(# INTRO TO MAIN THEME BEGINS QUIETLY)
(INTRO FADES)
I'd like to see the managing director please. Buffery's the name.
Just one moment... (CLICKS INTERCOM SWITCH)
Mr Ferret?
(FERRET) (OVER INTERCOM) With cream, please.
No, Mr Ferret.
But I always have cream. And sugar.
There's a Mr Buffery to see you.
Oh. Send him up, please.
Third floor, please.
Yes?
Yes.
(# MAIN 'RIMMER' THEME)
(KNOCKS ON DOOR)
(DOOR OPENS)
Mr Ferret?
Oooh!
(CHAIR SMASHES)
Just popped in to cancel our contract.
Good morning. You all right?
Mr, er...
- Rimmer, sir. 'Co-ordination'. - Ah, yes.
Keep it up. Vital work.
Thank you.
'Co-ordination'?
I'll read those figures back again.
That's, er...
two pounds to win on 'Lively Lady'
and, er... a fiver on 'The Groper'.
- Ah. - It's Mr Federmann, isn't it?
That's right. Yes.
Thank you.
(RIMMER) Mr Pumer?
Yes.
- Who are you? - Rimmer. 'Co-ordination'.
- Ah. - Please carry on.
Hello again, Mr Federmann.
Ah, hello.
(DOOR REFUSES TO LOCK)
(TOILET FLUSHES AFTER SEVERAL ATTEMPTS)
Ah, well. Back to the grindstone.
(RIMMER) It's, er – Mr, er...? - Crodder.
(RIMMER) ...Crodder.
(EMPHATICALLY) Crodder!
Is nothing sacred?
(CRODDER) Extraordinary thing just happened in the toilet.
I was just going in and there's a fellow there with a stop-watch.
That's Mr Rimmer. 'Co-ordination'.
Is he one of those ghastly time-and-motion people?
I think he's working for Mr Fairburn himself.
- Hello. - Oh, morning.
- Can't hang about. Lots to do. - Of course.
(TANYA) Mr Fromage and Mr Waring, Mr Ferret.
Ah.
(FERRET) Good morning...
Well, you've come about the advertising, I suppose?
Just over six months ago you undertook our new advertising campaign.
We heard from you for the first time yesterday.
You sent us some slogans for advertising our dog food.
Good.
We don't make dog food, Mr Ferret.
(EMPHATICALLY) We... make... humbugs.
Oh.
And you're not thinking of branching out into dog foods?
No.
(WITH MOUNTING ANGER) And if we were, we would want something
more original than “Woof makes doggies bounce with health!”
(RIMMER) We are working on a new presentation concept, Mr Waring.
Mr Ferret will have it ready next week.
One week it is. Make a note of that, Tanya.
(# TANGO 'LA CUMPARSITA' FROM RECORD PLAYER)
(STOP-WATCH CLICKS)
(PUMER) Tango... - Ah, yes.
My wife and I have been selected for the South-East.
Congratulations!
Thank you.
I practise in the coffee-break.
Of course.
I don't have coffee...
Good Lord! Well, coffee-break over.
(MUSIC COMES TO AN END)
(RIMMER) Thank you. - Fine.
(FERRET) Thank you, Tanya.
That will be all for now... I'm afraid.
All right, Mr Ferret.
(RIMMER) If it's alright by you, sir, I'll take over the office next door.
Oh, good. Yes.
Look, I tell you what – why don't you take it over?
Thank you.
Well, must be off.
- Time waits for no man. - Yes.
(TANYA YELPS IN SURPRISE)
(FERRET) What have you done to my water, Tanya?
(TANYA) The water board have cut it off, sir.
(FERRET) Whatever did we do to them? (TANYA) We never paid them, sir.
(FERRET) Money, money, money. Whatever's the world coming to?
See you in the pub, later.
(PUMER) 'Night, Mr Ferret. - Goodnight.
(TANYA) 'Night, Mr Ferret. - Goodnight.
(FERRET) They'll be cutting off the electricity next.
(FERRET GASPS AS HE BANGS HIS NECK)
(RIMMER) Hello.
(FERRET) Oh, Mr Rimmer.
I was just conducting a little experiment.
On the effect on office efficiency of total darkness.
(RIMMER) Oh, yes.
I shouldn't bother to tell Mr Fairburn.
He's a little out of touch with modern methods.
(CAT YOWLS)
(SLURRING WORDS) Good evening.
- Where have you been? - I've been to lots of places...
- Paris... Rome... - (IMPATIENTLY) Tonight?
Ah. Tonight I've been working late.
You come back here, reeking of sex and scent
with a love-bite on your neck, and you say you were working late!
It's not scent, my dear.
Nor is it a love-bite.
I've been washing my face in Coca-Cole... Cola.
When all the lights went out and I banged my neck on a fire...
extinguisher.
(DRUNKEN LAUGH)
(# 'RIMMER' THEME)
- Good morning, sir. - Good morning, Yvonne.
- Good morning, sir. - Good morning, Tanya.
You'll be working in my office this morning.
Thank you, sir.
(# TANGO – 'LA CUMPARSITA')
- Morning. - Morning, Mr Pumer.
(# 'RIMMER' THEME RESUMES)
- Good morning, Mr Rimmer. - Good morning, Mr Federmann.
(MUSIC ENDS)
- Any sign of Ferret yet, Tanya? - No, sir.
(FERRET) Good morning! (YVONNE) You're late, Mr Ferret...
(FERRET) Terrible traffic. Terrible traffic yesterday.
Just like last week.
(CRODDER) Can't stop. It's all go this morning. - Terrible traffic.
(CRODDER) Mr Rimmer's anxious to see you. - Ah, good.
(RIMMER) Mr Ferret! - Yes, ah...
Ha-ha. Didn't see you!
Sorry about the hole in the wall.
Terrible traffic today.
Have you got the results of the Wheety-Flakes survey?
Er... not as such. But I've got the one on boot polish.
(RIMMER) And what does it show?
Well, it shows, er...
...it shows that ninety percent of British families
don't like boot polish for breakfast.
Been some sort of a mix-up here with the questionnaires.
I'll go into it right away.
I'd rather you didn't.
Right. I'll...
...I'll not go into it.
(# PASTORAL FLUTE AND STRING MUSIC)
(BIRDS SINGING)
(RIMMER) I've got it all here, Mr Fairburn.
What? Who are you?
Rimmer, sir. It's the Business Efficiency report you commissioned.
Did no such thing! Never seen you before in my life.
(RIMMER) I must say your decision to investigate was very timely.
Well, that's what decisions should be.
Must have slipped my mind.
(FAIRBURN) I'm afraid my wife's been a bit under the weather.
(RIMMER) Nothing serious, I hope?
No, no. She'll linger on for quite a while yet.
I've got the report here if you'd like to see it, sir.
(FAIRBURN) It's a bit large...
Couldn't you give me a run-down? I'm rather busy today.
(RIMMER) Well, basically your firm is running
an annual deficit of seventy-five thousand pounds.
Seventy-five thousand pounds! My God!
Do you know the words that come to my mind?
No, sir. I don't know the words.
(FAIRBURN, SHOUTING) Fire Ferret!
Those are the words. Fire Ferret!
(TV COMMENTATOR) England now really in a commanding position...
...and the wicket is still playing absolutely perfectly...
(BUZZ OF INTERFERENCE)
...my goodness me, what a glorious exhibition...
(FAIRBURN, DISTANTLY) Fire Ferret! Those are the words.
Of course I know my way! Think I've never been here before?
...beautifully timed leg sweep, gone for four runs...
Let's get rid of him. Fire Ferret!
Ah, Mr Fairbum.
- Fairburn! - Fairburn, yes.
...and another leg sweep, and again it's gone for four runs...
We're doing, er, market research on people watching television on the cricket...
(FERRET) Yes.
Do sit down, Mr Creambun...
er, Fairburn.
Throw those files somewhere. Anywhere.
(FORCED NERVOUS LAUGHTER)
What are you laughing at, Ferret?
Nothing really. Just trying to break the ice.
(EMPHATICALLY) You're fired!
Well. Better be off, then.
One moment, Ferret!
Seventy-five thousand pounds, sir.
Seventy-five thousand pounds...
Seventy-five thousand pounds!
(FERRET) That is a lot.
You owe me a lot of money, Ferret,
and you will remain with this firm, working very hard
in a menial capacity, for a pittance
until such time as I've decided that you have worked off your debt!
