Carry On Matron Page #9

Synopsis: A gang of thieves plan to make their fortune by stealing a shipment of contraceptive pills from Finisham maternity hospital. They assume disguises and infiltrate the hospital, but everything doesn't go according to plan. The hypochondriac consultant Sir Bernard Cutting, Matron and the doctors and nurses at Finisham have a habit of getting in the way.
Genre: Comedy, Crime
Director(s): Gerald Thomas
Production: J. Arthur Rank Productions
 
IMDB:
6.2
NOT RATED
Year:
1972
87 min
572 Views


Oh, you mean the delivery room.

Ah, jawohl. Ja.

I don't know how you found your way here,

but it's on the ground floor.

Along there, down the stairs.

Ah, si. Si.

Grathias, mademoiselle. Grathias.

Enchante.

Come, Frederico.

Arrivederci.

Here, Sid...

- Good boy. Have you found them?

- What are we looking for?

Oh, knickers!

Here, Sid, I've found 'em.

Put 'em down!

What are we looking for?

Keys, you fool!

Oh, keys, you fool.

Matron, it's me. May I come in?

It's Bernard.

Matron...

Still warm.

She can't be far away.

Oh...

(Footsteps)

Oh, Matron. I've come to apologise.

- I misjudged you terribly.

- Oh?

And what's caused this sudden change,

Sir Bernard?

A desire to prove yourself again?

No, no. I was talking to Dr Goode

and he told me there was nothing between you

and, as a brother Newt, I believe him implicitly.

A brother Newt?

Yes. We're both Newts, you know.

Oh, where did you happen to meet?

In a jam jar, perhaps?

Oh, now, don't be like that, Matron.

Say you'll forgive me. Please.

Oh, that's all very well, Sir Bernard,

but the fact that you thought I could entertain

a man in my room for the purpose of...

- well, that sort of thing.

- What's wrong with... that sort of thing?

- I beg your pardon?

- When two people are attracted to each other...

As you are to me?

Desperately.

You're the medicine I've been wanting.

Three times a day and shake well before taking.

You have such a romantic way

of putting things. I don't know what to say.

Say you'll have me!

Come, Sir Bernard.

Sit beside me.

- Ooh!

- What on earth was that?

Ooh...

Oh, no! Not again!

They don't half put those gas meters

in some funny places.

Excuse me, madam.

Matron! How could you?

Sir Bernard, I don't know

what that man was doing down there.

No. You should have shoved him

in the cupboard like the last one.

Perhaps you've got one in there alrea... Already!

My God! You have!

Yes. You've got woodworm

in there all right, miss.

We'll send you an estimate.

Matron, I've only got one thing to say to you,

never try to join the Newts.

- I've never seen those men. They were in the...

- I don't want...

Come on. Let's get this door open.

- Did you get it?

- No. But we stopped someone else getting it.

We'll have to blow it. Ernie, get the stuff out.

Come on. Hurry up.

Be careful with it. Steady with it.

Slowly.

There. There you are.

Careful.

Huh... Looking for woodworm...

Reading the gas meter...

- I'm not a fool.

- You certainly are if you believe that.

I tell you, those men are up to no good.

Arthur, have you seen

any suspicious men about?

Suspicious, Matron?

Yes. One in uniform,

the other in a dark suit with a beard.

Oh, the men who came in with the emergency,

about quarter of an hour ago.

There you are. What did I tell you?

Emergency? We're not expecting

any emergencies, are we?

Well, Nurse Carter seemed to know all about it.

Nurse Carter? Where did they go?

Up in the lift, Matron.

We'll get to the bottom of this. Arthur,

lock all the doors and don't let anyone in or out.

I'll find out who's been unauthorised

in this hospital if it's the last thing I do...

All right. Come on. Get down.

Oh! Oh!

What's that?

Oh! Sister! Quick!

It's starting.

- Sister!

- All right, Mrs Tidey. It's all right.

Just lie back. I won't be a moment. Just relax.

Come on, Dad. Hurry up.

All right. That's enough.

Here you are.

Let's go.

Blimey, that was quick, doc.

Ja. It's my new method.

I just whistle and out she comes.

- Pardon...

- You can't go out, doc. I've locked the doors.

Back way. Quick!

Come on. Down here.

Here they are.

Locked. Through there!

They're locked!

Come on!

Down here!

There they are!

This is the maternity hospital here.

I'd like to report an explosion.

- They can't go through here.

- Where can they be?

- Where could they have got to?

- They must be round this way.

No! No!

Come on!

Come on!

Stop those men! They're trespassing!

(All shout)

- Come on. Through here.

- Right.

- I'll ladder my stockings.

- Oh, shut up. Get in.

Look out.

Mind my... mind my back.

Matron. Through here. Quickly.

Dirty nappies.

Eurgh!

Come on, Matron. The wards.

Aargh!

Missed me!

Aargh!

Mr Tidey...

Congratulations, your wife's just had a fine boy.

At last! I told you to use dynamite, didn't I?

Did you hear that, mates?

I've got a boy.

You've done it! Well done.

- Well done.

- There they are!

There they are! Matron!

(Blows whistle)

- Do you mind?

- Blimey!

- It's no good.

- Quick!

There they are!

- There they are.

- Get them!

Get them!

There's millions of 'em, like rabbits!

Don't let them go.

All right, all right, the game's up.

Hand over whatever it is you've got there.

- Quiet, please. I am trying to phone.

- Stop all that nonsense and call the police.

I'm trying to.

- I wouldn't, mate.

- Why not?

Well, if it ever got out that the nurse

who delivered those babies was a fella...

What?

I don't believe it.

You want more proof?

- Get off, Dad.

- He's right, Sir Bernard. We'd never live it down.

Very well. Arthur, put the phone down.

What is your proposition?

Simple. We give you the stuff back,

you let us go.

- My baby.

- Oh, shut up.

- Give it to me.

- Give it to her!

- All right. Hold the case, then.

- Oh, you fool. There.

You'll have to let them go, Sir Bernard.

Very well. Arthur, open the doors.

(Siren)

Ha-ha. It's time we left.

What on ea...

Prodd!

What on earth do you think you're doing,

you idiot?

(Wedding bells)

- Ah...

- Well done, lad!

Well done.

- Our turn next, eh?

- It'd better be.

- You're not, are you?

- Oh...

- Here.

- Oh...

Don't they look lovely?

Yeah. I'm glad something good's

come out of it, anyway.

Happy, my dear?

Especially for you.

You'll be able to prove yourself at last.

I'm not worried about that any more,

I can assure you, my dear.

- Are we going to do another job?

- Of course. I've got a beauty lined up.

Really? What is it?

I was reading about

this millionaire's nudist camp.

If I could just get somebody in there

to look it over...

Hey! Come back!

Come back, you fools!

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Talbot Rothwell

Talbot Nelson Conn Rothwell, OBE (12 November 1916 – 28 February 1981) was an English screenwriter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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