Pointing the finger

I've just been to see a urologist.
"Do you smoke?" I shook my head, wondering what this had to do with my nether regions. "Well, I do," as he lit up and treated me to a lungful of passive.
He then went through the possible implications of my night time treks to the bathroom, illustrating the talk with sketches on a blank prescription. He described the organs involved, possible surgical procedures, side-effects and life expectancy. His punchline was that by this stage in the consultation many of his Greek patients say they'll commit suicide!
Then came the rubber glove and lubricant stage. "Greek men, especially priests, find this very hard to take. Demeaning."
So, if you decide to visit this gem of the Dodecanese, relax. And leave your tea-bags at home.