Thank you, Grant. So, ladies and gentlemen,
we're naming this phone the Tanto WD 750 T...I.
Whoa-ho-ho! Give it!
Whoa-ho-ho-ho!
Gotcha!
Paul, what are you doing up here?
Thinking.
Careful, your head might fall off!
Dad!
Come on, Son, spit it out.
Why didn't Mum want me to go on holiday with her?
Is that what all this is about?
Well, the thing is,
it's nice for your mum and Jill to go on their own.
When you're in the throes of a big, passionate lesbian relationship,
the last thing you need's some little kid wandering in saying,
"Mummy, can I go to the swimming pool?", is it?
You see, your mum was never really satisfied by me, sexually.
So it's nice for her occasionally to get the full treatment
from someone on the home team.
I mean, don't get me wrong, I tried,
but when it came down to it, I was just extremely lazy in bed,
and your poor old mum sometimes had to sort herself out.
But where would you rather be? With a couple of rug-munchers in Ibiza,
or here with me watching the Top Gear DVD, eh?
Come on, race you to the telly.
# Keep smiling through
# Just like you...#
Do you like Vera Lynn?
Yeah, she sings up some good shit, isn't it? She's safe.
Isn't it that she's well fit? You know what I'm saying, she is buff.
Totally. She's got it going on. Not like Gracie Fields.
She mings bad.
She's nasty.
You know what I mean, chatting shit about living up an alley.
She so needs to get over herself.
Big time.
AIR RAID SIREN WAILS Scramble!
Come on, chaps. Jerry over the South Downs. Scramble!
Scramble, chaps. No way, blood. I've done flying today.
This morning, and I nearly missed lunch. We've both done flying.
I did yesterday twice and that's against health and safety, or some shit like that.
No, it isn't. And I've got a verruca.
I've got to revise for my flying exams.
It's a like a written theory test and everything.
Enemy bombers are on the way. Get up there and fight them, you cowards!
You can't say that, that's like racism against cowards.
That's like discrimination against a community.
Get up there and fight, or I'll report you to the wing commander, who will...
BOMBS WHISTLE
I would still do Gracie Fields though, if she offered.
Isn't it?
SAT-NAV VOICE: 'Turn left, avoiding the hospital.
'It's NHS, so probably filthy.
'Close your nearside window.
'That MRSA will eat you from the inside out.
'It's a joke. You go there to get well,
'and they literally kill you.
'At the end of the road, turn right.'
Dimitri!
Dimitri, I've got the details of the scouting trip, Dimitri.
Mr Komanoffski?
Aaaah!
Guess who, Tony? Is it Dimitri?
Is good, so good, eh?
But wait, my little Tony is tense.
Oh, it's just a back twinge. Nothing to worry about.
I'm good for spinal injuries. You want me give you massage?
Um...I'll give you one of my Dimitri specials. I'm fine, actually.
Is good, yeah? A little bit higher.
Little bit higher!
Little bit higher.
Wah-ha-ha-ho! Oh, yes! Yeah, better already!
DIMITRI INHALES DEEPLY
You came straight from training, Tony?
Um, yes. Well, I'm off to Cameroon tomorrow on this scouting trip, so I thought...
You had a shower.
I thought maybe we should talk turkey.
You did not wash everywhere.
I forgot. I just drifted off.
I forgot which bits I'd already done, you know.
But wait. You still wear the aftershave from that '80s advert.
That was my brother's favourite drink.
What is it called? Manifest.
That's it! Manifest.
The musk of a man. You and James Hunt with your tops off,
chopping wood together outside a log cabin.
Did you two really live together in the forest?
Oh, no, no. That was just an act.
He did come to the house once for drinks, but he said something to my wife
that turned out to be very rude. Really? I'll take revenge for you.
Oh, I'm afraid Mr Hunt passed away some years ago.
HE TUTS Tony, you dark, dark horsey man, eh?
Oh, dear, no! No, no, no. It was natural causes, I think.
Yeah, clever, very clever.
This is why I want you for this bit of business in Cameroon.
The scouting for new players? Scouting?
Oh, yes, yes, of course. The scouting for players.
Petr, please. When you leave tomorrow, I want you to take this briefcase.
Inside are ¤1 million's worth of diamonds
and directions to meet me at the border. There, we'll make the exchange.
For the players? That's right, yes.
For the consignment of semi-automatic players.
Then we drive cross country to the rebel training camp.
Oh, me back! Oh, dear!
What is matter, Tony? Me back, it's gone.
I don't think I can make the trip. That is a royal pain.
Oh, nonsense. Tony, Tony, Tony.
Don't worry your little head. You see...
we'll be so loaded on crystal meth, you won't feel a thing.
Petr, give Tony a lift to the car.
I'll give you proper massage on the way. TONY WHIMPERS
Hi. Can I get my prescription? Right.
