That Mitchell and Webb Look (2006) s03e03 Episode Script
Episode 3
- Girls want more wine.
- Over there.
So, what are we having, chef? Lentil and feta salad and roasted squash.
Smashing.
And main course? That is the main course.
Right Problem? Well, it's just, er I don't eat vegetarian.
What do you mean? I'm a meat eater.
But, Mark, you know Wendy and I are veggie.
Yes, I know.
And when you two came round for dinner, we made you a mushroom risotto, and I was sort of expecting you to return the effort.
I'll have some meat, please.
Sorry.
I didn't know you felt so strongly about it.
It's an ethical thing.
I don't think humans should be treated like this.
Well, umwhat can I say? We don't really do meat in this house.
Oh, come on! You must have some meat somewhere around here.
What was that I saw wandering around earlier? The cat? That'll do.
I'll have that, with some rice.
No, that's the cat.
It looked quite lean and gamey.
But it's ours - it's a pet.
You mean you keep an animal in captivity for no reason? That's barbaric.
At least pigs are for sausages.
Ah, no.
You see, they're not.
They're actually highly intelligent creatures.
Oh, yeah, right(!) They're doing secretarial work on the farm.
Come on! They're sausage fodder.
Why else would anyone keep pigs? Well, toto Because Pig cheese? Pig wool? Well Pigs are expensive, pink and annoying, but they're also delicious, which is why we breed so many of them.
There might be a few polar bears left if more people wanted one for breakfast.
What? "Where are the pigs, Daddy?" "In the zoo.
More mushroom risotto, anyone?" Oh, not so caring now.
Face it - you want to hound a species to extinction.
Me? I just wanna eat some meat.
- Shit! - Exactly.
All right, then.
- Here, puss, puss, puss, puss, puss! - There's a hammer under the sink.
- Gotcha.
- And not a word about this to Wendy.
And pray, Miss Bennet, what do you call this quaint country dance? We call it the conga, Miss Bingley.
I am surprised you have not heard of it.
Do you hear that, Mr Darcy? Miss Bennet chides us for our ignorance of local customs.
I certainly did not mean to chide.
But I confess myself surprised by Mr Darcy's behaviour.
Miss Bennet, you astound me.
What could there be in the behaviour of poor Mr Darcy that provokes such hasty slander? Forgive my impertinence.
I merely wished to observe that Mr Darcy refuses to partake of the conga, yet gentlemen are scarce and there are plainly several young ladies left wholly out of the conga.
But what in heavens has this to do with Mr Darcy? MUTTERING: It's meant to go boy-girl, boy-girl.
- Mr Darcy? - It's meant to go boy-girl, boy-girl.
You are right, Miss Bennet.
Perhaps I am too hard.
It is only in defence of my rank that I feel bound to abstain.
A gentleman does not conga.
I would be loath to make a habit of contradicting you, sir, but my father is a gentleman and he congas with the best of them.
Perhaps it is not simply the conga, but all manner of dance that you consider beneath your station.
Indeed not, Miss Bennet.
But you must allow that the only dance that my position could possibly support is that of freestyle disco.
Know you not, Miss Bennet, that Mr Darcy has been freestyle disco champion of all Derbyshire these last dozen years? - I confess I did not know.
- In faith, what would appear to be the summation of all that you do not know, Miss Bennet, would make for quite Oh, Caroline! Will you please shut the fuck up?! Perhaps, Mr Darcy, you would be good enough to favour us with a brief exhibition of your freestyle disco prowess.
It has been forced upon me from the start.
I assure you, it gives me no pleasure.
HARPSICHORD PLAYS: Baby, One More Time Thank you, Sue.
Well, for today's Weatherview, I'm up on the roof of Broadcasting House, and it's really quite something in the sunshine - quite a view.
Well, as you can see, it's a glorious morning here in London and it's set to stay that way, with highs of 24 degrees, so make sure you wear plenty of sun cream out there.
And you'll be glad to hear that in the south-east this weather will be with us for the rest of the week, which is good news for Wimbledon, but bad news for hay fever sufferers, as the pollen count Why didn't you stop him? the pollen count will get pretty high.
And that's the weather for now.
Back to you in the studio, Sue.
Damn it! This isn't booze! Are you an Olympic athlete who craves a proper drink at the end of a race? You know, like in the good old days? Then you need Glucozade Port the world's first alcoholic isotonic drink.
Wow! I'm fully recovered and smashed.
Look at these other athletes with their water! They're just fully recovered.
The fools.
Dahh! Glucozade Port rehydrates your body, then dehydrates it again at the same time.
It doesn't help athletes perform better, but it makes them THINK they're performing better.
No, no, honestly, I run much better when I'm pissed.
