George came into the office one morning full of the joys of spring, and
was amazed when his seceratary immeadiately suggested that he sit down.
"Oh you do look ill," she said. "You'd better take the week off.'
Surprised but none the less impressed by his secertarys obviously
genuine concern, he went home.
On the way he met Jim, an old friend.
"God, what's up with you?" he asked
"I don't know. I feel fine," replied George.
"If I was you I'd get straight to the doctor," Jim said looking worried.
"But I feel perfectly alright," he protested.
Jim's response was along intake of breath. Even George's neighbour
commented as he walked past.
"You look awful," she said tactlessly, and George eventually bowed
under the weight of public opinion, and decided to go to the doctors.
"Doctor, look," he said, "I feel fine but everyone says I look terrible.
What's up?"
"I don't know,' he replied. "You certainly look rough. Now let me see."
So saying he reached up, and took a large medical tome from the shelf,
then started leafing through the pages. "Looks good, feels good, that's
not it. Looks good, feels bad, no. Ah, I've found it. Feels good, looks
terrible."
"And?" asked George anxiously.
"You're a ****."
