That Mitchell and Webb Look (2006) s04e06 Episode Script
Episode 6
SHOUTING LOUDLY: Hello there! I'm Donnie Cosey! and I'm here for A Prayer And A Pint which, this week, comes from deep beneath the earth at the Large Hadron Collider at CERN.
SILENCE STILL SHOUTING: Oh, that's much quieter! NORMAL VOICE: And I'm joined here in the canteen at CERN by Doctor of Physics, Mr Rowland Kane.
Will you have a pint? I would love a pint.
Cheers.
And Rowland and the other boffins here at the Large Hadron Collider are up to something rather exciting, because they're trying to blow up the universe, which, I have to say, Rowland, to a layman like me, sounds like a terrible idea.
So what's all that about? That's not what we're trying to do.
Right, so what went wrong? No, Donnie, we're trying to recreate the conditions that existed the tiniest, tiniest fraction of a second after the Big Bang.
So ng.
What? BANNNNNGGG And actually, it is making a bit of a "nng" noise.
Well, that may be why.
And I must say, Rowland, if that's a large hadron collider, I don't much fancy standing next to an enormous one.
And a lot of the work here is, of course, still carried out by hand.
But now it's time for a hymn.
And this week, it comes with an apology to our regular correspondents, Phil and Meg McQueen of Sulky Abbott, which is, of course, in Sussex, and not, as I previously read out, Bumsex.
Sorry about that.
Red faces all round.
And to make up for it, here's All I Want To Do, All I Want To Do, All I Want To Do is Praise Him.
And do join us next week when A Prayer And A Pint is coming from the Mir space station in Colliers Wood.
Cheers.
ORGAN INTRODUCTION # All I want to do # All I want to do # All I want to do is praise Him # All I want to do # All I want to do # All I want to do is praise Him # What do I want to do? # What do I want to do? # What do I want to do? Praise Him.
# Who do I want to praise? # Who do I want to praise? # Who do I want to praise? God.
# What's so scary is they're among us now.
Any one of us could be one of them - the machines.
I ain't no fracking machine.
Frack those fracking machines.
Isn't that right, Colin? Does not compute! Does not compute! You're right there, Colin.
Do you want gravy with that, love? Negative.
Oil.
Must eat oil.
Oil, Colin? Colin loves his oil.
Oil.
Let's hear it for the dreamers the ones who think anything is possible.
This is for the thrill seekers the excitement lovers who think you can never have too much fun.
The ones who live for today And who think big, not small.
Welcome to the lottery way of thinking.
Think lottery.
the new tabby cat operating system.
Tidy.
Slashing edge.
So we're looking at, what, at £1,800 with all the bells and wizards? Power Carpet thrown in.
Power Carpet, naturally.
Any up grabs it might need are available from the Install Wow download.
There's a hub for lineless jack-in, obviously.
Eight times as thick as you'd get at home.
Octofat, nice.
Thank you, I'll take it.
Where do I pay? No, no, I'm the customer.
What? I'm the customer, you're the shop assistant.
No, I'm definitely the customer.
You've got the shirt.
I'm just brand loyal.
I don't work here.
Look, I'm sure we said I was the customer.
No, I'm the customer because I'm standing on the customer side of the shopping table.
Is this still the shop sketch? Yes, we agreed to make it modern.
We shouldn't have done that.
We can't stay in the past - shops have changed.
Not in sketches.
I told you - you need a bell and a wooden counter and a man wearing brown overalls who says, "Hello, sir, "welcome to the computer shop.
How can I help you today?" Where do you go shopping? The last time anyone did that, this would have been the size of a bus.
We could make the computer bigger.
No, this is what these shops are like now.
It's just confusing.
I mean, we could be anywhere.
Are we in heaven? We'd have harps.
And, to be strictly realistic, you wouldn't even be in a shop.
You can pick one of those up for half the price online.
Good call.
Start again? It's probably for the best.
Perfect, 16-inch slim top, Tabby Cat OS, four Tetra Bix of Wintelligence.
Just go to checkout.
BELL PINGS Hello, sir.
Welcome to the internet shop.
How can I help you? I'd like to buy a computer, please.
SHE WAILS Thank you.
So, Felicity, how did it go? Well, Ian, I went in there, put my heart and soul into it, really gave it my heart and soul and, at the end of the day, speaking from my heart and soul, that's really all I could have done.