Oh! You're not Mr and Mrs Mountjoy, are you? Yes.
No, Ginger, she'll never buy that.
Mr and Mrs Mountjoy are my servants and they arranged this encounter.
- Meeting.
- Meeting, good one.
And what was it you wanted? Funds.
I'm organising an expedition to the pole.
I'm calling security.
Which pole - undecided.
Both poles have their charms.
She's not going for it, sir.
Quick, get the copper out of the walls! SINGING: Dick Barton Theme SIR DIGBY: In a society whose toothy fake smile is ravaged by the plaque of death and the vodka burp of subprime mortgages, who will floss into the darkest cavities of our despair and see if there are any gold fillings you could swap for a can of peppermint-flavoured antifreeze? Yes, it's the Surprising Adventures of me, Sir Digby Chicken Caesar.
SINGING PETERS OUT Oh Seeing as it was a bank, sir, we could have just swiped some money.
Why didn't you say so before, you idiot? TYRES SCREECH Well, I think we've really cracked the special guest problem.
- Bruno Brookes said yes? - Better.
- Bruno Brookes said no? - Second prize, TWO weeks in Blackpool.
What? Never mind.
But who's the highest profile special guest you can think of? Brendan Foster.
- Is he? - Yeah, Brendan Foster.
He'd be amazing.
Yeah, well, we haven't got Brendan Foster.
Oh! Now, think of someone even more famous than Brendan Foster.
But Ron Pickering's dead.
It's nothing to do with athletics.
- Athletics? I thought they were authors.
- What? Are they not authors? No.
Butlook, anyway, think of the most famous person in the country.
Think royal.
Oh, my God! Prince Charles! - Better.
- Oh, er - Prince Charles.
- No, better.
Prince Charles! No.
Er Princess Diana? No.
Stupid.
Oh, God, Prince Charles! The Queen! We've got the bloody Queen.
I thought she was dead.
Faites vos jeux, messieurs, dames.
I'm going in.
Roger.
Standing by.
Monsieur is very generous.
There's a hell of a lot of government money riding on this, Suave.
But why me? Because you're the best damn guesser of the weight of a fruit cake in the service.
Two pounds, six ounces? Je suis desole, monsieur, mais non.
Two poundsseven ounces.
Monsieur wins again.
Nouveau gateau, s'il vous plait.
This is your target.
And, Suave be careful.
He is very, very good at guessing how much a fruit cake weighs.
So am I.
I know.
But he is as well.
We'll see about that.
No, he really is.
That's what they say about me.
Yes, I know, but you both It's going to be close, that's the point.
I'm nervous now.
- Ah! A new opponent.
- Yes.
I'm quite prepared to take you on.
Or should I say, CAKE you on? MUTTERING: Guys, you've gotta do better than that.
- Oh, sorry(!) - Jimmy Carr was never like this.
Three pounds and seven ounces.
Three pounds and four ounces.
Four pounds exactly.
Five pounds and one ounce.
Two pounds and nine ounces.
That's quite a small cake.
Too small for your blood, Mr Suave? MUTTERING: You're worse than his guys.
He's on to us.
On the contrary.
I think I'd like to go all in.
Three ounces.
Four ounces.
Monsieur wins.
Please, monsieur, I'm a sportsman.
Let me give you the chance to win your money back.
One game, no limits, double or nothing.
Weight of a fruit cake? No.
How many coins in the jar? Bran tub? No, no.
Whack the rat.
Do you mean wanking? Oh, no, he's gone rogue.
No.
I meant - You've been lucky tonight.
- Yeah.
Maybe I'll get luckier still.
Do you mean when you're cupping MY fishy ball? I'm not saying that! - That was good.
- Anne Robinson would have said it.
Yeah.
And, Suave, good luck.
I won't need luck.
You're going to a casino.
Oh, God, yes! That's right.
Yeah, blimey! Fingers crossed.
Will you kiss my rat whacker for luck? I thought you'd never ask.
Urgh! You win this time, Mr Suave.
Now I must retire for the night.
Yes, I must say BOTH: I'm whacked.
Lazy, double-crossing shits! You made us look like dicks in there.
THUMP! I suppose you're doing this for kicks.
That's exactly the kind of shit we're talking about.
BOTH: That was good! THUD! .
.
with the most beautiful woman in the world - my wife.
APPLAUSE And now, ladies and gentlemen, please show your appreciation for the best man.
Um, "the most beautiful woman in the world"? I don't think so, mate.
I mean, honestly GROANING No, I'm not being nasty.
It's not nasty to say someone isn't the most beautiful woman in the world.
And she looks, you know, fine, good, very presentable, better than ever.
Just not better than everyone.
