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A final diagnosis.

by Jim Webster
Originally published by on 09/02/2016

“So madam, how is your aura?' The ‘consultant’ peered at her through his mirrored sunglasses, cabalistic symbols were etched into the mirroring.

“Have you tried, ‘Greeting the dawn naked’ on the front lawn’?'

“Our street was heaving with commuters.'

“What about purging your system with five litres of water a day from our spring?'

“Well I peed a lot if that helps.'

“And the lentil and bean diet?'

“You wouldn’t believe how often it made me fart.'

“Have you considered upgrading to our elite service, only fifty guineas a week?'


“Ah, your problem is that you are irredeemably sensible.'

Jim Webster Merits

19 most prolific15 most esteemed

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