Is it, though? What? Putting your heart and soul into it, is that really all you could have done? What about practising? Or learning the words? Or trying to stay in tune? Aren't all those things quite important? Yeah, but what I'm saying is, Ian, I went in there today, put my heart and soul on the line, really gave it my heart and soul.
And, at the end of the day, coming right from my heart and soul now, there's really nothing else I could have done.
Yeah, but technically there is, though.
What? Well, you could have got up early and rehearsed, you could have dressed like a proper singer instead of getting trussed up in leather like some Tory MP two seconds before a fatal wanking accident, you could have picked a funky, modern tune instead of that sort of depressing Mariah Carey thing that sounded like something a taxi driver would listen to whilst burning photo albums in a lay-by, or you could have worked on your vocal technique, which was a bit hoarse and shouty.
I don't mean to be rude but you put me in mind of a dog trying to bark the alphabet.
Is any of this helping? But I put my heart and soul into a that performance.
Yeah, but in the real world, that's not really good enough, which, if you think about it, Felicity, is probably why you are still living with your gran and working in that Biro factory.
In real life, as opposed to the happy-clappy rainbow fantasy world that you see fit to fly through on your winged unicorn of delusion, sincerity is no excuse for failure.
Pilots don't say, "Sorry I killed 300 people and sheared the roof off that church.
"I was giving it too much heart and soul.
" My kids are watching this.
Kids? Yeah, brilliant, because of course, having children is sort of like a way of achieving something without needing any talent, which, if you think about it, is a metaphor for your whole life.
I hate you.
You're a horrible presenter.
Actually, Felicity, I'm not a presenter at all.
I just come here on my lunch break and do this for fun.
Tissue? They reckon the machines have infiltrated this ship now.
What, this ship? The flagship? Fracking machines.
Affirmative.
You off your food, Colin? Do you want something else instead? Electric.
Must eat electric.
You know, one of them killed Gavin, trying to get to the security level.
Fracking machines.
Franking toasters.
Thanks, Colin.
I think it might be Bob.
What other supermarkets hide in sausages, we hide everywhere.
Just look at these giveaway-style bargains.
Taste-watch Vegeta-Bitz in breadcrumbs, only 18p.
Heat-style magazine in breadcrumbs, only 95p.
Frozen party pack of deep-fried ranch-style dinosaur flavour fun shapes in breadcrumbs, 9p.
That's the Didldidi difference.
Didldidi - wake up and smell the shopping.
Bloody hell! Typical! Have you read this? Yes, and I agree with you.
Oh, right.
Hang on, no you haven't.
OK, what? Scientists say that future generations have a very real possibility of living indefinitely.
Oh, good.
Don't be an idiot.
Did you hear me? Future generations, not us.
Right.
Don't you know what that means? It means we're going to be the unluckiest generation ever.
Why? Because we're going to be the last ones to die, you dick! Well We're going to be, like, dying and being looked after and leaving all our money to a bloody bunch of immortal super-beings.
David, are you jealous? What? Are you jealous of your future unborn children? Do you want your unborn children to die? I mean, not actually see them die, but you'd want to know that one day they will? You'd look into the eyes of your child, all full of hope and wonder, and console yourself with the thought that they, too, will age and fail.
Can you just drop the whole sanctimonious fatherhood thing? What? "Oh, David, now I've got a baby I feel all different about everything.
" "Oh, David, just you wait, David, till you've got a baby, then you'll feel the same.
"You won't want to kill or hate any more.
" Look "Can we not do the baby death sketch? It just makes me a bit squeamish now I've got a baby.
" You vetoed all those back pain sketches.
There is nothing funny about back pain.
Don't make me out to be the weird one just because I don't like jokes about children dying.
I'm not saying all the jokes have to be about children dying.
OK.
I just think it's mean-spirited to resent your descendants' potential immortality, which, incidentally, isn't going to happen.
Oh, hark at Ben Goldacre with his analysis of the science articles.
I've seen you take vitamin C.
I just think you should calm down about it.
They'd better sort their pensions out, I can tell you.
They will be screwed on their pensions, smug little immortal bastards.
That cheers you up, doesn't it? Yeah.
Smug little bastards.
LOUD JEERING It's fine - I'll carry it! Apparently some of them don't even know that they're robots, if you can believe it.
Does not compute.
You're right there.
But their programming can kick in at any time.
Must remember not lose this top-level-security bio-code.
With this, they reckon they could shore up our defences against their next attack.
