Playing with colour
I was down in the coffee shop the other day.
I was chatting with The Lads [as one does] when one of them mentioned he was trying to get an appointment for his missus with Doc. Apparently he had been offered a slot seven days later. This surprised me as Doc tends to be a same-day service with maybe a day’s wait if he was busy. We mulled this information over and decided that it was the sudden influx of Ukranians and people claiming to be Ukranian. The word was that doc had taken an extra GP to help with the rush.
Now this news concerned me. I take tablets [loads of the little fuckers] and I had had to increase my dosage on one of them for various reasons. I had been topping up from a spare stash I had collected in the past. Some people collect stamps, others collect ornaments, I collect drugs. The problem was that my stash was running low and I needed to formalise it with a new prescription.
Yesterday I took the plunge and phoned the surgery for an appointment as my stash was down to a couple of weeks. “How about four fifteen?” says the receptionist. “When?” says I. “four fifteen” says she. “I know” says I, “but what day?” “Today” says she.
I arrived down at four fifteen, announced my arrival to the receptionist and marched into the waiting room. It was packed!
Moments later the receptionist stuck her head around the door and called me out. “Wait upstairs on the bench by the window” she whispered. She was being very secretive. This was weird. I have never been up those stairs before so was in foreign territory. I did as she asked and watched the stream of patients coming and going on the level below me.
Next thing a door opened beside me [I hadn’t even noticed that door] and Doc popped his head out. I followed him in and he closed the door quickly. I must say he looked very relaxed for an overworked Doc but then I’m not a doctor. I realised then that the crafty bugger was taking things easy by hiding in the attic. Fair play to him.
So we had a nice chatty consultation. I nearly forgot why I was there, but he asked anyway. I told him I needed a new script for white ones to go with the red ones. He said that was fine but did I want the orange ones? Apparently the orange ones are the same as a red one and a white one together, but I said I’d keep them separate for the time being.
I collected a new month’s supply from the pharmacy but apparently there’s a shortage of white ones so I got a batch of white and yellow ones which are near enough the same thing.
My stash is safe.
Being a Ukrainian refugee is a no brainer.
If you are a real Ukrainian, and Zelynsky, and Sleepy Joe, and every elected and unelected leader of Europe has said they are going to fight to the last Ukrainian man (but not me, said Zelinskyy from somewhere else in Europe) why would you not flee into the generous arms of the European taxpayer.
Plus, when this farago is over there is going to be a lot of unattached ladies back home.
If you are not a real Ukrainian, it would be a shame to not let a bunch of fools virtue signal, and give you other people’s money. And homes. And food.
There is actually a bit of a problem here in Ireland with regard to refugees. Even before the Ukrainian war we had a housing crisis. Families are being evicted because they can’t afford exorbitant rents. Families are living with their parents because they can’t afford a house or rent. We now have something like 11,000 homeless families living in shelters or in some cases in their cars. So far this year we have taken in another 100,000 refugees and there is literally nowhere to put them. At the latest count, something like 600 are living on the streets of Dublin. Holiday accommodation has been grabbed by the gubmint as another place to put them all, and as a result the tourist industry is facing a crisis as visitors can’t find anywhere to stay.
And the gubmint keeps saying that all refugees are welcome?
They are welcome, they just have no place to stay.