The doorman of a nightclub can always pretend
that it's lipstick and not blood on his hands.
But how did it get there?
Let's be economical. Nothing fancy.
If he'd smacked some dame across her shiny mouth,
then he's got both answers in one.
Gawd bless you.
Gawd bless ya, guv! Gawd bless ya!
Cockles of me... Real gent, y'are!
Ah, thank you, sir.
Jolly well done, old fruit.
And so the man went down the hole like Alice.
But there were no bunny rabbits down there.
It wasn't that sort of hole. It was a rat-hole.
I've got you under my skin
I've got you...
Into the rat-hole. Down, down, down.
The one thing you don't do in one of those
is to underestimate the rats in residence.
No, sir. The way those creatures nibble
and gnaw at your soft underbelly can do a lot of damage to your nerves.
Your tea, Mr Tomkey!
Teatime! Come along.
Come along. No more nodding off now.
Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear.
You can't expect to sleep at night if you do so in the afternoon.
Let's try not to spill it today. Ah-ah.
Now, now. You're not helping, are you?
Will you kindly take a look at that trolley?
Just look at it, Reginald. Stopped again.
It's worse than a No. 11 bus. And why has it stopped?
So that gaga old bugger can spill his tea down his pajamas.
The tea, Reginald, will be cold, my boy, won't it?
- Won't it? - What's that, Mr Hall?
- The tea. - Oh, yeah. It'll be cold.
No, sir. The way those creatures gnaw and nibble
can do a lot of damage to your nerves.
Full stop. New paragraph.
But there's one thing you've got to admit. Full stop.
A rat always knows where its tail is.
A rat always knows where its tail is,
but when Mark Binney entered Skinskape's,
he might as well never have learned the difference
between his tail and his elbow.
Good evening, sir.
What's your poison? What'll it be?
Oh! God!
Concentrate. Concentrate.
Evening, sir. What's your poison?
- What'll it be? - Well, company for a start.
It's early yet, sir. But you're first, so you'll have the pick.
- But of what? - The apples on the bough, sir.
- What do you drink, sir? - Scotch and soda.
Just the stuff, eh? And for the young lady?
What?
- Hello, sugar. - Oh, well, hello, yourself... sugar.
- What would you like...? - Champagne, toots.
Ah, yes. Of course.
Sugar.
Toots.
Hey, back in time for the tea party.
Bed 11... Bed 11... Bed 11...
Bed 11, it's a way up from heaven.
Here we go.
You reach?
- Stand up, hmm? - Can't.
- Bed 11. You're home now. - Can't. Can't get up.
OK. Let's be locking these wheels, then, low-roller.
OK.
- Let's get this nightie off. - Draw the curtains.
- Ah-ah. We're all boys together. - Draw the bloody curtains!
Rass!
Enough to put you off your bread and jam, if they gave you any.
Poor sod.
We all suffer, Reginald. Some of us choose not to show it, that's all.
-Teatime! - That's why we're penalized.
You OK? You want any help?
You OK?
Enough to put you off your bread and jam if they gave you any.
Sugar.
Poor sod.
Toots.
Rass, man!
I've got you under my skin
Deep in the heart of me
Bastards!
I'll wipe you out!
Don't you know who I am? I'm the...
I'm the Singing Detective.
Right.
Come on...
Come on. Oh!
Come on!
Jesus. Help me.
- Tea, Ali. - Tea. No bread. No cake. Tea.
Please.
- Tea. No bread. No cake. Tea. - Please.
- What? - Say "please", Ali. Not "what".
- "Please", thank you very much. - Tea. Thank you very much.
- "Tea, PLEASE." - Tea, please. Thank you very much.
There's a good chap.
Tea. No bloody bread. No bloody cake.
Tea.
Mr...? Mr Marlow, what are we trying to do?
We've got to stop doing this.
Why? Why is it that when you lose your health,
the entire medical profession takes it as axiomatic
you've also lost your mind?
Now, now. We'll have none of that. Here we go.
Now, what were we trying to do, hmm?
- It was rather silly-billy. - I was trying to get my pajama top.
- My sodding bloody buggering... - Mr Marlow!
My ickle jacket, please. I want my closey-woseys.
Really.
-Come along. -
Come on. You're not helping me.
Reginald, are we going to do anything or just accept it?