Otherwise, it is P... R... I... S... O... N!
P... R... I...? Prison?
Good thinking.
I'm sorry about all that unpleasantness.
Why don't you take the afternoon off?
(RIMMER, INTO DICTAPHONE) Oh, and you'd better send off some money
to Oxfam, as well.
(TANYA) Mr Fromage and Mr Waring to see you, Mr Rimmer.
Good morning, Mr Fromage. Good morning, Mr Waring.
(BOTH) Good morning.
(RIMMER) Very nice to see you again.
Please sit down.
(RIMMER) Well, our new survey shows the reasons
for the declining sales of The Olde English Humbug.
You can be quite frank with us, Mr Rimmer. What does it say?
Basically, the consumer strongly dislikes the taste of your product.
Furthermore, its extreme hardness makes it almost impossible to eat.
- Very true. - Nobody knows this better
than us, Mr Rimmer.
I don't think there's any cause for worry, though.
With the right sort of campaign
we can make a virtue out of these defects.
(# STYLISH 'JET-SET' MUSIC)
(SMOOTH MASCULINE VOICEOVER) What's keeping him?
Why doesn't he come?
Suddenly she remembers her tube of Scorpios.
(# FEMALE CHORUS – Scorpio... Scorpio...)
(# Scorpio... Scorpio...)
The refreshing hardness
tingles on her tongue.
(# Scorpio... Scorpio...)
She doesn't need him any more.
Enjoy yourself
with a Scorpio.
(# Scorpio!)
Good God! Is that our old humbug?
(FERRET) Here's the coffee you asked for, sir.
(RIMMER) It was tea, Ferret.
Ah. Tea, was it?
Well, I think there may be some tea in it.
(TANYA) Good morning, Mr Rimmer.
(RIMMER) Morning, Tanya.
- Morning. - Morning, Mr Rimmer.
(PUMER) What are your plans for this week, sir?
(RIMMER) Please call me Michael. - Oh. Thank you, Michael.
This week, I thought we'd concentrate on sex.
- Oh. Good idea. - Yes!
I'd like to suggest an all-embracing probe
into British sexual habits.
Isn't that rather close to the wind?
(RIMMER) Well, I don't know about your personal sexual habits, Mr Crodder
but there is wide public interest in the subject.
(CRODDER) My sexual habits?
- I don't want anyone enquiring in... (RIMMER) In yours, and everybody else's.
I think an honest and extremely detailed investigation of this kind
is the quickest way of getting us onto the front pages.
Hear, hear!
(CRODDER) Excuse me. We're conducting a poll
into the sexual habits of the British.
Oooh! Come on in...
(BUBBLING)
(PUMER) Hello. I wonder if you could help me?
We're doing this sex survey...
(FACTORY HOOTER OBSCURES EMPHATIC REPLY)
How many times a week? You're joking!
The last time was Tuesday...
June the 3rd, 1953.
It was the Coronation that got her going.
Oh, it's quite enjoyable work.
But it's not really my profession, you know.
No, I regard it more as a sort of stepping-stone to show business.
(MUFFLED GROAN FROM CLOSET)
Oh, Mr Mandeville. I'd forgotten all about you!
(FRUITILY) It's a pleasure!
(CRODDER) Five times an hour!
(FEDERMANN) Why are they always in Latin?
(PUMER) I thought this one was a cough linctus.
(RIMMER) Keep it up.
(MRS FERRET) If you spent a little less time reading about sex
and a little more time doing something about it!
I do.
Err, err, I mean – I don't.
I'm reading about the Pound.
On the floor again.
- Well, I must be off to work. - Have you been fired?
Fired? (LAUGHS) Oh, dear. Fired!
(LAUGHTER DIES AWAY)
Then why is the car for sale?
(FERRET) Oh, that? No, that's a mistake.
That's one of Rimmer's cock-ups.
That should read “FORS ALE”.
It's a new beer we're advertising.
'Fors Ale...'
'Keeps you hearty and hale.'
- I've never heard of it. - No, you may never.
Very hush-hush.
(MAN ON MONITOR) And then the moon climbs, a great copper ball, until she tops
the long, dark line of the elms, and laces the countryside silver
for then you'll hear a nightingale sing – (IMITATES NIGHTINGALE)
(APPLAUSE)
(HENCH) Thank you very much, Percy.
Do grocers indulge in sexual intercourse
twice as often as butchers?
Is Doncaster the wife-swapping capital
of Great Britain?
Do money and sexual inventiveness
go hand-in-hand?
A sensational poll published this morning
purports to give the answers.
I have with me Michael Rimmer, of Fairburn Polls
and Peter Niss, of the rival International Opinion Polls.
- Mr Rimmer, I have the feeling... - Congratulations!
(AUDIENCE LAUGHTER)
I get the impression that you conducted this survey
because you felt that this kind of scientifically-disguised smut
would give your firm maximum publicity.
Could you tell me why you asked me on the programme?
To find out your real motives in publishing the poll.
And to talk about sex.
Do let's try not to be frivolous.
Well, sex may be frivolous to you, Mr Niss,
but it's not to me, and the vast majority of the people in this country.
Yes, but do we really want to know how many times a week
and how satisfactory the results?
- Yes, I do. - Oh.
I think everybody's interested.
Well, it's not the sort of poll we could conduct at IOP.
Well, I think that's a pity because I think the more we know what people
really want and feel, the better.
I think polls are just beginning.
In fact, it's the only way we can adapt our society to fit its real needs.
Well, now let's see how our cross-section of society
feels about your particular sex poll.
You, sir –
What do you think about publicising people's personal sexual habits?
I think you seem to disapprove...
I wonder if your wife agrees?
I'm not his wife. Go away, please.
Anybody else here from Doncaster?
(AUDIENCE LAUGHTER)
(NISS, LAUGHING) …and you knew they weren't married, all the time?
(HENCH) Yes. Poor sods.
(NISS) What you might call a moment of real television. (LAUGHS)
(HENCH) Well, I'd better go and look after Percy.
He gets a bit broody.
(RIMMER) Peter, I was just jotting down
a few reasons why you might like to leave IOP
and come over to us at the Fairburn Organisation.
(NISS) Ah, yes. Yes, I see – that's very well put.
Yes, I particularly like the noughts.
(RIMMER) Thanks to you, Peter, IOP have built up
a fantastic reputation for accuracy.
(NISS) How very kind.
Scotch, please.
(RIMMER) I suppose if their next poll turned out to be wildly *in*accurate
it might divert a little custom our way?
(NISS) Yes.
(RIMMER) What was the normal sample you took there?
(NISS) We usually asked about a thousand.
That's all one normally needs.
(RIMMER) Only a thousand? - Yes.
(RIMMER) So if we knew which particular thousand
were going to be asked next time...
Well, of course, it would be very unethical of me
to reveal my knowledge of IOP's next poll.
Yes. Yes, I think unethical is the word.
- Practically criminal... - Cheers!
Inside your folders, along with your twenty-five pound bonus,
you'll find detailed instructions and photographs of twenty men.
These twenty men are undertaking a survey on religious attitudes
for International Opinion Polls.
Tomorrow – Wednesday – they will be in Nuneaton.
So will you. Lights please!
Those of you in Group One will go immediately
to the Rawleigh Shopping Precinct
where you'll see this man.
(RIMMER) (SHOUTING) Ferret!
(FERRET) Sorry!
(CRODDER MOANS)
What's the matter with Crodder?
Well, I'm afraid the sex survey's rather taken it out of him, sir.
Where you'll see this man.
(RIMMER) When he questions you,
you will give the answers provided on your sheet.
(PUMER) Come on. Quickly. Come on. Come on.
Twenty-five past. We want to be going by half-past. Come on.
Okay, now you all know your groups, right?
Now, Groups Two and Three, go to your stations –
you'll find them up that way.
Groups Four and Five, your stations you'll find up that way.
Right, now Group One, the rest of you, follow me. Walk naturally.
(PUMER) Morning. (INTERVIEWER) Morning.
(PUMER) I was just, er, cleaning my pockets out
over in that, er... thing.
Oooh! Ah, ah...
- Banged my leg on this bench... (INTERVIEWER) Oh.
Oof, er...
Yes, I, er... banged my leg
against this... this old bench.
Erm... are you all right?
(PUMER) Yes, fine. Fine, thanks.
Yes, I like to keep fit, plenty of exercise.
