A doctor called SIMON (Robert Webb) enters with a NURSE. They are pushing a trolley on which is lying a badly injured patient.
SIMON What have we got?
NURSE. Broken arm, suspected internal injuries, severe contusions to the head.
SIMON Then we need to move fast, prep me a solution of Arnica montana, stat.
SIMON One part in a million.
NURSE Are you sure? It looks serious.
SIMON You’re right, we need to strengthen the dose. One part in ten million.
NURSE On it doctor.
A CONSULTANT (David Mitchell) arrives.
CONSULTANT Hear you’ve got a tricky one.
SIMON (to consultant) Nothing we can’t handle.(Shouts to nurse) Get me some wolf’s bane, also known as monk’s hood, in here! And a whole tray of flower remedies!
CONSULTANT (waving his hands over the patient) Woah, his chakras are fading. He’ll need some crystals.
SIMON Nurse, fetch me some purple-tinted quartz.
The consultant looks at him skeptically.
SIMON Damnit, you’re right, make that aquamarine quartz.
CONSULTANT Good call.
SIMON Okay, he’s stabilising. Now, does anybody know what sort of car hit him?
NURSE Blue Ford Mondeo apparently.
SIMON Right, get me a bit of Blue Ford Mondeo, put it in water, shake it, dilute it, shake it again, dilute it again, do some more shaking, dilute it some more, then put three drops on his tongue. If that doesn’t cure him, I don’t know what will.
CONSULTANT You should have a look at this Simon.
SIMON What is it?
The consultant is examining the patient’s palm.
CONSULTANT I don’t think this poor chap’s got long to live.
SIMON Why not?
CONSULTANT His life-line, very short.
He picks up and scans a newspaper.
CONSULTANT (CONT’D) And his horoscope’s not too clever either. “Sagittarius, brace yourself for a surprise, things are about to change for you.”
SIMON Certainly are, unless… Wait!
SIMON We could try drawing a bit more life-line on with biro.
CONSULTANT It’ll never work!
SIMON You got a better idea? Let’s see what happens.
Simon draws on the patient’s hand with his pen, who suddenly moans in pain then slumps back dead.
SIMON Damnit. Time of death, Three thirty four…
He looks across at the clock, which is a triangular-shaped new-age one.
SIMON (CONT’D) -ish.
IN THE BAR LATER
Simon is sitting at the bar, looking unhappy. The consultant approaches him.
CONSULTANT Tough day, eh?
SIMON I just can’t stand losing them.
CONSULTANT It happens.
SIMON I don’t know, sometimes I think a trace solution of deadly nightshade, or a statistically neglible quantity of arsenic, just isn’t enough.
CONSULTANT That’s crazy talk Simon. Okay, so you kill the odd patient with cancer or heart disease. Or bronchitis, flu, chicken pox or measles. But, when someone comes in with a vague sense of unease, or a touch of the nerves, or even just more money than sense, you’ll be there for them. Bottle of basically just water in one hand, and a huge invoice in the other.
SIMON I suppose you’re right.
CONSULTANT Now, another drink?
SIMON I need one.
CONSULTANT (To barmaid) Excuse me! Two more homeopathic lagers please.
The barmaid holds two full pints of water under a beer tap, adding a couple of drops to each. She hands the glasses to the two doctors. Each takes a sip.
SIMON Woah, that’s strong stuff.