- What? - What I'm talking about is justice.
- Justice, Reginald. - Yeah.
Cold tea never did anybody any harm - at least, I don't suppose so -
but injustice, that's another matter.
- Injustice eats at your insides. - Teatime!
She should turn right every other time, that ugly nurse.
God, she is ugly. Don't you think she's one of the ugliest, meanest,
nastiest bitches ever to walk the earth, eh?
- Eh? - What?
Why don't you move your bed?
- What for? - Next to that bloody Paki. Go on.
- No, thanks. - Well, you're no company, are you?
No bloody company! Always got your snout in a book.
- Nose, Mr Hall. This is a nose. - And it's always in a book!
I might as well be stuck in the desert.
Living hell, that's what this is.
A living hell.
How are we, Mr Hall? Ready for tea?
The would be very nice, Staff Nurse. Thank you very much. Oh, cakie!
He thinks you should turn right sometimes.
- What? - No, no, no.
Just sharing a little repartee with my young friend.
- He says something should be done. - Shut your mouth, Reginald.
By the time you get here, it's cold or stewed to buggery.
- Language, Mr Dibbs. - Very welcome you are in this bed,
whichever way you turn.
I'm not a tart. A girl's got to live, ain't she?
Hello, sugar. Hello, yourself... sugar.
- Would you like...? - Champagne, toots.
Ah, yes. Of course...
Of course...
Oh, God!
Cigarette. I want a cigarette.
Cigarette, sugar? Toots?
Faggy-waggy, nursey.
Ali. Ali!
- What do you want? - Get my cigarettes for me, will you?
- Please. - What?
Say "please", not "what", thank you very much.
Oh, for Christ's sake!
- No cigarettes. - All right, then - please.
Please... you bastard.
Doctor say if something wrong here and you bloody smoking cigarettes,
there's something wrong here as well.
- No cigarette. - That's you heart patients, nig-nog!
I'm skin, Ali. Skin. How many more times?
I must stay in bed.
Doctor say, "Stay in bed, nig-nog!"
He said that? The doctor said that?
Ah, I've seen you padding about half the night, you sly old sod.
- Talking to Allah or somebody. - Oh, no. Bloody God, no.
Look, Ali, don't be a hypocrite. I'm dying for a cigarette.
Love your little brown chops.
OK, OK. Bloody dog, me.
They keep putting them on my locker. "Tidying my trolley."
All morons with a mania for order
put everything you want where you can't get it.
Do you know how many "O" levels you have to fail to be a nurse?
Blessings on your head, old son.
No bloody flame.
Conviction. Do it with conviction!
Oh, my God.
Turn it down! The wheel! The little wheel, Ali.
Good.
I could see the headlines - "Another Asian Burnt to Death."
No. That wouldn't make the headlines anymore.
Not now the National Front are investing in tandoori ovens.
- Good? - Good? It's bloody marvelous!
All my hopes and desires and fondest aspirations
have finally been reduced to their true dimensions, my old son.
Yes. Your lungs.
Look at that blue smoke, Ali.
See the way it coils and drifts...
Just like every human hope.
Yes, yes. Very bloody wise.
I used to think that all I wanted was the good opinion of honorable men
and the ungrudging love of beautiful women.
Now I know that all I really want is a cigarette.
- Just one more cigarette, Ali. - Poison. It's poison.
One thing about this place, it strips away the unimportant stuff,
like skin, like love, like loyalty, like passion and belief...
Oh!
Oi! I know I'm boring, but surely not that much!
Were you out of bed? Excuse me. I said, were you out of bed?
- No, Doctor Finlay, sir. No. - Yes, you jolly well were!
- What is the point of my...? - It's my fault.
- Oh? - I asked him to get me a cigarette.
You shouldn't. And he shouldn't. You're taking advantage of him.
- In any case, you shouldn't smoke. - You're not MY doctor. Thank God.
Whether I am or not, don't encourage this man to get out of bed.
- You're being selfish. - Listen...
- You're putting his health at risk. - Look here...
- If he dies, you'll be responsible. - It'll be one less, then, won't it?
- What are you talking about? - Immigrants, sunshine.
- Are you having trouble with him? - Yes, sir. I am, Doctor. Please.
Has he been making offensive remarks about your origins?
- Sorry. Origins, please? - Your, er... race or...?
