"OK, be gentle," Freddie says, as he leans in to see a patient that's asked to touch his big red nose.
"Ow!" he yelps, and the room giggles.
Freddie the Clown is visiting a ward at the Kingston Centre, a geriatric care and rehabilitation centre in Melbourne's south-east run by Monash Health.
It's part of a six-month trial with Clown Doctors Australia.
At first, these patients were not pleased with the idea.
"Initially, I thought a clown, ugh, great, you know," Sue says, rolling her eyes.
Three months into the trial, Freddie has won over Sue and the room in general.
"Now I think, 'Wow Freddie, you are really good. You make everyone happy'," says Sue.
But Freddie is far from your average joker.
The man behind the nose, David Wells, has had a 47-year career in performing arts, from treading the boards to busking the streets.
"When I'm out there entertaining, it's all about me," he says, pretending to strum an imaginary guitar.
"Here, it is different. It is about them. It's a collaboration."
Plus, he's undergone a one-year "clownternship" with Clown Doctors Australia.
Clownternships and care
About 100 clown doctors — or laughter care specialists — have this year visited more than 100,000 patients at hospitals and aged care facilities around Australia.
Clown Doctors Australia artistic director David Symons says they need "a strong performance background, sensitivity and empathy".
"We go through a long audition process and training process, to learn how to bring those skills effectively to the hospital settings," he says.
And then there's the "clownternship".
Essentially it comes down to connecting with the audience as individuals — meeting them where they are in their mental or physical state, and uplifting them.
"It might be small and gentle. It might be raucous and loud, but it is what that person needs now," Symons says.
The gig that gives back
In this room, where the oldest person is in her 90s, the audience wants some songs with a smile.
Freddie has performed Show Me the Way To Go Home and You Are My Sunshine with everyone — even hospital staff — joining in.
Michelle, who is in a wheelchair today, was also a skeptic early on.
"I didn't used to like clowns and then I met Freddie and he's turned me the other way," she says, giggling.
"He always remembers me. He also has a song made up for me.
"He remembers where I'm from, asks me questions that he incorporates in the song."
The ward's nurse unit manager, Ashley Southin, says the trial has been a resounding success so far, with the laughter contagious.
"It's made the ward more enjoyable," she says.
"I have a number of physios that are keen to join them and follow the clown doctors around.
"The patients, they look forward to it, and they love when the staff join in."
For the man behind the costume, it's also a highlight in a long career.
"It's meaningful, it's rewarding, it is also outrageously fun," Freddie says.
"I come home emotionally spent, because the stakes are high.
"It is an important situation to be in, and one of my favourite jobs of all time."