Sorry, do you mind me asking if you've been waiting long?
About 20 minutes.
Shit. This isn't gonna work. Er...
Hello?
Um, excuse me...?
Hello?
LAUGHTER
Ohh!
Oh, I'd better just go and give this chap his inhaler.
Back in a second.
Darling! Roger, what are you doing here?
Took the day off. Spot of flu. Don't come close. How was your trip?
Your car isn't in the drive. It's being MOT'd.
How was Scotland? Looks like you had...good weather.
Yes, it was very hot for January.
Is your sister out of hospital?
Honey, have you got any cash? I've only got bloody euros.
Peter? Rog.
Rog is off sick, flu.
I bumped into Peter at the airport and we decided to...Share a cab.
Oh, that was bit of luck. How was Spain, Peter?
Very enjoyable. Peter's looking for opportunities in Europe. So I've heard.
In the cab. Talking of which, have you got any cash?
Do you know, I only seem to have euros as well.
Why would you have euros for Scotland, darling?
Oh, silly me!
You're so scatterbrained, but I do love you.
Here, will 40 cover it? Thanks.
Holly's been in Scotland visiting her sister.
Kidney infection. Pretty serious by all accounts.
Her sister's really been in the wars.
Last week, she found out she had ME
and the week before she had a really nasty bout of leprosy.
Yes, so she was telling me in the cab. Peter, can I confide in you?
Of course, Rog. You're my oldest friend.
The last time we made love... When was that? About a month ago.
She called out a man's name.
What name was it? Peter.
Really?
Yeah. Now, apart from you, we only know one other Peter.
My father.
Do you think Holly's having an affair with your father?
Just 'cause he's in a wheelchair doesn't mean he doesn't have needs.
Your father's in Australia!
I know, it doesn't make any sense. I just can't think who else it can be.
Look, I'm sure everything's fine. I've had you working nights
while I've been off looking for opportunities in Europe.
You're tired. I'm sure there's nothing going on.
Thanks, Peter. I don't know what I'd do if Holly left me.
No-one's leaving anyone. I'm sure Holly's very happy with the way things are.
I know I am.
SAT-NAV VOICE: 'In 300 metres,
'keep left, then turn right after the town hall.
'If you left it up to that lot in there,
'you wouldn't be allowed in your own car.
'If you're not bent, black or blind,
'they don't want to know.
'Continue straight on...'
I urge you to sign this treaty,
and make a solemn commitment to lowering carbon emissions.
This afternoon, it's our privilege to be able
to change the world for the better.
I beg you not to waste this opportunity.
Mr President.
Thank you.
As you're aware, I must return to London for the State Opening of Parliament.
I do so in the certain knowledge
that future generations will look back on this day
with heart-felt gratitude and deepest admiration.
Nice work, Prime Minister. Thank you, Mr President.
I thought we'd be arguing till midnight at least!
Well, that's what we're trying to do, isn't it? Cut down on hot air.
THEY LAUGH
Flight time's 45-50 minutes, so why don't I brief you then.
That gives you 20 minutes now for lunch. Ah.
Something wrong, Prime Minister?
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
What?
I left the bloody treaty in the meeting room. Oh.
Shit.
Do you want to go back and get it?
Um...Prime Minister, if we don't have that signed treaty in London
by the end of today, the whole thing will have been a waste of time.
Mm. We managed to get the Chinese to sign
and we may never get that opportunity again.
This could be our one chance to halt global warming.
I think it might be a bit embarrassing. You know, I've said all my goodbyes.
I did the "hot air" gag.
We'll just leave it. OK.
Ee, it's a terrible tangle in Iraq at the moment, isn't it? I dunno.
Will they ever get that sorted out?
What have you got? You've got your Sunnis, your Shias and your Kurdish peoples.
Now, with your Kurds, that's a territorial dispute,
but your Sunnis and Shias, that's a split that's been gannin' on
since the death of Mohammed nearly 1,400 year ago.
Now, the way I see it, the thing to do
is to divide your political and your economic powers.
In other words, you let your Shias keep the oil
and you let your Sunnis run your parliament.
So you've got a sort of Jack Sprat situation
with your economic and your political powers.
Now, that works very well in Malaysia with your Muslim Malays and your Chinese.
So you never know, you might end up solving not just your problems in Iraq,
but also the wider political crisis in Iran and Lebanon into the bargain.
But what do I know?
Well, I hadn't worked for a while and my girlfriend was pregnant,
and we needed to get on the property ladder.
But to get a mortgage, I needed to demonstrate a steady income.
So I decided to become a teacher.
It's not for ever...
is it?
'Teaching.
'You do something for us and we'll do something for you.'
Have you been waiting long? Yeah, ages actually.
Hello?
Hello...?
Hello?
Although I can speak some Russian,
I find I'm always on a very sticky wicket
unless the conversation turns to the subject of gardening.