- Sorry. Race, please? - Yes. Your race.
Go on. Tell him, you brown bugger!
Jumped up little snot. Go on. You get out of bed, Ali, old pal.
- No, no. - Well, why not? What's the point?
Why endure one moment more than you have to?
Go on, get of bed. Jump up and down.
Then hold a pillow over my face, and we'll go together. Come on.
At first, comma,
the only sound is the slap hyphen slap of the water
against the boat, comma,
which has its engine switched off. Double space.
The other, comma, natural noises increase
as the naked, drowned body of a beautiful woman is slowly pulled...
What, Mr Marlow?
I had on my best pajamas, the ones with blue forget-me-nots.
I was all dressed up. A million dollars was about to call.
- I was ready for it. - High temperature again, have we?
When she moved her lips like that,
I felt like a tulip when the first raindrop smacked into it.
I decided to open up. Boy, was I green... or do I mean wet?
- Oh, I see. - Your eyes are not for seeing,
they're for being looked at.
We're in a good mood. We're actually talking today.
What do you mean?
According to report, you didn't say one word yesterday. Not for the first time.
- Me? - Yes, you.
They put that sort of thing on report?
Oh, yes. Everything.
- Is that why they...? - Go on, ask.
Is that why they think I'm a bit touched? Loopy?
- No! - What, then?
- Depressed. - Tranquilizers.
No, worse - those antidepressants.
Brain-drainers. Is that why they try to make me swallow them?
- If they help people... - I'm not taking them!
I've got thinking to do. If I don't think, I'll never get out...
- Are you going to grease me? - If you're ready.
Ready as a back-axle.
- Nurse? Nurse? - What is it, Mr Hall?
Could you spare a moment, Nurse, here?
- No. Tell me. - Nurse, please.
Could you come here, please?
You're going to wear us out, aren't you?
Now, what is it?
Beg pardon, my dear. I need the, er... you know... very badly.
- The... contraption. You know. - Contraption? What contraption?
Tuppence. I want to spend tuppence.
Reginald, would you get a bedpan for Mr Hall and close his curtains?
Got the shits again, Pop?
Bit like being in a tent in here, isn't it, with the curtains shut?
Yeah. And the desert all around.
- Shall I do the top or bottom first? - I don't mind.
- Still can't get your pajamas off? - No.
All right. I'll start down below first.
Right, let's get these trousers off.
I'll try not to hurt. Up you come.
- Thanks. - All right.
Relax. We can start now.
Oh, cock, do not crow.
Poor cock, do not stir.
I'll be as gentle as I can.
Think of something boring, for Christ's sake.
Think of something very, very boring.
A speech... A speech by Ted Heath.
A sentence, a long sentence, from Bernard Levin.
A quiz by Christopher Booker. Oh!
No, no. Think. Think. Think. Really boring.
A Welsh male-voice choir. Everything in "Punch"...
- Oh! - Oh, you poor thing.
Oh! Wage rates in Peru. James Burke. "Finnegan's Wake".
All the bloody Irish. The dog in "Blue Peter".
Brian Clough and especially James - Henry and Clive.
Australian barmen, ecologists, semiologists...
Think! Think! The Guardian woman's page... Oh, dear Christ!
The Bible... Oh, God... Reader's Digest Special Draw.
No, no, no... Think Bible...
Bible Psalms. Song of Solomon. "Thy breasts are like..." No! No!
- Oh, I'm sorry. Is that too hard? - Too hard? Yes.
It's... It's like iodine in a cut.
I'm sorry, but it's worst of all inside your thighs.
- I'm being as gentle as I can. - It's not your fault.
I have to lift your penis to grease around it.
My mama done told me
When I was in pigtails
My mama done told me how
A man's gonna sweet talk
And give you the big eye
But when the sweet talking's done
A man is a two-face, a worrisome thing...
She's a real corker, ain't she - Carlotta? I mean, genuinely artistic.
- Top-hole. - And it's right, too.
- What a girl should be told. - I'm sorry?
Well, a guy can get excited, can't he?
- You're telling me. - It's all fizz.
- He'll promise the earth... - You're not eating, Amanda.
No. Well, one can only consume so much, you know?
Where do they get this meat? Real steak.
I haven't seen it since before the war. Six long years of Spam.
Ask no questions, I'll tell no lies.
Still, is it legal? Or is it horse?
