Arsene visits Thomas

(Arsene emerges from the toilet shaking water from his hands.)

Arsene: Ah, that was magnificent! In a job like mine, you have to enjoy the small things in life.

(Arsene sniggers.)

Arsene: Well, this one wasn't that small. Ha ha ha!

(Arsene casually wipes his hands on his jacket, which he promptly takes off and throws in the bin. Arsene then carries on walking towards the medical centre, where there is a door frame but no door.)

Arsene: Colin?

(Colin appears from another room.)

Colin: Arsene! How nice of you to drop by! Any more injuries for me today?

Arsene: No... look, why is there no door?

Colin: Ah, that was my idea! See, we did have a door, but we found that it was a hazard?

Arsene: A hazard?

Colin: Yeah, we were getting strained arms, dislocated shoulders, broken wrists all over the shop! Quite funny really when you think about it!

(Arsene looks sternly at Colin.)

Colin: So anyway, we decided to put an automatic door in. Sounded pretty sensible at the time.

Arsene: And what happened?

Colin: Well, all was going well, until Theo came in. He was going through the door, and then realised his shoe lace was untied. So he bent down to tie it up, and the door almost crushed him to death! You should have seen his little face!

(Arsene again gives Colin a stern look.)

Colin: Right. Anyway, I then had a brainwave of putting hanging beads from the door!

Arsene: And where are these hanging beads?

Colin: Oh, we had to take them down too, poor old Tomas Rosicky went through them one day and they almost suffocated him.

Arsene: I see.

(There is a long pause.)

Colin: So anyway, what are you after?

Arsene: Is Thomas Vermaelen here?

Colin: Yeah, he's through that door.

(Arsene goes through the door into another room. Thomas is lying motionless on his bed, staring into the ceiling.)

Arsene: Uh, Thomas?

(Thomas looks at Arsene and smiles.)

Thomas: Arsene, good to see you! How are you?

Arsene: Well, can't complain. Well, actually, I can. Well, I could complain, but I don't really know who I'd complain to. Ha ha! So I guess I can't complain... which is what I said in the first place...

(Arsene looks sheepish.)

Arsene: Anyway, how are you? Ready to face Bolton tomorrow?

Thomas: Arsene, I'm not fit yet! I'd injure myself more if I played tomorrow.

(Arsene's left eye twitches involuntarily.)

Arsene: Look Thomas, I think you could do it. I believe in you.

Thomas: Thanks Arsene, but I'm afraid I can't play.

(Arsene looks around him, then goes and shuts the door.)

Thomas: Arsene?

(Arsene walks over to Thomas, hand in his pocket. Suddenly he cries out and points behind Thomas.)

Arsene: LOOK! TINTIN!

(Thomas looks around. As he does so, Arsene quickly takes a syringe from his pocket and pokes it into Thomas' arm.)

Thomas: OWWWWWW!!!

Arsene: I'm sorry I had to do that.

Thomas: What have you done?

Arsene: I've injected you with my own patented serum.

(Thomas looks worried.)

Arsene: A bit of coffee, some lucozade... some aspirin... a bit of tiger blood...

(Thomas' eyes widen.)

Thomas: TIGER BLOOD???

Arsene: Shh, let me think, I'm sure there was something else...

Thomas: WHERE ON EARTH DID YOU GET TIGER BLOOD FROM????

Arsene: Now what was it... Ah yes, viagra.

(Thomas goes white as a sheet.)

Thomas: Arsene, please tell me you're joking.

Arsene: I...

Thomas: PLEASE!!!

Arsene: OH MY WORD, WHAT'S THAT IN YOUR THROAT???

Thomas: Huh?

Arsene: Your throat, let me see!!

(Thomas reluctantly, and hesitantly, opens his mouth. Arsene, quick as a flash, throws a fairly large purple pill down it. Thomas' eyes water.)

Thomas: ARSENE!! WHAT ARE YOU UP TO??? WHAT WAS THAT???

(Arsene mumbles something incoherent.)

Thomas: What?

(Arsene again mumbles something incoherent.)

Thomas: ARSENE!!

Arsene: Rat poison.

Thomas: Rat poisin???

Arsene: No, poison with an 's' 'o' 'n' at the end.

Thomas: Oh right.

(There is an awkward pause.)

Thomas: Rat poison??

Arsene: If you don't run around it will kill you.

Thomas: I beg your pardon?

Arsene: I gave you such a dose that if you don't run around for 90 minutes tomorrow at around 3 til 5, then you will die.

Thomas: Please tell me you're joking?

Arsene: I never joke about my work.

Thomas: So...

Arsene: See you tomorrow. I expect great things!

(Arsene gets up to leave. He looks at Thomas, who is silently sobbing.)

Arsene: Until next time.