One Man Star Wars Trilogy

One Man Star Wars Trilogy at Worthing's Pavilion Theatre 24th May 2011

http://www.onemanstarwars.com/

I really didn't know what to expect from this as I'd never seen a One Man Show before that wasn't a stand up comedian. The reason I decided to see this particular show is that my cinema buddy (who is a HUGE Star Wars fan) won tickets to see the show and asked me to go. Mainly because I also like Star Wars and also because I knew how to get to the theatre.

It was touch and go at the start as the One Man (Charles Ross) does the music as well as acting out the scenes and I was a little uncertain at this point if he was just insane. But as he got into his routine the show picked up it's pace and started to flow. The laughs came thick and fast with his whiny impersonation of Luke (spot on), his cocksure version of Han (complete with swagger) and his continually unimpressed and annoyed Leia (complete with hands in place of hair buns).  

Each film is over and done with in 20 minutes, which obviously means a lot is cut out, but the genius of it is that you don't really feel like anything's been missed. Empire's opening sequence with the Wampa is done so well, as is Luke's first meeting with Yoda. Han and Leia's first kiss is hilarious when played out by one person and even the lightsabre duels are sound, action and word perfect. 

The most impressive part for me was the start of Return of the Jedi when Ross spoke using the exact language of Jabba and the Gamorrean Guard. His Jabba was honestly superb. I was also very impressed by the use of the Pavilion Theatre's mirror ball during the Death Star explosions. Considering this was a show with no props, this was put to fantastic effect. 

I think my favourite moment came during Ross's re-enaction of Return of the Jedi, when Luke confirms to Leia that she's his sister on the planet Endor, and she kisses him goodbye. At this point Ross turns to the audience and says "if there's one thing we've learnt from Star Wars, it's 'don't kiss your sister like that'!'"

An excellent show which I would highly recommend to any Star Wars fan. Or to non Star Wars fans, as we had someone in our audience who'd never seen a Star Wars film! How one man can encompass all of these characters amazes me. I wish him every success and will happily pay to see him if he tours these parts again. 

Home Is Where The Heart Is

My regular readers will know that I recently went back up north to spend the 'Royal Wedding' bank holiday weekend with my friends and family in Lancashire.

My time up north is always a mixed bag of emotions as I love getting to see everyone up there, but it also makes me remember why I left. There is usually at least one argument with my mum and you can guarantee I will spend the first few moments in my mum's flat tidying up, opening windows and trying to find somewhere to sit. 

This trip was no exception.

The nice addition to this trip was that I also spent a really lovely day at a barbeque at my sisters house. My sister has learning difficulties and lives in a shared house with other girls with similar disabilities. Her carer had invited mum and I to attend the barbeque they had planned in aid of the Royal Wedding. But they'd kept my visit as a surprise for my sis and so my arrival generated a huge smile on my sisters face. She came running in and gave me a hug. For anyone who doesn't know my sister, she's not a very affectionate person and so this was a nice surprise for me to have been received this way. 

We spent the day in the garden with fantastic food, even better company, lots of laughs and most surprisingly for Lancashire, the sun even made an appearance!

The next day was my girlie day with my oldest bestest friend. Who funnily enough (as I've just been talking about my sis) I consider more to be my sister than my friend. This is mainly because I've known her forever. We went to infant school together and instantly became best friends. I have fond memories of taking all of my barbies to her house in a bin bag and sitting in the boot of her mums huge car with her dog. She has fond memories of getting to pick children out of our class to accompany her when she visited me in hospital (she got to pick because she was my best friend). 

We spent the day having lunch out, then going on a 4 mile walk around the country roads by her house. We ended the evening by going to her (our) sisters house for dinner and a movie. It was a perfect evening filled with lots of singing, drinking and laughter.

