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The radio plays ‘I’m in Love’.
John: ‘Nothing better than British country and western.’
Paul: ‘Ringo likes this.’
Ringo: ‘What? I can’t hear.’
Paul: ‘Ringo has trouble with his ears.’ (To Ringo): ’I say you love this song.’
Ringo: ‘I love the words.’
Paul (in heavy Liverpool accent): ‘He loves the words. Have they brought your grapes then?’
Ringo: ‘No, they didn’t bother today.’
Paul: ‘We brought you a couple of eggs.’
Ringo: ‘Put them in here and the nurse will take them and do them for me.’
Paul: ‘Have you got your potty?’
Ringo: ‘It’s in there in the bath-tub. You’ve changed your hair since you last came to see me.’
Paul: ‘Well, keep a fresh mind about all things.’
There is a moment of silence. Then Paul says that people from the Dingle in Liverpool have a basic fear of hospitals and always seem to bring people eggs.
‘You see,’ says John, ‘psychologically they still regard the egg as something precious from the harder years. The egg is a sort of symbol of fertility and wealth.’
John notices that the radio has been turned off and asks who did it. Both Ringo and Paul deny it and John says he saw Ringo do it.
Paul: ‘Tension is mounting.’
John: ‘Tension all shipping.’
Paul: ‘I once knew a fellow on the Dingle who had two dads. He used to call them number one dad and number two dad. Now apparently number one dad wasn’t nice. He used to throw the boy on the fire – which can develop a lot of complexes in a young lad.’
Ringo: ‘I remember my uncle putting the red-hot poker on me, and that’s no lie. He was trying to frighten me.’
Paul: ‘Tell me, Ringo, do all your relatives go around applying red hot pokers to you?’
John: ‘It’s the only way they can identify them.’
Paul: ‘You see, Ringo comes from a depressed area.’
John: ‘Some people call it the slums.’
Ringo: ‘No, the slums are farther.’"