You sometimes hear or take part in strange conversations if you work in a hospital like I do, but I think today’s conversation took the biscuit. I thought I’d share the one below with you to brighten up your Monday. It was between a colleague, let’s call her Ann, and myself and it went like this:

Ann: We had the wrong post delivered here last Friday. I didn’t look at the address, thought it was ours and opened the box. There was an arse inside.

Me: An arse?

Ann: Yeah, an arse with a hole in.

Me: Don’t all arses have holes in?

Ann: This one was different. It had two holes.

Me: A kind of super-arse? Whose arse was it?

Ann: I found out it belongs to the Tissue Viability girls, whose office is at the end of the corridor. They ordered one so they could practise their bedsore routines on it.

Me: Ah, a plastic arse?

Ann: Well, I don’t know about plastic. It was sort of soft and squidgy, like.

Me: That’s a relief. I had a mental image of some poor sod walking around without an arse!

Isn’t it great working in a hospital? I wonder where they ordered it from (lol)?