A Bit of Fry and Laurie (1987–1995): Season 1, Episode 4 - Episode #1.4 - full transcript

An episode rife with controversy: several of the sketches are canceled after an audience member demands they are his stolen intellectual property. A teen poet helps his headmaster to accept the head's own repressed longing to express himself in metaphor. The polite M.I.5 boys return, and a young entrepreneur is denied a bank loan for his drug operation. Fry names his nipples, and, with Laurie's help, tells us how a floppy hat can save you from being killed by a bus.

Are you wondering how healthy the food you are eating is? Check it - foodval.com
---
Um...

Oh! Oh! No, that's revolting.
Oh! It's Welsh, is it?

It's, um... It's blended, is it?

Roy Hattersley?

Chanel?

We'd like to announce that we'll be holding
a competition during tonight's show.

What's basically gonna
happen is this...

We'll be performing
a series of sketches

and, obviously, we'll be wearing
different costumes for each one.

Except that tonight, we're actually
going to be wearing the wrong trousers...

- for every sketch.
- That's right.



What's happened is, we've mixed
up the trousers at random.

And what you have to do is to
use your skill and judgement...

to find out which trousers
go with which sketch.

That's right. So, for example, if you
think the trousers that I wear in sketch A

should have been worn by Stephen in sketch
G, for example, then just write it down.

When you've got them all, send us a card,
also saying, in not more than ten words,

why you think trousers
are important.

And the first correct entry
opened will receive this...

rather magnificent pair of trousers. They're
pretty stunning, I think you'll agree,

as well as a guided tour
around the trouser department

here at A Bit Of Fry & Laurie.

A tour led by the
ever-popular Cliff Michelmore.

- So, good luck.
- And good trouser-spotting.

Come.



Ah, Terry, come in,
come in, come in.

- Now, do you know why I sent for you?
- Not really, sir. No.

Not really, not really. No.

Well, um...

First of all, let me congratulate you
on winning the school poetry prize.

Oh, thank you, sir.

Mr Drip tells me that it's one of
the most mature and exciting poems

he's ever received from a pupil.

Don't suck your thumb, boy.

Well, I'm not, sir.

No, it was just a piece of
general advice for the future.

Now, Terry. Terry.
Terry. Terence. Terenche.

It's about this poem,
really. I've read it, Terry.

I can't pretend to be
much of a judge of poetry,

I'm an English teacher,
not a homosexual.

I have to say that
it worried me.

- Oh?
- Yes, worried me.

I have it in front of me. Now...

"Inked Ravens of Despair

"Claw Holes in the Arse
of the World's Mind."

I mean, what kind of a
title for a poem is that?

- It's my title, sir.
- "Arse of the World's Mind"?

I mean, what does that mean?
Are you unhappy about something?

I think that's what
the poem explores.

Explores? Oh, it
explores, does it? I see.

Well, let's have a look at
what it explores, shall we?

"Scrotal threats...

"unhorse a question of flowers."

I mean, what's the matter with you?
Are you sickening for something?

Or is it a girl? Is that
the root of the problem?

It's not something I can explain,
sir. It's all in the poem.

It most certainly is
"all in the poem."

Now, "I asked for answers and got
a head full of heroin in return."

Terry, look at me. Who's
been giving you heroin?

This is a very serious matter.
We must do something about it.

- No one, sir.
- No, no, Terry, I must insist.

It's in the poem. "I asked for answers
and got a head full of heroin."

This is a police matter. You must
tell me who's been giving you heroin.

Sir, no one has given me heroin.

So this poem is a fiction, is it?
A fantasy? A lie? What's happening?

No, it's all true.
It's autobiographical.

Well then, Terry, I must insist you
tell me who has been giving you heroin.

Is it another boy?

Well, sir. You have.

I have? What are you talking
about, you diseased boy?

This is rank standing impertinence. I've
never given anyone heroin in my life.

- No, it's a metaphor.
- Metaphor? How metaphor?

It means, I came to school to learn, but
all I got was junk instead of answers.

Junk? What are you talk... The GCSE
syllabus is most rigidly adhered...

Well, you know,
it's just an opinion.

Oh,
is it? And is this just an opinion, too?

"When time fell wanking to the
floor, I kicked his teeth."

