All language subtitles for Casualty.1900s.S02E01_English

CLANGING

HAMMERING

MAN COUGHING

COUGHING

Sid! No!

Argh!

Get him out quick! Sid!

SID SCREAMING

Now, remember,
four's on dram feeds,
but don't increase too fast.

Mr Booth needs
his truss fitting after lunch.

Mr Tremlett in seven -
keep your eyes peeled,

you can't trust him
for a minute

And ten started a suspicious
vomit after breakfast.

-And you won't forget, will you?
-What, Sister?

Six o'clock, Matron will be here
for the inventory inspection.

SHE SIGHS
I really should be here.

Don't worry, we can manage.

I hope you enjoy
your party, Sister

Thank you, Probation Bowers.

Going somewhere interesting,
Sister Russell?

-It's my father's birthday.
-Ah, the great man.

-He's 70 today.
-A party?

Well, join the queue
to pay my respects.

Well, many happy returns
to the Right Reverend Russell.

TOOTING OUTSIDE

Fathers...surgeons...we all have
our crosses to bear, Sister.

There's fuel leaking into
the intake manifold.

He's back.

Why does he have two motor cars?

In case one breaks down,
of course.

Do not meet Mr Dean's eye.

Do not speak
unless you are spoken to.

And if he asks you a question,
answer with a statement of fact,
never an opinion.

Do you understand?
You have no opinion.

Do everything he says as quickly
and quietly as you can.

-Don't lean on the bed.
-Sorry, Sister.

And sleeves.
You must wear your sleeves
when addressing a surgeon.

SCREAMING
MAN: Dr Culpin!

Stand aside.
Stand aside, please.

CRIES OF AGONY

-CULPIN: What is this?
-Naphta.

-He was making
electrical flexes, doctor
-How did he get it on himself?

He was chucking it
on the fire and it caught
before it left his hands.

I tried to warn him,
but he wouldn't listen.

We need to get him up to theatre
right away. Right away!

-Where are we, Dr Ingrams?
-All done.

And all before nine o'clock.

One scald,
one impacted bowel obstruction,

and one duodenal ulcer.

-Left anything for me?
-There's a Mrs Anderson
in Room One.

-What is it?
-Headaches and vomiting.

Why don't you see if you can add
her to your list of successes.

All in a day's work.

HAMMERING

Blindin' they are,

like there's an iron band
right round 'ere.

And the attacks - I have to keep
a bucket by my bed.

I'm not surprised, Mrs Anderson.

This is Howard's
anti-corpulent preparation.

It's a fat cure
to be applied topically.

-Beg pardon?
-You rub it on yourself.
You don't drink it.

-Rub it?
-Yes, on your...body.

But, frankly...you'd do better
to pour it away.

I paid four pence a bottle
for that!

Snake oil and it could've been
made for ha'penny.

Your prescription, Maud,
one cup of tea.

SHE CRIES
Hey!

Hey...

What's the matter?

Howard's anti-corpulent
preparation.

What are you doing with
anti-corpulent preparation?

INGRAMS: Drinking it.

SHE SOBS
Look at me, Dr Culpin.

I am looking at you.

Have you ever heard
of the Tuamotus tribe, Maud?

They're from the Polynesian
Islands, South Seas

Now, the most beautiful woman
in the Tuamotus tribe -
you know who she is?

She's the largest woman
in the tribe.

You are a large woman, Maud.

And you're a beautiful woman.

Now...

..drink your tea.

You are good to me, Dr Culpin.

WATER SPLASHES

Now, gentlemen...

We're using a chloroform
and ether mixture.

-When you're ready, Johnson.
-Yes, Mr Fenwick.

Pay attention.
You'll be expected to
do this yourselves, one day

Stand by, everyone.

-SID: No. No!
-Don't try to fight it, my boy.

The struggle is quite normal.
Just breathe now. That's it.

Subsiding...

Subsiding.

Good.

MAN COUGHING

CHOKING

NURSE: Sister Russell?

Pull the pillow down,
under his neck.

You're going to be fine,
Mr Lewis, don't worry.

This sometimes happens
with anthrax.

Bistoury knife, dressings
and a basin, 1 in 60 carbolic.

Probationer Bowers,
fetch a surgeon, run..

-But..
-Run!

Fire or haemorrhage,
Probationer?

Sorry, Sister.

-Mr Dean?
-Mr Holland.

Gentlemen. We weren't expecting
you back until the 7th.

I never could
live up to expectations.