If I'm honest (the backlash will start here), Sunday was the day I'd been most looking forward to as this was the day I was going to see my nephews, my big brother and my sister in law. I find it quite hard to describe my feelings towards my nephews as I hate children (as anyone who knows me will confirm) but I love those boys beyond compare. My young nephew, Riley, doesn't just make me smile. He makes my heart smile. The imagination on those boys puts me to shame, and I'm a writer!

"Aunty Kath" Riley says, and he always waits for me to say "Yes Riley?" then he'll continue to tell me something he did since he last saw me. "Aunty Kath" he says, then waits for me, "Yes Riley?" then he'll tell me how he got a battle scar falling off his scooter. "Aunty Kath" he says, always waiting to make sure he has my full attention. He always has my full attention. I'm pretty sure he always will. 

So Sunday rocked as not only did I get to spend the day with my loving and very supportive family, I also got to accompany my young nephew to his first showing of a 3D film. And not just any 3D film. I happened to be invited to watch the mighty Thor who my nephew loves! I asked him what he scored it out of 10. He thought for a moment "16!" he shouted excitedly. Then later "20 out of 10!" He said I could quote him on that so it went in my review.

My last day was marred by a 24 hour bug I'd somehow picked up but I refuse to let it dampen what was an otherwise fantastic weekend. I'd say that I wish every weekend could be like that, but then I'd have to admit defeat and move back to Lancashire and that's not going to happen. Sussex is my home now but there is a big piece of my heart that's shared amongst the family I left up north. I hope they're keeping it safe until I see them again.

I Hate Red

As my friends and family have received such a great response to their short stories that have been posted on my blog, I have been asked to post another short story written by a very good friend of mine. 

The story was written back in 2002 as an exercise for a writing course. In my humble opinion it turned out very well and I personally enjoyed reading it. 

I hope you do too!

I Hate Red

By Blair Holmes

Fiona hated the colour red, she always had. In her mind it was the worst colour imaginable, after all blood was red and that wasn't nice stuff.

"Why do I have to wear this?" She shouted from inside her bedroom.

"Don't argue with me, you know your grandparents like you in that dress. They bought you that for Christmas," snapped her mother.

Fiona sighed as she looked in the mirror. 'I hate red,' she muttered as she walked out of her room stamping her feet loudly against the floorboards.

Fiona's mother stood at the front door. "Ah, you look beautiful," she said as her daughter walked down the stairs.

No I don't, thought Fiona. All I need is a pair of Ruby slippers, then I'll look like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.

"Now remember, give your grandparents a kiss from me," said her mother as she handed Fiona a basket full of food and gifts.

"Yes mum," she whispered. She daren't mention her dress this close to her mother's right hook.

As she walked off along the path she glanced back and saw her mother waving at her. Fiona gave her mother a quick wave, and then continued on her journey towards the forest.

The sun was high in the sky, and there was a gentle breeze, which blew through her long brown hair. As she entered the forest she saw a huntsman standing in the long grass, his binoculars fixed to his eyes.

"Hello," Fiona called out.

The huntsman placed his finger to his lips, "Shh," he whispered.

"What are you hunting?" She asked softly.

"Bigfoot." Replied the huntsman.

Fiona almost burst out laughing, but instead she just smiled and continued along the path.

As Fiona walked along she began humming a tune from one of her favourite pop bands. She was so engrossed that she hadn't even noticed that something was following her. 

Suddenly it jumped out in front of her.

Fiona froze, as there, large as life, stood a wolf, it's huge eyes popping out of their sockets in delight of seeing this tasty snack.

"That's a nice tune," said the wolf, "What's your name, little one?"

"Fiona," she replied calmly, this was an enchanted forest after all, so she wasn't surprised that the wolf could speak.

Now, I should point out that this wasn't your bog standard wolf, the likes of which you see in 'Lassie' and say 'Ah, how cute.' This was a giant among wolves, apart from being able to speak, which you may think quite odd, it was also well over six feet tall. It's teeth sharp and threatening. And this particular wolf was very skinny, and looked terribly, terribly hungry.

It could have easily gobbled up Fiona there and then. But instead it continued to speak.