"Time fell..." I mean, is
it just put in to shock?

Or is there something personal
you want to discuss with me?

"Time fell wanking
to the floor."

- I mean, what does it mean?
- It's a quotation.

Quotation? Quotation? Who from?

It's not Milton and I'm pretty
sure it can't be Wordsworth.

- Bowie.
- Bowie? Bowie?

- David Bowie.
- Oh.

And is this David
Bowie, too, hm?

"My body disgusts, damp grease

"wafts sweat balls from sweat
balls and thigh fungus."

- I mean, do you wash?
- Of course I wash.

Well, then, why does your body disgust
you? It looks perfectly all right to me.

Why can't you write about
meadows or something

Never seen a meadow.

Well, what do you think
the imagination is for?

"A girl strips in my mind

"squeezes my last
pumping drop of hope

"and rolls me over to sleep
alone." You're 15 years old, Terry.

- What's going on inside you?
- I think that's what the poem...

What the poem explores.
Don't tell me, don't tell me.

I cannot understand anymore.
I cannot understand.

Well, sir. You were young once.

Hm? Well, yes. In
a sense, I suppose.

Well, didn't you
ever feel like that?

You mean, did I want to "Fireball
the dead cities of the mind

"and watch the skin peel and warp?"
Then, thankfully, no, I did not.

I may have been
unhappy from time to time if

I lost my stamp album
or broke a penknife.

I certainly didn't write it
all down and show it to people.

Perhaps it might have
been better if you had.

Oh, might it,
young Terry? Might it?

I suppose I am one of the
"unhappy bubbles of anal wind...

"popping and winking in
the mortal bath." Am I?

Oh, your silence tells me everything. I
am! I am an unhappy bubble of anal wind.

Well, that's just how
I see it. That's valid.

Valid? Valid? You're not
talking about a bank note.

You are calling your headmaster
"an unhappy bubble of anal wind."

I'm one, too.

Oh, as long as we're all
unhappy bubbles of anal wind

popping and winking in the mortal
bath, then there's no problem,

but I don't propose to
advertise the fact to parents.

If this is poetry, then every lavatory
wall in England is an anthology.

What's happened to The
Oxford Book of English Verse?

Where's that disappeared
to in all this, hm?

Perhaps that's the
lavatory paper.

- Is that clever?
- I don't know.

I suppose it's another quotation
from Derek Bowie, is it?

I can't understand anymore.
I cannot understand.

It's not surprising, sir.

Perhaps you're frustrated.
After all, it's a lonely job.

I am frustrated. It is a lonely job. I'm
assailed by doubt and wracked by fear.

Well, then write it down. Write
it down, get it out your system.

"Assailed by doubts,
wracked by fear."

You think? Yes. Assailed
by doubts, wracked by fear.

Tossed in a wrecked
mucus foam...

- of... of...
- Hatred?

Good, good. What about
"steamed loathing"?

Better. You're a natural.

Wrecked mucus foam
of steamed loathing.

Snot trails of dust

perforate the
bowels of my intent.

Put on your red
shoes, Major Tom...

What I always say to myself
in that situation is...

what would Lester Piggott have
done in the same position?

Oh, God!

Oh, what is that? That is awful!

- Sir?
- What is that smell?

Oh, that is... Blurgh!

- What is it?
- What smell, sir?

That smell. Can't you
smell it? I can smell it.

- Oh, it's terrible.
- Um, do you mean the onions, sir?

No, I don't mean the onions.
I know what onions smell like.

No, that other smell.

God!

I'm sorry, sir. I can't
actually smell anything.

Well, it doesn't matter. You can't smell
it, I can smell it, but never mind.

Right.

Oh, no! Oh, that is awful. God!

- Is it still troubling you, sir?
- Yes, it is, God.

Oh, it smells like gangrene.

Um, yes...

Someone's got gangrene
in here. Who is it?

Um, yes, would you like to
move to another table, sir?

Well, that's not going to
stop the gangrene, is it?

Once gangrene takes hold... you move
tables as often as you like, that's it.

Oh, no, that's...

Excuse me!

Has one of you got gangrene 'cause
it's really bugging me over here.

It's awful.

I can open a window,
sir, if you'd like.