GROANING What?! Sorry, Jane, you've not been thinking you're the most beautiful woman in the world, have you? Why would you think that? BOOING Wh? Have you all gone mad? She is not the most beautiful woman in the world! She's top halfprobably.
But that's largely because of her relative youth.
GROANING Look, that's not rude! There's no-one in this room who's anywhere near that attractive.
I mean, one of the bridesmaids is pretty tasty, but not, you know, world class.
MAN: You're not so hot yourself! I never said I was! He said that SHE was the most beautiful woman in the world, and I just wouldn't want their life together to kick off with a lie.
To me, she's the most beautiful woman in the world, so just get on with it.
OK, to you, right.
But you know she's not really, deep down.
You're not mad.
You just fancy her more than she is objectively attractive.
Which is good! That's exactly who should be getting married - two people who are a little bit deluded in each other's favour.
That's what love is, isn't it? SHOUTING Look If the most beautiful woman in the world was getting married, that would be big news - the papers would be here.
There'd have been champagne, not Prosecco.
Oh, my God! II like Prosecco! I'm not complaining! Look, why is it suddenly rude for me to say that he's average-looking, she scrubs up pretty well, but Audrey Hepburn she ain't, and there have been weddings more expensive than this? We all know these things.
They shouldn't be a cause for despair.
I was gonna tell an anecdote about when he had to run naked through the lobby of a hotel, but that might provoke suicides from those of you who were apparently under the impression that this was Olympus itself and we were witnessing the union of the gods.
BARRACKING Yeah, all right, all right.
Have a nice evening.
Was I all right? Really good, mate.
Really good.
- We'll take, then.
- Ready there? Andaction! PIANO PLAYS SCALES Sothe Queen why did she agree to do this? Pissed off they never asked her on Extras.
Right.
When they said the piano tuner was blind, I didn't realise they meant the Queen.
She's standing in the wrong place again.
Sorry She's not very good, is she? Oh, thank God you said it.
I thought I was the only one.
- No, she's shit, isn't she? - Yeah.
I thought she had TV experience.
Well, she's on at Christmas before Shrek.
Cut.
I don't think we can use any of this.
I mean, not even on the DVD.
We've got to use it! It's the Queen! - We've got the Queen! - Yeah, but she's terrible.
I mean, was that quite funny thing that Prince Philip did, but then the Queen kind of ruined it by just staring down the lens.
Wellwe could pixel her out.
I think that's treason.
Look, screw you, if that's your attitude! We cannot work with her! She is terrible.
What did you see her in that made you think she was good? The Queen.
I saw her in The Queen.
That was Helen Mirren! We are truly blessed today, Hennimore, for our schism with Rome may finally be at an end.
I've been hoping for that, sir.
A rare cine film of Pope John XXIII proposing reconciliation has recently been unearthed.
And because of my uncanny physical resemblance to the Holy Father several senior Anglican bishops are coming here to my office to watch it at four.
And I don't need to tell you what the re-catholicisation of England could mean to all of us here at Ampleforth Rosary Supplies.
Spectacles, testicles, sir.
I shall be in a meeting when they arrive so it's up to you to settle them down and put on the film.
You can rely on me, sir.
On an unrelated note, my wife and I have recently completed our 23rd explicit home movie for our sexual therapist, John, and the courier should be here at about five to four to pick it up, - so make sure he gets it.
- Will do, sir.
It hasn't escaped my notice that these identical canisters of film are labelled, for perfectly viable reasons of their own, "John 23".
So to avoid the slightest chance of confusion, I have labelled this one with a cross to indicate Christianity and this one with an X for X-rated.
Clear? Absolutely, sir.
I foresee no problems.
MOANING BED SPRINGS SQUEAK MAN AND WOMAN: Oh Oh Oh! BOTH: Oh! HIGH-PITCHED YAPPING Get down, Hennimore! I trust all is well here, my lords.
I broke my glasses on the way back from my meeting.
What the? It's your sexual therapist on the phone, sir.
He wants to know if he can borrow the costume for when he does Mrs Therapist.
HENNIMO-O-O-ORE! Well, you seem to be coming along very well, Guy.
Thank you, Doctor.
I hope you'll be sticking to nothing stronger than tea from now on.
Oh, yes, Doctor.
I'd forgotten how nice it tastes.
And your social worker's here to see you again.
Great news, Guy.
We've traced your family.
- My daughter? - Yes.
Alice is 12 now.
So maybe once you're better and settled into that job, we could arrange a meeting.
Thank you so much.
I won't let you down.
It's great to have you on board, Guy.
Well, thank you for giving me this opportunity, Mr Jenkins.
Morning.
- Just that, please.
- 6.
99, please.
- Thank you.
- Cheers.
# Do you feel born out of time? # - Oh, thank you so much! - You've earned it, Guy.
- See you Monday.
