Melchett (the man from the CCG): Well, fine surgery you’ve got here, Dr Blackadder.
Edmund (the senior partner): Yes, sir — shortly to become a surgery that needs improvement.
Melchett: Nonsense — you’ll pull through. (laughs) I remember when we played the old Harrovians back in ’96: they said we never could break through to their back line, but we ducked and we bobbed and we wove and we damn well won the game, 15-4.
Edmund: Yes, sir, but the Harrow fullback wasn’t armed with the CQC primary care inspection handbook.
Melchett: No — that’s a good point. Make a note, Darling…
Darling (his assistant): Sir.
Melchett: “Recommendation for the CCG: CQC inspectors for fullbacks.” Bright idea, Blackadder: (speaks to Baldrick) Now then, nurse, are you looking forward to giving the CQC a damn good licking?
Darling: Er, no, sir – that would be against infection control protocols.
Melchett: Don’t be revolting, Darling! I wouldn’t lick a CQC inspector if he was glazed in honey!
Melchett: (back to Baldrick) Now then, nurse, do you love your surgery?
Baldrick: Certainly do, sir.
Melchett: And do you love your GPs?
Baldrick: Certainly don’t, sir.
Melchett: And why not?
Baldrick: My mother told me never to trust men with beards, sir.
Melchett: (laughs) Excellent native nursey wit! (hits Baldrick in the face; Baldrick falls over) Well, best of luck to you all. Sorry I can’t be with you, but obviously there’s no place at the coalface for an old pencil-pusher with a dicky heart and a wooden bladder. By the way, Dr George, if you want a job back at the CCG to watch the inspection results as they come in, I think I can guarantee a place.
George (the salaried GP): Oh, no, thank you, sir — I wouldn’t miss this inspection for anything. I am as excited as a very excited person who’s got a special reason to be excited, sir.
Melchett: Excellent! Well, then. See you all at the protected learning session for coffee and cakes.
(Melchett and Darling leave)
Edmund: Well, Dr George. You were offered a way out, and you didn’t take it.
George: Absolutely not, Dr Blackadder! I can’t wait to get stuck into the CQC!
Edmund: You won’t have time to get `stuck into the CQC’! We’ll all be cut to pieces by questions about vulnerable patient groups before we can say, “Hello.”
George: All right, so, what do we do now?
Baldrick: Can I do my CQC poem?
Edmund: How hurt would you be if I gave the honest answer, which is “No, I’d rather French-kiss a skunk”?
Baldrick: So would I, doctor!
Edmund: All right. Fire away, Nurse Baldrick.
Baldrick: “Hear the words I sing / CQCs a horrid thing / So I sing sing sing / ding-a-ling-a-ling.”
George: (applauding) Oh, bravo, yes!
Edmund: Yes. Well, it started badly, it tailed off a little in the middle, and the less said about the end, the better. But, apart from that, excellent.
Baldrick: Oh, shall I do another one, then, Dr Blackadder?
Edmund: No — we wouldn’t want to exhaust you.
Baldrick: No, don’t worry; I could go on all night.
Edmund: Not with a tourniquet around your neck, you couldn’t!
Baldrick: This one is called “The CQC Guns.”
George: Oh, spiffing! Yes, let’s hear that!
Baldrick: “Doom doom doom doom / doom doom doom / DOOM DOOM, DOOM DOOM–
Edmund: ” DOOM DOOM DOOM”?
Baldrick: How did you guess, doctor?
George: I say, Dr Blackadder! That is spooky!
Edmund: I’m sorry, I think I’ve got to get out of here!!!
Baldrick: Well, I have a cunning plan, doctor.