No, never mind. Obviously we'll
all just have to put up with it.

That's all right.
Now get. Go, go!

Unless it's fettuccine.

Sir?

Fettuccine and gangrene,
they smell pretty similar.

Well, table 14 is
having fettuccine, sir.

Oh, well. That'll be it, then.

It's all right. It's not
gangrene, it's your fettuccine.

Right, sir. If there's
nothing else, thank you.

Oh, no! Oh, no!

- Sir?
- Oh. Oh, God!

- Sir, what is it this time, sir?
- Somebody's got bubonic plague.

- I beg your pardon, sir?
- It's awful. God!

I bloody wrote that!

You can't bloody well steal
something I've written.

Don't tell me to be quiet!
I bloody wrote that.

I bloody wrote it and
you just stole it!

Is there a problem?

Problem? I'll say there's
a bloody problem all right.

That's my sketch and
you bloody nicked it.

Well, sir. When? When did...

- When? When when what?
- When did you write it?

Well, I don't know, I don't
know. Years ago. Years ago.

Yes, well, I mean,
can you prove it?

Prove it?

Of course I can't bloody prove it. I mean,
what do you think I am, for God's sake?

Look, I'm telling you, I'm
telling you, that's my sketch.

You know, I mean, it's based on a
personal experience I had, for God...

I'm not going to let you two just
take it and pretend it's yours.

If you can't prove that you wrote it,
it's rather hard for us to believe.

I don't care if you bloody
well believe me or not.

I'm telling you,
it's my sketch. I wrote it.

And what's more, you two, you're
breaking the law by doing it now.

It's a very serious allegation.

You should have thought of that before
you started doing it, shouldn't you?

Well, I'm sorry about
this, ladies and gentlemen.

Obviously we can't go on
doing this sketch now.

We'll have to get it
sorted out and hopefully

we'll be able to come
back to this later on.

I'm really sorry about this.

This is your solicitor's
name and address?

Yeah, that's right. Yeah.

- Yours is?
- Samson Delaney.

Yeah, well, I've actually applied
to join the plainclothes branch,

but as you can see, I'm on
probation at the moment.

With a bit of luck, uh...

you know, next
month, maybe I'll...

I'll be issued with the proper bomber
jacket and it's goodbye to this.

Thanks.

Every day in Britain, more
than 10 million people are mad.

That's the disturbing conclusion
in a report just published called

Is Britain Turning into
a Nation of Mad People?

Dr Mijory Marjorie
is with me now.

Dr Marjorie...

just how serious
is this problem?

- It's very serious.
- Wait a minute, I haven't finished yet.

- Sorry.
- ...in real terms.

- Okay?
- Yes, go on. Yes.

It's very serious indeed.
In 1957, when records began,

we were, I think, the sixth
maddest country in Europe.

Whereas last year's figures show
that now Britain, I'm afraid,

- leads the European community...
- It is a community, isn't it?

Yes.

Britain now leads Europe
in terms of being mad.

- Well, that's a worrying trend, certainly.
- You're very kind.

Right. Right.

Now, for those viewers who may
just have switched on this minute,

would you mind having this
conversation with me all over again?

- Fine with me.
- Right.

Is Britain turning into
a nation of mad people?

Dr Mijory Marjorie
is with me now.

Dr Marjorie, just how serious
is this problem in real terms?

Not particularly.

- Not particularly what?
- Serious.

- Isn't it?
- No, no, no.

Right, when we talk about

Britain's increasing madness,

what sort of madness
are we really discussing?

Well, all sorts really.

From the kind of madness
that makes people want to

put on a hat when
they get into a car,

to the really extreme madness that
prompts people to go to the theatre.

Right.

So that's quite a broad basket
of madness, really, isn't it?

- Well, we've tried to be pretty thorough.
- Right, right.

Now, for those people who've
just tuned in right now.

Could I suggest that you invest
in a copy of Radio Times?

That way you can plan
your viewing properly

and stop butting into programmes
five minutes after they've begun.

I mean, you wouldn't after all start
a novel at chapter 5, would you?

Well, you would if the first
four chapters were rubbish.

Oh, be quiet. Um, now...

