[18th century laboratory. Two old school scientists in suits, one of whom holds a small lab vessel to the light]
WILBERFORCE: Bartholomew, I fancy we can improve our formula no more. This unguent, this lotion of our own invention may well be the greatest medical breakthrough of the century!
BARTHOLOMEW: The 18th century.
WILBERFORCE: Yes, obviously, the 18th century. Damned funny thing to say. Before we release Dr Martel's Extraordinary Rejuvenating Elixir to the world, we must complete clinical trials.
BARTHOLOMEW: Indeed. How else can we prove the veracity of our creation, than by testing it on subjects who might provide empirical evidence of its efficacy, so that none could ever reasonably question the extraordinariness of our elixir's rejuvenating qualities?
WILBERFORCE: Quite. That was my point. Are you sure you're quite alright, Bartholomew?
BARTHOLOMEW: Sorry. I didn't have my breakfast brandy this morning.
WILBERFORCE: What? But it's the most important brandy of the day, man! Anyway, I have arranged for subjects to be identified from within the city-
BARTHOLOMEW: London.
WILBERFORCE: Of course, London.
BARTHOLOMEW: *Eighteenth century* London.
WILBERFORCE: For God's sake, will you give it a bastard rest?
BARTHOLOMEW: Beg pardon, Wilberforce.
WILBERFORCE: It is time to meet the people who shall help inscribe our medical creation in the hallowed tomes of history. [Walks over to interior door, and raps it twice with the head of his cane. 2 grubby looking GRAVE ROBBERS enter with huge sacks]
BARTHOLOMEW: Ah, gentlemen. Allow me to explain. You simply apply our salve to your flanks and haunches once a day - perhaps around the time of your evening brandy - and after -
WILBERFORCE: No, Bartholomew. These are not the men who shall test our drug.
BARTHOLOMEW: But you said...
WILBERFORCE: I know what I said. Gentlemen.
[The ROBBERS dump the sacks on the table, roughly. An arm falls from one of them]
BARTHOLOMEW: Wilberforce, is this what I think it is?
WILBERFORCE: Of course, Bartholomew; where else do we get our experimental subjects, than by the trade of these delightful...entrepeneurs.
BARTHOLOMEW: [Stage whispering to imagined gallery] They're 18th century graverobbers.
ROBBER A: What'd 'e say?
WILBERFORCE: Oh, don't mind him, he's been at it all morning. So, gentlemen, can you supply us with 100 subjects?
ROBBER B: An 'undred? Lor', it'll take a few days.
BARTHOLOMEW: No matter. And will you ensure that they are given the medicament in question?
ROBBER B: Alright.
BARTHOLOMEW: But furthermore, that some are not?
ROBBER A: Err, yes, if you like.
WILBERFORCE: But don't tell us which! We mustn't know!
ROBBER B: As you wish.
BARTHOLOMEW: And they mustn't know either!
ROBBER B: That...should be fine.
WILBERFORCE: And give some of them a placebo that does nothing.
ROBBER A: I suppose.
WILBERFORCE: Give them some of Professor Brancombe's Marvellous Revivifying Admixture.
BARTHOLOMEW. Oh, God, yes, that crap's awful. Couldn't revivify a goose.
WILBERFORCE: But don't tell us.
ROBBER B: Alright.
BARTHOLOMEW: And don't tell them!
WILBERFORCE: And then, gentlemen, you must correlate the data and provide us a visual representation of the results, indicating any major trends and conclusions that can be drawn therefrom.
ROBBER B: I suppose.
WILBERFORCE: And error bars.
ROBBER A: Bloody Norah, error bars? It's a lot of work for ten bob.
ROBBER B: Let's go and take our business to the art school, they just want bodies and togas.
ROBBER A: Yeah. An' they give you sherry.
[ROBBERS exit, with their sacks]
BARTHOLOMEW: Oh dear, Wilberforce. That wasn't very successful.
WILBERFORCE: No matter, no matter. Here's 5 guineas, Bartholomew, make haste to Smithfield butchers' market and procure us some new subjects.
BARTHOLOMEW: Animal testing! But that's immoral!
WILBERFORCE: Not in the 18th century!
BARTHOLOMEW: Oh yes, I was forgetting.
WILBERFORCE: And fetch me some brandy, would you? I feel a sniffle coming on.