At least it should be able to scramble their codes for a few hours.
Fracking krunts.
That could buy us enough time to get to Moonbase Gemma.
Yeah.
Colin, what you doing, mate? Must destroy humans.
What? Honestly, Colin.
I'll get you a pudding.
Coals, please.
Introducing KatKat, the delicious new chocolate snack for cats.
Yes, for you, my feline friend.
Available in three great flavours - chocolate mouse and mouse.
Yes, cats love it.
Although that was a cat's paw on a stick.
And it's good for them, too.
I'm sorry, Mrs Dawson, there was nothing we could do.
Did he maybe eat too much KatKat? No.
If it helps at all, the KatKat charitable foundation are offering free feline burial this month.
That would be kind.
I'm too grief-stricken to dig.
Excellent.
New from the KatKat Foundation, it's KidKat, the cat snack for kids.
Are you having trouble getting your kids to eat enough cat? Oh, come on, love, eat up your boiled cat.
It's good for you.
Don't like it.
How about a KidKat? Wow, yes, please! Kids love it! Though that was a kid's hand on a stick.
KidKat, the cat you can eat between cats.
I'm so sorry, Mrs Lawson, there was nothing I could do.
I don't know where I went wrong.
We gave him all the cat the Government recommended and more.
Chris? Er, quick word? Yes? Bit of a weird one.
Erm, have you been encouraging parents to feed their children cats? Yes, five portions of cat or kitten a day.
Why? Well, cats.
I'm more of a dog person.
Fine.
You're watching the British Emergency Broadcasting System.
It's the beginning of the Second Age.
Every ending is a beginning.
And now it's time for the return of The Quiz Broadcast.
UP-BEAT THEME MUSIC Hello, good evening, and come back indoors! Regular viewers will remember that in our last broadcast, they got in and ate Sheila.
So, round one - what happened next? They all died.
That's right, Peter, they all just died.
We didn't kill them - there were thousands of them.
They were so angry.
And then they died.
They died.
They all just died.
Why did they all die? We don't know.
That was question two.
But they all died.
They used to be us.
They used to be us.
And they all died.
Round two is our head-to-head round! But there's only me left.
Yes, but we've still got Sheila's head! Sheila was kind.
I'm afraid you've dropped Sheila's head, Peter, so the winner of this week's head-to-head is Sheila! APPLAUSE Well done, Sheila.
I'm happy for Sheila.
I'm happy for Sheila.
Well, I'm afraid that's it for this week's Quiz Broadcast, as there's no-one else.
There's no-one else.
People will come.
Let's stand together.
Are you there? Yes.
Oh, God! What? They're remaking that Ronnie Corbett sitcom, Sorry.
What's wrong with that? It was quite funny.
"Language, Timothy!" Uh-huh.
And what else was funny about it? He was still living with his mother.
"Language, Timothy!" It was funny.
I mean, are they so bereft of ideas they have to remake old sitcoms? It's not a remake, it's more of a re-imagining.
Probably.
I feel sorry for the poor idiot they've got to carry that one.
That's a poisoned chalice.
Really? The knives'll be out.
Look at Clunes.
Yeah, well, Reggie Perrin was more of an acquired taste.
Everyone loved Sorry.
Who will they have got to do that? I mean, Bradley Walsh? Les Dennis? Jedward? I think they might be looking a little bit more high end, someone who can give it a bit of gravitas but also bring the funny.
Oh, David.
You didn't.
It's a smart move! We can't be cutting-edge forever.
Peep Show will end.
Face it, we're getting older.
We need to go mainstream.
They're paying you a lot of money, aren't they? I want to spread my wings.
I want to do something popular that doesn't involve you.
Jam and Jerusalem's popular.
It's been axed, you insensitive bastard.
Look, we can't carry on working as a duo forever.
This could be my Porridge.
No, this could be your Sorry.
Oh, fuck off.
"Language, Timothy!" So we're all agreed that that's the best way to do it? Absolutely.
It's so simple.
No messing around with poison-tipped umbrellas or snipers.
We just get a chauffeur drunk Slightly drunk.
.
.
and assume that he'll crash the car.
Yeah.
As long as we pay for a bunch of motorcycling photographers to harass him, I'm sure that'll happen.
And the good news is that that only involves swearing another fifteen or so people to perpetual silence.
Yes.
Plus, people always die in car crashes, don't they? Yes, always.