"Where would you be going on such a nice day?" asked the wolf?

What a stupid wolf, thought Fiona, why doesn't it just shut up and eat me?

"I'm going to my grandparents cottage, on the other side of the forest. And I have brought some food and some gifts for them too."

The wolf sniffed the basked of goodies.

"Smells good," it said, "well, I would love to stay and chat, but I seem to have pressing and tasy business elsewhere."

And without saying another word, the wolf strutted off through the long grass.

The clearing, in which Fiona's grandparents cottage stood, was quiet and picturesque. There was a pond on one side, and a small wooden fence surrounding the cottage. Smoke gently puffed out of the chimney, and the smell of a Sunday roast filled the air.

That's odd, grandpa is usually asleep on that deck chair right about now, thought Fiona as she walked up to the cottage.

She knocked on the door. There was no answer.

She knocked again, but this time she heard a faint voice calling out.

"Come in, come in," it said.

Great, too lazy to open their door, she thought as she rummaged for the key.

"Ah, there it is," muttered Fiona as she unlocked the door and let herself in.

"Grandma? Grandpa?" She called out.

"In here," said a croaky voice which was coming from the bedroom.

Fiona walked in, and stared at grandma lying in her bed.

"Where's grandpa?" She asked.

"He's popped out," replied grandma, her voice sounding even croakier than before.

Fiona looked her grandma up and down. Her feet were sticking out of the end of the bed.

"My, you do have big feet grandma," said Fiona who couldn't remember ever seeing her grandma's feet before.

"All the better for walking," replied grandma, "now, what have you brought in your basket?"

Fiona walked around the bed and placed the basket of goodies on the bedside table. Then she looked round at her grandma , and almost jumped back in shock.

She looked a lot worse that normal, and she definitely needed a shave.  I'm not kissing that, she thought remembering what her mother had said.

"My, what big eyes you've got," said Fiona, noticing grandma's eyes bulging in their sockets.

"All the better to see you with," replied grandma.

"My, what big teeth you've got," said Fiona, taking a step back.

"All the better for eating you with,"

Fiona gasped as she recognised the voice of the wolf she'd met earlier.

Suddenly, before Fiona had a chance to move, the wolf leapt out of the bed and gobbled her up in one loud gulp.

Meanwhile, in another part of the forest, the huntsman was still searching for Bigfoot. Quietly he crept along, staying in the shadows of the trees, unheard, unseen. The wind ruffled his short dark hair. His ears seemed to twitch with every sound of the forest.

There, something moved, he thought as he quickly ducked down in the long grass.

He looked through his binoculars then quickly dropped them in surprise. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, and again looked through his binoculars, just to make sure he hadn't dreamt it.

That's odd, why would a wolf be wearing a nightgown? And such and ugly one too?

Silently he followed, curious of where the strange looking wolf was gong. The wolf was extraordinarily fat and rather slow, so it was easy for the huntsman to keep up.

The sun was quite low in the sky as he continued to follow the wolf out of the forest.

This would make a splendid trophy, thought the huntsman, imagining what the villagers would say when he brought home a wolf that size.

Suddenly he realised that the wolf was out of sight, oh no, where's it gone, he thought. He looked left and right, up and down, but it was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh great, I've lost another hunt," muttered the huntsman.

"May I ask what you were hunting?" Asked a voice from behind him.

The huntsman almost jumped out of his skin. He turned around and there stood the wolf. The same wolf he'd been following.

"I, I was hunting you." Said the huntsman with a tremble in his voice.

The wolf laughed.

"You? Such a little man? Hunting Me?" Asked the wolf in mockery. "I'm over twice the size of you! My claws alone are the size of your whole hand! It is me who should be hunting you! In fact, I think I will, I was looking for a dessert." Suddenly the wolf bared all it's teeth, and leapt forward, towards the huntsman.

Quickly, the huntsman jumped out of the way, but he was a fraction too slow. The wolf's claw scrapping against his shoulder.

