Читать книгу More Blood, More Sweat and Another Cup of Tea - Tom Reynolds - Страница 22

The plan was perfect—we’d just taken a drunk to hospital and the patient (a 45-year-old man, married, father of two) had decided to urinate in the back of our ambulance. Both my crewmate and I were happy at this as we would have to return to our station to mop out, and on the way my crewmate could grab a chicken takeaway meal.

And I could get a cup of tea.

This apparently flawless plan was spoilt when we stopped for the food and a man came running out of a pub to tell me that a friend had ‘a fuckin’ big gash in his head’ from when he had fallen over.

So I dutifully entered the pub, to find a 50-year-old man with a cut down to the skull running from his hairline to his eyebrow. Most impressive.

Less impressive was his friend telling me that the patient had taken some speed earlier.

I don’t know about you, but I consider myself too old to be taking that stuff, let alone someone old enough to be my father.

Not that I’ve ever taken speed myself. I like my brain cells exactly how they are, thankyouverymuch.

Luckily another ambulance turned up and took the patient off our hands, and so we returned to the station where I completed the job of mopping out the urine that had been washing backwards and forwards on the floor as we drove along.

I just wish I could be a fly on the wall when our original drunken patient tries to explain to his wife exactly why he has pissed his trousers.