Ripped By mstoll
Right. Biccies.
Ooh, no, I mustn't.
Oh, er... well, all right.
Now, what was I saying? It's a charity thing.
Lots of people do it all over the country like, erm... a mini Oxfam.
People give you what they can spare and the profits go to charity.
- "Nearly New." - Yes.
That's to distinguish it from a jumble sale,
where people just clear out the attic.
If I'm renting an empty shop for the sale...
- You're renting a shop? - Yes, for a couple of days.
- Don't tell Harold, will you? - Why not?
I'll tell him after, rather than listen beforehand to the reasons why I shouldn't.
So what about helping me, Sandy,
ringing friends, posting these through doors, collecting stuff and being in the shop?
- I don't know, Jean. - It'll get you out the house.
Give you a nice warm glow at the same time.
I could do with a nice, warm glow. Oliver's been a bit prickly these last few days.
Like going to bed with a sea urchin, is it?
No, it's a money thing.
He says, Sandy, what do you do with all the money? Where are the bills?
I even have to keep those long little strips of paper that come out of cash registers.
If you looked in my bag, you'd think I was trying to construct a gnome's toilet roll.
All it's gonna cost you is your time.
So... when you give people these, tell them to bring the stuff to you.
- You haven't got a car, have you? - No.
Got a garage that goes with the flat, though. We could make money by letting that.
Well, go ahead. And look out that leaflet I gave you.
Oh. Telephone answering service.
Salesmen phone their orders in, you pass the orders to the firm. It's well paid.
I'd forgotten about that.
With that and letting your garage, your sea urchin could turn into a baby's bottom.
Ah, Mr Pryde. Frewin. New head of the Residents Association. We have met.
- Excuse me. I've had one of those days. - This won't improve matters.
- Then don't give it to me. - We must move with the times, Mr Pryde.
We require £7.50 from each tenant for a hi-fi aerial in the roof.
- I haven't got hi-fi. - You'll be blessed by those who have.
- Let them keep their blessings. I'll keep £7.50. - The motion was carried five to four.
Well, go and carry your motion somewhere else.
Bloody Residents Association!
That fat fool Frewin wants £7.50 towards a hi-fi aerial in the roof.
You'll get a much better reception on your hi-fi.
- We haven't got a hi-fi. - Oh, dear.
We can't afford a hi-fi. If we had a baby, we couldn't afford a high-chair.
Harold will want his supper.
He's been like a bear with a sore head all day.
That'd make a change from a sea urchin.
Bye, Oliver. Bye, Sandy.
- I'll ring you. - Right.
- Ta-ra. - Ta-ra.
That Residents Association lot are like a set of battery-operated Hitlers.
When they run out of rules, they make up new ones.
They're the lowest form of animal life, feeding off us workers.
I can see them in Frewin's bunker.
(German accent) "Herr Pryde wounded our Fuhrer with a dangerous weapon.
Exterminate! Exterminate!"
£7.50. We shall just have to start an economy campaign.
We can't. We haven't called off the last one yet.
We shall just have to intensify it.
BOTH: We'll draw in our horns, tighten our belts.
Save the pennies and the pounds will take care of...
Let me have your shirt.
Don't put it in the washing machine yet. Waste of electricity and washing powder.
- And fabric conditioner. - And fab... Yes, all right. Thank you.
In future I shall wear each shirt for three days, even if people do start sniffing.
Hmm. Telephone answering service.
Right.
And I shall let our garage.
That should give us some pennies.
Well, enough to have clean smalls more than once a week.
I've just thought.
If you can't beat them, join them.
- Who? - The Residents Association committee.
Fatty Frewin and his feeble followers. They gave me the idea just now.
Five to four they voted. And Admiral whatshisname had left the flats.
If I'd been on that committee, it would have been five-five.
I'd have persuaded somebody to vote on my side. They're one short.
(German accent) Und I am going to volunteer.
- To be a battery-operated Hitler? - No.
To be a spy in the sky. To be a mole in a hole.
To be on their side... and on mine.
To be a double agent.
And I have a shrewd suspicion that Frewin will be happy to receive my application.
But why?
He'll be a damn sight less trouble that way.
Mr Pryde is one of those troublesome creatures who believes he was born to flout authority.
When I gave him the letter, he virtually offered me violence.
(All gasp)
Now to a matter about which you do know something.
Apsley Court is about to acquire a new ground landlord, Sir Brian Sherwood Chester.
We want to present him, right from the start,
with a successful and united Residents Association.
Indeed we do.
Why should the committee's valiant efforts be denigrated by one rotten apple?
That is the core of the matter.
Pardon my little joke.
(Laughter)
Therefore I urgently suggest that we recruit Mr Oliver Pryde
to fill the vacancy left by Admiral Rowbotham. All those in favour?
