"Hello, we haven't met." "Terry Swale." "My wife tells me you're new to Yorkshire." "Yes, that's right." "I'm a bit of a southerner, I'm afraid." "Whoops." "Can't have that." "No, no." "But my wife's family's from Sheriff Hutton, though." "Ah, well, there's some hope for you then, eh?" "I must say everyone seems very friendly." "Well, you know, it's not all cloth-caps and whippets up here." "We have heard of avocados and hot and cold running water." "Hot and cold running water, that's priceless." "So, you live— –Boroughbridge way." "Ah, lovely." "We got the Moors handy and the Dales." "You know, in 10 minutes we can be in York, Ripon, Harrogate." "We like it." "Mmm." "Lots of good air and lovely walks, I should imagine." "–Yes, we have all got cars, you know." "–Well, naturally." "–It's not all fell-walking and climbing boots." "–No." "You should see some of the traffic we get in Thirsk and Harrogate." "–Really?" "–Mmm." "The pollution in Leeds can rival anything you've got down south, we'd like to think." "Yes it can sometimes take me two hours to get to work there's so many cars" "Yes, that can be terrible." "God, I remember when I was in London," "I used to have to get everywhere by bicycle." "Can't move for bicycles in Ripon." "Worst bicycle jams in Europe." "Oh, really?" "Hmm." "Still, the point is, it's the quality of life, isn't it?" "It's a place to bring up your kids in." "Less of the seamier side of everything." "We have heard of sex and violence, you know." "We like to think that there are more drug-related muggings, beatings and rapings in the vale of York than anywhere outside Washington, DC." "See that woman over there?" "–Yes." "Sally Oldcastle." "Runs the biggest crack kitchen in the Northern Hemisphere." "And what's more, she's not stuck up." "–So, really, it's much the same as London, then?" "–You said it, pal." "Anything you've got down south we've got more of at the Arndale centre in Ripon." "And it's cheaper, and more expensive, and you can't park." "Hmm, I see." "Right." "Well, I must be on my way." "I think I'll just translocate myself home." "–What?" "–I'll just translocate myself home with this personal translocation podule." "What the hell's that, then?" "Well, it's much the same as a domestic translocation podule except you can wear it on your wrist." "That's the only difference, really." "Yeah, what does it do?" "Well, I just punch in the coordinates of where I want to go and my molecular structure disintegrates and reassembles in my chosen destination." "Hang on, hang on." "Wait, you mean like Star Trek?" "–What?" "You mean, you go all wobbly and disappear?" "–My God!" "–What?" "You mean, you haven't come across these?" "Oh, they're all the rage down south." "Oh, yes." "My daughter bought me this at a petrol station, actually." "It's just a Sinclair version." "You should see some of the Japanese ones." "Wait a minute." "Wait a minute." "If you've all got them things, what do you need petrol stations for?" "Everlasting life." "You must have heard that." "Oh, yes." "They discovered it a couple of years ago in Southampton." "If you drink a couple of pints of petrol, you live forever." "–Oh, yeah, we've heard of that." "Oh, yeah." "–Have you?" "Oh, we drink petrol up here." "Live forever, we do." "Yeah, sometimes longer." "Oh, I should hope so." "I'm just amazed you haven't heard of these." "–Who said we haven't heard of them?" "–Well, it's just—" "Bloody designed and built up here, them things, you know." "Oh, yeah, we've had them for years." "They've come and gone, as a matter of fact." "–Have they?" "Oh, yeah." "It was a craze for a while." "No, I'm just surprised to see someone still using one of them." "It's been bloody years since I've seen one of them." "Oh, would you like a go at mine for old times' sake, then?" "Er, no, thanks very much, no." "I had a couple of drinks, you know." "Don't wanna get pulled over by the law when your molecules are all