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'Always remember,' said my old Professor, 'the examination begins from the end of the bed.' Well, I've got news for you, you old goat, it starts long before that; the neighbourhood is the first clue.
If a burnt-out car is blazing merrily in the middle of the street and you are approached at the lights by a crack whore looking for a date (my passion for museum and art galleries is well known and it is so much nicer when you can share these things with someone you love), the discerning eye may consider these important clues and a shot-gun injury already a likely diagnosis.
But this call was different, the clues were hard to read. Fortunately my clinical instincts are …