SCENE: 
Crew stood in dirty flat in front of unkempt patient.  Long greasy hair hangs chaotically and thinly down the shoulders of the patient’s topless torso – fat, hairy and unclean.  Nicotine stained fingers grip tightly onto a roll up fag flicking ash onto a dirt and faeces ridden carpet.  The air is thick with the smell of smoke, BO and stale urine.  Outside it is dark and raining signalling this as the off-job to a typically long shift. 

**Patient has been talking non stop about their ailments.  The crew are standing by delirious with fatigue**

PATIENT:     . . . . and then there’s this rash I keep gettin’ over me arse cheeks – always on the weekend.  When I’ve ‘ad me a curry.  Oh, and this pain in my left ankle . . . it’s killing mate.  I’m telling youse, last year when I got investigated, them there Doctors at the ‘ospital – well, they said it was gaaaht . . . or summit like that.  Can’t remember.  But naaah, I’ve got this pain all daaahn me right arm ain’t I.  Been there for weeks.  And don’t get me started on . . .

**patient’s voice drifts off as Binder’s eyes glaze over** 

CUE – DREAM SEQUENCE
. . . a beautiful sunset slowly materialises.  The shifting colours of gold, orange and red stretch across a stunning blue horizon with a calm tropical ocean underneath.  Gentle waves lap up onto an island shore.  The water is crystal clear and the sand so fine and white it squeaks like glass rubbing together under your feet.  Palm trees lace the shore’s edge and no one can be seen up or down the beach.

Binder lies in Bermuda shorts on a posh recliner lapping up the last of the hot day’s sun.  He is approached by two beautiful woman wearing grass skirts and carrying trays with cool Pina Coladas to drink.

Binder sighs a deep sigh of contentment and sips at the tropical nectar . . . until

PATIENT:     . . . . haemorrhoids hanging out of me arse!!

**Snapped back into reality there is a long pause.  Binder sighs deeply**

BINDER:      Hmmmm . . . any chest pain?
PATIENT:     Not today.  It’s this bloody gaaaht I’m telling you – it’s fuc. . .
BINDER:      That’s good.  Let’s get you off to hospital then shall we?

Binder