S Dnem Rozhdeniya, Lola (С днем рождения, Лола!)

This is wrong.

Steady on!

Oh, frig, I've been buzzed.

I always get pickpocketed at the hangings.

Every time.

People were so desperate to get to the body

they trampled over each other.

People were injured. They attacked the hangman himself.

Warren?

Well, he's the hangman on Tuesdays, he's a good chap.

Clearly, these public executions have a very deleterious

effect on the crowd.

Yes, well done. Right, down the hatch.

And have some of this if you want, I will be.

What's that good for?

Hallucinations, if you drink enough of it.

I'll have a sip.

Hello, doctors.

If you have a moment,

I wanted to talk to you about my wife's torpid liver.

Let's test your theory, William -

does regular attendance at hangings damage a man's brain?

Mr Hubble, do you enjoy public executions?

I absolutely love them.

My dad used to take me when I was young.

You never forget your first hanging as a child, do you?

'Ere, you must be that famous surgeon, Mr Lessing.

Yes.

Caroline, what are you doing here?

I must be hallucinating.

Oh, I've just had the most amazing day.

I went to hear Charles Dickens reading from The Old Curiosity Shop

and talking about his new book, Dombey And Son.

He read for seven and a half hours.

He has such energy and humanity and wit.

He's not a self-obsessed bore at all.

Do you enjoy his books?

Yes.

Really? You like reading about pale,

consumptive children wandering around in graveyards, do you?

Oh, John! He's our greatest and most important polemical storyteller.

I tried reading The Pickwick Papers, it was longer than sorrow.

I lost the will to live by page 80.

Yeah, well, that was his first book.

It was light and satirical.

He's become so much more substantial since then.

His depiction of Mr Quilp, the malevolent,

lust-filled dwarf filled my mind for weeks.

Have you read Curiosity Shop?

It's my absolute favourite of his.

Now, look, the truly exciting news is that I talked

to his publisher, Mr Bradbury, after the reading and I told him about

the paper that I've written about the excessively long hours

that children work and he invited me to have dinner with him

and Mr Dickens to discuss it

at Charles Dickens' house!

So would you like to escort me?

I can't. When is it?

Saturday evening. Yes, I can't.

William, will you escort her?

I'm not sure I'm the right person for that sort of event,

but perhaps John...

Yes, I'd love to escort you. You haven't read the books.

No, of course not, but I'd like to try and get him to read

my drug diary. I think it will be right up his alley.

No, you have to be a fan of his if you're going to come for dinner.

So will you escort me, please, William?

Well, if your husband has no desire to attend,

then I'd be delighted

to escort you. I'd be very interested to meet the mighty boss.

Will you ask him from me what he's got against dwarfs?

You can see after only three days the skin is already

beginning to heal across the wound.

Well done, Mr Harris. I think you'll find you'll be back selling fish

sooner than you imagine.

Sorry, can I help you?

Sad to say that if you want to be one of the nurses

attending my operations, there's an unhappily long waiting list.

I have an observation to make.

I watched this amputation on Monday and I think you made a severe

mistake not cutting the dead flesh away from around the incision.

I beg your pardon. And you should be cleaning your instruments after use.

I'm sorry, who are you?

My name is Florence Nightingale.

Dr Hendrick,

please can we have this annoying nurse removed?

I'm not a nurse, I'm a volunteer.

Ah, you've met Miss Nightingale. Isn't she wonderful?

No. She's had some very exciting new ideas for the hospital.

She thinks the nurses should be sober.

She wants to clean the sheets more often, get rid of some of the rats.

And the surgeons must clean their instruments.

I'm sorry, but I am not going to be told how to proceed by some

volunteer who knows as much about surgery as I do about German opera.

Which, to be clear, is nothing.

God has sent me here.

I've prayed about making improvements to this hospital

and 83% of my prayers come true.

Sorry...you keep count of how many of your prayers come true?

Mm-hmm. Well, I keep a list of Jews I meet.

Patients won't know what an experienced surgeon I am

unless they can see the blood on my coat and instruments, will they?

Oh, that's a fair point.

Father wondered if you'd like to visit us over the summer

at the villa near Verona.

Oh, how delightful.

Er, when was he suggesting?

I'll say you're keen and find out.

Florence's father is Mr William Nightingale.

Great friend of Lord Palmerston's. I see.

Do let me know his reply, Miss Nightingale,

and let's clean up those instruments, shall we, Lessing?

We've got to get rid of her.

Why is she so appalling?

She doesn't know what she's doing.

She's already insisted that Hendrick get rid of two young surgeons

simply because all their patients died of gangrene.

Good men I'm talking about.

Oh, she does look awful.

Look at her opening windows!

All she does is endlessly open windows.

She's letting in some fresh air.

But look at the way she's doing it, all proprietorial

and sanctimonious and pleased with herself.

Thank you. Yeah.

Mind you, I bet she's filthy in bed.

It's always the uptight, religious ones.

Once they unclench.

Let's get her locked up.

Can you certify that she's got a brain disorder? Or hysteria?

She isn't mad or hysterical.

Yes, she is, she told me that she has visions.

God told her to come here.

I'm not doing that.

You want patients to try ether on, let's ask her.

Give her too much, tragic accident in the name of progress.

I don't really want to kill nurses.

She's coming this way.

Good morning to you, Mr Lessing.

Yes. Who are your two friends here?

He's an alienist, he's a dentist.

Neither of them clean their instruments

or their bottoms.

Then they should start to.

I gather Dr Hendrick has asked for you and I

to visit Lady Neilson-Toy with him this afternoon.

Hendrick's patron?

YOU and me?!

She has got a lovely smile.

Agh! No. Get off!

Good try, little man, but you'll have to be a good deal quicker

than that with me. Sorry, Mister! Don't hurt me.

I've never tried it before.

It's only cos I'm desperate hungry.

I've got some bread, some cheese and...oh.

A Swiss liqueur. Thanks.

What's your name?

Don't know, Mister. Mother didn't want to give me a name

until I was six in case I died before then. I see.

But you're older than six now, aren't you?

What's your favourite name?

Winkle, like in the book by that man.

Let's maybe call you Oliver for now.

Little Ollie.

We are you from, Ollie? I was born in Deptford.

I never knew my father.

Mother used to collect horse dung for a living

before she became a tart.

Ah. Right.

What is it you do in here, Mister?

It's a wondrous room.

Don't touch that!

I'm a dentist. That's my dentist chair.

These are the drugs I try and give people to help with the pain.

Have you got a bad tooth? Hurts like a kick in the whiffle. Does it?

Well, let's have a look then, shall we?

How much do you weigh, Ollie?

I don't know. Right.

I'm going to weigh you.

Then I would like you to inhale a bit of this for me

before I pull your tooth out. How's that?

Thanks, Mister. Didn't feel a thing.

Well, that is the power of ether.

Astonishing. You's astonishing. Well, thank you.

Hey, here's a coin for your tooth as well.

Child's tooth's worth a pretty penny, I can tell you.

And how long has this discomfort down below been with you, madam?

Oh, several weeks now.

We should examine her.

Oh, no, I don't want that.

Rest assured, my lady, there's no need for an examination.

I can diagnose perfectly well simply through conversation.

I suspect you have a large haemorrhoid.

Perhaps the size of a Christmas walnut.

If we book a time, Mr Lessing, my surgeon,

may be able to attend to the problem.

You feel it may require surgery?!

Well... It may. If I could examine, I'd be certain.

Be quiet.

I am Sir Christopher Wren, you are my builder.