Had a doc once who's no longer with us was a chronic cricket fan. My medical was always test match time. He and his partner had a new clinic and the first extra expense was a B/W TV presumably for the delight of waiting patients. Wrong - it was so ol' doc mate could check the blessed cricket. One would enter and be met with, "What's the score?" One only needed to comment that Shepherd had been done by a Larwood bouncer and it was just too much, out he would rush returning occasionally to chuck in a few notes. I would be given the paperwork with a, "Here you can fill this in."
That's when I discovered that medical literature was not my first language and that NO in every box was not right.
Later I was doing the annual with his partner, a very funny man and clever with the silent syllables. This one day I had flown the noisy F/W in after a long several months in the more noisy flying machines and noise; well noise was never my best friend. I did the urine sample and walked in with it with a, "where shall I put it?".
'Just there on the desk thanks,' came the reply. Now, it's right in my field of view and it starts playing on my mind, stale p**s-- getting staler---, what if a bloke had to crash in the desert -- and have to drink it---, as the questions flowed. 'Ever had lumbago of the third ventricle left footed ingrown toenail? All that sort of mind riveting stuff, then he mutters under his breath, 'How's your hearing?'
Came the automatic response,
"Well it hasn't melted the bottom out of that glass bottle yet".
Weill, his head snapped back with eyes as big as dinner plates and eyebrows gone way past his hair line, but quick as a flash he says, 'Don't spend too much time in controlled airspace do we?'