I was sat in my surgery one day
when the receptionist walked in and said,” Mr Ashmore
is in the waiting room. When he comes in try not to stare at his head, he has the
most obvious wig you could imagine.” I told her to bring him in. The wig was,
as she said, obvious. It looked the wrong colour, it
looked cheap and sat on his head like a clod of
turf. He hung his coat up and my
assistant welcomed him into the surgery with the words,” Would you like to take
a seat Mr. Wigmore.”
Another day a new patient came in
to the practice, obviously not short of money, Saville
Row suit, Cartier shoes, all the best designer wear before it was trendy to
wear labels. He sat in the chair and lay back for his check up and we found a
small cavity. I decided to do the filling there and then so after the injection
had taken I proceeded to drill out the decay. As the nurse brought the suction
tube to his mouth, the Rolls Royce Silver Seraph of hairpieces slid slowly off
his head and stuck to the suction tube. The wig was handed to the patient who
silently and in a most dignified manner, placed it back on his head and held it
there for the remainder of the treatment.