Episode 3:
Doctor Jake Swat is running out of patience with his bratty partner, Brett Pip, who, having tried and failed to have him arrested and sent back to OZ as a hijack suspect, is now trying to convince Jake that going to live and work in England will be detrimental to their fashion sense, as proven by the fact that one of the passengers, a Brit, 57, is wearing a black shirt and tartan tie…in public.
“Look at him Jake, for the love of Skippy, just look at him,” turns around and glares at man sitting behind them, “you mark my words, we’ll end up like that if we go to England.”
“Turn around at once Brett,” Jake calmly continues working out the cryptic clues in the Chinese Financial Times crossword, “leave the poor man alone, he can’t help having no taste, it’s not catching.”
“It’s a disgrace, a flaming disgrace, I can’t live in a place that allows men to wander around like that, there should be a law against it. It’s not flaming civilised.”
“Turn around young man, I won’t tell you again, I shall simply discipline you in the nearest available rest room.”
“Think of the affect on the children, it could scar them for life.”
“We don’t have any children.”
“OH MY GOD, YOU MEAN THEY’VE ALREADY RUN AWAY, UNABLE TO TAKE THE HORROR OF LIVING IN ENGLAND WITH MEN LIKE THAT WALKING AROUND FREE!” Grabs Jake’s newspaper and begins beating man with it, “BAD MAN, BAD, SCARING OUR CHILDREN AWAY!”
“That’s it,” Jake reaches for his travel paddle, “my reserves of toppish patience have expired, I’m afraid it’s the rest room for you my lad!”
“Toilet, it’s a bloody toilet, why call it a rest room, who the hell rests in a toilet…..” Brett’s hysterical voice trails off as he’s marched down the aisle, and without so much as a wedding bouquet or veil.
Meanwhile back in St. Gays…Larry Lickit is beginning to panic as the internal organs of the patient his top Dick is operating on, mount up in a kidney tray…
“My Job it should have been mine, I had an executive chair and matching paddle ordered and everything,” Dick slopped a length of intestine angrily into the tray.
“Dick darling, Dick,” Larry plucked tearfully at Dick’s surgical scrubs, “Dick, the patient, don’t you think…”
“Yes, I do think he’s a bit loud, give him another aspirin and a fresh lolly stick to bite on, I can’t hang around waiting for anaesthetists to show, I’m an important man.”
“But Dick, listen to me….” Larry’s tearful plucks turn to ones of plucking desperation.
“Will you kindly STOP plucking me young man, or I’m afraid I shall have to send you to a corner!”
“BUT DICK YOU’VE TAKEN OUT ALL HIS INTERNAL ORGANS AND HE ONLY CAME IN TO HAVE AN IN-GROWING TOENAIL REMOVED!”
“Then why the hell didn’t you tell me, you foolish brat? Put those organs back where they belong, and then write 200 lines: I will tell Dick what he’s supposed to put in and take out in future.”
Meanwhile at the reception desk, manager Ben Dover, 30, is waiting for the arrival of his new assistant, when a drama unfolds…
“Help, help, somebody help,” a fresh faced young man rushes through the revolving doors, 12 times, “there’s a jumper, there’s a jumper on the roof!”
“Now then, now then young man, calm down, I know it’s October, but it’s nowhere cold enough for someone to have put a jumper on the roof.”
“NO, NO, not that kind of jumper,” Don, legs crossed, jigs about on the spot having decided the potential suicide is more important than having a piss, er, I mean pee. “A suicide jumper, he looks desperate, someone has to help him.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve already paged Doc Harvey, he’ll be here shortly.”
It all proves too much for poor little Don, his bladder explodes and he collapses in a heap, sobbing with both embarrassment and yet relief.
“Now then young fella,” Ben speaks kindly to the distressed figure, “don’t take on so, what’s your name?”
“Don Hurtme,” whispered Don.
“Aw, I won’t hurt you little man, I just want to know your name.”
“That is my name, I’m the new receptionist, who are you?”
“Ben Dover.”
“I thought you weren’t going to hurt me?” Don’s eyes grow round in panic.
“No, that’s my name, I’m your new boss, let me help you up, urine safe hands with me.” He reaches down, takes his hand, their eyes meet.
“Where’s the jumper?” St. Gays psychiatrist, Harvey Firmbutkind arrives on the scene, steps in Don’s accident and immediately leaves it, skiing down the corridor towards the morgue……..
Exciting and nerve tingling music played by an amateur orchestra indicates end of episode 3.
Will Harvey be able to pull up before crashing into the morgue, will Jake’s plane EVER land, will Larry get all those organs back in the right places, are Don and Ben destined to be lovers, who is the jumper on the roof? Tune in next time to QUEE’R, THE SOAP ON A ROPE, or something ;)