CABIN PRESSURE TRANSCRIPTS

SEASON 1 – EPISODE 1: Abu Dhabi

[bing bong]
Douglas: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, First Officer Douglas Richardson here. Just to let you
know, we are making our final approach now into what I am fairly sure is Fitton Airfield. Unless it’s a
farm. Or just possibly the A45. It’s not the sea, because that’s blue. I should perhaps explain that
Captain Crieff and I have a sportsman-like little bet on today about who can fly the best after drinking a
liter of vodka through a straw. The Captain went first. You may have noticed the takeoff run was a little
bumpy, particularly over the golf course. Now it’s me to land… just as soon as I decide which of these
two runways to aim for. And I’m happy to tell you that I feel lucky! So on behalf of all your crew today,
may I just say… GERONIMO!!
[credits]
Martin: Blessed.
Douglas: Ah yes, of course. May.
Martin: Mm-hmm, yep. Cant.
Arthur: Here we are, gents: coffee with nothing in it, tea with everything in it. Great cabin address,
Douglas. I love cargo flights.
Douglas: Thank you, Arthur.
Martin: Ooh! Eno.
Douglas: Ooweeno?
Martin: Ooh, Eno.
Douglas: Ah yes! Sewell.
Arthur: Ooh, what are we playing?
Martin: Brians of Britain.
Arthur: There must be loads of them! Umm… uhhh…
Douglas: Well, not to worry, as they come to you…
Arthur: Oh! Who was that guy… um, oh, gray hair, did that game show, “Can I have a ‘P’ please, Bob?”
Um, what was his name?
Douglas: Your hope being that it was Brian?
Arthur: Yeah! Brian… uh, Brian…
Martin: Bob Holness, it was Bob Holness.
Arthur: That’s it! Oh. Well, does he count anyway?
Douglas: Does Bob Holness count in our list of people called Brian? What the hell, yes he does. Well
done.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tower: Golf tango india, expect twenty minute delay due runway inspection. Enter the hold at Arden,
maintain seven thousand feet.
Martin: Golf tango india, roger, hold at Arden, maintain seven thousand feet. Can you confirm delay
only twenty minutes?
Tower: *sigh* Probably. It all depends, really.
Martin: Thank you, tower. Hugely informative, as ever. Out. Sorry chaps, looks like we’d better divert
to Bristol.
Arthur: Bristol? Why?
Martin: Fitton’s got a runway closure, we’d have to hold for twenty minutes.
Arthur: But Bristol, that’s miles away.
Martin: Yes, luckily enough, though, we’re in an aeroplane, specially designed to be good at going miles
away quite quickly.
Arthur: Yeah, but my car’s at Fitton.
Martin: Oh, well, then, let us by all means circle ‘round it until we drop out of the sky.
Douglas: Do you know, Martin, all these years and I’ve never been to Bristol.
Martin: Well get ready for a treat.
Douglas: I don’t know, I was rather hoping not to break my duck.
Arthur: Skipper, are you sure there’s not enough fuel to wait? Cause, there’s always a little bit left when
the gauge shows red.
Martin: Yes, oddly enough Arthur, a jet aircraft isn’t as precisely similar to aVauxhall Corsa as a stupid
person might imagine. We’re going to Bristol.
Arthur: What d’you reckon, Douglas?
Douglas: We could go to Bristol, I believe people do… However, we’ve easily enough fuel spare to hold
for twenty minutes, maybe even thirty.
Martin: No, I’m sorry, but we’re diverting.
Arthur: Hang on a tick, though, if Douglas reckons twenty minutes…
Martin: No, let’s not “hang on a tick,” let’s listen to the captain, shall we?
Douglas: Of course, Martin, if you say we divert, then divert we shall.
Martin: Thank you.
Douglas: Unless, of course, we were to smell smoke in the flight deck.
Martin: What?
Douglas: I’m just saying, if, by any remote chance, we smelled smoke in the flight deck, we would of
course be duty bound to land at the nearest available airfield with immediate priority. In this case, by a
happy coincidence, Fitton.
Martin: Yes, maybe, but I don’t smell smoke in the flight deck.
[match striking]
Douglas: How about now?
Martin: What are you suggesting, Douglas?
Douglas: We tell the tower we smell smoke, which we do. We get to land straightaway, they check the
aircraft, don’t find anything, one of life’s little mysteries, but jolly good boys for taking no chances.
Everybody’s happy and there’s jam for tea.
Arthur: Right! That’s, you know, that’s really clever.
Martin: No, I’m sorry, but absolutely not.
Douglas: I used to do it all the time at Air England.
Martin: Well, you’re not at Air England now, where you are now is in the co-pilot’s seat, and on the way
to Bristol. You’ll like it. They have a lovelysuspension bridge.
Douglas: Well, shall I just satcom Carolyn before we make our final decision? It’s rather an expensive
diversion.
Martin: No, we have made our final decision. I have decided, and as Carolyn knows, whilst in flight, I
am supreme commander of this vessel.
Douglas: Golly. Captain Bligh flies again.
Martin: Douglas, I’m not impressed by your Air England mates. When you’re on Captain Bligh’s aircraft
you can do it his way, but when you’re on mine, you do it mine. Is that understood?
Douglas: Yes.
Martin: Yes, what?
Douglas: Yes it is.
Martin: Yes it is, what?
Douglas: Yes it is understood.
Martin: Yes it is understood, what?
Douglas: Yes it is understood, please?
Martin: I’m waiting.
Douglas: Martin, you’re not seriously asking me to call you ‘sir’?
Martin: Yes, I am; why is that so hard to believe?
Douglas: Well, to select just one reason from the fifteen or sixteen that present themselves… I’m old
enough to be your father.
Martin: Not unless you started very young.
Douglas: I did.
Martin: Right, well, I think your age and your previous role has given you a rather skewed view of the
chain of authority on this aircraft, and maybe a little observation of the formalities will help remind you
which one of us is still the captain, so… Is that understood?
Douglas: Yes… sir.
Martin: Thank you. Fitton approach, golf tango india, in view of your delay, request diversion Brisol.
[plane landing]
Carolyn: Martin, you’re a berk.
Martin: I’m not a berk, Carolyn, I’m an airline captain.
Carolyn: Wrong on both counts, you’re a colossal berk, and you’re not an airline captain. I don’t have
an airline; I have one jet. You cannot put one jet in a line. If MJN is anything, it is an airdot.
Martin: Look, I’m sorry Carolyn, but I can’t just magic up extra fuel.
Carolyn: Yes, and I can’t just magic up seven thousand pounds to spend on you taking a scenic tour of
the West Country. And where were you in all this, Douglas? Don’t tell me you voluntarily went to Bristol?
Douglas: I did suggest an alternative plan to Sir, Carolyn, but Sir quite properly reminded me that Sir is
in command, and we should all obey Sir at all times.
Carolyn: Who reminded you?
Douglas: Captain Crieff, or, as I am privileged to call him, Sir.
Carolyn: Martin, you are many things, but believe me, you are not Sir. If anyone is Sir, I am Sir. And as
Sir, I am telling you from now on, diversions are out.
Martin: I see, so, if an engine catches fire on takeoff, shrug shoulders, keep upper lip stiff, and press on
for Portugal. Got it.
Carolyn: All right, Biggles, you divert if something goes very very seriously wrong, and I am talking, “Oh
dear, surely we had two wings when we started” wrong. Otherwise… otherwise you press on like a
brave little soldier, and you stop treating my company as a bottomless money pit.
Martin: That is completely unfair.
Carolyn: Is that right? I’ll tell you what, then. Why don’t you explain to me why you had the cargo hold
heated to thirty degrees all trip?
Martin: Did we?
Carolyn: Didn’t you even know?
Martin: Well, the thermostat’s in the hold, you see, and…
Carolyn: You are allowed to look in there when you do the walk ‘round you know, it’s not secret. Do you
know how much it costs to keep a large metal room toasty warm thirty thousand feet up in the air? It is
surprisingly pricey, so listen, next Thursday you’re going to Abu Dhabi, and you’re going cheap. You will
fly the most no-frills, most cost-effective plane it is possible to fly. You will make EasyJet look like Air
Force One, understood?
Martin: Yes, Carolyn.
Douglas: And who are the lucky passengers on Scrooge McDuck Air?
Carolyn: No passengers, some oil exec has moved out there and we’re bringing him everything he
owns: furniture, clothes, carpets, cat… the lot.
Martin: Alright, what time’s the pickup?
Carolyn: There’s not going to be a pickup.
Martin: What?
Carolyn: You remember that thing I said 15 seconds ago about no frills? Well, astonishingly, that’s still
in effect. There will be no taxis; you get to my house at 6:30 and I’ll drive you.
Martin: No, no, no, no, no, I’m sorry, Carolyn, you simply can’t treat us like this.
Carolyn: Fine. Then do by all means feel free to resign, Martin, and take a job with one of the many
companies eager to sign up the only commercial pilot in the skies who took seven goes to get his
license.
Martin: Look, Carolyn, you cannot penalize me for taking a rational command decision based on
reasonable air safety concerns.
Carolyn: Yes, I can.
Martin: Well, technically you can.
Carolyn: Good, then technically I will. Now, please, go and be somewhere else.
Douglas: Well done, Sir. That’s her told.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[water sloshing]
[knocking]
Arthur [from outside the door]: Morning mum, can I come in?
Carolyn: Do you have coffee?
Arthur [still outside the door]: Yes.
Carolyn: Can I have the coffee without talking to you?
Arthur [still outside the door]: Not really.
Carolyn: *sighs* Come in, then.
[door opening]
Arthur: Here you go. [mug clinking] Do you need a hand?
Carolyn: Yes, pass me the shampoo and catch hold of this. [water sloshing] Alright, good girl, awww…
[dog yipping] Who’s going to be a lovely clean doggie?
Arthur: You know the chaps’ll be here soon, don’t you?
Carolyn: What time is it?
Arthur: 6:15. Oh, damn.
Carolyn: What?
Arthur: I’m trying to train myself to always talk in 24-hour clock like Martin, but I keep forgetting.
Carolyn: Well, what should you have said?
Arthur: Well, 6:15, but not the 6:15 I was thinking of. You see, I was thinking of the one there’s two of,
but when you do it right there should only be one, and what I was doing…
Carolyn: Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, light of my life, do please shut up.
Arthur: Right, yes, sorry. Sorry Mum, I’m just so excited about the trip.
Carolyn: Arthur, you’ve been on hundreds of trips, hasn’t the novelty worn off a little?
Arthur: No, never! It’s just always exciting! That amazing moment when twelve tons of metal leaves
the earth… and no one knows why…
Carolyn: Yes, we do.
Arthur: Yeah, but, you know… not really. I mean, we know you need wings and engines and a sticky-up
bit on the end for some reason, but… it’s not like we actually know why a plane stays in the air.
Carolyn: No, no, Arthur, we really do. We, we do, we do know that.
Arthur: Oh. How, then?
Carolyn: Well… uh… because… will you give me that towel?
[dog whining]
Carolyn: Okay, okay, good doggie, keep still. Because, there are four forces acting on the plane. And
so long as two of them are bigger than the other two, the plane flies.
Arthur: Mum, I don’t mind that no one knows.
Carolyn: But we do! We do! That’s it! What I said, that’s how.
Arthur: Well, what are the four forces then?
Carolyn: Yes, well, I will tell you what they are. Lift, weight, uh…
Arthur: Up and down?
Carolyn: No, no, no, no, no, th- those are up and down. It’s lift, weight…
Arthur: Left and right?
Carolyn: No, no, no, no. Lift, weight…
Arthur: Engines…?
Carolyn: No, no, well, yes, yes, yes, sort of… Um… Thrust, thrust. Lift, weight, thrust, and…
Arthur: Time.
Carolyn: Drag. Lift, weight, thrust, and drag. So, the weight and drag are overcome because the
engines give the plane thrust and the wings give it lift. And that’s how a plane flies.
Arthur: How do the wings give the lift?
Carolyn: What?
Arthur: The wings are really heavy. How does bolting two ginormous lumps of metal to a ginormous
lump of metal give it lift?
Carolyn: Because they are wings. They’re like birds’ wings.
Arthur: Yeah, but birds’ wings flap. Ours don’t flap. They’ve got flaps. But I once watched the flaps all
the way to Stockholm and, take it from me, they are seriously misnamed. So why does having wings
make a plane leave the runway?
[doorbell rings]
Carolyn: Ah, they’re here. Now, go and wait in the car with them, I need to clean my teeth.
Arthur: Yeah, but how do the wings –
Carolyn: Answer the door!
Arthur: Okay, I’m going, I’m going!
Carolyn: [to the dog] There we are, Snoopadoop! Who’s a lovely clean girl?
[door opening]
Arthur: Hi there Douglas!
Douglas: Morning, Arthur. You’re revoltingly chirpy for half six in the morning. Where’s your mother?
Arthur: She’s just brushing her teeth. She says to wait there in the car. Where’s Martin?
[Arthur enters car]
Douglas: Who can predict the movements of the supreme commander? Perhaps God wanted to pick
his brains about something.
Arthur: How do you mean?
Douglas: Nevermind. Ah! What’s this? Who is this commanding presence hoving into view? Can it be
Sir? It can!
Martin: Morning.
Douglas: Greetings, oh Sir.
Martin: Don’t call me Sir, Douglas.
Douglas: Sir’s mind is fickle and changeable. I shall endeavor to remember, Sir, but from time to time,
my natural awe at the majestic figure cut by Sir may bubble up uncontrollably, and —
Martin: Thank you Douglas, truly you are an hilarious pilot. Where’s Carolyn?
Douglas: Sharpening her teeth.
Arthur: Brushing.
Douglas: Brushing her teeth, yes, sorry. Well, in you get then, Sir of Sirs, you’re letting the cold in.
Martin: I can’t, you’re in my seat.
Douglas: Your seat? You have a seat?
Martin: Yes.
Douglas: In Carolyn’s car?
Martin: The front seat is my seat.
Douglas: What, did you call shotgun?
Martin: I don’t need to call shotgun, I’m the captain.
Douglas: The captain gets the front seat in the aircraft Martin, because he’s driving it, not in any vehicle
he happens to be in.
Martin: I always sit in the front seat in the taxi.
Douglas: Only because the taxi goes to your house first. This time, I got here first, and so here I am.
Voilà.
Arthur: Tell you what, if it makes it easier, I could go in the front.
Martin and Douglas: Shut up, Arthur.
Martin: Douglas, I’m supposed to do the briefing. How am I supposed to give the briefing from the back
seat?
Douglas: I’ll still be able to hear you, I’ll be in the same car and everything. And my legs are longer;
yards longer.
Martin: But, I don’t…
Douglas: Oh all right, I’ll toss you for it.
Martin: Hey, no, that’s not fair, you know about me and coin tosses.
Douglas: Heads or tails?
Martin: Oh bloody hell, tails then.
[tosses coin]
Douglas: Oh. That’s odd.
Martin: Did I win? Did I actually win? That never happens. That’s the first time in a run of about five
hundred.
Douglas: Just get on with it.
Martin: *sighs happily* Now, that is nice. Comfy. Ahhhh…. Now listen up, chaps, here’s the briefing,
fairly straightforward… weather’s good, clear skies expected at Abu Dhabi, our alternate is Dubai. I’ll
operate out, Douglas, you operate back, trust that’s all clear?
Douglas: Aye, aye, Captain Ahab.
Martin: I suppose he’s a friend of Captain Bligh, is he?
Douglas: The three of you should go for drinks sometime.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[door opening]
Carolyn: Okay, Team Useless, we’re late
Martin: But that’s because you were –
Carolyn: Shut up and listen, here’s your briefing: Douglas will operate out, Martin back; clear skies at
Abu Dhabi, your alternate is Bahrain.
Martin: Carolyn, I’ve already done the –
Carolyn: No, really, shut up and listen. Alternate Bahrain, but of course you don’t need an alternate,
because today’s the day we try running MJN as a profitable business, rather than a charitable sanctuary
for rubbish pilots. Oh, wait, wait, wait a minute. [car stopping] Martin, swap seats with Douglas.
Martin: What?
Carolyn: He’s too tall, I can’t see out of the back window. [pause] Well come on, chop chop!
Martin: I don’t believe it!
Carolyn: I’m going to count to one. One!
[doors opening and closing]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Douglas: Look at all this lot: carpets, vases, and a storage heater.
Martin: Why would he want a storage heater in Abu Dhabi?
Douglas: Well there is a lot of heat to store.
Martin: Right, we’re done. Arthur, we’re done.
Arthur: Coming, Skipper.
Martin: What are you doing back there?
Arthur: Just trying to soothe the cat.
[cat mewling angrily]
Arthur: Ow!
Martin: God, what happened?
Arthur: I failed.
Douglas: Good heavens, are you alright?
Arthur: I think so. He’s sweet, really. He was just playing.
Martin: At what, being a leopard?
Douglas: I wouldn’t have thought he could get his paw through the bars.
Arthur: Nor did I. He really can, though.
Martin: Do you want to go and sew yourself back together?
Arthur: No, I’m fine…ish.
Douglas: It seems so, and now it’s back to the boring old plane flying.
Arthur: Oh, yes, about that, I wanted to ask you something, Skipper. Mum was telling me this morning
because they’ve got wings.
Douglas: Is there anything that woman doesn’t know?
Arthur: But she didn’t really explain, why do wings lift us up?
Douglas: Ah, well, ascension –
Martin: Uh, Douglas, he asked me. Listen carefully, Arthur. The wing is curved on top but flat on the
bottom. When it meets the air it splits it in two. The air that goes over the top has further to go so it has
to go faster to keep up with the air underneath. That reduces the pressure above the wing, giving us lift.
Arthur: Ah, fantastic! Thanks Skipper, I totally get it now.
Martin: You’re welcome.
Arthur: Except… why does it have to?
Martin: Why does what what?
Arthur: Why does the air on top have to keep up with the air on the bottom? Why don’t they just split
up?
Douglas: For the sake of the kids?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin: Fuel system checked?

Douglas: Checked.
Martin: Hydraulics checked?
Douglas: Checked.
Martin: Transponder checked?
Douglas: Like a picnic tablecloth.
Martin: In general, plane not broken?
Douglas: Plane, so far as one can tell, not broken.
Martin: Great. I’ll go and do the walk around then.
Douglas: Not forgetting, of course, to check that the cargo hold temperature –
Martin: No, obviously not forgetting that, Douglas; do I have to remind you again who’s in command?
Douglas: Could it by any chance be you, Captain Queeg?
Martin: Queeg? You’re just making them up now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[plane landing]
Tower: Bonjour golf tango india, maintain 340, direction
Douglas: Mais oui, mon ami. Out. [clicks off intercom]
Martin: Post-takeoff checks complete, Douglas.
Douglas: Thank you Captain. Perkins.
Martin: Oh, knock it off, Douglas.
Douglas: Knock what off?
Martin: Yes, alright, I’ve never head of Captain Perkins, happy now? You win again in the game of
referencing fictional captains I don’t recognize, but d’you know, that’s because instead of reading the
adventures of Captain Perkins, in my punt at Eton College, Oxford, I was rereading Principles of
Climatology for Pilots and underlining bits in red, alright?
Douglas: Alright. Feel better?
Martin: Yes.
Douglas: Good. I said, “Thank you, Captain. Perkins.” Brian Perkins.
Martin: Oh. Right. Hanrahan.
[Arthur enters]
Arthur: Lunch is served, gents!
Douglas: Ah, excellent! What have we today?
Arthur: Oh, heaps of deliciousness. I spent hours on it.
Martin: Arthur, I very much hope that you mean by that you spent hours removing the lids from our
delicious catered food.
Douglas: Which, to be fair, we are perfectly prepared to imagine of you.
Arthur: Okay, uh, you see, the caterers were one of the things Mum thought we could tighten our belt
around. She thought that with me not having terribly much to do on cargo flights, I could try my hand at
doing the meals!
Martin: Did she? Did she really? And what have you prepared?
Arthur: Well, uh, two separate meals, as per, for someone, this!
Martin: My god.
Arthur: I call it my orange platter.
Douglas: Really? I wonder why.
Arthur: Oh, because everything in it—
Douglas: Yes, Arthur, I can see why.
Martin: What makes the mashed potato orange?
Arthur: Cooking it in the same sauce that I used to curry the baked beans.
Martin: And the other option?
Arthur: Ah-ha! My signature dish! Behold – surprising rice!
Douglas: Good lord!
Martin: What are those bits?
Arthur: Ah, you see, Skipper, if you don’t mind me saying so, that question is entirely against the spirit
of surprising rice.
Douglas: Arthur, you’re aware the point of giving us separate meals is so that we can’t both get food
poisoning? There’s really not much point if you’re just going to poison us in two different ways.
Arthur: Oh, come on, chaps. I tried my hardest, you know?
Martin: That’s what we’re afraid of. Arthur, sorry, but please, take these away, humanely destroy them,
and see if there’s anything edible on the plane. Douglas, satcom please.
[satcom beeping]
Martin: Carolyn, what the hell are you trying to do?
Carolyn: What’s the matter? Has Arthur told you about the accommodation already? I told him to wait till
you’d landed.
Martin: Wha- no! What about the accommodation?
Carolyn: Oh nothing, nothing! You’ll love it! It has old world, Bedouin charm. What did you want then?
Martin: The food, Carolyn! We’re skilled professionals doing a difficult and dangerous job, we need
proper catering.
Carolyn: Skilled professionals don’t go to Bristol. Ask anyone. Skilled professionals don’t forget to
check the cargo hold heating. Speaking of which, did you check it?
Martin: Yes, yes of course I did! How could I forget with everyone reminding me twice a minute? I
checked it before the walk ‘round and I checked it after the walk ‘round and it was definitely, definitely off.
Douglas: On.
Martin: What?
Douglas: Sir means on, naturally, it was on. Whoops, must go now Carolyn, here comes a mountain,
cheerio!
[satcom beeping]
Martin: Douglas, is this some half-baked revenge attempt? Because if so, it’s really pointless; why would
she believe I deliberately turned it on?
Douglas: Why indeed, but I had this sort of feeling you might hope she did, what with the cat in the hold
and all.
Martin: Oh god.
Douglas: Precisely. I did try to remind you.
Martin: Oh god.
Douglas: Yes.
Martin: Do you think it’s dead?
Douglas: No, no, definitely not. Not yet.
Martin: Oh god.
Douglas: Probably feeling the chill, though.
Martin: What flight time have you got?
Douglas: A little under eight hours.
Martin: How long can a cat survive in an unheated hold at thirty-four thousand feet?
Douglas: Oh, I used to know this one… It’s always coming up in pub quizzes.
Martin: Yes, alright.
Douglas: Now then, is it three hours and twenty-eight seconds, or is that a weasel in a submarine?
Martin: You don’t know?
Douglas: I regret not. But I wouldn’t hold out too much hope for the answer being eight hours.
Martin: Oh god. I’m going to have to kill the client’s cat?
Douglas: It’s looking that way.
Martin: I can’t kill the client’s cat.
Douglas: That’s also true.
Martin: Well what else can I do?
Douglas: I suppose you could always…
Martin: I can’t! I can’t divert! She’ll hunt me down! She’ll actually hunt me down with knives.
Douglas: Whereas if we carry on and freeze the client’s cat to death?
Martin: Also knives. Big knives. If we, we did carry on and the cat… didn’t make it… do you think they’d
be able to tell how it died?
Douglas: Again, I fear you flatter my knowledge of cat pathology.
Martin: I don’t see how they could, I mean, it’s not as if it’s going to freeze into a block of ice, is it?
Douglas: Not unless it’s a cartoon cat, no.
Martin: I mean, it’s not as if the Cat CSI is gonna descend on us.
Douglas: I wouldn’t have thought so; they’re so busy these days.
Martin: I mean, I know it’s a bit rotten for the cat, but ten thousand pounds to divert is quite a lot, isn’t it?
Douglas: A fair bit. And Carolyn…
Martin: And the knives… Yes… so, what do you think? Is that reasonable? That’s reasonable, isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
Douglas: It’s a command decision, sir. All yours.
Arthur: Right, I found some biscuits and some strepsils; who wants what?
Douglas: I think we can probably risk both having the biscuits.
Arthur: Skipper, are you alright?
Martin: Yes.
Arthur: Are you sure? You’re a sort of grey color. And you didn’t even try the surprising rice.
Martin: I’m fine.
Arthur: No, really, is something –
Douglas: Arthur, you were asking why the air over the wing has to keep up with the air underneath.
Arthur: Oh, yes, do you know?
Douglas: Indeed I do; attend. The air is not passing over the wing; the wing is passing through the air.
So, the curved upper side stretches the air forced over it apart, reducing pressure, producing lift. The lift
pushes up, the weight pushes down. So as long as the lift is more than the weight, up we go. And that,
my friend, is how an aeroplane flies.
Arthur: Got it! Right, yes! Cracking! I completely get it now.
Douglas: Good. You see, it’s actually quite easy to grasp when it’s explained properly by someone who
understands.
Arthur: So that’s why planes can’t fly upside-down!
Douglas: Uh… yes they can.
Arthur: Can they?
Douglas: Well of course they can, haven’t you seen the Red Arrows?
Arthur: But, doesn’t that mean the curved side of the wing is on the bottom? So the lift is pushing
down? As well as the weight? How does that work?
Martin: Yes, Douglas, how does that work?
Douglas: Well, Arthur, there’s a very simple explanation, but just to finish what we were saying, Martin, I
think it’s entirely up to you whether you let the cat in the hold freeze to death.
Arthur: What?!
Martin: Douglas!
Arthur: Skipper!
Douglas: No one wants to hear the explanation? What a shame.
Arthur: Why?! Why would you do that?
Martin: I’m not doing it on purpose, Arthur.
Arthur: Then why are you doing it at all?
Martin: It seems the cargo hold heating may not have been turned on.
Douglas: Masterly use of the passive voice.
Arthur: But Skipper, it’s really cold as high up as this.
Martin: Yes, thank you, Professor Science.
Arthur: So we should turn the heating on.
Martin: Yes, okay, good idea, you can do it, just climb out over the wing, wrench open the hold doors,
swing yourself in, and adjust the thermostat.
Arthur: Okay, how will I recognize –
Martin: Not really!
Arthur: Oh, I’ve got an idea! We could divert! If we landed now the cat might be okay!
Douglas: Well done, Arthur! Why didn’t we think of that, Martin?
Martin: Arthur, I know he’s a lovely cat, but it costs thousands and thousands of pounds to divert and
you remember your mother and her thoughts about that?
Arthur: Right, yes. But, you know… it’s just a sweet little pussy cat.
Martin: It’s not! It’s a crazed psycho cat! Look at yourself, Arthur, you have open wounds!
Arthur: Yeah, I suppose so, but it’s gonna get really cold. And, you know… die.
Martin: So, you want me to divert, is that it? You want me to ditch in Nowheresville, Normandy, you
want me to tell Carolyn I do have the absolutely cast-iron excuse she demanded for diverting, and it
goes ‘meow’?
Arthur: Yes, please.
Martin: Alright, fine. Fine! Alright, it’s only a job. There’ll be other jobs. [beeping] France Control this is
golf tango india request immediate diversion to nearest airfield.
Tower: Roger golf tango india, do you have an emergency?
Martin: Well, *sighs* we’ve got –
Douglas: One moment please, tower. [beeping]
Martin: What is it, Douglas?
Douglas: Captain… [match striking] I do believe I can smell smoke in the flight deck. Can you smell
smoke in the flight deck, Captain?
Martin: Yes… yes, I can, Douglas. Could you request an immediate diversion, please?
Douglas: Certainly, sir.
[credits]

