A mysterious man is driven through the city on his way to work, in the latest from Through the K Hole.
His driver accelerated smoothly through London’s morning traffic. Streets and parked cars flicked past the tinted windows. The road arched up like a grey spine and the side roads ribbed out like a city centre carcass fleshed up with pedestrians.
Inside, the car was a lucrative island of creaking leather, letter headed note paper and snapping brief cases. Together they skimmed through the city.
They passed through the financial sector, its zinc and glass and steel were confident bristles on the jaw line of a city that looked assuredly towards its financial future.
That morning he had already sat in management discussions, had held a teleconference with colleagues and corrected some proofs.
As he neared number 10 he adjusted his tie, an executive knot rearing up like a silk noose. He became charcoal and pin stripe and hair gel.
He glissaded into number ten, not Downing Street of course, but his very own surgery. When he called through his first patient that morning he contentedly reflected on the fact that he would earn more than the PM.
Written in response to: 1465 GPs ‘earning more than the Prime Minister’
Kevin Hinkley is a GP in Aberdeen.
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