- Will do.
# .
.
Ginger # It's not the same for you # Big day today.
My social worker's arranged for me to meet up with my daughter.
I haven't seen her for five years.
Oh! Well, good luck with that, Guy.
- I'm sure it will go well.
- Thanks.
Can I help you, sir? Excellent work, Ginger.
You've infiltrated my nemesis's lair.
Erdo I know you? Ah! Deep cover.
Perhaps a sip of this will remind you.
Oh, not while I'm working, thanks.
Oh, do you think that? Oh, no.
That's just pop.
I decanted it into this to looksophisticated.
Oh.
Well, that's all right, then.
That's it! That's it! Quick, sir, the till! I don't need you any more, Ginger II.
What's this? WOMAN: Great news, Guy.
We've traced your family.
- GUY: My daughter? - WOMAN: Yes.
Alice is 12 now.
I'm not sure, sir.
It might be important.
A clue! I'd better memorise it and then burn it.
WOMAN: So maybe once you're better and settled into that job, we could arrange a meeting.
You've burned it.
Oh! And I forgot to memorise it.
SIR DIGBY: In a world where it's important to know who your friends are, rather than who your daughter is, who will prise open the fist of international conspiracy and see if it's got a 2p in it? Find out next week in The Surprising Adventures Of Sir Digby Chicken Caesar.
# Welcome home # I don't think he's coming, darling.
# .
.
Welcome # Oh! Maybe SINGING: Dick Barton Theme Keep up, Ginger, you little turd.
- He's gaining on us, sir! - Come on! No.
That can't have been him.
Never mind.
launching the explosive harmlessly into space and recovering three billion pounds' worth of ill-gotten bullion, which Captain Todger has announced he'll be donating to charity.
I know.
I know.
Yeah.
I could've blown it all on Stella, but even my liver couldn't take that.
Can I ask, er I mean, it could, obviously.
I've got a mega liver.
As you were.
Can I ask which charities are to benefit? Donkeys.
I've given it some thought and I'd like it all to go to sick donkeys, please.
Three billion pounds? That's right.
Cos I was thinking, Amnesty International? Troublemakers, forget it.
Alzheimer's? No.
They're in a world of their own, they won't notice.
Cancer? No.
Three billion quid for cancer, it's like pissing in the wind.
The deaf? No, no.
Angry people - they wouldn't like it.
The blind? I don't really care.
Dolphins? No, they look smug.
Eton College? Uppingham School? No.
I don't think it's appropriate that public schools have charity status.
Junkies, gypsies, homos, that whole crowd - not keen.
So, no.
Donkeys.
I'd like it all to go to donkeys.
What? What have you all got against donkeys? They're lovely.
WIND HOWLS Where is he? He said he would be some time, sir.
That was yesterday.
No man could survive more than a few hours in this blizzard.
SIGHING: Oh, damn it all! Three of us left.
Only three of us.
What provisions have we? One last strand of pemmican, sir.
Damn it all to hell! I refuse to eat this confounded muck.
Then we have but one remaining option, sir.
No! It's unthinkable! No, no, not Wilson.
This.
What? No, that's even worse! But, sir, we will surely perish if we do not eat.
That, sir, is a Christmas pudding and today is barely halfway through August.
- What are you proposing? - We could say we lost track of time.
Lieutenant, there are some things that a true Englishman will never countenance.
That is a Christmas pudding and we are saving it for Christmas.
Is that understood? Well, then what about the Harvest Festival hamper? - That's only a few weeks away.
- Control yourself, man! Butlook at this prize marrow, sir.
Imagine the sweet taste of its flesh once cooked, perhaps with these butter beans.
- We could rustle up a hearty stew.
- We are Englishmen, not animals.
Wellhow about the corned beef? Or the cling peaches in syrup? If we treat these hampers with contempt, then we are no better than Norwegians.
Sir, we are starving to death.
And we are doing so with due deference to the English celebrational calendar.
Shackleton let his men eat all the pancake batter weeks before Shrove Tuesday.
I don't intend to brook any jealous intervention from you, Wilson.
Wilson! Is thatfoil in your beard? No.
It's snow.
And there's chocolate on your glove! You've finished the entire Advent calendar! - Good Lord! - It wasn't my idea.
Oates gave me a little chocolate Father Christmas and then we rather got carried away with the spirit of the thing.
How dare you?! Bowers had some, too! And some of the brandy butter.
Is this true, Bowers? I see.
Well, then is there anything either of you would care to add to your confessions? Well You tell him.
- No, you tell him.
It was your idea.
- What is it? Tell me this instant! MUMBLES Speak up, man! I said, we ate the carrot! What?! Not the carrot! No! No! No! But .