Yes, you could almost say it was my, er, religion.
Erm, I'm awfully sorry. What I really wanted to ask you was,
could you possibly tell me the time, please?
Oh, sorry. Yes, er, yes... It's just before nine-fifteen.
Ah, thank you very much indeed –
because I was saying to my wife when we were praying this morning...
(INTERVIEWER) Excuse me. We're doing a survey
of people's religious attitudes and habits
...er, excuse me, madam... we're just doing a survey
of people's religious attitudes and habits
and would very much value your opinion.
Oh, yes. Certainly.
(INTERVIEWER) What religion are you? - I'm a Buddhist.
- A Buddhist? - Yes.
- I see. A practising Buddhist? - Yes.
How long have you been a Buddhist?
All my life.
(INTERVIEWER) Excuse me, sir. Excuse me, erm...
- We're doing a survey of religious... (CRODDER) I'm a Buddhist.
You're a Buddhist?
There's a lot of us in Nuneaton, you know.
(INTERVIEWER) Er, well...
(PUMER) I'm awfully sorry to bother you once again.
Could you possibly tell me what time...?
(INTERVIEWER) Yes, yes, sorry. Yes, sorry –
It's just past nine-sixteen, so you're all right there.
(PUMER) Oh, yes. As I was saying to my religious father...
(INTERVIEWER) Excuse me... excuse me, madam.
Erm, excuse me, madam. What... what religion are you? What...
(TANYA) I'm Church of England.
Have you always been C of E?
Oh, no. Only since I married.
And before that you were...?
(BOTH) A Buddhist.
(PUMER) I'm frightfully sorry...
Look, would you please stop asking me the time!
Now, stop it!
(PUMER) I'm a Buddhist...
There has been strong reaction in Nuneaton to the poll published today by IOP
showing that forty-two percent of the population of Nuneaton
are practising Buddhists, twenty-two percent are Mohammedans, only eleven percent
are Church of England, and that nine percent
are worshippers of the Great White Ram.
From Nuneaton now, Gerald Pringle reports.
This astonishing result has raised strong feelings
among the God-fearing people of Nuneaton.
The man in the street is shocked and bewildered.
(IN BIRMINGHAM ACCENT) I'm shocked and bewildered, Gerald.
I'm, er, bewildered and shocked!
Was that alright?
I'm not saying that Buddhism is a bad thing.
But is it a good thing?
It's possible to approach God in a great many different ways –
but there's no need to be silly about it.
From the angry streets of Nuneaton... goodnight.
The Leader of the Opposition, Tom Hutchison
in a speech at Beccles, soundly condemned
the Government over this incident.
In our manifesto at the last election
we pointed out, in no uncertain terms,
the danger of opinion poll firms
operating without proper control.
If I may quote –
“There are many other fields”
“in which the Tory Party might not hesitate”
“to take action.”
(APPLAUSE)
(CLAPPER-LOADER) 'Scene One, Take Eight.'
(HENCH) Mr Rimmer, doesn't this result
clearly demonstrate that we place rather too much trust in opinion polls?
(RIMMER) Not at all. Although I do think it raises
some doubts about the sampling methods of IOP.
But why should we believe that your methods are any more reliable?
I just want to be judged by results, Steven.
Take the forthcoming by-election at Lymholt.
I'm prepared to guarantee that our forecast
- will be within one percent. (DIRECTOR) Cut!
Thank you very much.
Bloody idiot! How the hell can you guarantee one percent?
We'll ask everybody.
(# MARCHING MUSIC)
- Oh. Mrs Spimm... - Hello again!
We're conducting a survey into people's voting habits.
Come on in...
(PRINGLE) And now here is the Returning Officer, Alderman Poot
to announce the results.
The Fairburn opinion poll has predicted
a Conservative victory by 4.1 percent.
(RETURNING OFFICER, VIA PA) “Edith Melon.” (PRINGLE) Liberal.
(RETURNING OFFICER) “Three thousand, two hundred and twelve.”
(RETURNING OFFICER) “Kevin Parrot.” (PRINGLE) Labour. (BOOS AND CHEERS)
(RETURNING OFFICER) “Twelve thousand, seven hundred and ninety-one.”
(PRINGLE) That's down, and it is possibly a low poll.
(RETURNING OFFICER) “Colonel Richard Pryor-Grafton.” (PRINGLE) Conservative.
(RETURNING OFFICER) “Fourteen thousand and eight.”
(PRINGLE) Oh, Conservatives in by 4.1 percent.
Tremendous triumph for Fairburn Polls
– and, of course, the Conservatives.
(HUTCHISON) Hello, Geoffrey! (GEOFFREY) Morning, Tom.
(HUTCHISON) I must say I like the, er... (GEOFFREY) Ah, yes.
Well, if the people won't come to the church
the church must come to the people.
I like the steeple particularly, don't you?
The feeling that, er...
(RIMMER) Julian! Lovely exhibition. Thought it was absolutely super...
...marvellous. See you later.
- Lady Dorothy, how very sweet of you to come. (LADY DOROTHY) I wouldn't have missed it...
(RIMMER) Hugh! I loved your speech on abortion.
- It was really gorgeous. (WILTING) Thank you...
(RIMMER) How very good of you to come, sir. (HUTCHISON) Hello, Michael.
(RIMMER) Nice to see you. Like some champagne? (HUTCHISON) Thank you.
(RIMMER) Lots of food all around. You can just pick it up as you want.
(GEOFFREY) Thank you very much.
(HUTCHISON) My goodness. You seem to have half of London here.
(RIMMER) Just a few friends, really.
(GEOFFREY) I think parties are such a good idea. (RIMMER) Do you like them?
Nice place, too.
Have you managed to find time for our little survey?
Yes. I think we've managed to put our finger
on the reason for your declining attendances.
We've tried everything, you know. Pop groups. Bingo.
Hallucinogens in the wafers.
Son et Lumiere in the graveyard,
and, of course, these clothes are a bit out for the 1970s.
I think that's very good thinking,
but there is one basic stumbling block.
What's that? What's keeping them away?
God.
I had a nasty suspicion it was that.
You see, seventy-three percent of the population
find it very difficult to believe in Him.
Well, I do think that doubt
is a terribly important part of belief.
You mean if we were to fade out the God-side
of the worship, we'd get better attendances?
(RIMMER) I think it's worth trying in any case.
(GEOFFREY) Yes. A sort of “Our Father, which might be in Heaven”?
(RIMMER) Yes, that kind of thing. Good.
(FAIRBURN) Delicious kedgeree!
(RIMMER) Hello, sir. Nice to see you. (PHOTOGRAPHER) Mr Rimmer, sir!
(RIMMER) Thank you. (FAIRBURN) Ferret...
(SHUTTER CLICKS) (FAIRBURN) ...I'd like *that* mackerel!
Peter, how very super of you to come.
Anything for a laugh.
- Have you got that dossier? - Yes.
Better go have a word with Tom Hutchison...
(FAIRBURN) No, not that one, Ferret...
*That* one!
Just shout for champagne if you need any...
Oh, excuse me.
Looks great...
Everything all right?
Sorry to neglect you, sir.
(HUTCHISON) Not at all. Excuse me...
I must say I was most impressed
with the Lymholt prediction.
Thank you very much.
I believe you're conducting a survey
as to the relative merits of the Prime Minister and myself.
(RIMMER) Yes. Very interesting results.
“Vapid”. Oh dear.
“Cold... tedious... uninspiring.”
It's not so good over the page.
It's all very well being warm and lovable
but what this country needs is some tough thinking at the top!
I couldn't agree more, sir.
(TANYA) Excuse me, sir. The Prime Minister's on the phone.
Tell him I'll call him back, would you?
You know, Rimmer. This survey of yours
isn't going to make it any easier for me at the party conference.
There have been some rumblings, you know.
I suppose if we only publish the more... positive aspects
of your leadership, it might, er...
(HUTCHISON) Ah, yes, well, hmm...
Have you ever thought of going into politics, Michael?
We need some dynamic young blood in the party.
(RIMMER) But are there any seats available?
(HUTCHISON) Oh, yes. There are always seats available to the right man.
Old Eric Bentley's thinking of retiring.
(RIMMER) Well, I would be very interested.
(HUTCHISON) Of course, it depends on what happens at the conference.
(RIMMER) I think I can help you there, Tom. - Really?
(FAIRBURN) (LOUDLY) No, no, Ferret!
