INT. OFFICE.
TWO MEN WEARING WHITE COATS SIT AT A TABLE. A PHONE RINGS.
MAN 1:
Messrs Samson and Barneycrack, mental health removals. How may I help you?
VOICE: (sobbing)
It's my husband. He's flipped out, went doolally. I just caught him eating spaghetti upside down.
MAN 1:
If he needs a good sectioning madam, we're the men to do it. We've over thirty years experience in the lunacy field.
VOICE:
You won't hurt him?
MAN:
Not at all. We'll have him all wrapped up, nice and snug in a padded straitjacket.
VOICE:
Oh, ok... you'll sedate him too then?
MAN:
Of course but we tend to opt for a more holistic and tranquil approach.
VOICE:
What? You use tranquiliser darts?
MAN:
No, no. If you plump for our deluxe package we turn up with a barber's quartet. There's nothing quite like vocal harmonies to calm a madman.
VOICE:
Are you sure that will work?
MAN:
If it doesn't we put a cattle prod to his temple.
PHONE LINE GOES DEAD.
MAN:
The cheek of some people, I didn't even get to the aftercare part.