Today’s instalment comes to you from the delightful Cairns Base Hospital. In Cairns. Cairns. What the hell am I doing in Cairns? You might well ask such a question – I asked that of myself not too long ago.
I have travelled up on a mission of supreme international importance. I plan to eliminate world poverty, make the world safe for democracy, and be home in time for Glee tonight.
My cover story, should anybody ask, is quite the cunning plan. The delightful Miss Mel, cleverly arranged a physio job interview at the hospital today so that I could accompany her up as a ‘travel companion’. While she has planted herself in the interview room and is wowing and amazing the panel with her distracting display of all things physiotherapical, I am setting the wheels in motion which will ultimately bring about world peace, an unlimited supply of clean energy, and a mint on your pillow every night before you go to bed.
The spies planted here by my secret enemy tried to thwart our attempts to gain access to the hospital, by charging us four dollars to gain access to a car park with no available car parks! However we were not deterred by this demoralising display of underhanded misdeeds. After some creative backtracking, I planted Miss Mel on her distraction run, and have made my way to the core of terror and vice that holds mankind as we know it in its mighty grasp: the Sea Breeze Café.
I can’t share the details of political sleight of hand, incredibly intricate tactical manoeuvring and mental manipulation through my commanding talents concerning The Force; that would give the game away to my opponents. Instead, I will tell you a little about the Cairns hospital.
It appears to have everything which makes a Queensland Health Facility: inadequate car parking, lots of futile construction to keep up with growing populace which has since left it far behind, an overpriced café, agitated visitors, ‘no smoking’ signs which are ignored by the majority of smokers, employees wandering around who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. If it weren’t for the lovely, cool sea breezes, I’d firmly believe I was back at work. Well, that and the fact that a friendly, local pigeon has decided to visit my table. I dare not touch it. It probably has MRSA. Then again, I probably do too from working in the hospital for so long. Consider it a token of appreciation for my years of service thus far.
Well, Miss Mel will probably be back soon, so I had better post this and then eat my computer to dispose of the evidence. And remember; if you don’t find a mint on your pillow tonight, then you know my plan has failed and I will be lying low for a while.
Surreptitiously yours,
Scott, the MRSA-positive Super Spy
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