04x07 - British Hospital

[bunniefuu]

Oren: I'm the only doctor in England capable of performing this procedure, so I'll bloody well operate on myself. Nurse! Scalpel.

Headmistress: 30 years ago, we elected Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister, and now every country in the world has a woman as a leader.

Chet: Hold up, headmistress. You're a woman.

Headmistress: I am not a woman. I am English.

[ Monitor beeping ]

Dorothy: So, we're using the healing power of mime again, then?

[ Flat line ]

Flat line.

At least something makes a noise around here.

Lulu: This hospital is in the UK!

[ Mid-tempo music plays ]

Headmistress: Change. The changing of the guard.

A change is gonna come.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes. David bowie.

And when things change, things aren't ever quite the way they used to be.

Hello, everyone. I'd like to introduce you to a new member of staff...

Dr. Glenn Richards. Glenn, meet Valerie Flume, Lulu Spratt, Nurse Dotty, Oren Maestro...

And lady doctor Kitty Black.

Kitty: Excuse me, headmistress, but it's "doctor lady," not "lady doctor."

My medical qualification carries far more significance than the accident of birth that made me a member of the aristocracy.

Headmistress: As the Americans say, "tomayto," "tomayto."

Oh, this is the French doctor.

Valerie: So, what do you think?

Attractive or what?

Kitty: Oh, yes! Very attractive, with his brown skin and his brown heritage.

Valerie: It's a weird name for an Asian, though, isn't it... Glenn?

Kitty: That is so racialist of you.

Cyrus: Sorry to interrupt, but I'm Cyrus Mittleman from...

Uni Medical Solutions, your new Director.

The ministry of health has withdrawn your funding and sold the hospital.

Lulu: [ Gasps ]

Headmistress: But we're a nationalized hospital!

Cyrus: Oh, privatized medicine has been used in the US for years, and everybody loves it.

Dorothy: Emergency! Six year-old with a g*nsh*t wound!

Kitty: Back off, Maestro. An underprivileged black child caught up in g*ng v*olence is exactly what I got into medicine for.

God, they've tarred and feathered her, like some common revolutionary hooligan.

Actually, we were out hunting, and Kelly thought it would be funny to dress up like a grouse.

Oren: Step aside, lady doctor. This my bloodbath.

Kitty: It's "doctor lady," and I gave up my royal estate and my life of privilege, to save poor black children's lives. [ Cellphone rings ]

Damn!

Oren: Yes!

Kitty: I can't talk right now, mummy.

I'm doing medicine on a black girl from a council estate, and my hands are dripping with her poor, black blood.

Oren: She's going into death!

Kitty: The aforementioned heart I just mentioned has stopped b*ating.

I'll call you right back.

Oren: Aah!

Greetings, hospital staff.

Whoever keeps replacing the feather in my cap with macaroni need not keep it up.

That will suffice.

Doctor, Kenny's got himself trapped in a glass box, and I'm worried the air's gonna run out.

Dorothy: He's French.

Oh.

Briggs: Come on, Maestro. Let's go sh**t a few t*rrorists, for old times' sake.

Oren: Briggs, I'm not your partner any more, I'm a doctor now.

Briggs: You should be out doing what you do best...

sh**ting people, not sewing them back up.

Don't tell me that you don't miss handling one of those babies.

Oren: Funny how Americans think that British cops don't carry g*ns.

Briggs: Makes it very easy when you want to sh**t an American.

Oren: Briggs, I get to put my hands inside a person.

Cops can't do that unless they're searching for dr*gs... Or it's Christmas.

And even then, it's just a finger up the bum hole. Think about that.

Briggs: Maestro, I get it.

But you have to keep your thing for blood and gore in check.

It can change a person.

Headmistress: Did you write this memo ordering all doctors to "bargain up" their patients' treatments?

Cyrus: I did, yes.

Headmistress: A little boy came in this morning to have his tonsils removed, and went home with a 9-month course of chemotherapy!

Cyrus: Well, better to be safe than malignant.

Headmistress: This goes against everything I believe in.

Cyrus: Well, in that case, we're in the same boat, because I don't believe in workplace romances.

Headmistress: What?

Cyrus: You're an extremely attractive woman, headmistress.

Headmistress: You can't win me over that easily, Mr. Mittleman.

Cyrus: Having a disability doesn't mean you're not sexy.

You are everything I look for in a woman...

Headmistress: [ Gasps ]

Cyrus: And more.

And less.

Greetings, hospital staff.

Bring out your dead and transport them to the morgue.

That will suffice.

Kitty: I've got a couple of quid I could lend you.

In exchange for a... Kiss.

