Wart-charming on the NHS?

At the beginning of term, a booth would be set up in the school gym. Stripped to the waist and hunched with cold and embarrassment, we stood waiting for our turn to enter the booth so that the games mistress could watch us bend forward to touch our toes. Then she inspected the soles of our feet. I don’t know if she ever picked up an incipient scoliosis, but each summer verrucas condemned several girls to sitting by the swimming pool while the rest of us practised our breast stroke.