"Ahhh," he screamed, feeling a cold pain run down his arm.

He glanced around and lifted his rifle with his good arm.

The wolf ran towards him. He fired a shot which slowed the wolf down but didn't stop him. The wolf continued to charge. The huntsman reloaded his gun and fired again. This time the wolf stumbled and then collapsed on top of the huntsman.

He could smell it's last breath as he crawled out from underneath it. Exhaused, he lay down beside the wolf, resting his head against the beast's chest.

Startled, he looked up. He could swear that he heard voices coming from inside the wolf. 

Must be hearing things, he thought as he rested his head back against the beast's chest. But again he could hear voices. 

This time he got out his hunting knife, and carefully opened up the dead creature.

The huntsman couldn't believe his eyes as there in front of him stood Fiona, her grandma and her grandpa, all covered completely in a mixture of blood and red berries, which the wolf had eaten earlier that day.

"I HATE RED," screamed Fiona at the top of her voice. 

And never again, did her grandparents buy her anything that was the colour red. 

Trust Me

What a treat I have for you today! Another guest blog and yep, you guessed it, another short story. This one however, has impressed me the most of all the stories so far, and not just because it was written by my very talented brother. Yes, you heard it hear first, writing runs in the family! 

My brother tells me that the inspiration for this story came when he was reading an article in which Shia LaBeouf was commenting about how he was avoiding entering that "De Niro" stage in his career, whereby he was only picking 'safe' roles. My brother thought "what's his problem?" and imagined a scenario where the two actors would square up against each other. The result is 'Trust Me'.

Trust Me 

by Michael Lambert

“Thank you all for coming, some of you, voluntarily, others...less so,” said Doctor Robert as he quickly scanned the room. This group therapy session had patients with a variety of delusions and treatment in its various stages. There were those who were brought in dosed-up to the eyeballs and others who were still, in a way, feeling around their psychoses. Doctor Robert had been working with this group for the last nine weeks and was just getting the hang of what their problems were. Then Greg walked in.

“Increase the dosage to 50 cc’s” he said to the nurse as he entered the room in jeans and a checked shirt. He was going to the be the toughest “nut” to crack. Pardon the pun. He was someone who suffered from perhaps the most dangerous of all delusions. The delusion that he was a Doctor. Doctor Robert observed shrewdly as Greg walked casually into the room, no notes, no white coat, his pretense of authority in his youthful gait and manner being all the more tragic knowing his past, knowing what drove him to such a delusion. Doctor Robert merely sat there and shook his head before starting the session.

“Good afternoon, Greg,” began Doctor Robert. “Thank you for coming.”

“That’s Doctor Greg, Robert,” Greg retorted whilst rolling his shirt sleeves up.

“Greg,” began Doctor Robert.

“I SAID IT’S DOCTOR GREG!” replied Greg angrily. “I didn’t attend 3 years of medical school to be referred to as Mister.”

“Yes, I’ve seen Austin Powers too, Greg,” Doctor Robert responded calmly “And it’s 4 years not 3.”

“Yeah, like you’d know,” Greg replied. Over the weeks their therapy sessions had become more fraught as Greg had learned ever more about Doctor Robert’s method and was trying to use them to turn the tables on him. Outside the hospital he’d been a successful young man, but when the downturn hit he lost everything, his job, his fiance, his home, hell they even repossessed his car. Coping with such a huge loss of self-esteem his psyche had tried to create a new identity to cling onto and this was it. Doctor Robert had seen it all before, many times, and shaking Greg from his delusion was perhaps going to be the biggest challenge he’d faced in a while. But he’d not been beaten yet. 

“I would know. I am a Doctor,” said Greg, staring defiantly into Doctor Robert’s warm gaze. He had some steel behind his eyes but almost all delusional’s had what they thought was rock solid walls around their fake persona.

“How long have you been working here, Greg?” Doctor Robert asked, calmly folding his arms as he sat back in certainty in his chair.