Oh, I'm so relieved you don't taste of Vindaloo!

But then again, of course you don't. Why would you?

You probably brushed your teeth.

Lulu: You were incredible tonight.

What I would have given to be there when you couldn't save this patient.

Oren: Well, I did the best I could.

I'm not afraid to admit I had a great time doing it.

Lulu: You know the fun doesn't need to stop here.

Oren: I want to take out your appendix.

Lulu: Is that a euphemism?

Oren: No, not at all. I want to lay you down on this table...

And take out your insides.

Lulu: Well, I guess what's an appendix anyway?

What does it even do? Nothing.

It's just taking up space, the stupid d*ck.

No anesthetic.

Oren: Oh, God.

I'm gonna operate on you so hard.

Well, can you save him, or can't you?

Mummy, where's the monster going? I can't breathe.

Lulu: I know it sounds weird, but it was the ultimate high.

Valerie: You realize that Oren is addicted to tearing into flesh.

Listen, you have got to stop before you become a surgery junkie, too.

I mean...

Oren: I kept your appendix in a tin. Wanked off to it...

Twice.

Lulu: I think we should stop seeing each other.

Oren: But I was gonna take you for a curry and give you a tracheotomy!

Lulu: I can't. Sorry.

Oren: [ Groans ]

Oh, use the French changing room, Napoleon!

All right, I'll play. Uh, trapped in a box. Choking.

Crying. I don't care. I don't speak French.

Oop, your hand's on fire.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Kitty: Over here, mummy! This is my fiancé, Dr. Glenn Richards.

He's from Pakistan, and he's a Hindu...

Glenn: I'm a Catholic from the East Midlands.

Kitty: Oh, I know this shocks you, mummy, but interracial romances are totally fine ever since Prince William married a semi-commoner.

I love Pakistani men.

And I love hanging out in dirty old, local pubs with the stinkards.

At least it's real.

It's not horse polo, it's life polo.

This man is not a t*rror1st.

The Duchess: Oh, do grow up, Katherine.

Mr. Richards, I'm so sorry.

Headmistress: Patient recovery rates are down 60% since you took over.

Cyrus: Hospital revenues are up 65%.

Headmistress: This is a hospital, damn it.

People count for more than profit.

Cyrus: With the extra money, we can invest in new technologies!

Headmistress: You are the most heartless...

Sexiest man I've ever met.

What's this?

Cyrus: It's... Not what it looks like.

Headmistress: Wobbly women? You don't like me for myself.

You like me for my ugly, misshapen body.

Cyrus: No, I like you and your useless, misshapen body.

Headmistress: I thought you were the one...

My first relationship since the accident.

Cyrus: You never told me about any accident.

I'm only aroused natural deformities.

Accident victims are like tawdry glamor models with silicone breasts.

I'm sorry, but it's over.

Well, don't be like that!

Can I get a pint of...

Oren: Hey! Don't spill my drink.

Oh, my God. Is there a doctor in the house?

Oren: As a matter of fact, there is.

Okay. I'm gonna give you the scalpel, all right?

When I ask for a scalpel you just give me back this scalpel, okay?

Okay, nurse, scalpel!

Scalpel, scalpel, scalpel! Oh, I'm gonna get so deep inside of you.

Briggs: Maestro! This is an intervention.

You've hit rock bottom, mate.

Might as well face it, you're addicted to blood.

Oren: Oh, wow. That's got me right here.

Bobby Palmer was a friend of mine.

May he rest in peace.

Stop using the power of mime and start using the power of glass-cutting tools!

Braedon: [ French accent ] Shut up, you English twat!

I'm more accustomed to being trapped inside a fake [Bleep] box!

Cyrus: Come, now! You're as sensitive as your legs are crippled!

Headmistress: Leave me alone, you cr*pple-cruiser!

Aah!

Oh, thank you! Come here, darling.

Cyrus: Now save the headmistress, you French fool!

Braedon: I am trying, but these winds... They are so strong!

Lulu: We should do something.

Glenn: Not me. It's Friday.

Catholics don't eat meat or treat patients.

Valerie: Yeah, and my Spina Bifida is really smarting today.

Cyrus: You have a touch of Spina Bifida, do you?

Were you born with it, by any chance?

Headmistress: [ Gasping ]

The final change, the big change in the sky. Pink Floyd.

When it comes, it's important to meet that change with a confident sniff and a straight spine.

That's you telling change, "sod off, you tosser."

And that... Is the English way.

[ Upbeat music plays ]

[ Singing indistinctly ]

Well, I don't have a reason for the system.

Greetings, hospital staff.

Calling your bum bag a fanny pack is a fire-able offense.

That will suffice!

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