- What's up, sugar? - I need the gents.
- Oh, what? Now? - She's nearly done.
- And I've heard the song. - Know where it is, sugar?
I'll find it... toots.
... in the night
I have to lift your penis now to grease around it.
I'm sorry, Nurse. I do beg your pardon.
It's the one part of me that still sort of functions.
- I do beg your pardon. - It's all right. I understand.
- It has a will of its own. - We don't need to talk about it.
No.
- How long have you had this? - Twenty, thirty years.
- As bad as this? - No. It's at its peak now, almost.
I'm losing control of my body temperature.
- I keep going over the top. - Yes.
I think... I think I tend to hallucinate a bit.
That happens.
I thought there was a cat in the bed this morning - in it, not on it -
meticulously chewing off my toes, one by one.
I'm trying not to hurt you.
Sometimes these hallucinations are better than the real thing.
People can sing in them or dance. I don't mind. I like pictures.
You write detective stories, don't you?
- Who told you that? - Oh, a little bird.
Well, the little bird is wrong. I used to.
- Hey. - Got to work.
- Sorry. - I've got to work.
A man's got to work. Somehow, I've got to work.
Hey, now...
You'd think my mother would have had more sense
than to call me Philip with a name like Marlow.
Philip Marlow. It hasn't got an "E" on the end, but it sounds the same.
- Same as what? - Philip Marlowe.
You've heard of him surely?
Christ Almighty.
What else could I have done except write detective stories?
She should have called me Christopher.
I don't suppose you've heard of him either.
This way?
Thank you.
I'm so sorry, ladies. Looking for the gents.
Gawd bless ya, guv. Real gent, y'are.
Goodbye, old fruit.
Why is it so hot?
On the...
On the sunny...
On the sunny side of the street
Grab your coat and grab your hat...
Find it all right?
- Er, yes. I found it all right. - What's up, sugar?
It's hot in here. Baking.
- I feel as if I'm burning up. - God. You're dripping.
That shows a passionate nature, sugar.
And what about you?
You seem very cool to me.
Only when I'm upright.
Not another bottle?!
You have to keep coughing up if you want my company. Ain't I worth it?
- No need to drink it, though. - What? At £21O/- a bottle?
- Mark... It is Mark? - As in the second gospel.
- What do you mean? - Never mind.
Mark, this is my friend Sonia.
Hello.
- Sonia likes a tip, Mark. - Oh.
Thank you.
Well... let's hope I get something back for all this.
- That all depends, don't it? - On what?
On what you mean.
I'm sorry. It's awfully hot in here.
Why am I so hot?
Philip! Philip! Philip!
Hot...
Why is it so hot?
Good morning.
Good morning to you. Let me see. You are Mr...?
- Marlow, sir. - Of course. How are you feeling?
- Er... Not very... - Very inflamed. Extensive lesions.
- Temperature still too high. - Marked arthrosis.
Difficult. Difficult.
How long have you had this psoriatic arthropathy?
- Um, twenty... - Twenty-five years.
How much movement in the joints?
He's had hydrocortisone injections in all major joints, including toes.
Tootsie-wootsies, eh?
Prednisone and then Prednisolone in bursts, then for longer periods,
but with Betnovate and Dermovate under total occlusive dressings.
Well, you can see the damage.
Latterly, with such occlusions, one might have to describe it as...
Iatrogenic.
Hmm... History?
Um, prior to this, pretty usual sequence of events.
Precise. Be precise!
Initially, coal tar, but then injections -
Butazolidin, Indomethacin - not successful.
The short courses, Prednisone, Prednisolone, lengthening.
Then Methotrexate, after a positive liver biopsy...
- Vomiting. - Vomiting.
- Finally withdrawn. - Ten years of occlusive dressings,
corticosteroid ointments each night.
- Razoxane. - Also cytotoxic.
Which induced neutropenia. Wart-like lesions removed. Withdrawn.
Hmm...
I've seen cases as bad as this in Baltimore. Not many.
Will you try one of the retinoids?
Mmm...
- I would have said so. - Worth a try.
- Hmm... - Er... Excuse me.
This hyperventilation. Any odd thoughts in the brain-box, old chap?
On Tuesday, he insisted a cat was chewing at his feet.
- Isn't that so? - Yes. Attacking his toes.