Thank you very much.
They've taken me on. What did I tell you?
"Dear Mr Pryde..." I bet that "dear" stuck in his gullet.
"Dear Mr Pryde. Your application to join the Residents Association was approved."
Jawohl!
I fooled the fat idiot rotten.
"We are convening an extraordinary meeting this evening to appoint you.
Please confirm if 1900 hours is convenient for you. Yours sincerely, Errol Frewin."
Errol?
His mother must have had him at the pictures.
How about that, then? A fully paid-up member of the Apsley Court Gestapo.
- Well done, darling. - Let them try and bulldoze that aerial past me.
That's fantastic. So you feel a little happier, then, do you?
We've still got to draw in our belts.
- And tighten our horns. - Yes.
But I may be able to do a little more than that.
- You're not going on the streets? - (Phone rings)
- Who'd be ringing at this time? - Better go. You'll be late.
- It might be for me. - It's not.
- How do you know? - Well, erm...
Hello? Yes. Could you hang on a minute? Thank you.
- It's for me. - You said hang on.
- So I could see you off. Bye. - But who is it?
Mr Wrong. Have a nice day.
Sorry. Sorry to keep you.
Do I do what? Oh, yes, I do. I take messages for TryOn Shoes Limited.
Yes. Uh-huh. 40 pairs of...
Yeah. And you are?
(Doorbell)
Right. Thank you very much. Goodbye.
- Hi. - Hello.
Oliver just said you were chatting to your fancy man.
I've started taking messages.
Good for you. You haven't told him?
No, I want to save some money to slap in his hand first.
I was going to put these on some notice boards.
Ooh! Advertising your garage for rent. Good for you.
Oh, I don't get the shop until the day before the sale.
- Can you find room for stuff here? Yes, of course.
Let's go, then.
I wonder how many of these cards Christina Onassis had to write?
This is marvellous. I only put the notice in today.
Oh, good, you've got some men's things as well.
- Has this been used? - No, it's a new one.
Well, that's good, otherwise it would be like selling a second-hand pair of false teeth.
Yes, I suppose it would.
- You've given up smoking? - Well, my wife gave it up for me.
Oh.
(Thinks) This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this...Apsley Court.
(Tuts)
Litter lout.
The sale is on the 20th and 21 st. We should do well out of your contribution.
- I hope so. - Thanks for bringing it round.
My pleasure.
- Hello, darling. - Who was that man?
Darling, you haven't time to chat. 1900 hours.
- Oh, my God, I mustn't be late. - (Phone rings)
Go on, go on.
Hello?
Yes?
Oh, yes. Righto.
And... you are?
Uh-huh. Yes?
Yes, I will.
All right. Goodbye.
- Who was that? - A wrong number.
And who was it this morning?
Come along, darling, you'll be late. It's 1900 hours.
- I haven't got time to change. - I think you look very nice.
I wanted to impress those idiots.
Well, I'm impressed.
Right. The mole.
(Phone rings)
Off you go.
Er... 1900 hours!
Two dozen pairs of moccasins.
Yes, original Indian style.
Mm-hm.
- One gross, pairs of... - (Doorbell)
...uh-huh.
Would you hang on just a moment? Thank you.
- Is that for the sale? - Yes, it is.
- Good. Come in. - Thank you.
Sorry to keep you. One of my associated companies.
(Chatter)
(Clears throat)
This extraordinary meeting is to welcome the newest member
of our Residents Association Committee, Mr Oliver Pryde.
I will introduce you all individually after a snack and liquid refreshment.
Put the coffee on, will you, dear?
Before that, a word about our new ground landlord, Sir Brian Sherwood Chester.
I hear he may be coming to visit us as early as next week, so we must be alert.
Not only must our own flats be a shiny example but the overall exterior picture of Apsley Court.
Curtains at the windows uniform, no trade vehicles on the forecourt,
apart from those installing our new hi-fi aerial in the roof.
There were a few objections to that, amongst whom was our newest member.
(Clears throat)
Mr Fuhrer... er... Frewin.
Through the Chair, I would just like to apologise publicly for my outburst yesterday.
I'd had an extremely hard day's work
and I could not immediately envisage the long-term benefits of the aerial
to a large number of Apsley Court residents.
The minority must always subsidise the majority.
Quite. And I now entirely concur.
- Well said, Mr Pryde. - Please, do call me Oliver.
Oh. Oliver. Indeed. Yes.
- And furthermore I would just like to say... - Thank you... Oliver.
Now, we must all be on our guard
against any radical unofficial alterations to the flats. Agreed?
Agreed.
No nails hammered into the walls, leaving ugly holes.
