Carry on Nurse

RADIO:
Silver Maid keeping ahead

in front of Dasher and Boy Blue.

But the favourite, Red Dice,

is now lengths behind. He's right out of it.

Inside the last furlong, and Dasher's taken it up!

Moving through very smoothly.

Silver Maid hanging on to second place.

And at the post, it's Dasher from Silver Maid...

Well, did it win?

That nag should be going into hospital, not you!

Bad luck. I wonder who won the baby stakes.

Oh!

Supposing I'd been on it! (Tuts)

Ah! Where do I go?

- Hey! I can walk, you know.

- Nobody walks in 'ere.

- Any chance of walking out?

- We've got to do the job proper.

- Over here, Mr York.

- Right, nurse.

- Thanks for the ride, boys.

- Give us a write-up in the papers.

- Will you get into bed, please?

- I um...didn't have time to get my pyjamas.

Oh, that's all right. You won't need any just now.

Thanks.

- What's he got, then, Mick?

- Appendicitis.

Ten days' job.

Cor blimey! Only ten days.

When I think how easily that could have

been avoided, I could kick myself, I tell you.

Did you hear what I said then?

I said I could kick myself!

Kick myself, with that on, I said!

I think that's very funny, Mick! Don't you, Mick?

(Laughs raucously)

- Hello, Mick.

- Hello, Mr Able.

- There you are.

- What's that? A shroud?

No, an operating gown.

(Buzzer)

(Impatient buzzing)

Your turn.

Yes, Colonel?

I want to see that ward orderly chap - Mick.

You can't.

It's our job to answer the buzzer, not his.

You've only been here half a day and you've

called us a dozen times for no good reason.

Now, do try and remember

the buzzer's only for emergencies.

- This is an emergency.

- What kind of an emergency?

Every time Mick comes in here, he stays

too long. I don't know what you find to talk about.

I dare say you don't. There's some things we

men talk about it's better for women not to know.

- I can imagine that.

- I doubt it, young lady. I doubt it.

Well, what do you want him for?

What can he do for you that I can't? Tell me that.

Ho-ho-ho! Don't tempt me, girl.

Just tell Mick I want him, would you, please?

All right. Just this once.

(Knocking)

Ah, Mick, my boy. That's right, shut the door.

- Now then, dictation. Got your notebook?

- Yes, sir.

Good. Here we are, then.

Bob each way, the Black Prince.

That's the 3:
30 at Chepstow.

Black Prince, 3:
30 at Chepstow.

Half a dollar to win, Rambler.

R-A-M-B-L-E-R.

Now that's the 4:15 at Redcar.

4:
15, Redcar.

- That's all, I think.

- Right, Colonel.

Well, you just settle down, Colonel.

I'll wait for the results.

- Oh, get me 20 Player's, would you, please?

- Yes, sir.

- Don't bother about that.

- (Clears throat)

- Good afternoon. Name?

- Oh. Good afternoon. York. Edward York.

- Address?

- 24 Passiondale Avenue.

- Age?

- 35.

- Occupation?

- News...paper reporter.

- Relax.

- I was covering the baby show.

- Next of kin?

- No.

Religion?

Which lot has the best record of recovery?

I'm very busy. Come along, now. C of E?

- False teeth?

- No.

- Glass eye?

- No!

And before you go any further,

the rest of me is my own!

Sign, please. Consent for general anaesthetic.

- Ooh!

- Relax.

- Hello. I'm Mick.

- Hi, Mick.

- What's her trouble?

- Oh, night starvation.

- Going to shave you.

- Shave?

My appendix isn't on my face!

I'm not going to shave your face!

(Impatient buzzing)

- Yes, Colonel?

- I'm all crumby!

If you will stuff yourself

with those crumbly biscuits...

Well, I have to have some pleasure, damn it.

Hop out and I'll take the crumbs away.

- Where's that fella Mick got to?

- He's doing something for Sister.

Can I help?

Not unless you know what won

the 4:
15 at Redcar, you can't.

- Oh, you and your racing. All right, get in.

- Thank you.

Oh, I wish you wouldn't eat those biscuits!

I eat biscuits, my girl, to calm my nerves.

Rambler won it. 3-1.

- Comfy now?

- Yes.

Rambler, do you say?

Hoo-hoo! Ha-ha-ha! Good old Rambler!

(Chuckles) Oh, we'll have a new one now.

- Ooph!

- I warned you.

Thank you.

- Sister...

- I'm not a sister, I'm a staff nurse.

Oh? How do I tell the difference?

Student nurses wear big hats.

We call them butterflies.

- You call them what?

- Butterflies.

-Ah, I like that.

- They don't.

And staff nurses wear these. Got it?

Yes. I think you're wonderful.

Relax, Mr York.

Oh!

Nurse Dawson!

Is it your intention to wreck my ward?

- Wh-who are you?

- I'm a nurse.

You're in hospital, but you're all right.

(Sighs)

- Let's have a beer.

- You can't have a beer, Mr York.

She'll give me a beer. I'll go...

Cor!

- Somebody stabbed me!

- Lie still, you've got a drain in you.

Now that you've made my bed...you can lie on it!

- Mmm!

- Why, Mr York!

Mr York!

Oh, I'm sorry, Staff.

I was just trying to get Mr York to settle down.

- For life?

- Lovely!

(Laughs deliriously)

When you're on night duty, nurse,

always carry a couple of sleeping pills with you.

There isn't always time to go and fetch them.

Yes, Staff. Thank you.

Buck up, there's another patient coming in.

Cor, what a place.

Bath, sluice room, sterili... Jane!

Look, my hand's all right. I keep

telling everybody. I don't have to come here.

(Impatient buzzing)

- All you need is just to rub it.

I don't like this place at all.

There's lights, and bells, and buzzers...

Come on, babe.

Excuse me, miss.

I think there's been a bit of a mistake.

- I don't have to stay here, you see.

- Through there, please.

I'm not going in. It's full of sick people.

I'll catch something.

You've already got something. Go in!

Ah. Mr Bishop? Come in, will you, please?

Now, will you please get into bed?

Look er...miss, I'm quite all right, you see.

I've sprained my wrist in a fight before.

All I need is a bit of the old massage.

- Your X-ray shows a dislocation and fracture.

- Well, the X-ray's wrong.

- It's just a sprain.

- Shall I give you a hand?

No, that won't be necessary, thanks.

- Bernie, you do as you're told.

- Yeah, but the point is, all...

(Sighs) I don't know.

All right, darling.

Kiss the baby for me.

Now, Mr Bishop, will you sit down, please?

Hey! Mr Hickson!

- Mr Hickson!

- Hm?

What? What?

Bernie Bishop's just come in. The boxer.

He's hurt his hand.

- What do you expect me to do? Stand...

- Ssh!

Stand up and cheer?

Do me a favour, will you? Go to sleep.

Sorry. I thought you were a fan.

Let's all get a bit of peace.

This is a madhouse.

I'll be glad when I get home.

Bernie Bishop, he says. Bernie... (Snorts)

Cor! What a punch, though.

He landed in Row F.

Well, don't worry. They'll soon fix that hand

so that you don't roll on it when you're asleep.

- Stand up, please.

- OK.

- There.

- Right.

- Now...

- Eh? What? What, what?

- Well, you can't sleep in those.

- That's quite all right.

- I can er...take 'em off.

- With one hand?

Yeah, I can manage. Thank you.

You two ladies, turn your backs, please.

Good. Wait a... Hey, what's going on?

You can't do...!

What a sauce! Nurse! Please!

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