Tootsie-wootsies, hmm?
- We don't allow cats in the ward. - Quite so. Quite so.
Well, now. There's one other drug which might be some help, Mr, er...
- Marlow. - How do you feel
about trying one of the new retinoids, hmm?
Do you understand the question?
Er, no. I don't think so.
Would you like to try one of the new...
I don't understand because I've regressed
into a helpless and pathetic condition of total dependency
of a kind normally associated with infancy.
- What's he say? - The last time I experienced this
was in my bloody pram, being drooled over by slobbering cretins...
- Mr Marlow! ...who'd escaped from the loony bin.
They thought they were doctors and nurses!
Very good!
Tell me, what do you do for a living, Mr, er...?
Forgive me. What USED you to do by way of earning a crust?
- I'm an author. - Oh. I didn't realize.
- Detective stories. - Oh. How interesting.
Will you listen to me, please? Will you please, please, listen to me?
Well, what is it?
I can't talk to you lying flat out like this.
Can you prop me up a bit, please?
Thank you.
What is it you wish to say?
I just think that... Listen... Just listen to me...
I... I've reached the end...
- Oh. Of what? - My tether.
Oh, hush now.
I'd like... Christ, I'd... I'd like to get out of it.
I can't stand... I... Truly, I cannot stand it.
I can't... get on top of it.
I can't see clear of it. I can't... find my way through it.
And if I don't admit it, I'll never, never beat it,
I'll never, never...
Oh, tears. Even bloody tears...
Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. The shame of this...
Even tears, oozing bloody tears, hurt the skin on my face, and...
Laugh? It hurts my jaw!
God! Talk about the Book of Job!
I'm a prisoner inside my own skin and bones.
-Librium. - Valium.
- Antidepressants. - And a barbiturate.
- Barbiturate! - Antidepressants!
- Valium! - And Librium!
Ezekiel cried, "Dem dry bones!"
Now hear the word of the Lord!
Ezekiel connected dem dry bones
Now hear the word of the Lord
And your toe bone connected to your foot bone
Your foot bone connected to your heel bone
Your heel bone connected to your ankle bone
Your ankle bone connected to your leg bone
Your leg bone connected to your knee bone
Your knee bone connected to your thigh bone
Your thigh bone connected to your hip bone
Your hip bone connected to your back bone
Your back bone connected to your shoulder bone
Your shoulder bone connected to your neck bone
Your neck bone connected to your head bone
Now hear the word of the Lord!
Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk around
Dem bones, dem bones gonna...
Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk around
Now hear the word of the Lord!
Disconnect dem bones, dem dry bones
Now hear the word of the Lord!
Your head bone connected from your neck bone
Your neck bone connected from your shoulder bone
Your shoulder bone connected from your back bone
Your back bone connected from your hip bone
Your hip bone connected from your thigh bone
Your thigh bone connected from your knee bone
Your knee bone connected from your leg bone
Your leg bone connected from your ankle bone
Your ankle bone connected from your heel bone...
Philip! Philip, come back, Philip!
Now hear the word of the Lord!
Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones
- Now hear the word of the Lord! - Oooh!
- Yes, Lord! - Hallelujah!
Amen!
Now hear the word of the Lord!
Would you like to see the padre? Would that help at all?
- Or a psychiatrist. - Looks like it to me.
Hmm... Good day to you.
Keep your pecker up, old chap.
Philip! Come on, old buddy.
Where bist, Philip?
Philip? Come th'on, old buddy.
Philip?
Hey? Hey?
- Sorry. What? - He say when you go?
- What? - Go out.
Oh, for Christ's sake, Ali.
- Out. Out of this bloody place! - Where to, old mate?
There's no place else to go. Besides, I like it here. I'm gonna stay.
- I'm never going to leave. - Oh, shut up.
You've forgotten what it's like in the real world, Ali.
Listen. Listen to me. It's not safe out there.
They chew each other up out there.
Get me one of my cigarettes, would you, Ali? There's a pal.
Ali!
I want a cigarette.
There is nothing I can think of which I want more.
Ali!
A smoke.
A length of ash slowly building.
A tube of delight.
Oh, blessed nicotine.
Hot.
Why is it so hot in here?
Gawd. You're drippin'.
That shows a passionate nature, sugar.
I'm not a tart.
But a girl's got to live, ain't she? Put a figure on it.
