Okay, stand by, everybody. Tangos One and Two have now entered the Arrivals Hall.
-Which has the case, please? -Tango One has the case at this stage.
Right, hold on Tango One, then, please.
Oh, there's been a changeover. Tango One has passed the case to Tango Two.
And Tango Two doesn't want it, he's given it back.
What? Are you sure that is Tango Two?
Well, I thought it was Tango Two. Whoever he is, he didn't…
Oh, no, it's Tango Two all right. He just doesn't want the case.
Well, neither of them wants the case now.
-Well, who has the case? -Tango One.
Well, they're looking around now.
I think they may…
They may just be beginning to get a little bit suspicious now.
I think they may have sensed the camera.
-Have they rumbled our position? -I think they've rumbled our position.
Well, pull out, pull out. All units, trouser, trouser, trouser.
Pull out.
Anyway, the hire car was absolutely ready and waiting when we arrived at Heraklion airport.
We'd done a deal with Hertz, through Amex,
which meant we were able to upgrade the category without paying the extra price differential.
This is one of the Hertz girl, Tonya, with the car.
It's a Renault Mountaineer, specially designed for the Cretan terrain.
Handles beautifully, we were very pleased with the colour.
Were you, by crikey.
Anyway, I'd studied the map of the roads from Heraklion while having lunch on the plane.
-Did I tell you about lunch on the plane? -In some detail, as a matter of fact.
Oh, look, here's another one of the lunch tray.
I don't know how that got in there, must have muddled up the order somehow.
I've been sucked into the deepest pit of hell.
Oh, look. And here's one of the Renault's instrument panel.
Uniquely fascinating.
That's the left-hand control stalk with main beam, wipe wash and hooter on it.
Oh, that's interesting!
And here's one of the right-hand control stalk with indicators and so forth.
Oh, I think this is gonna give me an erection.
Anyway, so we skirted round Souda Bay via Thalakos.
I discovered this marvellous little off-the-beaten-track taverna.
It really was so authentic. Everyone there spoke…
-Really, you should have been there. -Oh, no. I shouldn't.
No, I shouldn't have been there. No.
-This is one of me pointing at my moussaka. -Oh, wait a second, isn't that a revolting sight?
And this is one of me on the toilet half an hour later.
I used a self-timer for that one
because the whole new Minolta range have got self-timers.
Self-timers? Oh, well, then I must leave at once.
I discovered this marvellous little man in Hadia
who developed film the traditional Cretan way.
Nikos his name was, or Costas. Could have been Andreas.
Oh, but I must find out. Which? Which was his name?
-This is him on the toilet. -Go away!
Right. Well, you touch my daughter again and it'll be a slide show. You understand?
-Hello. Both just got time to tell you… -Just.
Just got time, yes. We both, well, we both used to have problems around here, didn't we?
-Just around the eye area. -Certainly did.
-Just there. -And this area as well.
-Here and round there. -That's right. It was awful.
Our eyes just kept coming out, didn't they?
-Couldn't keep them in. It was horrible. -Ghastly. Now, thankfully, it's all cleared up.
-It's stopped happening, hasn't it? -Effectively, yes.
Yes, yes, they don't fall out anymore and we're pleased about that, aren't we?
-Delighted. Yes. -Hmm.
-Officer! -Good morning, sir. Would you like to take a seat?
-Is there a queue? -Well, you may be more comfortable that way.
No. I'm all right standing up, thanks.
My name's Oliver, by the way. Excited to know you.
-Oh, Peter Franks. -Hi, Peter. Peter, listen would you like a coffee?
Filter, espresso, cappuccino. We offer decaf on all of those.
Well, that's very kind. Do you have a tea?
Tea… I don't think so, Peter. I'll just check that for you. Hello, Mabel, my love.
It's Oliver here. Listen, my darling, do we carry a tea machine?
-Sorry, dear. -Yes, I thought not. Many thanks, pet.
-Sorry, Peter, no tea. -Oh, doesn't matter. Don't worry.
-So, how may we help you? -Well, this is a police station, isn't it?
