Narrator: Welcome all to our festive excursion,
Into plots laid all for the diversion,
Of your entertainment, which we ought to see:
Comes to one and all; so simple, so free.
Our character, the raiment of our background clothes,
Is dear old Ebenezer, and watch how he grows,
From a cautious old miser, catastrophizing,
About how patient patients are like bees with a sting;
To an upbeat dude hipster, in with the boys,
With all their fast cars, and all their cool toys.
The brazen new Scrooge is more confident,
To tell the Ministry of Justice the road is not bent.
The new Scrooge wants patients to be unfettered and free.
The old Scrooge imbibes horror to deny liberty.

Ms Impecunious: Oh, it's cold in here on this ward. I wish we had the heating turned up. I am Ms Impecunious, an underpaid ward staff. I have to run from hither to thither, chasing response calls, counting cutlery, opening doors, doing security checks, making sure the windows don't fall out of the walls, supervising kitchen access, shaves, leaves: not the leaves on trees you silly person, I mean section 17 leaves and stage 1 leaves around the hospital grounds. I am underpaid. I need a financial advisor. No. I need a pay-rise. Maybe if I work hard enough I can become a manager.

Mr Dirk Dither: Ha. A manager? You'll need a degree for that; and how much would that cost you? No chance! Try becoming a nurse instead.

Narrator: Now is the winter of our discontent:
The prongs of the forks on the ward are bent!
I notice this as an aside,
It's one of the things I can't abide.

Mr Dirk Dither: A degree indeed. As if Ms Impecunious can afford to get one of those!
I am a manager, incompetent at that.
I built a hospital but the roof was flat.

Ms Impecunious: Oh I wish the roof had been built correctly in the first place, Mr Dither. My, it's cold in here. I'll have to put my coat on. There seems to be a lot of heating in the storage cupboard, but what is the use in that?

Mr Dirk Dither That's because when the hospital was built for £375 million, a sub-sub-sub contractor was following the instructions for the building plans which were agreed by a sub-contractor of a building franchise, which merged with a larger construction company, resulting in a minor disparity in the ratios of under-floor heating pipes throughout the hospital --- as has been repeated in hospitals throughout the country. Further, the fitted bathroom units do not have space for a U-bend on the drainage outlet, resulting in permanently smelly bedrooms and corridors.

Ms Impecunious: Not to mention the outside drains are a bit sewage smelly in the summer-time --- as has been repeated in other hospitals throughout the country.

David Dizzy: Oh poor poor me. Woe be me. A tale of woes. I am incarcerated. I am undone. I'll never get out of this place. I am a patient. My name is David Dizzy and I am merely locked up for many years.

Narrator: I really must get off the mark,
To introduce in ignoble starts,
The story of our protagonist,
Who chaffs his corn but eats the grist.
His name, my friends, is Ebenezer Scrooge:
He is one of those college dudes,
But not of any institution;
A royal one, a constitution.
He is a royal college shrink;
He is a fellow of the ink.
He holds his pen like a sword,
His mere gesture is a word.
With one mere glance he can ensure,
A patient to be forever moored.

David Dizzy: Please can I have some leaves?

Old Scrooge: No.

David Dizzy: Please. Please. Please.

Old Scrooge: I said "No"! You're not to be trusted. I think you may pose a risk to others.

David Dizzy: But I am on medication now. These tablets really work. My true self on these tablets is not a reflection of the decisions I made when the signal to noise ratio of my dopamine neurotransmitters was out of balance, and lost in translation.

Old Scrooge: I said "No"; and stop using big words. Who do you think you are? You don't have my special insight. You've not studied for decades --- I say decades! --- to live in an ivory tower, looking down on creation.

Narrator: The nature of mischance, is that time passes in a merry dance.
I will now transport myself into the ghost of medical degrees past.

Exeunt all

Old Scrooge: I'll lock them up. I'll lock them up more. I'll never let them go. I'll never let them go more. Zzzzzz....

Narrator: Hush! Look! Scrooge is sleeping.
He shall dream of patients weeping.
In his slumber he shan't rest.
Until he's locked up all the best.
In his sleep as shall be seen:
Mr Clutter, intervene!

Mr Clutter: Wake up, Ebenezer. Wake up!

Old Scrooge: What? Who? Where?
Who are you?

Mr Clutter: It's Mr Clutter, the I.T. expert and I am very paranoid. I run the patients' access to the internet, and I believe that all computer jargon is illegal!

Old Scrooge: What do you want?
What do you mean by waking me at this ungodly hour?

