Name My Ailment

Panel game format. PIM and ROLAND on the panel. HOST in charge.

HOST: Hello, and tonight on Name My Ailment we shall be talking to various pathetic old crocks, trying to guess the name of their obscure maladies, and at the same time bringing a spark of excitement and transient celebrity into their miserable, disease-ridden lives. Pim and Roland are here as ever to cross-examine –

PIM/ROLAND:          Hello. Hi.

HOST: – so let’s get straight on with the game and could we have our first mystery sickbag please. (MIKE enters) Hello, and your name is?

MIKE: Mike.

HOST: That’s enough, Mike, don’t want to give too much away do we, ha ha ha? For the benefit of our studio audience and the viewers at home, this is the disease our guest is suffering from. (SUPER: Monosyllabism) Now remember, panel, you have just ten questions in which to guess the name of Mike’s ailment –

ROLAND:      Well, it’s certainly not anorexia!

            (general laughter)

HOST: Ha ha ha, a sarcy little one from Roland there, but ladies first, and it’s Pim.

PIM:    Hello there Mike, nice to see you looking so well. Now is this malady visible to the naked eye?

MIKE: No.

PIM:    I see. So it must be something internal like gall stones or housemaid’s knee.

MIKE: No.

HOST: No, it’s neither of those. Roland?

MAN:  Is it a virus of some kind? I’m thinking now along the lines of rabies.

MIKE: No.

HOST: No, it’s not rabies, Roland.

ROLAND:      Leprosy?

MIKE: No.

PIM:    Is it contagious at all?

MIKE: Er… (looks to HOST for help)

HOST: Contagious, Mike, it means if you were trapped in a lift with six other people and you suddenly told them you had this disease, would they immediately start writing out their wills and trying to have sex with each other?

MIKE: No.

HOST: No. Right. Roland.

ROLAND:      Is this condition hereditary?

MIKE: No.

ROLAND:      So it’s not syphilis?

HOST: No it’s not syphilis, and you’ve had four questions.

PIM:    Can it be transmitted by the sex act in its widest sense?

ROLAND:Like holding hands, or stroking someone’s bottom?

MIKE: No.

HOST: No, and that’s five questions.

ROLAND:This is a toughie.

PIM:    It certainly is. Not rabies, not hereditary. Then it must be something psychological.

HOST: Yes, it’s psychological, Pim, and you’ve had six questions.

ROLAND:      I was beginning to think it must be sweaty feet or incontinence or something! Psychological… I’m going to stick my neck out here and say, is it bed-wetting?

MIKE: No!

HOST: No, it’s not bed-wetting. (PIM and ROLAND confer) And I see Mike has posed the panel a real corker tonight. While they’re conferring, Mike, would you mind telling us what you do for a living?

MIKE: Yes.

HOST: Yes, Mike would mind telling is what he does for a living, so I wonder if that will have given our panel any ideas?

PIM:    (inspiration) Is it congenital bloody-mindedness?

MIKE: No.

HOST: No Pim, it is not congenital bloody-mindedness, but you’re getting warm, and you have just two questions left.

ROLAND:      Is it imbecility of some kind?

MIKE: No!

HOST: No, not imbecility. Pim?

PIM:    Appalling taste in sweaters?

HOST:Ha ha ha, no, I won’t add that on, Pim, because poor dress sense is not yet considered a disease in our society, and we are not here to cast stones after all. Roland?

ROLAND:      I’ve got it. Monosyllabism!

HOST: You’re right, Roland! Yes, Mike is suffering from monosyllabism, the pathological disinclination never to use more than one word at a time. Isn’t that right, Mike?

MIKE: Yes.

HOST: Yes. Works. Every time. And so Mike, I’m afraid you don’t get tonight’s star prize, the suicide pill, but we can give you the booby prize, which is a free ten-week course in public speaking. Isn’t that marvellous?

MIKE: No.

HOST: Thank you for joining us, Mike.

(applause. PIM and ROLAND congratulate each other)