No fixtures removed or used for purposes not originally intended.
No fire hazards in the form of plugs and extra electrical appliances and so on.
No excessive noise from record players, even if we do have a new hi-fi aerial in the roof.
- I say. - Yes?
Are you a resident of these flats?
- No. - I thought not.
None of us would desecrate our entrance hall by filling it up with rubbish. Pick it up.
Thank you.
Hello, darling. How did you get on?
I think I made an impact.
I bet you did. Did you call them a set of battery-operated Hitlers?
- No, certainly not. - Saving that for a proper meeting, huh?
I bet you tore into 'em about that hi-fi aerial.
No, I didn't tear into them.
Saving that up for next time, too?
I approved the aerial. Mm-hm.
Well, Sandy, it's simply a matter of the minority subsidising the majority.
Yes. Well, that isn't what you said yesterday.
- I didn't think of it like that yesterday. - No, you didn't.
Yesterday, they were the lowest form of life eating dinner off your back.
- Feeding off the workers' backs. - Exterminate, exterminate!
Well, they have a right to complain about this.
What do you think these look like from the forecourt?
Tea towels.
They ruin the exterior symmetry.
- Did you put this up? - No, it erected itself.
You realise these nails will cause holes?
Never knew a nail that didn't.
A hole, you see?
Yes, I can see it now.
Only a moment ago, it was cunningly disguised by that nail.
Sandy, this place is not like our old flat.
No. Our old flat was cosy. It didn't mind having nails stuck in it.
The Residents Association Committee is only trying to improve standards.
What is this?
Oh, it's the waste-disposal thing.
But this is a standard fitting. And an eater of my teaspoons.
- You removed it? - No, it crawled out of the sink all by itself.
You know I've never liked it.
This is a dangerous alteration to the plumbing.
Well, who knows? Or are you gonna sneak?
Supper won't be long.
Who is responsible for this fire hazard?
- It's been like that since we moved in. - But who fitted it?
- You did. - Oh.
Damn cheek!
- What? - That vehicle over there.
Vehicle?
- On the forecourt. It's a flagrant abuse. - The van?
- Yes. It's not allowed. - They're probably in the pub.
But trade vehicles are prohibited.
What is all this vehicle business? That is a van, not a trade vehicle.
I shall leave a message for them.
You know, apart from acting like the Gestapo, you're beginning to speak like them.
- What are you talking about? - I am talking English.
- I'm not surprised you don't understand. - (Phone rings)
And what about all these phone calls? And a man outside. And a pipe?
Go and exterminate that trade vehicle.
Hello?
I'm terribly sorry but the garage was let this morning.
To my first caller, as a matter of fact. Yes. I'm so sorry. Bye.
(Phone rings)
- Hello? Hello, Sandy. - Hello, Jean.
Listen, Jean, I'm beginning to run out of storage space and Oliver is in such a foul mood.
If he finds out about the sale, the garage and my shoe salesmen,
it could trigger off the world's first indoor mushroom cloud.
Yes, Harold said he was a bit odd at work today. He was rather bossy and kept using long words.
Well, he's been behaving like Enoch Powell here as well.
You want the stuff taken off your hands. OK.
Look it out tomorrow and I'll be round.
Well, tomorrow's Saturday.
- Yes, Oliver will be there. - Well, he might sleep in.
You can always slip something in his Ovaltine.
Very funny. See you tomorrow, Jean. Bye.
Slip something in his Oval...
(Groans)
Oliver? Oliver, what's happened?
I-It's nothing.
Nonsense. What is it? Is it your eye?
No, it's my ankle!
Ooh. Oliver.
- Have we got any steak? - Not proper steak.
- I'm not asking for the best fillet. - Ours is in a tin.
How did it happen?
- Well, the driver had obviously had a few... - And he hit you.
- I hurt him, too. - How?
- I said I'd report him to the committee. - Ooh! That must have hurt.
Look, in sticking up for the association, I was also sticking up for the residents.
I didn't ask you to get a black eye for me.
We cannot shirk our responsibilities because of danger.
- Oh, my God. - We must be true to the principles vested in us.
Enoch Powell never gets a black eye.
(Phone rings)
- It's too late to order footwear! - I beg your pardon?
- What? - This is Mr Frewin of the Residents Association.
Oh, is it really?
- Is that Mrs Pryde? - Yes, it is. But I'm in danger of losing the title.
- Could I speak to your husband, please? - I'm sorry.
He's out, is he? Would you give him a message?
Tell him that the new ground landlord is coming tomorrow.
Thank you very much. Goodbye.
- No, I won't. Do you hear me? I won't. - (Dialling tone)
(Sighs)
- Oliver, supper in five minutes. - I don't want any.