HE LAUGHS SLEAZILY
Oh, I must just go and give this lady her ointment.
89, 90. Let me have a look. There's usually something there.
Pru, my love, look in the tip jar, see if there's a rogue tenpenny bit.
One moment, Miranda, my love.
I'm just fixing the air machine. I hope you don't mind.
There you are. That didn't take too long, did it, dear?
Sorry, Pru, my love. The tip jar. We're out of change. Let's see what we've got.
I don't think you'll find much in here, darling, just a dead spider and a note.
Well, a note would be very helpful. No, it's not money. It's abuse.
Look, forget it. That's fine.
Right, so that's a quiche, your salad and a drink. That's £7.80.
Miranda, darling, have you got the tongs? I'm sorry, I can't hear you,
because I'm busy with a customer. Oh, sorry, what did I say?£7.80!
Let me just double-check. Quiche, salad and a drink...
That's £7.80.
Have you got anything smaller? Than a £10 note?!
Well, we're out of change. We'll have some soon. Miranda, darling,
I am going to have to enquire one more time on the tong front.
Oh, bless you, my love. I'm so sorry.
I was busy serving a customer. But I've dealt with him, so I'm all yours.
I'm sure I can do whatever you want me to do. What can I do?
Where did you put the tongs, my love?
They're on top of that machine. Do be patient. You'll get your change.
Um, perhaps, my darling, you left them up there. Oh, yes, you did. There they are.
Thank you so much, darling. How helpful of you. Er... £3.20.
No! I can't do that! I keep telling you people, we're out of change!
Oh, for God's sake! You're a shop! This is what people are gonna do!
They're going to come in here with money and expect to pay with it!
I don't carry round a couple of hundred quid in coins because I'm not a shop!
I've never seen anything so badly run in my life.
For a start, the till should be there, not in the middle.
No wonder you're always under each other's feet.
Put the soup there, so people can help themselves to it,
and then bring it down here. And have some bloody system for writing down the orders,
so that you don't have to ask people what they want six freaking times!
Yes, well...
I've got that in coins if it helps. Pru, it's kicking off!
Ooh! Agh!
Oh!
Aaaah!
Oh, yes. This looks nice and quirky. We could book that out for the day.
Well, I left college, and got really into clubbing
and everything that goes with it, the sex and the drugs.
And I had this dodgy E
and was in a coma for six weeks.
And when I came round I thought, "Something's got to change here."
So I looked round at what I was qualified for
and became a teacher.
'Permanently depleted serotonin levels?
'Call us now on Be A Teacher.'
Thank you very much, Mr Morris.
If the Holloway Road was closed, an alternative would have been?
Junction Road to the Archway Tavern, second left,
then Archway Road all the way up to Highgate Tube.
Thank you very much. Very adequate.
Well, that is the end of the driving part of this interview.
We now turn to conversation. Right.
I would like you to take me from the Congestion Charge to repatriation.
Cor, look at all this traffic, eh? Hm? This traffic, look at it.
All that talk about the Congestion Charge. It hasn't made a bit of difference.
Right. You know who causes all this? It's the Turks in their vans.
Mr Morris...We should send them back... You've lost me. I'm getting my phone. Sorry.
Mr Morris, knowing how to get from Chalk Farm to Barking is all well and good.
Down Prince of Wales Road... Yes, yes, yes. But that is barely half the job.
You have a responsibility, Mr Morris, and a captive audience.
You can't just jump from traffic to Turkish people in their vans
and then be sending them home straightaway.
You'll come across as a frothing loon.
You must beat them into submission slowly, methodically,
until you have them agreeing to things they would never normally do otherwise.
I've got to ask you, sir.
Is it true that you had Glenda Jackson in the back of your cab
and, by the time you dropped her off, you had her agreeing
that women shouldn't be allowed to wear shoes?
I was lucky. There was a diversion around Holborn.
But the move from amiable conversation to raving, reactionary nutterage
is a slow one. You must break their spirit, man.
Right, let's try again, then, shall we? OK.
I would like you to take me from pollution to hanging.
Cor, this pollution makes you choke, dunnit? Hm.
I tell you something else that makes you choke...
Sweet Jesus!
Woo! You ready?
ALL: Yes! Follow me!
Woo!
Swing with the lumberjack.
Five, six, seven, eight.
Woo! Woo!
I am the fox.
Really push the tail. Be the Catholic.
Woo!
Get ready to eat the cranberry axe.
Really push this one.
Drive the weasel to Chester.
Don't forget to say hello to Sally.
Dance with a lesbian.
Sell crack to a ninja.
Do the peoples equate.
Put it all together, and build a consulate.
Can you feel anything?
HE MUMBLES Good.
Spectacular, eh?
Yes, Verdun Gorges, second largest in the world.
A friend of mine's white-water rafting there.
