Fast Fiction: The Inspector
Dr Grinstead doesn't believe in anything as formal as methods - but what kind of hospital is this? Read Richard Mallinson's enigmatic short story, then make up your own mind.
‘And the patient you see over there used to be a politician,’ said the man in the long white coat who had introduced himself to me as ‘Dr Grinsted but please call me Angus.’
I smiled. ‘Perhaps you will tell me, Angus, about the methods you are using to treat him.’
He frowned and took a pencil out of his top pocket.
‘Oh, we don’t have anything as formal as methods here,’ he said, putting the pencil back.
Then he touched his quiff of brownish hair with a slender hand and went on, ‘We have thrown away all the textbooks and all the old tools of the trade, medication, electric shock etc. We simply rely on-’
‘Well, I cut in, ‘if you want to keep this bloody place open beyond next week you and your over-paid pals had better get back to bas-’
At that moment a grey-haired man in a dark suit came up to me.
‘Ah, hullo, Mr er,’ he said, shaking my hand, ‘I am so sorry that I wasn’t here to greet you but I imagine that Angus has given you a fair picture of how we do things here.’ He paused and smiled smugly.
‘Angus is one of our stars,’ he went on, ‘and we are very proud of him, aren’t we, Angus? And now if you would care to step this way into the office, Mr er. . .’
In the office I was startled to see a redfaced man behind the desk and even more startled when he looked past me and said, ‘Thank you, Derwent, that will be all. . . you may go and join the others now.’
‘Certainly, Dr Tunker,’ said the man in the dark suit.
Then the phone rang. ‘What?’ roared Dr Tunker. ‘Postponed? Then who the hell is this poncing little -?’ but he would never know.
