[Interior of standard examining room of a doctor’s office. Hugh Grant is sitting alone on the examination table awaiting the doctor’s entry. Grant adorably reads a pamphlet on dietary tips for expectant mothers with a look of mock confusion on his face]
[The door opens, and the doctor enters the room. He holds a medical chart and extends a handshake to Hugh Grant]
Doctor: Hello, Mr. Grant. How are we doing today?
Hugh Grant: Ah, very well, thank you. Just reading some important literature here on how to keep my baby healthy during its gestational period. It’s quite fascinating stuff, really.
Doctor: Right. That’s very funny. So, you’re here for a physical today?
Hugh Grant: Yes, quite right. About to start work on a new film. Insurance purposes. You understand.
Doctor: Sure, no problem. We’ll get you checked out and on your way. You look pretty healthy to me.
Hugh Grant: Oh, I’ll wager you say that to all the handsome young actors that come in your office.
Doctor: Very humorous. Okay, let me take a listen to your heartbeat. Breathe in and out slowly for me, please.
Hugh Grant: Oh, dear! That stethoscope is dreadfully cold! One would think that with all of the technological advances in the world today that someone might have invented a stethoscope warmer at this point, wouldn’t you agree? Seems a fairly simple thing to construct. Perhaps similar to one of those foam pieces on headphones, eh?
Doctor: I guess so, never really thought about it. Listen, I’m going to need you to kind of hold off on the quirky British observations for a minute. Can’t really hear your heart when you’re yammering on like that.
Hugh Grant: Ah, yes, understood. I do, however, take slight offense to the term “yammering.” I don’t believe that I yammer. I’m not quite sure that I would even know how to yammer. Perhaps I tend to “ramble” at times, or even “carry on,” but “yammer?”
Doctor: Mr. Grant…
Hugh Grant: Yes, yes. Say no more. My apologies.
Doctor: Breathing sounds good, heartbeat normal. The nurse took your blood pressure before I came in, so that looks good. Any problems with your health lately?
Hugh Grant: No, none that I’ve noticed. Fit as a fiddle, as they say. Healthy as a horse. Strong as an ox.
Doctor: Right. I get it. So, let’s go ahead and check you for hernias, then we’ll examine the prostate. Go ahead and drop your drawers for me.
Hugh Grant: Well, that’s frightfully forward of you, doctor. You haven’t even offered so much as to buy me a drink first!
Doctor: You know, I don’t enjoy this any more than you do, so let’s cut with the witty quips that every doctor has heard five thousand times before and get this over with.
Hugh Grant: Right-o. Sorry. I’ll just go ahead then and… yes, there goes the belt, and the trousers are coming down. A bit chilly in here, don’t you think?
Doctor: Okay, turn your head to the right and cough, please.
Hugh Grant: Ahem.
Doctor: Um, can I get a real cough, please?
Hugh Grant: That’s how I cough. I’m British. Anything more would be rude and improper. At least that’s what my mum used to say, the old bat. No, I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.
Doctor: All right, I guess you don’t really need an adequate hernia test. Let’s go ahead and check the prostate. If you could, please, put your elbows on the table there and bend over for me…
Hugh Grant: Oh my, I imagine this must be how it is in prison, although I doubt they’re as polite as you, and they likely wouldn’t wear that rubber glove. The lubrication is a nice touch. Thanks for that. Hate to have to do this without it, I can tell you THAT!!! Oh, oh my, that is uncomfortable, isn’t it? Could you perhaps check on the baby for me while you’re in there? Want to be sure he’s getting his proper nutrition.
Doctor: Mr. Grant, Please try to relax, and keep quiet for me. As a matter of fact, you don’t have to relax if you don’t want to, but I’m going to have to insist that you stop talking.
Hugh Grant: Yes, of course. Apologies. Has anyone ever told you that you have very long fingers before? I believe I felt you tapping on my back teeth a few moments ago.
Doctor: Mr. Grant…
Hugh Grant: Sorry. My lips are sealed. Just not used to being so… “intimate,” I suppose.
Doctor: Okay, everything seems fine there. Look, I think you’re fine, so I’m just going to skip the rest of this and make some notes indicating you’ve passed your physical, and then we’ll send you on your way. Sound okay?
Hugh Grant: Oh, that’s all, then? No dinner and a movie? You didn’t want to perhaps tattoo your name on my forehead, indicating that I’m now your “beeyotch,” as they say? Always a bridesmaid, never a bride, regrettably.
Doctor: Mr. Grant… get out of my office.
Hugh Grant: Point taken. Good day to you, doctor.
[Hugh Grant hurriedly and awkwardly exits the doctors office. Leaving the doctor shaking his head in disgust while washing his hands]
what was all that trash about, poor Hugh, stop belittling the guy like that. you’re stupid Jason
I agree with you that Hugh Grant does at times seem a little bit on the gay side, but I think he’s actually just British. A common mistake. Glad you enjoyed the post. Thanks for dropping by!