The Mammagram

I was booked to have a mammogram,on a bus that comes around.I waited ten minutes at the stopoutside the football ground.Thought I might have missed itwhen it pulled up at the kerb.I mimed "Is this for the mammogram test?"He nodded, I don't think he heard.I jumped on with me clean, flesh-colour bra,'Cross Your Heart' with a double-D tag.Changed 'em while waiting outside for the bus,stuffed the dirty ones in me bag.It was getting late and raining.Time to eat, and I was dying of thirst.So I started to undress as I moved down the aisle.After all ... I was the first.The windows were misted over,no curtains or blinds anywhere.Tho' the destination board did say 'Private',I was nervous 'cos me top half was bare.Awaiting with arms folded,it was only eight degrees.I looked around for equipment ...that could do the job with ease.They have to be pressed at different angles.Bit like lemons squeezed over a trout.The only thing I could see ... that might workwere the doors you come in and go out.It was difficult 'cos they were either end,impossible to reach.Didn't matter how I stood,I couldn't get one in each.I rang the bell ... for attention.By then I could have cried.I did when the doors flew opento a roaring cheer outside.I was so embarrassed ...I looked a sight ... you're not wrong,standing there in front of forty menwithout a scrap of makeup on.The driver shouted, "I don't know what your game is.You'd better get dressed.I'm hired to get this football team ...to Manly's ground for the test."Some of 'em vomited.I was touched by the others.They thought it might bring 'em luckfor the game against The Brothers.We won by seven hundred and fifty points,I'm now the team's mascot.Touched before every gamewhether they're playing or not.