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Jack Maynard slowly opened his eyes. His head was pounding, and he thought he was about to be sick. How much had he drunk last night? There were times he hated being a med student, usually the morning after the night before. The glaring white of the room confused him. Where was he? It didn’t look (or smell) like his digs, and why was there a woman weeping at the end of his bed? Jack shut his eyes and allowed unconsciousness once more to over take him.

“So how is he?” asked Hilda.

“Still unconscious,” replied Madge, “But Jem hopes that he will come round at some point today.”

“What a relief!” said Hilda, “Joey must be overjoyed.”

“She is,” said Madge, “She can’t stop singing for joy.”


Once more Jack opened his eyes. This time instead of a weeping woman at the foot of his bed, he was surrounded by what looked like two or three clones, a couple of women with very old fashioned haircuts and a rather pompous looking doctor.

“Jack!” shrieked the woman with the buns clamped to either side of her face, “You're awake.” She hurled herself upon him, “I knew my rendition of the Red Sarafan would bring you back! Len! Connie! Margot! Come and hug Papa! Havn’t they grown darling!” she continued to shriek.

“Papa?” thought Jack “What the hell is going on?”

“Calm down Joey,” said the Doctor, “Maynard old chap, how are you feeling?”

But it was too late; Jack had lapsed once more into unconsciousness.

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