Are You Being Served? (1972–1985): Season 5, Episode 3 - Founder's Day - full transcript

♫ Ground floor perfumery

♫ Stationary and leather goods

♫ Wigs and haberdashery

♫ Kitchenware and food

♫ Going up

♫ First floor telephones

♫ Gents ready-made suits

♫ Shirts, socks, ties, hats

♫ Underwear and shoes

Ah, now are we all here?

Peacock?



Present.

Grainger?

Present.

Slocombe?

I am here.

Just say present.

Well, if I'm here, I
must be present, mustn't I?

Humphries?

Present, and correct.

Brahms?

Here.

Lucas?

Present!

Now, the reason for this parade



is that people have been
tinkering with the time book.

If the record is to be believed,

those present yesterday
included Errol Flynn,

whose handwriting is not
dissimilar to Mr. Lucas's,

and Oscar Wilde, whose name,
for your future reference,

Mr. Humprhries, should be spelt with an E.

I've already admonished the miscreants.

Yes, but it needs somebody with more

authority to drive it home.

Now, one expects this sort of thing

in Kitchenware and Do-it-yourself,

but not in Ladies' and
Gentlemans' fashions!

Will that be all, sir?

No, no. There's one more
thing, today is Monday.

Thanks for telling us.

Allow me to continue, Mr. Lucas.

Friday is a landmark in the
history of Grace Brothers.

On that day, young Mr. Grace
becomes an octogenarian.

Does that mean he's
not allowed to eat meat?

That means he will be 80 years old.

And a fine age, if I may say so.

I hope I shall be as active when I'm 80.

Well that's hardly likely,

you're not as active as he is now.

The point is, I think that this floor

should do something special for him,

to commemorate this notable event.

I know I only have to throw the problem

into your laps for you to come
up with some cracking ideas.

Yes, well, don't say anything now,

give it some thought,
formulate some ideas,

and I'll use my expertise
to pick a winner.

What would we do without
you at the helm, sir.

Well, there it is then,
off you go, off you go.

15 pounds.

Is that your commission?

Yeah, what did you do this week?

Four vests, one pair of gloves,

one bermuda short, and
a returned overcoat.

At this rate, I'd do better to
leave and live on assistance!

If you don't improve
on that, you'd better.

Yeah, there's a customer!

Let me have him!

By rights, as your
senior, I should have him,

but your story has touched my heart,

so go on, you can have him.

Good morning, sir, can I help you?

I'd like a handkerchief, please.

Just my luck, isn't it?

Thank you for your custom, madam.

Now, in this bag, we have
the scarlet undie fun set,

consisting of mini bra, waspy corset,

can-can pants, suspender belt,

and of course, the black stockings.

There we are.

And in this bag, we have the
same in fluorescent green.

Will madam be requiring a bill?

- Oh yes, for my income tax.
I use them for my business.

Oh, what sort of business are you in?

That'll do, Miss Brahms.

There you are, madam.

Merci.

Bonne chance.

Bye bye.

That dog looked awfully tired to me.

I expect it does a lot of walking.

Well, that's not a bad sale, over 60 quid.

That's just over three pounds commission.

That's more than I've done all week!

Oh well, when I retire,
you'll be the senior,

and then you'll have
first crack of the whip.

But that means waiting till you're 60!

Blimey, that's

Be careful how you add up, Miss Brahms.

Why, that's almost 30 years.

Now you're flattering
me, just a teeny bit.

But you're a bright girl.

Oh good morning, sir, can I help you?

Do you sell fur coats?

Why yes, we have quite a large range.

Good, as a matter of fact, I want two,

one for my wife and one for a friend.

I'll just get my junior to get an array.

Did you hear that, he wants two fur coats!

You can't put a foot wrong, can you?

Look, I'll tell you
what, since you've been

so nice to me I'll split
this sale with you,

I'll take the commission
on the wife's coat,

and you can have
commission on her friend's.

Oh, thanks!

About what price range
did you have in mind, sir?

Well, in my wife's
case, about 200 pounds.

Oh, what a nice present.

Can I have the key, Mrs. Slocombe?

We have to take precautions
with luxury merchandise,

there's a lot of nicking goes on.

