Somehow this sequence always reminds me of WotB

At the doctors.

D: Now then what seems to be the trouble?
E: Well, it is my man servant.
D: I see. Well don't be embarrassed if you got the pocks. Just pop your man servant on the table and we'll take a look at him.
E: No, I mean, it is my real man servant.
D: Ah, ah. And what is wrong with him?
E: There is nothing wrong with him. That is the problem. He's perfect and last night I almost kissed him.
D: I see. So you started fancying boys then, have you?
E: Not boys. A boy.
D: Yes, well let's not split hairs. It is all rather disgusting and naturally you're worried.
E: Of course I'm worried.
D: Well, of course you are. It isn't every day a man wakes up to discover he's a screaming bender with no more right to live on Gods clean earth than a weazle. Ashamed of your self?
E: Not really, no.
D: Bloody hell! I would be. But still why should I complain? Just leaves more rampant totty for us real men, eh?
E: Look, am I paying for this personal abuse or is it extra?
D: No, it's all part of the service. I think you're in luck though. An extraordinary new cure has just been developed for exactly this kind of sordid problem.
E: It wouldn't have anything to do with leeches, would it?
D: I had no idea you were a medical man.
E: Never had anything you doctors didn't try to cure with leeches. A leech on my ear for ear ache, a leech on my bottom for constipation.
D: They're marvellous, aren't they?
E: Well, the bottom one wasn't. I just sat there and squashed it.
D: You know the leech comes to us on the highest authority?
E: Yes. I know that. Dr. Hoffmann of Stuttgart, isn't it?
D: That's right, the great Hoffmann.
E: Owner of the largest leech farm of Europe.
D: Yes. Well, I cannot spend all day gossiping. I'm a busy man. As far as this case is concerned I have now had time to think it over and I can strongly recommend a course of leeches. [in chorus]
E: Yes. I 'll pop a couple down my codpiece before I go to bed.
D: No, no, no, no. Don't be ridiculous. This isn't the dark ages. Just pop four in your mouth in the morning and let them dissolve slowly. In a couple of weeks you 'll be beating your servant with a stick, just like the rest of us.
E: You're a sale[?] quack, aren't you?
D: I'd rather be a quack than a ducky. Good day.

Posted By: Basil Wrathbone on December 7th 2007 at 14:28:52

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