Quacks (2017–…): Season 1, Episode 5 - The Bishops Appendix - full transcript

Spirits, if you be there,
make yourselves known unto us.

We particularly hope to make contact
with Elizabeth Sutton.

Are you there, Elizabeth?

She was known as Beth.

Beth Sutton, are you there?

There is one here your husband
John yearns to speak with you.

Please come speak with us if you...
SHE GASPS

I felt a touch upon me.
Anyone else feel that?

I saw a face in the dark
for a moment.

A kind face. The kind face of a
beautiful young woman.

Was your wife beautiful?



She was, yes.

With black hair? A beautiful young
woman with black hair? Brown.

Dark. Dark brown.

Yes. It's her I see.

I feel she's here with us
in the room now.

Please, Beth, if it is you,
make yourself known.

Is that you, Beth?

Ow! You just kicked me! What?
Under the table.

No, no, no. It must have been
the spirit of Beth.

Perhaps she doesn't like you
interrupting. Was that you, Beth?

Did you kick one of us under
the table? Make yourself known.

Is it her?

'Tis I, John.
I miss you so.

I miss you so.



Is she happy? Is she in pain?

I feel no pain,
but the pain of missing you.

Tell her I didn't mean to kill her.

I live with that every day.

This is ridiculous!

Come on. We should go.
This woman can't talk to dead people

any more than I can make decent
meringues. Come on.

Sorry about her.

I know it's probably bogus, but...
Probably? Part of me enjoys it.

I like believing I might be able to
talk to Beth again.

John, perhaps it's time you
moved your feelings on from Beth.

It has been four years.

I know, but I don't want to.

Don't you have feelings for Nicola,

who works in the apothecary
with her father?

My main feeling about her is that
her father rips me off.

Well, you often mention Miss Bell...
after her father's ripped you off.

In fact, last week
in the public house,

you said you bet she had
a muff like a silk purse.

Come on,
you shouldn't visit that pub.

It's full of unsavoury people
who are not appropriate company.

Come.

Dear William. Miss Mina.

I have you brought you some flowers
and a box of cream buttons.

Thank you.

I sincerely hope that your stone
is now smashed

and that your gentleman's part
is not damaged.

I have been so worried about you.

Perhaps you will soon be up
and we can visit a funfair again,

like we did when we were young
and in love.

Mina, it is very kind of you to
visit and bring me

cream buttons, but I think you
should know that although I am

pleased to see you, it has been 20
years since we last knew each other

and my feelings for your do not go
beyond...friendship.

Don't you respect me?

Of course I do!

Friendship and respect!

Isn't that a wonderful place
from which to build a marriage?

What happened?

The bishop was delivering a sermon
on the importance of abstinence

when he collapsed with
abdominal pain.

Does this hurt?
HE MOANS

Your Grace, this is appendicitis.
I must operate at once.

It is simply wind!
I will not be touched by surgeons!

Why not?

Five of my family have died
under the knife!

None of them had surgery by me.

You know as well as I that most
patients who have an appendicectomy

do not survive it.

Your Grace, you're right.

The surgery is in its infancy and
it's dangerous. For most surgeons.

But with me, it's 50/50.

But everybody who leaves
an inflamed appendix dies

when it bursts inside them.

I will no allow it. It is farts!

Your Grace, I understand your fears
of surgery, but I can use drugs...

No drugs! I will not allow them
near my lips!

Drugs are Satan's decoy!

The bishop must have this
surgery or he will die.

Don't tell me, tell him!

If he dies, he'll stop paying
for the nurses at this hospital.

You're paid. I always forget that.

And the hospital will close.

Well, you heard the man,
the bishop's an idiot!

Well, you'll think of something.

You're London's finest surgeon,
are you not?

How long have you been treating
Brewer with your moral therapies?

Six months. And in that time have
you noticed any discernible

improvement in his condition?

Hidden in the tone of my question is
a clue as to my view on the subject.

I have great hope for him yet.

Last week, he knitted me
a bobble hat.

In July?

He's looking ahead.

And yesterday,
I hear you again insisted on taking

some of the patients
painting in the park.

I think it's important that they
have the opportunity to

express themselves outside
the confines of their cell.

One of them expressed himself

by defecating in front of the
Salvation Army band.

Not all these therapeutic approaches
work, I grant you, Doctor,

but I passionately believe that

if we can guide our lunatics towards
useful labour and crafts...

But you've been treating Brewer
that way for six months

and he still head-butts the wall
and shits on the lawn!

You have made no diagnosis!
You have no cure!

Dr Hendrick is threatening to
turn this wing of the hospital

over to some new...function

and, meanwhile, I hear you're
planning a nutter's production

of the Knights Of The Round Table!