*That* one!
(HUTCHISON) (DECLAIMING) “And the first priority”
“must be that of trades union reform...”
(RIMMER) (HECKLING) What about unemployment?
(HUTCHISON) “Don't talk to me about unemployment!”
(RIMMER) Very good. Keep the turn, that was beautiful.
Now if we could just try it once again.
(HUTCHISON) “Don't talk to me about unemployment, young man.”
“I was... unemployed before you were born.”
“My memory of those terrible days in the Thirties”
“still brings tears to my eyes.”
(NISS) Now. Cry now.
(RIMMER) Don't worry, Tom. We'll supply your tears.
(HUTCHISON) Oh, thank you!
(RIMMER) Right – next heckle.
(HE SINGS 'THE RED FLAG') “The people's flag is deepest red...”
(NISS) “It shrouded oft our martyred dead...”
(HUTCHISON) “Thank you for your charming rendition”
“but I do not think the group”
“is ready to record yet.”
(RIMMER AND NISS APPLAUD)
Lose the smile, love.
(RIMMER) Right, applause, applause.
(FOOTBALL RATTLES TURN – RIMMER AND NISS CHEER)
- Hurray! - Bravo!
- Wonderful! - Well done, Tom!
(RIMMER) Well done, Tom!
(NISS) What a ham.
(RIMMER) Tom, that was absolutely terrific!
(NISS) Fantastic warmth!
(RIMMER) So natural this time...
(NISS) You've done it again! (RIMMER) Keep expecting the students –
everything's going to be all right on the night!
(VIOLENT CROWD NOISES)
(STUDENTS CHANTING) Police violence! Police violence!
(CHANTING) Shame! Shame!
(CHANTING) Fascist pigs! Fascist pigs!
(NISS) And how did you persuade the authorities
to establish a Faculty of Applied Violence?
(RANJIT X) Direct action. It's the only way,
with the minimum of non-violence.
U.S., plus napalm, equals – what?
(STUDENT) Fascism, Ranjit.
(RANJIT X) First class, Gary.
Now, as I understand, you guarantee
maximum TV and press coverage,
travel expenses, and a bonus for speaking parts.
(NISS) Plus your usual personal appearance fee of...
(RANJIT X) Oh, don't let's go into bourgeois things like money.
Speak to my agent about it.
Get up! None of that old Gandhi rubbish!
Get up and hit someone!
Oh, Che. Forgive them, for they know not what they do.
Would you all come over here, please?
Will the group singing 'We Shall Not Be Moved'
move over here, please?
Fellow students. Next week, the Conservative Party
is holding its annual conference...
(APPLAUSE)
(CHAIRMAN RAPS GAVEL)
(RIMMER) Hold on to the handkerchief, Tom,
and no smiling.
Ladies and gentlemen. The next Prime Minister
of Great Britain, and leader of
the Conservative Party... Tom Hutchison!
(PROLONGED APPLAUSE AND CHEERING)
Ladies and gentlemen.
Ladies and gentlemen...
(STUDENTS SING) “The people's flag is deepest red...”
“It shrouded oft our martyred dead...”
(CHAIRMAN) Order! Order!
Throw them out! Throw them out!
(RANJIT X) Leave me alone!
Leave me alone... Down with the fascist pigs!
(SINGS) “The people's flag is deepest red...”
(VOICE IN CROWD) Throw them out!
(HUTCHISON) No, no! No, no – I would ask the ushers
not to eject our friends of the left. (UPROAR DIES DOWN)
The Conservative Party believes
in freedom of speech.
(APPLAUSE AND CHEERS)
And I only wish they did!
(MORE APPLAUSE)
Thank you for that charming rendition
but I don't think the group of vocalists
of the left are ready to record yet!
(APPLAUSE AND LAUGHTER)
(NISS) It's going very well.
(HUTCHISON) And now, if I may turn
to economic matters...
(WOMAN IN AUDIENCE) What about the Old Age Pension?
(RIMMER) That's not in the script...
(WOMAN) What about the Old Age Pension?
(HUTCHISON) Don't talk to me about unemployment, young man!
I was unemployed before you were born.
My memory of those terrible days in the Thirties
still brings tears to my eyes.
And I, and the whole of the Conservative Party
are strongly committed...
(CAPSULE HISSES)
and I emphasise this... (BANGS ON LECTERN)
We are committed to a policy
of full employment...
(SOBS)
lower taxation...
social justice...
(UNCONTROLLABLE SOBBING)
and... and... I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry...
(ENTHUSIASTIC APPLAUSE AND CHEERING)
Amidst amazing scenes at
the Conservative Party conference this afternoon
the Leader of the Opposition was accorded
an unprecedented seven minutes ovation.
Mr Hutchison. Your position as leader
must now be completely secure.
How do you feel about the violent heckling
that punctuated your speech?
I am not saying that the Labour Party
was responsible for this disgraceful episode.
But I will say this – it did seem to be organised.
(PHOTOGRAPHERS) One more, sir! - Look this way, sir!
(HUTCHISON) Michael! Niss!
(RIMMER) Well done, Tom! Very good indeed.
(HUTCHISON) What's the next move then, Michael?
(RIMMER) At the moment, Tom, I've got my personal life to consider.
- I'm thinking of getting married. - Oh, congratulations, Michael.
- I think an MP needs a wife by his side. - Quite right.
(NISS) Who is it?
That... I'm not entirely sure of.
Have you got the result of that poll yet?
Yes. Queen, number one, as usual.
She's out.
Oh, yes. Number two.
Second most popular girl in Britain – Pat Cartwright, showjumper.
- Very nice. - Love at first sight?
- Pretty girl, isn't she? - You romantic fool, you!
(# ROMANTIC ORCHESTRAL MUSIC)
(CLICKING OF TYPEWRITER KEYS)
(RIMMER) Morning.
Hello.
(# ROMANTIC MUSIC CONTINUES)
(SMALL TALK IS IN BACKGROUND)
(PAT) Would you like to have a drink? My parents would love to meet you.
I'd love to, the trouble is I've got to dash and see the Prime Minister.
(PAT) Oh. - How about dinner some time?
(# 'RIMMER' THEME)
(BLACKET) Hello Michael. Nice of you to come.
My privilege, Prime Minister.
- Make yourself comfortable. - Thank you.
Tell me, Michael. Have you ever thought about going into politics?
We're always on the lookout for fresh blood
and there are one or two seats available.
Well, I've never really thought of myself as a socialist.
Can't see why that should be an impediment.
We're not bound by dogma.
Think it over. The offer's there.
Thank you.
Now then, my spies tell me – not literally, of course!
(PRESSES RECORD) ...that your firm has been investigating the reasons
for the slight decline in the popularity of my government.
I'm afraid it's you, sir.
But your polls have always shown me as being
more popular than the government as a whole.
Exactly. The public haven't been seeing enough of you.
I mean, you haven't been on our TV screens
for quite a while now.
Well, I try to give the impression that we work as a team.
But every team needs a leader.
True.
So you think a little more exposure
on the silvery tube?
The more the better!
(BLACKET LAUGHS QUIETLY)
(PRIME MINISTER, ON RADIO) Good evening, and hello again.
A lot has happened since ten o'clock this morning,
so I thought it was about time we had another of our little fireside chats...
(RIMMER) Never seen a man dig his own grave before.
(PAT) Go turn him off, Michael.
(CHANNEL CHANGES TO 'LOUNGE' MUSIC STATION)
(RIMMER) I must tell you how much I've always admired your seat.
It's been an inspiration to me over the years.
(HE KISSES PAT)
(RIMMER) With this ring...
Stop it. We mustn't...
Once doesn't count as breaking training.
I've got the Olympic Heats tomorrow...
...I've got the 'olympic heats' tonight.
(DREAMILY) I think I've achieved a new personal best!
(TV COMMENTATOR) The surprise upset at the White City
was the defeat of Pat Cartwright
who failed to complete her round. (SOUND OF SPLASH AT WATER JUMP)
She complained afterwards of stomach cramps.
(INTERFERENCE) ...We see her now coming out
on Brown Goblin. She's safely over the first –
riding slightly higher in the saddle than usual –
a quick turn here... (FERRET SWITCHES SET OFF)
(MRS FERRET) Where's it all gone?
(FERRET) Huh? Where's all what gone?
- The furniture. - Ah.
Well, while you were out this morning it started getting a bit shaky.
