Green Wing

Guy:
Two things women want, ok? Money and protection.

Martin:
Well, I've got a helmet and a credit card.

Caroline:
Sorry if I seem a bit stressed out, I didn't sleep very well last night. Although I did have a rather disturbing lesbian dream.

Guy:
Bingo.

Mac:
Would you like to talk about that, or...?

Caroline:
I don't really remember it.

Mac:
Make it up?

Guy:
Positions, numbers?

Mac:
Numbers, positions?

Guy:
Were they shaved?

Mac:
Yeah, were they shaved?

Caroline:
[sarcastic] Perhaps I could try and have another one tonight, take a few notes, bring them in for you tomorrow.

Guy:
Can you draw?

[Caroline's phone starts ringing in the operating theatre]

Guy:
Your shoes are ringing.

Mac:
[quietly] It might be a lesbian.

Guy:
Or the mother ship.

Sue White:
Well what can I do for you this time, Dr. Statham?

Alan Statham:
I'd like a new badge please.

Sue White:
May I ask what happened to the old one?

Alan Statham:
I've still got it. I'm afraid to report it's been vandalised by some b-bloody bastards!

Sue White:
In what way?

Alan Statham:
Rather not talk about it.

Sue White:
Well if you don't, I can't order you a new one.

Alan Statham:
And where does it say that in the regulations?

[Sue picks up a large book from her desk, rapidly thumbs to a random page and points without looking]

Sue White:
There. [puts the book down]

Alan Statham:
Alright. Umm... someone has used a marker pen to make some alterations. The badge should read: "Dr. Alan Statham", next line: "Consultant Radiologist", and they have blacked out the letters O N S and L T A.

Sue White:
I see, so that would in fact leave... [writes on a post-it note] A 'C', a 'U', an 'N'...

Alan Statham:
Yes, yes, yes, exactly, yes.

Sue White:
...and an-- oh, I see. So, your badge now reads: "Alan Statham, Cu--"

Alan Statham:
Yes, thank you, that's what it's been changed to.

Sue White:
Again?

Alan Statham:
Yes, again.

Sue White:
Well, alright, I'll see what I can do. It's going to take a couple of weeks to order a new one, though.

Alan Statham:
Well, what--what am I meant to do in the meantime?

Sue White:
Well, I suggest you black-out the bits you don't want!

Alan Statham:
Well, then right, I will.

Sue White:
I'd lose the second line rather than the first.

Alan Statham:
What?

Sue White:
Just trying to help!

Guy:
Guy Secretan - it's Swiss.

Caroline:
Ah, cuckoo clocks, no beaches. Theft of Jewish gold after the fall of Nazi Germany. Sorry, I expect everyone says that.

Guy:
No.

Mac:
Martin, Martin, see this? Is that your - is this your signature?

Martin:
Yeah, it is, yeah.

Mac:
Yeah - can't really do smiley faces on death certificates, it does look a little bit insensitive, okay?

Guy:
You... are a gingre.

Mac:
I am a fraise-blonde.

[on whether things are going well with her "sort-of" boyfriend]

Karen:
Thing is, he said I had a furry face. That can't be a good thing, can it?

Kim:
No, I guess not.

Karen:
[in tears] Damn my furry face!

Mac:
What can I tell you? A few ground rules - no bombing, no running, no petting, no diving and no inflatables. In fact, probably best to leave all swimming related activities until later - this is, after all, an operating theatre.

Guy:
I can do a surface dive in my pyjamas.

Mac:
That's probably very handy for a bedwetter.

Caroline:
Stop right there. Come back here.

Mac:
Stop right there, come back here - which? I'm confused.

[Guy accidentally pushes too much air into a patient's chest during an operation]

Guy:
I thought she was having a nightmare.

Mac:
She is with you as her bloody anaesthetist.

Martin:
I'm thinking about getting an Adamantium helmet.

Mac:
Yeah? That’s the stuff the Wolverine skeleton’s made out of, isn’t it?

Martin:
Yep. Hardest metal in the world.

Mac:
Indeed, indeed yeah. Sadly of course, a fictional metal. So that would probably reduce its effectiveness in a crash-style scenario.

Martin:
Good point. Good point. Still the hardest metal in the world though. [Martin leaves.]

Mac:
Fictional.

Alan:
You’re probably thinking that in some bizarre way that my playing the recorder has caused, erm, an expansion down below.

Boyce:
I wasn’t thinking that, but I am now.