I take it you don't want a ticket,
then?

Hendrick wants to turn
the asylum into a wine-cellar

and cheese store
for the Royal Society of Physicians.

That's quite a good idea.

I need some successes, or the whole
asylum is in threat!

Why don't you fake some results?

That's an outrageous idea!

Is it? You must have done it.

No, but only because it's hard to
fake results in surgery.

If I claim to have successfully
removed someone's leg, it is

easily disproved if the leg is still
attached to the body.

But he's looking for someone
who's mad

and seen to be cured by one of his
treatments.

I'm not doing this!
It's a disgraceful suggestion!

Go on. Hmm.

Well, it's hard to fake a leg
break or a tumour,

but relatively easy to fake madness,
is it not?

Yes, I mean, you just need
someone to go like this...

..and then you treat them
with your...

whatever it is you do,
and then they stop going...

..and then you'd have cured them.

What you're suggesting is
completely wrong.

W-Who would I even get to pretend to
be mad for a day or so?

Hello, doctors.

Got any new disgusting medical
stories I'd enjoy?

Any tumours that could talk?
Mr Hubble,

do you know anyone who could
convincingly pretend to be

mad for a couple of days?

And I'd pay them ?2.

Do you know the Bishop of Lambeth?

The Bish? The big Bish-Bash?

He owns all the mop-houses
in Covent Garden.

He's a good chap, ain't he?

By good chap you mean a mad,
fat pig, then yes.

He needs an appendicectomy, and I've
got to do it without him noticing.

Precisely.

When he's next in one of his
mop-houses,

will you help me drug him?

You're more and more persuaded
to use drugs?

When the circumstances are right.

For instance, you've got a mad,
rich bishop

who thinks
he can fart out his appendix.

Good day, Fitz.

This is a new patient I'd like to
have admitted, please.

What's his madness?

What a stupid question,
you pudding-faced turd!

I hate you!

He has a violent,
uncontrollable rage.

Name? Isn't it obvious what my name
is, you hairy idiot?

Look at your stupid hat!

Yes, it's Paul. Paul Hubble.

There you are, Mr Clarkson.
That's for your glandular swelling.

Right. And that's for your face
sore. Thank you.

Mr Sutton!
What can we furnish you with today?

How was Father's last poultice?

Terrific. I distilled the morphine
out of it, drank it

and now I can't remember
the last three days.

It was intended to be rubbed
on inflammations,

not distilled and drunk.
Was it? Oh. Silly me.

Any interesting new herbs,
tinctures or boogies in?

Father's made a new nostrum
to cure impure blood.

Got all sorts of gubbins in it,
he said.

Um, well, let me have a
little of that, then, please.

And since I'm here, I could use
another three bottle of laudanum.

Large. Very well.

And here's the new nostrum.

Mr Bell's Blood Mixture.

Permanent cure for all blood
diseases, plus increased vitality.

You tried it yourself?

You know I'm not permitted to try
the store's products!

Would you like to try some, with me,
this afternoon?

Perhaps after a walk in the park?

Father will say no.

So let's not ask him.

What do you want now, you massive
bawbag? Tuck your shirt in!

HE MOUTHS

As you can see,
he has uncontrollable abstract rages

that make him a danger to himself
and others.

I suspect it was
brought on by the solitary vice.

I'm confident that if I can spend
a little time with him

doing calming activities,
I may be able to divert this

irrational anger towards
something more purposeful.

Wouldn't his anger be just as easily
diverted by a cold bath?

Or bleed him?

I don't want to bleed him.

Bleeding always calms 'em. Yes.

We could bleed him.

Well done, Fitz.

I think this man can be encouraged
back to gentleness.

Let me prove to you that my methods
here can bring results.

Very well. Till Friday,
at three o'clock.

If he's still shouty and silly, then
we'll progress to the cold bath

and the rotating chair.

By all means.

Darling, I need to talk to you
about this book.

Which book?

Leave us for a moment, please.

The Lustful Turk.

It's about an Englishwoman and what
she gets up to on her holiday.

I have never read such a degrading
torrent of uncontrolled passions.

Oh.

Page after page after page
after page after...

page of it! One of the maids
caught me reading it.

I was so ashamed to think that my
wife might be thought to be

reading such material,
I had to pretend it was my book!

Does Polly now think you have a
taste for stories about Turkish men?

Turkish men performing...
unspeakable acts in a tent!

You didn't like that bit?
Despite my endless entreaties,

you continue to embarrass me
with your behaviour.

Reading such material in public!

Persisting in attending
anatomy classes.

Yes. I intend to become a doctor.

But that is never going to happen,
so give it up!

You loved me for my ambition once.

That wasn't medical ambition then,
was it? It was just...

general enthusiasm
for different things.