SEASON 1 – EPISODE 2: Boston

CAROLYN: Your seatbelt fastens like this, and unfastens like this. An invaluable lesson there for any of
you who have never been in a car. In the very unlikely event of an emergency landing, your inflatable
safety jacket is under your seat, and that is precisely where I recommend it stay, given that the largest
body of water between here and Luton is an open-air swimming pool inDaventry. Finally, please keep
your mobile phones switched off for the duration of the flight. Obviously, they have no effect whatsoever
on our navigational equipment, or we wouldn’t let you have them. But, they drive me up the wall. Thank
you, and enjoy your flight.
[credits]
[beep]
MARTIN: Fitton approach, this is Golf Echo Romeo Tango India climbing to six thousand feet, left turn,
direct Luton.
TOWER: Okey-dokey, have fun.
MARTIN: Carl…
TOWER: *sighs* Roger, Golf Tango India.
MARTIN: Thank you.
TOWER: You’re welcome. Don’t fly into anything I wouldn’t fly into.
[disconnecting]
DOUGLAS: Post-takeoff checks complete.
MARTIN: Thank you Douglas. Could you balance the fuel, please? [pause] Douglas, the fuel?
DOUGLAS: Sorry, Captain, can’t help you.
MARTIN: *sighs* Simon says, “Could you balance the fuel?”
DOUGLAS: By all means. You know, you can give up anytime you like. It’s been six trips.
MARTIN: No, I can get you. Besides, I want another go. I know I can do better than last time.
DOUGLAS: What, even better than, “’Shall we play Simon Says, Martin?’ ‘Okay, I’ll go first, Douglas.’
‘Tell me when you’re ready, Martin.’ ‘I’m ready Douglas. Ah!’” I don’t know, Martin, you set the bar
punishingly high.
CAROLYN: [entering] Ah, gentlemen.
DOUGLAS: Oh dear.
CAROLYN: What?
MARTIN: It’s always trouble when we’re gentlemen; I prefer it when we’re imbeciles.
DOUGLAS: Or dolts.
MARTIN: Dolts is good, yes.
CAROLYN: No, this is good news! I have another job for you.
MARTIN: We’ve already got another job this week.
CAROLYN: Indeed you have, so stand by for another-nother job. The fine people at Algonquin Charter
Air have excellently grounded a Gulfstream at Luton, which leaves them with a whole parcel of cross
Americans who aren’t in America but would like to be. And guess who’s making their dream come true?
Our very own selves.
MARTIN: We can’t do it.
CAROLYN: We can do it, we will do it, and we are doing it. Does that answer your question?
MARTIN: It wasn’t a question, Carolyn, it was a statement. The Istanbul trip is Thursday night.
CAROLYN: I know. We get back Thursday morning.
MARTIN: But we have to have twelve hours rest between trips.
CAROLYN: I know, because you are lazy, lazy pilots. So, we get to BostonWednesday morning, twelve
hours break, fly home Wednesday evening, arrive Thursday morning, twelve hours break, off to Istanbul,
perfect.
MARTIN: But I’ve got my EasyJet interview on Wednesday afternoon.
DOUGLAS: Ah, well, EasyJet, easy go.
CAROLYN: You can still do that. I don’t care what you do in your twelve hours; you can sleep or try to
sneak away from my company like a sniveling rat; it’s all the same to me.
MARTIN: Douglas, help me out here.
DOUGLAS: Ahhh, nice try.
MARTIN: Damn.
CAROLYN: Please tell me you’re not still playing Simon Says.
DOUGLAS: I’m afraid I can’t do that, for two reasons…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ARTHUR: Good evening sir, welcome on board today. Good evening madam, welcome also to you
today on board. Good evening sir, welcome to being on board to you today. Oh, uh, sir? Excuse me.
MR LEHMAN: Yeah? What?
ARTHUR: May I inform yourself that MJN does run a fully comprehensive non-smoking service, and as
such result of this all cigarettes, cigars, and cigarellos must be extinguished upon embarkation and
retained in a state of extinguishment until termination of the disembarkation. Thank yourself for your
cooperation.
MR LEHMAN: I’m not cooperating.
ARTHUR: No, not yet, but, I’m sure you’re going to in a minute, and then, thank you.
MR LEHMAN: Do you know how much I paid to be on this flight today?
ARTHUR: I bet it was loads.
MR LEHMAN: Yeah, good guess, it was loads. It was so much that it seems to me that, uh, [inhaling] I
can pretty much smoke where I like, okay?
ARTHUR: But – it—it’s very dangerous to smoke on an aeroplane.
MR LEHMAN: No it’s not.
ARTHUR: I don’t know what to say now.
MR LEHMAN: How old are you, sonny?
ARTHUR: Twenty-eight and a half.
MR LEHMAN: Well, I was smoking on aeroplanes for twenty years before you were born. Why do you
think the no smoking signs go on and off?
ARTHUR: Actually ours don’t mostly. Although one of them flickers. And there’s one we can’t turn on at
all because it makes the cabin smell of fish.
MR LEHMAN: Well, that sure gives me confidence. So, uh, [inhaling] we’re all done here, right?
ARTHUR: Yep.
MR LEHMAN: And I can smoke?
CAROLYN: Hello! Welcome on board. It’s my pleasure to serve you today. Please do let me know or a
member of my team know if we can help you at any time such as for instance by extinguishing that
cigarette.
[hissing]
MR LEHMAN: Hey!
CAROLYN: Oh dear! Arthur, get this gentleman a fresh glass of wine please, this one seems to be a
bit… cigarette-y. Thank you so very much, and please do enjoy the rest of your flight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MARTIN: Douglas, can you give me the fuel check at the last weigh point? [pause] Simon says, “Give
me the fuel check at the last weigh point.”
DOUGLAS: Certainly. Ten minutes early and seven hundred kilos up on flight plan.
MARTIN: Nearly got you though, didn’t I?
[beeping]
DOUGLAS: No. Ah here we go again, let’s see what vital part’s fallen off the old girl this time. Ah.
MARTIN: What is it?
DOUGLAS: Shall I tell you an interesting thing about this thin metal tube full of petrol we’re flying
hundreds of miles above the Atlantic Ocean?
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: It’s on fire.
MARTIN: Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Master caution fire, Captain; smoke detector, passenger loo.
MARTIN: Ahh. Carolyn, we’ve got a –
CAROLYN: Yes, I know, I know, keep your goggles on. It’s just stroppy Mr. Lehman in 3B. Hang on.
[knocking]
MR LEHMAN: It’s taken.
CAROLYN: Sir, please extinguish your cigarette, take the paper cup off the smoke alarm, make a mental
note that that trick never works, and return to your seat.
MR LEHMAN: Nope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[flight deck door opening]

CAROLYN: Martin, give Douglas your hat. [pause] Do it.
MARTIN: You didn’t say ‘Simon says.’
CAROLYN: I am not playing your game. The man in the loo refuses to come out, so give Douglas your
hat.
MARTIN: I’m sure to you those two sentences follow one another naturally but I don’t quite see—
CAROLYN: I don’t need you to see, I need you to give Douglas your hat.
MARTIN: I don’t want to give him my hat.
DOUGLAS: If it helps, I don’t want to take his hat.
CAROLYN: Oh for goodness sake. Why don’t people just blindly obey anymore? He needs your hat
because I want the captain to go down there and strike terror into his heart.
MARTIN: But I’m the captain.
CAROLYN: I’m only too painfully aware that you are the captain, Martin, but Douglas actually looks and
sounds like a captain. You’re not going to strike terror into anyone’s heart unless you chat them up in a
bar.
MARTIN: Right, well let’s just see about that, shall we?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MARTIN: Mr. Lehman.

MR LEHMAN: Yep?
MARTIN: I notice you’re no longer in the toilet cubicle, sir.
MR LEHMAN: I bet the guys call you Captain Hawkeye. (AN: also possiblyCaptain Hawkeye.)
MARTIN: Are you aware that ten minutes ago I was on the point of aborting the flight?
MR LEHMAN: Oh I wouldn’t do that if I were you, looks wet down there.
MARTIN: Because, sir, I was under the impression that the aircraft was on fire.
MR LEHMAN: No, it was just me smoking.
MARTIN: Yes, I know.
MR LEHMAN: Right. So you weren’t on the point of aborting anything, now were you?
MARTIN: Sir, as the commander of this vessel, I must demand –
MR LEHMAN: Okay, that’s about enough. What are you gonna do, commander? Have me arrested? No.
And I’ll tell you why not. Because your tin-pot little one-airplane outfit needs me and my business about
a zillion times more than I need you. You think you can scare me, by marching down here in your Fisher
Price “When I grow up I wanna be a pilot” costume? Give me a break! You’re not the commander of
anything. You’re a little guy who can’t get a game with the big boys, and wears a uniform like a rear
admiral’s to make up for the fact that he’s basically just a flying cabbie. Am I right?!
MARTIN: [voice breaking] No! No, you’re not right. You’re a very rude man. You can’t speak to me like
that. I’m the captain.
MR LEHMAN: Okay, captain, you run along now and, uh, try not to cry into any important equipment.
MARTIN: [voice breaking] I’m not crying. Your smoke got in my eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DOUGLAS: How did it go?

MARTIN: Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Arthur?
DOUGLAS: Well, anything you say five times is obviously true.
ARTHUR: Yes, Skipper?
MARTIN: Right, right. Arthur, did you see me inform Mr. Lehman about our non-smoking policy?
ARTHUR: Well I wasn’t really looking. I mean, I certainly didn’t notice if he made you cry or not. I mean,
he probably didn’t.
MARTIN: I was not crying; his smoke got in my eyes.
DOUGLAS: [singing] Smoke gets in your eyes…
MARTIN: Shut up, Douglas! Now, Arthur, we’ve already had one fire scare on this trip, we can’t afford to
take chances. And since we know that Mr. Lehman has been fully informed of the policy and therefore
certainly won’t be smoking in the loo again…
ARTHUR: Actually, I think he might.
MARTIN: No, Arthur, he won’t.
ARTHUR: The thing is, though, Skip, with all due respect, but what I’ve got that you haven’t is that Mum
sent me on a course on understanding people inIpswich.
MARTIN: And if I ever want the people of Ipswich understood, you’ll be the first person I call.
Meanwhile…
ARTHUR: Yeah, yeah, but it means I can now read people. You know, like a book.
DOUGLAS: Have you ever read a book, Arthur?
ARTHUR: Yes, actually. White Fang. Twice. Anyway, bringing my people-reading skills to the table, I’m
able to reveal to you now that Mr. Lehman didn’t show any of the five indicators of true resolve to change
his behavior patterns, and therefore, in a nutshell, I reckon he might smoke in the loo again.
MARTIN: Listen carefully, Arthur. He definitely won’t, and therefore, if the smoke alarm does go off
again, it can only be a real fire, and so I’m authorizing you in that unlikely event, not to waste time
knocking, just to override the door lock and immediately discharge the fire extinguisher into any flame
you see.
ARTHUR: Ahhhh. Any flame I see.
MARTIN: That’s right. Even if it’s just a little tiny glow-y one.
ARTHUR: Aye-aye, Skipper!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ARTHUR: Okay, he’s up, he’s on the move… Okay he’s in.
MARTIN: [through walkie-talkie] Okay Arthur, stand by…
ARTHUR: [laughing] Okay…
MARTIN: Stand by.
[beeping]
MARTIN: Oh, no, emergency! Emergency! The plane is on fire! Arthur, for the love of God, save us all!
ARTHUR: Yes, Skipper!
MR LEHMAN: Hey, what the —!?
ARTHUR and MR LEHMAN: [yelling]
MR LEHMAN: Oh, oh god! Oh, my chest! [thudding]
ARTHUR: Fire’s out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[bing bong]
MARTIN: Good evening, this is Captain Crieff speaking. I’m sorry to have to tell you, a passenger has
been taken ill. So if there is anyone with medical training on board, could they please come to the flight
deck door? Thank you.
DOUGLAS: Okay, we’ve moved him to the galley.
MARTIN: How’s he looking?
DOUGLAS: Well, he’s covered in foam and he’s had a heart attack. Otherwise, great.
MARTIN: Right. I was just thinking, maybe we ought to turn the plane ‘round.
DOUGLAS: Well, yes, of course, we should. Haven’t you done it yet?
MARTIN: Oh, right, right! Because, on the other hand obviously Carolyn’s not going to like it much.
DOUGLAS: Martin, that’s irrelevant. It’s a serious medical emergency. You ditch into the nearest
airfield, and we’re, what, twenty minutes off midway, so forty minutes closer to home. There’s no
question we have to turn ‘round is the decision I imagine you have come to, Captain.
MARTIN: Yes, it is, exactly.
[beeping]
MARTIN: Shanwick, this is Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, we have a serious passenger medical
emergency, wish to return as soon as possible.
TOWER: Roger, Golf Tango India, stand by, I’ll coordinate.
MARTIN: Carolyn’ll understand, won’t she? I mean, a life’s at stake. I’m sure I saw “doctor” on the load
sheet. Here we are, 7A, Dr. Thomas Price, where is he?
DOUGLAS: Lying low, I should think.
MARTIN: What, why?
DOUGLAS: Too scared of being sued.
MARTIN: You’re joking.
DOUGLAS: No! Especially going to America. If he tries to treat him and anything goes wrong, he’s
looking at a huge malpractice suit.
MARTIN: But surely no one will sue someone for trying to save their life.
DOUGLAS: Let’s face it, if anyone would, Mr. Lehman would.
MARTIN: Go and have a quick look at him for me, would you? [pause] *sighs* Simon Says, “Go and
have a quick look at him for me, would you?”
DOUGLAS: Then Simon shall be obeyed.
TOWER: Golf Tango India, very little traffic on your track this evening. Maintain 330 turn right
to Reykjavik and when in range contact Iceland 118.05.
MARTIN: Oh. Reykjavik. I was thinking we could just go back home.
TOWER: Well, Reykjavik’s much closer. I thought you said it was a medical emergency.
MARTIN: Okay, right, yeah, roger.
[bing bong]
MARTIN: Ladies and gentlemen, Captain Crieff here again, I’m sure you’ll understand that as we have a
passenger on board in need of medical attention, we will have to make an unscheduled stop today in,
um, in Reykjavik. I do apologize for the inconvenience and once again if there is a person with medical
training on board, please do make yourself known to us. Thank you.
CAROLYN: [entering flight deck] Reykjavik?!
MARTIN: Carolyn, hello.
CAROLYN: Reykjavik? Reykjavik? Reykjavik?!
MARTIN: Carolyn, you sound like you’re coughing up a hairball.
CAROLYN: Why in the wide world are we going to Reykjavik?
MARTIN: Because, and I know on a busy flight you may have missed this, your son hosed a passenger
down with a fire extinguisher and gave him a heart attack, so I thought it might be a touching gesture if
we tried to get him to a hospital.
CAROLYN: And what’s wrong with the hospitals in Boston?
MARTIN: Nothing’s wrong with them, they’re terribly good, but they’re 1500 miles away.
CAROLYN: But do you have any idea what it’ll cost to land in Iceland? And find everyone
accommodation and reroute tomorrow and miss Istanbul?
MARTIN: A man may be dying back there!
CAROLYN: A horrible man.
MARTIN: Carolyn, just because a passenger is rude to you doesn’t mean they deserve to die.
CAROLYN: Okay. Martin, listen. We are almost halfway. Boston can’t be more than, what, just forty
minutes further? And, putting aside the thousands and thousands of pounds it will cost, look at it from his
point of view. He lives in Boston. If we carry on, he goes to hospital in his home town. His family and
his friends are right there.
MARTIN: Friends?
CAROLYN: He’s rich, he’ll have friends. If he goes to some hospital in Iceland, he’ll be alone in a
foreign land, his family will have to fly over to be with him, maybe they’ll be too late… All for the sake of
forty minutes.
MARTIN: Shanwick, this is Golf Tango India, we wish to cancel our emergency; we’d like to continue to
Boston.
TOWER: Oh, all better now, is he? That’s nice. Roger, Golf Tango India, route direct to 51 North 30
West and resume your previously cleared track.
CAROLYN: Good command decision, Captain. See you later.
[bing bong]
MARTIN: Sorry to disturb you again, ladies and gentlemen, just to let you know that we will after all be
continuing our journey to Boston, and I repeat, if there’s a doctor on board and they retain even a hazy
memory of the Hippocratic Oath, it would be really super to see them in the galley. Thank you.
DOUGLAS: What are you doing, Martin?
MARTIN: I’m trying to flush out Dr. Price.
DOUGLAS: No, why are you turning back to Boston?
MARTIN: Oh, well, I was just thinking it over and I realized it’s actually almost as quick to –
DOUGLAS: Carolyn got to you, didn’t she?
MARTIN: What? No, she didn’t get to me, she just happened to make a couple of valid points that –
DOUGLAS: Martin, turn the plane ‘round.
MARTIN: No, I’ve made a command decision.
DOUGLAS: It’s the wrong decision. Boston’s an extra forty minutes away.
MARTIN: Yes, well forty minutes, that’s not all that…
DOUGLAS: If he dies thirty minutes out of Boston, just as he would be getting into the ambulance in
Reykjavik, what are you going to tell his family?
[beeping]
MARTIN: Hello Shanwick, it’s Golf Tango India here again.
TOWER: Ah, if it isn’t the bouncing bomb. Where can we tempt you with this time? Turner Reef’s very
nice this time of year.
MARTIN: Reykjavik will be fine, thank you.
TOWER: Are you sure now? I mean, don’t rush into anything because I’ve literally nothing better to do
with my time than ping you around the Atlantic Ocean all the live-long day.
[bing bong]
MARTIN: Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Crieff once again, just to let you know that I misspoke a
little just now. We will in fact be diverting to Reykjavik airport as planned.
[passengers groaning]
MARTIN: Oh, I know, trying to save someone’s life is such a chore, isn’t it? Speaking of which, if there
is, in fact, and despite the deafening silence so far, a doctor on board, and if that doctor has quite
finished his chicken casserole, blueberry cheesecake, and – ooh— coffee with milk no sugar, then
maybe such a hypothetical doctor might like to stop flicking through the duty-free catalog and
thoughtfully pulling on his sandy mustache and walk the hypothetical seven rows to join me with the
patient here in the galley. But, if there isn’t a doctor on board, then nevermind.
[bing]
[curtains opening]
DR PRICE: Hello?
MARTIN: Oh, hello! Mr. Price, is it?
DR PRICE: Dr. Price.
MARTIN: Oh, a doctor? Good lord, what a stroke of luck, the very thing we’re looking for. Well, this is
the patient.
DR PRICE: Okay, let’s have a look, okay? Uh-huh.
MARTIN: What do you think?
DR PRICE: I think probably a bridge.
MARTIN: A bridge?
DR PRICE: Yeah, a tunnel’s obviously out of the question, but if you really need to get past him, you
could use a couple of drinks trolleys and a stretcher to rig up a rudimentary cantilever bridge; that, at
least, is my professional opinion as a PhD in civil engineering. Or has one of us made some sort of
really embarrassing mistake?
MARTIN: I’m so sorry. I didn’t…
DR PRICE: Yeah, oh, and by the way, I don’t know anything about medicine, but this guy doesn’t need a
doctor.
MARTIN: What?
DR PRICE: Not anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CAROLYN: Turn the plane around.

MARTIN: You’re not listening to me.
CAROLYN: No, and far more importantly, you’re not turning the plane around. Do it. Now.
MARTIN: I can’t turn the plane around.
CAROLYN: Martin, if there is one thing you’ve proved on this trip over and over again, it’s that you can
turn the plane around. Or were we just caught in a slow-motion hurricane?
MARTIN: But Mr. Lehman –
CAROLYN: Is dead, God rest his grumpy soul. So he doesn’t need an ambulance, he doesn’t need a
hospital. All he needs is to be taken home, to Boston.
MARTIN: Douglas?
DOUGLAS: You could tell her we no longer have enough fuel left to get to Boston safely.
MARTIN: Yes, thank you, Carolyn, we no –
DOUGLAS: But we do.
MARTIN: Thank you so much.
DOUGLAS: Sorry, but she’s right, we should go to Boston.
CAROLYN: Ah-ha!
MARTIN: Fine, fine, we’ll go to Boston, but only if…
CAROLYN: Yes?
MARTIN: Douglas talks to Shanwick.
CAROLYN: Douglas?
DOUGLAS: My pleasure.
[beeping]
DOUGLAS: Hello, Shanwick. Greetings once again from the merry men of Yo-Yo Airways.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ARTHUR: Well, goodbye, then. I feel someone should, um, say a few words. Hamilton R. Lehman.
Born, 1943 in… America, probably. Died, 2008 in the sky. Definitely. Non-vegetarian option. I didn’t
know you for very long, Mr. Lehman, but I’ll always remember you as, as a shouty man. You loved to
shout. Shout and smoke, those were your twin passions. And so, in a way, I suppose you died doing
what you loved. Shouting and smoking and covered in foam. I don’t know if you liked that. You
probably didn’t. Still, goodbye. Rest in peace. Thank you for flying MJN Air.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MARTIN: Do you think we’ll make it in time?

DOUGLAS: Remember how I didn’t know three minutes ago?
MARTIN: *sighs*
DOUGLAS: No new information has come in since then.
MARTIN: Right. *sighs*
DOUGLAS: You alright?
MARTIN: Yes, it’s just, you know, it hasn’t been a great trip, has it? I think possibly I made a few… well I
didn’t exactly… I’ve got this interview when we get back – if we get back in time, which I doubt – and I
just wondered if, as a captain, if things… I mean, I only ask because of course you were a captain for a
while, and I just wondered if, I mean it’s a bit difficult, but, could you give me some advice?
DOUGLAS: Well, the main thing is, you’ve got to stop asking for advice.
MARTIN: Great, thanks.
DOUGLAS: It’s okay, you can start as soon as I’ve given you mine. You’re the captain, Martin. And one
of the many excellent things about being captain, along with the irresistible sexual magnetism, and first
crack at the cheese tray, is that you’re always right. So, by all means, take opinions, but remember, you
don’t have to listen to Carolyn, you don’t have to listen to ATC, you don’t even – and savor this because I
shall never say it again – you don’t even have to listen to me. You’re the boss. What you say goes.
MARTIN: Yes. Yes, you’re right. Okay. Thank you. But, uh, Douglas…
DOUGLAS: What?
MARTIN: Simon says, “Could you give me some advice?”
DOUGLAS: Ahhhh… Well done.
MARTIN: My turn! My turn!
DOUGLAS: Alright. Tell me when you’re ready. [pause] Simon says, “Tell me when you’re ready.”
MARTIN: I’m ready.
DOUGLAS: Come again?
MARTIN: I’m ready! Ohh!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ARTHUR: Goodbye, thank you for flying MJN Air! Goodbye, thank you for flying MJN Air! Goodbye,
thank you for flying MJN Air! Goodbye, tha – Oh, that’s it. All done, Mum!
DOUGLAS: And we’re all finished at the pointy end with a cheeky little twelve minutes in hand before we
go out of hours.
CAROLYN: Great, well, the paramedics are back there in the galley with Mr. L, so as soon as they’re
ready… Oh, speak of the devils. Well, the angels.
PARAMEDIC: Are you Carolyn Knapp-Shappey?
CAROLYN: Yes.
PARAMEDIC: Did you call up an ambulance crew, ma’am?
CAROLYN: Yes, I did.
PARAMEDIC: And why did you do that?
CAROLYN: Why? Well because, well I mean, look at him.
PARAMEDIC: We are looking at him, and we’d like to know what you expect us to do with him.
CAROLYN: I have to tell you I really don’t mind. Once he’s off my plane, as far as I’m concerned, you
can let your imagination run wild.
PARAMEDIC: Ma’am, he’s dead. He’s been dead some time. We are an emergency service. This guy,
not so much an emergency.
CAROLYN: Well what am I supposed to do? Carry him to the hospital over my shoulder?
PARAMEDIC: Ma’am, you need to contact the coroner’s office. They’ll send out a vehicle.
CAROLYN: When?
PARAMEDIC: I don’t know; when they can. You just give them a call tomorrow morning, see when they
can do.
DOUGLAS: Tomorrow morning?
PARAMEDIC: Yeah, they’ll be all closed up now.
CAROLYN: So what are we supposed to do, just leave him here until they’re ready for him?
PARAMEDIC: Absolutely not.
CAROLYN: Good!
PARAMEDIC: You’re gonna need to remain in attendance.
CAROLYN: What?! But, we, we, we can’t! We can’t!
MARTIN: Just one moment if you please.
CAROLYN: Martin, don’t.
PARAMEDIC: Sir…
MARTIN: Madam, I don’t think you appreciate that I am the captain of this aircraft, not her.
PARAMEDIC: Yeah, and…?
MARTIN: And… and… I just saw him move.
PARAMEDIC: No, you didn’t.
MARTIN: I absolutely did.
PARAMEDIC: This man’s been dead for some time, sir.
MARTIN: I don’t think so; I’m telling you, I just saw him move.
PARAMEDIC: What movement did he make?
MARTIN: He did a little wave.
PARAMEDIC: I don’t think so.
MARTIN: Well I do think so, and I am an airline captain, the commander of this vessel, and I’m willing to
swear anywhere that he absolutely did. He gave me a little wave, and then he pointed at you, and then
he tapped his watch as if to say “Why aren’t I in the hospital already?” And then he relapsed into his
unconscious state, so it seems to me you can either refuse to take him and I can while away the hours I
spend waiting with him filing a complaint against you for negligence, which will tie us all up in endless
red tape until I eventually agree that maybe what I saw was just rigor mortis, or you can take him with
you now in your big, empty ambulance, to the hospital, to which you are going anyway, and we can all
hope and pray he doesn’t die on the way.
PARAMEDIC: Okay, Lucas, patient seen exhibiting vital signs, get him on the gurney.
MARTIN: Thank you so much.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CAROLYN: Where is he?

DOUGLAS: Well, if last night’s anything to go by, he’s telling the whole story to every third person he
meets. It slows him down a tad.
ARTHUR: While we’re waiting, can I just have a quick look in duty free?
CAROLYN: No, Arthur, you do not need any more Toblerones.
ARTHUR: Mum, they’ve got the white ones!
MARTIN: Ah-ha! There you all are! Good morning, good morning, good morning, good morning!
DOUGLAS: Good morning, Martin! Still feeling pretty chipper, I see.
MARTIN: And whyever not? Twelve hours restful rest, beautiful blue sky to fly in, and a certain sense of
a job rather well done.
CAROLYN: Yes, Martin, we’re all delighted by your new-found butch-ness, now can we please just get
through customs and go home?
CUSTOMS: Is this your bag, sir?
MARTIN: Yes, yes. I’m sorry, Carolyn, do I detect a note of tetchiness? Surely you haven’t already
forgotten how I singlehandedly saved you from losing out on a trip worth tens of thousands of pounds.
CUSTOMS: I’m just gonna take a look through it.
MARTIN: Yeah, fine.
CAROLYN: Not yet, you haven’t. We’ve still got to get back on time.
MARTIN: You needn’t worry about that Carolyn; clear skies, no wind, no pesky passengers to peg
out midway… Istanbul awaits us. As indeed do the good people of EasyJet, await me anyway.
CUSTOMS: What’s this?
MARTIN: What?
CUSTOMS: What’s this?
MARTIN: Well, since you ask, it’s a nose hair clipper, okay?
CUSTOMS: It can’t go in your hand luggage. You need to put it in the hold.
MARTIN: But they’re nasal clippers. What am I supposed to do with nasal clippers?
CUSTOMS: I’m sorry sir, that’s federal law.
MARTIN: You do realize we have an ax on the flight deck, don’t you?
CUSTOMS: What?
DOUGLAS: OF course, Captain, there is a time and a place for the strong-arm tac –
MARTIN: We have a fire ax. So you’re stopping me from equipping myself with the deadly power of the
nose hairs trimmer on board a plan where I can, should the mood take me, brandish an ax.
CUSTOMS: I’m not sure what you’re telling me, sir.
DOUGLAS: He’s not telling you anything, he doesn’t want his silly old clippers anyway, repulsive object.
Come on, Martin, before you say anything you might –
MARTIN: And besides that, I’m the one flying the bloody thing, if I want to crash the plane I don’t even
need an ax, I just need to push on the big metal column in front of me…
[thud]
MARTIN: Ugh!
CUSTOMS: Sir, I am arresting you under Section 6 of the Anti-Terrorism Actof 2002.
MARTIN: What?!
CUSTOMS: You were heard in the presence of witnesses to make a threat against the safety of the
aircraft. Please come with me. Sir!
CAROLYN: You idiot, Martin! You colossal idiot!
[struggling]
MARTIN: But I’ve gotta fly the plane in forty minutes!
CUSTOMS: Oh, no sir, I don’t think so. Come with me, please!
[struggling]
CAROLYN: Come back! Come back! Bring him back!
DOUGLAS: So, Arthur, shall we take a look at those Toblerones?

SEASON 1 – EPISODE 3: Cremona

[bing bong]

Douglas: Good evening, this is first officer Douglas Richardson. Just to let you know, we’re now making
our final preparations to fly you to the moon. While we’re airborne, I do hope you’ll take advantage of
the opportunity to play among the stars. Those of you sitting on the left hand side of the aircraft should
have an excellent view of what spring is like on Jupiter. And on the right hand side, Mars. In other
words, hold my hand. In other words, baby, kiss me. Cabin doors to automatic.