[Caroline screams after she fails to light up a cigarette.]

Caroline:
Aarrgh! I want nicotine! Then I’d like to meet a nice man and have a sexually charged, no-speaking affair.

[Sue comforts a crying Guy.]

Guy:
Don’t be nice to me.

Sue:
Oh, all right, pull yourself together you cretinous fuckwit! What sort of a man hides in other people’s coats, rocking and whinging to themselves? I’ll tell you what sort of a man – a self-centred, egotistical wankpot! Now unhook yourself and stop being so weak. Men don’t cry. They’re strong hunter-gatherers. So go hunt, go gather, go be a total cunt, because that’s what you do best!

Guy:
Fuck you, you ugly bitch! Oh, that feels so much better. Do you fancy a quick fiddle now we're in here?

Sue:
I am tempted, cos I’m all fired up. But no, thanks, I’d rather lick my own armpit.

[Guy is on the telephone to a former girlfriend.]

Guy:
Suzy? Babe? [Puts on a bad Welsh accent.] Oh, hello. Oh, hello Frank. No, no, it's Geoff. Yeah. No, I'm an old school friend of Suzy's. I know she did, but I moved down when I was twelve. From... [Changes accent.] ...Derbyshire. Oh, do they? Which part? Which part? Which bit? Oh, I know I don’t, but because I’ve got a bit of a cold at the moment and I'm a bit sad... about... well, about my... hedgerows. Yeah. I've got to go now. I’ve got to go to the Vale. The Vale of Pewter. Near... Derby. OK, OK, bye. [Hangs up.] Think I got away with that.

[Harriet and Karen buying a birthday cake.]

Harriet:
Ooh, this one.

[Harriet picks out a cake in the shape of a pair of breasts.]

Karen:
That's more Rachel. It's not really Joanna.

Harriet:
We can put a candle on each nipple. I’ve always wanted to do that. Either that or run away and join the circus.

Guy:
Buggering wank!

Mac:
The Swiss water-polo team lost again?

Martin:
Hello, Mum, it's me. Martin. Martin Dear. Martin. M-A-R-T-I-N. You know who it is!

Mac:
Join me again next week on Let’s Make No Fucking Sense when I will be waxing an owl.

Karen:
What’s that on your coat?

Rachel:
What?

Karen:
Silver lines, on there.

Rachel:
Oh, snails. Yeah, I went to a party last night and, err…woke up in the garden.

[Karen’s poem, "Ode to Martin," read by Kim.]

Kim:
"There was a time I had not seen you, I don't know how I coped. Now every day I want to watch you and help you with your [pronounced phonetically] moped." "Help you with your moped?" What's that?

Harriet:
I tell you what you could do, Karen. In the second line: coped—copèd. "I know how not I copèd." No. A bit florid perhaps.

[Caroline and Mac talk to some students about medicine.]

Mac:
Any final thoughts, Dr. Todd?

Caroline:
Don't get ill. We make you all sleepy and do terrible things.

Mac:
Wise words indeed.

Guy:
Martin, what do you think of when I say the word "Switzerland" to you?

Martin:
I don't know, you've never said it to me before.

Guy:
I'm saying it now. And don't say Phil Collins lives there.

Martin:
Does he?

Guy:
Shut your eyes, think of Switzerland—what do you see?

Martin:
[Eyes shut] Nothing.

Guy:
You must see something!

Martin:
I don't have a visual memory, sorry.

Mac:
I see something. I see a chocolate Phil Collins coming out of a clock every hour, to tidy up his Nazi gold.

Caroline:
What are you wearing?

Angela:
It's called a white coat. It's identical to the one you're wearing, only a tiny bit whiter.

[Joanna brings a urine sample to the pathology lab for testing]

Technician:
I need a name for the sample.

Joanna:
Er, well, it's for a friend of mine who wishes to remain anonymous. Is that going to cause problems in your weird little technical brain?

Technician:
No, it's just that usually we've got to go up on the roof and shout, "Pregnancy test results for the stupid lanky old bitch who's not learned to take basic precautions in her forty-odd years on this planet!" You know, assuming that your friend is quite lanky.

[Caroline tries to remember what happened at the party with Mac.]

Caroline:
First you say you don't remember any kissing at all, and now you're saying there was kissing in the toilet. Which one is it?

Guy:
[From the next room.] Kissing in the toilet?

Caroline:
Yes, er, who sang "Kissing in the Toilet" in 1978?