Oh... All I need you to do is run
this household properly.

That's all.
Like a million other normal women.

Yes, but I don't want to do that!
I hate this house!

And I hate being stuck in here
with all these things!

Don't turn this into
a Greek wedding!

I will! Ah!

Not Mother's Royal Wedding milk jug!

Miss Bell. You look...beautiful.

Thank you, Mr Sutton.

John, please.
What would you care to do today?

Would you like to visit
the boating lake?

Or perhaps play
a game of croquet in the park?

Yes, we could,

or there's some bare-knuckle boxing
round the corner.

Get off the floor!

Hit him!

Yes! Yes!

Stand up! Get up!

When my father died, I sold his shop
in Banstead

and used the money to train as a
dentist, and have a year in Italy.

Oh, I'd love to go to Italy
sometime!

I'll never take you.
It's an appalling place.

Is it? Where were you?

Florence, which is a shithole.
Dark, nasty, smelly, corrupt...

Not bad food, though.

What's this, then, Senor?

This is spaghetti.
It's made of wheat.

I've put lard with it and...

..cheese on top.

It's yellow.

I serve it with red wine, gin, beer,
hashish, and a tomato salad.

Fancy.

Buon appetito.

What you looking at, mister?

I'm looking at you, miss.

Oh! Let's have some coca leaves
and ether!

I think I might be in real trouble
with you, Miss Bell.

Will your father not be
missing you today?

We could send him a message,

saying I'm staying with
Mother in Derbyshire.

Will you take me to Italy one day?

I would love to do that.

And we could break into the Coliseum
at night

and have sex on the sand
in the arena.

Well, hurry up and do it soon.

I'm going to end up having to marry
that Lord Thornycroft.

Sorry?

She's kind, thoughtful, amusing...
unbelievable in the sack.

I may be in love...
for the first time in years.

That's wonderful, John.

If you do have real
feelings for her,

might I suggest you resist writing
her one of your poems?

She's got such passion.
We spent the whole day in bed.

I can barely walk!

I'm going to stop visiting
prostitutes now I've met her.

High praise indeed. Now it's only
you who hasn't found a woman.

Can we meet her?

Of course not. I really like her.

The only problem is, her father
wants her to marry Lord Thornycroft.

Who's Lord Thornycroft?

Some fat old lord.
Nicola has no feelings for him.

Now she's met me,

I'm sure she'll persuade her father
to change his mind. Won't she?

I'm sure she will.

No-one wants to be in an unhappy
marriage, do they?

Does Nicola know about Beth?

Not yet.

Does she know
about your prostitute habit?

I will tell her...
when the time's right.

About Beth, not the whores.

I did all I could for Beth.

We know. She was terribly ill, John.

I gave her the overdose.

You were trying to cure her.

I'm not going to have a second woman
I love taken away from me.

Nicola loves me,
and I love her. We'll run away to...

Wales together if we have to.

I'm sure it won't come to that!

Mother! I came as quickly as
I could. How is he?

He has recovered. What happened?

Dr Alexander said he went
suddenly berserk.

He attacked one of the nurses, had
her hanging out of the window,

then he tried to flush himself down
his own toilet.

He'd never been violent like this
before!

Can we see him? Yes.

He's sleeping now.

He seems so peaceful.

But this is a worrying development,
is it not,

if he's moving from lunacy
to dementia? Yes.

They tell me our payments
are in arrears?

Yes, I'm afraid so.

It's been costing tens and tens of
pounds to keep him here.

We've run out of money.

Well, then, we must sell some land.

The lower fields, down to the river,
and both sides of the valley.

My dear, we haven't told this, but
that land was all sold long ago.

When your father was first ill,
he was tricked

by a man posing as a Tory MP
into making an investment

into a banana plantation that turned
out not to exist.

In fact, it transpires
San Trinibados

isn't even a real Caribbean island!

No! Also, he spent...

..?1,000 on a mid-period Rubens
painting that turned out to be fake.

Mother!
Why had you not told me this?

We were too ashamed.

He wasn't himself, and I never
understood paintings...

or bananas.

But we can't have
Father in a public asylum.

He would not survive it.

Don't worry for now.

Miss Mina has agreed
to clear our current debts.

Miss Mina, you are here.

Dear William. Your mother told me
of your current situation.

I came at once.

I have been delighted to pay
the monies that are in arrears,

and for next month's care.
Oh, the dear woman!

That is most kind of you.

If you are visited
with your father long enough,

perhaps you'd care to join me
for tea?

Ooh, we'd be delighted to!
I was talking only to William. Oh.

I'd love to but, sadly,
I must return urgently to London,

where a patient of mine
is due for assessment.

Some other time, then.