-Well, of course it is, Peter. Yes. -Yes. 'Cause I tried to ring you earlier
but you must have changed your number, all I got was music playing in my ear.
The thing is, my car's been stolen.
-Your car's been stolen? -Yes.
Oh, Peter, I am sorry to hear that.
Aw. And you'd like us to do something about it?
Well, yes, please.
Okay, well, have you had a look at our brochure, Peter? If you'll pardon the pun.
What pun?
Wasn't there one? Oh, I'm sorry. Well, Peter, if you'd like to come with me,
we'll go through it together. Would you like to take a seat?
Now, Peter, we offer basically three kinds of stolen car recovery service.
That's the super, the lovely and the gorgeous.
Now, the super is a basic non-priority listing of your car.
The lovely is higher priority, and the gorgeous is A1 top priority.
We put all our team onto it, field and creative. And that also includes a full waxing and valeting
-of your car on recovery. -I see.
Obviously, Peter, the gorgeous is a more expensive service.
-I beg your pardon? -Do you have an account with us?
-Account? No. -Oh, you're a shareholder, perhaps?
-Well, I'm a citizen, if that's what you mean. -Citizen. Oh, you mean client?
Look, I don't want to sound stupid, but I get back to England, I find my car's been stolen…
Peter, you've been away? Did you perhaps miss the privatisation of the police force?
-The what? -This is now a branch office of Brit Law PLC.
-Would you like to fill out a form? -Fill out a form? Fill out a form?
You mean fill in a form. Has everyone suddenly turned American?
Now, Peter I shall need your address, I shall need your place and date of birth,
your car registration number, and we should be able to have an account verified within 14 days.
-Subject to status. -This is insanity. I'm a taxpayer.
Peter, everybody had a chance to buy shares at the time of issue.
It was all supervised by a reputable merchant bank. Well, by a merchant bank anyway.
-This is madness. I'm leaving. -No, Peter. Not that way. Not that way, Peter.
-What? -That's the High Street.
-Yes? -The High Street is owned by UK Highroads PLC.
We're employed by them to make sure that only those
with valid roadway passes use the street.
But that's the Queen's highway for goodness sake, surely I can use that.
Queen's…? Oh, you have shares in the Royal Family PLC. That would be quite sufficient.
Shares in the… No, of course I haven't.
Well, Peter, I'm afraid I must ask you to come with me to the restraining bar.
Now, if you'd just like to put your hands on the detention knob.
-But I haven't done anything. -Not the gold member cuffs for you.
I'm afraid we'll have to use the bronze, Master Peter.
-No, no. Absolutely… no. No, I refuse. No. -Now, Peter. Peter.
-Peter? -What?
Well, you haven't changed that much, then.
Welcome to Argue the Toss. My tosser this week is Simon Clituris.
Simon Clituris, you saw that sketch. What did you think?
-Well, I thought the sketch worked on two levels. -Only two?
Ah. Yes, you're right. I'm being simplistic. I thought it worked on nine levels.
-I thought I spotted 12. -Yes, yes. Well, yes, 12 if you include the…
But, for heaven's sake, let's be condescending about this.
-Absolutely. -I thought it worked, on the one hand,
as a simple satire on modern Britain.
And on the other hand, as a metaphor for the problem of redemption.
-What about the underlying theme? -Ah. Which one?
Well, the underlying theme of a man desperately trying to recover his stolen car.
Well, that I thought was the least successful of all the underlying themes. It didn't work for me.
-That's where the sketch really just disappeared. -Simply vanished?
-Completely vanished. -I see. And the main characters?
Well, I felt I didn't know enough about them. I was reminded of those occasions
when one is asked to sleep with someone one doesn't know particularly well.
Consequently, I was nervous and the whole thing was a disappointment.
-In a word. -Brilliant.
Simon Clituris, thank you very much.
Welcome to Up the Arts. Martin Utrecht, you saw those critics there.
-Were you impressed by what they had to say? -Let me say that it seems to me
that what they were trying to achieve was essentially two-fold.
I don't think it would be quite fair to judge them on that small extract we just saw.