[credits]

Martin: [chuckling] Very good, very good. Okay, my turn.

Douglas: Alright, uh… do “Come Fly with Me.”

[bing bong]

Martin: Good evening ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of MJN air, I’d like to invite you to [singing] Come
fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away…

Carolyn: [on intercom] Martin, Martin what on earth are you doing?

Martin: Carolyn, I, yes, nothing.

Carolyn: What’s going on in there? You’ve been on stand for half an hour! I’ve been waiting for you in
the portacabin.

Douglas: Yes, we saw your light was on and we thought you might still be there.

Carolyn: But you didn’t come in!

Douglas: No, we saw your light was on and we thought you might still be there.

Carolyn: Well come in now, I want to talk to you. Well heaven knows that’s not true but I have things to
tell you!

[disconnecting]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[doors opening]

Carolyn: Ah, at last! Now, then. Guess who’s got a job tomorrow. I’ll give you a clue: it’s us!
Douglas: And they called Hitchcock the master of suspense.

Carolyn: Anyway, you’ll like this trip. You’re taking a film star to Italy.

Martin: A film star?

Carolyn: Mm-hmm.

Martin: Which one?

Carolyn: Hester Macaulay.

Martin: Oh, yes, wasn’t she –

Arthur: Hester Macaulay?!

Douglas: Good lord! Arthur, I didn’t know you were here!

Arthur: Hester Macaulay?! The Lady of the Lake?! In my cabin?!

Martin: What were you doing behind there?

Carolyn: And what are you talking about, idiot child?

Arthur: She was Griselda! The lady of the lake! In Quest for Camelot!

Carolyn: Oh, was she?

Arthur: Yes! She’s the one who tells Arthur to bring her Excalibur.

Douglas: Bring her Excalibur? Surely she gives him Excalibur.

Arthur: How could she give him Excalibur? Excalibur’s a person.

Douglas: Right. Keen Arthurian scholars, were they, these filmmakers?

Arthur: Well, I say person; obviously it famously turns out he’s a vampire.

Carolyn: Arthur, there’s something on your face.

Arthur: Oh, got it?

Carolyn: No, no, lower. It’s hanging of the bottom of your face. It’s a sort of huge shelf of bone and
flesh and it’s flapping about making a horrible noise. Can you make it stop?

Arthur: Right. Yes. Sorry, mum.

Carolyn: Thank you. Now, scatter to the winds, all of you. Martin: flight plan; Douglas: load sheet;
Arthur: coffee.

Arthur: Right.
Carolyn: Fly, my pretties! Fly!

Martin: Come on, monkey-face.

Arthur: Right-o.

[door opening and closing]

Douglas: Cremona? So I imagine we’re staying at the Excelsior?

Carolyn: Then carry on imagining, Douglas, because that’s as close as you’re getting. Ms. Macaulay
will be at the Excelsior; you will be over the road at the Garibaldi.

Douglas: Oh, no! The Garibaldi’s an absolute dump!

Carolyn: A dump, yes, but a keenly-priced dump.

Douglas: If this was a proper airline we’d be staying at the Excelsior.

Carolyn: Agreed. And if you were proper pilots, you’d be flying with a proper airline. Impasse. Now, go
and do me that load sheet. One passenger and a dozen shirts.

Douglas: One of our sweatier actresses, is she?

Carolyn: No, the film’s set in Fascist Italy, and apparently the studio needs some extra black shirts for
the um…

Douglas: Extras?

Carolyn: Yes, playing…

Douglas: Blackshirts?

Carolyn: Precisely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin: [rehearsing to himself] “Good morning, madam, and welc – ” No,ma’am. “Good morning, ma’am,
and welc –” No, she’s not the Queen! Hmmm. “Good morning, Ms. Macaulay, and we – ” No; madam.

Arthur: [entering with Douglas] The thing is, it is unprofessional to tell a passenger that you once made
a collage of her face out of pasta shapes?

Douglas: I really don’t know.

Arthur: You see, part of me thinks –

Douglas: Oh, I’m sorry; did I say ‘know’? I meant ‘care,’ I don’t really care. Morning, Martin, you’re
looking very smart.
Martin: [defensively] No, I’m not, no more than usual. This is how I always look; what are you saying?

Douglas: Yes, you’re quite right, it was an unforgivable compliment; I do apologize. Now then, Arthur,
spot test.

Arthur: Ah, great, I love these!

Douglas: What can you tell me about the group of people we passed just now waiting outside the
portacabin?

Arthur: Right, um… I didn’t really notice them… Um… Mostly men, I think. I think one of them had a
beard. That’s it.

Douglas: There were about thirty of them, all wearing homemade suits of armor and singing a song
about a dragon.

Arthur: Yeah, now you say that…

Martin: Suits of armor? Why on earth…?

[door banging open]

Crowd: [singing] As it was written, so it shall be!

Hester: Thank you, thank you. Yes, thank you. Oh, hello. MJN Air?

Martin: Yes, hellooo! Ah, good morning, Ms Madam, and welc – Ma – Madam Macaulay – Ms Maa –
mmm Ms Macaulay…

Hester: Hm! Thank you! But please, call me Hester.

Douglas: Yes, the full title’s rather a mouthful, isn’t it?

Martin: [stuttering] This is First Offi – I mean, I’m Captain Martin Crieff, but this is the First Officer
Douglas Richardson, the co-pilot.

Hester: Pleased to meet you, Mr Co-Pilot. Is that like being a co-star?

Douglas: I suppose it is, yes.

Martin: [laughing] Well, not really, I mean, a co-star is equal with the other co-star, whereas the co-pilot
is junior to me.

Hester: Oh yes, I’m sure he is, Captain Crieff.

Martin: Please, call me Madam – Martin!

Hester: Thank you, Martin, I will. And who is this?

Arthur: Hello. I’m Arthur.

Hester: What?

Arthur: Uh… I’m Arthur?

Hester: King of the Britons?

Arthur: Steward of the Aeroplane.

Douglas: Yeah, he really is called Arthur.

Hester: Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry, Arthur. I thought you were one of those idiotic fans. Now, I wonder if I
could just have a quick word with the manager?

Martin: Oh, yes, yes, of course. Just through that door there.

Hester: Thank you so much Captain — uh, Martin.

Martin: You’re quite welcome… Hester.

Douglas: Oh, quite welcome, Hester. Quite, quite, quite.

Martin: Jealous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carolyn: Oh, hello. You must be Ms Macaulay. How splendid to meet you.

Hester: Where’s the manager? I want to speak to him.

Carolyn: Well, I’m her. Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, owner and manager.

Hester: Alright, then what the hell is going on here? I arrive at what I’m assured is a competent and
discreet private charter firm to find the entrance thronged with my fans…

Carolyn: Would you call them a throng?

Hester: Through which I have to fight my own way…

Carolyn: I’m not sure thirty is a throng… A gathering, maybe.

Hester: Because no one is there to meet me, to help me from the taxi, to take my luggage, to show me
to the –

Carolyn: I’m so sorry, I had no idea! We’ll make arrangements immediately. Now may I ask the precise
nature of your disability?

Hester: What? I’m not disabled!

Carolyn: Oh! I’m sorry; I thought you said you couldn’t get out of a taxi without help.

Hester: Listen, have you even flown a flim star before?

Carolyn: We took Norman Pace to Farnborough. He’s a lovely man.

Hester: Well I am not Norman Pace.

Carolyn: I was beginning to suspect as much.

Hester: Listen to me, dearie. One more crack out of you, and the executive producer of this film will
cancel the contract and rebook me on a flight with a professional company.

Carolyn: I’m so sorry if I have in any way offended you. Nothing could be further from my intention.

Hester: That’s better. And another thing. Is that strange little red-faced man actually a qualified pilot? I
mean, am I safe to fly with him?

Carolyn: I can assure you that Captain Crieff is very nearly the best pilot in the company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin: And beside that, we have the artificial horizon.

Hester: Gosh, yes! What does it do?

Martin: Well, it just tells you if you’re flying level or… or… or… not level. And, if you’re not flying level,
you can correct it on the basis of that and fly more… more…

Douglas: Levelly?

Martin: Levelly!

Douglas: Lovely.

Martin: And these are the altimeters.

Hester: Really? They sound like a nice middle-class couple, don’t they?

[all laughing]

Martin: [stuttering] How do you mean?

Hester: You know, “Oh, do come in! Lovely to see you; now, have you met the Altimeters?”

Martin: [laughing] Oh! I see! Yes, that’s very good! [laughing] Yes, the Altimeters! Mrs and Mr
Altimeter. [lowering voice] “I’m – I’m – I’m Greg Altimeter, and this is my wife, Catherine Altimeter!”
[laughing, snorts]

Hester: Exactly, yes. Why do you need two?

Martin: Um, just in case one goes wrong.

Douglas: That’s the theory anyway. In practice, it’s like Confucius says: “Man with one altimeter always
know height; man with two, never certain.”

Hester: [laughing]

Martin: Oh, I know loads like that! [Chinese accent] “Confucius, he say…” Oh, they’ve, um, they’ve all
gone out of my head.

Hester: Well nevermind. I probably ought to go back now, actually. Thank you so much for showing me
around up here.

Martin: Right, yes, of course. Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it! Who knows, maybe you can show me
round a film set one day.

Hester: Maybe. Who knows?

Martin: Never eat yellow snow!

Hester: What?

Martin: Confucius, he – well, that’s not one of the best ones.

Hester: Okay.

[door opening and closing]

Martin: What a lovely woman.

Douglas: Oh, did you like her? You seemed rather cool and distant.

Martin: Oh no, did I, really?

Douglas: No.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur: Hello.

Hester: Oh, hello.

Arthur: Might I ask yourself at this time if yourself would care to partake of the enjoyment of the in-flight
entertainment system we do provide on the aircraft today?

Hester: What?

Arthur: Shall I put the telly on?

Hester: That’s sweet of you, but, I’m quite happy reading my book. Thank you.
Arthur: You’re welcome.

Hester: Is that all?

Arthur: Yes, that’s all. Except, I’m sorry about that thing when you met me and you thought I was a fan.

Hester: Oh, no, no, no, I should apologize to you. It’s just, those ridiculous Camelot idiots. They follow
all over the world, singing and changing and telling me they’re my biggest fans… It gets to one a little
sometimes, you know?

Arthur: Right, I see. Still, though, I just want to say, I am your biggest fan.

Hester: Oh really?

Arthur: Absolutely.

Hester: Enjoy my Clytemnestra, did you?

Arthur: Your Clyte…?

Hester: My career-defining Clytemnestra at Stratford? Or perhaps you preferred my Olivier award-

winning performance in A Doll’s House?

Arthur: You performed in a doll’s house?!

Hester: Or, perhaps you’re more of a movie buff.

Arthur: Yes, I just love –

Hester: No, don’t tell me, I’m keen to guess. A Light Shines Darkly? Tails You Lose? Fargle’s Bear?

Arthur: No, I love –

Hester: Because I hope you weren’t about to suggest that you’re my biggest fan based on two
miserable weeks I spent up to my bosom in pond weed filming some ridiculous fantasy dreck I only
agreed to because my little cat needed a dialysis machine!

Arthur: Right. No, I liked the other ones. Did your cat get better?

Hester: No, she died.

Arthur: Oh, dear. Still, you know what they say about cats?

Hester: What?

Arthur: They’ve got nine lives. So, maybe… she’s still alive?

Hester: Get out of my sight!

Arthur: Right-o!
Carolyn: [entering] Everything alright in here?

Arthur: I’m just getting out of a client’s sight.

Carolyn: So often the key to a happy flight.

Hester: Please explain to me what the hell is going on here.

Carolyn: Difficult book, is it?

Hester: Not the book! The fact that, having assured me I would have no more trouble from my weird
fans, you appear to have assigned me one as my steward!

Carolyn: I apologize, madam, but can I congratulate you on the hard-line manner in which you dealt
with the menace?

Hester: What?

Carolyn: Oh, it’s just that, so many people, faced with someone shyly telling them they liked their work,
would simply have smiled and said “Thank you,” but not you! You let the bastard have it with both
barrels! Well done you!

Hester: Listen, it’s not too late for me to walk out on you, you know.

Carolyn: That’s true, so long as you can phone your executive producer before we take off. May I just
remind you all electronic equipment must be switched off until after we take off?

Hester: I am the executive producer.

Carolyn: How can I make madam’s journey more comfortable?

Hester: That’s better. I want that Camelot freak kept out of my sight. You can do my stewardessing,
and you can start by bringing me a lemon tea.

Carolyn: Instantly, madam. [from behind the curtain] Arthur, put the kettle on and dig out those lemon
hand-wipes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur: Wow! This hotel’s amazing! Look, that whole wall’s a waterfall!

Martin: Well, don’t get too attached to it; the Garibaldi is pretty different. Though, to be fair, it does also
have water running down the walls.

Douglas: Ms Macaulay, may I present the Excelsior?

Hester: Oh, it’s lovely, Douglas! Thank you so much.

Receptionist: Bongiorno signore!

Martin: Oh, bongiorno. Um, do you speak English?

Receptionist: Of course, sir.

Martin: Good, great. Umm, uh, one room please.

Receptionist: Certainly. What name is it?

Martin: Mrs Hest –

Hester: Martin!

Martin: Yes?

Hester: I don’t use my real name. The fans, remember?

Martin: Oh yes, of course. What name do you use?

Hester: Oh, various ones. Often cartoon characters.

Arthur: Oh, wow! Did you nick that off Notting Hill?

Hester: They nicked it off me.

Martin: So, what name shall I use?

Hester: You choose?

Martin: Uh… yes. One room please, for Miss Jessica Rabbit.

Hester: Martin!

Martin: Oh, god! No! I mean, I didn’t mean you look like – not that you don’t look like – well, not that you
do, but… Um, not Jessica Rabbit… Mrs… Snoopy!

Hester: Why only one room? Where are you all staying?

Douglas: The Garibaldi.

Hester: Oh, no. No, you mustn’t stay there, it’s ghastly! They tried to put me up there when I did “Who
Do You Think You Are?”

Douglas: Oh, you have Italian relatives?

Hester: God, no. But when the BBC offer to fly you to wherever your family are from, you don’t
say Kidderminster. The Garibaldi is the most awful dive! I insisted they move me!

Douglas: Oh, dear. Well, Carolyn can’t have known that when she booked it for us, can she, Martin?

Martin: No.
Hester: If I were you, I’d just stay here. Oh, unless you have to…

Douglas: Captain?

Martin: No, no, we don’t have to! Good lord, no. Um… three more rooms, please.

Receptionist: Certainly, sir. What names?

Arthur: Oh! Oh! Can I be Goofy?

Martin: Douglas Richardson, Arthur Shappey, and Captain Martin Crieff.

Receptionist: Oh, you’re a capitan!

Martin: That’s right, I’m an airline captain.

Receptionist: So, did you want a suite?

Martin: What?

Receptionist: Well, generally when the air crews come, the capitan, he likes a suite.

Martin: Yes! Uh, the thing about that is –

Receptionist: No, sir, I ask because, I’m sorry, we have none left today.

Martin: Oh! Oh, well, well yes, I would have liked one, I mean obviously, I’m an airline captain, and
frankly this is very shoddy, I mean, I’ll rough it this once in one of your normal five-star rooms, but I’m
very disappointed.

Receptionist: Well, you could always state rooms?

Martin: What?

Receptionist: The state rooms, on the fifth floor. The whole of the fifth floor.

Hester: Yes, Martin! Why don’t you?!

Martin: Right! Yes, yes! I will! Yes! Yes!

Douglas: Nonchalantly done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin: [calling out to Hester] And, uh, anything else I can do, you have my number, so don’t hesitate to
call!

[elevator doors opening and closing]

Arthur: Wow, Skip! Five-star hotel, eh? This is the life!

Martin: No it’s not.

Arthur: Isn’t it?

Martin: No, we’re going straight back down to the lobby, refunding those rooms, and we’re going back to
the Garibaldi. I’m so sorry to disappoint you.

Arthur: No, it’s fine. I don’t like big hotel rooms anyway. Too many drawers.

Martin: Drawers?

Arthur: Yeah, cause, you know, you’ve gotta put something in every drawer, haven’t you? Or it doesn’t
feel like home. And sometimes, in these places, I have to split pairs of socks.

Martin: Ah, hello. I was here fifteen minutes ago, I –

Receptionist: I remember you!

Martin: Yes, I imagine you would do.

Receptionist: It’s very exciting for us, you know. We don’t often get to rent out the state rooms in the
winter.

Martin: No, I bet you don’t. The thing is, I, um, I’ve been up to have a look at the room – ah - the rooms,
and to be honest, they’re a little… stately.

Receptionist: They’re state rooms.

Martin: Yeah, yes, I appreciate that, but there comes a point, don’t you feel, when a state room crosses
the line from being a nice stately room for a statesman to lie in state and becomes, you know, just
terrifyingly huge and expensive. So, if you could possibly just refund me the –

Receptionist: Oooh…

Martin: I don’t like the way you said ‘oh;’ please tell me it’s a cultural thing and that’s just how you begin
the sentence, “Oh, don’t worry, sir, that’ll be no problemo at all.”

Receptionist: No, the problem is, uh, somebody just tried to rent the state rooms and we had to turn
him down.

Martin: Great, he can have it.

Receptionist: No, no, he’s gone now. Uh, we don’t know where…

Martin: What did he look like?

Receptionist: [stuttering] Uh, he was a big man with a big coat and a big beard.
Martin: Right, so in the eight minutes since I was last here, Brian Blessedstrolled in, tried to rent the
most expensive suite in the hotel, and then left disappointed for a destination unknown?

Receptionist: I didn’t get his name.

Arthur: Bluto?

Martin: Despite you just telling me you never get any bookings for it in the winter.

Receptionist: What can I say, we were lucky.

Martin: Yes, well, you make your own luck, don’t you? How about the other two rooms, the normal-
sized ones, can you refund those?

Receptionist: This maybe we can do.

[phone ringing]

Martin: Oh, for heaven’s sake! Arthur, go to Douglas’s room, 312, stop him unpacking, I’ll meet you
there. [answering phone] Hello?

Carolyn: Martin, my favorite aviator.

Martin: Oh, god, what’ve I done now?

Carolyn: Nothing, nothing, you simply find me in a rare good humor!

Martin: Certainly rare.

Carolyn: I’m in Italy on a sunny day, my flight home is not until midnight, the studio have coughed up the
money like lambs, and generally all is rosy. Unless you were about to tell me otherwise?

Martin: No, no! Everything here’s fine.

Carolyn: Excellent! Well, such a good mood am I in, I thought I would treat you three to dinner tonight.

Martin: Well, that’s very nice of you…

Carolyn: And not only that, but at the Excelsior!

Martin: Oh, no, no! The Garibaldi will be fine!

Carolyn: Oh, don’t be ridiculous, the Garibaldi is far from fine or you wouldn’t be staying there.

Martin: Actually, I had a look at the restaurant, they do a very nice Italian burger… thing. Looks good.

Carolyn: I don’t know what you’re playing at, Martin, but stop it. For reasons of my own, I particularly
want us to eat at the Excelsior this evening, so that is where I shall see you, 7:30 sharp!

[phone beeping]
Martin: Oh, terrific.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin: 310, 311, ah, 312.

[knocking]

[door opening]

Douglas: Ah, Martin, hello. No.

Martin: No what?

Douglas: No way, absolutely out of the question Jose.

Martin: You don’t know what I’m going to ask!

Douglas: Oh, but I do.

Arthur: Hello, Skipper. Don’t worry, I filled Douglas in.

Martin: Oh, well done.

Douglas: So if Arthur can be relied upon, which I concede is far from a given, you’re going to ask if, to
save your skin with Carolyn, I will leave this lovely five-star hotel room and go to the Garibaldi.

Martin: Yes.

Douglas: While you stay here in the five-star hotel state room suite. Well, obviously, I’ll have to think
long and hard about this one. No.

Martin: Douglas…

Douglas: Sorry, I like it here. I have two fluffy dressing gowns in case one of them goes wrong. And
there are complimentary mixed nuts, which is charming.

Martin: Well I’m sorry, but I’ve returned this room to the hotel, you can’t stay here.

Douglas: Fair enough, then you go to the Garibaldi and I’ll have the state rooms.

Martin: No, Douglas, I’m trying to tell you, you’re right.

Douglas: So glad we agree.

Martin: You’re right, you can’t trust anything Arthur tells you. Of course I’m not staying in the state
rooms. I got them refunded too.

Arthur: What, after I’d gone?

Martin: Yes, after you’d gone.

Arthur: Oh, well done, Skip! I must say, I’m surprised because that receptionist seemed pretty –

Martin: I’m very persuasive! So, all the rooms are refunded and we have no choice but to go to the
Garibaldi, okay?

Douglas: Spoilsport. Alright, give me ten minutes, I have things to pack.

Martin: You can’t have unpacked already.

Douglas: I didn’t say they were my things.

Martin: Don’t forget the mixed nuts.

Douglas: As if I would.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur: Gosh, it is different here, isn’t it? Are those real?

Douglas: No, no, they’re decorative stuffed cockroaches. See you at dinner then, chaps.

Martin: Bye. [to Arthur] Is he gone? Right… [to receptionist] Bongiorno, excuse me, I made a mistake, I
just want one room please. If we can return these two…? Thank you.

Arthur: What’s going on, Skip?

Martin: Alright, Arthur, listen really carefully.

Arthur: Oh dear, I hate these.

Martin: You and I aren’t staying here tonight; we’re staying in the Excelsior! In the state rooms!

Arthur: But I thought you managed to retu –

Martin: No, of course I didn’t return them! But, here’s the important thing.

[door opening, walking across street]

Martin: You mustn’t tell Douglas that we’re staying at the Excelsior. You mustn’t tell Hester we’re
staying at the Garibaldi, and above all, you must not tell Carolyn… anything at all, got that?

Arthur: No.

Martin: Okay, here we are. We might just be able to pull this off.

Crowd: [singing] King of the Britons, as it was written, so it shall beeee!

Martin: Arthur, you promised me you didn’t tell anyone where she was staying!
Arthur: I didn’t! Honestly, I didn’t!

Martin: You must have done! Oh, god, do you think she’s seen?

[phone ringing]

Martin: Hello?

Hester: What have you done?!

Arthur: [answering Martin] Yes, I do.

Martin: Ah, Hester! I was just –

Hester: Don’t Hester me, you ridiculous incompetent little man. Just explain to me how it is that – No
actually, don’t explain.

Martin: But –

Hester: I don’t want to hear any more of your stuttering and toadying, I just want you to make them all
GO AWAY!

Douglas: Well, she’s no Norman Pace, is she?

Martin: Douglas, what are you doing here?

Douglas: Oh, I saw you beetling off and I just had a hunch this might be an interesting place to come
and have a drink. The horde of knights is an unexpected bonus.

Martin: What am I gonna do?

Douglas: About what in particular?

Martin: About everything!

Douglas: Ah, everything in particular? Well, as I see it, your problems are a vastly expensive non-
refundable state room suite, a hotel lobby’s worth ofgormless fans, and a furious actress.

Martin: Yes!

Douglas: And your assets are a dozen black shirts.

Martin: What?

Douglas: Well, the answer’s obvious, surely.

Martin: Not to me.

Douglas: Ah, interesting, because it is to me. So, suppose I were to sort all this out for you and
suppose once it was sorted out there was still a nice Excelsior hotel room left over.
Martin: Yes, yes, you can have it!

Douglas: Excellent. [to crowd] Attention, oh spotty knights! I have a proposition for you. Am I right in
thinking that you are here lying in wait like grubby leopards for Hester Macaulay?

Crowd: Yes!

Douglas: Well, as the more astute or the least un-astute of you will have noticed, she’s not coming
down until you go away.

Fan 1: Well, we’re not going away until she comes down!

Douglas: What a delicious metaphysical conundrum. And one to which, luckily, I have the answer. I
can arrange for twelve of you to not only meet Ms Macaulay but to actually shake her hand after first
washing your own sixteen or seventeen times, on condition that the rest of you immediately go a really,
really long way away.

Fan 2: How do we pick which twelve?

Fan 3: Well, we could cut cards for it.

Douglas: Oh, come, come! What sort of opportunity does that give you to demonstrate your strange,
unsettling devotion?

Fan 4: You mean you want us to fight for it?

Douglas: No, no, no! I want you to bid for it! Do I hear, for instance, five hundred euros?

Crowd: [excited bidding]

Douglas: It seems I do.

[elevator dinging]

Douglas: After you, Ms Macaulay.

[doors closing]

Douglas: Ms Macaulay, on behalf of us all at MJN Air, allow me to say how sorry we are for all the
trouble and inconvenience you’ve suffered.

Hester: Well so you bloody well should be.

Douglas: Indeed we bloody well should be, and so we bloody well are. Firstly, let me assure you that
the medieval contingent have now been entirely vanquished. And furthermore, in recompense for your
suffering, I have been authorized to secure for you perhaps the most luxurious accommodation in Italy
not already bagsied by the Pope. Behold [elevator dings] your state rooms!
Hester: How did you time your speech so that it ended precisely on the ding?

Douglas: I rode up and down the lift a few times practicing.

Hester: Well, it’s a nice room.

Douglas: It is a nice room, and beyond lies an even nicer room, which leads into a frankly astonishing
room, and beyond that… an airing cupboard, which, I admit, is an anticlimax.

Hester: This is certainly more how I expect to be treated.

Douglas: Well of course it is. And not only that, but we have paid for the hotel to lay on a team of staff
who will be exclusively dedicated to looking after you during your stay. Allow me to introduce your butler.

Butler: [stammering excitedly]

Douglas: Sadly, none of them can speak any English.

Hester: Pleased to meet you.

Butler: [excited noises]

Douglas: Then this is your under-butler, your under-under-butler, and your under-butler-butler. And this
is your chef, your wine waiter, your pastry cook, and your… puddingsmith.

Hester: Pleased to meet you.

Puddingsmith: [awkwardly] Pleased to meet you…

Hester: Are you alright?

Douglas: That’s Cremonese dialect for “The pleasure’s ours.” Finally, your laundry man, your knife and
boots boy, the man whose job it is to fold the end of your loo roll into a v-shape, and your stable lad.

Hester: Why on earth would I want a stable lad?

Douglas: Don’t you? Umberto, you’re fired.

Umberto: Aww.

Hester: Isn’t there a maid of some sort?

Douglas: Oh, yes, of course! Umberto, you’re rehired.

Umberto: Woo-hoo!

Douglas: Now, all of you, get out.

[grumbling]
Hester: Curious uniform they have.

Douglas: Yes, I rather like it.

Hester: If I was an Italian hotel manager, I wouldn’t give my staff black shirts.

Douglas: Ah, but that’s the beauty of it. Gives them an exciting ninja look, don’t you feel?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Douglas: It’s perfectly simple. Hester stays in your state rooms, paid for by the proceeds of the
handshake auction. I stay in Hester’s old room here, you stay in my old room at the Garibaldi.

Arthur: And me?

Douglas: Also in my room at the Garibaldi.

Arthur: Brilliant! Bagsy I get the floor.

Martin: Why would you want the floor?

Arthur: Are you joking? I sleep in a bed every night! Oh, there’s mum!

Douglas: Carolyn? I thought she was flying home.

Martin: Not till tonight. She was very keen to take us for dinner here first; God knows why. Carolyn,
hello!

Carolyn: Martin, what is going on?

Martin: Nothing, nothing! Everything’s fine! Hester’s happy, the accommodation budget’s balanced…
everything is absolutely fine!

Carolyn: Where are all the fans?

Martin: Oh, you heard about that, did you? Yes, well, we did have a momentary glitch with some
enthusiasts, but don’t worry, we sent them all away.

Carolyn: You sent them away?! Why on earth did you send them away?! They were my revenge!

Martin: What?

Carolyn: Yes! Why else do you think I told them where she was staying?

Martin: You told them?

Carolyn: Of course I told them. As soon as the studio paid up. No one calls me dearie and gets away
with it. And then I specifically booked this table for us to survey the mayhem. Douglas, didn’t you
explain this to him?
Douglas: I…

Martin: Douglas explain it?!

Carolyn: Yes, it was his idea in the first place!

Martin: Douglas!

Douglas: Mixed nut?

[credits]

SEASON 1 – EPISODE 4: Douz

[bing bong]
Martin: Good afternoon, this is your captain speaking, just to say there is absolutely nothing to worry
about.

[bing bong]

Martin: Hello, Captain Crieff here again. Still no need to panic. I repeat, there is no need to panic. Or
to look out of the windows. Everything’s fine.