Excuse me.

Something in the region of 200 pounds

for the customer's wife.

Is it her birthday, may one ask?

No, it's going to be a surprise.

Oh, if only there were more
gents about the likes of you.

Now this one is 190 and simulated mink.

Very nice.

About what build is Madam?

Actually, rather like yours, stoutish.

In the trade, we call it "junoesque".

Would you try it on for me?

Miss Brahms?

Oh, when a woman puts on a fur coat,

the years just drop away.

In my wife's case, they'd
have a long way to drop.

You look a real treat
in it, Mrs. Slocombe.

There you are, an unbiased opinion.

Yes yes, I'll take it.

Oh thank you, sir.

Sale to me, Miss Brahms.

It's your lucky day!

Never mind, you'll get the
commission on the next one.

Now, for your wife's friend,

may I suggest this dyed coney,

it's specially reduced to 40 pounds.

Well, actually it's
not for my wife's friend.

Oh no?

No, it's for my friend.

Oh yes?

I'm afraid we have
nothing cheaper than that.

On the contrary, I
expect to spend a couple.

Oh, a couple of hundred,
she must be a very old friend.

Couple of thousand.

Oh, she must be a very young friend!

Well actually, she's my girlfriend.

How about this genuine
ranch mink, 2,100?

Very nice, would you mind putting it on?

You have rather similar features.

Of course, real mink on a very

young girl can look dead common.

Um, don't you think you
might be better to give

this to your wife, and the
simulated to your bit of fluff?

No.

Now, how long have you been married?

20 years.

How many children?

Four.

Do you mean to say that poor woman

has given you the best years of her life,

and all those children, and all she gets

in exchange is this 190 quid rabbit?

While she, the girl who does nothing

but wiggle her assets on your night off,

comes for the 2,000 pound jack prize!

Just a minute, what about all the time

I spend sitting alone, waiting for him

to get away from you and
come around to see me?

Don't you give me that sob story,

you think I don't know don't you,

just because I smile and
put a good face on it?

But it's here that it hurts!

When I look into the faces
of my little children,

I see him, and I think of all those years

that we struggled together!

Yes, but you've had him for 20 years,

he's bored with you,
that's why he comes to me!

I make him feel young again!

Don't you think you're
getting away with this,

the minute I saw this
cheap imitation coat,

I said to meself, right monkey!

He's found somebody else!

I'm putting five detectives on you,

and I'm going to my solicitors
first thing in the morning.

You're quite right, that's
exactly what she'll say.

Cancel the coat for my wife,
that will give the game away,

I'll just take the coat
for my mis-, girlfriend.

That's over a 100
pounds commission for me'.

Oh no it isn't, we're splitting 50/50,

the wife gets half the estate!

There's a seat for you at the

end of the table, Mr. Grainger.

Come on, over here.

You haven't brought
a spoon, Mr. Grainger.

No, I'm fed up with your complaining

about the noise that make
when I'm drinking my soup,

so I brought some straws.

What have you got all those for?

Well, they melt, the
soup makes them soggy.

It's like being on a North Sea oil rig

when you've struck lucky.

What have you got in there?

Oh, egg and onion, latkes, salt beef,

gefilte fish, and bagels.

You changing your religion?

No, me mother saw Moses on
the television last night.

Thought Burt Lancaster looked so fit

and manly the diet might do me good.

There's a mountain village in Russia

where they all live to be 130.

Yes, I read about that,
they eat a lot of vegetables

and put yak butter in their tea.

And what's more, they
remain very virile,

right up to the end.

Mrs. Grainger drew my
attention to that article.

You should stick a pat of
margarine in your minestrone

and pop home and see what happens!

While we're on the subject of the aged,

I think we ought to turn our thoughts

to young Mr. Grace's 80th birthday.

Why do we have to think about it?

It's our turn.

Catering did him last year.

Well of course, they went too far.

It should have been obvious
that a topless go-go dancer

leaping out of a cake would've been

a terrible shock to a man his age.

That was his second
heart attack, wasn't it?

His first one was when
Mr. Lucas phoned up,

said he was Hugh Fraser, and how much

did he want for this job?

They should have known
that a scantily-clad

young girl would have that effect.