Good. So what was your judgement of the small extract we just saw?
Well, it seems to me that they were trying to assess a comedy sketch, a humouresque routine…
Did that work for you? For me, there was something about their criticism
that was, I don't know, what's the word? Sterile?
I was going to say fertile. Hardly different. No, I have to say it didn't work for me, no.
I think, on the one hand, they were trying to encompass too much.
They were overambitious.
I was going to say overcautious. Yes. Hardly different.
And, on the other hand, they were trying to present themselves as viable human beings
-attempting to make sense of their… of their, um… -Environment?
I was going to say trousers. Hardly different.
Trousers, environment. Environment, trousers. It's a kind of square.
I was gonna say circle. Much the same thing. And on the other hand…
Ah, you've got three hands.
-I've got three hands… -They, of course, were doing a two-hander.
Would they have benefited from an extra hand? Would that have come in… useful?
I feel with an extra hand, they might just have got away with it.
Did you enjoy their criticism?
Oh, I loved it. I wanted to go to bed with it and kiss it in many soft, private, little places.
So their future as critics, bulbous, would you say?
Yes, perineal. The exact word.
-So we're agreed? -Of course not.
Hello, welcome to Oh, No, Not Another One.
Of all the deodorants, this is the one that I enjoy using most.
It feels real nice going on and it smells good
and keeps me dry all day.
I don't have to worry about it cutting out in clutch moments.
All of the other ones are just…
I don't know. They just never seem to hold up under pressure for me.
I can put this on once during the day
and for the rest of the day I'm fine, I'm all set up.
I don't have to worry about, you know, social nervousness or anything.
It's just… It keeps me feeling good and fresh and I love the smell.
I don't think there's any deodorant that comes close to this one.
I think it was Donald Mainstock, the great amateur squash player,
who pointed out how lovely I was.
Until that time, I think it was safe to say
that I had never really been aware of my own timeless brand of loveliness.
But his words smote me because, of course you see,
I am lovely in a fluffy moist kind of a way and who would have it otherwise?
I walk, let's be splendid about this,
in a lightly accented cloud of gorgeousness that isn't far short of being, quite simply, terrific.
The secret of smooth almost shiny loveliness of the order of which we're discussing
in this simple, frank, creamy soft way
doesn't reside in oils, unguents, balms, ointments, creams, astringents, milks, moisturisers,
liniments, lubricants, embrocations or balsams, to be rather divine for just one noble moment.
It resides, and I mean this in a pink, slightly special way, in one's attitude of mind.
To be gorgeous and high and true and fine and fluffy and moist and sticky and lovely,
all you have to do is to believe that one is gorgeous and high and true and fine and fluffy
and moist and sticky and lovely.
And I believe it of myself, tremulously at first, and then with mounting heat and passion
because, stopping off for a second to be super again, I'm so often told it.
That's the secret really.
Waiter.
-Sir? -There's something wrong with my soup.
Oh, I wouldn't say that, sir. It looks very smart to me.
What?
Nice pinstripe.
No, no. No, my soup. There's something wrong with my soup.
Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I thought you said suit.
It, um, tastes… odd, somehow.
-What does? -My soup.
-Does it? -Hmm.
-May I, sir? -Please do.
Thank you.
-Seems all right to me. -No. No, my soup. My soup tastes odd.
-Oh, your soup! -Yes.
-Oh, dear! -Taste it.
I just have, sir.
Not my suit. I want you to try my soup.
Oh, I'd rather not if you don't mind, sir.
-Why not? -Probably too long in the arms.
No, no, no. What's the matter with you?
I'm talking about my soup.
S-O-U-P.
-Oh, your soup! -Yes!
-Is there something wrong with it, sir? -Well, I've told you. It tastes odd.
-Well, may I, sir? -Please.
Thank you so much.
-Ah, yes. -“Ah, yes” what?
It's the cyanide, sir.
I beg your pardon?
Chef does occasionally, in my opinion, tend to overstress the cyanide in his pottage.
Are you telling me that the chef has put cyanide in the soup?