[bing bong]

Martin: Actually, I wasn’t being entirely straight with you just now. You see, it’s this damnable sleeping
sickness of mine. [yawning] Normally I control it with a mysterious stimulant from South America, but
blast it, my supply’s run out. I’m afraid our only hope now is if, by some chance, someone on board
knows how to prepare this stimulant and could…

Carolyn: Yes, we get the message. Arthur, take Martin his coffee.

[credits]

Arthur: Here you are, Skipper. Wow, is that the Sahara?!

Douglas: The vast, sandy thing on the ground? That’s the chap, yes.

Arthur: Wow! It’s brilliant!

Douglas: Always at hand with the mot juste, aren’t you, Arthur? Yes, the Sahara Desert is brilliant. Just
as the Niagara Falls were brilliant, the Northern Lights were brilliant, and that chap from RyanAir burping
the theme to The Muppets was really brilliant.

Arthur: Come on, that was brilliant! Wow, camels!

Douglas: And how would you describe them, in a word?

Arthur: Brilliant!
Douglas: Thought so.

Arthur: What are they all doing there?

Douglas: Filling up! Douz is the last town in Tunisia before the desert. It’s like a big camel petrol
station.

Martin: Ha! What would you know about petrol stations?

Douglas: I’ve seen them. I drive past them. Sometimes I stop for a Kit Kat.

Arthur: What, doesn’t your car need petrol, Douglas?

Martin: No, Douglas’s car does not need petrol.

Arthur: Wow! Well, maybe I should get one –

Douglas: Yes, Arthur, you keep lumbering on after the uptake. It’s sure to tire eventually. What Martin’s
getting at – and this isn’t for your mother’s ears – is, you know how we have to run off a couple of litres
of fuel before every trip to check for water droplets? Well, there’s nothing in the book to say where you
have to run it off to.

Martin: I think there’s a general understanding that they didn’t mean into the tank of the First
Officer’s Lexus.

Douglas: Then they should have said so; I’m not a mind reader!

Arthur: You can run a car on aviation fuel?

Douglas: Oh, yes! It’s a bit like giving a bunny rabbit cheetah food, but it doesn’t half make it go, as I
imagine it would do the bunny rabbit.

Douz Tower: Golf Tango India, good evening. You’re cleared to land at your discretion on 2-7. Wind is
200 at 25.

Douglas: Roger. [disconnecting] Ooh, breezy.

Martin: You still happy to take the landing, or shall I?

Douglas: Oh, I suspect I’ll muddle through, Martin. I was doing my log book the other day and I noticed
that this happens to be my 2000th landing.

Arthur: Oh, wow! Is that true? That’s amazing!

Douglas: Oh, not brilliant? I’m crushed.

Martin: No, it’s not true, Arthur. It’s just another transparent attempt to remind me what a mighty sky
god he is.
Douglas: Of course it’s true! Why would you doubt it?

Martin: Well, my suspicions were first aroused by the use of the phrase “I was doing my log book.” The
last time you did your log book, you could’ve had it signed off by Douglas Bader.

Douglas: Don’t listen to him, Arthur. Two thousand landings, precisely.

Arthur: Wow. And how many takeoffs?

Douglas: Oh, nothing like as many.

Arthur: Right.

Martin: Mmm, because of course takeoffs are cancelled all the time. Landings, almost never.

Douglas: That’s right.

Arthur: Oh yes, of course.

[beeping]

Martin: Oh, hang on, we’ve lost one of the hydro systems.

Douglas: Possibly. The thing about GERTI, though, bless her, is she is rather the aeroplane who cries
wolf. I particularly enjoyed her last ground proximity warning; the one when we were on the ground.

Martin: The contents have fallen to zero, standby pump two on, check pressure… Pressure’s falling; no,
we really have lost number one hydraulic system.

Douglas: Ooh, what fun!

Martin: Right, uh… right, right. Um, number one hydraulic system lost. Uh… no special procedures.
Note: lack of rudder will reduce max crosswind limit to 25 knots.

Douglas: Won’t it just?! Arthur, break the emergency glass, I require myBiggles hat.

Martin: Douglas, this is serious.

Douglas: Douz tower, this is Golf Tango India, we’ve lost our number one hydraulic system. No
operational effects, we continue to make our approach.

Tower: Roger that, Golf Tango India. We’ll have the fire truck on standby.

Douglas: You’re quite the little ray of sunshine, aren’t you, tower?

[bing bong]

Douglas: Hello, Carolyn. This is the pointy end. Just to let you know, I’ll be landing today without
number one hydro.
Carolyn: What?! Why?!

Douglas: Oh, I don’t know, just to see if I can! Alright everyone, hang on, we’re going in!

Martin: I have control.

Douglas: What?

Martin: I have control. I have control; control, I have it!

Douglas: Martin, you gave me this sector, and I’m well within my limits –

Martin: I know, I know, I’m sorry, but we can’t be too careful.

Douglas: Too careful?!

Martin: I have control.

Douglas: How do you mean too careful?!

Martin: Douglas, I have control!

Douglas: You have control.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin: And shut-down checks complete.

Douglas: Well done, Captain.

Carolyn: Good lord, Douglas. You made a right old meal of that, didn’t you?

Douglas: Not really.

Carolyn: What?! You did two go-arounds, then you finally slammed it onto the ground like you were
trying to wipe out the dinosaurs.

Douglas: Oh, I’m not denying a right old meal was made of it, but I was not thechef du jour. Captain
Crieff kindly took control.

Carolyn: What? Martin landed it?! With a hydro failure in a crosswind? Martin, you get flustered trying
to parallel park! Why on earth would you take control?

Martin: I’m the senior pilot on board, Carolyn.

Carolyn: Yes, but Douglas is the better pilot on board. You do see how better trumps senior, don’t you?

Martin: And for your information, a firm landing is generally the safest.

Carolyn: If that landing had been any safer, it would have killed us.
Douglas: You know what they say: a good landing’s any landing you can walk away from. A great
landing is one where they can reuse the plane.

Arthur: Mum, I was just taking a look outside, and, um, the company who sub-contracted to us, are they
called Panda Charters?

Carolyn: Yes, why?

Arthur: And they’re hiring us because they had a tech failure?

Carolyn: Yes, why?

Arthur: Look over there. Looks like quite a big tech failure.

Carolyn: Good lord.

Douglas: That is a very broken plane.

Arthur: Do they have hyenas in the Sahara?

Martin: Not big enough to attack 737s, but I take your point.

Carolyn: Well, let’s turn this round as quickly as possible. I’ll be back in an hour, and watch out for
anyone trying to steal our engines.

Douglas: Have no fear; Martin will be in control throughout.

[door opening]

Carolyn: [gasping]

Arthur: You alright, mum?

Carolyn: Gosh, it’s hot!

Douglas: Ah, Sahara not only brilliant, but hot! I see where Arthur gets his way with words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin: So they’re officially the national cricket team?

Douglas: Apparently, of Scotland.

Martin: Didn’t think Scots played cricket.

Douglas: It seems at least eleven of them do.

Martin: And the Scotland-Tunisia cricket match, is that a regular thing?

Douglas: A hotly contested Hiberno-African derby, I’ve no doubt.

[camera beeping, shutter clicking]

Martin: What are you doing now, Arthur?

Arthur: Oh, nothing. You two carry on. Act natural.

Douglas: Why are you taking our pictures?

Arthur: Mum’s reprinting our company brochure, and she says I can have a go at taking the picture for
the cover.

Douglas: Oh dear, does that mean we’re losing the current one?

Martin: The one with Carolyn strangling a customer?

Douglas: I always thought that summed up MJN Air rather well.

Arthur: She’s adjusting his pillow. But yeah, it does look a bit strangly.

[knocking, door opening]

Douglas: Hello?

Habib: Hello, Captain. Compliments of the airfield manager, and would you please be able to settle the
bill?

Martin: Yeah, actually, I’m the captain. Hello? The one in the captain’s seat, wearing the captain’s hat?

Habib: Sorry, Captain. Compliments of the –

Martin: Yes, alright, give it here. Yes, fine, fine. What’s this?

Habib: Fire truck.

Martin: Yes, I can read what it says. What does it mean?

[camera beeping, shutter clicking]

Douglas: Really, Arthur? The front page of MJN’s brochure: our gallant captain quibbles over a bill?

Martin: I’m not quibbling, Douglas. It says three hundred dollars here for a fire truck.

Habib: I don’t know, it’s not usual.

Douglas: Oh really? You know, Martin, these little airfields do rather try things on sometimes if they
suspect you’re not…

Martin: What, not what?

Douglas: Oh, nothing.

Habib: Would you like to speak to the airfield manager, sir?

Martin: Yes, yes I would. I’ll show him whether or not I’m… that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[knocking]

Juteau: Entrez. [door opening] Ah, you have.

Martin: Hello, are you the airfield manager?

Juteau: I am, yes. Yves Juteau at your service. You must be the captain.

Martin: No, actually, I’m the – Oh, yes. Martin Crieff.

Juteau: I’m delighted to meet you.

Martin: Are you French?

Juteau: Ah! My cover is blown. Originally, yes. You’re not the only ones who used to have an empire.
Now, will you take café?

Martin: No, I don’t want coffee.

Juteau: Oh, then coffee you shall not have. So, how can I help you?

Martin: It’s this bill.

Juteau: Yes?

Martin: Well firstly, you’re charging us for three hours on stand. We’ve only been here, what, one hour
fifty-four.

Juteau: I regret we charge per hour, or per part of per hour.

Martin: That’s still only two hours.

Juteau: You are expecting to leave within the next six minutes? You’d better, if I may attempt an idiom,
get your skates on. But yes, by all means, between friends, let us call it two.

Martin: Thank you. Now, this weather report. Eighty dollars?

Juteau: Yes?

Martin: It’s a very glossy folder.

Juteau: Thank you.

Martin: Containing one sheet of A4 printed off from Google weather maps.
Juteau: You would prefer two sheets?

Martin: Which says it’s going to be hot.

Juteau: It is going to be hot.

Martin: Do you really think that’s information worth eighty dollars?

Juteau: Without it you cannot take off, so I would say so. Anything else?

Martin: Yes, actually, fire truck.

Juteau: Yes?

Martin: What do you mean, fire truck?

Juteau: I can find no words that describe a fire truck better than fire truck.

Martin: But why are we paying for it?

Juteau: Because you called it up. You radioed you were landing with a hydraulics failure. We mobilized
the fire truck.

Martin: We don’t pay for that!

Juteau: Then who pays for that?

Martin: Nobody pays for that, it just happens!

Juteau: I don’t know what your fire trucks do, Captain, but our fire trucks do not just happen.

Martin: I suppose you think I’ll believe anything, do you?

Juteau: I am sure you will believe almost nothing. However, if you pass me the bill, I will send you an
amended one.

Martin: You’re taking off the fire truck?

Juteau: No, I’m taking off the third hour. The fire truck remains.

Martin: Right, well, I’ve made my point, anyway.

Juteau: You’ve made it. I have disagreed with it. I’m going to do nothing about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[cricketers singing]
Carolyn: Gentlemen, gentlemen! I don’t mind the singing, but if you could possibly all keep to the inside
of the minibus, that would be super. Thank you! [to pilot] They’re a very spirited bunch, aren’t they? I
was expecting the Scottish cricket team to have a certain dour quality.

Pilot: Well, you can’t blame them. They’re just delighted to be getting home. We all are. Really, on
behalf of my crew, I can’t thank you enough. We are so, so grateful.

Carolyn: Oh! Thank you, but really, really there’s no need.

Pilot: Oh but there is! I mean, we can’t get over it. It’s so public-spirited of you! So generous!

[bus stopping suddenly]

Carolyn: What? How do mean, generous? What’s generous?

Pilot: Well, to come and rescue us like this.

Carolyn: Well it’s my job, isn’t it? I mean, I’m getting paid.

Pilot: Oh really? Who by?

Carolyn: What? By your firm. Panda Charters.

Pilot: Um, no. I don’t think so. I mean, they went bust, you know. You did know that, didn’t you?

Carolyn: No, I did not. They omitted to mention it.

Pilot: That’s why we’re here. The airport manager wouldn’t let us leave without paying our bill.
Incidentally, don’t cross him, whatever you do. He’s a right bastard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[door opening]

Douglas: Ah, Martin. How did you get on?

Martin: Ah, yes, pretty well. They’re just sending out the new amended lowerbill now.

Douglas: Gosh, well done.

Martin: It’s nothing, really, just a matter of showing them who’s in control. He’s a nice enough fellow,
really he’s just one of those little men who’ve got a little job and so have to spend the whole time proving
they’re just as good as anyone else, you know the type.

Douglas: It rings a faint bell.

[door opening]

Carolyn: Right, come on then, let’s get out of this hell hole!
[camera beeping, shutter clicking]

Carolyn: ARTHUR WILL YOU PUT THAT DAMN THING AWAY BEFORE I MAKE YOU EAT IT?!

Arthur: Sorry, mum.

Douglas: Everything tickety-boo, Carolyn?

Carolyn: No, it’s not. We’re doing this whole damn trip for free! Panda Charters went bust! That’s why
their plane looks like that! The airfield manager stripped it of parts in lieu of payment.

Douglas: Goodness, that’s hardcore.

Habib: Excuse me, Monsieur Juteau’s compliments, and the revised bill.

Martin: Right. Ah-ha! Two hours! See, not so hardcore as all that. Not when stood up to.

Douglas: And the fire truck?

Martin: Doesn’t matter about the fire truck.

Carolyn: What about the fire truck?

Martin: Nothing, doesn’t matter. Right, do you have a card reader or…?

Douglas: What’s this? Safety infringement penalty, six hundred dollars?

Martin: What?!

Habib: Yes, the manager anticipated you might like to talk to him about that. He is on the radio.

[beeping]

Martin: Safety infringement? What safety infringement?

Juteau: Ah, good afternoon, Captain Crieff. I hope you are enjoying your free hour.

Martin: Never mind about that; what’s this about a safety infringement?

Juteau: Certainly there was a small one.

Martin: What? It wasn’t there on the last bill.

Juteau: Indeed not. But, when you did me the honor of visiting my office to complain about the last bill,
you crossed the apron, did you not?

Martin: Yes.

Juteau: And were you wearing the regulation yellow reflective safety vest?

Martin: I…
Juteau: Voilà.

Martin: But it’s a deserted airfield, in the middle of the day, in the Tunisian sunshine!

Juteau: Nevertheless, it is wise to be in good habits.

Martin: Well, we’re not paying for it.

Juteau: Ah! Then we have a problem.

Martin: Yes, we do.

Carolyn: No, we don’t.

Martin: Carolyn, I’m dealing with this! It’s under control!

Carolyn: Shut up, Martin. We’re already thousands of pounds down on this trip. All I want to do is get
home. Monsieur Juteau, hello! So sorry about the misunderstanding. Yes, of course we’ll pay the bill.

Juteau: Well, if you’ll just give your credit card to Habib there…

Martin: Well, well done, monsieur. It’s a good week for you, isn’t it? Bankrupted these guys, fleeced us,
I hope you feel really big now!

Juteau: These guys? The gentlemen from Panda Charter? They are with you?

Martin: Yes they are, poor sods, because you wrecked their business and pulled their plane to shreds!

Carolyn: Martin, that’s enough!

Martin: Hello? Are you listening to me?!

Juteau: I’m sorry, I was just… arranging something.

Carolyn: Hello? The payment’s gone through.

Juteau: Ah, excellent. Thank you. Regrettably, though, as you are carrying Panda Charter’s crew and
passengers, I must hold you responsible for their debts. I’m afraid you may not leave until they are paid
off.

Martin: Ah, now come on!

Carolyn: How much?

Juteau: Twelve thousand three hundred and six dollars. But let us call it twelve thousand.

Martin: Yes, well, nice try, but that’s entirely illegal.

Juteau: That’s debatable.

Martin: Unfortunately we don’t have time to debate it, must be off now, see you in court, maybe!

Juteau: Of course, what is not debatable, is whether it is illegal or not to take off without clearance from
air traffic control. It definitely is.

Martin: Who’s going to stop us?

Juteau: No one is going to stop you, but when you get home, your national authorities, whom I would
notify, would immediately suspend your operator’s license. Also, I was playing for time. I am going to
stop you, by parking the fire truck across your nose. Although, on the up side, this time I will not charge
you for mobilizing it.

[door opening]

Arthur: Chaps, I was just taking a look outside, and –

Martin, Douglas, and Carolyn: Yes, we know!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Passenger: Hey, hey pal!

Arthur: Uh, yes sir, how can myself be of assistance to yourself?

Passenger: Eh? When we gettin’ this thing moving?

Arthur: Ah, I do regret to inform yourselves that the delay that’s going on currently is still currently
ongoing. But we will keep you fully informed as to the development of any developments as they
develop.

Passenger: Eh?

Passenger 2: Well, how about breaking out the drinks trolley?

Passenger: Aye, nice one.

Arthur: Unfortunately, no drink service is scheduled at this time due to technical difficulties. We do
apologize for any inconvenience.

[passengers groaning]

Passenger: What technical difficulties stop you giving out drinks?

Arthur: Mum’s locked the cupboard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carolyn: Alright, I’ve had a look. As well as the fire truck, he’s put a tractor behind us and a baggage
truck on each side.

Douglas: Okay, so we can’t go backwards or sideways…

Martin: Explain to me how we were planning to go sideways.

Douglas: Alright, then, Captain, I’ll just sit back and watch you masterfully sort it out, shall I?

Carolyn: I don’t have time for your stupid squabbles. This is serious.

Martin: Yes, yes, you’re right. We can find a way out of this; the most important thing is to keep cool.
[air conditioning switching off] What was that?

Douglas: That was the air conditioning dying, Captain. But, carry on, you were just telling us about the
most important thing.

Martin: Why, why? I mean, why, why?!

Douglas: Four excellent questions. And the answer to all four is, because we’ve run out of fuel.

Martin: What? We can’t have done. I mean, we’ve just refueled.

[banging]

Passenger: [shouting] Hey! What’s happened to the air conditioning?

[beeping]

Carolyn: Monsieur Juteau?

Juteau: Good afternoon.

Carolyn: We seem to find ourselves a little light on fuel. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would
you?

Juteau: Yes, we have retrieved our fuel from your aircraft in lieu of payment.

Carolyn: Monsieur, without fuel, our air conditioning unit will not work.

Juteau: Oh, dear me. What an unintended consequence. May I suggest, then, that you work fast to
resolve the situation? The temperature is currently 35 degrees; that’s in the shade, not in a metal tube in
direct sunlight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin: Alright, alright, Carolyn, I’ve been looking at the chart; there’s an airstrip at Kebili, only about 20
miles away. If we could just get as far as there, we could refuel properly.
Carolyn: Well, that’s great, problem solved! All we need now is enough fuel to get there, our enemy to
give us takeoff clearance, and for that fire truck to disappear. Simple.

[passengers shouting]

Arthur: I’ll tell them, o – ow! The passengers have a few requests.

Carolyn: What?

Arthur: Um, well, more beer. They were very clear about that. Look, to make sure I remembered, they
wrote it on… me.

Martin: Yes, so they did.

Arthur: Yeah, so beer, definitely. Um, water some of them are keen on. Uh, and, an umpire.

Martin: An umpire?

Arthur: Yes.

Martin: Why do they need an –

[bat hitting ball, cheering]

Arthur: Ah, they’ve started without.

Carolyn: Alright!

Arthur: Mum! Mum, you can’t go in there.

Carolyn: Why not?

Arthur: They’re in their swimming trunks.

Carolyn: In their swimming trunks?

Arthur: Yes, it’s gotten really hot in there. And in here. I mean, it’s just hot generally. I think it’s
because we’re so near the Sahara Desert.

Carolyn: Yes, alright. Very well. Martin, you and Do – Where is Douglas anyway?

[bat hitting ball, glass breaking, shouting]

Douglas: Howzat?!

[bing bong]

Carolyn: Douglas, I wish to have a little word under the wing. Now!

[passengers ooohing]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Douglas: Carolyn, what can I do for you?

Carolyn: What are we going to do?

Douglas: I don’t know; what are we going to do?

Carolyn: No, seriously, what are we going to do?

Douglas: I really don’t know.

Carolyn: Of course you know!

Douglas: You’ve slightly lost me.

Carolyn: You always know; you’ve always got some sort of trick or loophole or you know someone who
knows someone. What is it this time?

Douglas: No, really, this time I’m stumped. But, don’t you worry, Martin’s in control. I’ll have no doubt
he’ll come up with something.

Carolyn: I thought so. This is all because Martin took the landing off you, isn’t it? So now you’re not
going to help.

Douglas: Martin needs no help from the humble likes of I. Martin is –

Carolyn: Oh, stop it! Just stop it, will you? I need you to get us out of this. This is serious!

Douglas: No, it isn’t! As it happens, I don’t even have the answer. I mean, the fire truck’s easy enough,
but not the rest of it. But in any case, we both know that if you really want to get away, you can.

Carolyn: How?

Douglas: By swallowing your pride and paying the man!

Carolyn: What with?

Douglas: With a little tiny bit of all your money.

Carolyn: I don’t have any money.

Douglas: Oh, don’t be ridiculous! I’ve seen your house; I’ve seen your car; I am currently standing
underneath your aeroplane.

Carolyn: I had money. Eight years ago, I had money, after the divorce. More money than I knew what to
do with. And, as you say, an aeroplane. More aeroplane than I knew what to do with. But, then I started
to run an air charter business. Now, I have three mortgages on the house. I have to keep the car
because I have to have something smart to pick clients up in, and I have to keep the plane because,
well, the minimum number of planes for a viable airline is one. But I don’t have any money. Why do you
think I’m always going on at you two for how much you spend? Do you think I enjoy it?

Douglas: Well, yes.

Carolyn: Yes, well, alright, I do a bit. But also, literally every trip we do has the potential to bankrupt the
company. And this one could bankrupt me.

Douglas: Gosh. I had no idea.

Carolyn: No, well.

Douglas: But, if you’ve been losing all this money, why have you kept on doing it all these years?

Carolyn: Because, I am the Chief Executive Officer of MJN Air. It’s a good thing to be. It’s better than…
[sighing] a little old lady.

Douglas: I see.

Carolyn: So, will you please return to the aircraft, put on the rest of your clothes, sit down nicely with
Martin, and think of something?

Douglas: Right you are.

Carolyn: Oh, and Douglas? Your solution to the fire truck? You’re not thinking set fire to the manager’s
office so it has to move, are you?

Douglas: I wasn’t, no, but I am now! Are you up for that?

Carolyn: No!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin: Douglas, that’s – that’s a terrific idea! Would it work?

Douglas: It worked when old GW and I did it with that snow plow inVancouver, but I don’t really see how
it helps us, I’m afraid. We still won’t have any fuel, and we still won’t have clearance for takeoff.

Arthur: Could we go and get fuel in jerry cans and bring it back here?

Douglas: If we had about eight years, yes.

Arthur: We can’t steal back the fuel he took off us…

Douglas: I’m sure he’s locked it away somewhere.

Martin: Besides, it no longer meets the quality criteria.

Douglas: Martin, that really doesn’t matter. I think we can give ourselves a license to bend the rules just
a tiny bit in this situation.

Martin: [laughing] Like you need an excuse. The man who hasn’t bought a gallon of petrol since – oh!

Douglas: What?

Martin: Well, just a thought. If you can feed a rabbit on a tiny bit of cheetah food, can you feed a
cheetah on lots of rabbit food?

Douglas: Oh, you mean –

Martin: What do you think?

Douglas: Yes, I like it!

Arthur: [conspiratorially] Yeah, that might just work.

Martin: What might?

Arthur: I don’t know. I just like talking like this.

Douglas: It’s a great idea, Martin, but it’ll only give us a couple of dozen litres at most. We couldn’t even
fly the twenty miles to Kebili on that, even if we had clearance.

Arthur: Could we just drive there?

Martin: No!

Arthur: Sorry, Skip.

Martin: Sorry, Arthur, I know you’re trying to help, but no, we can’t just taxi our plane out onto the main
road and drive it twenty miles to Kebili.

Douglas: Why can’t we?

Martin: What?

Douglas: The deserted main road, straight road, through the desert…

Martin: No, we couldn’t! Could we?

Douglas: Arthur, do you know what you are, in a word?

Arthur: [sadly] Yeah…

Douglas: Brilliant!

Arthur: [happily] Oh!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[door opening, passengers cheering]

Douglas: Alright, boys. Martin and I have done the sneaky bit, and I don’t think anyone saw. Now, the
less sneaky bit, which people will see. So it’s all about speed: we get out, we do it, we get back in.
Understand?

[passengers cheering]

Douglas: Are you ready?

[passengers shouting]

Douglas: Then, onwards, for England, Harry, and Saint George!

[passengers booing]

Douglas: Sorry, sorry, sorry. For Scotland, cricket, and Saint Wisden!

[passengers cheering]

Douglas: Places, places! Okay, remember, bend from the knees, not from the back, and three, two,
one, lift!

[passengers grunting]

Douglas: Yes, it’s coming, it’s coming! Yes! And carry, carry, bit more! Nearly there, nearly there! And,
drop!

[crashing]

Juteau: Hey! Hey!

Douglas: Back on the plane, back on the plane! Go, go, go, go!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin: Engine bleeds on, auxiliary power off…

Douglas: Martin, we don’t have time for the checks.

Juteau: [on radio] Golf Tango India, what do you think you’re doing?

Douglas: Hello there Douz tower, sorry about this. Love to stay, but we’ve just remembered a pressing
engagement.

Juteau: You cannot take off. You are forbidden from taking off!
Martin: Duly noted. I’m afraid your little fire truck was slightly in our way. Hope you don’t mind us
moving it.

Juteau: And how far do you think you’ll get with no fuel?

Carolyn: No fuel?

Martin: Whatever gave you that idea?

Carolyn: We’ve got fuel.

Juteau: How?

Martin: Let’s just say next time you want to starve an aircraft of fuel, don’t surround it with four petrol-
driven vehicles.

Juteau: You stole the petrol from my trucks?!

Douglas: As the voice recorder in this flight deck will forever record for posterity, absolutely not.
Wouldn’t it have been clever if we had, though?

Juteau: It doesn’t matter. You do not have clearance, repeat, do not have clearance to take off!

Douglas: Take off?

Martin: Who said anything about taking off?

Carolyn: Wouldn’t dream of it! Against the law, you know.

Douglas: Plus, we’ve nothing like enough fuel to get us there, in the air…

Martin: On the ground, though…

Carolyn: Taxiing down the long, straight, deserted highway to Kebili…

Douglas: We should be fine!

Martin: Right hand down a bit, number one, and be sure to indicate when joining the road.

Douglas: Right hand down a bit it is, Captain.

Juteau: You can’t take that on the road! It’s… it’s against the law!

Douglas: Is it? I’m not sure it is. What do you think, Carolyn?

Carolyn: It might be. Not very well up on the Tunisian Highway Code.

Douglas: Well, I’ll tell you what, Yves old chum, if you can get the Sahara Desert traffic police mobilized
in the next forty minutes or so, I suppose we’ll find out. Bye!
[beeping]

Martin: Do they drive on the left or the right in Tunisia?

Douglas: I think when they’re driving on an empty highway through the desert in an aeroplane, they
probably drive pretty much wherever the hell they like.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[passengers singing and cheering]

Douglas: Two miles to go, Martin.

Martin: Thank you, Douglas.

Douglas: Do you want me to drive for a bit, darling?

Martin: No thanks, dear. You know I get carsick in the passenger seat. Are they ready for us in Kebili?

Douglas: They are.

[door opening]

Martin: Arthur!

Arthur: [slurring] Today has been the most fun I’ve ever had in my life!

Douglas: Good! Arthur, is it possible you’ve had a little drink?

Arthur: I have had a little drink. Oh, and look, I think I found the photo for the brochure!

Douglas: Oh yes? Let’s see. Ah… Martin?

Martin: Hmm, striking.

Douglas: So, Arthur, in your quest to find the one image which perfectly sums up MJN Air and
everything it stands for, you’ve elected for a shot of twelve Scottish cricketers in the Sahara Desert
wearing swimsuits and carrying a fire engine.

Arthur: Yes.

Douglas: Hmm. The awful thing is, I sort of know what you mean.

