I'd like to do something for the Royal Jubilee. Some little act of personal celebration.
Why don't tha' jump?
THUMP Ow!
Will people realise this is for the Jubilee? Mightn't they think you're just hitting him with your hat?
It's ridiculous. He's the only one I ever want to hit with me hat.
I don't know why, unless it's because I haven't got a brick handy.
It's a bit of a drag. Coming away up here to get your head thumped.
When you've climbed up here, and you see the world laid out below,
you wonder why you ever left the sandwiches on the kitchen table!
Hit 'im! Aah!
I wonder why they call it plaster of Paris?
When I broke my arm, they got mine from a cupboard in Huddersfield.
I like it. What?
Plaster of Huddersfield!
Don't encourage him. Just let him make the creepy-crawlies go "eugh!"
Where would you go if you had money?
To sleep, for five minutes. I'd like to see Leningrad.
Leningrad?
What's wrong wi' Leningrad?
It's in Russia, that's what's wrong!
Oh, my God! All these weeks I've been passing humbugs to a communist!
Stop leaping about, Foggy. Lie down.
You're taking it very calmly.
Oh, for goodness' sake, Compo,
reassure him that you've not been passing his humbugs on to Moscow!
Word of honour...
comrade!
Relax, Foggy. You have not been supplying comforts for the forces of the Warsaw Pact. Get down!
Huh! ..Hey, did you know Rasputin came from Chesterfield?
I think Russia must be like living in the cold store of the Co-op.
I bet they've got their own bigger and better humbugs, any road.
What?
People's Democratic Humbugs!
Can you hear that, man? I should think they could hear YOU in Moscow!
I'm trying to snooze. I have no patience with people who deny the British boiled sweet's superiority.
Why Leningrad?
I fancied Stalingrad, really, but they changed the name. I couldn't find it on the map.
You've been studying maps of Russia!
Down the library. Education is a wonderful thing!
Siberia's full of folk who couldn't keep their fingers still.
It's a great language to swear in.
Even muttering "Vladivostok" in some pubs round here could get your head invited into a vicelike grip.
They need a great language to swear in. They've got a lot to swear AT.
I went to a council meeting once and asked for a racecourse.
Didn't do me much good though. I think it's time we had a revolution.
Arthur Scargill's got his face on everything. Haven't we had one?
The trouble with these revolutions in the name of freedom is how soon they make it compulsory for all.
May I remind you that this is Jubilee year?
SNIFFS
What's up wi' 'im?
Looks to me like the exit of a man of principle. Righteousness seems to give people this funny walk.
Well. Looks like he's gone, then.
Clutching his humbugs!
I think you've just restructured your image in his eyes.
Can I think about that? He used to think of you as scruffy, but politically apathetic.
And how does he see me now?
Vanessa Redgrave.
Cheeky! That's what you are!
SQUEAKING OF FELT-TIP PENS
KNOCKING
Tovarich! Mushy peas-ski!
BOTH: Ny-aah!
Oh!
Ha-ha-ha!
One-ski! Two-ski! Three-ski!
BOTH SING
# OI! Da-da-da... #
# O-chi-chanya! Ochi-strastvie... #
Aah! Ha-ha-ha!
You spout Soviet propaganda, but when it gets to the pinch you can't even do a simple Russian dance!
I was watching you. You were making what we in the army called "a right ricket". Know why?
He thinks you can't do it cos you weren't self-supporting. Me knee went. Of course your knee went.
Do you know why it did? Because you've got true-blue English legs!
Oh! Ah! Rubbish! It's not rubbish. What's he talking about?
I think he's trying to tell you that your legs are Conservative!
What, both of them?
There is nothing about my anatomy that belongs to Maggie Thatcher!
Your legs are English. You may have a head stuffed with Russian rubbish, but when it comes to the crunch...
And my crunch isn't Tory, either!
Your legs refuse to be dragooned into any kind of Soviet Terpsichore.
Your legs are true-blue English.
It's the duty of every patriotic Englishman, in this Jubilee year,
to offer his services to whatever local celebrations are planned.
Besides, we've nothing else to do. I was gonna bake. I'm not going to church! You don't have to.
Why are we going to see the vicar? He's in charge of local events.
Smarten yourself up! You look like a second-hand Brillo pad!
I bet we end up in church!
DING-DONG
You got a bad conscience? No!
Bet you wish you'd gone straight home more often, instead of loitering around Audrey Singleton!
Good day, ma'am. We'd like to see the vicar.
Goodness! Just one moment. I'll see if there's anything in the poor box.
We came to volunteer our services for the Jubilee, in any capacity.
Oh, dear! I'm really more at home with the Mothers' Union.
Tha' has got a poor box, then, eh? ..Fancy!
