MEDIC TRIBES: A guide to out placement THE ALCOHOLIC Monday comes around once more. “Well, might as well buy a pack of stubbies then.” Perpetually bored with the suburban lifestyle of the Tauntonian, Reece spends his evenings drinking cheap Lidl wine in his flat to terminate the endless cycle of clinical medicine. Unable to fathom any sort of fun not involving alcohol, Reece snubs his colleagues who enjoy exploring the local vicinity. Instead he mutters and gurgles obscenities into his glass of “genuine Lidl Whiskey”, while leaning back in his ergonomic chair, fat spilling over his once-chiselled frame. THE PARASITE Never organising his own clinics or clerkings, Dennis feeds on the academic enthusiasm of his peers. Known to rigorously stalk his colleagues in advance, he casually suggests partnering up with the highest rank student: a move he has been planning for months. Herein lies the parasite. Commonly clad in baggy sweatshirts and signet rings, Dennis spends any time alone searching for the best deals to Columbia so he can escape the hell that is out placement. It is of great amusement to witness these creatures when their clinical partner has been taken ill: they wander the wards aimlessly, bumping into patients, mislaying every piece of medical equipment they own. THE NATIVE “I just don’t know why everyone complains about Weston-super-Mare”, she asserted with her fresh West Country accent. Georgie’s gone native. Seldom seen in the car back to Bristol, Georgie immerses herself in the local culture. As soon as anyone complains about leaving Bristol, she ardently defends her newfound spiritual homeland to the death. Aggressively calling her nemesis “a reet spuddling”, she enumerates the various ways in which Weston is “Gert Lush”, and that anyone who disagrees should 14