[credits]

SEASON 1 – EPISODE 5: Edinburgh

[bing bong]
MARTIN: Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Apologies to those of you who have been
watching the in-flight entertainment this evening. Unfortunately a mechanical fault seems to have
developed and I’m afraid we will not be able to bring you the last half hour of our feature presentation.
However, as luck would have it, I happened to see this film a couple of days ago; and I’m happy to tell
you that the bald guy was in the pay of the mob all along; and that that woman from The West
Wing shot Bill Paxton, but they caught her in the end. I hope that helps.
[credits]
CAROLYN: And lastly, your roster for the next two weeks. On the eighteenth, you’re going to Oslo to
pick up a CFO …
ARTHUR: Wow! What, for government scientists to study?
CAROLYN: A CFO, Arthur, not UFO. Then nothing ’til the twenty-fourth when, I’m afraid, you’re taking
a stag do to Rome.
[Martin and Douglas groaning]
CAROLYN: Yes, I know, I know. They bring us three millennia of art, culture and architecture; we bring
them thirteen City boys to throw up on it. It is heart-breaking.
ARTHUR: Where did you go for your stag night, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Which one?
MARTIN: Any of them.
DOUGLAS: Oh, the first one was the best. Soho, 1977, with my brother, Jeffrey Bernard, Peter Cook,
and a Kink.
CAROLYN: What’s a kink?
DOUGLAS: One of The Kinks.
MARTIN: Which one?
DOUGLAS: Oh, I know nothing about pop music. Whichever one it is that can fit three golf balls in his
mouth.
MARTIN: Hmm!
CAROLYN: Anyway – after Rome, a little treat, because guess what’s happening on the twenty-eighth?
DOUGLAS: Ah! The Six Nations final!
ARTHUR: Birling Day!
CAROLYN: Indeed it is.
DOUGLAS: Yes!
MARTIN: What?
CAROLYN: Ah. Of course. You hadn’t joined us by last Birling Day, had you?
MARTIN: What’s Birling Day?
DOUGLAS: Mr. Birling is a retired gentleman who lives in an enormous house in Sussex with his
enormous pile of money and his enormous wife; and his big treat is that once a year, he hires us to take
him to the Six Nations rugby final, wherever it is … Where is it this year, Carolyn?
CAROLYN: Edinburgh.
DOUGLAS: … where he proceeds to get heroically sloshed and spends the rest of the year sleeping it
off.
MARTIN: … Right. So what’s so special about that?
DOUGLAS: Oh, no reason. It’s just fun – after a year of CFOs and stag dos – to take a nice old boy out
on a spree.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DOUGLAS: All right, Arthur, nearly there.

MARTIN: Why do we all have to pick him up, anyway?
DOUGLAS: It’s just a little courtesy Mr. Birling likes, that’s all.
MARTIN: I’ve never seen you like this with a client, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Ah, well, Mr. B is something special.
Mr. BIRLING: My dear boys! My dear boys! Cometh the hour, cometh the men; the magnificent men in
their flying machines, no less.
ARTHUR: Hello, Mr. Birling!
MR. BIRLING: Arthur, my dear boy! How are you? Now, I hope you’ve been brushing up on your rugby
since we last met.
ARTHUR: Oh yes! Ask me anything.
MR. BIRLING: Who won the last Grand Slam?
ARTHUR: France!
MR. BIRLING: What colour do Italy play in?
ARTHUR: Red.
MR. BIRLING: How many points for a conversion?
ARTHUR: Three.
MR. BIRLING: Excellent; very good.
ARTHUR: How many did I get right?
MR. BIRLING: Not a single one, but weren’t you quick?
ARTHUR: I was quick!
MR. BIRLING: Like lightning, dear boy, absolute lightning. And a new face, I see.
DOUGLAS: Mr. Birling, may I introduce Martin Crieff.
MR. BIRLING: Hello there, my little man. Now, ‘Crieff’, ‘Crieff’. Any relation to Jolyon Crieff?
MARTIN: I doubt it.
MR. BIRLING: Ah, but one never knows, one never knows.
MARTIN: One never does, but one can have a fairly strong hunch that no-one in one’s family has ever
been called Joly-on.
MR. BIRLING: Well, you’re quite right, of course. My chap was a Moncrieff – like Algernon.
[silence]
MR. BIRLING: In Earnest.
[silence]
MR. BIRLING: D’you know your Wilde, my boy?
MARTIN: I’m wild? In what sense?
MR. BIRLING: No, no, Oscar Wilde. Dear me, Douglas, you seem to have landed yourself a bit of
a chump.
MARTIN: I beg your pardon?!
MR. BIRLING: Oh, granted, my little man, granted. No doubt you’re a valued alumnus of the University
of Life … or possibly Exeter.
MARTIN: What?!
MR. BIRLING: Douglas, old man, I take it congratulations are in order – final return to the captain’s seat
of which you were such an ornament for so long.
DOUGLAS: No, no. Still in the … co-pilot’s seat. But… still terribly ornamental!
MR. BIRLING: Hmm. You don’t mean that … that this young man’s the captain?
MARTIN: Yes, that’s right. Does that concern you?
MR. BIRLING: Oh, not in the least. I’m all for youth opportunities. I was just thinking what, er, an awful
slap in the face it must be for Dougie here.
DOUGLAS: Oh, no, not really.
MR. BIRLING: Oh, but yes yes really. I mean, do you have to do everything he says?
DOUGLAS: Well …
MR. BIRLING: And Arthur, my boy, are you still going around with that delightful girl with a squint?
ARTHUR: Er, no.
MR. BIRLING: Did she say she couldn’t see you anymore?
ARTHUR: Yeah, she did.
MR. BIRLING: Yes. I have to admit I prepared that one in advance. I was dreading that you might still be
together so I couldn’t use it.
ARTHUR: Well, we’re not.
MR. BIRLING: Well, it wasn’t a big risk, I’ll admit. Just look at you.
MR. BIRLING: Right, that’s enough pleasantries, I think. Shall we go?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[door opening]
ARTHUR: … but now I’ve got a new way of remembering, because Ireland wear green, ’cause
shamrocks are green; Scotland wear blue, ’cause it’s cold in Scotland; England wear red ’cause the
flag’s red, white and blue.
DOUGLAS: England wear white.
ARTHUR: Oh yeah: England wear white ’cause the flag’s red, white and blue; France …
DOUGLAS: Yes, jolly good. Er, Martin, Mr. B’s all settled and I’ve got the weather for you.
MARTIN: Never mind the weather. What was all that?!
DOUGLAS: All what?
MARTIN: That astonishing display of synchronised sycophancy.
DOUGLAS: Oh, very good. Have you been working on that for a while?
MARTIN [sighing]: You said he was a nice old boy. He’s a horrible old boy.
ARTHUR: What, Mr. B? No!
DOUGLAS: It’s just his way, Martin – a little harmless joshing.
MARTIN: He called you a failed criminal, and Arthur a repulsive half-wit.
ARTHUR: And you …
MARTIN: I know what he called me. Now how is that ‘harmless joshing’?
DOUGLAS: Well, I think for someone from his background, it’s …
MARTIN [sighing]: Oh, I see. I know what this is. It doesn’t matter how nasty he is, so long as he went to
a jolly good public school, like you two.
DOUGLAS: Oh, now, that’s not fair at all! Arthur went to a ghastly public school.
ARTHUR: It’s true, I did. I mean, once, I was top in my year. Me!
MARTIN: Well, for the duration of the trip, can we all please try to have a little professional dignity and
not go all gooey just because a man in an embroidered waistcoat calls us ‘dear boys’?
DOUGLAS: He didn’t call you a ‘dear boy’; he called you a ‘little man’.
ARTHUR: Martin, you don’t understand, though …
DOUGLAS [interrupting]: He understands perfectly, Arthur.
MARTIN: Hang on. Hang on. I know that tone of voice. What are you trying to stop Arthur from telling
me?
DOUGLAS: I wouldn’t dream of trying …
MARTIN: Arthur?
ARTHUR: Well, I was just gonna say: what about the tips?!
MARTIN: Ohhhh, I see.
DOUGLAS: Now, look …
MARTIN: Now it begins to make sense. Big tipper, is he? How nice! So he can treat you how he likes, so
long as he pays you off at the end of it. How very dignified.
DOUGLAS: It’s not like that …
MARTIN: How much does he give you, then? Go on.
DOUGLAS: It’s not … it’s not a question of how mu…
MARTIN: Come on!
DOUGLAS: Well, if you must know, last year he gave us five hundred pounds each.
MARTIN: … Oh. Very nice.
ARTHUR: Yeah, but that was unusual …
DOUGLAS: True. That was because England won. We can’t expect that to happen this year.
ARTHUR: Oh. Aren’t England good any more?
DOUGLAS: Not good enough to win a match between Wales and France, certainly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
MARTIN: All right, let’s get …
[door opening]
MARTIN: Oh, hello.
DOUGLAS: Carolyn! A flight deck visit. What a nice surprise.
CAROLYN: Really? Is it really such a surprise to see me on Birling Day?
DOUGLAS: Perhaps not.
CAROLYN: Perhaps indeed not. Open your flight bag.
DOUGLAS: If you insist.

MARTIN: What’s going on?

DOUGLAS: It’s a Birling Day tradition: a little contest Carolyn and I have, and that I win.
CAROLYN: It’s not a ‘tradition’ or a ‘contest’: it is systematic theft. You see, Martin, Mr. Birling is partial to
twenty-five year old Talisker single malt whiskey.
DOUGLAS: As am I.
CAROLYN: As is Douglas – the difference being, of course, that Mr. Birling is a paying and valued
customer, whilst Douglas is merely a sneaky thieving pilot.
MARTIN: You drink his whiskey on the trip?!
DOUGLAS: No, of course not! I steal his whiskey on the trip, and drink it later.
CAROLYN: Well, not this time. Philip! Arthur! Come in here!
[door opening]
CAROLYN: You know Philip from the fire crew, don’t you?
DOUGLAS: Course. Good morning, Philip.
PHILIP: Hello, Mr. Richardson.
CAROLYN: Good. Philip, frisk him, properly.
PHILIP: Sorry about this, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Quite all right.
PHILIP: Er, what am I looking for?
CAROLYN: Tubes, reservoirs, bottles strapped to his legs; anything that can hold liquid. Now, let’s see
what we have in your flight bag. Hip flask – an obvious decoy. Still … Ah. Water. Thought so. A shampoo
bottle … for coloured hair. Surely you’re not tinting, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Oh! Does ‘coloured’ mean ‘dyed’? I thought it just meant ‘full of colour’.
CAROLYN: Yes, of course you did. Well, that seems to be shampoo… and, what’s this? Nail varnish?
MARTIN: Nail varnish?!
DOUGLAS: Well, go on, sniff it. It is nail varnish.
CAROLYN: Yes. Yes, it is. What do you want nail varnish for?
DOUGLAS: If you must know, I find it prevents cracking and splitting.
MARTIN: Well! I had no idea you were such a pretty pilot, Douglas!
DOUGLAS: Anyway, are you satisfied, Carolyn?
CAROLYN: For now, yes; but let me tell you this, Fingers: on your return, Philip here will be once more
frisking you with digits dexterous with practice – and I shall be going through your flight bag with the very
finest of tooth combs. And if any of these things have magically transformed from water, shampoo and
… nail varnish …
[Martin giggling]
CAROLYN: … into twenty-five year old Scotch, I shall know about it. Now then, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Yes, Mum!
CAROLYN: I have here thirteen little miniature bottles of Talisker. Guard them with your life. When it’s
time to give Mr. Birling another whiskey, you take one of these and a fresh glass, you open it in front of
him, listening for the crack of the seal breaking, like so. And you pour it out for him with one hand.
ARTHUR: Why only one hand?
CAROLYN: Because with the other hand you will be most likely fighting off theYogi Bear of the drinks
trolley, First Officer Richardson. Here they are …
CAROLYN: … Oh. Except you can’t give him this one. The seal’s been broken. Would, er, anybody like
to try it? Oh! What am I thinking? You’re all about to go on duty. What a terrible shame. Oh, well, cheers.
[pause] Oh! That is terribly good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[bing bong]
ARTHUR: Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to … well, gentlemen … well, gentleman … well,
Mr. Birling. Hello, Mr. Birling!
MR. BIRLING: Hello, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Ooh, hello! Er, anyway, welcome aboard. Erm, the captain has now at this time disilluminated
the seat belt sign …
MR. BIRLING: Yes, I saw.
ARTHUR: … er, right, so you can, if you wish, avail yourself of the opportunity to disengage your
seatbelt at this moment in time.
MR. BIRLING: Never did it up in the first place. I’m not a girl.
ARTHUR: … Right. [laughing] Actually, I like doing it like this. It’s-it’s more like a chat, isn’t it?
MR. BIRLING: It is – the snag being, of course, that the last thing I want from you is a chat, whereas
the first thing I want is another whiskey.
ARTHUR: Ah. Right-o!

MR. BIRLING: Mmm! Yum-yum. Mmm.

ARTHUR: Mr. B? What did you mean before when you said you weren’t surprised about Fliss and me
breaking up?
MR. BIRLING: Well, she was from a good family, wasn’t she?
ARTHUR: I liked them.
MR. BIRLING: There you are, then. Even if she didn’t get fed up with you – which frankly she surely did
– doubtless her people put their foot down.
ARTHUR: Why?
MR. BIRLING: Well, for a start, you’re twenty-eight, you have a ridiculous job and you still live with your
mother.
ARTHUR: Well, yeah, but not in the, “Ooh, still lives with his mother” way people are thinking when they
laugh about it. I … I just live with her because we get on really well, like friends, so why pay rent?
MR. BIRLING: That is precisely what people are thinking when they laugh about it.
ARTHUR: So … you don’t think anyone will want to be with me?
MR. BIRLING: Well, Arthur, what it really boils down to is: I’m bored of talking about this. Now, when do I
get to visit the flight deck?
ARTHUR: I’ll-I’ll go and see.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MARTIN (into radio): Lundy, good afternoon. This is Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, maintaining flight
level two-five-zero, direct Pole Hill.
LUNDY ATC: Roger, Golf Tango India, maintain two-five-zero …
[door opening]
ARTHUR: Hello. Would you like your coffee yet?
MARTIN: Arthur? What’s the matter?
ARTHUR (sighing): Nothing. I just wondered if you wanted your coffee.
DOUGLAS: And the thought reminded you of your cousin Vladimir who died in a coffee mine?
ARTHUR (sadly): No, I’m fine. I’ll go and get it. Oh, and Mr. Birling was wondering if he can come up to
the flight deck yet.
DOUGLAS: Of course, of course! Send the old boy up.
MARTIN: What? No! of course not! What’s got into you both? You know the law!
ARTHUR: Yeah, but it’s Mr. Birling! He always visits.
MARTIN: Oh, I see. I wasn’t aware that the Air Navigation Order finished, quote, “… unless, of course,
he went to the right school and is liable to tip you half a grand at the end of the flight,” unquote.
ARTHUR: Ah, but that was only because England won.
MARTIN: Fine – a hundred quid. So much the more reason not to disregard …
[door opening]
MARTIN: What the …?
MR. BIRLING: Hello! I got bored waiting, so I thought what I’d do is just assume it would be fine.
MARTIN: Well… I-I-I’m sorry, sir, but it’s not. CAA regulations and the UK law forbid any non crew
member on the flight deck during the flight.
MR. BIRLING: Oh, nonsense. Sort this out, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Erm, I’m very sorry, Mr. Birling. If the captain insists, there’s nothing I can do.
MR. BIRLING: Oh dear. I was right. It is humiliating. You must feel totally emasculated. Ooh!
MARTIN: Sir, will you please return to your seat?
MR. BIRLING: All right, all right. You mustn’t expect much of a tip from me, though, I’m afraid.
DOUGLAS: Er, can I just emphasise: this is entirely the captain’s decision.
MR. BIRLING: Yes, yes, I get the point, though the fact remains, Dougie: I’m not enjoying myself. What
shall we do about that?
DOUGLAS: Well … Now, how about if I came back with you, show you the flight plan, the charts, the
weather maps?
MR. BIRLING: Ah, yes. That might help.
MARTIN: Or just get on your hands and knees and let him use you as a footstool.
MR. BIRLING: Oh, and bring your hat. I like wearing your hat – though it’s not as good as your captain’s
hat. Well, I need hardly tell you that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
MARTIN: All right. Thank you. [hanging up phone] I do apologise, sir, but they assure me the limo is on
its way and will be with us momentarily.
MR. BIRLING: Well, I don’t suppose it would be here ‘momentarily’.
MARTIN: I’m sure it will, sir.
MR. BIRLING: No, I mean it’s not going to wink into existence beside us for a moment and then
disappear, is it?
MARTIN [sighing]: No. No it’s not.
MR. BIRLING: And yet, curiously, if it did we would still be one up on our current situation.
MARTIN: As I say, sir, I apologise.
MR. BIRLING: Is that it?
MARTIN: Yes.
MR. BIRLING: Captain, the other two have explained to you, I hope, that I’m rather a generous tipper.
MARTIN: They did mention it, yes.
MR. BIRLING: Hmm. … but that the level of my tips depends entirely on the quality of the, um … well,
I was going to say ‘customer service’ but let’s be straight with one another … the toadying I receive.
MARTIN [sighing]: I gathered that, but I’m afraid, sir, that I like to think of myself as not quite so easily
bought.
[car pulling up]
MR. BIRLING: Ah, well, I see, I see. Then I shall see you after the match. Oh, and for the avoidance of
doubt, it occurs to me that in a fairytale I would be so impressed by your failure to be bought, I would at
the end of the trip give you an even bigger tip than anyone else. What you should know about me,
though, is that I like being toadied to, and I pay people to do it, so you won’t be getting a sausage!
Cheerio!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[phone ringing]
ARTHUR [sadly]: Hello; Arthur Shappey.
CAROLYN: Hello, witless, it’s your mother.
ARTHUR: Oh, hello, Mum. How are you?
CAROLYN: Too busy to tell you. How is it going? Did you get there on time? Is Mr. Birling happy?
ARTHUR [sadly]: Yeah, it’s all fine. Martin’s showing Mr. B to his limo; Douglas and I are gonna watch
the match in the plane; Mr. Birling says I’ll never find another girlfriend.
CAROLYN: Oh. Well, Mr. Birling – the seventy-something retiree from Sussex – is, of course, one of the
country’s foremost relationship experts …
ARTHUR [anguished]: Oh, no, is he? I didn’t even know that!
CAROLYN: … but what he doesn’t know that we know is the peculiar and unaccountable pull you have
over bossy, Pony Club types with Alice bands and stupid names.
ARTHUR: Yeah, I do have that, don’t I? Like Minty … and Libbit … and Pobs!
CAROLYN: Oh, no, please don’t list them. Sounds like you’re brainstorming names for a Labrador
puppy. Look, where are you, anyway? You sound as if you’re in a wind tunnel.
ARTHUR: Oh, I just, er, popped onto the roof of the plane.
CAROLYN: The roof?! What the hell are you doing up there?!
ARTHUR: Well, the picture on the rugby went all funny, so Douglas said I should shin up onto the roof
and twiddle the aerial … only now I’m here, I can’t seem to find it.
CAROLYN: Ohh, you idiot boy! This is “Go and water the window boxes” all over again, isn’t it?
ARTHUR: Ohhh!
CAROLYN: Yes, “Ohhh!” Douglas is just trying to make a fool of you … though one would have
thought all the fish in that particular barrel had been shot long ago. Get down immediately, and make
sure you don’t break any of those miniatures.
ARTHUR: The miniatures…? [trailing off]
CAROLYN [angrily]: What? Arthur – do not tell me that you left Douglas with the miniatures.
ARTHUR: No, no! No, I’ve got them here with me. It’s all fine.
CAROLYN: Then why did you start to say “the miniatures,” then?
ARTHUR: I-I didn’t.
CAROLYN: You did. I heard you.
ARTHUR: No! I was just … singing to myself.
CAROLYN: Singing? What were you singing?
ARTHUR: … (singing to the tune of ‘Hey, Big Spender’) The minute yer … walked through the door …
boom boom
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[door opening]
DOUGLAS: Oh, well done, Arthur, you did the trick. Look.
ARTHUR: I didn’t find the aerial.
DOUGLAS: Oh? Well, you must have knocked it by accident or something.
ARTHUR: I don’t even think there is an aerial up there.
DOUGLAS: Oh, all right. You got me. It was a bit of a joke. Still, nice to get some fresh air and exercise,
eh?
ARTHUR: Douglas, Mum was just wondering: while I was up there, you didn’t steal the posh whiskey,
did you?
DOUGLAS: Arthur! Would I do a thing like that?
ARTHUR: You’ve done it on every single Birling Day so far.
DOUGLAS: Well, not this one. Your mother’s been too clever for me. Go and check.

ARTHUR: Well, they’re all still here.

DOUGLAS: Exactly.
ARTHUR: And they’re full. But maybe you’ve swapped them for tea or something.
DOUGLAS: Well, even if I did, how would I get it off the plane? But if you’re worried, see if the seal’s
broken.
ARTHUR: How?
DOUGLAS: Pick one at random.
ARTHUR: Right.
DOUGLAS: And open it up.
DOUGLAS: There you are. Still virgo intacta. Well, not any more, of course. You can’t serve him that
one. Shall I take it off your hands?
ARTHUR: No!
DOUGLAS: Fine. Be like that. Now, come on: Wales are five points up.
ARTHUR: Great!
COMMENTATOR: And Gethin Jenkins picks it up – he runs! He scores!
DOUGLAS and ARTHUR: Yeah!
[door opening]
MARTIN: God. He is insufferable.
DOUGLAS: What, old Mr. B? No, he’s a nice old boy really.
MARTIN: Douglas, I’m really surprised at you. I didn’t think it was your style to roll over and grovel just
for a big tip.
DOUGLAS: We can’t all have your high moral standards, Martin. Yes!! Nice kicking, Cymru!
MARTIN: Why are you cheering for Wales? You hate Wales!
DOUGLAS: Oh, now, I wouldn’t say that.
MARTIN: You say that every time we fly to Cardiff – often to the handling staff! I dread to think what they
do to our cases.
DOUGLAS: No, no! All one union, aren’t we? Gotta support anyone against the French.
ARTHUR: That’s not why I’m supporting them.
DOUGLAS: Martin doesn’t want to hear why …
MARTIN: Yes I do. Why, Arthur?
ARTHUR: Well, imagine the size of the tip Mr. Birling’ll give us if his side win.
MARTIN: But … England aren’t playing.
ARTHUR: No. But Mr. Birling’s Welsh.
MARTIN: He’s not Welsh! How can he be Welsh?! He’s English! He sounds more English than the
Queen!
ARTHUR: Posh Welsh. They sound like us. Still Welsh, though. He hates England. That’s why he gave
us such measly tips last year.
MARTIN: ‘Measly’?
ARTHUR: Yeah, I told you! Last time we only got five hundred quid, because England beat Wales. The
time before that, we got six grand! And Wales weren’t even playing that time!
MARTIN: W… ho… Why didn’t you tell me?
DOUGLAS: You made it clear where you stood on the matter, Captain. To be honest, I was shamed into
silence by your rectitude. “His dignity is beyond price,” I thought to myself, “and far be it for me to …”
MARTIN: Yes, all right!
ARTHUR: And imagine what we’ll get if Wales actually win!
DOUGLAS: Oh, here we go!
COMMENTATOR: The whistle blows, and Wales are Triple Crown champions!
DOUGLAS, ARTHUR and MARTIN (simultaneously): Yes!!
COMMENTATOR: Two tries in the second half …
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Mr. Birling singing to the tune of ‘Cwm Rhondda’]
MR. BIRLING: Bread of heaven, bread of heaven, yum yum-yum-yum-yum-yum-yum! Bread of hea-
ven, here I come!
MARTIN: Congratulations, sir. Marvellously played.
MR. BIRLING: Ah, if it isn’t little Captain “No-Tips-Please-We’re-British.”
MARTIN: Ah, well, yes, since you mentioned that, um …
MR. BIRLING: You know, there’s a little … very little, tiny, really … part of me that admires you, my boy.
I mean, obviously, I don’t admire your manner or your job or your appearance, or anything about you at
all and … I seem to have lost the thread of my remarks.
MARTIN: You were just saying you admire me, sir.
MR. BIRLING: I very much doubt that.
MARTIN: No, you were, a-about the tips. But the thing is …
MR. BIRLING: Ah yes, that’s right. You don’t want a tip. The Land of my Fathers has won the Triple
Crown, I’m all set to give off money like a … like a money-geyser, and yet you won’t toady. That’s almost
enough to make me admire you, if you weren’t so obviously an odious little tick.
MARTIN: Thank you, sir. Erm, but about the toadying: I’ve had a slight change of heart.
MR. BIRLING: Oh, I see! You want in on the tips after all.
MARTIN: Yes please.
MR. BIRLING: Well then, you, my boy, have much ground to make up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[door opening]
DOUGLAS: Oh, hello, Mr. Birling. This is a pleasant surprise.
MR. BIRLING: What-ho, Dougie. Little Captain Thing here invited me up to the flight deck for take-off.
DOUGLAS: Did he now?! Good for Captain Thing!
MARTIN: So if you’d like to take a seat here, sir. I’ll get you some headphones.
MR. BIRLING: I’d rather sit here.
MARTIN: Much as I’d like to help you, Mr. Birling, you probably can’t sit in the captain’s seat.
MR. BIRLING: Oh dear.
MARTIN: But if there’s anything else I can …
MR. BIRLING: You can let me make the man say, “Pull up, pull up.”
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: Mr. Birling has a particular fondness for the Ground Proximity warning.
MARTIN: Oh! Right! Well … yes. If you’d like to press this …
[beeping]
GROUND PROXIMITY WARNING: Pull up. Pull up.
MR. BIRLING: Ha-ha! Splendid!
GROUND PROXIMITY WARNING: Pull up. Pull up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DOUGLAS: Post take-off checks complete, Captain.

MR. BIRLING: Did you see the match, Dougie-boy?
DOUGLAS: I did indeed, sir. A famous victory. Jenkins did you proud.
MR. BIRLING: Didn’t he just? I support Wales, Marty. Did I tell you?
MARTIN: Er, no, as it happens, you didn’t.
MR. BIRLING: Who do you support?
MARTIN: … Wales.
MR. BIRLING: Really? Where were you born?
MARTIN [slowly]: … Wokingham.
MR. BIRLING: Well, then, where’s your national pride, you reptile?
MARTIN: Of course, you’re right. [laughing] Should support England.
MR. BIRLING: No! Trick question. Ten out of ten for toadying effort; none out of ten for toadying
technique. I detest anyone who supports England. Your people have oppressed my people for centuries.
MARTIN: Yes. I’m so sorry about that.
MR. BIRLING: All right, I’m bored now. Take me back to my seat.
DOUGLAS: Oh, I’ll do that, Mr. Birling …
MARTIN: No, I’ll do that, thank you, Douglas. And if there’s anything else I can do for you …
MR. BIRLING: Ah, well, funny you should say that while we’re in the galley. I think you should know that
the more I drink, the more generous I get.
MARTIN: I’ll send Arthur to bring your miniatures straight away.
MR. BIRLING: Yes. The thing about those miniatures is, they’re rather miniature, wouldn’t you say?
When you’re celebrating a great big win, you rather want a great big whiskey!
MARTIN: Ah, well. Let’s see what we have in the cupboard.
MARTIN: Um …well, this is what we give the stag parties. Um, McHamish’s Special Tartan Reserve. I’m
not sure it’s quite the quality you’re used to.
MR. BIRLING: That will do nicely, my boy. The time for quality has passed. Quantity is the watchword
now! And excellent toadying work, incidentally – you’re a natural. Oh, and give me that as well.
MARTIN: Of course, sir.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DOUGLAS: Post landing checks complete.