Yeah, it's a pity.

If you'd volunteered, Mrs. Slocombe,

you could've saved him
six months in hospital.

You wouldn't catch me doing that.

Oh, you wouldn't get in the cake.

All this is getting us nowhere.

What we are looking for
is a fitting tribute.

Something like the Victory Parade

for Churchill and the King.

What about that telly program

where they get somebody famous,

and they show pictures of them

in little short trousers and they end up

shaking hands with Danny La Rue?

I saw that, I didn't like it.

Nevertheless, you may have
the germ of an idea there.

Look, we could do Here Is Your Shop,

and show his rise from
rag trade to riches.

Yeah, but wouldn't it be a lot of work,

finding all that out.

Yes, and all the other departments

would have to come in on it, as well.

Why don't we call it
Here Is Your Department,

and confine it to the way young Mr. Grace

has affected all our lives.

Throw in a bit of his
early history, as well.

Yeah, but how do we find it all out?

Well, I know quite a lot.

I met him one day in 1926 on a bus,

when his car had broken down.

Oh yeah, I can see it all now.

Does this voice mean anything to you?

"Fares, please! Plenty of room up top!"

Yes, you're right!

That is the very actual conductor,

here he is, 127 years old!

We've flown him in especially

from a tribe in a little
village in Russia.

Here he is, being virile
all over the place,

with yak butter on his beard!

Yes, well I hardly think we have

those travel facilities at our command.

Here, I couldn't help
overhearing your conversation,

seeing as how I've been
listening to every word.

And I can put your mind at rest

that your troubles are at an end,

because for the last two years,

he's been writing his memoirs!

How do you know that, Harman?

I've been helping him make 'em up.

Got the lot at the side of his desk,

all someone's got to do is nick 'em.

Who?

Don't look at me, I mean,

but I can be counted on to help you out

with any undercover operation.

I thought you were supposed
to be the one under cover!

Shut up!

Here you are, Mr. Grace, your tea.

Oh, Mr. Harman, you forgot the biscuit.

Oh, sorry.

Was that your hand, Mr. Grace?

Doing what?

Pinching my bottom!

Sounds like me.

Yes? Good, good.

Well start Mr. Grace towards
the lift in one minute.

Ah, everything set at your end, Peacock?

Definitely, sir.

Mr. Lucas obtained young
Mr. Grace's memoirs

about four days ago, and he tells me

that he's managed to
unearth some magnificent

background material, with particular

emphasis on the way young Mr. Grace

has affected the lives of the
members of this department.

Well, young Mr. Grace will be coming up

from the Bargain Basement.

Good, and Mr. Lucas is set up

in the boardroom to surprise him,

so we'd better get up
there will all speed,

because then we can be ready
to come in when we're needed.

Is it working?

Running okay.

I am standing in the boardroom
of Grace Brothers store.

Grace Brothers, that
well-known department store.

Any minute now, coming
through that door there

is a man who has no inkling
at all of the tribute

that's about to be paid to him.

Limited.

What are you talking about?

Limited, Grace Brothers Limited.

Well never mind that, is it running?

Oh yes.

Well shut up then, we've got to

give him this tape afterwards!

Have we?

I, Mr. Harman, and
the Material department,

worship that man!

Shut up!

He thinks that he's coming up here

to interview this new secretary.

Here he is!

I'm going to hide myself
behind the screen now,

we'll see what happens!

Here's your new secretary.

Oh yes yes.

Oh very nice, leave us alone!

You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?

Well my shorthand speed
is 120, and my typing is 60.

Yes, very good, never mind about that

what are your measurements?

Well, 38-22-36.

You've got the job!

Oh Mr. Grace, I'm
sorry to disappoint you,

but this is not a real secretary at all.

No, this girl is just a decoy,

brought here for one reason only.

Blackmail?

No no, Mr. Grace, so that we can pay

a tribute to you of your achievements.

Mr. Grace, here is your department.

Here in my boardroom?

Don't worry, it's like
that television show

where they show some famous person.

Starts off wearing short trousers,

then ends up shaking
hands with Danny La Rue.

Yeah, I saw that, didn't like it.