And, er, people who drive over the limit always crash.
What we're organising here, my friends, is a watertight hit.
My only worry is that it'll look so much like a murder that people will suspect.
Well, that is the risk we run by doing it this way - it will be totally obvious that it's an assassination.
But remember what the Duke of Edinburgh said when he came in here to MI6 to give us our orders - "I don't mind carrying the lifelong suspicion of murder on my shoulders, "as long as you kill her in such a way that absolutely nothing can go wrong.
" Well, induced tipsy car crash it'll have to be, then.
It simply can't fail.
Unless she wears a seat belt.
No.
She won't.
She's unprovably pregnant, remember.
Women recently impregnated by the only man they've ever loved are notoriously slapdash about their personal safety.
So, Dark, you're our best troubleshooter.
Is there anything that we've missed? I've just got one little niggle.
Why are we doing this? Well, because Prince Philip told us to.
It's well known that the nation's security services are still pretty much at the beck and call of the Royal Family.
This is top priority.
The IRA can do whatever they like this weekend, let me tell you.
And why's he doing it? Well, because she's so popular.
She's beautiful, and everyone loves her.
We need to kill her now so that people will go off her.
Of course.
I mean, just think about it - if she's left alive to age as gracefully as one can while bringing up the bastard grandchild of a delusional Egyptian businessman, the public's just going to love her more and more.
You're quite right.
As her appearance wrinkles and sags and she occasionally make a vacuous remark about something complicated, people's hatred for the rest of the Royal Family will only intensify.
Whereas if she's dead, she'll be forgotten in a week.
Yes, of course.
You've made me feel very naive.
PHONE RINGS Hello? Oh! Life imitating art, I suppose.
Right.
Well, thank you.
Well, you can stand down, everyone.
That all just happened by accident.
Well, don't tell Prince Philip.
We'll still get our fee.
Watson, come in here this instant! Ah! Good morning, Dr Watson.
Good morning.
And how is he today? Oh, pretty good.
He's already cracked the case of keeping the breakfast down and now he's on to the mystery of the disappearing slipper.
Where's my slipper? Is it on your foot? Yes! It's very good of you, you know, to come in every day.
Well, he has the most brilliantly incisive mind of his generation.
Where's my slipper? Perhaps you would take him in an apple.
Indeed.
Morning, Holmes.
Ah, Mrs Hudson! Have you seen Watson? He's just here.
Morning, Holmes.
Ah, Watson.
I can see from the slight traces of mud on your right trouser leg and the fact that you're holding a bunch of geraniums that you're a retired cavalry officer who's just fallen in love with a Mexican.
Extraordinary, Holmes.
Your powers remain undiminished.
Can I have my mashed apple? Of course.
CRASH! Delicious.
Ah! Mrs Hudson! Everything all right? Yes, just a slight accident with the mashed apple.
Yuk! I think Holmes was afraid it was a trap laid for him by his nemesis, Professor Moriarty.
Yes, please.
Well, Holmes, I've brought your copy of The Strand magazine.
Same headline as always.
Hold it still.
So, erm, how about a bit of a tune on the old Stradivarius? Thank you.
TRIES TO BLOW INTO IT Enchanting, Holmes.
You can't go in there! Only one visitor at a time.
It's vital that I speak to Mr Holmes.
Why, Lestrade! It must be ten years! Dr Watson.
Mr Holmes.
Ah, Mrs Hudson! No time for tea, Mr Holmes.
There's a problem at the Treasury, and the Prime Minister himself has asked me to consult you.
Now, I know it's been quite a while, but as Dr Watson always says, you've forgotten more about detective work than he and I will ever know.
Why have my legs gone warm? Perhaps this is a bad time.
A case, you say? Er Go on, Inspector.
Yes, right.
Er, well, Mr Holmes, some bullion has disappeared from the vaults beneath the Bank of England.
An inside job, we reckon.
This calls for a disguise.
I'm a Chinaman! Where's Holmes gone? Er, yes, where is Mr Holmes? Here! Oh, damn.
Bravo, Mr Holmes.
I think you've cracked it.
Have I? Of course he did.
Just like always.
Yes, indeed, Mr Holmes.
Er, well, I'd better be getting back to the Yard and tell everyone that once again, Sherlock Holmes has saved the day.
Hooray! CHINA SMASHES HE MOUTHS Well! Well, Holmes, another successful case for me to write up.
Isn't that right? I know, John.
