Conversations with Maurice

My father was training for the world triathlon championships when he was hit by a car, and broke his leg in seven places. After he came out of hospital, he told me what had happened to him in there. I did not believe him. None of us did, it sounded too absurd. We blamed it on the painkillers. But then, in Newcastle University's medical library, I happened across Eugen Bleuler’s Dementia Praecox. I opened the book more or less at random, and was amazed by what I read. It seemed that my father may have been telling the truth after all. So I wrote this play which recounts, more or less, what he told me.