.
that was to be the nose for my snowman.
- Over there.
So, what are we having, chef? Lentil and feta salad and roasted squash.
Smashing.
And main course? That is the main course.
Right Problem? Well, it's just, er I don't eat vegetarian.
What do you mean? I'm a meat eater.
But, Mark, you know Wendy and I are veggie.
Yes, I know.
And when you two came round for dinner, we made you a mushroom risotto, and I was sort of expecting you to return the effort.
I'll have some meat, please.
Sorry.
I didn't know you felt so strongly about it.
It's an ethical thing.
I don't think humans should be treated like this.
Well, umwhat can I say? We don't really do meat in this house.
Oh, come on! You must have some meat somewhere around here.
What was that I saw wandering around earlier? The cat? That'll do.
I'll have that, with some rice.
No, that's the cat.
It looked quite lean and gamey.
But it's ours - it's a pet.
You mean you keep an animal in captivity for no reason? That's barbaric.
At least pigs are for sausages.
Ah, no.
You see, they're not.
They're actually highly intelligent creatures.
Oh, yeah, right(!) They're doing secretarial work on the farm.
Come on! They're sausage fodder.
Why else would anyone keep pigs? Well, toto Because Pig cheese? Pig wool? Well Pigs are expensive, pink and annoying, but they're also delicious, which is why we breed so many of them.
There might be a few polar bears left if more people wanted one for breakfast.
What? "Where are the pigs, Daddy?" "In the zoo.
More mushroom risotto, anyone?" Oh, not so caring now.
Face it - you want to hound a species to extinction.
Me? I just wanna eat some meat.
- Shit! - Exactly.
All right, then.
- Here, puss, puss, puss, puss, puss! - There's a hammer under the sink.
- Gotcha.
- And not a word about this to Wendy.
And pray, Miss Bennet, what do you call this quaint country dance? We call it the conga, Miss Bingley.
I am surprised you have not heard of it.
Do you hear that, Mr Darcy? Miss Bennet chides us for our ignorance of local customs.
I certainly did not mean to chide.
But I confess myself surprised by Mr Darcy's behaviour.
Miss Bennet, you astound me.
What could there be in the behaviour of poor Mr Darcy that provokes such hasty slander? Forgive my impertinence.
I merely wished to observe that Mr Darcy refuses to partake of the conga, yet gentlemen are scarce and there are plainly several young ladies left wholly out of the conga.
But what in heavens has this to do with Mr Darcy? MUTTERING: It's meant to go boy-girl, boy-girl.
- Mr Darcy? - It's meant to go boy-girl, boy-girl.
You are right, Miss Bennet.
Perhaps I am too hard.
It is only in defence of my rank that I feel bound to abstain.
A gentleman does not conga.
I would be loath to make a habit of contradicting you, sir, but my father is a gentleman and he congas with the best of them.
Perhaps it is not simply the conga, but all manner of dance that you consider beneath your station.
Indeed not, Miss Bennet.
But you must allow that the only dance that my position could possibly support is that of freestyle disco.
Know you not, Miss Bennet, that Mr Darcy has been freestyle disco champion of all Derbyshire these last dozen years? - I confess I did not know.
- In faith, what would appear to be the summation of all that you do not know, Miss Bennet, would make for quite Oh, Caroline! Will you please shut the fuck up?! Perhaps, Mr Darcy, you would be good enough to favour us with a brief exhibition of your freestyle disco prowess.
It has been forced upon me from the start.
I assure you, it gives me no pleasure.
HARPSICHORD PLAYS: Baby, One More Time Thank you, Sue.
Well, for today's Weatherview, I'm up on the roof of Broadcasting House, and it's really quite something in the sunshine - quite a view.
Well, as you can see, it's a glorious morning here in London and it's set to stay that way, with highs of 24 degrees, so make sure you wear plenty of sun cream out there.
And you'll be glad to hear that in the south-east this weather will be with us for the rest of the week, which is good news for Wimbledon, but bad news for hay fever sufferers, as the pollen count Why didn't you stop him? the pollen count will get pretty high.
And that's the weather for now.
Back to you in the studio, Sue.
Damn it! This isn't booze! Are you an Olympic athlete who craves a proper drink at the end of a race? You know, like in the good old days? Then you need Glucozade Port the world's first alcoholic isotonic drink.
Wow! I'm fully recovered and smashed.
Look at these other athletes with their water! They're just fully recovered.
The fools.
Dahh! Glucozade Port rehydrates your body, then dehydrates it again at the same time.
It doesn't help athletes perform better, but it makes them THINK they're performing better.
No, no, honestly, I run much better when I'm pissed.
Oh! You're not Mr and Mrs Mountjoy, are you? Yes.
