Dear Auntie Sadie,
I have lived in Sai Kung Town my entire life, but recently traveled to the UK with my wife to romantically celebrate our Golden Wedding Anniversary. Prior to this Trip of a Lifetime, I had only ventured out of Sai Kung Town once, on an ill-fated 101 minibus adventure to Hang Hau. On that occasion, I travelled as far as the Tikitiki Bowling Bar, before suffering a panic attack and screaming at the minibus driver to turn around in similar fashion to the little girl on The Exorcist. Anyway, I digress.
By the time my wife and I had endured an interminable flight to London that can best be described as ‘bloodcurdling’, ‘execrable’ and ‘gruesome’, my wife – ever the optimist – was determined that we enjoy ourselves. And so we enjoyed Fish and Chips in London, Pie and Chips in Birmingham, Battered Sausage and Chips in Manchester, Gravy and Chips in Newcastle, Yorkshire Pudding and Chips in York, Haggis and Chips in Edinburgh… By the time we had enjoyed three Full English Breakfasts with black pudding, white pudding, and more haggis in the Highlands, I had suffered no fewer than a hundred panic attacks and was crippled by anxiety and chronic constipation.
Had this happened in Sai Kung, I would have gone to see Dr. Loo, my trusty GP, who has (professionally) examined every nook and cranny of my flaccid anatomy. I hoped to use my constipation as the noble excuse I needed to fly back to Sai Kung at the earliest opportunity, but my wife was insistent that the
terms of our travel insurance meant I could enjoy a doctor’s appointment with an English GP. By the time I had enjoyed filling out countless forms proving my identity for the surgery’s surly receptionists, and then enjoyed explaining verbally everything I’d written down in the forms, the English GP was ready to see me. But when asked for my Hong Kong doctor’s name and I replied Dr. Loo, the English doctor fell about laughing, as if it was the funniest joke in the world!
I like to think of myself as a humorous man, but I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what is so amusing about Dr. Loo? Should I be worried about his medical competence? Why is he an international laughing stock? Can you please, PLEASE enlighten me?
Yours painfully,
Constipated In The UK
Dear Constipated In The UK,
Let me begin by apologizing for the entire British nation and their tawdry, trifling toilet humor. Dr. Loo is also my doctor and a distinguished, upstanding General Practitioner and Community Icon, exemplary in the fields of medicine and golf. If there is one man you can trust to cure you of your constipation, it’s Doctor Loo! (Hurrah!) On a personal note, he’s striven to cure me of my many, many, many, many, many mental illnesses. (Hurrah!) But a ‘loo’ in vernacular English is just another expression for a water closet, a lavatory, a John, a restroom, a bathroom, a powder room, a little boy’s room, a steamroom, a washroom, a latrine, a comfort station, a throne, a commode, a dunny, a cloakroom, a khazi, a potty, a privy, a swanie, a bog… Must I elaborate? Enjoy the rest of your romanic Golden Wedding Anniversary celebration holiday safe in this knowledge! And regarding that other painful matter, have you tried enjoying prunes?
Yours helpfully,
Auntie Sadie xxx (Hurrah!)
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