I do know.
I can't get the fog to clear.
NURSE! Oh, dear.
Looks like a two-pipe problem.
Let's get you cleaned up.
SILENCE STILL SHOUTING: Oh, that's much quieter! NORMAL VOICE: And I'm joined here in the canteen at CERN by Doctor of Physics, Mr Rowland Kane.
Will you have a pint? I would love a pint.
Cheers.
And Rowland and the other boffins here at the Large Hadron Collider are up to something rather exciting, because they're trying to blow up the universe, which, I have to say, Rowland, to a layman like me, sounds like a terrible idea.
So what's all that about? That's not what we're trying to do.
Right, so what went wrong? No, Donnie, we're trying to recreate the conditions that existed the tiniest, tiniest fraction of a second after the Big Bang.
So ng.
What? BANNNNNGGG And actually, it is making a bit of a "nng" noise.
Well, that may be why.
And I must say, Rowland, if that's a large hadron collider, I don't much fancy standing next to an enormous one.
And a lot of the work here is, of course, still carried out by hand.
But now it's time for a hymn.
And this week, it comes with an apology to our regular correspondents, Phil and Meg McQueen of Sulky Abbott, which is, of course, in Sussex, and not, as I previously read out, Bumsex.
Sorry about that.
Red faces all round.
And to make up for it, here's All I Want To Do, All I Want To Do, All I Want To Do is Praise Him.
And do join us next week when A Prayer And A Pint is coming from the Mir space station in Colliers Wood.
Cheers.
ORGAN INTRODUCTION # All I want to do # All I want to do # All I want to do is praise Him # All I want to do # All I want to do # All I want to do is praise Him # What do I want to do? # What do I want to do? # What do I want to do? Praise Him.
# Who do I want to praise? # Who do I want to praise? # Who do I want to praise? God.
# What's so scary is they're among us now.
Any one of us could be one of them - the machines.
I ain't no fracking machine.
Frack those fracking machines.
Isn't that right, Colin? Does not compute! Does not compute! You're right there, Colin.
Do you want gravy with that, love? Negative.
Oil.
Must eat oil.
Oil, Colin? Colin loves his oil.
Oil.
Let's hear it for the dreamers the ones who think anything is possible.
This is for the thrill seekers the excitement lovers who think you can never have too much fun.
The ones who live for today And who think big, not small.
Welcome to the lottery way of thinking.
Think lottery.
the new tabby cat operating system.
Tidy.
Slashing edge.
So we're looking at, what, at £1,800 with all the bells and wizards? Power Carpet thrown in.
Power Carpet, naturally.
Any up grabs it might need are available from the Install Wow download.
There's a hub for lineless jack-in, obviously.
Eight times as thick as you'd get at home.
Octofat, nice.
Thank you, I'll take it.
Where do I pay? No, no, I'm the customer.
What? I'm the customer, you're the shop assistant.
No, I'm definitely the customer.
You've got the shirt.
I'm just brand loyal.
I don't work here.
Look, I'm sure we said I was the customer.
No, I'm the customer because I'm standing on the customer side of the shopping table.
Is this still the shop sketch? Yes, we agreed to make it modern.
We shouldn't have done that.
We can't stay in the past - shops have changed.
Not in sketches.
I told you - you need a bell and a wooden counter and a man wearing brown overalls who says, "Hello, sir, "welcome to the computer shop.
How can I help you today?" Where do you go shopping? The last time anyone did that, this would have been the size of a bus.
We could make the computer bigger.
No, this is what these shops are like now.
It's just confusing.
I mean, we could be anywhere.
Are we in heaven? We'd have harps.
And, to be strictly realistic, you wouldn't even be in a shop.
You can pick one of those up for half the price online.
Good call.
Start again? It's probably for the best.
Perfect, 16-inch slim top, Tabby Cat OS, four Tetra Bix of Wintelligence.
Just go to checkout.
BELL PINGS Hello, sir.
Welcome to the internet shop.
How can I help you? I'd like to buy a computer, please.
SHE WAILS Thank you.
So, Felicity, how did it go? Well, Ian, I went in there, put my heart and soul into it, really gave it my heart and soul and, at the end of the day, speaking from my heart and soul, that's really all I could have done.
Is it, though? What? Putting your heart and soul into it, is that really all you could have done? What about practising? Or learning the words? Or trying to stay in tune? Aren't all those things quite important? Yeah, but what I'm saying is, Ian, I went in there today, put my heart and soul on the line, really gave it my heart and soul.