Mr Clutter: A patient has hacked into a foreign power's computer systems, and their president has armed all their nuclear warheads.

Old Scrooge: What are you blithering about?

Mr Clutter: It's that David Dizzy! I can smell it. I know a computer hacker when I see one. They usually have 10 fingers.

Old Scrooge: Okay, okay. I'm a psychiatrist. I'm now going to counsel you. What do you think has happened and why?

Mr Clutter: I believe that somebody --- and I reckon I know who --- has used a computer to gain unlawful access to foreign computers, and the president of that country has taken defensive measures.

Old Scrooge: And you say you think you know who did this?

Mr Clutter: Yes.

Old Scrooge: David Dizzy?

Mr Clutter: Yes.

Narrator: So friends, as you can see,
things bode not well for David Dizzy.

Mr Clutter: There he is! Detain him! Stop in the name of the law!

David Dizzy: What? .... What? .... What?

Narrator: Now to get off the mark:
Things are very plain and stark.
Poor old Dizzy is moping along,
Without aim, singing a song.
And all he wants is some internet
To better his life and beget
More knowledge thereof by I.T. :
To get him a job, when he's free.
But the real issue was Percival Pratt,
That made poor Scrooge eat his hat.
35 years ago, Ebenezer wanted to grow
Into a hip progressive dude,
Dishing out more than food.
He wanted meds to set them free:
Not unbestowing of liberty.

Percival Pratt: I am now Percival Pratt, and the time is 35 years ago.

Old Scrooge: What's this? I am now in ward round, but the time is 35 years ago? What is happening to me? What is this apparition?

Young Scrooge: So Percival, how's your week been? Any trouble with the meds? Any side-effects? Any symptoms like strange thoughts or hallucinations? Any thoughts or ideas about the possibilities of mind-reading? And how's your daily mood been?

Young Scrooge: Excuse me one moment. That is an emergency response call which I must attend.

Percival Pratt: Ah ha. Here's my chance! I notice that the doctor has left in such a hurry that he has forgotten to log out of his computer, which is conveniently set to my medical records; and if I just type this..... and this..... then I will be due for release immediately!

Young Scrooge: Sorry about that. Any more to report? Well, that concludes ward round for this session. Thank you for attending.

Narrator: Then what happened was that Scrooge was in disgrace,
For releasing such a mobster with such a face.
Percival Pratt was a secret safe breaker,
His underworld code-name was Freddie Laker.
He stole some diamonds from the Queen.
Oh dear. Scrooge's career has been,
Thoroughly jeopardized: that's the truth.
Is our saviour's face our devil's tooth?
Now as it transpires this is all a dream.
Tomorrow yet shall still be seen,
How kinder shall Scrooge be for-seen.
How more bestowing of compliment.
How more begetting of betterments.

Mr Clutter: Good morning, Dr Scrooge.

Old Scrooge: Good morning, Mr Clutter. Oh Mr Clutter, how is David Dizzy getting on in his computer sessions?

Mr Clutter: Oh. He won't get away with it. I'll keep my eye on him. I wasn't born yesterday.

Old Scrooge: Get away with what? Pray tell.

Mr Clutter: With computer hacking of course. I've seen all sorts pass in, but not out, through these walls. I know what's going on. I'm as street-wise and savvy as the next so-and-so.

Old Scrooge: Now why would David Dizzy be computer hacking in the patients' computer sessions?

Mr Clutter: Because he's a miscreant! A no-good. And I'm a paranoid bizzy-body who'll keep a firm foot on the long arm of the law.

Old Scrooge: Wait a minute. Are you saying that David Dizzy is capable of computer hacking? I mean that's like saying he's a rocket scientist or a brain surgeon, or something equally skilled? Surely, if he is as clever and and as knowledgeable as you say he is, then he should be out there working for the government, not stuck in here, growing old without hope nor purpose.

Mr Clutter: Are you feeling alright, Dr Scrooge? This is David Dizzy we are talking about here! You know that person with a head, and two arms, with legs, and 10 fingers: surely that is evidence enough of his guilt. He should be restricted!

Old Scrooge: Well there is a principle of the least restrictive practices which was enshrined in law in the 1983 Mental Health Act of the U.K. Parliament.

Mr Clutter: Oh that. Nobody will ever interpret that. Just look at the complaints department. They deal with complaints as though they had a thought disorder: can't stick to the central themes; complain about A, B and C, and they'll talk about X,Y, and Z in response. Nice. I like it.

Old Scrooge: Listen here Mr Clutter. David Dizzy is not here to be punished, and I respectfully ask that he be granted access to look at computer code, because unless you have any evidence that he is a computer hacker, then that is the law.