- Let me see your eye. - Sorry, it's closed.
Will you do the same for the door, please?
Thank you.
(Small explosion)
Ooh, I hate you, Fatty Frewin.
(Snoring)
(Phone rings)
Ssh!
(Whispers) Hello?
Shoes? I didn't think I had to take orders on Saturdays.
I can't speak any louder.
I've lost my voice.
Yes. Monday will be fine. Thank you very much. Goodbye.
(Doorbell)
Ssh!
(Whispers) I came as soon as I could. Is the sleeping beauty still dormant?
The sleeping beauty has got a black eye. Oh! You didn't hit him?
No.
Let's get this stuff out of the way. I slipped something into his milk.
I did the same with Harold's laxative.
I say, Sandy, you have done well.
(Doorbell)
Crumbs, that'll be some more stuff.
If this goes on, I'll have to keep Oliver sedated all weekend.
Mrs Pryde?
May I introduce Sir Brian Sherwood Chester, the new ground landlord of Apsley Court.
- Good of you to let us in on a Saturday. - Ah, well...
I did phone Mrs Pryde and tell her you would be wanting to see the flats.
May we come in? Thank you so much. We won't keep you long.
Sir Brian is very keen to see the committee members...
Er... th-this is Mrs Hawkwood.
I'm just lending her one or two things.
Yes, some flippers and a pipe.
Yes, a pipe.
She's very kind.
You did say that Mrs Pryde's husband was a member of the Residents Association?
Y-Y-Yes.
You said he possessed those essential qualities of bright-eyed enthusiasm and awareness
that are so much part of...
How kind of you to join us, Mr Pryde.
Let me show you the kitchen.
- Don't let me show you the kitchen. - Perhaps not.
I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting you.
No, that's because I took the message.
Oliver, here.
I didn't give it to you because of your eye. He got this fighting your cause.
- (Phone rings) - Oh, I'll take it.
I'm so sorry.
Hello? You want to order two dozen moccasins?
It's one of my clients. Oh, no, it isn't.
Surely you are aware that your lease strictly forbids any business being transacted.
I didn't know about it, Errol. Er... Mr Frewin.
No. No, he didn't.
Well, he's dazed, you can see that. Oliver, sit down.
- We should leave. - (Doorbell)
- Tell him to hold the moccasins. - Hold the moccasins.
Look, just give me a minute or two to get the flat straight and I'll, erm...
JEAN: It's not very convenient...
- Mrs Pryde? - Have you come to buy the moccasins?
No. I'm renting her garage.
- Renting her garage? - Renting her garage?
Could you come back later, please? I haven't got a lot of time now.
- You didn't give me the spare key. - Renting her garage?
Renting her garage?
So sorry. Thank you for the loan.
Sorry, but the door was open.
Some things for your sale.
- Sale? - Sale?
It's only a little sale.
Thank you for letting us see your... place.
- Excuse us. - Oliver didn't know anything about it.
It was all my idea. The garage, the answering phone. The sale is for charity.
- I didn't know. - And he risked his life for you. Look at that eye.
Mr Frewin. Errol.
Enoch Powell wouldn't have done that!
True to the principles vested in him, that's what he said. Hmph.
Well, those were his very words.
Am I to understand that sub-letting your garage is against your tenancy agreement?
- Well... - What about the sale?
- Is it legal? - Yes!
- I think I shall return your key. - Oh, no...
Please return my advance cheque at some stage. Thank you.
- As there's doubt about the sale... - No, no doubt...
Well, there is with us.
Well, I just... Wait... Wait a minute.
Oh, Jean.
Never mind. You did a marvellous job with my charity.
Did a marvellous hatchet job with my husband.
You didn't give him the black eye.
No, but I doped his milk, though.
- He'll forgive you. - Never.
- It's not the pain, you know. It's his pride. - Blame me.
What, for the garage? And the moccasins? And fusing the lights?
Not to mention pulling down half the kitchen wall. Oh, Jean.
Oh, I should have told him the truth.
I should have told him what was going on.
You see...
...I just wanted to surprise him.
I wanted to give him some extra money.
I should have given him Frewin's message but I was so angry with the Residents Association.
And now they're angry with me.
Oh. Well, er... who are you angry with?
Not you.
Really?
Oh, darling, I am sorry.
No, let me apologise. I've been a right Dr Jekyll and Mr Pryde.
Maybe that's how Mr Frewin likes you.
No, Mr Frewin hates me.
More of your charity people were coming in as he was going out...
FREWIN: Mr Pryde!
...and one was carrying a curtain pole at a very dangerous angle.
Ooh, I'm sorry. Our steak's in a tin.
Got an opener?
Oh, I'm sorry.
Ripped By mstoll