Fabulous country, France. It's got everything, hasn't it?
Mountains, beaches, history, wine.
Just a shame about the toilets.
I mean, you think they would have twigged by now.
Nobody else in Europe likes to crouch.
Actually, that's not strictly true.
I was in Germany once, at a dental conference,
milling about with the old name tag on, as you do.
Ran into this rather wonderful fraulein.
We got chatting. Had a few drinks.
Blah, blah, blah.
And went back to my hotel room.
Well, we didn't waste much time getting down to it.
But then suddenly she spots the glass-topped coffee table in the corner.
"Would you mind awfully," she says,
"if I squat down on that, with you lying underneath?"
And I thought, "Well, why not?"
You know, least I could do, sort of thing.
So I crawled under...
a little bit the worse for wear by now, you know.
All a bit of a blur.
And then she crouches over me
and gathers her thoughts, and then, whomp! Chocks away.
Took me a few seconds to realise she'd taken the glass out.
It's the betrayal of trust,
that was the hardest thing to swallow. Well...
Second hardest.
Are you using your interdental brushes, then?
Ah, Vivien. I've been wondering about some of the four-letter words we offer.
Have you, indeed? For example, if I type in...
I get "shiv".
Ah, yes, "shiv". Is that a word people use?
Of course. Shiv - an improvised, knife-like weapon, as in,
"I dispatched the blaggard with my shiv". The second choice we offer is...
"pigt". Um, as in the abbreviation for the gene
phosphatidylinositol-glycan, class T.
And those, I believe, are all the suggestions we offer.
What about "shit"?
I beg your pardon?
It's a slang word for faeces and, by extension,
anything or anyone of poor quality.
Yes, I-I-I know the term only too well.
Are you seriously suggesting that the sort of people who compose
predictive text messages on their mobiles would ever use a word like "shit"?
I was talking to the milkman this morning,
and he said it's in quite common usage,
so when someone types this, isn't it more likely
that they're trying to write "shit" than "shiv" or "pigt"?
Our job, Gilbert, is to offer people,
not the words they do use, but the words that they SHOULD use.
So you always say. Which is why when someone types in...
we offer them "coal", or "ambl".
Whereas we do not offer them "cock".
Or "anal".
Look, I believe predictive text can be a real force for good,
turning rude messages into politer versions,
such as "sips off, you ducking yanker".
What will that actually achieve? Nothing less than this,
an entire generation of youngsters with manners, courtesy
and a weirdly extensive vocabulary.
But you're living in cloud cuckoo land, Vivien!
It's a new world out there, a new world in which people swear all the bloody time!
All the "aloney" time, do you mean? No, I don't!
Just because we pretend they no longer exist,
these rude words won't just disappear.
And besides, if someone really wants to write, let's say, "bum jockey",
what's to stop them switching to non-predictive mode and spelling it out?
You're a talented boy, Gilbert, and I know you mean well,
but sometimes you really are a total aunt.
Now, Mrs Fife's an outdoorsy woman. Isn't that right, Fife? Quite so.
She makes Baden Powell look lily-livered.
Happiest with a 12 bore tucked under her arm.
Woe betide any rabbits in the vicinity.
Fife here's what our colonial cousins call a sports widow.
Has lots of hobbies to fill up the empty hours.
Had an involvement in amateur conjuring for a while. Yes.
Had to give it up. The sequins from his leotard got everywhere.
Fife has another form of passing the time, though, when he's not at the piano.
And once again we have devised an exploration of the subject in verse,
which we would like to share with you, if we may.
Look at those hands. A surgeon's hands.
'Bout time you gave them back to him, isn't it?
# The children are out of the house
# It's as quiet as a mouse
# Mrs F is off again Bagging pigeon, hare or grouse
# When one finds oneself truly alone, what is a man to do?
# One could put up a shelf Or please oneself
# It's really up to you!
# Knocking off a crafty one
# There's really nothing finer
# Do it in the kitchen
# Lose yourself over the china
# Knocking off a crafty one
# I prefer it to being in bed
# The best kind of aloneness
# An hour or two ahead Of unadulterated pleasure
# Taken at my own pace
# Some Parisian nudes in poses lewd
# Spread out across the place
# And me lying before them Taking myself in hand
# No worry about decorum When you've led a one-man band
# Or if you wanted something racy
# And you like asphyxiation
# An orange and a rope Will get you far
# Hip hurrah! #
Aaah! Penalty, man! That's definitely a penalty!
No way, man, I got the ball. You did not touch the ball, you were nowhere near it.
That is total bullshiv. Bullshiv, bullshiv.
The only bullshiv is coming out of your mouth, man.
You're a cheating piece of pigt. Duck off, man.
Everybody knows you're a coal, you're a ducking fick.
You're a total yanker. Siss off, you assehole.
What did I tell you?