So, tell me,
how were the Italian lakes?

Oh...wet. And Italian.

But...restorative, I trust.

Yes?!

LABOURED BREATHING

RASPING

DOOR OPENS

-Sister.
-Oedema of the glottis,

as a result of
pulmonary anthrax.

-You heard the Sister.
-Tracheotomy, sir?

Why do you wish to make more
work for these angels of mercy?

And the patients are always
coughing out their trachy tubes.
Isn't that right, Sister?

No, I prefer scarification

or multiple puncture of the
supralaryngeal structures.

It's simple, it's quick.
No tubes, no fuss.

-Cocaine-adrenaline solution.
-Already applied, Mr. Dean

Tongue depressor?

Thank you. Nice and wide for me.
That's it.

Bistoury.

RASPING BREATHING

BREATHING STEADIES

Like falling off a log. Ha!

Towel.

Good. Thank you.

BOWERS: Is he always like that,
then? Mr Dean, I mean.

More or less. It depends.

Depends on?

On the cocaine.

No!

Really, Probationer,
you needn't be shocked.

Everybody knows.

SHE SCOFFS
Honestly, you are
a funny little thing.

SIGHS

TAPPING

Oh!

Shh!

Hello, there.

-What's your name?
-Deborah.

So, Deborah, what's the matter?

Couple of broken bones, I think.

She's a lovely girl really,
except when she's had
a drop taken.

Can you climb into the chair
for me, Deborah? Come on.

MAN: Do what
the nice lady says, Deborah.

Good. Exam room one.

Take a seat, sir.

Get your bloody hands off me.

Unless you want to pay for it?

Did she bring up all
the methylated spirits?

Ah. Good.

Someone's been to town on you.
Who did this?

I fell down stairs.

Who brought you in?

Uncle Mick. He's my uncle.

How old are you, Deborah?

16.

And what do you do for a living?

-Seamstress.
-You're a seamstress?!

Oh, Deborah,
a seamstress has calluses -
hands like a pincushion,

Not like these.

Half a gram of morphia, please,
nurse.

Ah. Good.

No, I'll do that. I'll do that.

Why don't you come round here?
Have a look.

Come on.

Tell me what you think.

Hold still, please.

Don't bloody touch me!

It'll hurt
if you don't stay still.

CULPIN: That's a good girl.

WHIMPERING

EXPLOSION

RUMBLING, HORSE WHINNIES

Continue.

TELEPHONE RINGS

Receiving room.

The ninth and tenth ribs
are broken.

And?

The chest expansion is
asymmetrical.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Tell me.

-Explosion on Grange Road.
-How many injured?

Can't say. They'll be here
in five minutes

All right. All right.
Have the trolleys standing by.

Alert the wards. I need to know
how many beds we have
and where they are.

Any spare nurses, get them here.
And clear the road outside.

-Let's admit her.
-What about the uncle?

He can wait
but let the porters know.

And watch him.
Watch him like a hawk.

KNOCK AT DOOR

DOOR OPENING

I've had a telephone call
from Scotland Yard.

They think it might be a bomb.

Oh, God preserve us.

TELEPHONE RINGS

Quickly now.

CRASHING
MAN: Doctor!

Morphia, splints, dressings!
And bring the Junkers.

-PATIENT SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE
-What did he say?

-I don't know.
-Get him into three.
I'll be there soon.

WAILING

INGRAMS: Get him
to an examination room.

WAILING

I'm sorry,
but you'll have to wait outside.

Nurse Bennett?

Scissors, cocaine spray
and a roll of sutures.

Where does it hurt?

MAN: Can't hear you.
I can't hear you!

-I can't hear!
-Nurse Bennett!

NURSE BENNETT: Hold that there,
would you? That's it.

-There was a flash.
Funny thing is, I knew.
-What?

That it was a bomb. I just knew.

Another roll, please. Go on.

It felt like hours.

Then I heard the screaming.

Nurse Bennett. Don't they teach
you to clear up after yourself?

Exam room one,
lousy little thing, move it.

Ingrams? What have you?

Shrapnel injuries, cuts,
burns, so on. Blast trauma,
burst eardrum.

Look for subdural haemorrhaging.

Compound fractures, both tibia.
Cerebral compression.

All right.
This man needs the theatre.

Where are the surgeons?
Get him into
an examination room for now.

Puncture wounds to chest,
neck and face, nothing deep.

-Get him to ward.
-Complete carnage.

All right.

I'll take this side.
The rest are yours.