Our story begins in a humble backstreet

in the East End of
London, in the year 1897.

Here lived Henry Grace,
and his wife, Ettel.

To this devoted couple was
born a bouncing baby boy.

Although born of a long line of cobblers,

destiny had ordained a
different fate for this wee lad.

Not for him, the cobbler's last,

no he was impatient to get
away from his environment.

I'm not surprised, those fur
rugs tickle something awful.

And from this humble home,
he went to this humble school.

Now standing there as that
pinch-faced urchin there,

Mr. Grace, now what thoughts
were passing through your mind?

Did you have any idea that one day

you'd become a millionaire?

Well no, me bracers had busted,

and I was keeping me trousers up.

No doubt, little did you know

what an important part trousers

were going to play in your life!

But that is still in the future.

Leaving your school, you obtained a job

which straight-away made you stand apart

from your fellow man.

Yes, you became an
apprentice haddock filleter.

You'd think it would
make him stand apart!

All day long you wielded
your filleting knife,

and would you believe it Mr. Grace,

we have found in Grace Brothers
kitchen, this very knife!

Which is almost identical
to something very similar.

Not a very glamorous job, you know,

my friends used to call me Fish Fingers.

But soon those fish fingers were

to be pushing your very own fish barrel,

and little did you know
that in Folkestone,

where some of that fish
probably came from,

a pram was being pushed along

a not-so-very-different street,

and in that pram was none
other than Mr. Ernest Grainger.

Small world, innit?

And here is a picture of that very pram,

with that very Grainger in it!

And here, believe it or
not, to greet you in person,

all the way from the first
floor, is Mr. Ernest Grainger!

It was really
Eastbourne, does it matter?

No no no, shut up, just stand.

I believe, Mr. Grainger,
you have an amusing anecdote

to tell about Mr. Grace.

Indeed I have!

Yes, it was 1926, I remember.

I boarded a number 11 bus, I sat down,

and who should I see sitting next to me,

but you've guessed it, it
was young Mr. Grainger!

Well I was, er

Embarrassed.

Yes, I was embarrassed, you see I was

a mere junior, and I wondered if I spoke,

if he would think I was being forward.

But I needn't have worried, no!

You know, he looked at me,
and he said, "Good morning."

And that's the kind of man he was!

Thank you, Mr. Ernest Grainger.

That was very touching, Mr. Grainger.

But we have jumped ahead in our story.

Now, no sooner had you
established yourself

as an itinerant purveyor of filleted fish,

when the war clouds gathered.

Without hesitation, you
answered your country's call.

We didn't hang about in those days.

Yes, without hesitation, you
answered your country's call,

and you give up your fish stall,

and for four long years, you manufactured

tinned pilchards for the troops.

Now, by an amazing coincidence,
after a lot of research,

we have discovered being
served in this very canteen,

those same tinned pilchards!

Well, waste not, want not!

I can tell you, the army bought a lot

of those in the last war, too.

And also by coincidence, there is here,

Mr. Grace, somebody this evening,

who was also in that
army, who might very well

have eaten those very same pilchards.

Yes, Corporal, later to become
Captain Stephen Peacock!

I believe Captain Peacock
has an amusing anecdote.

Oh yes indeed I have, yes.

I well recall one cruel January morning,

I had just missed my
bus, and I was standing

there blowing into my gloves to bring

the circulation back to my hands,

when a large Rolls
Royce drew up beside me.

The door opened, and
there sat young Mr. Grace,

beckoning to me.

Forfeiting my place in the
queue, I went across to him.

"Don't worry," he said, "there'll be

another one along in a minute."

And with a cheery wave, he
slammed the door and drove off.

That's how I shall always
remember Mr. Grace,

never too busy to stop and give

a word of hope and encouragement.

Thank you, Captain Stephen Peacock.

But we are ahead of our story.

We left you in 1918,
still canning pilchards,

and for eight long years
you tried your hand

at this, that, and quite
a bit of the other.

And until your hard work and determination

and your will to succeed finally paid off.

Yes, a remote uncle left you
Grace Brothers in his will.

That was in the year 1926.

By a coincidence almost beyond belief,

this very same actual
year marked the birth

of none other than Rachel Yiddle.

