A man went to Harley Street, London and saw a card advertising for a Gynaecologist's Assistant. Interested, he went in and asked the clerk for details.
The clerk pulled up the file and read;
"The job entails getting the ladies ready for the gynaecologist. You have to help the women out of their underwear, lay them down and carefully wash their private regions, then apply shaving foam and gently shave off their pubic hair, then rub in soothing oils so they're ready for the gynaecologist's examination. The annual salary is £65,000, and if you're interested you'll have to go to Manchester"
"My God, is that where the job is?" asked the man.
She answered, "No sir, that's where the end of the queue is."
My local gynaecologist will insist on always decorating his hall, stairs and landing through the letter box in the front door - the old ones are always good to hear again, Shaglene, and I expect there's a few readers who've not heard them before !!!