“How...how long?” Greg stammered. Doctor Robert nodded. “Two years.”

“Two years?” asked Doctor Robert.

“Y...yes,” Greg answered, flicking calculations through his head. “No wait it’s just a year.”

“Just a year? You don’t sound so sure,” questioned Doctor Robert.

“Yeah, it’s a year, I got confused cause I’m just entering my second year.”

“So with college and university that would make you...?” continued Doctor Robert. Greg stared intently at Doctor Robert while working the numbers and gulping hard.

“It’s 32, Greg,” Doctor Robert said, flatly. “That would make you 32.”

“Yeah, that’s right I’m 32.” Greg continued.

“You’re 32?” asked Doctor Robert. 

“I’m 32,” said Greg, flicking a hand through his sandy brown hair. “I have boyish good looks.”

“Really?” replied Doctor Robert. “Let me explain something to you, Greg. Doctors in the real world don’t look like they stepped off the set of Grey’s Anatomy. They look like saggy faced old crotches, like me. Not little boys who look like they belong more on a Wall Street trading floor.”

“Really?” asked Greg, folding his arms. 

“Yeah,” replied Doctor Robert. “You’re suffering from an acute personality disorder, but I can help you, Greg. If you let me.”

“You can help me?” Greg began. “I don’t think so, Robert. I’m not the one with the problem here.”

The two men stared at each other arms folded, mirroring each other like an old married couple. Doctor Robert pitied Greg, but he couldn’t let that stop him from reforming his severed ties with reality. The rest of the group just watched, most of them transfixed by Doctor Robert’s mental assassination of Greg, and the rest too medicated to care. Greg rolled his sleeves up, pursed his lips and began to speak.

“For me, Robert, it was 3 years in medical school,” began Greg. Doctor Robert raised his eyebrows quizzically, drawing even more lines on his ever aging face. “Yeah, it was. I was a prodigy, Robert. I finished school 2 years early and only spent 3 at med school.”

“You really expect me to believe that, Greg?” asked Doctor Robert.

“No, but you know what? What you think is irrelevant,” continued Greg. “Reality is sometimes everything but what it should be. Sometimes it's different, and I’ve suffered because of it my whole life, but I’m not gonna left that stop me from doing my job and helping you, Robert.”

“I think you have that in reverse, Greg,” said Doctor Robert.

“No I don’t. You forget I know you, Robert. I know what really happened to you,” Greg said, almost whispering. As he leant forward, his elbows on his thighs, as he did he noticed the tiniest of twitches in Doctor Robert’s face. Greg knew that he had to plough on. 

“This is our ninth session now” said Greg, “and I’ve come to know you very well in that time. And I’d be lying if I didn’t...”

The door opened and Nurse Janice Selas placed a cup of coffee on the book case, as she did for him every session.

“Here’s your coffee, Doctor,” she said without looking at the group.

“THANK YOU. NURSE!” shouted both Greg and Doctor Robert. The sympathy they had for each other evaporated as their professional manner changed to pure rage.

“I’ll...put it in the 'Observation Room' for you,” replied Janice as she took the cup back outside. Doctor Robert and Greg glared at each other arms folded.

“Like I was saying, I’d be lying if I said I was going to give up on trying to get you cured,” Greg concluded, unable to disguise the hostility in his stare.

“You know, Greg, you’re not going to get anywhere by continuing with this charade,” Doctor Robert continued. This little upstart was attempting to burrow inside his head, cause doubt, chip away at his confidence but it wasn’t going to work. He’d been here too many times to fail now.

“This is no charade, Robert. This is real. You’ve been sent to this unit because you were caught out impersonating a Doctor.” Greg said, diverting his words back onto a gentler track.

“Greg. It’s you that was caught in a hospital pretending to be a Doctor,” replied Doctor Robert. Greg leant back in his chair shaking his head in anguish. “Greg, you nearly killed somebody.”

