“Surgery.  Good afternoon.”

“Hello.  I’ve been waiting three weeks to hear about a referral.  Just wondering how things are going, please?”

“Oh.  Right.  What’s your name?”

“It’s [The Minister of Truth].”

“Hold the line a moment, please.”

“No problem.”

[lengthy pause, accompanied by delightful, soothing pan pipe music]

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“That’s OK.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t find the information I’m looking for.”

“Oh.  Right.  What information is that, then?”

“Your notes.”

“Ah.”

“Ye-ah…”

“That’s not good, is it?”

“No-oo…  What was the referral for?”

“To see a neurologist.”

“Oh.”

“Hmm…”

“Can I take your phone number, please?  I think I need to have a word with the doctor.”

The official advice if you have a headache is to seek medical help if it persists for more than a few days.

I’ve had a headache for ten months.

If they eventually find something wrong, I’m going to take great huge pleasure in bankrupting four of my surgery’s five partners.