Trouble In Reception

Please listen to - Today's Gloomy Weather Forecast - Channel 5's Weather Lady.

Our scene is set in a small town situated 114 miles from London, 5 miles from Birmghm and even closer to Dudley.

"I hear you've been causing trouble in Reception," she said from somewhere above and behind me. "It's not our fault. It's the National Health Service that insists on you filling in the form every time you visit us."
I didn't argue. My small but amazingly powerful Chinese dentist lady had me pinned down on my back and was probing my oral cavity with a pointy steel object. My right shoulder was trapped beneath her small but amazingly powerful left breast. I decided it was best not to move.

The receptionist had told me the form I'd handed her was incomplete.
"What about your health?" she'd said.
"It's fine," I told her.
"No. You've got to check the entries. Are there any changes that we need to make there?"
"No. No changes," I told her and then, as an afterthought, I added,
"Still manage a pee and a bowel movement every morning. I just wish I could wake up first."
The receptionist is a very attractive young lady but humourless.
I'd hate to read my latest personal health entry.