Not sure about this one - it makes me laugh but I don't know if it's a bit peurile, even for me. The idea is he's a returning sketch character who we'd see in a variety of situations, not just the clinic.
Anyway, comments welcomed.
OCD VD DOCTOR
1. INT. STD CLINIC SURGERY. DAY.
DOCTOR HARRIS IS IN HIS VD CLINIC SURGERY, FRANTICALLY SCRUBBING HIS HANDS IN THE SINK WITH A BRILLO PAD.
DOCTOR HARRIS:
Germs…die you bastards…die…
HE PRODUCES A RUBBER MALLET AND BEGINS HITTING HIS HAND WITH IT.
DOCTOR HARRIS:
Die!
A KNOCK ON THE DOOR. STARTLED, DOCTOR HARRIS QUICKLY COMPOSES HIMSELF, RETURNING TO HIS DESK.
DOCTOR HARRIS:
Come!
A MAN (STEVE) WALKS IN SHEEPISHLY. DOCTOR HARRIS' LIP CURLS IN DISGUST.
DOCTOR HARRIS:
Take a seat.
HE GOES TO SIT.
DOCTOR HARRIS:
Not that one! It's just been sterilized!
STEVE:
(POINTING TO ANOTHER CHAIR) There?
DOCTOR HARRIS:
Yes. The unclean one.
A QUICK SHOT OF THE CHAIR, ACCOMPANIED BY AN OMINOUS MUSICAL STING.
STEVE PULLS THE CHAIR UP AND SITS.
DOCTOR HARRIS:
So what seems to be the problem?
STEVE:
Well…it's a bit embarrassing really. I've got this itchy rash…(POINTING) down there.
DOCTOR HARRIS:
Oh Christ…
HE PRODUCES A SQUIRTY SPRAY DISINFECTANT BOTTLE AND GIVES HIMSELF A GOOD MISTING.
STEVE:
Are you alright?
DOCTOR HARRIS:
Yes, fine, fine. This rash…has it been seeping…(HE CAN'T BRING HIMSELF TO SAY THE WORD AND SPELLS IT)…P.U.S.?
STEVE:
Pus?
DOCTOR HARRIS GAGS AND NODS.
STEVE:
Erm…no, I don't think so.
DOCTOR HARRIS:
Oh thank God. I can't do pus. I just can't. Right then…I suppose I'd better take a look. Pop your trousers down.
HE STANDS AND DROPS HIS TROUSERS.
STEVE:
(LOOKING DOWN AT HIS CROTCH) So…what do you think?
CUT BACK TO DOCTOR HARRIS TO REVEAL HE'S GOT A PAPER BAG OVER HIS HEAD.
DOCTOR HARRIS:
I'm not looking at it! Describe it to me.
STEVE:
Well…it's sort of red…
DOCTOR HARRIS:
Oh God…(MISTS HIMSELF)
STEVE:
Flakey…
DOCTOR HARRIS:
Oh shit, shit, shit…(MISTS HIMSELF MORE)
STEVE:
And a bit crusty round the edges…
DOCTOR HARRIS:
(MISTING LIKE A MAN POSSESSED) Enough! Trousers up! Trousers up damn you!
STEVE QUICKLY PULLS HIS TROUSERS UP AND SITS DOWN AS DOCTOR HARRIS REMOVES THE BAG FROM HIS HEAD.
STEVE:
So, do you know what it is?
DOCTOR HARRIS:
(QUICKLY WRITING HIM A PRESCRIPTION) Yes, it's cock germs. It's always cock germs. Dirty, shameful cock germs. Here. Take this and get out. And for pity's sake stop scratching!
STEVE REMOVES HIS HAND FROM HIS PANTS AND TAKES THE PRESCRIPTION.
STEVE:
Sorry. Well…thanks for this. Bye.
HE HOLDS HIS HAND OUT, SHAKES THE DOCTOR'S HAND AND LEAVES. HE SUDDENLY REALISES WHAT HE'S DONE AND STARES AT HIS HAND IN HORROR.
DOCTOR HARRIS:
(HORRIFIED WHISPER) Cock…germs…
WITH HIS OTHER HAND HE REACHES BELOW HIS DESK AND PRODUCES AN AXE.
END SKETCH.