Playing the prescription game

Wednesday morning and me and Saskia are wondering whether at lunch we should go to Pret first, then Topshop or go to Topshop first, then Pret. I know; it’s pretty wild stuff. Saskia wants to go get some food first ‘cos she says a girl can’t shop on an empty stomach. If she had it her way we’d go to Pret first, then nip into McDonalds, and if there’s still time before we’ve got to get back to work we’d get a Cadburys Cream Egg and a couple of scratchcards. Saskia’s alright though. We’ve got this game where we try and guess what’s wrong with the customers collecting their prescriptions. It passes the time of day. It’s weird what illnesses people are carrying about with them. If you only knew the kind of things they had you'd never go on the tube again. You look at some of them and they look alright, some of the lads in their suits look seriously alright, but you get to see what’s on their prescription and you wouldn’t touch ‘em with a barge pole. Not even Saskia, and she’s usually not that fussy. This one bloke came in earlier. Stood around like a divvy, not in either queue, just hovering with a blank look on his face. I said to Saskia, bet he needs gormless pills. Saskia gives him the once over and says, oh he’s not that bad, probably a mild case of stupidity. He starts looking at me like he’s lost and I’m a map or something. I give him one of my raised eyebrow looks and he’s straight over like a shot with his little green prescription that matched his t-shirt. I take it off him, and, whoah, this boy’s no amateur. He’s going to need a wheelbarrow to get this lot home. He looks all sheepish and says, should I come back in a bit? Der, yeah! I’ll be here all day getting this one ready, I thought. 360 mesalazine, 180 azathioprine and just for good measure, 90 erythromycin ethylsuccinate. Yikes. No wonder he looked vacant, probably doped up to the eyeballs. Anyway, so I got Saskia to give me a hand, ‘cos there’s no way she’s going to hang around for me when she could be eating.