So I just popped it into the furniture shop
to have it re-pawned... repaired.
I rather like it like this.
A great feeling of space.
Care for a glass of 'Fors'?
(BLACKET) Good morning!
(GUARD) Nice to see you again so soon, sir.
- You know the way, I imagine? - Oh, yes.
We thought of building you a flat up there, sir.
Oh, no, no. Very amusing!
Because I'm here so often, you mean? (LAUGHS)
Bloody Capricorns! I'll have a word with Bob about him.
A little regional unemployment, I think. (LAUGHS LOUDLY)
(# PASTORAL FLUTE AND HARPSICHORD MUSIC)
(HUTCHISON) Oh, Michael. Let me introduce
my old friend Teddy Mandeville.
The next Chancellor of the Exchequer, eh, Teddy?
(RIMMER) Very nice to meet you in the flesh, sir.
(MANDEVILLE) It's a pleasure. (SPOT) Hello.
(HUTCHISON) I must say that Blacket idea's working out awfully well.
(SPOT) Even our gardener's sick of him. I mean, he's never off the box!
(RIMMER) I hope he doesn't die of over-exposure.
(LAUGHTER)
Such a ghastly little man!
(RIMMER) He is a big help. You know what's going to decide the election?
Law and order.
That, and the race issue.
I think we should be tougher with the immigrants.
Well, I don't see how we can be any tougher
than the Labour Party. We can't let in less than zero.
(SPOT) We could let a few out. I mean, Uncle Eric's
got this super idea about a boat race.
Five thousand pounds for the first West Indian
who can row back to Jamaica.
When they all sort of row off, it'll be fantastic!
- I mean... (SPOT'S AUNT) Spot. Your shot.
Oh, my shot... Coming, Auntie Vanya!
(RIMMER) As Sir Eric is retiring in any case
why don't you allow him to express his real views?
(HUTCHISON) The man's a lunatic!
Good shot, Eric!
(RIMMER) Exactly. He could make a grossly inflammatory speech –
you could sack him and emerge as a man of principle,
yet the impression would still get about
that we are tougher on immigration than the Socialists.
(RIMMER) Peter, I wonder if I could tear you away
from my fiancée for a moment?
Like you to call up a few newspapers...
Nobody could accuse me of being a racialist...
(SPOT LAUGHS)
...but when I hear stories as well-authenticated as this
which I heard from a very close friend of a constituent
who had been talking to somebody in a pub
who had heard from an extremely reliable source
that a fragile old lady of ninety-two
had been locked in a lavatory
by a group of ten immigrants
who proceeded to poke at her with sharpened broomsticks
for a period of fourteen hours whilst they chanted
anti-white slogans, and finally forced her to use
a newspaper photograph of Mr Enoch Powell
in a way... that I'd rather not go into here.
When I hear stories like that, I wonder –
are we mad, to allow, in this country, fragile old ladies
to be ruthlessly poked by blacks!
(SCATTERED APPLAUSE)
(PHOTOGRAPHER) Could we take it from the end again, please?
(BENTLEY) Eh? (PHOTOGRAPHER) 'Are we mad...'
(BENTLEY, REPEATING) Are we mad?
Are we mad?
(PHOTOGRAPHER) Look to the right, sir!
(BENTLEY) Are we mad?
Are we mad!
(LOUDLY) Are we mad?!
(PHOTOGRAPHER) Look to the right, sir... (BENTLEY) Are we mad? Are we mad?
Are we mad? Are we mad?
Are we mad? Are we?
Have you read this filth?
(INDIFFERENTLY) Yes, I have. Dreadful, quite dreadful.
Dearie me. Oh, dear.
What are you going to do? I can't be Home Secretary
in a party that condones racialism.
Don't you worry, Hugh. I will act –
I will act.
In fact, on matters of principle I am acting the whole time.
Sir Eric is announcing his resignation this evening.
Yes, Michael's taking his seat at the General Election.
But that still gives the impression we're a lot of racialists!
I admire your integrity, Hugh
but you must realise we must win this election.
(# HUTCHISON BEGINS TO PLAY LIGHT PIANO PIECE)
And let's face it – this won't do us any harm at all. No harm. At all.
It's no good. I must speak out!
You see, Hugh – I don't think Tom wants another five years in opposition.
I don't care. I won't be muzzled!
(PIANO CONTINUES)
Hello, whitey!
Good evening.
You're trash, man. (BLOW LANDS)
- I'm on your side! - I've got rhythm...
I understand your motives.
Now let's discuss this rationally.
Violence breeds... violence!
(WILTING) Cool it, baby!
(PIANO CONTINUES)
(UPPER-CLASS ACCENT) “Hello, whitey.”
“Hello, whitey.”
(HIGH-PITCHED VOICE) “Hello, whitey.”
(WORKING-CLASS ACCENT) “ 'ello, whitey.”
(CONTEMPTUOUSLY) Hello, whitey.
“Hello, whitey.” “Hello, whitey.”
(POLICEMAN) Well, sir?
I couldn't swear to it, but it might just possibly
be the one in the green shirt...
(CHURCH BELLS RING)
(PHOTOGRAPHER) A kiss Mr Rimmer, sir. Please.
Thank you, sir.
(GUESTS CHATTER EXCITEDLY)
(# ROMANTIC STRING MUSIC)
(MRS CARTWRIGHT) Bye bye, my darling!
(PAT) Bye!
(PAT) Mummy, put that hankie away –
you promised me!
(GUESTS) Bye!
(NISS) Calculating sod!
(PAT) Now, darling. Where's this super secret surprise honeymoon?
(RIMMER) Have you ever heard of a little place called Budleigh Moor?
(# ROMANTIC MUSIC)
(PHOTOGRAPHERS) One more, Mr Rimmer, please, sir.
This way, please. Thank you.
(RIMMER) Thank you, gentlemen. That'll be enough.
Thank you.
(BLACKET) Deirdre? Would you say my career-line
comes to an abrupt halt?
No, no. No need for too much on the face, dear –
I've got most of it left from this afternoon.
Just, erm, a few drops in the eyes
to get the merry twinkle going!
(LAUGHS)
And, er, could you make the mouth
more generous?
(NISS) Keeping fit?
(PAT) That's about all there is for me to do around here.
(NISS) Yes, I used to be pretty fit when I was in the army.
The only trouble was, it made me so incredibly
...randy.
(PAT) Yes. It does.
Incredibly randy.
Yes, you must be... pretty fit.
How's married life suiting you?
How should I know? I've hardly seen him since the ceremony.
What about all those lovely pictures of you together in the papers?
That's about the only time we've been together –
when there's a photographer around.
(NISS) Yes.
Yes, I must admit there is a calculating side
to Michael that I find very...
disturbing.
But do you actually know anything about him?
I mean, where does he come from?
Never talks to me about it.
Just tells me that he was found in the bulrushes.
(PAT) You can't stand him, can you?
No.
Er, no, no, no – nothing like that.
I just don't like to see what he's doing to you.
What he's *not* doing to me...
(COUNTRY SOUNDS)
Good evening!
Before you vote next week I'd like you to remember
that basically, you know, friends,
this election isn't about money and material things –
it's about morality.
The Labour Party's nothing if it is not a moral crusade.
It's hardly necessary for me to remind you
what we stand for.
The Labour Party stands for...
(AUTOCUE CLICKS INEFFECTUALLY)
well, er, it stands for, er...
(AUTOCUE IS SWITCHED OFF AND ON)
well, it stands for...
we stand for, er...
(SHOUTS) Look! I'm not standing for any more of this!
Look, stop the cameras, get the bloody man off the autocue!
(FLOOR MANAGER) It's live, sir!
(BLACKET, SHOUTING LOUDER) Pull your fingers out!
(FLOOR MANAGER) It's a live broadcast, sir. They can see you...
(BLACKET) What? Oh, oh...
(FORCED LAUGHTER)
(SHOUTS, PANICKING) Oh, oh... dung!
(LOUD CRASH OF EQUIPMENT)
(SHOUTS) I'll sack the lot of you!
Stop it! Stop the bloody thing!
Stop the machine!
Is there nobody in control here?
(HUTCHISON) I must say, Michael, you did an excellent job with Blacket.
I hope I can continue to do well, sir.
(HUTCHISON) I've been thinking about the composition of the Government...
(HE GASPS AT THE COLDNESS OF THE WATER)
…and I was trying to work out
where your many talents would bear most fruit.