Dr Marjorie...

examining the causes
beneath and behind

and, to some extent, to one side of
Britain's underlying and increasing madness,

what exactly are they?

- Well, we examined...
- Sorry, sorry, who's "we"?

My mother and I.

- And a woman called Alice.
- Fine, fine.

And we came up with some
pretty interesting results.

You see, essentially,
madness is like charity.

It begins at home.

Oh, that's interesting.

Darryl.

Corporal punishment, you think?

I was beaten as a...

I was beaten as a... As a
child. Didn't do me any harm.

Good morning, sir.
Can I help you at all?

Yes, I'm looking for a
three-door hatchback.

Probably...

round about a C-reg,
low mileage if possible.

I should think three, three
and a half mark, probably.

- A three-door hatchback?
- Yeah.

A Fiesta or a Polo, something like that.
Anything cheap and reliable basically.

Well, we have got this Queen Anne
dressing table. Very nice condition.

The drawers aren't original,
hence the price of £1,250.

- Right, right. No, that's very nice.
- It's a nice piece.

Yeah, there isn't much room
in it, though, is there?

I'm just thinking about
the shopping. You know,

whether there's enough
room for the shopping.

I don't want anything huge,
like a Volvo or anything.

I don't believe it.
They've done it again.

They've stolen this one again,
I don't believe it. Oh, Christ.

Daylight bloody
robbery, this is.

Oh, Jesus wept!

What? I mean, you
wrote this one as well?

Yes, I bloody well did. Don't
you come all sarcastic on me.

You know perfectly well
you never wrote this.

Just not our lucky
night, I'm afraid.

Man buying car in an
antique shop. That's it.

That's it. I wrote
that years ago.

Well, it's solid, you see. That's
what I like about it. It's solid...

without being smutty.

Not nearly smutty enough.

Well, ask a stupid person
and you get a stupid answer.

Morning, Control.

Hello, Tony. Come on in.

Thank you. I will come
in. Just for the now.

I expect you will have
heard the news, then.

Well, the place is in a bit of an
uproar, but you know what rumours are.

Oh, yes, I don't know.
I sometimes think

that if I believed everything
I heard in rumours,

I'd be believing some things
that aren't true at all.

Anyway, you'll forgive me if
I yawn a bit during today,

but what with one thing and another, I
didn't get too much sleep last night.

Oh, poor you. You
must be exhausted,

or very tired at least.
Or is that wrong?

No, that's quite right.
I am tired, Tony.

Well, perhaps you'd like to
tell me what happened, Control.

Unless you're too tired.

No, I think it would be
best if I filled you in.

That way, you won't have to rely
on departmental rumours, will you?

Yes, and that would be
a great convenience.

Hmm. I expect it would.

Well, we picked up
Costain last night.

Yes, I gathered as
much from the rumours,

but I wasn't sure
whether it was absolutely

true so it's good to
have it confirmed by you.

I can imagine.

Costain came quite quietly.

I think he'd guessed that we'd suspected
him of being a traitor for some time now.

Which we had, hadn't we?

Yes, that's quite true. We had.

When was it we first came to
suspect him, do you think?

Well, I can't remember exactly,
but it was certainly some time ago.

- Before last spring, would you say?
- Well, around there, definitely.

Yes. Certainly no later
than the 14th of May.

Because that was my birthday and
I remember thinking at the time

that having Costain
arrested and put behind bars

would be the best birthday present
anyone could ever hope for.

I remember you saying
those exact words, Tony.

So, any old way,
you managed to arrest him?

Yes.

He was taken to the ninth floor and
I had the job of interrogating him.

That's never a very pleasant
task, is it, Control?

No, it's one of the things I least enjoy
having to do, as a matter of fact, Tony.

It's very difficult when someone
doesn't want to tell you anything

and you have to think up
ways of making them tell you.

Yes, that can call on all
your know-how, can't it?

That's right. Yes. Costain, I'm afraid,
didn't want to tell us anything.

But I thought it would
be much better if he did

because if he's been working
for the Russians all this time,

then we ought to know what
he's been up to, oughtn't we?

Yes.

That way, we know which of our
secrets have been given away

and which are safe.

That's exactly right.

So, was the Minister pleased
that we caught him at last?