TELEPHONE RINGS

CONTINUES RINGING

Dean.

Go boil your bloody head,
I said I'm stopping here!

-You'll do as you're told.
-I'll do as I bloody well like!

Don't touch me!

DISTANT SCREAMS OF AGONY

CHILD CRYING

I saw him running away,
just before it happened.
It was clear as day.

Change the dressings
every four hours.

Yes, Sister.

MAN: Make a bit of room.

-Who's the taking-in?
-Dr Culpin.

He says you have two empty beds
marked on the daily sheet.

Surely Dr Culpin
knows the standing orders?

We've had no notification.

-I'll have to go down
and get his signature.
-Nurse Granger, I'll go.

-But, Sister...
-I said I'll go.

Where can I find Dr Culpin?

MAN: Argh!

KNOCK AT DOOR

Good to see you, Sister.
How can I help?

-Dr Culpin, I need to speak to..
-Forceps. Quickly, please

PATIENT GROANING

Sister, could you, er...
Could you take over for me
here, please?

Under-run the vessels
and tie off.

Irrigate and
get a clamp in there.
Try and staunch that bleed.

-Dr Culpin, I'm not authorised..
-You are now.

You wanted to see me
about something?

Doesn't matter now.

Whitehall chooses to hang
an open sign in the window,
what do you expect?

-I don't follow.
-The Aliens Act, Mr Holland.

We let in thousands of them.

Revolutionaries, too,
right here in Whitechapel.

All I need is a couple of hours.
Four officers.

-Interrogating patients?
-Making enquiries.

Are you asking our permission,
Detective Superintendent?

I'm asking
for your cooperation, sir.

DOCTOR: Cerebral compression.

Why should we give it?

For the safety
of the British public.

I'm all for rooting out
the malefactors,

but you must understand,
this is a hospital.

It's also an opportunity,
with respect, sir.

Someone had to set
the damn thing off.

To set it off,
they had to be near it.

If they were near it,
chances are they'll be in there.

If you let in the jungle,
you have to be prepared
for jungle ways.

Fractured pelvis.

GROANING

Fractured, certainly,
but there's no rotation.

Let's get him upstairs.

And, er, I'll take
the cerebral compression

and the fractured
coronoid process.

Nurse.

SIGHS

First blow is half the battle.

NURSE: Mr Fenwick?

So, what have we here?

No, thank you.
I always have my own.

Now, then...
That's it, that's it.

Let's see if we can't save
the old mince, eh?

-Sorry?
-Mince pie, eye.

This is the East End, Nurse!

-Next.
-This way.

MATRON: They're patients,
Sydney, not suspects.

The point is they could be both.

Not here! Look at their faces.

These people come from countries
where every policeman is a thug.

-They won't come here
if they don't feel safe.
-I've made my decision.

Are you sure
you haven't let them
make it for you?

Compacted fracture
of the humerus.

-So Dr Culpin told me.
-Hmm.

Hm. Brave little soldier, eh?
What's your name?

He's Michael.

He's going to need
an operation, I'm afraid.
How about that, Michael?

Keeping me busy, eh?

WOMAN: The arm,
will it be all right, Doctor?

My dear woman,
he'll bowl for England. Next!

-This way.
-See you later.

Ah.

There's three witnesses, sir.
All saw him running away,

up Commercial Road.

OFFICER: Where is he?

Follow me.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Excuse me, Nurse.

It's all right, don't...

PATIENT SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE

I'm afraid
I must ask you to leave.

-We wish to ask
this gentleman...
-This minute! Out.

Wait over there.
I'll call you when I've finished

-Sister.
-Matron.

You can go in, if you wish.

Can't see a damn thing.
Swabs.

No corneal reflex
and his pulse is dropping.

-Add strychnine to the saline.
-DEBORAH: Let go!

Ingrams, come on, man!
Get his legs up on the blocks.

Culpin? I'm on the qui vive.

Seymour and Burgess are tied up.

I need someone
as an anaesthetist upstairs.

-PDQ!
-Culpin?

HE SPEAKS BROKEN YIDDISH

Hold still now, please.
That's good.

PATIENT GROANS

1 in 500 perchloride of mercury.

SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE

That's not Yiddish.

It's Russian.

-SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE
-Well, some of it. That was
Lettish. He's Latvian.

How do you know?

You hear it all
in this hospital.

Mr Fenwick, you ought to know,

I've only ever done this,
administered anaesthetics,
in training.

There's nothing to it.

Stuff. Stuffist.
Shall we make a start?