Well, as all my experience has been in financial matters
I thought Chancellor of the Exchequer.
(HUTCHISON) Oh, my dear Michael.
You're not even an MP yet! (CHUCKLES SOFTLY)
I must say I admire your directness and drive...
...but you must see that Mandeville must be in charge of the Exchequer.
Of course, I've always believed that a man's personal life is his own affair.
What do you mean?
You haven't heard anything, then?
No. What is there to hear?
Well, I hate to spread gossip, and they're probably faked, in any case.
What are faked?
The photographs I was sent.
Of Mandeville?
...And friends.
But even if they're real, I don't see why
they should affect his efficiency at the Exchequer.
Do you have these, erm, photographs with you?
Yes, I thought it better to hand them over to you
and say no more about it.
God knows where the negatives are.
That's not Mandeville.
The other way up, sir.
Good God! The continental pig!
Good heavens!
Tut, tut!
Keister!
God... I may have to reconsider.
(NEWSPAPER SELLER SHOUTS RAUCOUSLY) “Conservative Shadow Chancellor resigns”
“without giving his reason. Surprise appointment”
“of Tory whizzkid, Michael Rimmer!”
The next Conservative Government
will reduce Income Tax,
reduce Purchase Tax
and increase Old Age Pensions.
This I solemnly pledge.
And now, to help you make up your minds,
here is a chance to take another look
at the alternative to a Conservative Government...
(SHOUTS, PANICKING) Oh, dung! (SCREEN RIPS) (YELLS)
(LOUD CRASH OF EQUIPMENT) (SHOUTS) I'll sack the lot of you!
Stop it! Stop the bloody thing!
It was clever of Michael to have thought of that.
Now.
What would be good, now –
Oh, yes. Bed.
B... E... D... – 'BED'.
That's eight to you, and I'll make 'LOYALTY'.
(NISS) Loyalty?
That is a good word. That's a very good word.
Er, that's fifteen to you.
What can I do with my...
with my 'X'?
Oh, yes. I can... I can make 'SEX'
with the S of 'BEDS'.
And I can add U... A... L...
Five more to me.
Yes, but you don't know what you've let yourself in for –
you see, I can use your 'LOYALTY' to make...
'SEXUALITY'.
(HE LAUGHS)
Well, all I can do is this –
N...
O...
'NO'? But you can't do that.
I mean, it isn't connected to anything.
Oh yes it is.
Goodnight, Peter.
(# CURRENT AFFAIRS THEME)
Good evening and welcome to Election Grandstand.
The first result should be coming in quite soon from Clitheroe.
This is Hugh Wilting's seat and traditionally
the first constituency to complete the counting.
But first, with no results in, let's ask Peter Niss
of Fairburn Polls, what he thinks of the situation.
Well frankly, Steven, I think we've started the programme about an hour too early...
(HENCH LAUGHS) Well, let's go over to Freddie Daring
at Clitheroe, to see if there's any news yet.
Well, these lads have a great reputation to maintain
and they're absolutely determined to give us the first result!
I've never seen such fast, hard counting,
and I think we should have something to tell you in a few minutes.
Well, thank you Freddie.
And now let's take one more look at the state of the parties.
Well, that's the position at the moment with no results in yet,
and now perhaps we can get a reaction from New York.
So over there now, by Early Bird, to Tom Stoddart.
I am not your buddy. Neither am I your mother!
Appalling people!
Ah, yes, well – over here in New York
we are all, as they say over here,
'dog-gone keen' to hear the first result...
(HENCH) ...And so are we here in London.
And we must go back up to Clitheroe
as I think they may have something for us.
Come in, Freddie.
(HENCH) Freddie?
Can you hear me?
In that case, back to New York!
Here in Stockholm, we are extremely excited...
(HENCH) We don't want to talk to you at the moment, Doctor Luns –
if we could talk to you later.
We're going back to Clitheroe to get the first result.
- Oh, but I want... (HENCH) Thank you, Doctor Luns,
we'll come back to you in a moment.
So over to Freddie Daring in Clitheroe for the first result!
(HENCH) Hello, Freddie?
- Hello, Freddie? (TOM STODDART) Over here in New York...
(HENCH) Hello, Freddie? If we could just get Freddie...
No, we don't have the result yet, but
in the closing minutes these lads are going really berserk.
George Winthrop, one of the most experienced counters,
broke a finger just now – but he's carrying on.
(DR LUNS) Hello, London! (HENCH) Well, thank you, Freddie.
Well, still no results from Clitheroe.
Peter Niss?
In that case, let's rejoin our good friend Doctor Luns in Stockholm.
Are you there, Doctor Luns?
He has gone to the...
He will be back.
In that case, let's go over to Paris where Pierre Dubois is waiting.
Bonsoir, Pierre!
(WAITER) Bonsoir!
(HENCH) Pierre Dubois, both candidates at Clitheroe
are keen supporters of the Common Market.
What's the French reaction to this phenomenon?
Ecoutez, Monsieur.
Je ne comprends rien et je m'en fou!
Salut! Le service non compris.
Comme d'habitude d'ailleurs!
...Well, I don't think we've located the right Pierre Dubois.
But while we were talking to Paris we did get the first result
– not from Clitheroe but from Beccles – and here it is.
A Conservative gain of 17,000. Now let's see what swing that is.
Over to Magnus Orbison on the swingometer.
(HENCH) Peter Niss...
Well, that's just under a twenty percent swing to the Conservatives.
It's exactly what we predicted at Fairburn.
If it's repeated it'll give the Conservatives
an overall majority of, what, 265?
Ah. Well now the results are coming in thick and fast.
And here's an interesting result.
Michael Rimmer has held Budleigh Moor for the Conservatives
with a greatly increased majority.
(# MAIN 'RIMMER' THEME)
(MRS FERRET) He's in. I knew he'd do it!
(FERRET) But only by 17,000.
(HENCH) That's another Conservative gain.
And so, with 435 results in, we have the news
that the Prime Minister has conceded defeat.
(TV EXPLODES)
And now it's six-fifteen in the morning, there's only
the Clitheroe result to come in.
And here it is. After three recounts
Hugh Wilting has retained his seat with a majority of only five.
That's over 18,000 down from the last election,
due no doubt to his courageous stand on the race issue.
So now we leave Election Grandstand
with a new Conservative Government in office.
And it's thanks to all our experts, and good night.
(FLOOR MANAGER) Right, that's it, studio. Wrap it up.
(# CURRENT AFFAIRS THEME)
(MUSIC ENDS)
(ON MONITOR) Luns, here. Doctor Luns.
Er, hello. Hello, London...
This is Stockholm...
(NEWSREADER) The Prime Minister is holding an emergency Cabinet meeting at Chequers
to discuss what he describes as the very grave financial situation...
(GENIAL CONVERSATION AND LAUGHTER)
Gentlemen.
The Chancellor is bringing the exact figures
but I do feel that unless we announce strong measures
there is a grave danger of another run on the Pound.
I wonder if you would excuse me a moment?
I have a rather important call to make to my wife in Zurich...
Gentlemen. I must ask you as patriots and ministers
not to speculate against the Pound.
(HUTCHISON) Michael. There you are!
Sorry to keep you, Tom. I wanted to have all the figures.
(HUTCHISON) Good. We've just been discussing
the appalling mess we've been left by the Socialists.
(HUTCHISON) We have inherited a mess, haven't we?
- Oh yes, yes. Yes, we have. - Good, fine!
In fact, overall, the financial situation
could be described as disastrous.
- Catastrophic! - 'Hopeless' is another good one.
I think we're all agreed on the nature of the problem.
Now, Michael. What are your proposals
for dealing with this, er... crisis.
Well, first of all I'd reduce Income Tax,
reduce Purchase Tax, and increase the Old Age Pensions.
You must be mad!
Well, I think we ought to honour our pre-election pledges.
(HUTCHISON) No, no, Michael.
- Nobody expects that of us. - Hear, hear!
No, the normal routine is to say
that we are all staggered and horrified
and then blame it all on the last lot!
I mean, what are our gold reserves at the moment?
- Two-and-a-half million. - God Almighty!
No, seriously, Michael. What are your proposals?
Well, I've been having a word with our friends
in Paris and Bonn.
I didn't know we had any friends in Paris and Bonn.
And I think that while I'm sort of, sorting things out
it would be best to sit back and do nothing for a couple of weeks.
Good idea!
Will all those in favour of sitting tight
and doing nothing for two weeks, raise one arm?