No, Ginger, she'll never buy that.
Mr and Mrs Mountjoy are my servants and they arranged this encounter.
- Meeting.
- Meeting, good one.
And what was it you wanted? Funds.
I'm organising an expedition to the pole.
I'm calling security.
Which pole - undecided.
Both poles have their charms.
She's not going for it, sir.
Quick, get the copper out of the walls! SINGING: Dick Barton Theme SIR DIGBY: In a society whose toothy fake smile is ravaged by the plaque of death and the vodka burp of subprime mortgages, who will floss into the darkest cavities of our despair and see if there are any gold fillings you could swap for a can of peppermint-flavoured antifreeze? Yes, it's the Surprising Adventures of me, Sir Digby Chicken Caesar.
SINGING PETERS OUT Oh Seeing as it was a bank, sir, we could have just swiped some money.
Why didn't you say so before, you idiot? TYRES SCREECH Well, I think we've really cracked the special guest problem.
- Bruno Brookes said yes? - Better.
- Bruno Brookes said no? - Second prize, TWO weeks in Blackpool.
What? Never mind.
But who's the highest profile special guest you can think of? Brendan Foster.
- Is he? - Yeah, Brendan Foster.
He'd be amazing.
Yeah, well, we haven't got Brendan Foster.
Oh! Now, think of someone even more famous than Brendan Foster.
But Ron Pickering's dead.
It's nothing to do with athletics.
- Athletics? I thought they were authors.
- What? Are they not authors? No.
Butlook, anyway, think of the most famous person in the country.
Think royal.
Oh, my God! Prince Charles! - Better.
- Oh, er - Prince Charles.
- No, better.
Prince Charles! No.
Er Princess Diana? No.
Stupid.
Oh, God, Prince Charles! The Queen! We've got the bloody Queen.
I thought she was dead.
Faites vos jeux, messieurs, dames.
I'm going in.
Roger.
Standing by.
Monsieur is very generous.
There's a hell of a lot of government money riding on this, Suave.
But why me? Because you're the best damn guesser of the weight of a fruit cake in the service.
Two pounds, six ounces? Je suis desole, monsieur, mais non.
Two poundsseven ounces.
Monsieur wins again.
Nouveau gateau, s'il vous plait.
This is your target.
And, Suave be careful.
He is very, very good at guessing how much a fruit cake weighs.
So am I.
I know.
But he is as well.
We'll see about that.
No, he really is.
That's what they say about me.
Yes, I know, but you both It's going to be close, that's the point.
I'm nervous now.
- Ah! A new opponent.
- Yes.
I'm quite prepared to take you on.
Or should I say, CAKE you on? MUTTERING: Guys, you've gotta do better than that.
- Oh, sorry(!) - Jimmy Carr was never like this.
Three pounds and seven ounces.
Three pounds and four ounces.
Four pounds exactly.
Five pounds and one ounce.
Two pounds and nine ounces.
That's quite a small cake.
Too small for your blood, Mr Suave? MUTTERING: You're worse than his guys.
He's on to us.
On the contrary.
I think I'd like to go all in.
Three ounces.
Four ounces.
Monsieur wins.
Please, monsieur, I'm a sportsman.
Let me give you the chance to win your money back.
One game, no limits, double or nothing.
Weight of a fruit cake? No.
How many coins in the jar? Bran tub? No, no.
Whack the rat.
Do you mean wanking? Oh, no, he's gone rogue.
No.
I meant - You've been lucky tonight.
- Yeah.
Maybe I'll get luckier still.
Do you mean when you're cupping MY fishy ball? I'm not saying that! - That was good.
- Anne Robinson would have said it.
Yeah.
And, Suave, good luck.
I won't need luck.
You're going to a casino.
Oh, God, yes! That's right.
Yeah, blimey! Fingers crossed.
Will you kiss my rat whacker for luck? I thought you'd never ask.
Urgh! You win this time, Mr Suave.
Now I must retire for the night.
Yes, I must say BOTH: I'm whacked.
Lazy, double-crossing shits! You made us look like dicks in there.
THUMP! I suppose you're doing this for kicks.
That's exactly the kind of shit we're talking about.
BOTH: That was good! THUD! .
.
with the most beautiful woman in the world - my wife.
APPLAUSE And now, ladies and gentlemen, please show your appreciation for the best man.
Um, "the most beautiful woman in the world"? I don't think so, mate.
I mean, honestly GROANING No, I'm not being nasty.
It's not nasty to say someone isn't the most beautiful woman in the world.
And she looks, you know, fine, good, very presentable, better than ever.
Just not better than everyone.
GROANING What?! Sorry, Jane, you've not been thinking you're the most beautiful woman in the world, have you? Why would you think that? BOOING Wh? Have you all gone mad? She is not the most beautiful woman in the world! She's top halfprobably.