Mason's.

Keep calm.
It won't take a minute.

PATIENT GROANING

Under the teeth.

That's it.

Ethyl chloride, Mr Fenwick?

I prefer chloroform
from the off,
if you don't mind.

Old dogs, new tricks
and all that.

That's 4ccs of chloroform
into the inhaler,

turn the dial to half way.

Anaesthesia's not a science,
despite what you may have
learned in the manuals.

It's an art.
No hard and fast rules, you see.

Hold him steady.

Just breathe for me now.

WHIMPERING

That's it.

Give the bag a good squeeze.
Hold him.

-Under starter's orders!
-Wait!

-Ingrams...
-Wait.

We've got four more
to get through.

Right.

And we're off!

Trained with your father,
back in the Jurassic.

Brilliant surgeon.
The very best.

Not easy, is it?

Following in their footsteps.
PATIENT GROANS

Needs another blast.

That's it.

All that glory to live up to.

Scalpel.

OFFICER: We're just waiting
for a translator.

-He's Latvian, Mr Holland.
-And that's significant?

The gang responsible
for the shootings in Tottenham
were Latvian anarchists.

I see.

We lost two officers
in Tottenham.

And a child.

But Tottenham was a robbery,
guns, not bombs.

With respect, sir,
they don't call it robbery.
They call it expropriation.

To fund the revolution.

The capitalist beast must pay
for its own destruction.

Their politics are
of no interest to me.
And nor yours.

Just do your job.
And let us do ours.

SISTER RUSSELL:
The superficial fragments
I have managed to get out.

But the deep ones,
I was worried about
damaging the tissue.

Thank you for your help, Sister.

Both of them
to Wellington, please.

All of you,
follow me to Wellington Ward.

-Sister Russell...
-Come along.

Sister...

She's as stubborn as a mule.

So am I.

Come with me.

Now.

This way!

Come along.

Leave the girl in my office.

There's room here and here.

And another bed could go here.

We'll need bed frames and
mattresses from the store.
Open a window.

They'll have to stay on
the trolleys down the centre
of the ward for now.

Strip bed four and ten
and have them made up.

We're going to need fresh linen.

COUGHING

Let's make a start, shall we?

DOOR CLOSES

How old are you, Deborah?

Says in there, doesn't it?

It says you're 16.

Must be 16, then.

-You expect me to believe that?
-Believe what you like.

Oh, I will, thank you.

When did you last eat?

Tell you what, I'll have
something brought out
from the kitchen.

How about that?
What would you like?

BELL RINGING

It's all lies, isn't it?

16, seamstress...

..all that nonsense.

I've seen girls like you before.

What girls?

Girls with uncles.

You'd do better
to tell the truth, believe me.

Deborah?

DOOR OPENS

Ah, Probationer.

Miss Lynch is to have a shower.

Wh-what?!
You never said nothing about...

Yes, Sister.

Hey, "Miss Lynch", it's a bit
fancy, that, isn't it?

What's your real name, then?
I'm Nellie.

Deborah.

Oh, Deborah. Well,
come with me, then, Deborah.

Lamb chops and a pint of porter.

DOOR CLOSES

Move out of the way, please.
Thank you.

OFFICER: What about him?

-Know him?
-Nyet!

One of your chums?
He's an anarchist,
he's a Russian.

SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE

He says he's never
seen these men before.

He's been in London three weeks.

CULPIN: Right,
this is going to hurt.
Could you tell him?

Can you tell him, please,
it's going to hurt?

SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE

PATIENT YELLS IN PAIN

Swabs, and cyanide wool
in the cavity, please, Nurse.

It's just in here, Deborah.

It's all right.

Just wait for it
to warm up a bit.

That's it. Now in you get.

Don't be frightened.
It's only water.
It won't hurt you.

Here...

you can hold my hand,
if you like.

That's it.

-SHE GASPS
-You see?

Right under now.

BREATHLESSLY GIGGLING

That's a good girl.

LAUGHING

Ask him how it is that all
his injuries are to his back.

Were you running away?

BOTH SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE

He was not running.
He was walking.

Is it illegal
to walk down the street?
He wants to know.

Thank you, Probationer Bowers.

WHISPERS (What's that smell?)

Gonorrhoea.

Come here.

SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE

-TRANSLATOR: I know the law...
-Scalpel.

What charges are you making,
I am innocent,
I have done nothing wrong.

-Don't tell me about the law...
-CULPIN: Quiet, please!
Thank you.