I see surprise and bewilderment
chase across your face,

well perhaps this
photograph will help you.

Yes, you've guessed
it, Miss Rachel Yiddle,

later to become Mrs. Slocombe.

And now, Mr. Grace, does this
voice remind you of anything?

I've
pressed everything in sight,

and I still can't make it go up or down.

You haven't found that young secretary

I had in '56, have you?

No, Mr. Grace.

No, it's the voice of Shirley
Brahms, and here she is!

Now I believe you both have
an amusing anecdote to tell.

Indeed we have, there
was me and Miss Brahms,

with young Mr. Grace in this
lift, and it stuck fast.

Yes, I pressed all the buttons,

and I still couldn't shift it,
and I got ever so frightened.

And would you believe
Mr. Grace cuddled her

for half an hour while I shouted for help.

And when the engineers finally arrived

to rescue us, he was
as cool as a cucumber.

"Don't worry about me," he
said, "save Mrs. Slocombe,

and then come back for
me and the bird later."

And that's the sort of man he is.

Thank you, Shirley
Brahms, and Rachel Yiddle.

So as you can see Mr. Grace, the long arm

of coincidence has always played
a great part in your life.

But we can't go, we can't leave without

one final coincidence.

That'll be Danny La Rue.

Does this voice
mean anything to you?

I'm free!

It's the one with the funny walk!

You're right, right
first time, Mr. Grace.

You guess it, and here he
is, the master of snug fit,

Mr. Wilberforce Clayborne Humphries!

I won't kiss you, I've
got a bit of a cold.

Now I believe you've got
an amusing anecdote to tell,

Mr. Humphries, about Mr. Grace's ability

to make a quick decision.

Oh, I have, when I
first came here for a job,

I went into Mr. Grace's
office, and I said,

"My name is Humphries, I'm
young and I'm willing."

Mr. Grace stood up, he
raised his hand, he said,

"Mr. Humphries, say no more,
we don't want your sort here."

Nevertheless, five days later

you were employed by Grace Brothers,

and only Mr. Grace knows the reason

for that change of heart.

Well, it was because of someone
who was very dear to you,

probably the greatest friend you ever had,

and you know who that was.

Oh no, it couldn't be him, they'd never

give him a day off from Lilywhite's.

No? Well then, let's have
a look at this picture,

and let it remind you.

Who's he?

It's mother!

Indeed, let her tell her
story, in her own words.

Well he's not brought her
here, it's her day for bingo.

Hello, Mr. Grace, I'm
sorry I can't be with you,

it is my day for bingo.

I shall never forget
the time my little lad

came back from his
interview at Grace Brothers.

Although he stuck his chin out,

and he didn't cry, he was heartbroken.

Mothers can tell, you know.

Later that night, I peeped in on him,

and there he was,
clutching his teddy bear,

with tears on his cheeks,
he cried himself to sleep.

Oh Mother, don't go on!

The following day, he was
busy with his crochet work,

and I sneaked out and I
came to see you, Mr. Grace.

I threw myself down on my
knees in front of your desk,

and I said, "Look at me, you're looking

at a mother with a broken heart."

Oh Mother, you didn't!

"He's a good, kind boy."

Oh, she's right.

"He's loving."

I am!

"He'd bend over
backwards to help anybody."

I did!

"Give him a chance," I said.

And you smiled at me over your inkwell.

"Don't get your knickers
in a twist," you said,

"I'll give him a try."

Do you know, I was so
grateful, I threw my arms

'round your neck and I kissed you.

You didn't!

She did.

And the rest is history, once you came

under Mr. Grace's hand,
you never looked back.

In fact, none of us ever
looked back. Mr. Grace

But what about me!

I expect you were too boring!

Mr. Grace, here is your department.

♫ Ground floor perfumery

♫ Stationary and leather goods

♫ Wigs and haberdashery

♫ Kitchenware and food

♫ Going up

♫ First floor telephones

♫ Gents ready-made suits

♫ Shirt, socks, ties, hats

♫ Underwear and shoes

♫ Going up

♫ Second floor carpets

♫ Travel goods and bedding

♫ Material, soft furnishings

♫ Restaurant and teas

♫ Going down