PSYCHIATRY - SILLY SKETCH/ OPERATING THEATRE (SQUATTERS)

  

Animation link runs into a psychiatrist's consulting room. The psychiatrist at his desk. The door opens and a receptionist looks in.

 

Receptionist: (C.C.) Dr Larch ... there's a Mr Phelps to see you.

 

Psychiatrist: (J.C.) Er, nurse!

 

Receptionist: Yes?

 

Psychiatrist: (whispering) Er, you don't think you should make it clear that I'm a psychiatrist?

 

Receptionist: What?

 

Psychiatrist: Well, I could be any type of doctor.

 

Receptionist: Well I can't come in and say 'Psychiatrist Larch' or 'Dr Larch who is a psychiatrist'. Oh, anyway look, it's written on the door.

 

Psychiatrist: (still whispering) That's outside.

 

Receptionist: Well, I don't care; you'll just have to do it yourself. (she leaves)

 

Psychiatrist: (goes 'brr brr', then picks up phone) Hello. Er, no, wrong number I'm afraid, this is a psychiatrist speaking. Next please. (knock at the door) Er, come in.

  

Phelps comes in dressed as Napoleon, with a parrot on his head, and a leash with nothing on it.

 

Phelps: (T.J.) Bow, wow, wow.

 

Psychiatrist: Ah Mr Phelps. Come on in, take a seat. Now what seems to be the matter?

 

Phelps: No, no, no. No. No.

 

Psychiatrist: I'm sorry?

 

Phelps: Oh can't you do better than that? I mean it's so predictable I've seen it a million times. Knock, knock, knock come in, ah Mr Phelps take a seat. I've seen it and seen it.

 

Psychiatrist: Well look will you please sit down and do your first line.

 

Phelps: No. No. I've had enough. I've had enough. (he exits)

 

Psychiatrist: I can't even get it started.

 

Phelps: (off) Albatross!

 

Psychiatrist: Shut up! Oh it drives me mad.

 

Cut to a man in limbo: Mr Notlob.

 

Notlob: (M.P.) A mad psychiatrist, that'd be new.

 

Cut back to the psychiatrist.

 

Psychiatrist: Next please.

 

Knocking at door. Psychiatrist is about to call when he picks up a thesaurus and thumbs through it.

 

Psychiatrist: Cross the threshold, arrive, ingress, gain admittance, infiltrate. (Notlob enters in an ordinary suit) Ah Mr Notlob, ah park your hips, on the sitting device.

 

Notlob: (to camera) It is a mad psychiatrist.

 

Psychiatrist: I'm not. I'm not. Come on in. Take a seat. What’s what's the matter?

 

Cut to Napoleon in limbo; he blows a raspberry.

 

Psychiatrist: Now what's the matter?

 

Notlob: Well I keep hearing guitars playing and people singing when there's no one around.

 

Psychiatrist: Yes, well this is not at all uncommon. In certain mental states we find that auditory hallucinations occur which are of a most ... (he steps suddenly and listens; the sound of 'We're all going to the zoo tomorrow' is heard) Is that 'We're all going to the zoo tomorrow'?

 

Notlob: Yes. Yes.

 

Psychiatrist: Is it always that?

 

Notlob: No.

 

Psychiatrist: Well that's something.

 

Notlob: But it's mainly folk songs.

 

Psychiatrist: (concerned) Oh my God.

 

Notlob: Last night I had 'I'll never fall in love again' for six hours.

 

Psychiatrist: Well look, I think I'd better have a second opinion on this. I want you to see a colleague of mine, a specialist in these sort of things, who has an office very much like this one as a matter of fact.

 

Jump cut off same office now occupied by a surgeon. Start on portrait which has moustache and beard and glasses being added by surgeon.

