(Cut to a doctor's surgery. It has a wall shrine with a photo
of Christian Barnard with flowers and candles in front of it. The
doctor is talking to an embarrassed-looking man.)
Doctor: Well, Mr. Cotton, you have what we in the medical
profession call a naughty complaint. My advice to you is to put this
paper bag over your head - it has little holes there for your eyes,
you see - and to ring this bell, and to take this card along to your
hospital. (he hands him card three feet long which reads 'For
Special Treatment') And I shall inform all your relatives and
friends and anyone else I bump into. OK... cash, wasn't it? (the
man hands him over wad of fivers) Thank you very much. Get out.
(the man gets up to go) Dirty little man. (he picks up big
text book entitled 'Medical Practice' and flicks through the pages)
Hmm.,. hmm ... Hippocratic oath ... it's not in there ... jolly
good. Very useful. Next!
(An out-of-vision scream. A man staggers in clutching his
bleeding stomach. Lots of blood pours out of him throughout the
Doctor: Ah, yes you must be Mr. Williams.
Williams: (obviously fatally wounded) Y... yes...
Doctor: Well, do take a seat. What seems to be the
Williams: I've... I've just been stabbed by your nurse...
Doctor: Oh dear.... well I'd probably better have a look
at you then. Could you fill in this form first? (he hands him a
Williams: She just stabbed me...
Doctor: Yes. She's an unpredictable sort. Look, you seem
to be bleeding rather badly. I think you'd better hurry up and fill
in that form.
Williams: Ahhh ... couldn't ... I ... do ... it ... later,
Doctor: No, no. You'd have bled to death by then. Can you
hold a pen?
Williams: I'll try.
(With great effort he releases one of his hands from his
Doctor: Yes, it's a hell of a nuisance all this damn
paperwork, really it is... (he gets up and strolls around fairer
unconcerned) it's a real nightmare, this damned paperwork. It
really is a hell of a nuisance. Something ought to be done about it.
Williams: Do I have to answer all the questions, doctor?
Doctor: No, no, no, just fill in as many as you can - no
need to go into too much detail. I don't know why we bother with it
all, really, it's such a nuisance. Well let's see how you've done,
then... (Williams half collapses) Oh dear oh dear... that's
not very good, is it. Look, surely you knew number four!
Williams: No ... I didn't...
Doctor: It's from 'The Merchant of Venice' - even I know
Williams: (bleeding profusely) It's going on the
Doctor: Oh don't worry about that! Look at this - number
six - the Treaty of Versailles, Didn't you know that? Oh, my God.
Williams: Ahgg... aghhh.
Doctor: And number nine - Emerson Fittipaldi! (gives
Williams a look) Virginia Wade? You must be mad!
(The nurse enters with a smoking revolver.)
Nurse: Oh doctor, I've just shot another patient. I don't
think there's any point in your seeing him.
Doctor: You didn't kill him, did you?
Nurse: 'Fraid so.
Doctor: You mustn't kill them, nurse.
Nurse: Oh, I'm sorry doctor. It was just on the spur of
the moment. Rather silly really.
(She exits, taking a sword from the wall. Through the next bit
of the scene we hear screams off.)
Williams: I'm sorry about the carpet, doctor.
Doctor: Mr. Williams, I'm afraid I can't give you any
marks, so I won't be able to recommend you for hospital. Tell you
what - I'll stop the bleeding - but strictly speaking I shouldn't
even do that on marks like these...
(The nurse enters covered in blood)
Nurse: There are no more patients now, doctor.
Doctor: Oh well, let's-go and have lunch, then.
Nurse: What about... er... (she points to Williams who
is lying on the floor gurgling by this time)
Doctor: Ah yes - look, Mr. Williams we're just popping out
for a bite of lunch while we've got a spare moment, you know. Look,
have another bash at the form... and if at least you can answer the
question on history right, then we may be able to give you some
morphine or something like that, OK?
Williams: Thank you, doctor, thank you.