MARTIN: Thank you, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Incidentally, Martin, where’s your hat?
MARTIN: It’s in the cabin.
DOUGLAS: What’s it doing there?
MARTIN: It’s not doing anything. It’s a hat.
DOUGLAS: You see, I think it is doing something. I think it is adorning the head and loosening the
pockets of a man who …
MARTIN: Yes, all right.
[door opening]
DOUGLAS: Ah, Arthur. How is the Pride of Carmarthen?
ARTHUR: Uhh, sleepy. If I had to describe him in one word, that-that is the one I’d choose. Really very
sleepy. He didn’t even wake up for my pre-landing safety announcement, and that’s impressive, because
I did the version with the screams.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
MR. BIRLING [singing, slurring]: If ten green bottles hangin’-on-a-wall. Ten green bottles hangin’-on-a-
wall. And if ten green bottles … hangin’-on-a-wall, there are ten green bottles hangin’-on-a-wall.
ARTHUR: Hello, Mr. B. Uh, we’ve landed.
MR. BIRLING [slurring]: D’you like my song?
DOUGLAS: Indeed we do, but …
MR. BIRLING: It concerns… bottles.
ARTHUR: Yes.
MR. BIRLING: I don’t seem to be making much headway with it at all.
DOUGLAS: Well, don’t you worry about that. The important thing is, we’ve arrived.
MR. BIRLING: Mmmm.
MARTIN: Yes, the journey is over.
ARTHUR: Mum’ll be here any moment to pick you up!
DOUGLAS: So … if there was any last little thing you were …
MR. BIRLING: I might have a little sleep.
MARTIN: No!
MR. BIRLING: Good night.
[bottle dropping to the ground]
DOUGLAS: Oh no! Arthur! How on earth did he get hold of this?!
ARTHUR: I don’t – I don’t know, Douglas! Honest! I didn’t give it to him! A-and I swear I kept the
cupboard locked.
MARTIN: What-what-what? What’s the matter?
DOUGLAS: Well, use your eyes, Martin! He’s got hold of a half litre bottle! Arthur, what were you
thinking of?!
ARTHUR: It really, really wasn’t me! I’m not completely stupid!
MARTIN: … Well … it wouldn’t be that stupid, would it? I mean, if … We wanted him drunk, didn’t we?
DOUGLAS: Oh Martin. You didn’t?
ARTHUR: Oh, Skipper.
MARTIN: He asked me to! He said the drunker he got, the more generous he tipped.
DOUGLAS: Yes, up to a point, after which the drunker he gets, the more catatonic he gets.
ARTHUR: That’s why he’s on the miniatures, Skip, so we can – you know – regulate the flow.
[knocking]
CAROLYN: Hello! Are you ready to go?
DOUGLAS: Mr. Birling? Wake up!
MARTIN: Please, wake up!
ARTHUR: Come on, Mr. B! Rise and shine!
CAROLYN: Good evening, Mr. Birling. I trust you had a pleasant … Oh, good lord. He’s outdone himself
this time.
DOUGLAS: Yes, with a little help from his friends.
CAROLYN: All right. Well, Philip – do you think you can carry him?
PHILIP: Reckon so.
CAROLYN: Good! Then you escort Mr. Birling to his limo, and then return straight here for a lively game
of Search the First Officer for Stolen Whiskey.
PHILIP: Okay.
MARTIN: Bye then, Mr. Birling.
DOUGLAS: Any last thing you want to say to us before you go?
ARTHUR: Anything at all?
MR. BIRLING [singing drunkenly]: …hangin’-on-a-wall.
MARTIN: Right. Thanks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ARTHUR: Hey. Maybe when he sobers up, he’ll remember he hasn’t tipped us and send us something in
the post.
DOUGLAS: Yes, maybe! Or maybe he’ll just get the tooth fairy to pop it under our pillows for him on her
rounds.
ARTHUR: I know what will cheer us up. You didn’t manage to get any of that Talisker off the plane, did
you, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: No, as it happens I didn’t.
ARTHUR: No, well … I did.
DOUGLAS: What?
ARTHUR: Yeah. I mean, not lots or anything – just … you remember that miniature you made me open,
Douglas, that I couldn’t serve to Mr. Birling? Well, I’ve still got it!
MARTIN: Oh, good work, Arthur! Well played!
ARTHUR: Who wants a swig?
MARTIN: Er, yes please! [swallowing] That’s horrible!
ARTHUR: What?
DOUGLAS: Well, it would be. I stole all the Talisker while you were on the roof.
ARTHUR: But you-you can’t have done! They were all still sealed when I came down! I opened one at
random!
DOUGLAS: No, they weren’t all still sealed. They all still made a *khrrr* noise. But you see, Arthur, there
are twoways of making a whiskey miniature make a *khrrr* noise. One certainly is to get an unopened
one straight from the factory; but another is to take an open one and to dab the side of the cap with two
spots of clear nail varnish. Yeah. So while Arthur was bravely searching for the TV aerial, I opened them
all up and switched them for McHamish Tartan Terror – Mr. B being in no state to tell the difference – and
then I hid the Talisker on the plane to reclaim at my leisure.
MARTIN: Oh, so at least we …
DOUGLAS [interrupting]: I hid it somewhere no-one would think to look for it or recognise it for what it
was – somewhere no-one would touch it. I hid it in the …
MARTIN and DOUGLAS: … McHamish Tartan bottle.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Mr. Birling got his Talisker after all. Let’s hope he appreciated it.
ARTHUR: I don’t think he did.
DOUGLAS: No. I don’t think he did either.
MARTIN: So we don’t have any good whiskey … or bad whiskey … or a tip.
DOUGLAS: No. [pause] Anyone care for a shot of nail varnish?
[credits]

SEASON 1 – EPISODE 6: Fitton

(Bing-bong.)
ARTHUR (in a fake posh voice over the cabin address): Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, lords and
ladies … your Majesty. This is your captain speaking – Captain Wing Commander Sir Arthur Shappey –
welcoming you aboard this world record-attempting flight around … the world. Er, passengers on both
sides of the aircraft should have excellent views of … the world. If you find we’re going over a bit of the
world you like the look of, er, do please ring your little bell and one of the cabin crew will fit you with a
parachute and chuck you out. Otherwise, enjoy the flight and, er, when we get to Sydney, do keep an
eye out for the Sydney Harbour Bridge. I’m gonna have a crack at flying underneath it.
(Knocking on the cabin door.)
CAROLYN (from outside): Hey, Wing Commander! Less yammering; more hoovering!
ARTHUR: Sorry, Mum!
(A vacuum cleaner starts up.)

This week, Fitton!

(Sound of rain hammering down on the portacabin’s roof.)
MARTIN: Then there’s another leak over here.
ARTHUR: Right-o, Martin!
(Portacabin door opens.)
DOUGLAS: God, the rain’s horrible outside.
(Sound of dripping.)
DOUGLAS: … and inside.
CAROLYN: Douglas, you are forty-five minutes late.
DOUGLAS (insincerely): Oh dear, how terribly remiss of me. And Mr. Goddard is, of course, so famously
punctual. I do hope I haven’t kept him waiting.
CAROLYN: It’s a job, Douglas, a job for which you are being paid like any other and I expect you to be
on time.
DOUGLAS: I am chastened and ashamed. Arthur, tea.
ARTHUR: Uh, yep, will do, Douglas. Just trying to fix this leak first.
DOUGLAS: Oh well, in that case: Arthur, tea?
ARTHUR: Wow! You’re making me tea?!
DOUGLAS: I know. It’s a topsy-turvy day of misrule, isn’t it?
ARTHUR: Cracking! Loads of milk, four sugars, please!
(He hums a couple of random notes under his breath as he continues to work.)
ARTHUR: Hey, Douglas. You know when you get something going round and round in your brain?
DOUGLAS: Yes – though I’m a little surprised you do.
ARTHUR: A-a tune, I mean.
DOUGLAS: Ah! Yes.
ARTHUR: Well, I’ve got one of yours at the moment.
DOUGLAS: One of mine?
ARTHUR: Yeah, something you were singing a-a few days ago, only I’ve only got the one line. Um, how
does it go after this? Um …
(He starts to produce music from his throat. By no stretch of the imagination can it be called ‘singing’ – it
sounds more like he’s trying to gargle musically and he produces each note to a strangled ‘Ah’ sound.
The first seven notes probably sound vaguely familiar to some of the radio audience, but after that the
‘tune’ descends into what seems more like a string of random notes.)
ARTHUR: How does it go then?
DOUGLAS: Well, I hope after that it goes to a vet and is painlessly put out of its misery.
ARTHUR: But what’s the next line?
DOUGLAS: I have no idea.
ARTHUR: It’s something you were singing!
DOUGLAS: Are you sure you’re not thinking of when Martin trapped my hand in the cabin door?
ARTHUR: No, no, you were singing it this week. Um …
(He strangles a further string of notes. The tune sounds totally unlike what he was strangling before.)
DOUGLAS: Well, was it … (He starts to sing smoothly) … ♪ Summer time, and the living is easy … ♪
ARTHUR: No, it was more like …
(Again he does his best to strip his vocal chords as he gargles a tune dissimilar to the one he was
murdering previously.)
DOUGLAS: You do realise every time you do that, it’s completely different?
ARTHUR: No, listen.
(He starts to caterwaul again but mercifully Carolyn interrupts after only a few notes.)
CAROLYN: Please, Arthur, not again!
ARTHUR: Sorry, Mum.
(He gets back to trying to fix the leak.)
MARTIN: Oh, Douglas, I thought of another one this morning.
DOUGLAS: Oh yes?
CAROLYN: What are you doing this time?
DOUGLAS: Books That Sound More Interesting With The Final Letter Knocked Off.
CAROLYN: Oh, right. Er, what have you got so far?
DOUGLAS: Of Mice and Me; and Three Men in a Boa.
CAROLYN: Oh. Ah, ah! Far From The Madding Crow.
DOUGLAS: Oh, very good! We’ll have that. And what’s your new one, Martin?
MARTIN (excitedly): The Hound of the Baskerville! I’ve taken the ‘s’ off!
DOUGLAS: Almost good. Certainly better than when you took the ‘s’ off The Mill on the Floss to
make The Mill on the Flos.
[He pronounces ‘Flos’ the same as ‘Floss’.]
(Rattling and thumping nearby.)
ARTHUR: Ah-ha!
(More thudding, then the sound of trickling water.)
CAROLYN: Arthur, Arthur, what have you done?
ARTHUR: I’m making progress. I’ve found the hole where the rain’s coming in.
DOUGLAS: Found it, or made it?
ARTHUR: No, it was there before. I’ve just made it … easier to see.
MARTIN: You mean bigger.
ARTHUR: … Bigger-ish.
DOUGLAS (exasperated): Oh, for heaven’s sake! It’s now raining inside the portacabin! Can we please
just go into Fitton and wait in a nice coffee shop or something?
CAROLYN: No! If Goddard turns up, we have to be ready in twenty minutes – flight plan filed, aircraft
checked, ready to go.
DOUGLAS: He’s not going to call! We haven’t heard a peep out of him for twenty-eight days! He’s
clearly forgotten all about us.
CAROLYN: We don’t know that. Anyway, Standby is the Holy Grail of the airline industry – being paid to
fly without any actual flying. No risk of the three of you putting us into bankruptcy, prison or the side of a
mountain. God has smiled on us; and if he has chosen as his instrument a lippy telecom millionaire from
Bracknell, who are we to argue?
MARTIN: Well, if we can’t go into town, we could at least go and sit in the plane where it’s dry.
DOUGLAS (despairing): Oh, God, do we have to?
MARTIN: Well, we can sit in the plane, or we can sit in the rain.
DOUGLAS: Can’t we sit in the car or sit in a bar?
MARTIN: Douglas.
DOUGLAS: I’m sorry. I thought we were staging an impromptu tribute to Dr. Seuss.

(Sound of rain hammering down on the plane’s roof.)

DOUGLAS: Wow! This is much nicer(!)
ARTHUR: How about … a game of Charades?!
CAROLYN, MARTIN and DOUGLAS (simultaneously): No!
ARTHUR: Oh, why not?
CAROLYN: Because, dear heart, none of us will soon forget the misery of you spending twenty-five
minutes miming Apocalypse Now without knowing what an apocalypse was.
(Silence for a few seconds, then Arthur starts to strangle his tune again, but now it sounds even less like
the original one. However, Douglas now recognises another melody coming out of the cacophony.)
DOUGLAS: Oh! Oh-oh-oh, is it …
(He grandly sings the opening lines from the aria Non più andrai from Le nozze di Figaro, although he
doesn’t sing the actual words.)
ARTHUR (interrupting on the third line): No, that doesn’t sound anything like what I sang.
DOUGLAS: That, I’m willing to concede.
MARTIN: Well, so long as we’re in the plane with nothing to do, we could always review the Standard
Operating Procedures.
(Douglas and Carolyn sigh in exasperation.)
CAROLYN: Yes, that’ll make the day fly by on silver wings(!)
MARTIN: It is a legal requirement, and we’re here anyway.
DOUGLAS: That’s why you were so keen to come out to the plane, isn’t it, so you could get us to go
through your rotten old OPs.
MARTIN: Well, since I’ve gone to all the trouble of revising them …
CAROLYN (tetchily): Fine! We’ll go through one.
MARTIN (sulkily): No. I don’t want to now.
CAROLYN: Oh, come on.
MARTIN: No.
DOUGLAS (trying his best to sound genuine): Martin, we’re sorry. It’s very good of you to do
them. Please take us through one.
MARTIN: … All right. (He clears his throat, then shuffles through the pages of a manual.) Standard
Operating Procedure … evacuation in event of smoke or fire in cabin.
CAROLYN: Fine.
ARTHUR: Hang on: is it okay for me to hear these?
MARTIN: Yes! They’re not secrets!
ARTHUR: Oh. Okay, carry on.
MARTIN: “Set parking brake.”
DOUGLAS: Mmm-hmm.
MARTIN: “Shut down engines.”
CAROLYN: Good idea.
MARTIN: “P.A. announcement.”
DOUGLAS: Yeah.
MARTIN: “First Officer leaves through the nearest exit.”
DOUGLAS: You bet he does – and enters nearest bar.
MARTIN: “Captain dons cap, enters cabin to assist passengers.”
(There’s a pause, then Carolyn starts to giggle, trying and failing to suppress her laughter. A moment
later Douglas also starts trying to choke back his chuckles.)
MARTIN: What?
CAROLYN (giggling): Does what?!
MARTIN: Assists passengers. What? What’s so funny?
DOUGLAS (laughing): No, no, no – before that.
MARTIN: “Captain dons cap, enters cabin to …”
(Carolyn and Douglas lose it, bursting out into sustained laughter.)
DOUGLAS: “Dons cap”?!
CAROLYN: “Captain dons cap”!
DOUGLAS: Oh yeah! You have to don your cap before dealing with a fire!
CAROLYN: Otherwise how will the fire know who the captain is?!
MARTIN: It’s for the passengers.
(Douglas starts quoting from the poem Casabianca by Felicia Dorothea Hemans.)
DOUGLAS: “The boy stood on the burning deck / Whence all but he had fled.”
(Carolyn deliberately re-writes the next lines.)
CAROLYN: “His heart was in his mouth but, lo! / His cap was on his head”!
MARTIN (irritated and hurt): Right! Fine! Forget it. Forget it! I’ll go and sit on the flight deck and review
them by myself.
(Douglas and Carolyn continue to laugh as the flight deck door slams, then they slowly pull themselves
together.)
CAROLYN: Ooh. Oh. Oh dear.
DOUGLAS: Oh. Was that a bit …?
CAROLYN: Yes, a little bit.
DOUGLAS: Oh.
CAROLYN: Do you think, er, do you think one of us should, er …?
DOUGLAS: Yes.
(The flight deck door opens and then closes.)
ARTHUR: Right. Well. Just you and me, Mum. … You know, you can play Charades with two people.
CAROLYN (instantly): No.
ARTHUR: Okay. Oh, um … Dad called this morning.
CAROLYN: Ah. I thought he might.
ARTHUR: Mmm. Well, he did.
CAROLYN: What did he have to say?
ARTHUR: Oh, he asked after you … um, and the plane.
CAROLYN: Oh yes? In which order?
ARTHUR: Not that order.
CAROLYN: No.
ARTHUR: Uh, and he said to tell you …
CAROLYN (interrupting): Not interested.
ARTHUR: Yeah, but he said to tell you …
CAROLYN: I know what he said to tell me, because he’s said it every twelfth of November for eight
years. Not interested.
ARTHUR: He still made me promise to say it. Sorry.
CAROLYN: Go on, then. Get it over with.
ARTHUR: He said to tell you he’d like to buy his plane back off you.
CAROLYN: Not interested. And it’s not his plane. Not that it matters, but how much was he offering this
time?
ARTHUR: A hundred pounds.
CAROLYN: A hundred?! Well, that’s just silly! Last year I turned him down for a hundred and twenty-
fivethousand. Why would I go for twenty-five grand less?
ARTHUR: No, not a hundred thousand pounds – a hundred pounds.
CAROLYN: No, dear, no. I didn’t pick you up on it before because frankly life’s too short, but when he
said “a hundred”, he meant a hundred thousand.
ARTHUR (confidently): No he didn’t.
CAROLYN: Arthur, given that – in your short life – you have caught hold of the wrong end of enough
sticks to build an entire wrong end of a forest, what makes you so sure you’ve got it right this time?
ARTHUR: Because he made me write it down.
(He takes out a piece of paper and reads from it.)
ARTHUR: “Tell her, yes, he does mean a hundred pounds, not a hundred grand. One hundred pounds
and no pennies. I haven’t got it wrong. No, write ‘Arthur’. Arthur hasn’t got it wrong. Phone if you want
details.”

DOUGLAS (tentatively): Erm, Martin?

MARTIN (sulkily): What do you want?
DOUGLAS: Apologies, Martin. That was very childish of us.
MARTIN: Yes it ruddy well was.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Perfectly reasonable emergency procedure.
MARTIN: Are you being funny again?
DOUGLAS: No! No, I mean it. The hat makes it clear to confused, frightened passengers that you are in
charge. Absolutely.
MARTIN: Exactly!
DOUGLAS: Entirely sensible.
MARTIN: It’s nothing to do with showing off about being the captain.
DOUGLAS: No.
MARTIN: I mean, God knows I could write “Captain” on my forehead in lipstick and people still wouldn’t
get it.
(Douglas snorts laughter.)
MARTIN: What? What have I done now?
DOUGLAS (still laughing): No, no, noth-nothing. I mean, not you. I was – I was just hoping you weren’t
thinking of putting that in the Operating Procedure.
(Martin chuckles.)
MARTIN: What, you mean, “First Officer leaves through nearest exit. Captain writes ‘Captain’ on
forehead with lipstick, dons cap, enters cabin.”
DOUGLAS: “In unlikely event of captain non-recognition, captain doffs cap, gestures to lipstick
inscription …”
(They both laugh, then they settle down.)
MARTIN: Why do they always think you’re the captain, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Oh, that’s easy. ’Cause I don’t care. Captains don’t care. I’ve been a first officer, been a
captain, been a first officer again. All the same to me. So long as you’re happy, who gives a toss how
many rings there are on your sleeve? Whereas you always look like you want to be the captain, so
people assume you can’t be one. You’ve gotta lose that look.
MARTIN: But I have always wanted to be an airline captain.
DOUGLAS: Really?
MARTIN: Yes, ever since I was six.
DOUGLAS: Ah. And before that?
MARTIN: I wanted to be an aeroplane.
DOUGLAS: I see.
MARTIN: Why – what did you want to be?
DOUGLAS: Oh, various things at different times. I studied medicine at university.
MARTIN: You wanted to be a doctor?
DOUGLAS: Well, I wanted to be a medical student. They seemed to have the most fun. I’m not sure I
ever wanted to be a doctor – glamorous, but gloopy.
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Coffee, chaps.
DOUGLAS: How about you, Arthur? What do you want to do if you grow up?
ARTHUR: Huh?
MARTIN: When you were a boy, what did you want to be?
ARTHUR: Oh, well, I-I was a bit like you, actually, Skipper. I always wanted to be a pilot too.
DOUGLAS: Good lord, really?
ARTHUR: Yeah. (He chuckles briefly.) Obviously that was never gonna happen.
MARTIN: Oh, well …
ARTHUR: Although, actually, when I was seventeen Mum did get me an interview at the, um, Oxford
Aviation Academy, for my birthday. So I-I-I actually went up and I sat in the hall and the others started to
come in and … I dunno – they all looked like proper pilots, or at least … You know the Muppet Babies?
DOUGLAS: I fear they may have passed me by.
ARTHUR: Well, it was this cartoon with baby versions of Kermit and Miss Piggy and everyone; and
these guys looked like Muppet Baby versions of … well, you two … well, anyway …
MARTIN (resigned): Yes, I know, I know – of him.
ARTHUR: Yeah. And anyway, the-the woman came out and said, “Arthur Shappey, you’re up,” and all
the Muppet Baby pilots looked round to see who he was … and so did I. After a bit they decided he
hadn’t turned up and went to the next guy. So, you know, part of me always wonders, um, what would
have happened if I’d gone through that door.
DOUGLAS: Well, I can tell you, Arthur. They’d have made mincemeat out of you.
ARTHUR: Really?
DOUGLAS: Absolutely. You’d be a hopeless pilot. They’d have laughed you out of the room.
ARTHUR: And you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?
DOUGLAS: Not at all. You wouldn’t have had a cat’s chance in hell, would he, Martin?
MARTIN: I’m afraid not.
ARTHUR (affectionately): Aww. You guys are great!

MARTIN: There isn’t, though. After the age of thirty, you just don’t meet anyone new. You’re on your raft
with your friends, and everyone else is on their raft. Sometimes the rafts bump into each other, but
there’s no raft-hopping. And I’ve managed to get on an all-boys raft.
DOUGLAS: Well, what about cabin crew?
MARTIN: Hmm, well, for two very different reasons, I’m afraid neither Arthur nor Carolyn quite float my
boat.
DOUGLAS: Well, there’s always weddings. I met all three of my wives at weddings.
MARTIN: Really?!
DOUGLAS: Mmm, course. The third one, I met at my wedding … which was a trifle awkward.
MARTIN: Yes, I imagine it would be!
DOUGLAS: Yeah, my second marriage wasn’t my favourite.
MARTIN: Which one was?
DOUGLAS: Oh, the current Mrs Richardson, hands down! She’s smashing! Look: I got her this for our
anniversary.
(Sound of his flight bag being unzipped.)
MARTIN: … I think you may be showing me the wrong bag.
DOUGLAS: No – that’s the one.
MARTIN: … You’ve got her a bottle of brown sauce? You incorrigible old romantic(!)
DOUGLAS: Ah, but it’s her favourite brown sauce, only they changed the recipe in Britain and now she
doesn’t like it any more. But I did some research and they still make it with the old recipe in Greece. So
last time we were in Thessaloniki – you remember, back when we used to fly planes for a living instead
of sit in them – I got her this. She’ll love it.
MARTIN: Oh, you sod. That actually is romantic.

CAROLYN: Arthur. Listen carefully.

ARTHUR: Oh-oh.
CAROLYN: I’ve just been talking with your father.
ARTHUR: Right.
CAROLYN: He’s now offering to buy GERTI for one pound.
ARTHUR: Right. And are you thinking of … ’Cause I’d probably give you ten.
CAROLYN: … in exchange for which, he will take GERTI and, with her, all of MJN’s debts.
ARTHUR: Oh.
CAROLYN: So … what do you think I should do?
(Flight deck door opens.)
DOUGLAS: Ah, Carolyn.
CAROLYN: What?
DOUGLAS: Well, it’s two hours to dusk and he’s clearly not coming. Can we have a little snifter?
CAROLYN: No. Get out.
DOUGLAS: Pardonnez-moi.
(Flight deck door closes.)
CAROLYN: Carry on, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Well, what do you want to do?
CAROLYN: I-I want to know what you think.
ARTHUR: Really? Are you sure?
CAROLYN: Yes! I mean, let’s be clear: not in your capacity as astute financial analyst; in your capacity
as someone who might one day come into this money – or lack of money.
ARTHUR: Oh. Right. Well, um, I don’t want to … I think you should do whatever you think … but … just-
just thinking about myself, I don’t know what I’d do with the money that would be better than getting to
go up in the plane all the time with you guys. But that’s just me being selfish.
(Flight deck door opens.)
DOUGLAS: No – she didn’t really go for the drinks idea. Water it is.
(Clinking of glasses, then water pouring into them.)
MARTIN: So, what is it exactly that’s so special about … I don’t even know her name.
DOUGLAS: Helena.
MARTIN: Hmm.
DOUGLAS: Oh, I don’t know. I mean, she’s clever and funny and kind and beautiful and so on and et
cetera – you know, the standard specs. But, I think if I’m honest, what it really comes down to is, she
thinks I’m terrific.
MARTIN: Does she?(!)
DOUGLAS: Yup. The bee’s pyjamas; the cat’s knees. Really terrific.
MARTIN: And that’s enough to make you happy together, is it – your shared belief in the terrificness of
you?
(Flight deck door opens.)
DOUGLAS: It’s not a bad start.
MARTIN: But does it make you happy? Truly happy?
DOUGLAS: Oh, well, come on. No-one’s truly happy.
ARTHUR: I’m truly happy!
MARTIN: Oh God.
DOUGLAS: No, Arthur; you are cheery. No-one’s interested in the secret of true cheeriness.
ARTHUR: No, that’s not true. I’m fairly often just completely happy. Like, for instance, when you get into
a bath quickly and it’s just the right temperature, and you go … (blissfully) … “Ohhhh!” I mean, no-one
really gets any happier than that.
MARTIN: What a depressing thought.
ARTHUR: No! No, it’s not, though! Because those sort of things happen all the time, whereas you’re
hardly ever – you know – blissfully happy with the love of your life in the moonlight; and when you are,
you’re too busy worrying about it being over soon. Whereas the bath moments – there’s loads of those!
Oh! Like when you realise your knuckles are ready for cracking.
DOUGLAS: What?!
(Arthur cracks his knuckles.)
DOUGLAS and MARTIN: Eurgh!
ARTHUR: See? I was happy then. Ooh – wait! I’ve got another one.
(Flight deck door closes as Arthur leaves.)
MARTIN: Did you order the motivational seminar by Forrest Gump?
(Flight deck door opens again.)
ARTHUR: Apples!
DOUGLAS: Oh, no! Please spare us the crisp crunch of the first bite of an apple.
ARTHUR: No, no, of course not. No-one really likes apples. That would be like liking … wood. No – I
mean this.
(Sound of an apple repeatedly landing in Arthur’s hands.)
DOUGLAS: What?!
ARTHUR: This – tossing an apple from hand to hand. It just feels really nice. I could do it for hours. Try
it.
(He tosses an apple to Douglas, who also starts tossing his from hand to hand.)
DOUGLAS (after a moment): You know, there is something rather pleasant about it.
MARTIN: Oh, for goodness’ sakes! I don’t believe it!
ARTHUR: Try it!
(He throws an apple to Martin, who joins in with the apple-tossing.)
ARTHUR (after a moment): See?!
MARTIN: Well, it’s … satisfying, but I wouldn’t say I was happy.
ARTHUR: Give it a bit longer.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Good grief. The world’s least impressive troupe of jugglers. What on earth are you doing?
ARTHUR: Nothing!
MARTIN: Nothing.
(As the boys continue to toss their apples, Douglas begins to idly hum the tune of We’re Busy Doing
Nothing.)
ARTHUR (loudly): That’s it!
(Martin cries out in surprise.)
MARTIN: Oh! Arthur, you made me drop my apple!
CAROLYN: Oh, Martin. Surely the only professional pilot who cannot successfully juggle one apple.
ARTHUR: That’s the tune, though!
(He gargles the beginning of the tune, still getting it wrong within a few notes.)
DOUGLAS: Oh!
(He starts to sing.)
DOUGLAS: ♪ We’re busy doing nothing, working the whole day through … ♪
(Martin is already humming along by the second half of the phrase, and now joins in the singing.)
DOUGLAS and MARTIN: ♪ Trying to find lots of things not to do … ♪
(Carolyn joins in.)
DOUGLAS, MARTIN and CAROLYN: ♪ We’re busy going nowhere. Isn’t it just a crime? ♪
(And now Arthur joins in – somewhat discordantly – for the last line.)
THE WHOLE CREW: ♪ We’d like to be unhappy but we never do have the time! ♪
(They all laugh.)
CAROLYN: All right, all right, who wants a drink?
DOUGLAS: Really? You seemed quite anti the idea just now.
CAROLYN: Yes. Well, I have perked up somewhat since then; and anyway, for goodness’ sake,
Goddard’s obviously not going to call. It’s an hour before dusk – after twenty-eight days of silence he’s
forgotten about us.
MARTIN: Except he’s guaranteed to call if we have a drink.
DOUGLAS: Well, he’d better hurry up then. He’s three drinks too late for me.
CAROLYN: Douglas. Have you been drinking?
DOUGLAS: I cannot tell a lie. What am I saying? I’m terrific at telling lies. I mean, I’m not going to tell a
lie. Yes.
MARTIN: I thought it was water!
DOUGLAS: That’s the beauty of vodka: colourless, odourless. Proof that God loves pilots … or at least
the Russians do.
(Glasses clink and liquid is poured.)
CAROLYN: Arthur? One for you?
ARTHUR: Oh, thanks. Er, can I have pineapple juice?
CAROLYN: No, it’s all right. We’ve decided he’s not going to call. You can have wine.
ARTHUR (disappointed): Oh. Okay. (He perks up.) But can I have pineapple juice?
CAROLYN: Yes, fine.
ARTHUR: Thanks, Mum!

