Doc Martin

You've got a problem.

This is our district-nurse governor; Hilary Richards.

And Bob Matthias; the general-practice adviser to the PCT.

Oh; and Louisa Glasson; the lay member.

- Well; shall we go through? - Yeah.

Yeah.

Any further questions?

Apart from; "What have we done to deserve so eminent an applicant?" Eh?

- Good. So... - (Louisa) Sorry; can I just ask...

How would you describe your interpersonal skills?

I've been a surgeon for 12 years.

Ran a team of senior registrars at St John's. Think that speaks for itself.

The image of a surgeon is someone who deals with cases rather than individuals;

bodies rather than people.

My work is with the patients. That's nothing but dealing with bodies.

People.

If you want to be a GP in our village; social skills and a good bedside manner are essential.

Louisa; I think that Dr Ellingham is more than qualified.

To alienate people; perhaps.

Nothing I've seen of him so far convinces me that he's a proper replacement for Dr Sim.

Martin.

Mart!

You cross the line just once in Portwenn; and...

- Will you stop that? - Is the vision a little blurred in that eye?

Yes.

- Fixed; semidilated pupil. Bit of pain? - Sometimes. What?

It's acute glaucoma.

- You're kidding? - No. You should see an eye specialist today.

Martin!

Excuse me.

Here's to Dr Ellingham; our new man in Portwenn.

Dr Ellingham.

Er... what do you want?

Go away. Go away.

- Go! - (whimpers)

What's he gone and done?

Parked it down there at low tide!

Charlie.

Are you Doc Martin?

No. No; I'm Dr Ellingham.

I'm Elaine.

That must be nice for you.

- Practice receptionist. - Oh; right. I'm not hiring yet.

I've come from Delabole.

Is that far?

I've come from Delabole!

There's no point in going then coming back later.

Might as well just start now; innit?

Careful; careful!

Let me... Give me that. Go on. In you go.

- How are you feeling today? - Fine.

No ringing in the ears? Ellingham.

Hang on. It's for you. I'm not here.

- Elaine's not here. - Wait; hold on. Is that Greg?

Are you Greg? Elaine for you.

I'm not talking to Greg.

Yeah?

Yeah.

No. Look; you're needy and I'm 26; innit.

Do you mind?

Oh; God.

- Is there any milk? - One spore or two?

- What? - It had turned to penicillin. It's in the bin.

Hello? I need coffee.

Elaine; since you're here; there are things to organise.

- Like what? - Well; like a new exam couch for starters.

Wait.

Yeah.

- An examination light. - Yeah.

- A functioning sphygmomanometer. - Yeah.

What's that?

- It measures blood pressure. - Yeah. Anything else?

- No; that's all for now. - Right.

"Milk; biscuits"?

While you're getting that other stuff. Oh; and Hello magazine. Write it down.

I'm not your personal shopper. I want you to find me a medical-equipment supplier.

Is that how you treated people up in London?

No wonder you're down here with your tail between your legs.

The lads and meself would like to wish you every happiness in your new home.

Thanks very much.

So.

So.

- You'd like a tip. - Well; if you're offering.

Tell me something; when the surgeon stitched up your hernia; did you give him a tip?

All right; mate.

You Doc Martin?

- I prefer "Dr Ellingham". - (laughter)

There a Mrs Doc?

- No; there isn't. - Oh; are you lonely?

Gilbert Spencer. Lieutenant colonel. Retired.

Martin Ellingham. Doctor. Practising.

- May I come in? - No.

I'm not open till next week. So if you don't mind; unless it's urgent...

The last chap saw you when you needed him; not when it suited him.

Interesting. Do you want an appointment on Tuesday?

Look...

It is urgent.

- What seems to be the problem? - Well; it's a difficult issue.

L-I suppose a cup of tea is out of the question; is it?

Yes.

Well...

It's a problem in the chest department.

A matter of excess weight.

Right. Fewer carbohydrates; more protein; get some exercise.

- Are we done? - No; no; no; no. It-it's...

breasts.

It-it seems to be.

- It's not unusual. Perfectly normal for men... - Normal?

...to have a little breast tissue. - It's a disgrace.

- Quite possibly. Do you have another problem? - What?

- Is there anything else the matter with you? - Is that all you have to say?

