Previously on QUEE’R: Doctor Jake Swat and his partner Brett Pip are headed for a new life in England. Swat’s reputation as a no nonsense administrator, brilliant surgeon, champion chess player, rugby player, footballer and fluent speaker of 34 languages, as well as a top Top and master chef, precede him, causing mixed feelings amongst the staff at St Gays. |
"That job should have been mine, SCALPEL!" doctor Dick, still seething and fuming, sliced open the patient on the table from chest to groin, "it had my name written all over it, I should know, I wrote it myself." "Dick, excuse me Dick." "Be quiet Larry, can't you see I'm busy seething and fuming as well as performing surgery, SWAB!" "I don't think you should call me names Dick, it's not nice, and I think there's something in the rule book that says tops can't call their brats anything but meaningless endearments," Larry's lip trembled under his surgical mask, he'd had a stressful time of it since his top Dick had discovered that he wasn't to become top Top at St. Gays. "Don't quote the rule book at me Larry Lamkins, I helped write it! And I meant swab the patient, he's bubbling blood everywhere, I can hardly see what I'm doing....and where the hell is Hughey Uno, he's supposed to be the aneasthetist this morning, how am I expected to perform surgery with the patient wriggling around and screaming like that, EARPLUGS!" |
* Meanwhile, On flight 666, the pilot is recovering from his appendectomy, but still, all is not well. Doctor Jake Swat is lying face down in the aisle, having being over powered by three Ninja Stewardesses alerted to the fact that he’s a hijacker. Jake sternly, but patiently, and without shouting, negotiates with the perpetrator of the lie: “You tell them the truth Brett Pip, do you hear me, tell them that what you actually meant to shout was that I was a *thigh slapper,* not a hijacker, and by heavens you earned that slap. I mean it young man, you are not getting this plane turned back around, we are going to England.” * Back in Sunny Soho. It’s early morning, and a small, nervous, timid figure is wending its way towards St Gays, between the avenue of hoarse chest-nut trees, which the gardener is watering lavishly with cough mixture in a bid to cure. Don Hurtme, 22, a fresh faced, innocent ex safe breaker is arriving for his first day as assistant receptionist. He steps to one side as an imposing figure in a shiny Italian suit, and a plump Sable fur coat, swaggers majestically down the path towards him. Birds begin to plummet from the trees, pock marking the grass as they crash land and lay twitching. He stares in amazement, little ripples of fear running down his spine as a song falls from the branches: *WHY DO BIRDS SUDDENLY APPEAR EVERY TIME YOU ARE NEAR?* The fur coat pulls alongside him, flashing a set of choppers so white that Don is dazzled. He sways, feeling his senses beginning to leave him, what the hell was happening? “Steady lad, deep breaths,” the gardener, 58, clutched his arm, don’t go down, or he’ll have you.” “Who the hell was that guy,” Don stared after the figure, “and why do birds suddenly appear whenever he is near?” “That my lad, was the porter just knocking off night shift, Hardy Andthrobbing, and the reason birds suddenly appear whenever he is near, is that his aftershave is more lethal than chloroform, stuns the poor little buggers it does, and I reckons it contributes to my chestnut trees being hoarse and all. You watch out for him, he’s a right bloody predator.” Don stood in front of St Gays, it was an imposing fifteen storey bungalow with roof top car park. Only five of the floors were actually medical wards, the other ten were pubs, bars and clubs for the doctors and nurses to hang out in as they waited for medical emergencies to arise, or in case they got bored during an op, and fancied a Harvey Wall Banger. Suddenly he caught sight of a desperate figure on top of the roof, he drew in his breath, he hadn’t even clocked on, and already he was having to make life or death decisions: Should he go to the toilet first, and then alert somebody to the presence of a potential suicide on the roof, or should he alert someone before going to the toilet, oh God, why hadn’t he gone before leaving home?……….. ………..Dramatic music brings episode 2 to a close. Will Don make the right decision without wetting himself, will the birds recover, will Dick's patient ever get pain relief, will Jake’s plane ever touch down? Tune in next time to QUEE’R. |