But that's largely because of her relative youth.
GROANING Look, that's not rude! There's no-one in this room who's anywhere near that attractive.
I mean, one of the bridesmaids is pretty tasty, but not, you know, world class.
MAN: You're not so hot yourself! I never said I was! He said that SHE was the most beautiful woman in the world, and I just wouldn't want their life together to kick off with a lie.
To me, she's the most beautiful woman in the world, so just get on with it.
OK, to you, right.
But you know she's not really, deep down.
You're not mad.
You just fancy her more than she is objectively attractive.
Which is good! That's exactly who should be getting married - two people who are a little bit deluded in each other's favour.
That's what love is, isn't it? SHOUTING Look If the most beautiful woman in the world was getting married, that would be big news - the papers would be here.
There'd have been champagne, not Prosecco.
Oh, my God! II like Prosecco! I'm not complaining! Look, why is it suddenly rude for me to say that he's average-looking, she scrubs up pretty well, but Audrey Hepburn she ain't, and there have been weddings more expensive than this? We all know these things.
They shouldn't be a cause for despair.
I was gonna tell an anecdote about when he had to run naked through the lobby of a hotel, but that might provoke suicides from those of you who were apparently under the impression that this was Olympus itself and we were witnessing the union of the gods.
BARRACKING Yeah, all right, all right.
Have a nice evening.
Was I all right? Really good, mate.
Really good.
- We'll take, then.
- Ready there? Andaction! PIANO PLAYS SCALES Sothe Queen why did she agree to do this? Pissed off they never asked her on Extras.
Right.
When they said the piano tuner was blind, I didn't realise they meant the Queen.
She's standing in the wrong place again.
Sorry She's not very good, is she? Oh, thank God you said it.
I thought I was the only one.
- No, she's shit, isn't she? - Yeah.
I thought she had TV experience.
Well, she's on at Christmas before Shrek.
Cut.
I don't think we can use any of this.
I mean, not even on the DVD.
We've got to use it! It's the Queen! - We've got the Queen! - Yeah, but she's terrible.
I mean, was that quite funny thing that Prince Philip did, but then the Queen kind of ruined it by just staring down the lens.
Wellwe could pixel her out.
I think that's treason.
Look, screw you, if that's your attitude! We cannot work with her! She is terrible.
What did you see her in that made you think she was good? The Queen.
I saw her in The Queen.
That was Helen Mirren! We are truly blessed today, Hennimore, for our schism with Rome may finally be at an end.
I've been hoping for that, sir.
A rare cine film of Pope John XXIII proposing reconciliation has recently been unearthed.
And because of my uncanny physical resemblance to the Holy Father several senior Anglican bishops are coming here to my office to watch it at four.
And I don't need to tell you what the re-catholicisation of England could mean to all of us here at Ampleforth Rosary Supplies.
Spectacles, testicles, sir.
I shall be in a meeting when they arrive so it's up to you to settle them down and put on the film.
You can rely on me, sir.
On an unrelated note, my wife and I have recently completed our 23rd explicit home movie for our sexual therapist, John, and the courier should be here at about five to four to pick it up, - so make sure he gets it.
- Will do, sir.
It hasn't escaped my notice that these identical canisters of film are labelled, for perfectly viable reasons of their own, "John 23".
So to avoid the slightest chance of confusion, I have labelled this one with a cross to indicate Christianity and this one with an X for X-rated.
Clear? Absolutely, sir.
I foresee no problems.
MOANING BED SPRINGS SQUEAK MAN AND WOMAN: Oh Oh Oh! BOTH: Oh! HIGH-PITCHED YAPPING Get down, Hennimore! I trust all is well here, my lords.
I broke my glasses on the way back from my meeting.
What the? It's your sexual therapist on the phone, sir.
He wants to know if he can borrow the costume for when he does Mrs Therapist.
HENNIMO-O-O-ORE! Well, you seem to be coming along very well, Guy.
Thank you, Doctor.
I hope you'll be sticking to nothing stronger than tea from now on.
Oh, yes, Doctor.
I'd forgotten how nice it tastes.
And your social worker's here to see you again.
Great news, Guy.
We've traced your family.
- My daughter? - Yes.
Alice is 12 now.
So maybe once you're better and settled into that job, we could arrange a meeting.
Thank you so much.
I won't let you down.
It's great to have you on board, Guy.
Well, thank you for giving me this opportunity, Mr Jenkins.
Morning.
- Just that, please.
- 6.
99, please.
- Thank you.
- Cheers.
# Do you feel born out of time? # - Oh, thank you so much! - You've earned it, Guy.
- See you Monday.