Well, on the one hand, Tony, he's delighted
that Costain has been put behind bars at last.

On the other hand, he's very
anxious to minimize publicity.

- And, of course, on the other hand...
- Oh, hold on.

You've got three
hands there, Control.

Oh, yes, I wasn't counting
very carefully, was I?

Well, let's just say he's also rather
cross that we allowed a Soviet agent

to go undetected amongst
our rank for so long.

So, a mixed reception, then.

I think that's a very fair way of
putting it actually, Tony. Yes.

So, all in all, and what
with one thing and another,

it's been a pretty
tiring 48 hours.

Well, 44 hours to be exact.

But it feels like
48, I can tell you.

Well, 46 or 47 at least.

So being as how you're
so tired, Control,

perhaps a cup of coffee
might perk you up.

Oh, I say, that's ever such a super
thought, Tony. I'd just love one.

Coming right up.

You're a lifesaver,
Tony, and that's a fact.

- Oh, and Control?
- Mmm?

Under the circumstances, I'm going to
make sure it's a good and strong one.

- Bye-bye.
- Bye.

So, do you like heavy metal?

I quite like heavy metal,

but I prefer something
that wasn't quite so heavy.

- What? A bit lighter?
- Yes. Lighter metal would be nicer.

Only, unfortunately,
light metal doesn't exist.

Ah, well,
that's where you're wrong.

Because Genital Records have just
issued a new compilation album.

- Really?
- Yes. It's called Light Metal.

- Is it a completely new concept?
- Apparently.

Oh.

- And what's it called?
- Light metal.

Goodness. So, it's like
heavy metal, but...

- Without the weight.
- Right.

Do you know any
examples of light metal?

Well, the main bitch-sex monsters
of the whole scene at the moment...

- Yes?
- ...are called The Bishop and The Warlord.

Wow.

♪ I'm very much on the lookout
for action at the moment, baby

♪ There isn't a
single moment to lose

♪ I'm heading on for good
times Whichever way I choose

♪ I'm going to pull back with my right
hand Get that front wheel off the ground

♪ And don't try and stop me
'cause I'm not going to be around

♪ I'm a hard-headed woman

♪ I'm a bitch on heat

♪ I've got a sophisticated
body and easy-action hips

♪ I've got long, straight
legs and red, red ruby lips

♪ I'm looking for good loving,
baby That's what I aim to find

♪ 'Cause I'm a good time
sister You can touch me

♪ I don't mind

♪ I'm a hard-headed woman

♪ I'm a bitch on heat ♪

Woofety, woofety, woofety.

Sex and violence, really.

We're a small company, but
we're expanding all the time.

I prefer the quieter
ones, really.

Well, basically, you do need
something to moisten the bread.

You can just run
it under the tap.

- Mr Lully, is it?
- That's correct. Yes.

Glad you could see me
at such short notice.

- Not at all. Do sit down.
- Thanks very much.

- Can I offer you a coffee?
- Oh, that would be very nice. Yes, thanks.

Right. How do you like it?

Decaffeinated, jug method,

low-mineral-content spring water
not quite brought to the boil,

with semi-skimmed milk with
one NutraSweet. Unstirred.

Right.

- Mark?
- Yes.

Do we still have that
chemistry set in the office?

Afraid not.

- Well, then. Just one coffee, please.
- Okay.

Right. Now, Mr Lully, you're
after a loan, is that right?

That's about the
size of it. Yeah.

You say in your letter that
you're starting up a new business

and you'd like to take advantage
of our new Gredo start-up package.

That's absolutely correct. Yes.

You don't actually say what the product
is that you're hoping to market.

As it happens, I've actually brought
along a couple of samples with me.

Excellent.

We haven't actually settled on
brand names yet, but basically...

the blue sachet is cocaine
and the red is heroin.

Sorry?

The market research we've
done so far has indicated

that cocaine is thought of as a brighter,
fresher product, therefore the blue.

And heroin is warmer, more
passionate, hence the red.

If you disagree, I'll
certainly value your input.

You're planning to
sell and distribute drugs?

On the button.

Yup. The market's there,
I'm ready to go, and

let's face it,
Europe's open for business.

- Yes...
- Problem?

Possibly, possibly.

