Health Check

I wondered if this little sketch would complement Mick Westward’s very funny poem …

Health Check

Scene:  A room in a GP practice. A rather large well-built nurse, Geraldine Cumberpatch, is clicking importantly on her computer, when her next patient, Elizabeth Smart, comes in – without knocking!

Geraldine:    Oh, good morning  er, (squinting at the screen), Elizabeth. Do come in won’t you? Take a seat.

Elizabeth:    Good morning.

Geraldine:    Now then, we’re here for your annual review, is that right? Your MOT, as we like to call it Elizabeth. Oh by the way, what do you prefer to be called, Elizabeth? Liz? Lizzie?

Elizabeth:    Well Geraldine, I actually prefer to be called Mrs Smart, if it’s all the same to you.

Geraldine:    Oh right. Anyway, have you brought your sample of water? Oh goody. My word, that’s a tiny teensy-weensy drop of wee-wee, isn’t it Mrs Smart?

Elizabeth:    I know.  I had a right job getting any drops of wee-wee into that teensy-weensy bottle. Annoyingly most of my wee-wee went on my handy-pandy!

Geraldine:    Anyway, Liz, oops sorry, Mrs Smart, let’s just dip this stick and see what he has to say for himself…Yep, that’s all tickity-boo,  no sugar there. You must be sweet enough!  Now, let’s get the boring old questions out of the way shall we?  So, have you ever smoked?

Elizabeth:    Yes, but I gave up ages ago.

Geraldine:    Hmm, there isn’t a box for, ‘ages ago’. Any chance you could be a little more specific, Lizzie?

Elizabeth:    Oh dear, now that’s a very tall order. Let me think…

Geraldine:    No worries, this box will do, yes, that’s it, ‘former smoker’.  Now then, what  about alcohol. Do you drink, petal?

Elizabeth: (fingers crossed behind back). Yes, petal, I enjoy a glass of Merlot in the evening.

Geraldine:    Whaaat, every evening???

Elizabeth:    Er, yes.

Geraldine:     Hmm, and how big would that glass be then, dear.

Elizabeth:(fingers crossed even tighter). Oh it’s thimble sized, dear. Just enough to wet me whistle.

Geraldine:    I see. Now, which box do I tick for that? Ah that’s the one, ‘regular imbiber’, that’ll do. What about exercise? Do we get much exercise? And food. Plenty of fruit and veg, none of that old nasty processed stuff?

Elizabeth:    Yes, plenty of exercise and no nasty processed food, of course.

Geraldine:    Let’s pop you on the scales, Lizzie, oops-a-daisy, Mrs Smart, I mean, I am a naughty nursie aren’t I? No, not yet dear, oh we are impatient, aren’t we? Just let the scales settle, that’s it. Oh oh, we’ve put on a couple of pounds since our last MOT haven’t we? Now, what about if I sort out a diet sheet and see if we can’t shed some of that extra pudding?  Or Weight Watchers? What about Weight Watchers, or ‘Fat Club’, as some of my ladies call it?

Elizabeth:    Yes, you’re right, I have gone up a dress size, but I’m not too bothered, so don’t go to the trouble of sorting out a diet sheet, and I’m not interested in going to one of these ghastly Fat Clubs either.

Geraldine:    Well, that’s your prerogative, dear. I can only advise you, but if you’re not prepared to act on the advice… So, let’s make a note,  just so I can’t be accused of being remiss in any way. ‘Patient admits to being overweight, but declines to implement recommendations about how to rectify the problem in spite of nurse’s health warnings about obesity’. There we go, I think that covers every eventuality Elizabeth dear , don’t you? Now then, anything else I can do for you?

Elizabeth:    No, nothing else thank you, Geraldine. Actually though, are we being informal?  You know, off the record, first name terms and all that?

Geraldine:    Yes Liz,  how can I help? Strictly entre-nous, of course.

Elizabeth:    Well I hope you can help me, Gerri. It’s just that you seem so familiar. I’ve  definitely seen you somewhere before, and not that long ago actually. Isn’t it annoying when you  recognise someone but they don’t quite fit into their persona at that time?

Wait a minute. I know where I saw you.. You were in the Turtles’ Head on New Year’s Eve, weren’t you? Hubby and me were in charge of the food and I’d just enjoyed my thimble of Merlot when we heard an unusual rendition of  Whitney  Houston’s, ‘I will Survive’, on the Karaoke. It was littered with hiccups and giggles and we couldn’t resist taking a peek.

It was you, wasn’t it? What a laugh. And that dress! Honestly Gerri, I have to hand it to you. How you squeezed yourself into that skin-tight sequinned Primark special I’ll never know. Oh and that bit where your boob nearly popped out. What a laugh! You brought the house down, you did, honestly.

That landlord, Eric, can be a bit of a tartar at times, don’t you think? I mean I know you shouldn’t have stubbed your fag out in the sherry trifle, but really, he didn’t need to throw you out.