A hospital ward reception features a desk and three doors. One leads into the closet, another into the patient's room, and the third is the main entrance to the ward, which has a buzzer for anyone wishing to enter.

As the scene opens 'Cherish', by Madonna, is playing on the radio in the background. The two characters are sitting on office swivel chairs be hind the desk. The room is lit by fluorescent light. The heart monitor, which can be heard from the patient's room, is beeping periodically.

BEN is moving around on the chair whilst MIKE is completing his paperwork.

The door leading to the patience room is held open.

BEN: Mike?

MIKE: Yes?

BEN: Do you think our cars will be frozen in the morning?

MIKE: (continues working) Yes, maybe.

BEN: Hmmm.

MIKE continues working.

BEN: Mike?

MIKE: What, what is it?

BEN: Uhhh …

Door buzzer sounds.

BEN: It's the Weasel.

MIKE: Don't let him in.

Door buzzer sounds twice.

BEN: I have to, Mike, or he won't go away. (BEN rises to open the door. He returns with a man known as the WEASEL)

The WEASEL starts walking round the room taking stock of hospital supplies. He counts the tacks on the notice board, checks the items in the closet, and finally approaches the desk and starts counting the pens in front of MIKE. MIKE continues with his paperwork and does not acknowledge him.

WEASEL: ... 6, 7, 8 – any more in the desk, Mike?

MIKE: Nope, that's your lot.

WEASEL: (the anger is building up inside of him but he calms himself down) There must be more than this. You got two boxes last week. Check your drawer. There must be another box in there.

MIKE: (hardly looks up from his work) Can't you see I'm busy?

WEASEL: We're all busy. If you can't be bothered I'll have a look myself. (he leans over the front of the desk and begins to open the drawer)

MIKE: (MIKE prevents the drawer from opening with his hand) No, it's my drawer; I'll look. (he looks at the WEASEL, who steps away. MIKE quickly opens and closes the drawer) There's nothing there.

WEASEL: You hardly looked!

MIKE: I'm telling you there's nothing in there, so please let me carry on with my work.

WEASEL: (getting angrier but trying to calm himself) You didn't check properly. You barely opened the drawer for a second. You have to let me look, as there must be a box of pens missing. (panicking) I cannot complete the stocktake without finding them.

MIKE: Wow, wow, wow! Calm down, take it easy!

Brief pause.

MIKE: Ben! Come over here a minute (MIKE opens the drawer) do you see a box of pens in there?

BEN: Nope, not a bean.

MIKE: (looks at the WEASEL) Satisfied?

WEASEL: But they can't be gone. Can't be! Are you sure they're not there?

MIKE: Ben!

BEN: No pens, I'm afraid. We must have gone through a lot this time. Sorry I couldn't help.

MIKE: Don't worry, Ben, it's not your fault. I'm the one with the problem.

The WEASEL starts to lose his temper.

WEASEL: When I was asked to make a budget for the year I did not budget £400 for pens. I just didn't, Mike. How did you go through so many and why do you need those special pens? They cost a fortune. Why not use regular pens?

MIKE: I need them. I can't write without them, as I have osteoporosis. I told you that. It's a disability.

WEASEL: But that doesn't answer my question. Why do you use so many?

MIKE: It's all the reports they make us complete. You have to document everything. Even if a patient farts you need to write a report. It's shit but that's what it's like. Red tape, if you understand what I'm saying.

WEASEL: But none of the other departments use so many.

MIKE: Bullshit! Then they're not doing their job properly. This patient needs special care. You know that.

WEASEL: But the other departments have more patients. Mike, you're making me look bad. The budget is …

MIKE: I'm sure you will find some way to cut back. You always do.

WEASEL: (angry) That's not the point! We should not be spending £400 on pens. You don't need special pens. The budget doesn't allow it.

MIKE: Screw the budget and stop wasting my time! (returns to completing his report)

WEASEL: Screw the budget? The budget keeps you in the job, Mister.

MIKE: Ben, get him the fuck out of here. I can't talk to this idiot anymore.

BEN: Come on, mate, you've been here long enough. Haven't you got work to do? (BEN starts moving him towards the door) I think there's some loo roll on the fourth floor that needs changing. Nurses in sync, and all that.

WEASEL: Mike, the department will hear about this. You can't keep talking to me in that way. I am an administrator.

MIKE: I have a message for the department. (MIKE raises his middle finger in WEASEL'S direction)

The WEASEL walks out and closes the door.

BEN and MIKE look at each other and burst into laughter.