- A round one? - Around one what?
A nice round figure.
- Ten pounds. - Oh, odd ones is better, sugar.
- Sorry? - Fifteen, sugar.
- This is a very expensive evening. - I'm not being greedy.
- It's not for lickle me. - Who's it for? Your sick mother.
I thought you was a nice guy. I thought this was going to be nice.
- I'm used to pigs at the trough... - All right, fifteen.
Let's hope you're worth it.
Oh, I'm good.
I'm very very wizard.
About the only thing I am good at - bed.
Mark, this is my friend Sonia.
Hello.
Well, let's hope I get...
- Let's hope I get... - That you get something back?
- You know what I mean. - We can't leave with customers, can we?
- No. - Sonia don't talk much, do she?
- Why should she? - She's from Russia.
- She's only been here a few months. - Really? From where in Russia?
Leningrad.
What are you two jabbering?
Your Russian, it is not bad. Not good.
Well, it's a long time since I've used it.
You can order champagne for Sonia, too. They let you do that.
- They? - I get commission.
Ah, and what do I get?
Guess.
Would you like to see the padre?
- Would that help at all? - Or a psychiatrist?
What do I get?
Guess.
Would you like to see the padre? Would that help?
Or a psychiatrist?
Perhaps.
The captain is asleep.
We are drifting off unanchored into the dark.
We are lost. All of us. Lost.
Stop it. Bloody rubbish.
Mabel.
What's going on? What are you...? What are you doing?
- Where you been, Mabel, eh? - What are you doing?!
- What are you...?! Get off! - Where you been, eh?
- Come on. -My God!
- Where've you been, Mabel, eh? - Get off! Ah! God! Get off!
What's going on? Stop that! Stay in your own beds!
- Nurse! - Oh! You naughty boys!
Help me! Help me!
Get off! Get off, you silly sod!
- You dirty old devil! - Nurse!
Nurse! Oh, God! Nurse!
Nurse! Get off!
Bloody beds!
It was cold waiting for Amanda to come out.
The air was like an Eskimo's mother-in-law - bitter and icy.
But not as icy as the heart which beat under his cashmere coat.
He intended to warm himself on her overpriced flesh.
Work and pleasure, and a kiss before dying.
Binney stared. He did not expect to see the two of them together.
What was cooking?
Hello, sugar. Ain't you got a taxi yet?
None around. It is half past three in the morning.
There'll be one. There's always a taxi. My momma done told me.
I see. Magician, are you?
- A wizard. I told you. - Are you...?
You don't mind if we give my friend a lift, do you?
Well...
- Where to, guv? - Shall we drop you off first, Sonia?
He wondered whether Amanda was as dumb as she sounded.
You can't tell what a dame's up to when she flaps her eyelashes.
- Good afternoon. How are we today? - I'm not very well.
- I don't know about him. - Sorry?
- Or perhaps you mean you? - I don't follow.
You said, "How are WE today?" I wondered who the others or other...
- Come, come. A manner of speaking. - And a very tedious one, too.
Not feeling too great? Well, that's not surprising.
You're having a tough time.
I'm impressed by your astonishing powers of deduction,
which surpass even those of the great Holmes himself...
- Now, now. ...but I am trying to work.
- Work? - Do you think writing isn't work?
- No. Of course not. - Or do you labor under the delusion
that it consists solely and entirely of putting words on a page
without thought, without planning...
as if I were a Sunday Times journalist.
- Ah, I see what you mean. - Do you, now?
It must be hellishly ticklish
to work out a plot in a detective story.
I suppose you have to scatter clues all over the place.
- Yeah. Like throwing grit to hens. - I'd like to read one of your...
Out of print, all of them. And why not, I say?
The hens wouldn't lay, the cock wouldn't crow.
- I see. - For Christ's sake.
For Christ's sake!
Mr Marlow, do you think you have the right attitude towards your illness?
Do you? I mean, that's the really interesting question. Your attitude.
Partly, yes. But you should consider...
- Will I ever be free of it? - Well, that's something...
Will I ever be able to move properly?
Will I ever be able to hold a pen again? Tell me that.
Come on. Never mind the blather. I can get that from a doctor, Doctor.
You ask as though someone else was responsible for your condition,
but no one is, or at least, in the unlikely event that anyone is,
then that someone cannot be anyone other than yourself, can it?