And, at the end of the day, coming right from my heart and soul now, there's really nothing else I could have done.
Yeah, but technically there is, though.
What? Well, you could have got up early and rehearsed, you could have dressed like a proper singer instead of getting trussed up in leather like some Tory MP two seconds before a fatal wanking accident, you could have picked a funky, modern tune instead of that sort of depressing Mariah Carey thing that sounded like something a taxi driver would listen to whilst burning photo albums in a lay-by, or you could have worked on your vocal technique, which was a bit hoarse and shouty.
I don't mean to be rude but you put me in mind of a dog trying to bark the alphabet.
Is any of this helping? But I put my heart and soul into a that performance.
Yeah, but in the real world, that's not really good enough, which, if you think about it, Felicity, is probably why you are still living with your gran and working in that Biro factory.
In real life, as opposed to the happy-clappy rainbow fantasy world that you see fit to fly through on your winged unicorn of delusion, sincerity is no excuse for failure.
Pilots don't say, "Sorry I killed 300 people and sheared the roof off that church.
"I was giving it too much heart and soul.
" My kids are watching this.
Kids? Yeah, brilliant, because of course, having children is sort of like a way of achieving something without needing any talent, which, if you think about it, is a metaphor for your whole life.
I hate you.
You're a horrible presenter.
Actually, Felicity, I'm not a presenter at all.
I just come here on my lunch break and do this for fun.
Tissue? They reckon the machines have infiltrated this ship now.
What, this ship? The flagship? Fracking machines.
Affirmative.
You off your food, Colin? Do you want something else instead? Electric.
Must eat electric.
You know, one of them killed Gavin, trying to get to the security level.
Fracking machines.
Franking toasters.
Thanks, Colin.
I think it might be Bob.
What other supermarkets hide in sausages, we hide everywhere.
Just look at these giveaway-style bargains.
Taste-watch Vegeta-Bitz in breadcrumbs, only 18p.
Heat-style magazine in breadcrumbs, only 95p.
Frozen party pack of deep-fried ranch-style dinosaur flavour fun shapes in breadcrumbs, 9p.
That's the Didldidi difference.
Didldidi - wake up and smell the shopping.
Bloody hell! Typical! Have you read this? Yes, and I agree with you.
Oh, right.
Hang on, no you haven't.
OK, what? Scientists say that future generations have a very real possibility of living indefinitely.
Oh, good.
Don't be an idiot.
Did you hear me? Future generations, not us.
Right.
Don't you know what that means? It means we're going to be the unluckiest generation ever.
Why? Because we're going to be the last ones to die, you dick! Well We're going to be, like, dying and being looked after and leaving all our money to a bloody bunch of immortal super-beings.
David, are you jealous? What? Are you jealous of your future unborn children? Do you want your unborn children to die? I mean, not actually see them die, but you'd want to know that one day they will? You'd look into the eyes of your child, all full of hope and wonder, and console yourself with the thought that they, too, will age and fail.
Can you just drop the whole sanctimonious fatherhood thing? What? "Oh, David, now I've got a baby I feel all different about everything.
" "Oh, David, just you wait, David, till you've got a baby, then you'll feel the same.
"You won't want to kill or hate any more.
" Look "Can we not do the baby death sketch? It just makes me a bit squeamish now I've got a baby.
" You vetoed all those back pain sketches.
There is nothing funny about back pain.
Don't make me out to be the weird one just because I don't like jokes about children dying.
I'm not saying all the jokes have to be about children dying.
OK.
I just think it's mean-spirited to resent your descendants' potential immortality, which, incidentally, isn't going to happen.
Oh, hark at Ben Goldacre with his analysis of the science articles.
I've seen you take vitamin C.
I just think you should calm down about it.
They'd better sort their pensions out, I can tell you.
They will be screwed on their pensions, smug little immortal bastards.
That cheers you up, doesn't it? Yeah.
Smug little bastards.
LOUD JEERING It's fine - I'll carry it! Apparently some of them don't even know that they're robots, if you can believe it.
Does not compute.
You're right there.
But their programming can kick in at any time.
Must remember not lose this top-level-security bio-code.
With this, they reckon they could shore up our defences against their next attack.
At least it should be able to scramble their codes for a few hours.
Fracking krunts.
That could buy us enough time to get to Moonbase Gemma.