(LAUGHTER) (HUTCHISON) Carried unanimously!
Thank you, gentlemen. That's all I want to say to you.
- Goodbye, Prime Minister. - 'Bye, Michael.
Oh, and I do think we should try and create
the impression of some activity.
What about a summit? That would pass the time.
Very good indeed. And talk about things
in terms of keeping our options open.
(HUTCHISON) Right. (CHAIRMAN) Jolly good idea. Very good idea.
No comment, gentlemen.
I shall speak on my return. Goodbye.
(REPORTER) Good luck, sir.
(# OPENING NOTES OF 'THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER' PLAYED ON TROMBONE)
(UPBEAT VOICEOVER AND STIRRING PATRIOTIC MUSIC) Britain's defences have never been stronger.
Take a look at the unique British 'Hover-Bomb'
which hovers over the enemy issuing instructions to surrender.
If not shown a white flag within fifteen seconds
it devastates an area of fifty square miles!
(POTTER) I've never seen that. Is it one of yours?
(VOICEOVER) Now, feast your eyes
on the giant new 'Caligula' missile, computer-programmed
to home in on specific targets.
(MUSIC SWELLS)
(GENERAL STRIKE) Is it one of yours?
(VOICEOVER) And if that isn't enough to strike fear
into the hearts of our enemies
what about this jolly little fellow –
the Navy's nuclear-powered 'Water Weasel'.
When it's not annihilating our foes
it's hard at work gathering fish!
(LOUD EXPLOSION)
(CRICHTON) I've never seen any of those.
(VOICEOVER) So, for those who think
that the British Lion has lost its teeth let them be warned
that it can still give them a pretty nasty suck!
(MUSIC REACHES CLIMAX AND ENDS)
(RIMMER) I think this display here will answer all your questions.
(POTTER) But they're just models!
(RIMMER) That's all we need. Thanks to our Film Department
we have the finest deterrent force in the world.
This will save roughly one billion pounds a year,
enabling me to increase your own salaries by one hundred percent.
(GENERAL STRIKE) What? (CRICHTON) Twice as much, Willie.
(GENERAL STRIKE) Oh. Mum's the word.
(MOFFAT) What about the other ranks, sir?
Most chaps joined the army to do a bit of
– well, not to put too fine a point on it – killing.
I know I did!
Money isn't everything. The Spofforths have a tradition to uphold.
It's Moffat of the Spofforths, isn't it?
Yes, sir.
You realise, Colonel Moffat, that your regiment
is due to be disbanded?
But I understood that under the Conservatives...
(RIMMER) Well, I think possibly we might find
a special role for the Spofforths. (MOFFAT) Oh.
(RIMMER) You see, Britain needs gold... (MOFFAT) Yes.
(RIMMER) ...as you know, the Swiss have a lot of it. (MOFFAT) Oh.
(RIMMER) This is where you come in...
(NO ONE TALKS)
(GLASS TANKS BUBBLE)
(SERGEANT) 'Ten-shun!
(MOFFAT) At ease, please.
(SERGEANT) Here we are, sir. There's enough elephantiasis
in there to wipe out the whole of China.
Just think of it –
six hundred million bloated Chinks rolling around!
(RIMMER) And where are the Union Jacilli? - Over 'ere.
There we are, sir. The Union Jacilli.
Our latest germ for peace – incidentally, a big dollar earner
it's already gained the Queen's Award for Industry.
And there's no known antidote?
Not as yet, sir, no. It's an highly-concentrated
form of the English common cold.
Acts in seconds, leaves no trace.
- That's the one for us, Colonel. - Yes, sir!
(SERGEANT LAUGHS) Right little beggar, he is!
Once he gets in there, there's no getting him out!
(SILENCE EXCEPT FOR FOOTSTEPS)
(HUTCHISON) Thank you, thank you!
- I'll see you again, too. (WOMAN, TERSELY) Next!
(MAN WITH MICROPHONE) Have you anything to tell us sir, please?
I'd just like to say that my talks with the President
were wide-ranging, full
and exhausting.
(# BAGPIPES SKIRL)
(DRUNKENLY) And we'll sweep in...
and wipe 'em out, completely.
- No survivors? (MAJOR SCOTT) No survivors?
That's a bit rough! I'd better tell Mary right away.
No, sir. No survivors on *their* side.
Oh. That's more like it.
Simple. Effective. And bloody good fun!
Better master the machinery. Know your weapon.
How do these chaps work?
Ah. (READS) “Press firmly with the index finger...”
“first ensuring that all ranks are wearing gas masks.”
Ah. (AEROSOL HISSES)
(SNEEZES)
(MILITARY OFFICIAL) The Swiss have been asking for it.
I mean, what self-respecting nation
can go five hundred years without a war?
(NISS, DRUNKENLY) The Swiss? (MILITARY OFFICIAL) Exactly.
Enough said.
(MOFFAT) You see, people these days have lost
their sense of values. Honour. Decency.
(RIMMER) Courage and loyalty.
Yes. I can't tell you how grateful we chaps
are Michael, to you, for giving us this chance
to do something for Britain.
Ordinary people are just sick and tired
of being pushed around.
(SHOUTS COMMANDINGLY) Pipe-Major!
Gentlemen. I give you...
Operation Cuckoo!
(ALL) Operation Cuckoo...
(VOICE) God bless her.
(# BAGPIPES SKIRL)
(# MILITARY FIFE AND DRUM MARCH)
(# LIGHT-HEARTED POLKA, GRADUALLY SPEEDING UP)
(SNEEZING FROM VARIOUS DIRECTIONS)
(TRUMPET CALL)
(HISSING OF AEROSOLS)
(# TRIUMPHANT MILITARY MUSIC)
(MOFFAT) Take that!
(AEROSOLS HISS)
(SHOUTS) Come on. At the double!
This way, chaps...
(AEROSOLS HISS SPORADICALLY)
In you go, then.
Quick as you can!
(# ORCHESTRAL STRING WALTZ)
(MOFFAT, LOUDLY) Forward!
(NEWSPAPER SELLER SHOUTS) “North Sea gold find confirmed!”
“Big boost for Sterling!”
“Swiss government break off diplomatic relations with Egypt!”
(HUTCHISON) It gives me great pleasure
to show you the first piece of gold to be mined
from our vast North Sea gold fields!
(CHEERS AND APPLAUSE)
(RIMMER) Can I give you a hand, sir?
(HUTCHISON) No, Michael, it's all right. I think it's me they want to see.
(PHOTOGRAPHERS) Can you move back a bit, sir?
...A bit higher, sir.
...Back a bit, sir.
(HUTCHISON YELLS)
Let go of the gold, sir!
(HENCH, LAUGHING) I was really quite fond of him
but what a stupid way to go!
(ALL LAUGH) - Talk about a floating pound!
(ALL LAUGH AGAIN)
(FLOOR MANAGER) All right, studio. Nice and quiet, please.
(SOLEMN TYMPANI NOTES)
Tonight, the country lies stunned by the tragic news
of the death of the Prime Minister.
(BLACKET DISGUISES INVOLUNTARY LAUGHTER BY COUGHING)
Messages of sympathy have been pouring in
from all over the world.
The Pope has condemned the senseless violence of our times.
The President of the USA has spoken warmly
of the man with whom he recently spent so much time.
Here in the studio tonight we have three men who knew him well.
First, the Home Secretary, Hugh Wilting, who was
with him when he died.
This is a black day... er, darkish sort of day for Britain.
(HENCH) Your Grace...
I think it ironic that a man who so loved the sea
should be, so to speak, bitten by the mouth that drowned him.
Was it St Paul, or Cole Porter who said
we always hurt the one who loves us?
But I'm sure this fine man has found solace
in Heaven with Almighty God
– if there is such a person.
Mr Blacket. You, at times, have been
on rather acrimonious terms with the late Prime Minister.
We've had our differences.
On one occasion – indeed, on several occasions –
you described him as a 'two-faced, weasel-eyed git'.
In the rough-and-tumble of parliamentary debate
one often says things that are easily misinterpreted.
But there was a great warmth between us.
One hates to make, er, party points, but, erm...
...Suffer little ones and let the little ones suffer.
He giveth and taketh away, and casts his bread upon the waters.
Well, let's take one more look at the tragic accident,
this time in slow motion.
(FILM ON SCREEN HAS NO SOUND)
(HENCH) Here, we see the Prime Minister
moving to one side to give the photographers
a better view of the gold.