There's an exhibition of medieval
encaustic ceramics in Cirencester

that I'd love to visit.

I'd love to do that, too. Oh!

Sorry to disturb!
Ah, you must be Miss Bell.

Afternoon.
Lovely to meet you. Heard so much.

I've just been told that the Bishop
of Lambeth is at your brothel.

Not YOUR brothel -
the one you visit.

You don't visit it, I do.
I don't visit it.

But...I've heard of this
one in Covent Garden.

The bishop is there now,
so I thought if we went together,

we could slip some
drugs into his wine

and then I could perform
the operation he doesn't want.

You want to drug
a bishop against his will?

I'd use an opiate.

He won't taste it in wine, and it'll
knock him out nice and proper.

Nicola works at the apothecary.

Of course.
What a lovely couple you make.

In fact, I'll need a nurse, Miss
Bell, if you fancy coming along?

Yes! Pop your clothes on!

I'm here to see the Bishop of
Lambeth on urgent medical business.

Where is he? Upstairs.

Oh! Oh! Oh!

A rising trot! A rising trot!

The very picture of ecclesiastic
dignity and grace.

Ride!

Ooh. He is big and fat, isn't he?

Fly! Fly!

Good. Now, Miss Bell, would you go
and give the bishop his wine,

on the house? He'll assume
you work here.

Do I look like a prostitute to you?
Yes.

So, go.

Oh! Oh.

Oh. Oh, thank you, my angel!

We're going to need some water
and several towels, please.

Hello, John, love. Nice to see you.
You in for a session?

No. I've never been here before.

You must be mistaking me
for someone else.

Oh, yes, of course.

Someone else who looks like you -
a cousin perhaps.

Yes, my naughty cousin.
Do you know these women?

No. Which ones? I'll keep him asleep
with chloroform.

Going to make an incision now.

I need you to soak up the blood
as best possible.

Oh!

Ohhhh...

Oh, you bloody fat man!

Ugh! Pull his fat back. That's it.

That's it, go on. Don't be shy.
Get your hands in.

Pull it back.

He's asleep. You don't need to rush.

Oh, hello, John, love.

Are you in for one of your all-night
foursomes later?

I'm sure Gwen and the twins will
be in this afternoon.

It's true that I have visited this
place occasionally,

but I'm giving up all these
prostitutes now that I've met you.

It's true, he is.
He can't stop talking about you.

Ugh, that is his small intestine.

I'm going to feel round the bowel.

The appendix! Ah! Silks, please.

Thank you, Miss Bell.

We tie around his nose...

and we tie around his toes.

Ready for the snipping.

Thank you.

There!

Ahhh... There's the dirty devil!

Time to sew up the beast.

Once you've finished that, I've got
some socks that need darning.

No! No! No!
It's for your own good!

Get off! You don't understand!
The doctor asked me to be mad!

This is all an act!

He's more insane than
I originally realised.

Put him in the cold water!

Sorry I'm late!

He's the person responsible!

He's paying me to pretend to be mad!

Tell him!

He is completely mad.

He's lying!

No, I'm not. Put him in the cold
water. No!

Finally, some sense! No!

Shall I get the rotating chair, sir?

Oh, yes. Yes, please.

William, I'm heading
back across town

if you'd like to share a carriage?

How are you?

Strange day.

My mother is trying to make me
marry Miss Mina Hickley.

Miss Hickley?
Do you want to marry her?

No.

Oh, my dear William. Poor you.

Let me kiss you, too.

We mustn't.

Oh, William! Oh!

My dear Caroline!

Kiss it more!

We must control our passions
or we will all be ruined.

Oh, there you are.
I'm nearly finished.

Come and help me attach the
foresail.

I'm going to bed.

You're closing early.

John, love.
I wasn't expecting you this evening.

You're all dressed up.

I came to see
if you fancied a night in.

Get your bonnet off!
John, love, sorry. I can't tonight.

I was going to come
and tell you tomorrow,

I'm marrying Lord Thornycroft.

No.

He proposed this morning
at breakfast, in front of Father,

and I said yes.

Don't marry someone who
doesn't love you.

No, it's the other way around.

He does love me. I don't love him.

Don't marry someone you don't love.
I'm writing you a poem.

Bet you this lord won't
write you a poem.

No, thankfully!

So what's he offer you, then?
What's he got? Two houses?

Four. Four. Four. Where, London?

Hampshire? Yorkshire.

And a villa overlooking
Frattamaggiore, just outside Naples!

Italy's awful. I told you.

And I'll never have to work again.
I can move out the apothecary.

You like your job,
and you're good at it.

And running those big houses,
with all that staff,

that can be...testing.

I know. These past few days have
been such fun,

but this is the right
decision for me.

Take care, John Sutton.