Guy:
Er, was it a young George Michael?

Caroline:
Yes.

Guy:
Fucking hell! That was a guess! [sings] "Kissing in the toilet. Don't flush, it's lush."

Martin:
I know you pretend to be ashamed of me.

Joanna:
No, it’s quite genuine.

Martin:
Well, underneath I know you're got some mother's pride. And I don’t mean the bread.

Alan:
Precisely. Gamma rays, which produce images of—I'm having a baby—and can be expressed in numerical form. Tiny, pink, little baby. Moving on to diagnostic preferences in, let's say soft-tissue trauma... Who's the daddy? I think you'll find that I am the daddy.

Caroline:
How was the, erm, interview?

Mac:
Not sure. I might have used the words "job", "stick", "up", and "arse" all in one sentence. Is that a bad thing?

Caroline:
Well, I think tone of voice is very important.

Joanna:
You and me are not an item. Never have been, never will be. What have you got to say to that then, eh?

Alan:
I.

Joanna:
What?

Alan:
"You and I" are not an item, not "you and me."

Joanna:
Listen to I. I'm not in a relationship with you no more.

[Having been dumped by Joanna, Alan has commandeered a milk float, and is driving it down a street, while throwing empty milk bottles at nearby pedestrians]

Alan:
Sod off, you... you Jezebel whores! Go on, you slutty tarts! Go on, with your slitty, slutty, slitty, slutty slots! Go on, sod off, you're... you're all the bloody same!

Mac:
Your reward will be in Devon.

Caroline:
Devon?

Mac:
Oh, no, sorry. It's heaven isn't it? Yeah, that's right. I used to get them confused as a kid. You know, when people die, they got to Devon.

Caroline:
[Laughs] That's funny.

Mac:
Well, not really, no. Ruined my summer holidays—I thought my whole family was dead.

Mac:
That part of the day we’ve all been looking forward to. Nurse Richardson, perhaps you'd like to choose: movie genre, or regional accent?

Theatre Nurse:
Regional accent, please.

Mac:
Excellent choice. Dr. Todd, perhaps you'd like to pick today's regional accent.

Guy:
Surrey. Buckinghamshire. Er, Swiss.

Caroline:
Northeast, Newcastle.

Mac:
Tricky, but always very funny. Good choice. [Geordie] All reet, then, shall we get on and start the operation?

[Boyce has stuck a Star of David on Alan's pointer.]

Boyce:
I don't think you understand. That's soldered on. It's never gonna come off.

Alan:
Yes, quite. Remarkable—all achieved in apparently under five minutes. [Alan hits Boyce under the chin with the point, knocking off the star and hurting him badly.] Right, moving on to the third upper metatarsal...

Teacher:
Now... Robbie. Is there any history of mental illness in the family?

Harriet:
No.

Teacher:
Are you sure?

Harriet:
Yeah, I think so.

Teacher:
You know about the penguin with the chainsaw?

Harriet:
Yes. Oh, but every child has an imaginary friend.

Teacher:
Are there any major problems at home?

Harriet:
Erm... He does like to eat bread straight from the freezer. "Bread lollies," he calls them. But we thought that was kind of sweet.

[Martin confronts Joanna in the car park.]

Martin:
You let me down. You weren’t there for me, Mum.

Joanna:
Shut up! Not here!

Martin:
I needed you to make my packed lunches, I needed you to pick me up from swimming and I needed you to make me that Incredible Hulk costume for Halloween.

Joanna:
Shut up! Shut up!

Martin:
I've got an angry penis!

Martin:
Can I ask your advice about something?

Caroline:
Your shirt tucked into your pants doesn't really work for you, Martin.

[Martin pulls his shirt over his underpants.]

Martin:
No, look, it's not about clothes, it's about something more serious.

Caroline:
More serious than clothes? I don't understand.

[Mac commentates on Guy's attempt to chat-up Joanna, in the style of David Attenborough]

Mac:
The hunter spots his prey. But there is a problem. The herd of tottie is sticking together, making it hard to target any one individual. [Joanna walks to the bar.] He's in luck. The herd has split, leaving one creature alone—

Joanna:
Double vodka.

Mac:
—and vulnerable. She's old, and weaker than the rest. This, surely, is his best chance.

Guy:
Fuck off!

Mac:
The hunter will tolerate no interruption to his meticulous preparations. He waits, like a coiled spring, and then... he strikes.

Alan:
Oh my fucksy, there's a field in the road!