Scalpel.

MOROSOV YELLS IN PAIN

He's not my uncle.

He's my dad.

All the other girls call him
uncle, so I call him uncle.

Uncle Mick.

He's all right, Uncle Mick.

As long as I do what I'm told
with the other gentlemen.

He's saving up for me and him.

Says we'll go away somewhere.

I know I'm sick...

..down there.

Fine.

I'm a harlot.

-Sister Russell?
-Wait a minute.

Sister, it's Mr Dean.

Come here.

Stay there.

One cc in a 10% solution.

Stovaine.

And you are all, of course,
aware that there has been
considerable resistance

to the routine use of this drug.

And to spinal anaesthesia
in general.

One in 300 biniodide of mercury.

Why?

Because stovaine is derived
from a compound

with a notoriously poisonous
and treacherous nature,
namely cocaine.

Ah, Sister.

It's good of you to join us.

Note, we do not require
the assistance of any burly men

to hold the patient down.

No mouth clamps or any other
medieval instruments of torture.

While the anaesthetic...

is delivered.

PATIENT GROANING

Withdraw the stylet.

And can you see
the spinal fluid there?

Mixing with the solution?

Now...

Collodion gauze.

And you, sir, onto your back.

GROANING

Gently does it.

And that's it.

Catheter.

What am I supposed
to do with it,

it's for the patient,
silly girl.

Well, get on with it!

Don't worry, Nurse,
it won't bite you.

Oh, for heaven's sake, girl,
it's a male member,
it's not a cobra.

Stand aside. Sister.

PATIENT INHALING SHARPLY

PATIENT MOANING

Very good.

Gentlemen, uh...
Theatre in ten minutes.

Mr Dean? May I have a word?

Yes?

Your patient's been complaining
of stomach pain.

He hasn't passed urine,
even with the catheter.

I think the urethra
might be damaged.

Don't think, Sister.
That's not what you're here for.

I think...
the urethra might be damaged.

Deborah!

Get your hands off me!

Damn you.

Damn...

It just rained the whole time!

I suppose you can't have
everything, can you?
You comfortable?

MAN: Yes, sir, thank you.

I chose Lake Como
because of Pliny the Younger.

Have you read his letters?

I don't think
he's got my dress, sir.

-STUDENTS CHUCKLING
-Quiet!

Anyway, it's a lovely spot,
Como. Well, so I'm told,

Well, so I'm told,
when the sun is shining.

It's rain, rain, rain,
the whole time!
Would you believe it?

Swab please.
So, as you can see,

our patient, though untutored
in the Latin of the Silver Age,

is lucid and free of any pain.

My intention now is to isolate
and remove a sharp spicule
of bone

that has broken away
from the pelvic crest

and penetrated the femoral vein.

Tell me, Mr Hubner,
what can you feel?

Well, it's like somebody's
having a good rummage
down there.

LAUGHING

Best behaviour now, chaps.
I'm sorry, Mr Holland,

we are just...finishing off.

Another cup of tea?

Yes, thank you, sir.

Mr Dean?

-I can see, I can see.
Try and keep it drained.
-What is it?

-What's going on?
-I need to extend this incision.
I need a clearer view.

Scalpel, please.
Oh, damn it!

Oh, for heaven's sake,
I can't see.
Pull it back further!

Four... Er, no. Three ccs
of ether into the inhaler.

He's only a little chap.

You know the story of
Sleeping Beauty?

That's it.
And gently over the face.

Well, she fell asleep
for a hundred years.

You'll be awake by teatime!

Now, just breathe for me.

Nice and deep.
That's good.

Nurses, would you mind.
One on each side, thank you.

One breath of air
to every three from the bag.
Understand?

Scalpel.

Regular and deep now,
Mr Fenwick.

Bright and breezy,
slips in easy.

Aahhhh!

Let's tie this
little bleeder off. Sutures.

And snip.

There.

Traumatic rupture to the urethra

Oh, it's nothing to worry about,
Mr Hubner. Safe to proceed now.

Get Mr Hubner
another cup of tea. Scalpel.

And syringe.

And get the drain.

Then we can close him up.

Oh, please... Please.

Yes, the brachialis anticus
and the outer head
of the triceps

-have been completely torn away.
-He's hypotensive...

-Get that Clovers away,
he's gone in too deep!
-He's cyanotic.

Strychnine and caffeine,
hypodermically!

Take the leg. Higher!

-I'm losing him...
-We need every drop of blood

back up into the core. Come on!