(More alcohol is poured into glasses. Martin and Douglas snigger a little drunkenly.)
DOUGLAS: Er, er – A Dance to the Music of Tim?
(Martin and Carolyn laugh.)
CAROLYN: Oh! Oh, very good, very good, very good. Ah, mmm – The da Vinci Cod.
(The men laugh.)
MARTIN: Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh! James Bond! James Bond! Erm … The Man With The Golden Gu.
(He pronounces it ‘goo’, then sniggers.)
MARTIN: Goldfinge!
(Pronouncing it ‘gold-finj’, he laughs … alone.)
MARTIN (loudly): Octopuss!
DOUGLAS: “Octopuss”?! That’s just ‘octopus’!
MARTIN: Yes!
DOUGLAS (despairingly): Oh, please, someone save me from this.
(A phone begins to ring.)
DOUGLAS: Not you, though.
MARTIN: Who is it?
CAROLYN: Anonymous caller.
ARTHUR: Could be anyone.
MARTIN: Probably not him.
CAROLYN (picking up the phone): Hello? … Oh, yes. … Yes, of course! Yes! Very well. Goodbye.
(She puts the phone down.)
CAROLYN: Goddard will be here in twenty minutes.
MARTIN (groaning): Ohh.
CAROLYN: What do we do?
DOUGLAS: Why did you say yes?
CAROLYN: He’s paid us thousands and thousands of pounds this month just for me to say ‘Yes’ to that
one phone call.
DOUGLAS: True.
CAROLYN: We have to fly.
DOUGLAS: But …
CAROLYN: … but we can’t fly.
MARTIN (drunkenly): I can fly. (half-singing) I can fly right up to the sky!
CAROLYN: You can’t!
MARTIN (singing): ♪ I can! ♪
CAROLYN: You can’t!
DOUGLAS: No, but …
CAROLYN: What?
DOUGLAS: I can.
CAROLYN: No you can’t!
MARTIN (puzzled): Hmm?
CAROLYN: We’ll just tell him the plane won’t start and refund him his money, and … I-I wasn’t going to
tell you this, but as it happens, today someone made me an offer…
DOUGLAS (interrupting): I’m sorry to interrupt, Carolyn, but you’re not listening. I am fit to fly.
CAROLYN: You’re not! You’ve been drinking.
DOUGLAS: No. I haven’t. I don’t drink.
MARTIN (laughing): Yes you do!
DOUGLAS: No I don’t.
MARTIN (drunkenly): You do! I’ve seen you, hundreds of times!
DOUGLAS: No. You think you have, but you haven’t.
CAROLYN (catching on): Oh!
MARTIN (not catching on at all): I have! You’ve been drinking tonight!
DOUGLAS: The thing about not being able to tell vodka from water is it cuts both ways.
CAROLYN: So you’re sober!
DOUGLAS: Very sober. Eight years for me, too.
CAROLYN: You can fly!
DOUGLAS: I can fly.
MARTIN: I can fly too! I can bloody well fly as well as any … fly.
DOUGLAS: Of course, I’m perfectly qualified to fly this plane alone.
CAROLYN: Yes, but Goddard doesn’t know that. He’s hired two pilots. He’s expecting a captain.
DOUGLAS: Well, we could always …
(He trails off.)
CAROLYN: Oh no.
DOUGLAS: Well, what else can we do?
CAROLYN: Oh no!
DOUGLAS: Arthur!
ARTHUR: Yep?
DOUGLAS: Arthur Shappey? You’re up!

(Bing-bong.)
ARTHUR (over cabin address, his voice occasionally cracking with nerves): Good evening, this is your
captain speaking. Captain Martin Crieff speaking. I shall be captaining the plane as your captain this
evening.
(Long pause.)
ARTHUR: Okay, bye!
(In the cabin.)
MARTIN (trying and almost succeeding to sound sober): Good evening, Mr. Goddard. Welcome aboard.
My name’s Arthur. I’ll be your steward today.
MR. GODDARD (east London accent): Yeah, cheers, Arfur. All right?
MARTIN: May I offer sir a drink, sir?
MR. GODDARD: Yeah, yeah, ’ang on. Let me get meself sorted out.
MARTIN: Oh, absolutely, sir. But when you’re all nicely settled in, would you like me to bring you a drink?
That’s all I was asking.
MR. GODDARD: Yeah, all right. Mineral water.
MARTIN: Very good, sir. Would you like spill, or starkling?
MR. GODDARD: Just hang on a minute, can you?!
CAROLYN (sounding decidedly fuzzy): Er, Martin, I’ll take care of this.
MARTIN (quietly, through gritted teeth): I’m Arthur!
CAROLYN: Oh, yes, yes. Arthur … (she chuckles) … I’ll take care of this, Arthur. Sir, would you like a
drink?
MR. GODDARD: Yes! A still mineral water, no ice, all right?
CAROLYN: Right! Go and get him one, Mar…thur.
MARTIN: Martha?!
CAROLYN: Arthur! Arthur!
(She and Martin both burst into giggles.)
MR. GODDARD: What’s up? What’s goin’ on?
CAROLYN: No-no-no-no, nothing, nothing, nothing. He used to be … he used to be Martha, now he’s
Arthur!
(They crack up laughing.)
MR. GODDARD: What are you laughin’ at?
(The two of them try to control themselves.)
MARTIN: I’m not laughing.
MR. GODDARD: Yes you are.
(Martin sniggers.)
MR. GODDARD: And why’s your uniform so baggy?
MARTIN (still forcing back giggles): I’m … I’ve lost a lot of weight recently.
CAROLYN: Yes, yes, yes … (she giggles) … from when he was Martha!
(She and Martin crack up again.)
MR. GODDARD: Right. I’ve ’ad enough of this. I wanna see the pilots.
CAROLYN: Oh, no, no. I’m afraid that’s quite impossible.
MR. GODDARD (sternly): Take me to the pilots! Now.

(Sound of apples being tossed from hand to hand.)

DOUGLAS: That’s right! And catch and throw, and catch and throw, and catch and throw, and catch …
(As they set up a rhythm to Douglas’ words, Arthur begins to sing the Entry Of The Gladiators by Julius
Fucik – better known as the circus theme. The flight deck door bursts open as they continue.)
MR. GODDARD: Look, what’s going on with … bloody hell!
DOUGLAS (as he and Arthur stop tossing apples): Oh, I’m sorry, sir, but you’re intruding on a standard
pre-flight exercise to improve reflex time and hand-eye coordination. Could you return to your seat?
ARTHUR: Yeah. That’s right.
MR. GODDARD: You’re the captain, are you?
ARTHUR: I certainly am. I am … the captain.
MR. GODDARD: Right, I wanna smell your breath – both of you.
DOUGLAS: Be our guest.
(He huffs breath towards Mr. Goddard, as does Arthur.)
MR. GODDARD: All right, then. Fair enough. Fair enough.
ARTHUR: ’Course, if we’d been drinking vodka, you wouldn’t be able to smell it on our breath.
MR. GODDARD: You’ve been drinking vodka?
ARTHUR: No, no, we haven’t! I was just saying, as an interesting fact.
MR. GODDARD: Are you really a captain, mate?
DOUGLAS: Yes. You see, i-it…
ARTHUR: Thank you, Douglas. I can deal with this. I am a captain, yes, and I can assure you that you
may fully rely on my professionalism and my judgement.
MR. GODDARD: Yeah. Fair enough, mate. No offence.
ARTHUR: … not to mention my thirty years of flying experience.
MR. GODDARD: ’ang on! Thirty years?! How old are you?
ARTHUR: … Well … if I qualified at eighteen … which I did … that makes me … (hesitantly) forty-eight.
MR. GODDARD: You don’t look forty-eight to me.
DOUGLAS: The captain does have a youthful vigour.
MARTIN: Everyone comments on it.
CAROLYN: Of course, he has a punishing moisturising routine …
MR. GODDARD (interrupting): All right. I dunno what the ’ell’s goin’ on ’ere, but luckily for you I’ve got to
be in Madrid by nine. So ’ere’s how it’s goin’ to go: you are gonna fly the plane …
DOUGLAS: Yes, sir.
MR. GODDARD: Shut it. You are gonna watch, and not touch anything unless he tells you to.
DOUGLAS: I won’t tell him to.
MR. GODDARD: Good. And you, and you are gonna sit in your little kitchen with a litre of water each
and sober up. And no-one is gonna juggle apples!

(Sound of a hairdryer being waved around.)

ARTHUR: Zzzoooom! Zooom! Zooom!
CAROLYN: Arthur, it’s a hairdryer. You have to point it steadily. You can’t just zap things dry like it’s a ray
gun.
ARTHUR: Sorry, Mum.
(The portacabin door opens.)
MARTIN: Carolyn, I’m off now.
CAROLYN: Cheerio. Oh, Martin, did you leave a bottle of brown sauce on the flight deck, you revolting
creature?
MARTIN: Oh, no – actually that’s Douglas’. Has he gone?
CAROLYN: Oh, at the first whiff of mopping up to be done.
MARTIN: Right, well, give it to me. I’ll drop it off on my way home.
CAROLYN: I’m sure he can go a couple of days without brown sauce.
MARTIN: No, he … It’s a long, slightly weird story.
CAROLYN: Then, by all means, keep it to yourself. Goodbye!
(The office phone starts to ring.)
MARTIN: Bye-bye, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Bye, Skipper! I loved being you!
MARTIN: Oh! Well, I’m glad somebody does.
(He leaves. Carolyn picks up the phone.)
CAROLYN: Ah, thank you for ringing back. … Yes, I have a message for Mr. Shappey from the CEO of
MJN Air.
(She narrates her message slowly and pedantically.)
CAROLYN: “GERTI’s staying with me, so up yours, baldy.” … Yes, it is a business message. It’s in code,
you see. He’ll know what it means. And that’s from Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, CEO, My Jet Now Air.
Thank you so much.
(She hangs up.)

(A doorbell is rung. The door is opened.)

DOUGLAS: Oh. Martin!
MARTIN: Hello, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: What are you doing here?
MARTIN: I just stopped by to give you this. You left it on the plane.
DOUGLAS: Oh! Right. Yes. Er, thank you.
MARTIN: You’re welcome. Just thought I’d stop by on my way home. I mean, I’m not really on my way,
actually, but to save your anniversary, I thought …
DOUGLAS: I know, and I-I do appreciate it. I really do.
(Awkward pause.)
DOUGLAS: Well, I won’t keep you.
MARTIN: Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll see you next …
(He stops.)
MARTIN: Douglas. Your epaulettes!
DOUGLAS: What?
MARTIN: They’ve grown an extra bar.
DOUGLAS: … Oh, look at that! How silly of me! I must have put on my old Air England ones by mistake.
MARTIN: When?
DOUGLAS: When?
MARTIN: When?
DOUGLAS: Well, when I got dressed.
MARTIN: Douglas, you were not wearing captains’ epaulettes during the flight! I would have noticed,
believe me.
DOUGLAS: Yes, you would, wouldn’t you?
MARTIN: Which means you must have …
HELENA (from a distance): Who is it, Dougie?
DOUGLAS: Er, no-one, sweetheart. Just someone dropping something off.
HELENA (coming closer): Oh! Hello.
MARTIN: Hello. I’m Martin.
DOUGLAS: Well, thanks for that, Martin. I’ll see you …
HELENA: Martin! Oh, from MJN.
DOUGLAS: That’s right, darling. Martin, this is my wonderful wife Helena. Helena, this is my … trusted
and valued first officer, Martin Crieff.
HELENA: Pleased to meet you.
MARTIN (thoughtfully): … Pleased to meet you.
HELENA: We meet at last! I’ve heard so much about you.
MARTIN: So I gather.
HELENA: Well, won’t you come in for a drink?
MARTIN: Perhaps another time. I’d better get home.
HELENA: Oh, what a pity! I’ve been dying to hear what he’s like as a boss. I bet you end up doing all the
work! I know I’d hate to be Douglas’ first officer.
MARTIN: Yes, well, as a friend once told me, “As long as you’re happy, who gives a toss how many
stripes you’ve got on your arm?”
HELENA: Ah, but I bet whoever told you that was a first officer!
MARTIN: Now you come to mention it, I rather think he was.

SEASON 2 – EPISODE 1: Helsinki

(Radio on.)
FITTON AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL: Golf Tango India, I’m gonna clear you to start after Golf Echo Echo.
DOUGLAS (into radio): Thank you, Karl. Ready to go after Golf Echo.
KARL: That’s Golf Echo Echo.
DOUGLAS: Sorry, Tower. I thought the second ‘Echo’ was an echo.
KARL: What?
DOUGLAS: I thought you said ‘Golf Echo’ … ‘echo’ – when in fact you said, ‘Golf Echo Echo’. That is to
say, I thought the first ‘Echo’ was ‘Echo’ and the second ‘Echo’ was an echo of ‘Echo’; whereas in fact
both ‘Echo’s were ‘Echo’s and neither ‘Echo’ was an echo.
KARL: Then perhaps I’d better put you right to the back of the queue while you check your radio
equipment, shall I?
(Slight pause.)
DOUGLAS: … Golf Tango India ready to follow Golf Echo Echo.

This week, Helsinki!

(Douglas is humming the tune English Country Garden as he moves something around in the flight
deck. The flight deck door opens.)
MARTIN: Oh! Hello Douglas. Good lord!
DOUGLAS: Ah. Morning, Martin. I wasn’t expecting you just yet.
MARTIN: Evidently not!
DOUGLAS: Have you picked up the weather?
MARTIN: Er, yes. North Sea turbulence; clear skies at Helsinki.
DOUGLAS: Oh, jolly good.
MARTIN: Douglas, I can’t help but notice you’ve filled the flight deck with orchids.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Yes, I have done that. Yes.
MARTIN: Are you about to propose to me?
DOUGLAS: It pains me to break your heart, Martin, but no. These are for another man – a Finnish
customs officer named Milo, to be exact.
MARTIN (getting on his pretend high horse): And what does he have that I don’t have?!
DOUGLAS: Fish cakes.
(Martin chuckles.)
MARTIN: Really?!
DOUGLAS: Also salmon, turbot and langoustine.
MARTIN: Oh, Douglas, you’re not smuggling again?
DOUGLAS: Absolutely not. Perish the thought! A simple exchange of gifts. You see, a friend gave me
these orchids when we were in Cyprus, as a token of appreciation for the sixteen jars of Béarnaise
sauce I gave him; which were in turn an unwanted gift from a friend in Marseilles. The orchids are lovely
but not quite my thing, so I shall pass them on to my friend in Helsinki and – who knows? – he may wish
to show his gratitude by presenting me with assorted fish and fish products, which will be just the very
thing for a friend of mine in Zurich. They’re rather short of fresh seafood in Switzerland – don’t know
why(!)
MARTIN: I see. But if you just keep bartering each thing along, what’s the point?
DOUGLAS: Well, put it this way: I have here about five hundred Euros’ worth of flowers, and I shall
exchange them for about five hundred and sixty Euros’ worth of fish; and I started three months ago with
a cheese sandwich. Right – that’s most of them hidden away. Could you put this bunch under your seat?
(Martin groans as he takes the bunch from Douglas. The flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR (cheerfully): Good morning, good morning, good morning, gents! Teas, coffees? Keys, toffees?
DOUGLAS: Morning, Arthur. You seem a little low-spirited.
ARTHUR: Do I?
DOUGLAS (flatly): No.
MARTIN: What is it this time? Have the numbers you would have picked in the Lottery come up again?
ARTHUR: Oh, that was a great day, wasn’t it? Sixty thousand pounds!
MARTIN: That you didn’t win.
ARTHUR: But that’s what my numbers were worth! Brilliant! No, no, nothing like that. No, er, let’s just
say I’mreally looking forward to meeting our passenger today.
DOUGLAS: Ooh, who is it? Let’s see …
(He consults a sheet of paper.)
DOUGLAS: Mr. Arthur Milliner. A stockbroker. Yes, he sounds enormous fun.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN (grumpily): Oh, you’re here already. What are you doing in here?
MARTIN: Arranging flowers.
CAROLYN: Don’t get sarcastic with me.
MARTIN: Sorry, Carolyn.
ARTHUR: Scusey. Back in a minute.
(Flight deck door closes.)
CAROLYN: Right, you’ve got clear skies at Helsinki; your alternate is Stockholm; Douglas, you operate
out.
DOUGLAS: Wilco. Who’s this Milliner chap we’re flying, then? Arthur seems very keen to meet him.
CAROLYN: No idea. Internet booking. Payment’s gone through fine, though, so, er …
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Happy birthday!
CAROLYN: Oh!
MARTIN: Oh.
DOUGLAS: Oh, yes!
CAROLYN: You remembered!
DOUGLAS: Happy birthday.
MARTIN: Yes, happy birthday.
ARTHUR: You thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you?!
CAROLYN: Well, I-I wasn’t sure.
ARTHUR: Of course not! Not a special birthday like this one!
CAROLYN: What’s so special about sixty-three?
ARTHUR: Well, you know, because of the song. (Singing to the tune of When I’m Sixty Four) ♪ Do you
still like me? / Can you still see me? / Now I’m sixty-three! ♪
DOUGLAS: Ah, that song. Carolyn, you’re aware I had forgotten, aren’t you?
CAROLYN: Yes! Don’t worry. I forgot to put any money on your expenses card. Paying for your own
hotel room can be your present.
DOUGLAS: That’s … that’s a very big present!
CAROLYN: I know! I’m such a lucky girl! You shouldn’t have(!)
MARTIN: I didn’t forget.
CAROLYN: Didn’t you?
DOUGLAS: Didn’t you?
MARTIN: No – I … hid my present under my seat. It’s …
(He produces the bunch of flowers.)
MARTIN: … these.
CAROLYN: Oh, orchids! How lovely!
(Martin laughs nervously.)
DOUGLAS: Gosh. How generous of you, Martin.
MARTIN: Not that generous.
DOUGLAS: Pretty generous. Orchids are very expensive.
MARTIN: Quite expensive – not all that expensive.
DOUGLAS: You’d be surprised.
MARTIN: No I wouldn’t.
DOUGLAS: Yes you will.
ARTHUR: My present, though – time for my present.
CAROLYN: Yes, I’m sorry, dear. What is it?
ARTHUR: Well, it’s a pretty special one, and it’s in the cabin. So, are you ready?
CAROLYN: Yes.
ARTHUR: Mum, it’s been fifteen years since you’ve seen her, but today, for your birthday, get ready to
meet …
(He opens the flight deck door.)
ARTHUR: … your sister Ruth!
(Long silence.)
CAROLYN: Oh.
ARTHUR: And her husband Philip, and her grandson Kieran!
(Another long silence.)
ARTHUR: Hooray!
KIERAN (sounding teenaged, with a fairly posh accent): Aren’t you going to say anything to her,
Granny?
RUTH (northern English accent): Well, Kieran, when a lady is asked to drive a hundred and fifty miles to
meet her sister, she naturally assumes it’s because her sister has something to say to her.
(Slight pause.)
RUTH: But evidently not.
CAROLYN: Arthur, during your no doubt meticulous planning of this occasion, did it occur to you that if
two sisters haven’t spoken for fifteen years, there might be a reason for it?
ARTHUR: No.
CAROLYN: Ah. Well, regrettably, you’ll have to tell your aunt she’s wasted her time. We’re about to
leave for Helsinki and I have much to do.
ARTHUR: A-ha! That’s the second part of my present.
CAROLYN: What?
ARTHUR (excitedly): I booked the trip! So we can all go together!
MARTIN: You booked the trip?
DOUGLAS: You’re Arthur Milliner?
ARTHUR: Yes!
MARTIN: ‘Milliner’? Why ‘Milliner’?
ARTHUR: Because it’s not my name, but it sounds like a name that someone might have.
MARTIN: And ‘Arthur’?
ARTHUR: That was the clever bit! It’s the last name you’d expect me to use, because it actually is my
name!
DOUGLAS: To be honest, Arthur, I think the moment you decided to book your aunt on a fake flight to
Helsinki, you had us on the back foot, expectations-wise.
CAROLYN: Arthur, a word with you in the galley.
ARTHUR: … I don’t want to.
CAROLYN: I want you to.
(Door closes. [Transcriber’s note: this doesn’t make sense. They must be in the cabin at this point
because they can’t all be crammed into the flight deck, and the galley is only separated from the cabin
by a curtain. A rare sound effects gaffe, I think.])
DOUGLAS: Oh dear. This is a little awkward, isn’t it?
RUTH: It’s not awkward for me.
DOUGLAS: Oh good(!) Just the rest of us, then.
RUTH: No! No, it’s not awkward for my husband; it’s not awkward for my grandson. We’ve nothing to
feel awkward about. We accepted an invitation in good faith.
DOUGLAS: … So, Philip, what line of work are you in?
RUTH: My husband’s deaf.
DOUGLAS: Ah. That explains much.
RUTH: What does it explain?
DOUGLAS: Why he can’t hear me.
KIERAN: Are you the captain?
DOUGLAS: No, I’m the first officer. This is the cap…
MARTIN (interrupting): I’m the captain.
KIERAN: You’re very young to be a captain.
MARTIN (exasperated): Oh, for goodness’ sake! You’re an actual child!
KIERAN: No, I mean, wow! You’re very young to be a captain! Did you display exceptional leadership
skills and goal focus?
MARTIN: Ah, well, it’s, er, not for me to say.
DOUGLAS (resignedly): And yet, and yet.
KIERAN: Because I also displayed exceptional leadership skills and goal focus, and that’s a verbatim
quote from my report. Are you prepared to share the techniques of your success?
MARTIN: Oh, well. Yes, there’s probably a tip or two I can pass along. What do you say we have you up
on the flight deck once we get underway, eh?
KIERAN: I am delighted to accept!
(Martin chuckles.)
DOUGLAS: And the small matter of the anti-terrorism laws, Captain?
MARTIN (airily): Oh, let’s not get too hidebound by rules and regs, eh, Number One?
DOUGLAS: ‘Number One’?
MARTIN: … Douglas.
RUTH: And when will we be getting under way, might I ask?
DOUGLAS: Ah. Of course, not having seen your sister for so long, it’s possible you may have missed
certain subtle signs just now that would warn the experienced Carolyn-watcher not to bank on seeing
Helsinki today. Sorry to rain on your parade, Martin.
MARTIN: No-no-no, my parade’s fine. Bone dry. Bad news for the import/export parade, though, I’d have
thought. I wonder how long fresh orchids keep?
DOUGLAS: Ah. Excuse me for a moment.

CAROLYN: And how did you even pay for it?

ARTHUR: With a credit card online.
CAROLYN: You don’t have a credit card.
ARTHUR: Your credit card.
CAROLYN: My credit card?!
ARTHUR: No, no, because it doesn’t matter, because it’s your plane, so you’re just paying yourself! It’s
free!
CAROLYN: The fuel’s not free. The landing fees are not free. The business we would have had if Mr.
Arthur ‘Idiot’ Milliner hadn’t been hogging the plane isn’t free!
(Galley curtain opens.)
CAROLYN: Ah, Douglas, good. Arthur, go and tell Ruth and her hangers-on to sling their collective hook.
ARTHUR: Okay. Sorry, Mum.
(Door closes.)
CAROLYN: And Douglas, cancel the flight plan.
DOUGLAS: Are you sure?
CAROLYN: Of course I’m sure! I’m not spending time and fuel taking my rotten sister on a jolly to
Finland.
DOUGLAS: You know best … but she did come all this way.
CAROLYN: Because she smelled a freebie!
DOUGLAS: Maybe. She still came, though. And then there’s Arthur – internet booking, pseudonyms,
secret phone calls to Lancashire. That’s a lot of work he put in – especially for an idiot.
CAROLYN: Douglas, call me a cynical old bat …
(Douglas draws in a breath.)
CAROLYN: Don’t even think about it – but is it entirely without the bounds of possibility that you have an
ulterior motive for this trip going ahead?
DOUGLAS: Carolyn, I hope you know me better than that. At any given moment I never have fewer
than sevenulterior motives under way; but even so …
CAROLYN: Would I have to talk to her?
DOUGLAS: Flying her to Finland in silence might seem a little eccentric.

RUTH: … and not just for the petrol, mind; there’s Philip’s loss of earnings to think of; there’s general
wear and tear …
(Door opens.)
CAROLYN: So. Ruth.
RUTH: I’m sorry – is somebody talking to me?
CAROLYN: Yes. I’m talking to you.
RUTH: Well. Thank you.
CAROLYN: For what?
RUTH: For accepting you were in the wrong.
CAROLYN: I didn’t!
RUTH: Well, you implicitly did by being the first to speak.
CAROLYN: No I didn’t!
RUTH: Well, you did, so apology accepted.
CAROLYN: Apology not given.
RUTH: Apology still accepted. Now, what did you want?
CAROLYN: All I want is to tell you exactly where you can go, Ruth, and that is …
DOUGLAS (mildly): Carolyn.
CAROLYN: … to Helsinki. Would you … would you like to go to Helsinki?
RUTH: Well, I suppose now we’re here – and you’ve apologised …
CAROLYN: I haven’t.
RUTH: All right, then.
CAROLYN (not happily): Good.
RUTH: Yes.
ARTHUR: Hooray!
MARTIN: Incidentally, Arthur: why on earth Helsinki?
ARTHUR: Oh, I’ve just always wanted to go to Helsinki. It sounds really fun!
MARTIN: What have you ever heard about Helsinki?
ARTHUR: Nothing! I mean the name! Helsinki! How could you not have fun in Helsinki! It’s like half-
helter-skelter and half-twinkly!
DOUGLAS: I’ve always thought it sounds like a sink in hell.
ARTHUR: Oh, now you’ve spoiled it.

FITTON ATC (over radio): Golf Tango India, join the visual circuit at three thousand feet; turn left, follow
your nose, and if you get lost, stop and ask.
DOUGLAS: Yes, thank you, Karl. Roger.
(Radio off. Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Er, chaps. Er, little chap here said, er, you said he could come up.
KIERAN: I’m not a little chap!
ARTHUR: Yes you are.
MARTIN: Oh yes! Come on in, Kieran.
ARTHUR: Er, Skipper says you can go in.
KIERAN: Yes, I heard him.
ARTHUR: Um, it’s my job to tell you.
KIERAN: What a stupid job!
ARTHUR: No, you’ve got a stupid job.
KIERAN: I’m at school.
ARTHUR (defensively): … Yeah.
(Flight deck door closes.)
MARTIN: Kieran! Hello. Sit yourself down there. We call that the jump seat.
KIERAN: Yes, I know.
MARTIN: Okay. So, this array of screens and dials might look very imposing, but it’s actually not
so verydifferent …
(Kieran begins to chuckle and continues to do so.)
MARTIN: … from your … dad’s … car. What?
KIERAN: I’m sorry. It’s just I have Microsoft Flight Simulator X Deluxe edition. I do three to four hours’
training every day.
DOUGLAS: Playing, you mean.
KIERAN: No – I use it as a training tool.
DOUGLAS: Mmm, but it’s a game, so … playing.
KIERAN: Anyway, I’m-I’m probably familiar with more flight instrument layouts than you are.
MARTIN (laughing): Well, I doubt it, actually. I’ve also got Flight Simulator.
KIERAN: Oh, which edition?
MARTIN (hesitantly): … Ninety-five.
KIERAN: And how often do you train on it?
DOUGLAS: Play on it.
MARTIN: Most days.
DOUGLAS: Hang on, hang on, Martin. You come home after ten or twelve hours’ flying an aeroplane
and then, to wind down, you sit in front of a computer and pretend to fly an aeroplane?
KIERAN: Perfectly sensible procedure. Allows you to revise infrequently-met hazards.
MARTIN: Yes! Exactly! You see, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: I see that your life meets with the approval of the obsessive fourteen year old boy.
KIERAN: “Obsessive” is just a word the disorganised use for the focussed.
DOUGLAS: It’s not the only word they use.
MARTIN: Ignore him! Just ignore him. Now then: what did you want to ask me?
KIERAN: Er … (he clears his throat) … well. Let me start by getting an idea of your hinterland. What are
your outside interests?
MARTIN (slowly): Outside of what?
KIERAN: Outside flying.
MARTIN: Outside flying?
KIERAN: Yes.
MARTIN: You mean, what else am I interested in apart from flying?
KIERAN: Yeah. Like, er, for instance, I have grade seven lute, and I’m not even gonna take grade eight,
’cause my tutor says I’d be better off spending the time getting to concert standard.
MARTIN: W-well, no, I don’t play the lute …
KIERAN: And I’m an orange belt in karate.
DOUGLAS: Orange! Scariest of all the colours.
KIERAN: Yeah, well, it’s scary enough that I’m classified as a deadly weapon, and actually forbidden by
law from using my skills except in self defence.
DOUGLAS: Goodness! How you must long for someone to clip you round the ear.
MARTIN: Douglas!