over the place." "Right." "Well, I best be on my way, then." "Still, nice to see you." "Come on, boy." "What are those, then?" "Cloth-cap and whippet." "They're all the rage down south." "There was a pneumatic drill outside our house all night last night." "Fortunately, it wasn't turned on." ""Love thy neighbour as thyself," I said." ""Surely, surely that's not too difficult a commandment."" ""Ah, well," he said, "that's all very well for you to say." ""But you don't live next door to Esther Rantzen and Desmond Wilcox."" "Er, no, I don't mind being interviewed, no." "European federalism?" "You got any other questions?" "–Hello." "–Certainly." "Well, as you can see, we've had lots of letters, erm, in response to our name quest." "Yes, we know that most of you out there have met people with amusing or unusual names." "And so we asked you to send in and write and tell us what names they were." "Yes, and what corkers you've sent us." "Thanks so much." "Yes, I've, for instance, got a letter here." ""Dear Mr Fry and Laurie," ""There is a man who comes to wash my windows once a month" ""whose name is Jervillian Swike." ""It always makes me laugh a great deal."" "That was sent in by Mr Suckmaster Burstingfoam of Ipswich." "This is an absolute favourite of mine here." ""Dear A Bit of Fry  Laurie, I was at school with a boy called Donald Duck" ""and later went out with a woman named Soilia Piffin." ""Yours, Peter Cummin-Myear."" "£5 on its way to you, Mr Cummin-Myear." "Well, then here's another." ""Dear "A Bit of Fry  Laurie"," ""My wife's first husband was called Simon Coggie." ""I still split my sides whenever I hear that stupid name." ""Yours faithfully, Frigmy Popplehate-Fresharse."" "Well, absolutely tremendous response all around." "Thanks so much to those of you who sent these in." "Meanwhile..." "Big Ears to see Mother Goose." "Alan, my dear boy." "Glad you could make it." "Shan't keep you a moment." "–No problem." "–Three or four buttons on the cuff, sir?" "Oh, I'm not really sure." "What do you think, Alan?" "–Three is plenty." "–You think?" "The lighter the cuff, the faster you move." "Four is normal nowadays, sir." "Hmm, well, tell you what." "What about three on the left, four on the right?" "Very good, sir." "Now, I daresay you're wondering why I asked you here." "Well, I assumed you wanted a suit made." "–Hmm." "Alan, do you know why I asked you here?" "–No." "You're an outsider, Alan." "That means I can trust you." "Excuse me, sir." "Trousers?" "Oh, yes, I think so." "Got to have trousers." "Look a complete arse without trousers." "Yes, sir." "Did you envisage zip or button fly?" "Hmm." "Tricky one." "Views, Alan?" "Personally, I'm a Velcro man." "–Bit noisy, isn't it?" "–Noisy but fast." "By the time they've heard your flies, it's a lifetime too late." "Right." "So, Velcro it is, then." "Now, Alan, I have a little theory I'd like to put to you." "–I'm listening." "–The department is rotten." "Rotten to the core." "Am I ringing any bells with you?" "You're saying the department is rotten." "–One other thing, sir." "–Yes?" "Which side do you dress?" "Nearest the window, usually." "I want you to cast your mind back to Berlin." "Problem?" "You told me to draw a line after Berlin, sir." "Walk away and forget, you said." "Yes, you had to leave in rather a hurry, didn't you?" "I can't remember." "–Ticket pocket, sir?" "–What?" "–For the waistcoat." "–Ticket pocket." "Ticket pocket." "Ticket pocket." "No, I don't think so." "Hermiοne and I don't seem to get out to the theatre as much as we used to." "Be rather a waste." "Look, if you've hauled me all the way out here... –Now, calm yourself, Alan!" "–...chicken tikka masala." "There's reason in my madness." "What do you know of Carl Albert Beiderbeck?" "Beiderbeck. 