Yeah.
Colin, what you doing, mate? Must destroy humans.
What? Honestly, Colin.
I'll get you a pudding.
Coals, please.
Introducing KatKat, the delicious new chocolate snack for cats.
Yes, for you, my feline friend.
Available in three great flavours - chocolate mouse and mouse.
Yes, cats love it.
Although that was a cat's paw on a stick.
And it's good for them, too.
I'm sorry, Mrs Dawson, there was nothing we could do.
Did he maybe eat too much KatKat? No.
If it helps at all, the KatKat charitable foundation are offering free feline burial this month.
That would be kind.
I'm too grief-stricken to dig.
Excellent.
New from the KatKat Foundation, it's KidKat, the cat snack for kids.
Are you having trouble getting your kids to eat enough cat? Oh, come on, love, eat up your boiled cat.
It's good for you.
Don't like it.
How about a KidKat? Wow, yes, please! Kids love it! Though that was a kid's hand on a stick.
KidKat, the cat you can eat between cats.
I'm so sorry, Mrs Lawson, there was nothing I could do.
I don't know where I went wrong.
We gave him all the cat the Government recommended and more.
Chris? Er, quick word? Yes? Bit of a weird one.
Erm, have you been encouraging parents to feed their children cats? Yes, five portions of cat or kitten a day.
Why? Well, cats.
I'm more of a dog person.
Fine.
You're watching the British Emergency Broadcasting System.
It's the beginning of the Second Age.
Every ending is a beginning.
And now it's time for the return of The Quiz Broadcast.
UP-BEAT THEME MUSIC Hello, good evening, and come back indoors! Regular viewers will remember that in our last broadcast, they got in and ate Sheila.
So, round one - what happened next? They all died.
That's right, Peter, they all just died.
We didn't kill them - there were thousands of them.
They were so angry.
And then they died.
They died.
They all just died.
Why did they all die? We don't know.
That was question two.
But they all died.
They used to be us.
They used to be us.
And they all died.
Round two is our head-to-head round! But there's only me left.
Yes, but we've still got Sheila's head! Sheila was kind.
I'm afraid you've dropped Sheila's head, Peter, so the winner of this week's head-to-head is Sheila! APPLAUSE Well done, Sheila.
I'm happy for Sheila.
I'm happy for Sheila.
Well, I'm afraid that's it for this week's Quiz Broadcast, as there's no-one else.
There's no-one else.
People will come.
Let's stand together.
Are you there? Yes.
Oh, God! What? They're remaking that Ronnie Corbett sitcom, Sorry.
What's wrong with that? It was quite funny.
"Language, Timothy!" Uh-huh.
And what else was funny about it? He was still living with his mother.
"Language, Timothy!" It was funny.
I mean, are they so bereft of ideas they have to remake old sitcoms? It's not a remake, it's more of a re-imagining.
Probably.
I feel sorry for the poor idiot they've got to carry that one.
That's a poisoned chalice.
Really? The knives'll be out.
Look at Clunes.
Yeah, well, Reggie Perrin was more of an acquired taste.
Everyone loved Sorry.
Who will they have got to do that? I mean, Bradley Walsh? Les Dennis? Jedward? I think they might be looking a little bit more high end, someone who can give it a bit of gravitas but also bring the funny.
Oh, David.
You didn't.
It's a smart move! We can't be cutting-edge forever.
Peep Show will end.
Face it, we're getting older.
We need to go mainstream.
They're paying you a lot of money, aren't they? I want to spread my wings.
I want to do something popular that doesn't involve you.
Jam and Jerusalem's popular.
It's been axed, you insensitive bastard.
Look, we can't carry on working as a duo forever.
This could be my Porridge.
No, this could be your Sorry.
Oh, fuck off.
"Language, Timothy!" So we're all agreed that that's the best way to do it? Absolutely.
It's so simple.
No messing around with poison-tipped umbrellas or snipers.
We just get a chauffeur drunk Slightly drunk.
.
.
and assume that he'll crash the car.
Yeah.
As long as we pay for a bunch of motorcycling photographers to harass him, I'm sure that'll happen.
And the good news is that that only involves swearing another fifteen or so people to perpetual silence.
Yes.
Plus, people always die in car crashes, don't they? Yes, always.
And, er, people who drive over the limit always crash.
What we're organising here, my friends, is a watertight hit.
My only worry is that it'll look so much like a murder that people will suspect.