“No I didn’t, Robert. This is my job, this is what I do, for a living,” Greg countered. He was good. Doctor Robert had to give him that. And the delusion was so firmly set it would take bringing out his full medicinal knowledge to drag Greg back to reality.

“Wolfsbane...Medical uses?” asked Doctor Robert, arms so firmly crossed he was almost cutting off the circulation to his fingers.

“Well, it’s been a while since I had such basic medical knowledge tested but I’ll take that,” replied Greg with a rye smile. “It has been used in Western medicine but now is usually only found in Asian and Chinese medicine. Safer alternatives have since been found to a highly toxic compound, old man.” 

The words old man were like sandpaper rubbing against Doctor Robert’s ego.

“Still know the ABC of respiratory system, old timer?” asked Greg, mockingly. Doctor Robert felt his heart rate quicken as Greg did everything he could to antagonize him, drive a wedge into his sanity, but he had to remain calm. He had to hold firm.

“Yes, Greg,” Doctor Robert replied calmly. “Even a psychologist like myself knows of the airways, breathing, circulation triumvirate of resuscitation. Speaking of which, if I am the poor deluded mental patient, you claim I am, what would you use to cure me?”

“Ah, well, that’s a good question,” began Greg, who suddenly came to life, sitting straight-backed in his chair. “I would recommend a three-pronged course of attack to break your delusions, firstly therapy sessions, like this one.”

“Very good,” interjected Doctor Robert,

“Thank you, but you’re not gonna distract me,” countered Greg.

“I wasn’t trying...” began Doctor Robert.

“Yeah, whetever,” Greg came back. “I’d then move on to electro-convulsive therapy.”

“It makes it sound nicer avoiding the word “Shock” and adding the word “Therapy” doesn’t it, Greg?” asked Doctor Robert.

“It doesn’t really hurt the patients,” replied Greg.

“And you would know, how?” asked Doctor Robert.

“I’ve sen the treatment,” Greg responded, coldly. “I can tell. The last course of action to bring you out of your deluded state is medication.”

“What kind, Greg?” continued Doctor Robert. “What specific drugs?”

“What specific drugs?” asked Greg. For the first time during their discussion he actually looked nervous. “Erm, well, I er...” 

Greg stopped, looked at the rest of the group while his mind wandered before sighing and looking at the floor, resigned.

“I don’t know,” said Greg.

“I don’t know,” repeated Doctor Robert, the contempt almost showing in his voice. “You don’t know, do you, Greg?”

Greg shook his head, his masquerade in tatters.

“You nearly killed someone, Greg,” continued Doctor Robert. “You’re pretending to be a Doctor nearly killed a poor girl in surgery, Greg. You have to face that. You have to accept it.”

“No, I, no. It wasn’t me,” said Greg, shaking his head as if trying to shake away the doubts that were now circling around his psyche.

“If you face it I can help you, I can...” began Doctor Robert before a sudden movement in the room shifted his attention. A patient who had sat there, silent, for the entire exchange suddenly strode up out of his chair and headed for the 'observation room'. 

“Where are you going, Mr Connors?” asked Doctor Robert as the patient impassively continued towards the door. “KURT, GET BACK HERE!” Doctor Robert shouted, but Kurt continued through to the 'observation room' to see Nurse Selas standing there, still holding the coffee that she had brought in for the Doctor.

“Ah, thank you, Nurse,” said Doctor Connors, taking the coffee off her, shaking his head. “You know it’s hard to believe that these poor bastards are so desperately deluded to think they’re Doctors.”

“Don’t you think you’d better get back in there, 'Doctor'?” she asked just before he took a sip.

Doctor Connors took a look back in at the group through the two way observation mirror and nodded in agreement as 'Doctor' Robert, continued to shout in for Kurt to return.

“Yes, yes I suppose you’re right,” he replied as he placed the cup back in her hands. “Just keep hold of that for me, will you, while I go back in to observe?”

Kurt headed back in and retook his seat, the defeated pose he'd held before he left the group had gone and a more confident pose had appeared in its place.

