it'll be all right, dear. it isn't as serious as it sounds.
too bad you don't have a pill for bullshit.
how do you think of it?
oh.
rupert, before you get too engrossed in your research on scotch as a cure for aging, don't you think you'd better phone elaine's and cancel our dinner reservations?
up yours, herr doktor book salesman. will the demands of your medical practice allow you to call elaine's or shall i?