It’s that time of year again and practice staff up and down the country are managing to enjoy their Christmas parties by consuming vast quantities of alcohol.
We joined one party which was already in full swing. ‘I’m 38 with two kids,’ shouted Dr Jones above the noise, ‘which means I’m not cool any more. I only get to dance once a year but I’ve had an absolute skin-full tonight which means…’ and then we think he shouted, ‘I’m a buzzy cockney wing bird’ but that doesn’t make any sense.
When ‘Smells like Teen Spirit’ came on Dr Jones raced on to the dance floor and in a desperate bid to rekindle the embarrassing memories of his youth he began to jog on the spot whilst flailing his limbs around uncontrollably. He then tried to do the devil horns but ended up poking Carol from admin in the eyes.
Even though the evening started with dinner and discussion, it ended with air guitars and the sound of dry hollow retching coming from the toilets.
As the revellers began to leave and as the DJ packed away his speakers, a single silent figure stayed behind. In the gloom, behind stacks of chairs, barely visible in the silent reflected light of the spinning glitter ball, someone from the GMC was finishing his notes.
Dr Kevin Hinkley is a GP in Edinburgh