Come on!

-No pulse.
-Tongue forceps!

Still cyanosed.
Still not breathing.

FENWICK: Artificial respiration.
Sylvester method.

One, two...

..four, five, six.

-Nothing.
-And again.

One, two...

FENWICK COUNTS UNDER HIS BREATH

-No.
-No, no.

He's gone.

Ask him again.

Has he ever been
to the Anarchists' Club
in Jubilee Street?

SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE

KNOCKING

Sir, may I have a word?

I see.

And the South Metropolitan gas
company have admitted
responsibility, have they?

The gas was leaking
into the old sewer main,
or some such.

-No bomb?
-No bomb.

So no Jewish anarchists?

No stone unturned,
under the circumstances.

-You do understand?
-Perfectly.

-Then may I take this
opportunity to say...
-You may.

In writing. Thank you,
Detective Superintendent.

Sir.

Ma'am.

SPEAKING IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE

-What's he say?
-I think you get his meaning.

About five minutes in,
the breathing became stertorous,

and there was a certain amount
of muscular twitching.

So I increased the air...

Very well.
I'll check for heart problems.

The condition of the myocardium,
valvular defects,

the usual suspects.

Anything else that might
indicate ill health?

Albumin or glucose in the urine,

any sign of pneumonia?

Anything?

Oh, well.
Not a lot to play with.

A full PM this evening,
six o' clock.

Make him presentable
for his mother first.

-Mrs Perkins?
-Yes?

FENWICK: I have some
very bad news, I'm afraid.

About half an hour ago,
your son, Michael, died.

I'm so very sorry...

SIGHING

I had to unscrew
the mouth clamp.

He still had his milk teeth.

There's going to be
a post-mortem.

What am I going to say?

Tell the truth.

Fenwick wanted three ccs
in the bag.

Or four, I can't remember.

But I did as I was told.

-It is the truth.
-There you are.

Perhaps.

You're a doctor, Ingrams.

You have to live with "perhaps".

What's my old man going to say?

Mr Dean.

I'd like to...

Sister...

You were absolutely right.

The urethra was split.
There was blood and urine
in the pelvic cavity,

which explains the discomfort.

Thank you.

Well, the tonsils and lymph
gland were slightly enlarged.

The boy's health
was compromised.

No. You don't need a post-mortem
to tell you what he died of.

You can smell it from here,
Smith, ether. Unmistakable.

Cause of death,
cytotoxic toxic cerebral oedema.

For the coroner,
swelling of the brain
as a result of the anaesthetics.

I won't let it be
for nothing, Smith.

You're here for the inventory
inspection, Miss Luckes...

No, I'm not here for the
inventory Sister Russell.

Will you walk with me?

Mr Chandler.
When is your operation?

In the morning, Matron.

Ah, jolly good.
Carry on, Probationer.

The world is changing around us,
Sister Russell.

We both saw that today.

But the hospital
must remain sacrosanct,

devoted to the care
of the patients

Now, I saw how you handled
the police today,

and I need a sister
in the receiving room like you.

Someone with the strength and
courage to carry out my wishes
in the face of the police,

the politicians,
and the surgeons.

Will you do this for me?

Yes, Matron. Of course.

You'll be my
first line of defence.

Good night, Sister.

Do you know what I like to do
after a day like this?

I buy a ticket for the tram,
I sit on the top deck,

and feel the wind in my hair.

Just until Hyde Park and back.

Would you care to join me?

I can't think of anything
I'd like to do more.

FENWICK: 497.

That's how many operations
I performed in the last year.

How many of those patients
died on the table,

truthfully,
as a result of anaesthetics?

Three.

I've just come from the fourth.

I'm sorry.

That's not the point, is it?

The point is, we cannot go on
pretending it's acceptable.

Calling it something else.

Weak heart, pneumonia,
swollen lymph glands...

I can't. Not any more.

So, what is it you want?

I tell you what I don't want.

I don't want to have to fish
inexperienced doctors
like young Ingrams-

good doctors, maybe -
out of the receiving room.

I cannot do my job
and theirs as well.

The current system...
It's not a system at all.

I want to make a suggestion.

And I know I've argued
against this many times.

But consistency, let's face it,
is the last refuge
of the unimaginative.

HOLLAND: Hmm.

We must have trained,
specialist anaesthetists
in the hospital

at all times. Otherwise...

To inconsistency.

Thank you, Harry.

Four out of 497 doesn't
sound like much, does it?

You tell the mothers,
the wives, the sons.