Mr Clutter: Go away, Dr Scrooge. I won't listen to you. I've been driving this bus since it was built. My philosophy is as old as the hills. I know a bad one when I see him. I'm oblivious to progress, and I don't like evidence. As far as I am concerned, evidence is what I don't know, and there is an awful lot of that!

Old Scrooge: Well, I will be having words with higher management about your position.

Mr Clutter: You do that. I would like to see how far you get.

ACT II: SCENE 3;

Dirk Dither: I don't know. I don't know more. I don't care reasonably. I couldn't care less about my lack of reasonability. The hospital roofs were flat, and they didn't pass the fire regulations. Whoops! It's not my fault because it was written into the building contracts.

Dirk Dither: Come in.

Dirk Dither: Hello, Dr Scrooge.

Old Scrooge: Hello Mr Dither. I've come to see you about David Dizzy and his accessing of the internet. Mr Clutter, the I.T. expert, whom I believe may be slightly paranoid, has just been talking to me about him, and Mr Clutter claims that David Dizzy may be some kind of secret under-hand operative who is capable of hacking computers. Have you heard anything about this?

Dirk Dither: Well, David Dizzy did make a formal complaint about this a while back, but I just swept it under the carpet, taking months to reply and talked about his leave status in the complaint outcome.

Old Scrooge: But that was not what the complaint was about. Why did you do this?

Dirk Dither: To side-step the issue. I told David Dizzy to prepare a list of websites he wanted to look at. That way he is even more restricted, and how can he find the sites without looking for them (and hence viewing them) in the first place. Ha ha. Clever, what?

Old Scrooge: (getting cross) Listen here, you. I am not happy with the way that David Dizzy is being treated by this establishment. I feel that there is a certain amount of institutionalized bullying going on. I am going to endeavour to put a stop to all this.

Dirk Dither: And how are you going to do that, Dr Scrooge? Aw, come on. Look on the bright side: at least he's locked up.

Old Scrooge: (Getting red in the face) I won't stand for this! Do you hear? I won't put up with it.

Dirk Dither: Well I'm lost for words. How come you've become all angelic all over, all of a sudden?

Old Scrooge: I'll put a stop to it!

Mr Spade: I'll dig out these weeds. I'll dig out these weeds more. I'll dig out more of the weeds. I'll dig out more of these weeds more.

David Dizzy: Hello Mr Spade. Nice morning.

Mr Spade: Why, hi there David. How are you doing this fine Spring day? Fettle okay?

David Dizzy: Oh, I'm alright. I was hoping to ask you whether I could plant some sweetcorn and onions this year. The onions can be started soon on account of the seasons.

Mr Spade: I have no objections, but I don't know where I will be working next month, and Dirk Dither, the manager, has told me not to take on any new obligations, especially with patients on account of that.

David Dizzy: Oh dear. But all I want to do is to access a spade and a fork and do some sowing and potting of plants in the poly-tunnel.

Mr Spade: That's not possible, I am afraid, due to the merger which is happening between the mental health side, and the learning disability side, of this hospital, within the NHS trust.

David Dizzy: Oh dear.

Mr Spade: Yes. Quite.

Narrator: Now, my friends, as you can see,
Our better Ebenezer is wanting to be,
A guiding light, a noble hearth
Beaming warmth, to all and forth.
Deep down inside he can be kind.
In his spirit he can find
A glowing ember, nice and warm.
Now the ghost of present dawns.
The present moment is to-day.
Let's not be idle, nor make hay.
Medical degrees are what he seeks,
Even though his soul was weak.
Presently, not here, nor there,
Degrees are paper, and shall scare
The meek into a subdued trance:
Time, perchance, our merry dance.

Mr Down: Wake up, Dr Scrooge. Wake up.

Old Scrooge: What do you want, Mr Down? What are you doing here? How did you get in?

Mr Down: This is just a dream, Dr Scrooge. The ghost of medical degrees present has sent me to show you how to mend your ways.

Old Scrooge: How come you're all picking on me all of a sudden? I thought that was my job.

Mr Down: That's part of the problem, Dr Scrooge. We all think that you should take a look at something.

Old Scrooge: What now? And why can't you all just leave me alone?