No, sir, he's put cyanide in the soup.
-That's what I said. -Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I thought you said suit.
This is outrageous!
Would you like me to bring you some soup without cyanide in it, sir?
-Yeah. No, I mean… -Or perhaps something else from the menu?
Well, why? Why has the chef put cyanide in the soup?
He has a club foot, sir.
-What? -The chef has a club foot.
Well, I've got a bent nose but I don't go around massacring perfectly innocent diners.
-There's no cyanide in the mozzarella salad, sir. -Oh, yippee.
Just a hint of strychnine but not so as you'd notice.
Oh, this is absurd.
You're right. It is completely ridiculous.
Well, would you like to be a comedy writer?
What's happened is that we've deliberately left this sketch without a tagging punch line.
Or ending, as we call it in the trade.
That's right. Now, that's where you come in.
The lines are now open for you to phone in your payoff to this hilarious skitlet.
But just as an added difficulty, we're not actually going to give you the telephone number to ring.
No, that's right. You have to use your skill and judgement
to think up a witty, apt and amusing telephone number of your own.
And if British Telecom think it's funny enough, they'll put you through to our switchboard here.
Hello.
And we have a clear winner straightaway. Mr JD Ward of Basildon.
Well, well done, JD Ward.
If you'll be so kind as to let us know your chest size,
we'll send you a A Bit of Fry & Laurie chequebook and pen straightaway.
-Well, let's go back to where we were, then. -Right.
Oh, this is absurd.
You're right. It is completely ridiculous.
The brown soup has no cyanide in it whatsoever, sir.
-The brown soup? -That's right, sir.
No toxics, radioactive particles or microbes of any description?
Not a drop, sir.
-I'll have some of that, then. -Right you are, sir.
Honestly.
Nice one, JD.
Now, ladies and gentlemen,
Mr Hugh Laurie has kindly agreed to embarrass us all with a song of his own composing
entitled, quite simply, Mystery.
Mr Hugh Laurie. Mystery.
♫ Mystery
♫ All my life has been a mystery
♫ You and I were never ever meant to be
♫ That's why I call my love for you a mystery
♫ Different country
♫ You and I have always lived in a different country
♫ And I know that airline tickets don't grow on a tree
♫ So what kept us apart is plain for me to see
♫ That much at least is not really a mystery
♫ Estuary
♫ I live in a houseboat on an estuary
♫ Which is handy for my work with the Thames Water Authority
♫ But I know you would have found it insanitary
♫ Insanitary
♫ Taken a violent dislike to me
♫ I'd be foolish to ignore the possibility
♫ That if we'd ever actually met you might have hated me
♫ Still, that's not the only problem that I can see
♫ Dead since 1973
♫ You've been dead now
♫ Wait a minute, let me see
♫ Fifteen years come next January
♫ As a human being, you are history
♫ So why do I still long for you?
♫ Why is my love so strong for you?
♫ Why did I write this song for you?
♫ Well, I guess it's just a mystery
♫ Mystery ♫
Mr Marsh?
Mmm-hmm.
Would you like me to take your bags up to your executive suite, Mr Marsh?
Oh, no, thanks very much. I'm gonna be checking out in the morning…
Gordon Inglis, as I live and close a sale, you crazy old buffalo.
-What the hell are you doing here? -Oh, Stuart Marsh,
you turbo-charged son of a mass retailer. How are you?
Well, I'm hanging pretty tough, Gordon. Hanging pretty tough.
What about yourself? Things not going so well, eh?
Oh, no. I'm strictly moving to the rhythm, Stu. Why do you ask?
Why do I ask? Well, Gordon, really. I mean, being a porter in a hotel,
it's hardly the big time, is it?
No… Stuart, that was a joke.
Oh, well, then! Blimey, that's nice. I like that very much. Yeah, very good.
So tell me, you old roister-doister, what the hell are you doing in Telford?
The last I heard you were based out of Peterborough.
Yeah, I did a spell in Peterborough, Gordon. It's part of a big new management shake up,
but right now I'm fixing up to meet with old Derek Clark.