 

Surgeon: (G.C.) Brr brr (picks up phone) No, no wrong number I'm a colleague of his, a surgeon, who specializes in these kind of things. Yes thank you very much. (replaces phone) Next please. (knock at door) Come in. (Notlob enters; 'Going to the zoo' is faintly heard) Ah come in, please take a seat. (cut to terribly quick shot of Napoleon, then back) My colleague who has a similar office has explained your case to me (he is rising from seat) Mr Notlob, as you know I am a leading Harley Street surgeon as seen on television. (he puts needle down on ancient gramophone; Dr Kildare theme begins playing) I'm afraid I'm going to have to operate. It's nothing to worry about although it is extremely dangerous. I shall be juggling with your life, I shall be playing ducks and drakes with your very existence, I shall be running me mitts over the pith of your marrow. Yes! These hands, these fingers, these sophisticated organs of touch, these bunches of five, these maulers, these German bands that have pulled many a moribund unfortunate back from the very brink of Lazarus's box. No, it was Pandora's box wasn't it? Well anyway these mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So if you'll just step through here I'll slit you up a treat.

 

Notlob: What?

 

Surgeon: Mr Notlob, there's nothing wrong with you that an expensive operation can't prolong.

 

Cut to operating theatre. The conversation and the guitar can still be heard. Notlob is on the table. His head is real but the rest of the body is false. Table is covered with green cloth for reality. Surgeon is swabbing. 'Going to the zoo' is still audible.

 

Surgeon: Right, I'm ready to make the incision. Knife please, sister (takes knife) What's that supposed to be. Give me a big one... (takes big knife and strops it on steel sharpener) . . . oh I do enjoy this. Right. (he stabs the body and makes a slit four feet long) Oh what a great slit. Now, gentlemen, I am going to open the slit.

 

He pulls it apart. The song gets louder. The head of a squatter pops out.

 

Squatter: (E.I.) Too much man, groovy, great scene. Great light show, baby.

 

Surgeon: What are you doing in there?

 

Squatter: We're doing our own thing, man.

 

Surgeon: Have you got Mr Notlob's permission to be in there?

 

Squatter: We're squatters, baby.

 

Surgeon: What? (to nurse about Notlob) Nurse, wake him up. (she slaps his face)

 

Squatter: Don't get uptight, man. Join the scene and other phrases. Money isn't real.

 

Surgeon: It is where I'm standing and it blows my mind, young lad. (looks inside Notlob) Good Lord! Is that a nude woman?

 

Squatter: She's doing an article on us for 'Nova', man.

 

Girl: (C.C.) (her head also appearing through slit) Hi everyone. Are you part of the scene?

 

Surgeon: Are you rolling your own jelly babies in there?

 

Notlob: (waking up) What's going on? Who are they?

 

Surgeon: That's what we are trying to find out.

 

Notlob: What are they doing in my stomach?

 

Surgeon: We don't know. Are they paying you any rent?

 

Notlob: Of course they're not paying me rent!

 

Squatter: You're not furnished, you fascist.

 

Notlob: Get them out!

 

Surgeon: I can't.

Notlob: Get them out.

 

Surgeon: No I can't. Not, not without a court order.

 

Indian: (also appearing) Shut up. You're keeping us awake.

 

Caption: 'ONE COURT ORDER LATER'

 

Some policemen walk in.

 

First Policeman: (J.C.) (into slit) You are hereby ordered to vacate Mr Notlob forthwith. And or.

 

Squatter: Push off, fuzz.

 

Policeman: Right, that's it, we're going in. Release the vicious dogs. (dives into slit)

 

Animation.

 

Animated Character: What a terrible way to end a series. Why couldn't it end with something like this? (a short piece of confusing animation later) Now there's an ending for you. Romance. Laughter. (he then gets squished by the big Python foot)

 

Cut to film of 'It's' man being pursued by undertaker; roll credits over.

 

Caption: 'INTERMISSION'

 

Voice Over: (J.C.) When this series returns it will be put out on Monday mornings as a test card and will be described by 'Radio Times' as a history of Irish agriculture.

    

 

 
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