WHEEZES AND COUGHS
Ooh! If we could just see the vicar, madam.
Yes, do come in, where it's warm. Can he manage the step?
He's in the rudest of health, madam!
Brave little chap!
Thank you.
You can wait in here. My husband won't be long. He's a very busy man.
And he lost a verger last week.
He has such a lot to do.
He has someone with him at the moment. A fertiliser representative.
I'm sure that's what he said. A fertiliser representative.
COMPO COUGHS
Brave little chap!
There's chairs all round you.
Ah, yes! Jolly useful arrangement.
Please sit down. Let me take your stick and hat. Thank you. And... No!
COUGHS Chairs!
Ee-ee-ee!
Why don't you come and make yourself comfy in THIS chair?
What's wrong with THAT one? Sit! Oh!
Is he all right? In prime condition, madam! Oh!
So THAT'S where it's been! Please, sit down.
Wednesdays I like best. Just a few...
Gerald... Gerald really works far too hard.
And, er, the roof is always a problem. Yes.
Oh, have you ever been depressed by a roof? Er, no.
And of course it becomes more and more difficult to find anyone to ring the bells.
No. If it wasn't for Mrs Crabtree, I don't know what we'd do.
Oh, so that's where it's been! Hee-hee! Ha-ha-ha!
Thank you. Thank you so much.
It's the tea and buns, you know. The interminable tea and buns!
Come and sit down! You feel such a fool clutching a strange doorknob! It just leapt into me hand!
It's the "internal" tea and buns, tha' knows! The "internal" tea and buns! The vicar's lost his verger!
And there's no-one to ring me bells! No-one at all! Shut up!
I didn't bring you here to show me up! Sit down!
I want none of your Leningrad practices here!
NO! Pshaw!
Life's a real rave-up in the Church of England, in't it?
I wonder if the churches will go self-service! What?
Well, everything else has.
And all the churches are busy dismantling their history.
Breaking their necks to find some modern image.
But what if it turns out to be a graven image?
Now, if I was God, I'd be leaning very heavily on some of these racy, modern ideas.
But then, I wouldn't have a black plastic mac.
I don't believe in it. You mustn't say that in here! You heard her on about the roof.
That's not going to stop anything.
We're only waiting to see the vicar. Now, you believe in HIM, don't you?
Well, I've seen 'im! Isn't it marvellous!
Can't believe in the supreme power of the universe, only in his fairy godmother, the national assistance!
# Tie a yellow ribbon Round the old oak... #
Oops!
Now do you believe in him?
That's not 'im, is it? It doesn't look like anybody from round here.
He was wearing his sword in a very unsoldierly fashion.
It was somebody dressed up! I bet that's what they all say, if they've seen a supernatural vision.
I bet God gets right fed up of laying on some spectacular event,
then hearing unimaginative twonks say, "It was somebody dressed up."
It was an impostor! He didn't carry himself like a military man! Looked like him from Cooper Street.
It was a warning. Wearing 'is nom de plume.
I don't find it at all surprising.
Of all the angels and cherubs God could send here, to this vicarage,
there WOULD be one just like him from Cooper Street!
Rubbish! Wearing his nom de plume. And singing "Tie A Yellow Ribbon"?!
Very badly. That's how you'd expect a suddenly-earthbound angel to sing.
Earthbound?! He sounded eggbound!
I never like to hear a serviceman singing popular songs in uniform.
He weren't no angel, saying "oops!" Who ever heard an angel say "oops"? And it weren't a ghost, he clanked.
His about-turn was the sloppiest it's been my misfortune to witness.
Obviously a novice in military arts.
Advertising. Nor did I like the lack of shine on his baldric. What?
I bet he were advertising summat. "Build your own dungeon"?! No! Like the Soapy Suds man! I've seen 'im!
Your neck hasn't! It's filthy! My neck is that colour naturally.
Naturally - if you give it a miss!
The Soapy Suds man wears these long, white silk stockings. His body's covered in a big box of detergent.
I saw him once in Huddersfield. Huddersfield?!
And when I saw him in Huddersfield, I thought, "Hello, hello!
"Who's this stupid great twallop?"
Not you, vicar! You wished to see me?
Oh! Er, oh! Yes, to offer our services, padre.
In any suitable capacity. COUGHS
For the Jubilee. Can he...?
Have no fear. He's quite sound. He can perform simple manual tasks.
Hey, what about my back? While I myself am willing to accept any supervisory responsibility.
There are some defectors from the pageant committee. There's a meeting this evening.
Sorry, it's my domino night.
I've just changed me domino night!
I'll have them there, padre. Leave it to me! Splendid! That's taken a weight off my shoulders.
Oh!
You never take me dancin' any more!
You go wi' Mrs Thingy.