5′11″, medium eyes, blue build, father was a Romanian circus acrobat, did some courier work for the Soviets in the late '50s, mother was a small business advisor for the Midland Bank in Altrincham," "a jujitsu, small arms, big feet, fluent at the violin, distinguishing marks:" "a small mole in his garden" "–I'm impressed, Alan." "–I've seen the file." "Well, then you are one of the few people in the department who has." "–Meaning?" "–Meaning... well, then you are one of the few people in the department who has." "I see." "The Beiderbeck file went walkies six weeks ago." "It hasn't been seen since." "Hence your rotten apple theory." "No, hence my rotten department theory." "I don't really have a rotten apple theory." "–Who drew the file last?" "–That's what I want you to find out." "I'm begging your pardon, sir." "Oh, no, you're not going to ask me a question about turn-ups, are you?" "Oh, no, sir." "About the Beiderbeck file." "Yes?" "I was the last person to draw the file." "You?" "Mr Beiderbeck wanted a suit made." "Said he was going on a trip." "And where he was headed, no one knew how to cut cloth properly." "He couldn't come in for a fitting, so I had to get his measurements from the file." "Well, I'll be rogered with a stiff-wired brush." "♫ Hey Jude" "♫ Don't make it bad" "♫ Take a sad song" "♫ And make it better" "♫ Remember to let her into your heart" "♫ Then you can start" "♫ To make it better" "♫ And any time you feel the pain" "♫ Hey Jude, refrain" "♫ Don't carry the world" "♫ Upon your shoulders" "♫ For well you know that it's a fool" "♫ Who plays it cool" "♫ By making his world" "♫ A little colder" "♫ La la la la la" "♫ La la la" "Come on, Jude!" "♫ Hey Jude" "♫ Don't make it bad" "♫ Take a sad song" "♫ And make it better" "♫ Remember to let her under your skin" "♫ Then you begin" "♫ To make it better" "♫ Better, better, better, better, better." "Yeah!" "♫ Na na na na-na-na-naaa" "♫ Na-na-na-naaaa" "♫ Hey Jude" "Come on, Stephen!" "♫ Na na na na-na-na-na" "♫ Na-na-na-na" "♫ Hey Jude" "All right!" "♫ Na na na na-na-na-na" "♫ Na-na-na-na" "♫ Hey Jude" "One more time!" "♫ Na na na na-na-na-na" "♫ Na-na-na-na" "♫ Hey Jude ♫" "Thank you." "I don't know if I ever told you about the day I forgot my legs." "I can't remember which day it was." "It was one of the ones that happened in 1987." "Can't recall which one exactly, there were so many." "In particular, there were quite a lot of Tuesdays then, I remember." "So I have a feeling it may have been one of those." "Anyway, I was on my way into work with Sir Peter Thorneycroft, no relation, one fresh June morning in early May and we took the shortcut across the fields." "I stooped, I recall, to pick a buttercup." "Why people leave buttocks lying around, I have no idea." "The gentlest breeze and mildest camemberts were packed in our hamper and all nature seemed to be holding its breath." "We made good time by taking a back way across what was then the main Corpusty to Saxmundham road." "I was just remarking to Peter how still and peaceful everything was when he suddenly agreed with me, and said how he thought everything was still and peaceful too." "You know how if you half-close your eyes you can't see so well?" "Well, I just discovered that it was equally true if you half-opened them." "And I was pointing this out to him when I suddenly noticed that I had completely forgotten my legs." "Well, we had to go back for them and the moment was spoiled and three years later, almost to the decade, Margaret Thatcher was hounded from office." "I sometimes muse on what might have happened if I had forgotten my ears, as well." "Never go back, ladies and gentlemen, never go back." "I cried the day Margaret Thatcher resigned." "I cried and cried and cried." "And then my husband and I, and I remember this very clearly, we went out into the garden and we slaughtered a goat in a ritual sacrifice." "–Ah, Terry, Terry, Terry, thanks for dropping by." "–No problem." "You got my memo, I take it?" "–The one asking me to drop by?" "–That's the one." "–Yeah." "Got it this morning." "–Excellent." "–Er, you got