- Will do.
# .
.
Ginger # It's not the same for you # Big day today.
My social worker's arranged for me to meet up with my daughter.
I haven't seen her for five years.
Oh! Well, good luck with that, Guy.
- I'm sure it will go well.
- Thanks.
Can I help you, sir? Excellent work, Ginger.
You've infiltrated my nemesis's lair.
Erdo I know you? Ah! Deep cover.
Perhaps a sip of this will remind you.
Oh, not while I'm working, thanks.
Oh, do you think that? Oh, no.
That's just pop.
I decanted it into this to looksophisticated.
Oh.
Well, that's all right, then.
That's it! That's it! Quick, sir, the till! I don't need you any more, Ginger II.
What's this? WOMAN: Great news, Guy.
We've traced your family.
- GUY: My daughter? - WOMAN: Yes.
Alice is 12 now.
I'm not sure, sir.
It might be important.
A clue! I'd better memorise it and then burn it.
WOMAN: So maybe once you're better and settled into that job, we could arrange a meeting.
You've burned it.
Oh! And I forgot to memorise it.
SIR DIGBY: In a world where it's important to know who your friends are, rather than who your daughter is, who will prise open the fist of international conspiracy and see if it's got a 2p in it? Find out next week in The Surprising Adventures Of Sir Digby Chicken Caesar.
# Welcome home # I don't think he's coming, darling.
# .
.
Welcome # Oh! Maybe SINGING: Dick Barton Theme Keep up, Ginger, you little turd.
- He's gaining on us, sir! - Come on! No.
That can't have been him.
Never mind.
launching the explosive harmlessly into space and recovering three billion pounds' worth of ill-gotten bullion, which Captain Todger has announced he'll be donating to charity.
I know.
I know.
Yeah.
I could've blown it all on Stella, but even my liver couldn't take that.
Can I ask, er I mean, it could, obviously.
I've got a mega liver.
As you were.
Can I ask which charities are to benefit? Donkeys.
I've given it some thought and I'd like it all to go to sick donkeys, please.
Three billion pounds? That's right.
Cos I was thinking, Amnesty International? Troublemakers, forget it.
Alzheimer's? No.
They're in a world of their own, they won't notice.
Cancer? No.
Three billion quid for cancer, it's like pissing in the wind.
The deaf? No, no.
Angry people - they wouldn't like it.
The blind? I don't really care.
Dolphins? No, they look smug.
Eton College? Uppingham School? No.
I don't think it's appropriate that public schools have charity status.
Junkies, gypsies, homos, that whole crowd - not keen.
So, no.
Donkeys.
I'd like it all to go to donkeys.
What? What have you all got against donkeys? They're lovely.
WIND HOWLS Where is he? He said he would be some time, sir.
That was yesterday.
No man could survive more than a few hours in this blizzard.
SIGHING: Oh, damn it all! Three of us left.
Only three of us.
What provisions have we? One last strand of pemmican, sir.
Damn it all to hell! I refuse to eat this confounded muck.
Then we have but one remaining option, sir.
No! It's unthinkable! No, no, not Wilson.
This.
What? No, that's even worse! But, sir, we will surely perish if we do not eat.
That, sir, is a Christmas pudding and today is barely halfway through August.
- What are you proposing? - We could say we lost track of time.
Lieutenant, there are some things that a true Englishman will never countenance.
That is a Christmas pudding and we are saving it for Christmas.
Is that understood? Well, then what about the Harvest Festival hamper? - That's only a few weeks away.
- Control yourself, man! Butlook at this prize marrow, sir.
Imagine the sweet taste of its flesh once cooked, perhaps with these butter beans.
- We could rustle up a hearty stew.
- We are Englishmen, not animals.
Wellhow about the corned beef? Or the cling peaches in syrup? If we treat these hampers with contempt, then we are no better than Norwegians.
Sir, we are starving to death.
And we are doing so with due deference to the English celebrational calendar.
Shackleton let his men eat all the pancake batter weeks before Shrove Tuesday.
I don't intend to brook any jealous intervention from you, Wilson.
Wilson! Is thatfoil in your beard? No.
It's snow.
And there's chocolate on your glove! You've finished the entire Advent calendar! - Good Lord! - It wasn't my idea.
Oates gave me a little chocolate Father Christmas and then we rather got carried away with the spirit of the thing.
How dare you?! Bowers had some, too! And some of the brandy butter.
Is this true, Bowers? I see.
Well, then is there anything either of you would care to add to your confessions? Well You tell him.
- No, you tell him.
It was your idea.
- What is it? Tell me this instant! MUMBLES Speak up, man! I said, we ate the carrot! What?! Not the carrot! No! No! No! But .
.
that was to be the nose for my snowman.