Patients with private health insurance have applauded a federal government decision that will allow them to demand treatment from the clown doctor of their choice.
“I feel much happier going to hospital knowing that I’m going to get a visit from a clown doctor who knows my sense of humour and not a stranger who has no idea what tickles my funny bone,” said frequent hospital patient Glenys Fruitbowl. “I feel much more confident if the clown doctor pretending to operate on my stomach and pulling out yards and yards of bright orange raffia is someone I’ve built a real rapport with.”
“Where does that leave us poor Medicare patients?”, complained uninsured hospital patient Klaus Bedpan. “I just have to take potluck that the public clown doctor who comes around and taps on my knee with a squeaky plastic hammer to test my reflexes has any kind of comic timing. I’ll probably get stuck with the open mic clown doctors who don’t know the first thing about pulling out an oversized plastic saw and pretending to chop my leg off.”
Health minister Susan Ley assured public health patients that all clown doctors are fully qualified and have to have studied at least seven years of joke medicine before being allowed to jest in the hospital system.
“All giant oversized stethoscopes are subject to an annual check up to make sure they comply with international standards of humour,” said Ms Ley as she was blasted in the face by a stream of confetti emanating from a bogus sphygmomanometer. “We have a team of clown doctor inspectors who do random checks to make sure that practitioners have the correct number of fake measles spots drawn on their faces. I can assure you that the generic Patch Adams is just as funny as the real thing.”