mine, hopefully?" "–Yours?" "No, I don't think I did." "–It's not important." "It just said I would drop by." "–Ah." "I expect it's in my "in" tray." "I think Carol's probably dealt with it." "–How is Carol, by the way?" "–Carol?" "Er, hang on a sec." "–Carol?" "–Yes." "–How are you?" "–Fine, thank you." "–She's fine." "–Oh, good." "I thought she was but I didn't have the paperwork in front of me." "Anyway, worth checking." "–Absolutely." "Now, Terry, Terry, Terry." "Terry, would you mind if I just went over a small recap of your career here." "No problem." "Right." "Now, you've been with this company for, well, getting on for three years." "Seven, actually." "Seven?" "Well, I've got three written down here." "Well, thanks for putting me right on that." "Right." "Nearly seven years." "And how would you describe your duties with us here in that time?" "Well, as personnel manager," "I guess it's been down to me to look after the hiring and firing round here." "–Hiring and..." "–Firing." "Firing." "Firing." "Firing." "Two "F's" in "firing"?" "–No, just one." "Mmm-hmm." "–Just one?" "Oh, yes." "Yes, now that I look at it, it looks silly with two, doesn't it?" "Yes." "Firing." "Of course, by firing I take it you don't mean rifles or anything of that sort, do you?" "No." "You mean sacking or dismissing employees." "That's right, yeah." "Although a rifle would come in handy every now and then." "Would it?" "My dear fellow, you should have said." "Not really." "I've also given courses of instruction to senior management." "–In how to fire people." "–That's right." "Well, believe me, Terry, this company is immensely grateful for all the guidance you've given us in senior management on how to fire, sack and dismiss employees from their jobs." "Well, I aim to please." "Aim to please." "Fire to please." "That's it." "You know, that's very good." "Now, Terry, I have a problem." "Fire away." "Ha... ha... ha... ha... ha." "Yes." "Terry, supposing there was someone I wanted to fire." "Well, you know, I always advise directness and candour." "Directness and..." "Two "S's" in "directness"?" "–That's right." "I start off with a brief recap of their career, how long they've held their current job." "Done that." "And then go on to tell them directly and candidly that they're fired." "–Just like that?" "–Just like that." "So, sort of, "Terry, you're fired," would, you think, meet the case?" "–Absolutely." "–Oh, well." "Terry, you're fired." "–That's it." "–Hmm, hmm." "–Terry." "–Yup?" "–You're fired." "–That's perfect." "Yes." "Terry, you are actually fired." "No, no, you only have to say it once." "–Ah, no need to repeat it?" "–Best not to." "Right, so having said, "Terry, you are fired,"" "you would ideally get up and walk out of this building." "–Sometimes." "–Sometimes?" "Sometimes, I might break down in tears, beg you to take me back." "–Oh, dear." "–I know." "Well, we don't want that." "Other times, I might just get very quiet and nod." "Well, that was more the sort of thing I had in mind, I must say." "It varies from case to case." "Depends on the individual." "–What about you?" "–Me?" "Yes, would you say you were a nodder or a crier?" "Well, you never really know till it's happening." "I see." "I see." "I think I'm a nodder." "A nodder." "Right." "Nodder." "Good." "–Terry." "–Yeah?" "You're fired." "That's great." "–Terry, you're fired." "–Just once." "Yes, yes." "And if the person you are firing doesn't take you seriously?" "–Oh, well, that often happens." "–Does it?" "Often happens." "The thing to do then is just to look them straight in the eyes and tell them." "I see." "Terry, you're fired." "Just like that." "That's it." "That's perfect." "Good." "Thank you." "Yes." "–So, well, is that all?" "–No, there is one other thing, Terry." "Perhaps you can help me out." "I'm having the most terrible difficulty firing somebody." "–Mmm-hmm." "–I've done everything you've suggested, directness with two "S's", candour," "I've