Well, that is the risk we run by doing it this way - it will be totally obvious that it's an assassination.
But remember what the Duke of Edinburgh said when he came in here to MI6 to give us our orders - "I don't mind carrying the lifelong suspicion of murder on my shoulders, "as long as you kill her in such a way that absolutely nothing can go wrong.
" Well, induced tipsy car crash it'll have to be, then.
It simply can't fail.
Unless she wears a seat belt.
No.
She won't.
She's unprovably pregnant, remember.
Women recently impregnated by the only man they've ever loved are notoriously slapdash about their personal safety.
So, Dark, you're our best troubleshooter.
Is there anything that we've missed? I've just got one little niggle.
Why are we doing this? Well, because Prince Philip told us to.
It's well known that the nation's security services are still pretty much at the beck and call of the Royal Family.
This is top priority.
The IRA can do whatever they like this weekend, let me tell you.
And why's he doing it? Well, because she's so popular.
She's beautiful, and everyone loves her.
We need to kill her now so that people will go off her.
Of course.
I mean, just think about it - if she's left alive to age as gracefully as one can while bringing up the bastard grandchild of a delusional Egyptian businessman, the public's just going to love her more and more.
You're quite right.
As her appearance wrinkles and sags and she occasionally make a vacuous remark about something complicated, people's hatred for the rest of the Royal Family will only intensify.
Whereas if she's dead, she'll be forgotten in a week.
Yes, of course.
You've made me feel very naive.
PHONE RINGS Hello? Oh! Life imitating art, I suppose.
Right.
Well, thank you.
Well, you can stand down, everyone.
That all just happened by accident.
Well, don't tell Prince Philip.
We'll still get our fee.
Watson, come in here this instant! Ah! Good morning, Dr Watson.
Good morning.
And how is he today? Oh, pretty good.
He's already cracked the case of keeping the breakfast down and now he's on to the mystery of the disappearing slipper.
Where's my slipper? Is it on your foot? Yes! It's very good of you, you know, to come in every day.
Well, he has the most brilliantly incisive mind of his generation.
Where's my slipper? Perhaps you would take him in an apple.
Indeed.
Morning, Holmes.
Ah, Mrs Hudson! Have you seen Watson? He's just here.
Morning, Holmes.
Ah, Watson.
I can see from the slight traces of mud on your right trouser leg and the fact that you're holding a bunch of geraniums that you're a retired cavalry officer who's just fallen in love with a Mexican.
Extraordinary, Holmes.
Your powers remain undiminished.
Can I have my mashed apple? Of course.
CRASH! Delicious.
Ah! Mrs Hudson! Everything all right? Yes, just a slight accident with the mashed apple.
Yuk! I think Holmes was afraid it was a trap laid for him by his nemesis, Professor Moriarty.
Yes, please.
Well, Holmes, I've brought your copy of The Strand magazine.
Same headline as always.
Hold it still.
So, erm, how about a bit of a tune on the old Stradivarius? Thank you.
TRIES TO BLOW INTO IT Enchanting, Holmes.
You can't go in there! Only one visitor at a time.
It's vital that I speak to Mr Holmes.
Why, Lestrade! It must be ten years! Dr Watson.
Mr Holmes.
Ah, Mrs Hudson! No time for tea, Mr Holmes.
There's a problem at the Treasury, and the Prime Minister himself has asked me to consult you.
Now, I know it's been quite a while, but as Dr Watson always says, you've forgotten more about detective work than he and I will ever know.
Why have my legs gone warm? Perhaps this is a bad time.
A case, you say? Er Go on, Inspector.
Yes, right.
Er, well, Mr Holmes, some bullion has disappeared from the vaults beneath the Bank of England.
An inside job, we reckon.
This calls for a disguise.
I'm a Chinaman! Where's Holmes gone? Er, yes, where is Mr Holmes? Here! Oh, damn.
Bravo, Mr Holmes.
I think you've cracked it.
Have I? Of course he did.
Just like always.
Yes, indeed, Mr Holmes.
Er, well, I'd better be getting back to the Yard and tell everyone that once again, Sherlock Holmes has saved the day.
Hooray! CHINA SMASHES HE MOUTHS Well! Well, Holmes, another successful case for me to write up.
Isn't that right? I know, John.
I do know.
I can't get the fog to clear.
NURSE! Oh, dear.
Looks like a two-pipe problem.
Let's get you cleaned up.