The clinic for the broken people

Alright, who's playing funny buggers? I got a call today from a girl asking if this was the Monash women's ultrasound clinic. No, this is most definetely not the clinic. The strangest call I have ever recieved was years ago, when I picked up the phone to a male with a middle eastern accent, berating me for getting his daughter pregnant. There was colorful language all around. I kept telling him that he had the wrong number, but he insisted that he was not a fool, and that he had the 100% correct number. Sure mate, sure.

So tomorrow I go to eat at the Rialto Towers (where Crackers works) with a couple of my mates. I remember the first time I was there, I got quite drunk ($2 Cognac!) and crashed some wedding going on in the next room. I ended up dancing with a middle aged woman and her husband (it was only 3 of us on the dance floor) infront of the whole wedding guests. In hindsight, wasn't too good for Crackers if he got into trouble over that. Good thing they enjoyed the dance. ..Dance like John travolta..

Oh, and when we were there, I tried to dare Nudge to steal the rugby jerseys out of the picture frames and wear them (they were worth quite a bit). The look on Crackers face if he saw that would have been priceless. It'll be the day the music died for him. He'd have a face like a dropped pie.

btw, I never got a reply from the council. I might have to shoot off another letter...