Narrator: It was 20 years ago that the Earthquake struck,
It was that Ebenezer was without luck,
For on the table as it perched,
Was a laptop computer and it lurched,
Across the room in the quake,
Unfortunately it did break,
Irreparably; and divided be,
The medical community.
For poor old Scrooge had forgot to backup,
His data into a security depot.
He lost all the records of many years,
Oh, he shed some stoical tears.
For this was his fault; and the society,
Of medical experts had said,
Never let it be read that the data is lost,
Of all the patients: what a cost,
To poor Ebenezer's failing career,
By my word, this cost him dear.
For Scrooge's name was in the mud.
He was like Noah in the flood:
All alone on a ship.
No longer was he very hip.

Old Scrooge: Yes, I remember that well. There was an Earthquake in Teeside, and my computer broke when it hit the floor, rendering all the medical records of all the patients beyond recovery. We tried everything: this, that, the other thing, I.T. experts, non-paranoid at that. But no joy. No data. My career was ruined: my reputation cast down upon by the Royal Society of Psychiatry.

David Dizzy: Hello doctor. I know you mentioned a year ago that a laptop was out of the question; but that was a year ago, and I was wondering if there have been any progressions with the security arrangements.

Old Scrooge: Well over the last few month there has been considerable improvement in your mood. This has been noted by staff; and I would like this to continue. I will discuss the possibility of yourself having a laptop with Mr Down, the head of security.

Mr Down: I'll restrict them. I'll restrict them more. I'll not let them have this. I'll not them have that more. I am Mr Down, the head of security and I am grumpy. Grumpy. Grumpy. Grumpy. The only day I would smile is if I saw the four horsemen of the apocalypse descending from the sky followed by a blaze of fire. I don't think patients should have anything technological! They're risky and dangerous, and I am frightened of a BIG scandal if the world found out that they had something that somebody said that they shouldn't have had. Internet no! Laptops no! Raspberry pi, no! Tablets no! Ha ha. I am in my element now. Ho ho.

Old Scrooge: Hello, Mr Down.

Mr Down: Hello, doctor. What can I do for you?

Old Scrooge: Good day to you. I was hoping to discuss the possibility of one of my patients acquiring a laptop computer for his own personal use.

Mr Down: Let me guess. David Dizzy I presume?

Old Scrooge: That's right.

Mr Down: Out of the question. That David Dizzy would pose a fire risk with a computer; and, as you know, the roofs don't meet the fire-regulations here at Roseberry Park, so we are having an extra ward built in the car-park to shunt patients into while the roofs get fixed.

Old Scrooge: Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What's this about the roofs? Are they really unsafe?

Mr Down: Yes. Ask Mr Dither, the manager, who built this hospital in the first place.

Old Scrooge: Oh dear.

Mr Down: (aside to the audience) They don't call me grumpy for nothing, you know.

Old Scrooge: So, David Dizzy, I've asked Mr Down, the head of security whether we can allow you to have a laptop, and he says the reason they are not allowed is because they might spontaneously combust, thus posing a fire-risk as the roofs don't meet fire safety specifications.

David Dizzy: Okay then doctor. Thanks for asking on my behalf.

Narrator: Although our Scrooge is gentler now,
What make a tree bend makes it bow.
And so for all, and one, can see,
How Scrooge is growing to be free:
In his heart for betterment,
To our festive merriment.
Our kinder Scrooge is nobler sort,
No longer seeking to be aught,
That would make a patient cry,
To be seen as smaller fry.
Our poor Scrooge a victim was
Of fate, not mercy, and because:
His twisted heart now shalt melt.
His plumes of mercy, down, and felt.
His former grimace and his look,
Now shalt be not so partook.
I, in part, shall like become,
The ghost of future paths be won:
The melted heart, the noble pot,
Degrees of future care forgot.

Mrs Mop: Wakey wakey Ebenezer. It's Mrs Mop the over-worked cleaner. The ghost of future paths has sent me. I'm here to show you a better future.

Old Scrooge: Oh, it's you. It's this again. I was expecting you. What gems do you have to show me tonight?

Narrator: I here stand for Scrooge's care
Like sleigh-bells in the snow.
This split path --- how would we fair
Now, if that we should know?
Like forks in roads our futures fare
Upon not knowing this.
Poor old Scrooge, must this endure
To see right through the mist.

Old Scrooge: Well? What is it?

Mrs Mop: Now what do you want first? Merry or glum? A good vision, or a bad one?

Old Scrooge: Good. Good. Please show me the better future.

David Dizzy: Hello, Mrs Mop. Did you know the national insurance contributions has gone up this year, and this will be taken off our wages?

Mrs Mop: Oh yes. And how long is it now that we've been working together?

David Dizzy: 11 years, and neither of us is over-worked. There's just enough cleaning for all the cleaners to do. Clean. Clean. Mop. Dust. Ah, that's the life. No paperwork, nor nonsense-speak to do.