Derek “the Fiddler” Clark?
♫ If I was a rich man ♫
The man's a legend.
So tell me, you're gonna be working under Derek Clark now, is that it?
Well, not so much under, Gordon, more kind of alongside.
I'm gonna be a sort of flexible, highly-resourced, independently-targeted,
free-range trouble-shooter, if you like.
Free-range? Sounds challenging.
Anyway, he and I are supposed to be having a working breakfast together.
I'd ask you to join us, Gordon, but, you know…
Oh, no Sweatsville, Idaho, Stu.
So tell me, do they do a good working breakfast here?
I don't believe I've ever actually working-breakfasted at this hotel before.
They only do the best working breakfast in the state of Telford, Gordon.
Waiter.
Gordon, you'll take some coffee, surely.
Well, I don't know. How does the coffee perform?
Oh, the coffee performs okay, Gordon. Don't you worry about that.
Waiter, pot of coffee for two.
Make sure it's hot, strong and in a pot. Okay? For two.
If you see Mr Clark, tell him I'm in the executive breakfast lounge, will you?
How will I know Mr Clark, sir?
I beg your pardon.
How will I recognise Mr Clark?
Are you trying to be funny?
Derek Clark, he's… You know, his lapel badge. He's with Unitec.
-Lapel badge! -Yes, sir.
And he's to meet you in the breakfast lounge.
In the executive breakfast lounge.
-There's only one breakfast lounge, sir. -Yes, and it's the executive breakfast lounge!
Right. I'll tell him, sir.
Hey, sonny.
Come here.
If you've got any thoughts about making it in the hotel business,
then you better just watch your lip, okay? That's all.
-I'm sorry… -That's all. Thank you.
That's all. Thank you very much, waiter! That is all.
The kid's just green, Stu.
Oh, Gordon, when you and I were green…
we didn't go around giving lip to busy senior executives.
No, we used to give them a bit of tongue from time to time.
-So, looks like Derek Clark stood you up. -No, it's all right.
He rang down and said he was having a bit of trouble with the trouser press in his room.
It's an executive trouser press, you see.
Derek tried to put an ordinary leisure trouser on it and, not surprisingly, the machine wouldn't play.
-What a son of a bitch. -Yeah.
So what about yourself, Gordon. What's keeping you off the streets these days?
Well, actually, I've gone into business for myself, Stuart.
Yeah? I hope you're taking good advice.
The very best. I've got hold of a new kind of bank account.
It's called… Smug.
I wish you the very best of luck, Gordon.
I really do, because you and I, hey, we go all the way back.
Oh, right the way back to the end zone, Stu.
You know what they used to call us back in Reading?
-What was that? -The wild dogs of retailing.
-Wild dogs. -Yeah. Yeah.
You and I, we broke a few moulds in our time, eh, Gordon?
-Yeah, and a few eggs. -Yeah.
-Eggs? -You can't make an omelet…
-Yes, I can. -No, you can't.
-Yes, I can. -Not without breaking eggs.
So what if I can't, Gordon?
I mean, I'm a busy man. My talents lie in other directions.
No, no. I mean, you can't make an omelet without breaking eggs.
What is this, Cookery Corner? I don't need this, Gordon, all right?
I'm about to have a working breakfast with the toughest divisional sales manager since Moses
and all of a sudden you're giving me a list of all the things I can't do!
Thanks for the support, partner.
-No, Stu, I only meant… -What am I supposed to say?
“Derek, I'm not right for this job, choose someone else. I can't make an omelet.”
-No, you can, Stu. But not without… -It's delegation, Gordon. I don't have the time.
I want an omelet, I go to an omelet-maker. Does that make me a failure?
All right, I'm a failure. I can't make an omelet without breaking eggs.
Well, no one can, Stu. That's the point. It's impossible.
-What do you mean, it's impossible? -It can't be done.
What do you think I've been eating all these years? I had an omelet last night.
Yeah, but they broke the eggs.
I hardly think they'd use broken eggs in executive room service, Gordon.
Do you know what I'd like to know?
-Have you told me before? -No.
