The National Health Page #6

Close down the luxury trains!

Dear oh dear, are you still

sowing discontent?

Get the striptease girls

back to the farms!

It's all right for him,

going out to India lording it.

I'm not sorry the Labour government

gave it back to its rightful owners.

What's his trouble then,

the old fella?

Cancer.

That what the smell is?

Come along ladies, back to bed.

What's up now?

Well, it's Matron's rounds, isn't it?

A nation doesn't grow great

without a sense of duty.

Now come on, Mr Mackie.

Try to behave yourself

while Matron's here.

Without a vision of destiny.

Look, mixed marriages

advocated on television.

Going against nature.

Proved scientifically that some

races are genetically inferior.

- Churchill knew this.

- Hush, now, there's a good boy.

Inspired us with purpose.

- Matron's coming.

- Call Dr Bird for Mr Mackie.

- Ah, good morning, Sister.

- Morning, Matron.

Mrs Sitara, Mrs Bandari.

Shall we do a round?

Ah, good morning.

How are you today?

That's right! Keep smiling!

You'll soon be out of here.

Good morning,

and how are you today?

Morning, Matron.

Not so dusty, thank you.

- That's the style!

- When you consider half my tummy's...

- Keep it up!

- Been taken away.

Good morning.

How are you getting on?

Eh?

Are they treating you well?

- Oh, not too bad.

- That's right.

Though I'd like to go to a toilet.

Sister, fetch this patient

a bedpan, please.

No, a toilet with a decent chain.

Like I've got at home.

Staff, get Mr Flagg a bedpan.

Nurse, get Mr Flagg a bedpan.

Oh, Nurse Sweet,

get Mr Flagg a bedpan.

- Mr Barnet!

- Hallo!

Bedpan for Mr Flagg!

Good morning.

How are you?

Well, miss. I get these cramps...

- Good!

- I thought the surgeon was...

Soon be out of here!

I don't want the cure!

- Good morning!

- Morning, Matron!

- How are you getting on?

- Lovely! Everything's lovely.

Well, that's what we like to hear.

Isn't it, Sister?

Get well soon!

We need the beds.

You couldn't have waited, could you?

Hey! What's he brought this for?

You said you wanted

to go to the toilet.

No!

I heard you!

Look, she said "Are you all right?".

I said "Not too bad...

"but I'd like a toilet

with a decent chain,

"like I've got at home".

Mr Flagg doesn't want a bedpan.

He only said he was

looking forward to a decent chain.

Look, Pagliacci.

Matron, she says "Do this", we do it.

It's the Royal Command.

All right?

I don't want no bedpan!

Now, come on.

Knickers down and ups-a-daisy.

Pagliacci!

Mr Mackie?

Ah, Doctor.

Oh, nurse, this patient

should have screens round.

- Mr Barnet?

- Hallo.

More screens, please, for Doctor.

Well, they're all being used up there.

Look.

- Nurse!

- Mr Barnet!

Here!

Hey!

Shall I take you off now, Mr Flagg?

I never wanted to come on here.

I know.

But now...

I think you'd better leave me.

Anything I can get you, Dr Bird?

Aspirate a pleural effusion.

Oh yes, er, thank you, Nurse.

He should be in the terminal ward.

- Is Sister busy?

- With Matron.

- Well, will you ask her to arrange it?

- Yes.

And I'll confirm it with the...

with the other ward.

Dr Bird please report to the...

Dr Bird...

- Mr Barnet?

- Hallo?

Mr Mackie to the terminal ward.

Go for a nice long ride now,

Mr Mackie!

Here we go again, eh?

Chuff, chuff, chuff, chuff...

We're removing the beds in this ward

as soon as they fall vacant,

because the whole block is in

for an extensive face-lift.

- Long overdue.

- Yes.

The walls will be in

washable avocado pear,

the curtain, the counterpanes

in Cotswold stone.

High level louvres on the windows,

and King's Fund beds

with slimline mattresses.

Very nice!

Into the jet age with one big jump!

Ah! Another one gone

from there, Sister?

- Yes.

- Good! Keep them moving!

- Good morning, chaps.

- Morning!

Righty-ho!

Old misery guts.

Three times his heart stopped,

and three times they brought him back.

They were just fetching

the artificial respirator

when some daring soul decided

to call it a day.

D'you know, now that pump's

been allowed to pack up,

the ugly expression's gone.

A younger face is showing through.

Look.

You can almost see how once,

someone might even have fancied him.

Fags out, Les.

- Are they ready, Mary?

- On their way, sir.

I am about to risk

Nurse Norton's life

on the slender chance

that my son may live.

Her life wouldn't be worth living

without him.

I know how she feels.

And whose fault is it

his disease was so far advanced?

I tell you, you mustn't say that.

You mustn't think that

even for a moment!

Then why didn't he talk to me

of the pain he must have suffered?

And I wanted so much

to make up to you,

in some way, his broken promise.

Promise?

To make you one of the family.

But Neil doesn't love me.

And I don't love him.

I've never loved him - not like that.

Mary!

It's true, I tell you!

You mean...?

By heaven, if I were

thirty years younger, I'd...

What has age got to do with love?

Do you know what kind

of a man you'd be getting?

An old fool

that thought he could play God.

Who spent his life saving others.

Neil and Cleo could

transplant their own hearts,

but with kidneys,

they need your dexterity,

old fool or no.

Mine and Mr Monk's.

Mr Boyd?

The donor's anesthetized.

Thank you, Nurse.

Good luck, sir.

Sister.

Time's slipping away.

All they can think to do

is bang my knees with little hammers.

Come round half a dozen times

a day for a sample of my blood.

If any more of them comes round me

for blood, I shall ask them straight:

what on earth they're doing

with the bleeding stuff!

- This wards a dead and alive hole.

- Jesus!

Beds disappearing

so it gives you the creeps.

I thought you'd come for me

for the cure.

Get Out of Jail Free.

You could have done with that before.

Do I keep that?

Well, couldn't you, me old mate?

Done with that before, eh?

Hey, do you get many

poofs in prison?

Who told you anything

about me being in prison?

Well, you did.

In confidence.

What? Oh yeah.

Still, it's a funny place to put

a poof, though, when you think of it.

Best place for 'em.

Give 'em the cat!

Give them the cat!

They might enjoy it, though.

A few of them.

You've got to be so careful

you don't give people pleasure.

Now don't you agree, eh?

Piccadilly. One hotel.

One thousand two hundred.

No. Soon as I knew I had

this dicky ticker, I said to the wife:

"No Rhine Valley for us, love.

Not this year, anyway.

"Have to make do with day trips."

What's for afters?

Rhubarb crumble for you three.

Semolina for muggins.

I like a bit of stewed rhubarb,

with plenty of sugar.

Fresh from me own allotment.

Some of the nicest holidays have been

day trips, come to think of it.

Park the bus, me and the boys

pitch the tent in the nearest field.

Grandpa-fill get the volcano going.

Soon have a decent cup of tea.

Mother'll give our youngest the breast, and

I'll join the boys for a game of cricket.

You're a lucky man.

I knew it, too. Five lovely kiddies.

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