SFX
DOOR OPENING
DOCTOR:
Come in. Sit down. It's Mr and Mrs X, isn't it?
MRS S:
Er, well. I'm married to Mr X – but I'm actually Mrs Simpkins, Doctor.
DOCTOR:
Mhmm. And what's the problem, Mrs Simpkins?
MRS S:
Well, it's my husband. He's... well, show him, Nigel. Take off your scarf, hoodie and sunglasses.
SFX:
GRUNTING AND GROANING WITH SOUND OF MATERIAL BEING REMOVED
MRS S (half gasp, half sob):
You see? It's hideous! It's like his face has been cut up into little pieces. He looks like a monster.
DOCTOR:
Hm, yes. That's quite normal. There's nothing to worry about.
MRS S:
Normal? But... but what's happened to him?
DOCTOR:
Don't worry Mrs Simpkins. He's just been pixelated.
MRS S:
Pixa-what?
DOCTOR:
Pixelated. Tell me, is your husband a grass?
MRS S:
Sorry?
DOCTOR:
A grass? A snitch? A rat-fink? Stool pigeon, you know?
MRS S:
I don't understand?
DOCTOR (Losing patience):
Look, have the police been around to see him?
MRS S (Proudly):
Oh, well. Yes, he's actually been helping them with their enquiries, haven't you Nigel?
DOCTOR:
There you are. Mystery solved, Mrs Simpkins. Now if you-
MRS S:
But what can be done? I'm really worried.
DOCTOR:
There's really nothing to worry about. He's obviously not that important or he would have gone on the Witness Protection Programme, been given a new identity and you'd both be living the life of Riley at the tax payers' expense. No, Mr X is just a bit of a toe-rag who will soon be forgotten and the pixelation will quickly disappear along with any whiff of notoriety he may have enjoyed.
MR X (distorted and monotone voice)
Oi! I'm not a toe-rag..
MRS S:
Oh, that's another problem, Doctor. He doesn't sound like himself.
DOCTOR:
That's just an actor's voice to protect his anonymity. And quite frankly, not a very decent one with that scurrilous lack of inflection. Now really, Mrs Simpkins, I'm expecting my next patient, Mr Brown who's in desperate need of a repeat prescription for anti-depressants.
ENDS