You always find plenty time to play golf.
You know, you used to do the most lovely valeta!
Keep your voice down! IT IS DOWN!
Not far enough! Would you rather I spoke with a squeaky little voice?
Let me hear it! Try me! I'm not rushing into an important decision! You rotten devil!
When are you gonna look at me sink?
Any time you arrange to sink, love, I'll gladly look!
You think more of your golf than of me. You'll be sorry!
NOISE OF MACHINERY
Aah!
It won't hurt you to give up an evening.
We don't even know what they want us to do. It doesn't matter. A volunteer's a volunteer.
Unless, Foggy, he happens to be associated with you, in which case it's more a matter of conscription.
My natural role is decision-maker.
Lend us a couple of quid, Foggy. Out of the question. He made that decision fast enough!
Hmm. Well, it looks like the work of the giant golf moth, to me.
By 'eck, Sid, tha's married a powerful determined lass.
Don't sit there thinking I'm exceptionally brave. He's so modest.
You hear the old bugle and charge.
Next thing, you're married to something like the Goering Division.
I miss the old bugle. All right for you. Your war finished in '45.
My beggar had only just started. And the lead's still flying.
ALL: Eugh!
Who's paying?
All right, come on, get the purse out. Sid is in no mood for credit.
What's the date? The fourth. Right. Four teas.
At 5p... Hey-up! He's off again, balancing his budgie!
Budget, little goblin, not budgie.
I prefer "balancing his budgie". I like it.
One has visions of the chancellor, covered in tiny feathers and blobs of... Don't encourage him!
DOOR SLAMS
I'm just going round to Mavis's, to see if she can fit me in as soon as we close. I shan't be a minute.
Oh, my God! That's done it. She's gone to get her hair done.
What's wrong with that? It means she plans to get me out - dancing!
Ha ha! Dancing! She wouldn't! She would. Old time. Rotten valeta.
Imagine me mates at the golf club!
It's simple. He can come with us.
Another volunteer for the Jubilee celebrations. Even Ivy can't object.
You can't see the portrait up there. That's got to come down as well. We'll have bunting all across there,
but we'll put this Union Jack up. ..Taking them to the storeroom? Good.
PIANO MUSIC I want everything cleared by tonight.
Where are you going? Chairs on the cart.
- Has anyone seen...? - Be with you in a minute.
Keep that piano down. ..Leave those in the yard, will you?
Tell Mrs Templeton we've found the string. The string has been found.
Please, everyone, keep your ears peeled for walking sticks.
No, it'll have to come down. It'll have to come down.
No, no, no! Those stay in, leave them in, love.
Isn't it marvellous! There's always some bossy idiot taking charge.
He's got no managerial skill! Don't let's have a mutiny before we start.
Let's start at the bottom on this one occasion.
The new recruits! Thank goodness! We need more people for the man-of-war.
Can any of you drive a tractor? Er, well...
Never mind. I'll find you a driver.
What are we doing? He hasn't a clue!
Does it really matter, so long as it's for the Queen?
Ready, crew. Come along, we're late.
Hello, sailor! Get off! Will you stop!
HAMMERING
"What does it matter?" he says! For the Queen!
Here, please. Can I have Jolly Jack Tar?
Jolly Jack Tar seems a bit upset, Foggy. I helped him escape trouble. You'd think he'd have a kind word.
He muttered some kind of word!
A nautical expression. Is it? Sounded like it.
Can I have the rest of you on deck?
Admiral! Could you stand prominently on the front...bows!
- We're not going out in public! - Of course!
It's high, isn't it? I didn't realise that ships were so high!
Stop complaining and come aboard!
You great un-seamanlike twallop!
EVERYTHING RATTLES
Steady, steady! Don't rock the boat!
Lydia! What are you doing?
- Nothing, dear. - Come here. YOU'LL have to drive.
Oh! I...I don't know whether I could, dear!
I...I'd love to try!
Bless you, Lydia.
Drive round the corner, and I shall wait there to get the full effect of this tableau.
ENGINE STARTS
You've got it, Lydia! Spot on, old thing!
Just give me a second, then wheel them round! After this rehearsal, they can help with fundraising!
Go, go, go, Lydia!
Stand back, Miss Cooper. The navy's on its way. They're coming round now, hearts of oak, God bless them!
No, no, no! I want more of the spirit of Trafalgar!
Turn the wheel!
Where's tha' going, Sid? Dancing!
Get going! Don't just stand there! Get help! Launch a lifeboat!
It must be very hard for vicars' wives to believe in religion.
When you're married to the salesman, you learn all the product's snags.
I wonder what they'll put on my gravestone?
Something very heavy, I hope!
What would you like on it?
Somebody else's name! Ha ha ha!