Then how can I possibly?
I'd like to know why, oh, why, oh, why
the word gay has been so ruthlessly hijacked from our beloved English language.
I agree with your question 100%.
-Gay used to be such a lovely word. -A lovely word.
Yes. You can't use it anymore. It's been taken away from us.
That's right. No longer can ordinary people, such as we,
use an ordinary word, like gay, in an ordinary example of the great British sentence.
Without people thinking that you mean poofy. It's a disgrace.
Damn shame.
And there's another one, you see? Poofy. You can't say that anymore.
-Of course you can't. -Used to.
-All the time. -Yes, but now…
-Now. -…people think you mean arse bandit.
Arse bandit. There you go again, you see?
-Well, of course you do. -You know, arse bandit.
-Perfectly decent couple of words. -That's right.
-Used to use them every day. -So did I.
“Would you care to have a go on the arse bandit?” One used to ask, quite innocently.
Yes. Yes, or, “Back in a moment, darling. I'm just taking the arse bandit to the menders.”
Yeah.
-But now, of course… -Nowadays.
-…people think you mean homosexual. -Right.
-And there's another one. -Yeah.
When was the last time you could use the word homosexual in its proper context?
-Right, and it's such a lovely word. -Oh, it's one of the great words.
“My word, Jane,” I used to say to my wife, “the garden's looking very homosexual this morning.”
Quite right. Quite right. Lovely word.
One of the great words. Always were.
“Landlord, I'll have two foaming pints of your most homosexual beer, thank you.”
“Oh, and a packet of arse bandits as well.”
Right. Yes. Yes. Yes. “And keep the change.”
-Right. -Yes.
-But now… -Nowadays.
-People just laugh at you. -That's right.
Oh, well, I'm off to the dry-cleaner's to pick up a couple of screaming benders.
-Are you coming? -I don't see why not.
Then we can get them home and go to bed with them.
-That's right. -That's right.
Morning. You're ugly.
No.
Um…
We're not… We're not doing that one.
No. If you remember, I didn't like it.
I thought that was quite funny, that one.
-Yes. Yes, we'll be doing this one instead. -Right. All right then.
Right.
Huh. I can see you've fallen in love already, sir.
-Oh, hello. Yes, I was just looking at the… -The Aston Martin. Isn't she beautiful?
To be honest with you, that's the best car in the place, that one.
Out of all of them, that is the best one in the place.
Only come in Tuesday, as a matter of fact.
Obviously it's not for me. It's for my nephew.
-It's his birthday tomorrow. He'll be nine. -Yeah, that's nice.
And he told me he's set his heart on an Aston Martin so…
Yeah, well, you know, who wouldn't?
To be honest with you, if I had the money, that is the one I would…
You know, for my own personal use, I would choose that one.
-You can have a go on it if you want. -Really?
Yeah, sure. I'll get it out for you.
-Goes a bit, doesn't it? -Yeah.
Sounds a bit rough to me.
Yeah, that's 'cause you're not getting your tongue far enough back in your throat. That's why.
-Like that, you see? -Oh, right. Yeah.
Oh, yes. Good. So how much is it?
The Aston Martin DB6 Plantagenet silver.
Oh, that's £4.
-£4? -Yeah.
And it's one owner. Immaculate history.
It's not new, then?
Oh, no. No, no, no. No, you won't get a new Aston for £4.
That is cheap. That is a good price.
For an Aston, £4 is cheap. I'm telling you.
Obviously, we make sure that the vehicle is completely immaculate before it goes out of here.
We do a complete five-point check on the vehicle.
We clean and polish it…
and then we do the other four things that are included in the five-point check.
Basically, we do everything that is humanely possible to the car.
Look, if you're not sure, you know, why not bring your nephew in?
You know, if he knows about Astons. Maybe he'd like to have a look underneath it.
We can have a look underneath it now if you want.
-Clean. Yeah. -It is clean. It is clean. Yes.
Do you exchange?
-Well, what's he got at the moment? -A tractor.
Well, I'll be lucky to shift a tractor by new year.
Maybe 40p.
