Gordon: Nurse!
Nurse!
[Sigh]
Nurse: Yes, Gordon Ramsay?
Gordon: Nurse, what do you call this?
Nurse: That's your dinner, sir.
Gordon: What am I pointing at?
Meatloaf?
Gordon: You call that meatloaf?
It's practically raw.
It's barely a loaf of any description at all.
Nurse: I didn't make it.
Gordon: It doesn't hold together.
It's all crumbly.
Look, what happens when I try to pick it up?
It disintegrates.
Nurse: If you're unhappy with your meal, we can... Gordon: And the sauce?
Is that maple syrup?
Did somebody get the breakfast and dinner sauces mixed up?
Nurse: We can get you a new one, but I don't
think that will be up to your standards either.
Gordon: Look, look, I threw up.
That's how disgusting this meatloaf is.
I've had some bad meals at some awful restaurants, but this, this takes the cake.
This is an intensive care unit, not a restaurant.
Nurse: Wait, wait, you threw up?
That's not good.
We need to get some fluids into you.
Gordon: Well, it'll be impossible for me to keep down a crumbly meat
patty coated in an imitation maple syrup at dinner time.
Nurse: Sir, I hate to bring this up, but don't you think that
your nausea has anything to do with your chemotherapy?
What?
Nurse: The doctor told you that the treatments would upset your stomach.
Gordon: Well, that's terrible treatment.
I give it one star.
Nurse: Sir, you have stage three pancreatic cancer.
You may not realize it, but you are fighting for your life.
And I don't mean to alarm you, but it really is touch and go.
If you spend all your energy shouting at me about
meatloaf, I don't know what's going to happen.
Gordon: You know what?
You make me sick.
[Gordon vomits]