The Summer of Sir Lancelot

You keep an eye on the old ‘ealth, and I‘ll come every six months until the unfortunate eventuality what you‘ve prepared for takes place. That‘s a bargain, eh?‘
    ‘The interests of medical science — ‘ tried the surgeon uncomfortably. ‘There‘s just one thing, though,‘ Crimes mentioned. ‘I‘m forty next birthday, and you‘re forty-two. Pardon the liberty, I looked you up in my governor‘s Who‘s Who. So there might be a bit of a race of it in the final straight, eh?‘ He laughed. ‘But don‘t worry, sir,‘ he added affably, ‘I‘m a sportsman, and I can see you are too.‘
    And now, Sir Lancelot reflected as he eyed his reluctant patient beside that blackboard, the fellow was actually employed in the hospital. It was like the lamb to the slaughter being taken on as a household pet.
    ‘I‘m glad you find the job congenial, Crimes,‘ Sir Lancelot nodded briskly. ‘I should avoid any heavy lifting.‘
    ‘I‘m sure that‘s good advice, Doctor.‘ He gave a wink. ‘We all begin to feel our age some time, don‘t we, sir?‘
    Sir Lancelot strode into the crowd of out-patients without replying. That wink of Crimes‘ always had a stupidly uncomfortable effect on him.
    ‘Can I help you?‘
    Sir Lancelot looked up. A pretty young girl in a smart mauve uniform stood smiling in front of him.
    ‘Help me?‘ he asked blankly.
    He noticed a badge on her bosom saying HOSTESS. It‘s odd that our age seems to need a hostess at everything, from a transatlantic flight to a supermarket.
    ‘I expect you‘re a new patient, aren‘t you?‘
    She gave a smile which was friendly and reassuring but not inviting. She had been trained specially to produce it.
    ‘My dear young lady, I assure you I can find my way perfectly well — ‘
    ‘Now, shall we go over here first?‘
    The hostess took him gently by the sleeve. She had been trained specially to handle argumentative old men.
    ‘Miss Eernlove —‘
    A nineteen-year-old girl with bright blond hair and jet-black eyebrows was leaning behind a counter in a mauve overall.
    ‘I have a new patient, Miss Eernlove. Will you take his particulars, please?‘
    ‘Name?‘ demanded the girl, her tone indicating the intrusion interrupted some particularly attractive private thoughts.
    Sir Lancelot drew himself up. He didn‘t want unduly to offend these two females, but they had to be put in their place.
    ‘The name,‘ he announced majestically, ‘happens to be Spratt.‘
    ‘One “t” or two?‘ asked the girl.
    ‘Really!‘ harked Sir Lancelot. ‘I take it you are a new employee here? I should be obliged if you would kindly — ‘
    ‘Initial?‘ invited the girl tonelessly.
    Sir Lancelot banged the counter.
    ‘Now, now!‘ The hostess gently waved a finger. She had been trained specially to handle violent cases.
    ‘Really, madam, I must call a halt to this... this... ‘
    He glanced round wildly. There was nobody official in sight. No Sister Out Patients. Not even Crimes.
    ‘Initial?‘ repeated the girl flatly.
    ‘L,‘ snapped Sir Lancelot.
    ‘L for Lionel?‘
    ‘L for Lancelot, damn you!‘
    ‘Mind yer language!‘ snapped the girl, coming to life.
    ‘I‘m afraid these questions are all necessary, Lancelot,‘ purred the hostess. ‘You see, the doctors couldn‘t continue their great work of healing here otherwise. Just tell Miss Fernlove your age, now.‘
    Sir Lancelot produced the yellow silk handkerchief.
    ‘Twenty-one,‘ he declared.
    ‘Occupation?‘ inquired Miss Fernlove.
    ‘Deipnosophist.‘
    ‘Religion?‘
    ‘Warlock.‘
    ‘Got a letter from your doctor?‘
    ‘No,‘ Sir Lancelot swallowed. ‘No, young lady, I have not got a letter from any doctor.‘
    ‘Got your P/P?‘
    ‘Thank you, but it was unnecessary to bring a specimen.‘
    ‘That‘s the form you get from the porter by the blackboard,‘ explained the hostess gently.
    ‘Good God!‘ Sir Lancelot re-exploded. ‘I‘ve come here for an X-ray, not to renew my ruddy dog licence-‘
    ‘Will you kindly remember you are in a hospital, Mr Spratt?‘ The hostess‘ smile, which had been steadily dimming, finally went out. ‘You must try and conduct yourself appropriately.‘
    ‘Look here, young woman, I‘ve spilt more blood in this place than you have circulating in your entire body — ‘
    ‘Please!‘ She shut her eyes. ‘Don‘t be crude.‘
    ‘Has everybody gone mad? Is the entire hospital in a state of anarchy?‘ Sir Lancelot took another bang at