Probably the best GP in the world

Bogart would have known the feeling; tall, willowy and blonde, the kind of woman who made you wonder if you had died and gone to smooth-dude heaven.

'You requested a domiciliary consultation on Mrs Magee,' she said.

I adjusted my shades slightly to show I appreciated the view; her pupils dilating, her lips pouting, I could tell she had not expected Dr Farrell, the Dr Farrell of the incisive, clinical referral letters to be so hip he could hardly see over his pelvis.

'Let's drive,' I said.

Leaving town, I saw three thugs harassing an old lady in a wheelchair. I got out of the car and chased them away, giving one a good clip on the ear.

'Pour encourager les autres,' I explained.

'Vous parlez Francais?' she said, impressed.

'Un petit peu,' I said, ever so modestly.

We were driving along a sun-dappled country road when I braked suddenly; she shot forward in her seat, restrained only by her belt, and her golden hair cascaded forward over cheekbones so finely chiselled Michelangelo would have needed a slide-rule to emulate them.

Before she could protest I was already returning to the car, cradling a kitten in my arms.

'Wee thing was abandoned in the middle of the road,' I said, wrapping the kitten in a blanket and feeding her milk from an improvised baby's bottle, 'But I know a poor little gal who lost a puppy a few weeks ago; she'll give her a home.'

At the house (I was glad Mrs Magee's buxom niece Sally was not around; it could have given rise to some unpleasantness; I hate women fighting over me) she confirmed my diagnosis.

'Your doctor was right,' she said, 'Definitely a case of systemic lupus erythematosis.'

'Isn't Dr Farrell always right,' said Mrs Magee, handing over her protection money and the mandatory freshly baked apple pie. I palmed the cash and slipped her some antibiotics.

On the way back I stopped, taking out my mandolin and hamper full of smoked salmon and champagne. 'Had we but all the earth and time/Then Lady, coyness were no crime/But at my back I often hear/Time's winged chariot drawing near,' I whispered.

Her lips tasted of oranges and wine, and we made love on a bed of autumn leaves, her soft cries of ecstasy a descant to the wind sighing in the branches above.

'Can I see you tonight?' she asked.

'Sorry babe,' I replied, 'I never plan ahead.'

Carlsberg don't do domiciliary consultations, but if they did...

Dr Farrell is a GP from County Armagh. Email him at

Have you registered with us yet?

Register now to enjoy more articles and free email bulletins


Already registered?

Sign in

Follow Us:

Just published

BMA House entrance

GPs face pension tax penalties worth 'half their post-tax income'

Rapid swings in inflation could leave GPs facing pension tax penalties worth 'half...

Sign outside BMA House

BMA to demand significant pay rises to combat 15 years of real-term cuts

The BMA is set to demand significant pay rises for all doctors to undo over a decade...

UK police station

Reporting a crime in the practice – the confidentiality dilemma

With incidents of aggressive behaviour from patients on the rise, Dr Emma Green,...

Sign reading 'General Medical Council'

GMC backs reversal of GP suspension over laptop and admits tribunal error

The GMC has admitted a medical tribunal was wrong to suspend a Manchester GP for...

Dr Chaand Nagpaul

Government 'willfully shrinking workforce' and exploiting doctors' goodwill, warns Nagpaul

The government is exploiting doctors' goodwill while persistently failing to adopt...

Vaccination tracker

UK COVID-19 vaccination programme tracker

GPs across the UK have led the largest-ever NHS vaccination programme in response...