Well,
I think I know what you're going to say.

Certainly up until now this is an
area which has been hedged about

with a lot of rules and regulations
and, to be quite honest,

when I first looked at this
market I thought to myself,

"Hey, I'd be better off
manufacturing red tape."

Red tape. Yes.

But, thankfully, those
times are changing now.

Whole new markets are opening
up and I'm ready to play them.

- Yes, but...
- The demand is there. No question.

- Is it? Well...
- One of the most exciting things for me

is that it's such
a young market.

- Young?
- Oh, yes. Immensely young.

Yes, consumer profiling indicates
the 12 to 15-year-old segment

and, you know, if we can instil
brand loyalty into them at that age,

well, that's got
to be good news.

- But...
- Ah, but, but, but. Yes.

You're thinking, 12 to 15-year
olds, do they have the income?

What I always say
to that is this...

if the product's right, they'll
find the income, you know.

Their mothers' handbags, car stereos,
old-age pensioners, wherever it is.

Yes...

I hesitate to use a word like
this, a bit old-fashioned,

but do you think this
is strictly moral?

I beg your pardon?

Moral. Do you think it's moral?

- Moral.
- Yes.

I'm not sure if I've actually
got any precise figures on that.

- Susie said she'd do me a bar chart...
- No, no.

Is it moral to do this at all?
You know, with children and so on.

Well, let me just say this.
Would you rather we stood idly by

and let the Germans, the
Dutch, South Americans

take over our market share?

- Where's your precious morality then?
- Well, I...

Up a gum tree without a
paddle, that's where it is.

The question is this, either you
believe in market forces or you don't.

Ah, well, I can help you
there, because I don't.

- You don't?
- No, no, I don't believe in market forces.

I used to, of course, when I was
a child, but like everybody else,

when I grew older, I
discovered it was all made up.

- Made up?
- Yes.

I can still remember the exact day I found
out, actually, it was a Christmas Eve.

And I couldn't sleep
and I crept downstairs

and I heard my, you know, parents,
they were talking and arguing

and laughing about
market forces,

and saying how they were going to
have to break it to me one day.

Came as a bit of a blow,
as you can imagine.

Two years later, I discovered that
Father Christmas didn't exist either.

Didn't exist? You're kidding.

- Oh, did you still...
- Yes, I did actually.

- Yes.
- I am sorry.

Growing up, hey?

Ladies and gentlemen,
I think we've got to

know each other well enough over the weeks
now for me to make a little confession.

I don't want you to be
embarrassed by this, I'm not.

And it's I whose breast is
being cleaned, not yours.

The fact is, I'm
not quite as I seem.

You see before you what I've
been kind enough to call

a rather lovely figure of a super and
that's by and breastly as it should be.

However, and this is where I'm going to
have to ask you to be excitingly pretty,

I do have a peculiarity

which I feel I must in all softness be
rather heavenly about, just for a divine.

Like an increasing
number of people today,

I have a pair of nipples
attached to my chest.

Here and to a lesser
extent, there.

But, and this is where I'm forced to
be a little more delicious than usual,

while this one here,
Neville, is rosy

and healthy and
everything one could want,

this one, Sheila,

is bright blue and something
of a young disappointment.

Well, there, in a smooth-limbed,
golden-thighed way, we are.

You've been patient, you've been
glossy, you've been surprisingly supple.

I've enjoyed being fabulous
with you. Thank you.

See that? Just there.

It's a miracle, that. Another inch
and that would have been just there.

Good evening, Chief Inspector
Venice, Burnham CID. May I come in?

Well, of course you can,
dear. It's your house.

Go on, then. Go on.

Go on, help yourself, then.

You know, see if I care.
Go on, take the lot.

I don't care. Come on,
Cindy, we're going. Go on.

Just help yourself, all right?

Anything you like, take the lot.

Solid, no?

How many times have you
walked out in front of a bus,

been knocked over and killed?

It's pretty
frustrating, isn't it?

Now there's an answer
to that problem

because a company down
in Truro in Cornwall

has come up with these
lightweight travelling hats.

Which can be folded
very tightly indeed

but which, when unpacked, can be
thrown away almost immediately.

Which hopefully should eliminate
that bus problem at a stroke.

Dick.