“Thank you again for rejoining us, Kurt,” said Doctor Robert. 

Nurse Selas left the small broom cupboard sized room that masqueraded itself as the 'observation room' and walked into the real thing, where Doctor Paul Allen and his students watched the convoluted exchange in the amazing group therapy session.

“Your coffee, Paul,” she said handing him the cup.

“Thanks, Janice,” he replied his eyes, along with everyone of his students transfixed on the level of personality disorder going on in the room. 

“I don’t why you have two observation rooms here, Doctor,” said Janice angrily.

“Well, we had to have this room built so the students can see in,” explained Doctor Paul. “Now this room is finished we can get the first room demolished, it was too small anyway.”

“Hmph!” Janice retorted before leaving, this time via the door behind the students. In the therapy room the debate continued to wage over who was in charge. 'Doctor' Kurt was now arguing with 'Doctor' Robert. 

“There you have it ladies and gentlemen. The true fallout of the credit crunch.”

“So all of those patients think that they’re Doctors?” asked one of the students.

“Yep,” countered Paul, making a mental note of where the discussions were leading while also conversing with his students. Later on he would listen back to the sessions as they were all taped and have one-to-one sessions with each of the patients, but these group sessions allowed him to witness first-hand the length and depth of each patient’s delusional state.

“And they all used to be bankers?” asked another student.

“Precisely,” replied Paul. 

“What caused this?” Asked the first student. Somewhere inside his own psyche Doctor Paul flicked the switch that he always had at the ready from Doctor to human being and revealed what were, at this stage, only theories. But they were all he had.

“Most of these people here are people who weren’t directly responsible, but who lost their jobs when the shit came down,” Began Doctor Paul. “Doctor” Robert was a bank manager for 24 years, “Doctor” Greg was a trader in the bear-pit on wall street, “Doctor” Connors was a risk assessor for Guild Sternum, the rest were derivatives traders, mortgage brokers, clerks, tellers and pretty much everything else to do with money that you can think of. We don’t precisely know what triggers them to think they’re Doctors. We believe that, with all of them, they each feel a sense of personal responsibility for the crash. They want to fix things, to make things better. But they’re powerless to do so. Some of the people in there have lost everything. And so in their psyche they identify with the one group of people who can make things better, that can fix things...Doctors. They identify with us so much that eventually it becomes a fixation, a compulsion and, as you can see, eventually a personality disorder.”

“How are you treating them, Doctor?” 

“A combination of medication, electro-convulsive therapy and one-to-one sessions to try and break the spell. I use these sessions to see how those therapies are working but today’s session was also to show how far we still have to go.”

The students watched as a second argument heated up between Robert and Kurt over who was more qualified to chair the session. Paul shook his head. Placing his cup down he hit an intercom switch which beeped impersonally.

“Yeah,” came back a deep male voice.

“Steve, can you get the patients jacketed up? It’s time for the electric shock treatment,” said Doctor Paul.

“Sure thing,” replied Steve. Seconds later, Steve and a whole host of beefed-up nursing staff entered the room advising the patients that it was time for the electro convulsive therapy. Greg began to rock back and forth and laugh. 'Doctor' Robert’s face became ashen.

“Greg, tell them I’m a Doctor, Greg,” began 'Doctor' Robert as he backed away from the nurses in fear.

“It doesn’t even hurt,” whispered Greg.

“Tell them I’m a Doctor, Greg!” continued 'Doctor' Robert, his tone more frantic now as the two nurses managed to get hold of his arms.

“It doesn’t even hurt,” chuckled Greg as the nurses got his strait Jacket on with little trouble.

“TELL THEM I’M A DOCTOR, GREG!” screamed 'Doctor' Robert, as he fought the nurses with the strength of a demon.

“It doesn’t even hurt,” laughed Greg, as they led him effortlessly out.

The end.

Michael also tells me there are clues in the story as to other actors he imagined playing both the third fake Doctor and the real Doctor. Did you spot them?