He is very fond of his tractor.
All right, then. It's his birthday. You're an ugly bastard. 50p.
I'd just like to tell you about this cigarette case.
It used to belong to my grandfather on my parents' side.
He was given it by his god-niece as a kind of loss of virginity present, really.
He took it with him to Flanders in 1912 when he went there on holiday.
Then he took it again in 1915 when he went to fight in the war.
Now, what grandfather used to do is he would keep cigarettes in it like this.
And if he wanted one, he would simply take it out, smoke it and close the case again.
Now, he used to keep his cigarette case here,
in the breast pocket of his field tunic, or battle blouse.
Now, one day grandfather had to go over the top, out of the trenches into action
and he was shot by a German sniper
clean through the temple.
Now, if grandfather had worn his cigarette case here…
um…
it would have an unpleasant dent in it…
and I'd be alive today.
Oh, that's… That's brilliant, that is. That's fantastic.
What?
The wars are funny now, are they?
The First World War was just a joke to you, I suppose, was it?
Well, yes, not very well-told.
Oh, right, so the Great War and World War II were just vast entertainments
laid on for your benefit, were they?
Well, if you put it that way, then obviously yes.
Do you know, I wonder, what it's like to die?
-Erm… no, I don't, actually. -No, right.
But do you think it's funny that millions of people died for you?
I don't think millions of people did die for me. They didn't know me. I wasn't born.
They happened to be dying for generations yet unborn,
-which I think includes you. -Yes, but they didn't know that, did they?
They didn't go into battle shouting,
“Let's die for Stephen Fry who may or may not be born one day.”
-They were just obeying orders. -Oh, forget it. Forget it.
Sick, you are.
Sick.
Well, I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen. I mean, the fact is I am sick.
But I don't think even Hugh knows quite how sick I am.
The fact is, and this is something only Hugh's closest friends are aware of,
that he has been suffering now for sometime
from a gradual but persistent deterioration in his eyesight.
Normally, it's absolutely fine. No one would ever know.
He learns the position of all the furniture, all the props on stage and no one could ever guess.
But today, so sick am I, I just went out this morning and moved everything here just…
Oh, dear. I'm sorry. It was sick of me.
As you can see, he's completely disoriented. I don't know…
I don't know why I did it. I'm sorry. It was sick of me.
-All right. Come on, let's get on with it. -Sorry. On with the sketch.
Soldiers are…
Now, I don't know how to tell you this so I'm going to have to come straight out with it.
-I'm afraid I can't let you go on the escape. -I'm sorry, sir?
-I can't let you go on the escape. -Well, why not, sir?
Because, Whitlow, because you're blind. That's why not.
-No, I'm not, sir. -You're blind, Whitlow,
and I can't jeopardise the lives of 14 other prisoners
just because one of the members of the escape party happens to be blind.
-Pardon, sir? -I said, I can't…
-What's the matter? Are you deaf? -Yes, sir.
-You're deaf and blind? -No, just deaf, sir.
No, you're blind as well, Whitlow. You keep bumping into things.
Oh, that! Oh, well, that's just a joke, sir.
It's not very funny, is it?
Well, the chaps like it, sir.
-If you'll pardon the pun. -What pun?
-Wasn't there a pun? Oh, I'm sorry. -No.
All right, you claim you can see. I have here, Whitlow, an electric carving knife.
I'm going to plug it in, switch it on and throw it at you.
If you don't drop it, I'll let you go on the escape.
I'm sorry, I didn't catch that, sir.
I haven't thrown it yet.
Actually, I was telling a bit of a lie just now.
-Ah, you mean you're not deaf? -No, I mean I am blind.
-You're blind and deaf? -Pardon?
Well, I can't very well let you go on the escape if you're deaf and blind, now can I?
It was a forlorn hope, sir, yes.
Just a moment. If you're deaf, how can you hear what I'm saying?
-I can lip-read, sir. -Ah, I see.
Lip-read?
-But you're blind! -Pardon?
How can you read my lips if you're blind?
Oh, well, it's because I'm deaf, sir, that my sense of vision is naturally enhanced.
