Mother of the Year

Dearest Ms Mac, Mother of the Year, obviously spending quality time bonding with her lovely children,

How is the enforced proximity to your lovely offspring coming along? I do hope you haven’t murdered any of them yet.

Boy, have I got exciting news for you! I was unshackled from my desk and let out of the office for an hour to be weighed, poked and prodded by the industrial doctor for my annual statutory employee medical check. The chance to get outside and walk in the blazing sunshine for 40 minutes was a hell of treat!

The only thing that worried me was that after I weed in a large plastic cup and the nurse dropped a tablet in it (?), I couldn’t help noticing that it turned exactly the same colour as the “apple juice” in her plastic goblet, positioned on her desk, next to her computer. I’m dearly hoping it was apple juice, because she took a good hearty slurp of it at one stage. The only difference I could see between my pee-pee cup and her apple juice cup was that the one I peed in was as big as an American-style Big Gulp cup. Eurghh… am making myself quite queasy now.

The lady doc was lovely and we had a good old chat: I tried to spin it out for as long as possible. However she couldn’t find anything wrong with me and signed me up as fit for work, dammnit. I wish you were my industrial doctor, as well as my beauty therapist, fashion advisor, Playboy photo-spread stylist, psychotic-logist, and all-round lifestyle coach. You would be sure to prescribe frequent rest periods for my fragile psyche and troublesome bunions.

Much sunny love and juicy kisses,

Antipo

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