The National Health Page #7

Yeah, my eldest girl, she's six,

she looked at me, you know the

way they do, very threatening?

I thought

"Hello, what have I done now?"

She said:
"Daddy, you're the only one

that hasn't waggled my loose tooth."

Dr Westland to Scatari Ward, please.

Dr Westland to Scatari Ward, please.

Afternoon, Chaplain.

How are you, Mr Mackie?

I'm not Mr Mackie.

I've got Mr Mackie down

for the end bed.

He's dead.

Ah.

Night before last,

to the terminal ward.

Oh dear, somebody slipped up

on the paperwork again.

Too many cooks spoil the broth.

Sorry I haven't popped in sooner,

but I was giving the Last Unction

to a patient in Sherpa Tensing Ward.

So I thought, while I was in

this neck of the woods,

I'd kill two birds with one stone.

Was Mr Mackie C of E?

He hadn't got no time for religion.

Ah well, they always put

"C of E" for that.

It saves a lot of paperwork.

Good afternoon.

I have a message for you.

God so loved the world,

that He gave His only begotten son,

that whosoever believeth in Him

should not perish, but have...

everlasting life.

I see by the paper they' re trying

to bring back capital punishment.

Some Member of Parliament.

They come down our street.

Petitions, you know.

A list of signatures.

They wanted me to sign

to bring back hanging.

I said no fear.

- Did you?

- Oh yes. "No fear!", I said.

Well done!

Hangings too good for 'em.

They ought to be slowly

tortured to death.

Well...

I must love you and leave you.

Nice to have a natter, though.

And your friend over there?

Mr Foster.

Just bend his ear for a moment.

Mr Foster!

Come along, squire. Wakey-wakey!

Nurse! Sister!

I'm afraid this patient

doesn't seem too well.

Stafford Cripps speaking.

I've got a cardiac arrest - B for Bertie.

Cardiac and defibrillator trolleys,

please. Thank you.

All you patients back to bed, please.

Better try some

external cardiac depression.

On the floor, don't you think?

The bed's too soft.

Defibrillator trolley to

Stafford Cripps Ward. Urgently, please.

Defibrillator trolley to Stafford

Cripps Ward. Urgently, please.

- No joy?

- No.

- Here!

- Sorry!

We've tried mouth-to-mouth

and cardiac compression.

Well, give him oxygen.

No spanner!

Find a spanner, Mr Barnet.

Nurse Sweet...

I wish people would put things

back where they found them!

Defibrillator trolley to

Stafford Cripps Ward. Urgently, please.

Defibrillator trolley to Stafford

Cripps Ward. Urgently, please.

There you are!

Mr Barnet!

How many slices

can you eat, this patient?

One round is all I'm allowed, Nurse.

How many sugars?

Stand back!

How many slices

can you eat, this patient?

How many sugars?

Will Dr Singh please report

to Bannister Ward. Thank you.

Well?

He's fine.

He's pinked up pretty well.

Now it's up to the medical team

to watch for signs of rejection.

How's Cleo?

She'll be...

she'll be okay.

Guess I'll go have a look at her.

Johnny.

What can I say?

It's not easy.

To err is human,

to forgive - divine.

Who said that?

Some white boy.

The devil makes work

for idle hands, eh?

Will all available staff

report to casualty immediately.

Will all avai...

High level louvres on the windows.

King's Fund beds

with slimline mattresses.

Into the jet age with one big jump!

Kenny's back.

By George, no!

Young Kenny.

Motorbike mad.

A new patient in this ward, Sister?

Why'?

He was on his bike, Matron.

He swerved to avoid a dog,

and made a school bus

go into a cement mixer.

Casualty's jammed solid, patients

being allocated to any available wards.

Oh dear!

He must have nine lives.

Patients are reminded that

record requests for Radio Battenburg

mus'! be made before

half-past eight am. Thank you.

How's my clever boy getting on, then?

Sitting up and taking notice? Hm?

Look what the nice nurse

has brought you.

There, you like those, don't you?

There's a clever boy!

Now we take that one and that one.

All right, princess?

Any sign of the ambulance

coming yet, Nurse?

Wherever's the fire, Mr Flagg?

You can't wait to get away from us.

Oh no, ifs not that!

No.

Only I could have been home,

you know, in ten minutes on the bus.

I could have had a cup of tea

with the old woman,

and used a toilet with a decent chain.

I, er, I suppose young Ken arouses

your old interest in boys, eh?

Once a teacher, always a teacher.

Eh, Kenny?

Oh yeah.

Yeah. And he's going to need

some teaching and all,

wherever they put him.

And if society sees fit to condemn

me to a life of clerical drudgery,

I shall do whatever I can,

shan't I, son?

Welfare work combined

with harmless pleasure.

You can't beat it!

Now, come on, you have a go.

That's it.

You got a better prospect than me.

I'm all booked in for the cure.

Some great barn of a place,

miles from sodding civilization.

Oh, now here's a funny piece.

Where do you think

this perisher goes, eh?

Oh, Jesus Christ all-bleeding-mighty!

Humorous, really, when you think

of me out India way, Africa, Malaya...

Port Swettenham...

Penang, Kuala Lumpur.

I had fifty wogs under me at one time.

Gurkhas some of 'em.

I was a sahib.

How are you, Kenny?

Smiling through?

Wonderful spirit!

Miss Loach, Mrs Flagg, there's

an ambulance outside for you.

Jesus Christ, God!

- Oh, I... I had a bag!

- It's here.

No turning back now.

Well, you'll be out soon.

Oh yes, as soon as they arrest

the spread of my eczema.

- And you take care.

- Oh, yes, yes.

After you've been in here some time,

the outside world can seem

like the headlong rush of the

Gadarene Swine, they tell me.

Cheer up, son.

Cheerio, Cambridge.

If you feel like

dropping in some time,

they say there's a Green Line bus

not too far off.

Ah, right, thanks.

And, er, good luck.

Er... you were going to ask

your landlady about the room.

Ooh, as a matter of fact, I think

it's probably gone, but, erm...

- You can ask?

- Er, yes.

Cheerio, Ken!

That's right, Kenny,

you shoot me dead.

I'd appreciate that, the prospect

I've got, f***ing great barn of a place!

You know, son, we speak the

most beautiful language in the world.

The tongue that Shakespeare spake.

And yet most of the people you meet

can utter nothing better

than a string of filth.

Oh, Ted.

Don't let anyone catch you,

all right?

What do I owe you?

Well, with the money for the gee-gees,

let's say, er...

three quid. Call it square.

How does it come to three quid?

Well, I've got my overheads to cover,

haven't I?

Mind you, I think one should be able to mix

without actually lowering standards.

Like the time I took

my slum boys camping.

What's more, I tried an experiment.

Paired them off with college boys.

Nicely spoken lads, you know.

The ragamuffins visibly rose.

They actually raised themselves.

My mother said "Under their rags,

they're perfect gentlemen."

But this is the crux

of the matter, son.

The college boys

were totally unscathed.

And that is the secret

of the governing class.

Secret of the Royal Family.

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