Narrator: Now that Scrooge has seen the betterment,
It is time for him to view the detriment,
Of the mental health of David Dizzy,
And the over-worked labour of Mrs Fizzy.

Narrator: No, not really. Mrs Mop.
Now that rhymes, so I shall stop.

Mrs Mop: Now I am afraid, my poor Ebenezer, that it is time for the vision of the bad future. Brace yourself. Are you ready?

Old Scrooge: I am.

David Dizzy: Mope. Mope. Mope. All I do is lounge about. This greatly accelerates my mental deterioration. I am old. Old. Old. Old. I have been in places like this for decades. I have forgotten anything outside of the high walls of this prison-like establishment.

Mrs Mop: Hello, David Dizzy.

David Dizzy: You've missed a bit.

Mrs Mop: Now. You. I won't be putting up with any of your cheek today. I am over-worked enough as it is, and I only get paid to clean; not to counsel you.

Old Scrooge: That's it! I never thought of that before. It's this place that is the problem and is unprogressive. No wonder his mental decline accelerated more rapidly without himself being released into the community. He needed to independently work as a cleaner to promote his mental health and well-being. I know what I am going to do tomorrow. I shall release him!

Mr Spade: Ah doctor. I was hoping to have a word with you. David Dizzy has been asking me if he could plant some sweetcorn and onions in the hospital grounds this year...

Old Scrooge: Never mind that, Mr Spade. The world's your oyster. You're as free as a bird. He can grow as much sweetcorn as he likes: a farm of sweetcorn! Hooray!

Mr Spade: (aside to the audience) And he is the guy in charge of medication?

Old Scrooge: A laptop! A phone! A robot! A rocket! I am elated today. This is the first day of the rest of my life!

Mr Down: Sorry, what, and pardon? What are you saying?

Old Scrooge: That David Dizzy can have a laptop for his own personal use. Well he can now! Ho ho.

Mr Down: (aside) I haven't the foggiest what he is talking about.

Mr Clutter: Yes, they can hack into ebay, and steal the details of all the service users and their passwords. Oh, hello.

Old Scrooge: Don't worry Mr Clutter. David Dizzy will be reading computer code soon.

Old Scrooge: Mr Dither. I've just bought into a franchise. It's called the David Dizzy corporation.

Dirk Dither: Look. I just deal with complaints... and hospital roofs... and complaints about hospital roofs. If this is anything about what we talked about the other day, then that will have to wait, as I have a mountainous tonne of complaints to deal with.

Old Scrooge: Look at that bird, Mr Dither. It does not complain when it gets hungry, because it is free. Freedom enables us to get what we need: just like the bird is able to fly to its food.

Old Scrooge: Ms Impecunious! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, for making such copious notes about David Dizzy; but I realise now that this has prevented me from spending any time with him: thus everything I got to read was second-hand information. It was mostly trivial nonsense about what he had eaten, and whether he had walked around the grounds --- as if the precise number of the laps of the courtyard was going to make any difference. But now I come to realise that all this kept me from true knowledge of him. But thank you anyway.

Ms Impecunious: Why. Thank you for saying that, Dr Scrooge. I was aware that the nature of the law governing nursing was counter-productive and vastly inefficient... But what can you do?

Old Scrooge: It was you, Mrs Mop! You were the true carer for David Dizzy, because you spoke to him without being continually interrupted by background checks on the windows, the cutlery counting, the keys for the washing powder, the locked away sheets and towels, the observations, the opening of doors for ground leaves, and the eternal documenting of irrelevant nonsense and absurd trivia.

Narrator: Although not known, Mrs Mop,
Held together the whole shop.
For when she came upon the ward,
She silenced David with a word.
None the other spoke like her:
With whom the doctor did concur.

David Dizzy: Good morning doctor. Good morning, all.

Old Scrooge: You're free David. To-day is the day I shall release you into the community.

David Dizzy: What's the date?
Is this a joke?
From idle scares,
From idle folk?

All: No, it's not.
You're born. You're free.
You silly clot. It's liberty.

Narrator: Thanks to all: to one and many.
Thanks too for your copper penny.
You've been a great audience.
Time, perchance, that merry dance,
Has lead Scrooge to his betterment,
For your jovial merriment.
We hope that you enjoyed our show.
Be careful in the sleet and snow.
We hope you bear our parts in mind,
And hope that optimistic hope can find,
A truthful slant in this text.
To all your futures: all the best.
Thank you all for watching us;
Spread the word, and make a fuss,
About this artful company,
All seeking for some liberty.