19.06.2006 08:03 - Doctor Who
Upon arrival in Germany, I thought it would be a good idea to register with a Doctor. I didn't have to, but I thought that I'd better get it over with first thing. I went to the local health district and started looking at nameplates. Imagine my surprise when I came across none other than one Herr Doktor Who. This, I thought, was a premonition.
My surprise, however, was compounded when I went in and was faced by the receptionist - a lady of Turkish origin, who was wearing a badge which announced her name to be "Frau Dalek". I could barely contain myself. She gave me a strange look, but didn't seem to be about to try and exterminate me. I explained that I was here to register, which seemed to puzzle her. Oops. No English. No TARDIS to translate for me. I explained in my best German that I would like to register. She explained, in her German, in words sufficiently understandable to a retarded three-year old, that I didn't need to come and register until I was sick. However, if I would hand over my health card, the Doctor would see me and give me a checkup. I went and sat in the waiting room, and read a very interesting article in "Hello" about how Heike Makatsch had been dumped by the bloke who's now playing James Bond. Just as I was getting to the juicy bit, I was told that the Doctor would see me now.
I went into his office. It didn't seem any bigger than it looked from the outside.
Doctor Who bade me to sit, and finished something on his computer.
He then asked me a few simple questions in german. Did I smoke? No. Good. Did I drink? The occasional wine and beer, but no more than perhaps once a week and special occasions. He then glared at me over his spectacles in a very serious manner, and asked "Herr Dix, Haben Sie Verkehr?"
"Naturlich. Jeden morgen mit dem Bus" I answered.
He burst into laughter. "Mit dem ganzen Bus?!".
What he had asked, dear reader, is literally translated as "Do you have traffic?", but which means "Do you have a sex life?", to which I had replied "Yes, every morning on the bus".
I left, somewhat chastened by my experiences with the good Doctor.
He didn't even offer me a jelly baby.