Men have breast tissue. Men even account for some breast cancers. It's perfectly normal.

Wow.

Right.

The medical term is gynaecomastia.

There can be a number of causes - genetic; environmental.

Could it be something to do with the water? There have been rumours.

I sincerely hope not or we'll all be needing a bra. If you'd like to lie down.

Now; look here. I'm a respected member of this community.

- I did not come here to be ridiculed by you. - Oh; come on.

- A local man would have known better. - He's dead and you had no appointment.

For your information; I did have an appointment;

which I made myself with the young lady on the telephone.

I shall travel to Wadebridge surgery in the future;

where no appointment is necessary.

Colonel.

Colonel!

Colonel; please; come back.

I really think we ought to finish your consultation.

Wow.

You're good.

- I'm looking for Haven Farm. - You Doc Martin?

- No; I'm not "Doc" anybody. - Yes; you are. You're Doc Martin.

I'm just trying to f... Oh; never mind.

Yeah; definitely Bodmin.

- Little Marty. - Auntie Joan.

Some arse tried to run me off the road. Came at me in a narrow lane.

Are you a man or a mouse? Those lanes have bags of room.

You'll stay for chicken?

You know; I still can't get used to the idea of you as a surgeon.

Now you only have to get used to the idea of me as a GP.

Last time you were here you got a splinter in your finger and cried.

- I was seven. - You were 11! And you wet the bed.

Not exactly the stuff of which... of which...

surgeons are made; hm?

Right; hang on to this one.

There you go.

I always hoped that you'd grow up not looking like your father; but there you go.

You as stubborn as he is; too? Yes; of course you are.

- Have you heard from him? - No.

God forgive me for cursing my own brother; but he is a bloody idiot.

No; we'll have that one.

- Well; go on. - Auntie Joan; no. I...

Oh; Martin; for heaven's sake.

Right. There we go.

Well; come on.

- So; what went wrong? - With what?

Well; swanky surgeon in London one minute; GP in Portwenn the next.

- You're here. - Oh; don't be ridiculous.

I've been here for 30 years and I haven't seen you. Was it a woman?

- No; it wasn't a woman. - Lack of a woman.

I saw two practices; couldn't decide between them; then I saw Portwenn.

- (laughs) - What?

When you talk to the locals you might try and sound a bit more pleased to be here.

Actually; l-l-l-I can't stop. I just remembered. I just wanted to say hello; anyway.

Martin? Martin; you've got to eat.

I do have a surgery to set up and I've got to arrange for a plumber.

I'll send the Large boys round. They'll fix up your plumbing for you.

I'll tell you this. No woman will fix your plumbing up if you go round looking that pale.

You need to eat.

Oh; dear; oh; dear.

Who put that lot in for you; Doc; eh?

- Whole lot have to come out. - Yeah; yeah.

I know you've got to make money; and to you I'm a down-from-town Londoner; but I'm not an idiot.

Hang on to your hat; Doc; I'm just pulling your chain. That's one of ours; innit?

Have it fixed for you in a jiffy. No charge.

- Thank you. - Probably just a new tap. I'll try the washer.

Yeah. You try the washer; son.

Here; Doc; I'm not one to criticise; but you wanna relax.

Down here we just go with the flow.

Right.

Go away! Go away! I've nothing for you.

Get... Go away!

Definitely Bodmin.

Bodmin. That's an endearing local term for "barmy" right?

Well; someone who's Bodmin is... Well; it's kinda like...

Well; the thing is... OK; now; what happens is...

- Treat yourself to a noun. - It's someone who wanders on the moor.

Auntie Annie; she went Bodmin; but she never went near the moor. Do you remember?

- Going Bodmin is... - I think I get the picture.

Unless it came from the old asylum in Bodmin town. Or it could be a literary reference.

What are you going on about; boy?

Old Doc Martin don't want a reference. No; he just wants to know what it means.

Daphne Du Maurier paints Bodmin Moor as a Gothic symbol of murder and madness.

All granite skies and howling winds.

You'll be going Bodmin yourself in a minute; boy.

- Dad! Not that one! No! - Yeah.

Try it again now. This happens all the time. Soon have it sorted.

But where's the... the bloody... whatsitcalled?

- You know... - I can help you with this term.