My baby brother is a doctor. A fully qualified professional doctor, no less. In England's largest county, the county of the White Rose, on the wrong side of the Pennines.
The other day he had a severe challenge to his professionalism. A bloke came to see him with a rash. This was no ordinary bloke. He was tattooed all over with Union Flags. He wore a Union Flag t-shirt. He had a skinhead hairstyle. The sort of bloke who wouldn't wear a burberry baseball cap because burberry baseball caps are for poufs.
This bloke had a rash, that was all over his chest and shoulders and creeping down his arms. He was petrified because it was creeping lower than the limits of his (Union Flag) t-shirt sleeves. This was no ordinary rash. This was the sort of rash that changes the pigmentation of skin of a white Yorkshireman, with Union flag tattoos into a, how shall we phrase this, somewhat brown colour.
Baby brother was tempted to tell him that time was a great healer, and send him away to be racially abused by other Union Flag tatooed Neanderthals. Unfortunately, professionalism took over, and BB prescribed an elixir to restore skin to white Neanderthal shade.