This is the crucial moment.
The Prime Minister slips. Michael Rimmer rushes to his side...
...but is unable to save him.
But even so soon after the tragedy
the question on everybody's lips is
'Who will succeed?'
(SOLEMN TYMPANI NOTES)
(BREAM) I can't say I like the man,
but you must admit he's got something.
I can't say I like the man,
but I must admit he's got something.
What about you, Mandeville?
I can't say I like the man, but
I must admit he's got something on me.
(# JAUNTY POP MUSIC ON PORTABLE RADIO)
(RADIO DJ) And there we are, folks –
that's number five in our Top Thirty this week,
and I think at the other end of this telephone –
because it's time for our afternoon telephone call – is Mrs Ferret.
(MRS FERRET) Hello?
(DJ) Hello, Mrs Ferret?
(MRS FERRET) That's right, Dave. But Constance to you.
Great. Now what do you do, Constance?
I'm just an ordinary housewife.
Great. What does your husband work at?
My husband, Dave? Oh, he's a failure.
Fine. And as an ordinary housewife
who would you choose to lead the Conservatives?
(WITH ENTHUSIASM) Oh, Michael Rimmer, Dave!
He's everything my husband isn't!
Well, Constance, all I can say to that is...
(VOICE OF SMALL CHILD) ...groovy, baby!
(BUBBLING)
He's ruthless, opportunistic, dishonest,
shallow, evasive, and unprincipled.
But I'm still not sure he'll make a good leader.
I shouldn't wait up for me tonight, darling.
I might be a bit late.
- I want a divorce. - Divorce? Why?
To put it in the only terms you'd understand...
sexually speaking we're seventy percent below
the national average.
I shouldn't pay too much attention to one month's figures.
Seasonal variations can be very misleading.
I mean it, Michael. I want a divorce.
That's normal. About forty-two percent of married women
go through this phase during the first year of their marriage.
How would it affect your chances of being Prime Minister
if I went on television tonight and told everybody
where the North Sea gold really came from?
You wouldn't do that.
(PAT) I'll ring Steven Hench now.
No, you won't. Bye.
(PAT) He'd love to get you!
(RIMMER) Peter...? (NISS) Yes?
(RIMMER) Pat's a bit upset. I wonder if you'd look after her.
Don't let her near a telephone till I get back.
- Right. (PAT CLATTERS AGAINST GLASS DOOR)
I'd leave her in the bathroom to calm down
if I were you.
(PAT, SHOUTING) Let me out!
Peter!
- Hello? (PAT) Let me out!
I'd love to. But I can't.
Why not?
You can't stand him!
I know, but he's so nearly there.
And there are so many things we can do together.
(PAT) Think of all the things *we* would be able to do together!
I thought you loved me...
I do love you.
(PAT) And I love you, Peter.
And I love you, Pat.
Well, let me out, then.
(# MAIN 'RIMMER' THEME)
- Thank you, sir. - Look this way, sir!
Oh, don't do that. You'll bruise your lovely shoulders.
(PAT) If you loved me you'd let me out!
- But I do love you. (PAT) And I love you...
so let me out, you stupid, spineless, sycophantic...
(APPLAUSE)
If you let me out
you can have me!
Darling Pat!
(APPLAUSE FROM TV)
May I say how proud and privileged I am
to have been elected Leader of the Conservative Party. (APPLAUSE)
I don't believe it.
He's done it!
So he has.
Sorry darling,
but duty calls.
(RIMMER, ON TV) ...albeit it under circumstances
which I most bitterly regret.
This is not a time for false hopes.
The situation is critical
and I intend to take immediate action.
(RIMMER) Hello, darling.
Let's start improving our monthly figures...
(RIMMER) Colonel Moffat, late of the Spofforths,
is our new Minister of Defence.
(APPLAUSE)
Teddy Mandeville will be Minister of Labour.
(APPLAUSE)
Now happily recovered from his illness.
I've chosen him because, above all,
Teddy is a deeply human man.
And nobody knows better than me
how very human he can be.
As public opinion polls
have become such a vital part of our democratic way of life
the time has come to take them out of private hands
where they can possibly be misused.
I've therefore created a National Poll Board
under the chairmanship of Mr Peter Niss.
(APPLAUSE)
Now, you know that I've never sought power
and now that I have power I want to share it with you.
For it is you, the people of Britain,
that have made this country great.
From now on, I want to consult you directly.
On every major issue there will be a referendum
in which you can vote, so at last
we can enjoy a real democracy.
Goodnight.
(# FORCEFUL MARCHING MUSIC)
Oh, look. There's more coming.
Isn't it nice!
Makes me feel so important.
We are important, Loretta. A vital cog.
Hats off to Rimmer.
(READS) “Should we keep a continuing military presence in Binwandi?”
(MR SPIMM) Mmm.
(MANDEVILLE) The whole country's gone mad.
(BREAM) The public doesn't know anything about government.
What does he think he's doing?
(MANDEVILLE) He's off his head!
(BREAM) I suppose there's one advantage.
He can hardly fail to stay in power.
(MANDEVILLE) In power? What power?
The public have got all the power. Everyone's gone mad.
(WILTING) Are you going to resign?
(MANDEVILLE) I'm not mad. They are.
Well, that's done.
Bedtime, I think.
I, er...
I think I was right to take a firm line on China.
(MRS SPIMM) Oh, guess you had to.
(BEEPER SOUNDS)
(MRS SPIMM) Ooh, quick, it's the emergency tele-vote!
(VOICE FROM TV) Hello again. The Government
would like to know your feelings on water pollution.
(RIMMER) What could be more boring than water pollution?
(NISS) Regional Development? - That is a good one.
(PHONE RINGS)
Hello?
Oh dear...
The postmen are threatening to strike.
Good!
(DOGS BARK AND WHINE)
How can I be expected to know
about the agrarian reforms of Nang-I-Tuot?
(MR SPIMM) Yes, I know his heart's in the right place
and he's doing it for us. And let's be fair
he never sought power. But this isn't democracy.
He shouldn't try and get us involved.
That's his job. He's the leader!
I mean, that's what we're paying him for, isn't it?
(PRINGLE) During today... (MR SPIMM JOINS CHANT) “No more polls!”
...the demonstrations against the new democracy
have reached their peak.
Pillar boxes have been blown up
and a group of twenty Post Office workers
have chained themselves to the railings outside Buckingham Palace.
(NEWSREADER) Earlier today, National Poll Board chairman
Peter Niss faced a furious crowd demanding an end
to 'government by referendum'.
(EXCITED COMMENTATOR) ...from The Grocer, and at the post it's...
(VOICE FROM TV INTERRUPTS. A BEEPER SOUNDS) Hello again. Regional Development.
If you turn to page 98 of your TV voting guide
you will find full details
of tele-vote number 218... (MACHINE SQUAWKS)
(RIMMER) As your Prime Minister, I hope I've never been afraid
to admit my own mistakes.
In every way, the economy is booming
but I must admit that our experiment in participatory democracy
seems to have run into some difficulties.
Perhaps I was too idealistic.
It may well be, that in these modern times
we need a more streamlined form of presidential government.
You must let me know if you share these feelings.
Next week, you'll have the chance to tell me
in what could be, if it's your wish,
the last referendum for some time.
(DIRECTOR) Right, cut it. How's that for you?
(RIMMER) Okay, Brian. That's the one.
I've read this referendum. What you're suggesting
is nothing more or less than dictatorship!
Well you, like everybody else, Hugh,
will have a chance to vote against it.
It's perfectly democratic.
But what you don't realise, is that
ninety percent of the population are idiots!
I always thought all men were equal.
You won't get away with this, Rimmer!
(BYSTANDERS CHEER AND APPLAUD)
(# STIRRING BRITISH TRIUMPHAL MARCH)
(WILTING) Venceremos! We shall overcome!
Venceremos! We shall overcome!
(MUSIC BUILDS)
(WILTING) Excuse me, may I get by?
Mind out!
Move, man. This thing's hot!
Venceremos! We shall overcome!
(MUSIC ENDS)
(FERRET SCREAMS AS HE FALLS)
(CROWD GASPS)
(LOUD EXPLOSION)
(DYING AWAY TO COMPLETE SILENCE)
(# MAIN THEME REPRISES)
Subtitles: Ron Seniscal (Amfonyx)
amfonyx@gmail.com