User Rating: 5 / 5

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I have a trusted Doctor. He is amazing. I walk in, without an appointment and he is always there to greet me and prescribe my best medications. I don’t need a full medical and I don’t need to have my blood pressure checked. In fact, he cheerily welcomes me with his lovely smile and warm handshake and tells me just to browse the medication to see what best fits my needs.

I learned from a friend on twitter that he too attends one of the clinics run by my Doctor and he has seen people lined up outside to pour in at opening time to consult with the Doctor.

All age groups, nationalities and men, women, gays, transgenders – in fact even homeless people are there to wait upon the opening of the clinics that abound in Australia.

There is no prejudice, no social barrier or even a socio economic wall in place that could prevent you from entering his surgery. His prescriptions are well accepted, legal and totally embraced by millions of Australians throughout every State and Territory.

There has been many a night that I could have fallen foul of depression, misery, pain or anxiety had it not been for this marvellous Doctor and his incredible Clinics.

Instead, I have laughed and guffawed at Mr Gormsby, Flying High and reruns of Yes Minister because I had some medication from my favourite Doctor.


Without him, I would have sat, gnawing my thumbs, contemplating gnawing my limbs off and considering the wisdom of putting Lifeline on speed dial because I could not cope with the Reality we live these days.

When I read the headlines about a virus about to annihilate the planet Earth and how Sir David Attenborough, Ms Thunberg, Cringe and Ginge all say that we will be dead in 12 years, I hasten off to seek a consultation at my local clinic and walk out feeling relaxed, calm and full of something resembling “ oh fuck it, I don’t care”.

I clutch my prescription and head home to refrigerate my dispensed medication and feel content: I will survive another week.

One of the hardest things I have battled is the swallowing of my medication. It is often tempting to take it before 5pm – the recommended time. And yes, I have slipped from time to time and still do.. from time to time. Fortunately, my Doctor understands that needs must and occasionally one becomes forgetful and looks at the clock with aged eyes and misreads the clock – what was seen as 5.03 was 3.05.

Or perhaps it was because I had inadvertently changed the hands on the clock and … well, who knows? In this time of change, anything is possible.

The most important thing I can tell you is that my Doctor is a Doctor who, unless you are an addict of course, ( in which case avoid his clinics – it would be very bad indeed because he is very tolerant )

I would recommend my Doctor and any one of his clinics.

Throughout Australia.

My Doctor is Dr Dan …Dr Dan Murphy. I do not receive any revenue from his clinics. In fact I do not recieve any revenue from anyone. Thanks for the donation to Monty... not... buit I digress. 


He is a jolly good fellow, and so say all of us.

At present, with the coronavirus, outbreaks of African gang violence in Melbourne, global upheaval, power outages, green outrage, drought, lack of Political leadership, a preponderance of soap and suds and scum and – well, may I say bullshit – from Canberra and our State Governments, it is no wonder that we are turning to our preferred GP.

Because, quite frankly, there is sweet bugger all to look forward to these days when our Politicians are so weak, woke and wanting in terms of common sense.

Hell, it is enough to drive you to drink.


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