KENNY: More than a bit of bruising, mate. Something’s buggered in me eye.

ROSS: In your eye? Shit, I hope it’s not something serious. Shit, I’m sorry, mate. We better get you to a doctor, quick smart.

He moves over to KENNY to examine the eye. SIMMONDS moves across and pushes ROSS aside.

SIMMONDS: Which eye?

KENNY: The left one.

SIMMONDS: [looking at it] Put your hand over your right eye.

KENNY does so.

Can you see anything?

KENNY: No.

SIMMONDS swings a punch at KENNY that stops just short of his face. KENNY, hand still over his right eye, reels backward in anticipation of the blow. He nearly topples off his chair.

SIMMONDS: You’ll have to get up earlier in the morning than that to catch me out, Carter.

KENNY: [defensively] I can see a little bit out of it, but something’s still buggered in there. Me eyeball feels like it’s pressing against me skull. Something’s buggered!

SIMMONDS: Mild concussion, Carter. Do you feel nauseous?

KENNY: Bloody oath.

SIMMONDS: Yes. You’ll have a hell of a head tomorrow. No worse than a bad hangover, though.

KENNY: There’s somethin’ wrong in me gut too.

ROSS: [anxiously] Shit. Whereabouts? Where’s it hurt?

KENNY: [pointing to his side] In there.

ROSS: Jesus, Sarge. We better get him to a doctor.

KENNY: Yeah. Get me to a quack.

SIMMONDS: I think you’d be better off it you went straight to bed and rested, Carter.

KENNY: Yeah. I bet you do. The last thing you want is for me to see a doctor. Well, I’ll tell you what. If you don’t get me one right away, it’ll be the worse for you, because I’m going to get to a doctor one way or another. Don’t you worry. I’m going to get a certified list of every bit of damage that you pricks have done to me.

SIMMONDS: Have you got any witnesses?

KENNY: How did I get like this, eh? Run into a bloody door?

SIMMONDS: Went down the pub to drown your sorrows, I’d say. Got a bit sorry for yourself and started to throw your weight around.

KENNY: Fiona’ll testify.

SIMMONDS: What? That I gave you a few love pats.

KENNY: She knew I was going to get bashed.

SIMMONDS: Without a doubt, Carter, you’d be the last of the world’s great optimists. Your wife ups and leaves you without a word of warning and you think she’ll get up and testify for the sake of a few of your bruises.

KENNY: She’ll testify.

SIMMONDS: Look, Carter, I’ll strike a bargain. If I had anything of the gambler about me, I wouldn’t. Believe me. The odds are with us, boy, make no mistake about that, because it takes an awful lot of bruises for the SM to take the word of a shitkicker like you against two members of the force. Nevertheless, I’ll strike a bargain.

KENNY: Not interested.

SIMMONDS: Believe me, Carter, if I had the trace of the gambler in me make-up, I’d walk out right now. Do you want to hear me out?