Oh, what are you talking about? It's not your job to be cryptic.
I have occasionally seen patients who are just as bad,
sometimes worse than you are,
but it's fair to say that none of them reacts with such aggression...
- What do they do? Sing madrigals? - They don't rail against the world
or behave like they've fallen into a sewer.
Are you trying to say I should take the tranquilizers?
Or is it a deodorant you've got in mind?
I think you should take the tranquilizers for a while.
- No! I won't! - That's up to you, of course.
No one's going to ram them down your throat.
But where are you going to find any equanimity?
What?
It's an embarrassing question, even between husbands and wives,
but what do you believe in?
- Malthusianism. - Come again?
Malthus, but mandatorily.
Compulsory depopulation by infanticide, suicide, genocide
or whatever other means suggest themselves.
AIDS. That'll do. Why should queers be so special?
- I see. - I also believe in cigarettes,
cholesterol, alcohol,
carbon monoxide, masturbation, the Arts Council,
nuclear weapons, the Daily Telegraph
and not properly labeling fatal poisons,
but above all else, I believe in the one thing
that can come out of people's mouths - vomit.
I want you to think carefully about what I'm going to say.
There's a very good man at the hospital.
Very alert and sympathetic. I'd like you to talk to him.
What? Alert and what? What are you talking about?
- Who is he? He'll get struck off. - Dr Gibbon.
Doctor of what? Skin? Joints? Monkeys?
The decline and fall of the Roman Empire?
What's he got to be alert and sympathetic about?
He's a... Well, he's a psychotherapist.
- Very good man. You'd get on with him. - Get stuffed!
Y-You are out of order.
- I won't be spoken to in this way. - Then F-U-C- off, sir.
We will speak again. Good afternoon.
Good afternoon.
Hey.
Hey!
Hey.
What do you want? How are things in Gloccamora?
- He say when you go? - Christ Almighty. Where? Handsworth?
Didn't he say when? When you go out, hey?
We're never getting out. This is our home on the range, old pal.
Well, the hotplate, anyway.
Don't talk rubbish. We are.
We are. Any bloody time now.
Yeah, we will, one day.
Arm-in-arm, together, eh? Like Alcock and Brown.
You can be Brown.
We are never going to get out of this bloody place.
- You're right. Never! - Yes, we are, Ali.
Come on. We'll break a popadom together.
I promise you that, Ali. I promise.
Hey! Hey!
Christ. What is it now? Call the Samaritans, would you?
- You want sweet? - How about sour?
- That's more my line. - You want sweet?
No, thanks, Ali. My jaws hurt. Thanks, Ali. Thanks all the same.
Some other time, eh, sweetheart?
You have sweet. I have a lot of sweets.
You have sweet, I have sweet, and we say up the arse, eh?
Yeah. Up the arse.
Ali?
Ali!
God! Nurse!
Nurse!
Nurse?
Ali? Ali? Call 199.
Hurry!
Plug that in. Get that headboard off.
I'll take over the breathing. Put his arms down.
Thank you, Nurse.
Set up a drip.
What's the rhythm? Give me the paddles.
Set it for 2O.
Stand clear, everyone.
Give me 4O.
Stand clear, everyone.
Set up a drip. Give me the adrenalin.
One last try. Stand clear, everyone.
Fixed and dilated, I'm afraid.
OK. That's it.
- Time, Staff? - 14.37.
Record that as time of death.
- Oh, you are untidy! -Who is? What?
Dropping your sweeties all over the place.
- Oh, they're not... - Try and be more careful, shall we?
Yeah, I'm sorry.
- Shall I unwrap one for you? - Rather have a cigarette.
- I'm not giving you one of those... - You shouldn't smoke.
- I don't know why they allow it. - Yes. Quite right. They might make me ill.
- Have you been greased yet? - No.
You should have been. Why tell us now?
Did I say anything? Did I? Jesus Christ on a bike.
It's all right, Staff. I'll do it before I go off.
It makes you a bit more comfortable, doesn't it... eventually?
I'm... All right. I will have a sweet now, Nurse, please.
What's the matter?
Nothing.
Do you want something for the pain?
They're very nice, these sweets, Nurse.
Very nice indeed.
I'll find out. I'll find out.
I'll find out things.
I'll find out. I'll find out who done it.