Tales from Woolwich

A cold February morning in the waiting room of the Clarendon surgery, Burrage road, Woolwich, South London. Enter Mr. Adcock, stage left. Mr Adcock is wearing a a greasy mac, a bobble hat and sandals (no socks).

Mr Adcock: Hallo Joy, how`s your love life then? I don`t need no Viagra, me, oh no not me! Still on the pills then Joy eh? How much they give you then?

Joy: Two hundred-

Mr Adcock: Ooh they nearly killed me they did, nearly killed me a hundred times they did. They`re the strong ones they are. They never done me no good. I nearly died on ECT I did. I heard them say he looks dead we`ve killed him this time but when they turned me off the bed they got a surprise I can tell you. I was alive. They don`t kill me that easy.

Joy: I-

Mr Adcock: Most of me mates are dead now. Three of them jump off Nightingales Tower. Three of them. And most of the rest. Wanted a fag before I come in here. Load of rubbish fags give you cancer. It`s all the car fumes and planes pollution to blame. Load of rubbish that is.

Joy:They should-

Mr Adcock: When I was a boy they used to give a boy a cigarette to clear out the phlegm. They knew it never done no harm. Coach works. I used to work in a coach works.

Beep

Mr Adcock: Oh that`s me.