Operating Theatre (Squatters)

 

 

(Scene starts off with the same office as used by the Psychiatrist in the last sketch, but it is now occupied by a surgeon. Start on portrait which has moustache and beard and glasses being added by surgeon.)

 

Surgeon: 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: 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 Nottob'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: (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 on screen: 'ONE COURT ORDER LATER' Some policemen walk in.)

 

First Policeman: (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)