The one thing that could be vaguely worse than an old, urine drenched Granny is a drunk.

I have been exposed to many drunk patients....from the Cape Coloured Bergie to the Panga Wielding Zulu, but last night I got to experience the Footie Hooligan's Wife. No one can be quite as crass or disgusting as her.

The paramedics bought in the lovely couple after they were kicked out of the pub. They had somehow both fallen over and now had head injuries. I could hear them arrive in the A+E before I saw them.

Each one was in their own wheelcair, being escorted by a paramedic. You could tell from a quick glance that there was nothing seriously wrong with either of them. They were wheeled out into the waiting room, as they had been deemed non-urgent and could wait out there with everyone else.

Hooligan's Wife: Where are you taking me?

Paramedic: To the waiting room. You can stay there until it's your turn to be seen.

HW: But I can't go out there! I'm sick!

PM: Not sick enough according to them.

HW: I am sick! I've got cancer.

Cancer, now that was one that I hadn't heard before.

As they moved closer to the waiting room, I couldn't hear what they were saying but then I heard a loud, barely distinguishable wail......

HW: Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnccccccccccccceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!

I turned to my colleagues...

LMM: Last one to put their thumb on their forehead gets Mrs Rooney

My thumb hit my forehead so quick, you couldn't even say Rooney in time.



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