looked them in the eyes." "Yeah, they just can't take it on board." "They can't accept that it relates to them." "That is very common." "Very common indeed, yeah." "–Is it?" "If you like, just give me their name, department." "I'll take care of it for you." "Terry, would you?" "Oh, that would be the most enormous burden off my shoulders." "How kind." "–That's what I'm here for." "–Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it?" "So, love to Carol." "Maybe, catch you later." "–Possibly, possibly." "You bastard!" "I thought you said you were a nodder." "So, Emlyn, what happened next?" "Well, what's happened is that the lad, he's read the bit of paper with his name on it, and..." "What I think is that the lad is..." "He's gone back in, and the lad is..." "He's broke down in tears and the other lad, sitting behind the desk is giving him his hanky to, you know, dry his tears with." "–I see." "So that's what you think happened." "–Yeah, that's what happened, yeah." "–Yeah, you think he came in, broke down in tears— –Yeah, he gives him a hanky, yeah." "–That's your answer?" "–Yeah." "–You don't want to change your mind?" "–No, that is definitely what happened." "So you think he came in, broke down in tears, was then given a handkerchief with which he wiped his face?" "–That's what happened." "–That's what you think happened next?" "–Yes!" "–And you don't want to change your mind?" "No, that is what happened." "–You're sticking to that answer." "I see." "–Yes!" "Well, Emlyn, you are absolutely rrrriiiii... orrrriiiiorr..." "So, Emlyn, what happened next?" "–Well, he's..." "The lad's answered the question..." "–Yes?" "...and then he's got so pissed off, because the host of the programme won't tell him whether the answer is right or not, that the lad, what he's done is, he's pulled out a gun, and he shot him." "–He shot him?" "–Yeah." "–He shot him?" "–Yeah." "–He shot him?" "–Yeah." "–You think he shot him?" "–He shot him." "You think he's pulled out a gun because he is so annoyed at not being told... –Yes!" "Yes!" "–...whether his answers are right or wrong, that he's pulled out a gun and he shot the host of the programme?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah." "–You don't want to change your mind?" "–No." "–You think that happened?" "–Yes!" "Well, Emlyn, you are absolutely rrrrriiiiiiiii absolutely right." "£20?" "So I said, "I'll toss you for it."" "And he said, "What would you do for £50?"" "Excuse me, you, er, you have got permission to film here, do you?" "143,143." "–Hold on a sec." "–I'll put the answerphone on." "–Hello, PC-143." "I'm afraid I'm unable to take your call at the moment, but if you'd like to leave a message, –Now, the only reason I ask please speak slowly and clearly after the bleep." "...is that we've had a lot of burglaries" "–Thank you for calling." "Bye." "...with people pretending to be film crews and actually stealing Japanese bonsai trees." "Shoe shop?" "Well, there is one just round the corner." "I should be careful, though." "–Good morning." "–I beg your pardon?" "–I said good morning." "–Good morning to you, sir." "Mr Dalliard, we have a gentleman in the shop." "I have parried his opening remark, and we are now having a pleasant conversation." "Mr Dalliard will be joining us as soon as is likely." "Well, indeed, sir." "Good morning." "Though of course, one says good morning, does one not, Mr... –Pardoe." "–One says good morning, does one not, Mr Jowett?" "But, in fact, if you were kind enough to look outside the door, which is conveniently situated just over there, for Christ's sake, you will see that it is far from a good morning." "It is, in fact, rather win... try." "–Yes, I suppose it is rather." "–Very, very win... –...try?" "–Indeed." "So, from win... triness to you, young Master Jowett, how may we serve?" "–Well, I was after a pair of shoes." "Very well, I shall serve them first." "No." "I meant I am looking for a