Thank you Roland.

The Country Girl 

A young woman from the outback town of Charleville (over four hundred miles south-west of Brisbane, Queensland) takes the train to the state capital and makes her way to the Royal Brisbane and Women’s Hospital. She goes to reception where there are three ladies and a man behind the desk. The country girl waits until the oldest of the three female receptionists is free and beckons her to one side so that they may have a private conversation.

“G’day. Excuse me, Mrs, but I need to see an out-tern,” whispers the girl.

“An ‘out-tern’?” queries the receptionist. “Surely you mean an intern?”

“You can call them what you want,” answered the girl, “all I know is that I need a doctor to contaminate me.”

“I expect you mean that you want a doctor to examine you,” the older lady fights the urge to laugh and tries to maintain her cool composure.

“That’s what I said. I need to be contaminated. Could you please tell me how to get to the fraternity ward?”

“Oh… do you mean the maternity department?” asks the receptionist.

“Listen, I don’t know why you’re being so obstetructive. If you must know all my business, okay, I haven’t remonstrated for two months and I think I’m stagnant!”

“Come this way, deer,” says the receptionist.