For some reason this scene from an episode of Rumpole of the Bailey has been on continual loop in my mind since yesterday.
Rumpole’s finishing up a physical with his Scots doctor, McAndrew, who doesn’t like what he’s heard of Rumpole’s eating habits or seen when Rumpole stepped on the scale.
Doctor McAndrew: The point is, do you want to drop down dead?
Rumpole (after a long, meditative pause): Sometimes.
Rumpole: (Gloomily) When I’m doing a hopeless rape, say, under the icy stare of Judge Gerald Graves. (Brightens.) Ah! But on the other hand, when I’ve got the medical evidence on the run and the jury on my side, on those days, I can tell you, Horace Rumpole could live forever!
McAndrew: Well, he won’t.
Rumpole (the gloom returning): No…
McAndrew: How long you do depends on the diet I’m going to give you. No wine…
McAndrew: No meat. Fish. Eggs. Bread. Butter. Milk. Sugar. Or pastry of any kind.
Rumpole: I see. And how do I manage without food?
McAndrew: Thin-O-Vite! A fat free energy cereal. (Pleased with himself, as if he owns stock in the company) Mix it with water and have as much as you like. Make a pig of yourself on it.
Rumpole: Ho ho. I can’t wait.
McAndrew: I expect to see a lot less of you in a month’s time.
---from Rumpole and the Quality of Life.