pair of shoes." "–To buy?" "–To buy." "Mr Dalliard, the gentleman wants to buy a pair of shoes." "Really?" "Oh, what rotten, decomposing luck." "Mr Dalliard tells me we have no shoes." "I must say, you've got very good hearing." "–I beg your pardon?" "–Well, I couldn't hear your Mr Dalliard at all." "–My Mr Dalliard?" "–Yes, the fellow who was... –Oh, sir, I've confused you." "–Have you?" "Yes, I should make it clearer than a Waterford bedpan that he is not my Mr Dalliard." "He's everybody's Mr Dalliard." "A gift to the nation, if you like." "As much my Mr Dalliard as your Mr Dalliard, or, dare I say it, and I think I dare," "Graham Gooch's Mr Dalliard." "Graham Gooch?" "So it looks, sir, as if you've come to exactly the wrong place." "I advise you to leave by the door, which is still conveniently situated just over there, for Christ's sake, walk 17 paces to your left and turn into the small shoe shop that you will find next to a branch of Finlay's, the tobacco people." "You mean, this isn't a shoe shop?" "Good Lord and lots else besides, no, Mrs Jowett." "–But..." "–This a place where people come to meet and talk privately in an intimate, informal atmosphere with a view to a massage or several rounds of sexual intercourse." "–What?" "–This is a place where people—" "You mean this is a brothel?" "I dislike the word "brothel", Mr Jowett." "I prefer the word "brothels"." "Yes, this is a brothels." "But what about the shoes?" "–Shoes?" "–Well, these." "Those are my prostitutes, Mr Jowett." "Prostitutes?" "You mean people pay to have sex with these?" "Very much, of course, they pay, Lady Jowett." "I am not a charitable organisation, much though the evidence may point to my being reasonably tall." "Lots of people?" "Ah." "I fancy I detect a wrinkle of concern in your otherwise smooth and tobogganable brow." "Yes, your intimations are right." "Business is not what it was, it is not even what it is." "It may not even be what it will be." "We shall see." "If it—" "Mr Dalliard, I've started to talk drivel now." "You mean to say, really, having sex with shoes." "–Sir?" "–Well, it seems very... –Very?" "–Very..." "Very?" "–Well, very..." "–Well, very?" "Oh, I don't know." "Yes, it does." "It seems very, "Oh, I don't know," doesn't it, sir?" "I mean if..." "I mean, this..." "Fredericka is perhaps the most popular moccasin in this brothels, sir." "–Well, I grant you the lining is very— –£20." "–What?" "–You have just inserted your hand right into Fredericka's most intimate interior partlets." "You cannot be expected to do such a thing gratis." "–But I— –£20." "That's all I get for £20, is it?" "Just a feel?" "No, no, no." "If you were to go into the copulatorium thither with Fredericka and a partner of your choice, you can sauce her to your heart's con tent?" "I see." "Well..." "As I'm here, I suppose..." "Yes, all right, I'll take this one." "Sir, that is more than my job is worth." "If you want that kind of thing, I suggest you go to the Philippines." "All right." "Well, I'll take Fredericka and this one." "Very good, sir, Fredericka and Colin." "Through there." "You have half an hour." "–Colin?" "I won't tell a soul, sir, discretion is my middle letter." "Mr Dalliard, we have a three-way." "Meet you at the peep-hole!" "Well, that's about it for this week." "–That's right." "Sadly the clock has beaten us." "–Oh, do be quiet, Hugh." "Right." "So, until we happen into each other again in the corridor of life, it's good night from me." "–And it's good night from me." "And it's good night from me." "We're going to leave you with tonight's cocktail recipe." "This one is called, "Everything in the Till and No Sudden Moves"." "You can have fun asking for that in your local bar." "And for it you need four measures of gin, rum, brandy, whisky, tequila, Angostura bitters, and a sprint of orange juice and a pack of ordinary playing cards." "Please, Mr Music, will you play?" "–Soupy Twist." "–Soupy Twist."