Blind people are known to have very keen hearing. So they sort of cancel each other out, sir.
-You mean you can see and hear perfectly? -Yes, because I'm blind and deaf.
One miraculously compensates for the other.
You poor beggar, but I still can't let you go on the escape.
It's because I'm dumb, isn't it, sir?
-It's a talker's world. -What are you talking about?
If you can't talk, you're nobody, nothing, a zero.
Whitlow, shut up.
They think it means I'm stupid, but I've got ideas…
Be quiet, Whitlow. You're not coming on this escape.
If it's because I can't smell, sir.
You are not coming on this escape and that is final.
But, sir, I lost my sense of smell while forging the minutest details
of a thousand Nazi documents.
I know that, Whitlow, but you can't come because you're a bastard and we hate you.
-We don't want you to come. -Oh, fair enough, sir.
Oh, hi, Bradley.
I just looked in to see if I couldn't have a borrow of your garden sprinklie.
Oh, sure, mate. Help yourself. It's over there in the coolie.
Thanks, mate.
By the way, how are Javelina and Trevelin these days?
Jings, mate, don't reopen old wounds.
Was I doing that, Craig? Was I reopening old wounds?
-Old sores? -You certainly were.
Listen, Shane, a word to the wise.
If you wanna re-establish your relationship with those two,
you've got to stop running away from yourself.
Jings, mate, don't you think I know that?
Don't you think I've tried not running away from myself?
It seems like every time I look out the window, there I go haring down the street.
-Away from yourself? -Away from myself, precisely.
How does Donna feel about this?
Owen, I'm gonna ask you man to man, leave Donna out of this.
All right, I'm sorry. Keep your sweat on.
It's okay, mate.
It's just that ever since Morwenna's graphic design studio went down the tubes,
I just seem to have withdrawn right into myself.
Oh, heck, Findley. You can't blame yourself for that.
Sean over-capitalised. You warned him time and time enough.
Yeah, but performance is the bottom line, Clark,
and I hold myself accountable in no small measure.
Well, how do you think I feel, Declan, for crike's sakes, eh?
I personally underwrote the equity on Yvonne's marital boutique.
It's my ass on the bottom line, too, you know.
Listen, you leave Yvonne out of this, all right?
Jings, mate, I'm sorry. God, it's pretty stuffy in here.
Why don't we get some fresh air?
Sure, mate, help yourself. There's some air freshener in the dunnie over there.
Oh, by the way, I know what it was I wanted to say to you.
We're having a barbie tomorrow night. Do you want to come along?
You leave Barbie out of this!
No, a barbecue.
It's to celebrate the opening of Morkwinda's new executive fitness centre and garage.
-Do you want to come? -Sounds great.
Okay, then.
-Oh, Jims! -What?
I've just seen Joycie coming up the pathie.
Oh, Jims!
Listen, there's something I've been discussing with Castella and Lilette.
And I'd rather that, you know, Joycie and Lenore didn't find out about it.
What? Spit it out, mate, she's almost here.
Look, I don't know how to tell you this, mate. It's hard for me to say. The fact is…
I've been having, well, affair, it's the only word.
I've been having an affair with you for sometime now.
-What? -It's true.
You bastard!
Look, mate, you had to find out sooner or later and I'd just rather it came from me, that's all.
You mean we've been sleeping together all this time?
Behind my back?
I've said I'm sorry. I don't know what else I can say.
The fact is that…
I was vulnerable and you were there.
You leave me out of this!
I've said I'm sorry. I just don't know what else I can say, mate.
Why am I always the last one to know?
It won't happen again, Vin. I promise.
I just wish that if you were gonna sleep with me, ou could at least have done it to my face.
I'll bear that in mind for next time.
The truth is, mate, I was confused and slightly bewildered.
I'd just discovered that Durnik isn't my real father.
He isn't! Well, then who is?
I am.
-Then that must mean that you must be… -Exactly.
Devlin's half-sister's wife's doctor's cousin's niece.
Well, then who the hell am I?
I don't know, mate, but it's your round.