RUTH: So: this is your husband’s famous executive jet.

CAROLYN (drifting into a northern English accent): It’s not an executive jet; he’s not my husband; and
it’s nothis – but otherwise, spot on.
RUTH: Mmm. Queer little thing, isn’t it? Is the wing supposed to be doing that?
CAROLYN: Yes, it is.
RUTH: And this noise is normal, is it?
CAROLYN: Perfectly normal.
RUTH: And … is this supposed to come off?
CAROLYN: Yes … No. Give it to me.
RUTH: How is your ex-husband, anyway?
CAROLYN: You know very well I don’t talk to him.
RUTH: Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that ex-husband. I meant your other ex-husband.
CAROLYN: He’s fine – I believe.
RUTH: Oh good. I always liked Ian.
CAROLYN: Yes, I remember.
RUTH: Sorry to put my foot in it. I forgot you have such a complicated life.
CAROLYN: I wouldn’t call it a complicated life.
RUTH: Oh, wouldn’t you? What would you call it, then?
CAROLYN: A life.
(Door opens.)
ARTHUR: Hello, Ma! Hello, Aunty Ruth! Catching up? Great. Er, would you like a drink? Orange juice?
Coke?
CAROLYN: I would like a triple Scotch, and I would very much like to be the one that fetches it.
(Sound of her leaving the area.)
ARTHUR (quietly): Oh, that’s-that’s brilliant, actually. Um, Aunty Ruth, where’s the cake?
RUTH: What cake?
ARTHUR: The birthday cake. Mum’s birthday cake.
RUTH: Well, I don’t know.
ARTHUR: But didn’t you get my email asking you to bring a cake?
RUTH: Yes, I got it. I didn’t reply, though, did I?
ARTHUR: I just thought you might like to bring a cake.
RUTH: Why – because I’m just some stay-at-home housewife who’d be only all too ever so pleased to
do the baking for Little Miss Businesswoman Carolyn?
ARTHUR: No! I-I don’t know! I’m sorry! I-I just wanted to surprise Mum with a cake.
RUTH: Then you should have bought a cake, shouldn’t you?
ARTHUR: Yes I should!
RUTH: Well, then!

MARTIN: And that, I think, basically, is-is-is the, er, the-the-the situation in broad terms.
KIERAN: Right. In future, it’s fine just to say you don’t know. Okay, next question …
DOUGLAS: No, I don’t think so. Time for you to pop back off to your granny, I rather think.
KIERAN: But I haven’t finished!
MARTIN: Yes you have. Douglas is quite right. We’re very busy up here.
KIERAN: But, Captain, I wanted to ask the secret of your enormous success.
MARTIN: Er, would you say enormous success?
KIERAN: Of course! Command position by thirty-two – that’s remarkable! And there’s always something
to learn from the remarkable.
MARTIN: Yes, well, I suppose that’s true. I-I wouldn’t say it myself but, um … well, that’s the English
disease, isn’t it? We don’t celebrate our success; we don’t blow our own trumpet.
DOUGLAS: Can I just say, sir, how inspiring it’s been to watch you fight that disease?
KIERAN: Er, so: first things first. Which flying school did you go to?
MARTIN: Ah, you see, my story’s even more remarkable than that. I actually put myself through my PPL
and CPL.
KIERAN: Interesting. You didn’t even think it was worth applying?
MARTIN: Oh, well, I did apply.
KIERAN: And turned down their offer?
MARTIN: I didn’t – I didn’t get an offer as such, at the time.
KIERAN: Not “as such”?
MARTIN: … All right, not at all! So what? I did it the hard way. I did menial jobs and night shifts
for years to save up for the flying hours and the instrument rating and … then I saved up all over again
to do the re-take.
KIERAN: You failed your instrument rating?
MARTIN: I passed it eventually.
(Short pause.)
KIERAN: Good for you. Anyway, um, I’m sorry to have wasted your time. I’ll leave you in peace now.
MARTIN: What? No! Don’t be like that! I’m a captain at thirty-two! We just agreed that was impressive!
KIERAN: Hmm – it’s just your career template isn’t a close fit with my own.
MARTIN: Oh? And what’s your career template?
KIERAN (clearing his throat briefly and then rattling off his plan): Christ’s College, Cambridge; RAF
scholarship; two tours of duty; conversion course at Oxford Air Training; twenty years with major airline;
retire at forty-five; enter politics; reach Cabinet level within six parliamentary terms.
DOUGLAS: And when will it be our pride and privilege to have you as Prime Minister?
KIERAN: I assure you I have no Prime Ministerial ambitions – unless my colleagues insist that that is
where my duty lies.
DOUGLAS: Oh God. You’re probably gonna make it, aren’t you?

(Galley curtain opens.)

DOUGLAS: Ah, hello, Arthur. Kettle on?
ARTHUR (sounding less bouncy than usual): Oh, er, you should’ve rung. I’d have-I’d have made it.
DOUGLAS: No, I wanted a little respite from Junior Mussolini. What on earth are you doing?
ARTHUR: … I’m making a cake.
DOUGLAS: Are you? Right. Out of … mud and gravel.
ARTHUR: Chocolate mousse. We had six individual chocolate mousses left over from Cyprus. I thought
if I kind of ground up these amaretto biscuits in them and then put it in a dish on top of the toasted
sandwich maker, it would make a sort of …
DOUGLAS: Ah. It didn’t though, did it?
ARTHUR: No.
DOUGLAS: And what’s behind this sudden enthusiasm for patisserie?
ARTHUR: Mum’s birthday! I really wanted to surprise her with a cake.
DOUGLAS: I think you’ll definitely surprise her with that one.

(In an airport)
CUSTOMS OFFICER (male, Finnish accent): Er, hello, please, sir, welcome to Helsinki. Your passports,
please.
RUTH: Good lord! This is Helsinki Airport? I didn’t realise Helsinki was some two-bit town in the middle
of nowhere. I wouldn’t have come.
CUSTOMS OFFICER: Madam, I can assure you Helsinki is a super-fabulous modern city
with two international airports.
RUTH: Oh? And this is the smaller one?
CUSTOMS OFFICER: This is neither of them. This is Rautavaara Airfield.
MARTIN (quietly): Er, Carolyn, I, er, I-I-I assumed you’d want the cheapest landing fees, and Mr. Milliner
didn’t specify – well, no, obviously “Mr. Milliner” didn’t specify …
CAROLYN: No, it’s fine!
RUTH: So, you brought us all this way to sit in an airport for four hours?
CAROLYN: Look, it wasn’t my idea in the first place!
RUTH (her voice fading as she walks away): I’ve seen everything now, I really have.
CUSTOMS OFFICER: Who is next, please?
ARTHUR: Has she gone? Hi.
CUSTOMS OFFICER (stamping his passport): Okay, in you go … Oh! Oh-ho, oh. What is this strange
leaky box?
ARTHUR (confidentially): It’s a secret.
CUSTOMS OFFICER: Okay – you know an airport is not a good place to bring secret things into? Let us
have a little look inside …
(He opens the box and cries out in surprise.)
CUSTOMS OFFICER: Herra Isä! [Literally translates as ‘Lord Father’; in English we would probably say,
‘Good God!’] What is this, please?!
ARTHUR: It’s a cake.
CUSTOMS OFFICER: It does not look like a cake.
ARTHUR: I know. I added powdered milk to make it less runny .. and it didn’t make it less runny. It just
made it bigger, and gave it a funny sort of smell. But it is a cake.
CUSTOMS OFFICER: Sadly, er, this cake is not welcome to Finland.
ARTHUR: What?
CUSTOMS OFFICER: You can’t bring it in. We have very strict rules about importing foods, and this
definitely does not fit into any category we have – or will ever have.
DOUGLAS: Milo!
CUSTOMS OFFICER/MILO: Ah, Dooglass!
DOUGLAS: My dear old friend! You don’t look a day older than when we first met on that
English/Finland school exchange.
(Milo chuckles.)
DOUGLAS: And to celebrate those dear old days – and because luckily I am enormously confident in
my masculinity – I have bought you a bunch of flowers.
MILO: And, er, for my part, I have remembered how much you loved our various fishes of the sea and,
er, I have brought you fourteen boxes of them.
DOUGLAS: What a thoughtful gift! Now, what’s the problem with young Arthur here?
MILO: Er, the boy is trying to bring in this bowl of … this mainly chocolate thing with … This we do not
allow.
DOUGLAS: Ah, I see. But surely if he pays the new Anglo/Scandinavian Mainly Chocolate Thing import
tax I heard about on the news …
MILO: Ah, yes, yes, yes, of course. Er, one hundred Euros, please.
DOUGLAS: One hundred? I heard it was about fifty.
MILO: No, no, it is a hundred.
DOUGLAS: Well, I was surprised when I heard it, so the next time it was mentioned, I
listened really hard, and Idefinitely heard that it was seventy-five.
MILO: Okay, seventy-five Euros, please.
ARTHUR: Thanks, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: My pleasure.

(Door opens.)
MARTIN: Why, Douglas? Why do we have to go in the café?
KIERAN: It’s not even open.
DOUGLAS: It’s for Arthur’s surprise. He’s hiding behind that counter. He’s going to leap out with his sort-
of a cake.
ARTHUR: Hi, chaps!
DOUGLAS: So you two wait here and start singing when I bring Carolyn in.
(Martin sighs with exasperation. The door closes.)
MARTIN: So, Kieran. Suppose while we wait, d’you have any other questions for me?
KIERAN: Thanks. I’m fine.
MARTIN: You sure?
KIERAN: Mmm, yes. I’m afraid I rather miscalibrated your utility as a resource.
MARTIN: No you didn’t! You said yourself, being a captain at thirty-two is “remarkable”. That’s the exact
word you used.
KIERAN: Well, that does puzzle me. How old are the other captains?
MARTIN: What other captains?
KIERAN: In the airline.
MARTIN: I’m the only captain.
KIERAN: But … how does that work? You’d have to go on every flight.
MARTIN: Yes, of course. We’re the pilots.
(Door opens.)
DOUGLAS: All right? Everyone ready?
KIERAN (laughing sarcastically): So when you say that you’re the captain, you mean you’re the captain
out of the two of you?
MARTIN: Yes. What’s so funny about that?
KIERAN (still amused): Nothing, nothing. I’m … Of course, that makes sense of everything.
MARTIN: What do you mean, “everything”?
KIERAN: Well, the flying school rejection, the instrument rating failure, just the general … way you are.
MARTIN (furiously): You little …
DOUGLAS: Martin!
KIERAN: Imagine, though: all this time I actually thought you were a proper captain!
MARTIN (angrily): Right!
DOUGLAS: Martin, no.
(Sound of a hand striking the side of a head. Kieran cries out.)
DOUGLAS: Oh dear. That’s really bad.
MARTIN (apologetically): Oh no. I-I’m sorry. I’m s… I’m really sorry.
KIERAN: You hit me!
DOUGLAS: Ah, come on. It was just a little clip round the ear.
KIERAN: Which means I can do this. Ki-ya!
(Martin screams as he is struck.)
MARTIN: No!
KIERAN: Ki-ya!
(Another blow falls.)
MARTIN (screaming): Ah, no, please!
KIERAN: Ya!
MARTIN: Ahh, please! Stop! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!
KIERAN: Ya!
(Martin cries out as the blows continue to fall. The door opens.)
CAROLYN: What on earth is going on?!
RUTH: Kieran! Not again! Stop that this instant!
(Martin sobs.)
KIERAN: No-no, Granny, it’s all right, it’s all right. He hit me first, honest!
RUTH: Of course he didn’t hit you first! Your Great-Aunt may put on a lot of airs about this tuppenny-
ha’penny little outfit, but even she wouldn’t employ pilots who hit children.
CAROLYN: Oh God.
KIERAN: He did! He did! He hit me! Douglas, didn’t he hit me?
DOUGLAS: He may have given you a little clip round the ear.
KIERAN: Yeah! He hit me! He gave me a hit in the ear!
MARTIN: Clip round! Not-not a hit in; a clip round!
RUTH: You! You hit my grandson?
MARTIN: He seems okay.
RUTH: You hit a defenceless child?
MARTIN: He’s not defenceless! He’s definitely not that.
RUTH: Right. You can expect to hear from my solicitors.
CAROLYN: Oh, don’t talk rot. The boy’s absolutely fine.
RUTH: This is child abuse! This could go to the Court of Human Rights!
DOUGLAS: I really don’t think it could.
CAROLYN: You can’t sue me. I should sue you for what your little boy’s done to my pilot.
MARTIN: No, please, don’t do that. I-I really don’t want you to do that.
RUTH: You’ve done it again, haven’t you, Carol?
CAROLYN: Carolyn.
RUTH: You’ve done what you always do. You’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Run an airline? You
couldn’t run a sweet shop!
CAROLYN (in full northern accent): I didn’t want to run the sweet shop. And I never said it was an airline.
It’s a charter plane, and I can run it. I’ve run it for twelve years.
RUTH: Yes, and look at the state of it. Your plane’s falling to bits; you’ve a Nissen hut for an office; and
you’ve a daft pilot who fights children. You’ve messed it up, Carol. You’ve made a muck of it, just like at
school, and with the shop, and with both your marriages.
CAROLYN (upset): I-I-I don’t … You can’t …
ARTHUR (frantically): Hey! Shut up! You … horrible aunt!
RUTH: Er, what are you doing here? And what on earth is that bowl of mud?!
ARTHUR (angrily): It’s … a … cake!
(Splat!)
(Ruth screams.)
DOUGLAS: And he’s just surprised you with it.

SWEDEN AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL (over radio): Roger, Golf Tango India, continue as cleared.
MARTIN: Thank you, Sweden.
(Radio off.)
DOUGLAS: So, what do we think of Helsinki, on balance? Twinkly helter-skelter, or sink of hell?
MARTIN and CAROLYN: Sink of hell.
DOUGLAS: Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.
MARTIN: Carolyn abandoned her sister and great-nephew in an airfield; Arthur paid seventy-five Euros
for a bowl of sludge and threw at his aunt.
DOUGLAS: And you hit a child.
MARTIN: Yes.
CAROLYN: And were beaten up by a child.
MARTIN: Yes.
DOUGLAS: The same child.
MARTIN: All right, Douglas! I was there.
DOUGLAS: Yes you were … on the ground, squealing for mercy.
MARTIN (through gritted teeth): All right!
(Knock on the flight deck door.)
ARTHUR (from outside): Are you ready?
DOUGLAS: Ready! Martin, dim the lights.
MARTIN: Right.
(Click as he turns the flight deck lights off. The door opens.)
ARTHUR (singing): ♪ Happy birthday to you … ♪
(Martin and Douglas join in.)
ARTHUR, MARTIN and DOUGLAS: ♪ Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Carolyn/Mum!
Happy birthday to you! ♪
CAROLYN: Oh, my goodness! Well, you certainly have surprised me with a cake.
DOUGLAS: Thought we might.
CAROLYN: Perhaps what’s most surprising about it is that it’s a fishcake.
ARTHUR: Yes! You see, Douglas said you actually probably were expecting a normal cake a bit, weren’t
you?
CAROLYN: A bit, maybe.
ARTHUR: Yeah! So even if we had one – and we don’t have one – it wouldn’t be a proper surprise,
whereas this would be.
CAROLYN: Yes, it is! And-and these …
ARTHUR: They didn’t have candles in the airport shop. Er, they only had …
CAROLYN: … cigarettes.
ARTHUR: Yeah, yeah. And there’s only twenty because …
CAROLYN: … they come in packs of twenty.
ARTHUR: Well, partly that, but also, as it turns out, that’s as many cigarettes as you can stick in a
fishcake.
DOUGLAS: Every day a new nugget of knowledge.
CAROLYN: It’s lovely, Arthur. Thank you very much indeed.
ARTHUR: You’re welcome.
CAROLYN: And thank you for my orchids, Martin. They’re beautiful … though not quite as plentiful as
the ones I saw Douglas giving that customs officer he’s in love with.
DOUGLAS: Though, interestingly, about the same price. Oh, and here’s my present.
CAROLYN: I thought you’d forgotten.
DOUGLAS: Oh, you didn’t fall for that, did you? No – my present can be seen if you look out to your
right.
MARTIN and CAROLYN (awestruck): Ohhh!
CAROLYN: They’re beautiful!
MARTIN: Wow! I’ve never seen them before.
DOUGLAS: Pretty, aren’t they?
ARTHUR: What? What are we looking at?
DOUGLAS: Your other right, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Oh, wow! Brilliant!
CAROLYN: Though I’m not sure you can claim to have arranged for the Northern Lights to be switched
on for me.
DOUGLAS: All I’m saying is: if anyone you knew could, who would it be?
CAROLYN: Well, thank you very much.
ARTHUR (sadly): They’ve rather put my fishcake in the shade.
DOUGLAS: It is, of course, a joint present from the two of us.
MARTIN: Hey!
DOUGLAS: All right, the three of us.
(Flight deck door opens.)
PHILIP (northern English accent): Erm, hello.
CAROLYN: Philip! We … we didn’t know you were back there!
DOUGLAS: Rigorous cross-check of the cabin, was it, Arthur?
CAROLYN: Philip, I-I don’t know how to tell you this. We-we’ve left Ruth and Kieran in Helsinki.
PHILIP: Oh. Well done you. (He chuckles.)
DOUGLAS: Hang on: I thought you were deaf?
PHILIP: Shh. It’s a secret.

SEASON 2 – EPISODE 2: Gdansk

(Flight deck door opens.)
MARTIN: Hello, Carolyn.
CAROLYN: Listen to this! This chamber orchestra we’re picking up – listen to what their conductor’s put
under ‘Any Special Requirements’: “The first violins will not sit together; the second violins will not sit
apart. The harpist will ignore you unless your aura is orange; there is nothing you can do to make your
aura more orange. The tubist must on no account be given alcohol; the conductor must at all times be
given alcohol. He will also require the toilet to himself for an hour before landing. And, most importantly,
the bassoonist, Madame Szyszko-Bohusz, will be working under the presumption that you are trying to
kill her unless proved otherwise, so avoid approaching her with blunt instruments, sharp knives or hot
liquids.” Terrific! How am I supposed to serve her dinner?
DOUGLAS: Carefully.

This week: Gdansk!

MARTIN (into radio): Amsterdam, Golf Tango India. With you flight level three-three-zero.
AMSTERDAM ATC: Golf Tango India, radar identified. Continue as cleared.
ARTHUR: Okay, here’s another list. Uh, everyone ready? Get set: the Seven Deadly Sins.
MARTIN: Yes! I know these! I know them!
(Sound of frantic scribbling.)
DOUGLAS: Ah, the deadly sin of Pride.
MARTIN: Stop it, Douglas! You’re making it easier for Carolyn!
DOUGLAS: Ah, the deadly sin of Envy.
MARTIN: Douglas, stop it now.
DOUGLAS: Ah, the deadly sin of Anger!
MARTIN: Stop it!
CAROLYN: Done!
MARTIN (making an angry noise): Douglas was distracting me!
DOUGLAS: And done.
MARTIN: Oh!
ARTHUR: Okay, let’s see. Um, yeah, Douglas got ’em all.
MARTIN: (exasperated sigh)
ARTHUR: Uh, Mum’s got … oh. Sorry, Mum, there’s no Wrath. (He pronounces it ‘rath’.)
CAROLYN: You mean Wrath. (She pronounces it ‘roth’.) Of course there is.
ARTHUR: No, I’m sorry. According to this book there’s no Rath or Roth. And you’ve missed out Anger.
CAROLYN: That is Wrath, you idiot child! Have you never heard of Wrath?
DOUGLAS: You’ve certainly witnessed it often enough.
MARTIN: Sorry, Carolyn, we have to go by the book, I’m afraid, so I come second.
ARTHUR: Yeah, looks like it, Skip. Uh, let me just check … Oh, bad luck. You’ve got Lust down twice.
MARTIN: Oh, for …
DOUGLAS: Naughty Captain Crieff! Which one did he miss out?
ARTHUR: Uh, Pride.
DOUGLAS: Irony upon ironies.
MARTIN: Let’s do another. I’m gonna win this one.
DOUGLAS: Are you now? Then perhaps we should make it a little more interesting.
MARTIN: I’m not betting, Douglas. I’ve told you.
DOUGLAS: Why not?
MARTIN: Because I always … B-Because it’s beneath my dignity as a captain.
ARTHUR: I’ll bet with you, Douglas.
CAROLYN: No you won’t.
ARTHUR: Oh, but Mum …!
CAROLYN: Don’t “Oh, but Mum” me. Who owns your car?
ARTHUR: Douglas does.
CAROLYN: Well, then?
ARTHUR: He still lets me drive it.
DOUGLAS: And at a very competitive hourly rate.
MARTIN: All right, no-one’s betting anyone anything. Arthur, what is it?
ARTHUR (rifling through his book): Um …. okay, here’s one. On your marks, get set: the Seven
Dwarves.
(Sounds of scribbling.)
DOUGLAS: Martin, don’t forget Lusty.
MARTIN (through gritted teeth): Shut up!
CAROLYN: Done!
MARTIN: Oh, he distracted me again!
DOUGLAS: Done.
MARTIN: Oh … okay, this is unfair.
ARTHUR: Yeah, Douglas got ’em all.
MARTIN: (exasperated noise)
ARTHUR: And Mum’s got … oh, Mum! There’s no Loopy!
CAROLYN: Isn’t there? What’s his name, then, the stupid one?
ARTHUR: Well, I-I can’t tell you until Martin’s handed his in.
MARTIN: Oh, yes! I could still win!
DOUGLAS: I think you’ll find I won.
MARTIN: I could still come second!
DOUGLAS: Second from last.
MARTIN: I could still not lose.
CAROLYN: How many have you got?
MARTIN: Six.
CAROLYN: Ah, same as me. Have you got the stupid one?
MARTIN: Yes.
CAROLYN: What is it?
MARTIN: It’s … (He stops himself and laughs.) No! (He chuckles.)
CAROLYN: Well, it was worth a try. Um, Silly? Dummy? Dizzy? Ditzy? Arthur?
ARTHUR (indignantly): Mum!
(Someone’s service bell bongs three times.)
CAROLYN (exasperated): Oh, for God’s sake!
(The bell bongs again three times.)
CAROLYN: If those jumped-up buskers can’t learn to leave the service bell alone, I swear I’ll cut off their
thumbs!
DOUGLAS: Come fly the friendly skies.
CAROLYN: I’d better go. What was it, then, Arthur, the last Dwarf?
MARTIN: No, don’t tell her. I’m gonna remember my last one before you remember yours.
CAROLYN: Oh, for goodness’ sake, Martin, how childish. Don’t you dare help him, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Scout’s honour.
CAROLYN: Right, let’s see what the loonies want now. Ooh, Loony!
ARTHUR: No.

(The bell bongs again three times.)

CAROLYN: Madam. What seems to be the problem?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ (European accent – your guess is as good as mine what nationality
she’s supposed to be): Someone has tampered with my arm-rests. Who is responsible?
CAROLYN: Ah-ha. And you must be the bassoonist, Madame Szyszko … (She struggles with the
pronunciation.)
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Szyszko-Bohusz.
CAROLYN: Gesundheit.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: And how do you know I’m bassoonist? Have you been spying on me?
CAROLYN: No, madam, but your conductor described you rather vividly. And I won’t pretend it didn’t
help that you’re sitting next to a bassoon.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Never am I separated from my bassoon.
CAROLYN: Oh, the clingy type, is it? Now, then, what’s wrong with your arm-rests?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: You tell me what is wrong with arm-rests.
CAROLYN: With great pleasure. In a word: nothing. In six words: nothing is wrong with your arm-rests.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: That’s seven words.
CAROLYN: “Arm-rests” is hyphenated. Well, I’m glad we’ve had this chat. I’ll see you later.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Mine are higher than the others!
CAROLYN: I think not.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: But somebody’s tampered with them!
CAROLYN: May I ask who and why – or, if you prefer, whom and whym?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Listen. I am one of world’s leading bassoonists and, believe me, there
are many bassoonists who’d be very pleased to see me come to no good.
CAROLYN: And doubtless one or two cabin crew.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: So, what are you going to do?
CAROLYN: What am I going to do about your theory that, before take-off, a bassoonist or bassoonists
unknown broke into the aircraft, selected this seat, fractionally elevated the arm-rests and slunk off to
await the – to me – obscure but – to them – presumably inevitable and deadly consequences?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: … Yes.
CAROLYN: I am going to suggest you swap seats with your bassoon.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Ah.

MARTIN: Come on, Douglas.

DOUGLAS: No.
MARTIN: Please?
DOUGLAS: Sorry.
MARTIN: Just tell me! I’ve gotta get my last Dwarf before Carolyn gets hers.
DOUGLAS: There’s a phrase you don’t hear so much since the dwarf-hunting ban.
MARTIN: You don’t have to say anything. Just show me your list.
DOUGLAS: I couldn’t possibly. I gave Carolyn Scout’s honour.
MARTIN: You’re not a Scout!
DOUGLAS: You know what they say: once a Scout, always a Scout.
MARTIN: You were never a Scout.
DOUGLAS: You know what they say: never a Scout, always a Scout.
MARTIN: Come on, Douglas! I just want to win something for once!
DOUGLAS: Ah, well, if that’s what you want …
MARTIN: No.
DOUGLAS: … let’s see: twenty quid says …
MARTIN: No.
DOUGLAS: … the ATC at Warsaw is female.
MARTIN: Douglas, I told you, I’m not betting … Female?
DOUGLAS: Yep.
MARTIN: But they’re nearly all male.
DOUGLAS: Well, then, you’ll probably win, won’t you?
MARTIN: You must know something. You must somehow know who’s on duty.
DOUGLAS: How could I possibly know a thing like that? So, are we on?
MARTIN: Not for money.
DOUGLAS (sighing): Have it your way. I bet you the cheese tray.
MARTIN: Not the whole tray. The Emmental.
DOUGLAS: The Brie.
MARTIN: Fine. I bet you the Brie that Warsaw Control … is female.
DOUGLAS: No, I said I bet she’s female.
MARTIN: I know you did, but since you don’t know either way, you won’t mind taking the more likely bet,
will you?
DOUGLAS: No. No, I won’t.
MARTIN: Good! Then I bet you she’s female.
DOUGLAS: You’re on.
MARTIN (into radio): Warsaw Control, Golf Tango India. Could we have the latest Gdansk weather,
please?
WARSAW ATC (male): Golf Tango India …
MARTIN: Oh!
WARSAW ATC: Wind shifting twelve, three quarters visibility, scattered thunderclouds.
MARTIN (furious): Bloody hell!
WARSAW ATC: Well, I’m sorry. They’re quite little thunderclouds.
MARTIN: Roger, Warsaw.
(Radio off.)
MARTIN: I thought you knew it was a woman.
DOUGLAS: No. I just relied on you assuming I did. Never mind, Martin. You lose some …
(He pauses for a long moment.)
DOUGLAS: … don’t you?
MARTIN: The expression is, “You win some, you lose some.”
DOUGLAS: That’s the expression, yes.
MARTIN: Come on, I win things sometimes.
DOUGLAS: Do you, Captain?
MARTIN: Y-Yes I do, First Officer. Don’t forget that, hmm? If I’m such a loser, how come I’m the one with
four stripes on my arm?
DOUGLAS: Ah, there you have me.
MARTIN: Well, I am, and that’s when I’m at work, mind you, not just round the house to impress my wife.
DOUGLAS (furious): How dare you bring that up?
MARTIN (embarrassed): Douglas …
DOUGLAS: I revealed something deeply personal and private to you in a moment of vulnerability and
you use it as a cheap shot.
MARTIN: I’m really sorry, Douglas. I didn’t mean to … No, wait a minute, that’s not what happened. You
didn’t reveal anything to me. I caught you out by accident after you’d done everything you could to hide
it.
DOUGLAS: Nevertheless …
MARTIN: No, there’s no “nevertheless”. That makes it fair game. How’s it any different from all the things
you constantly tease me about, like my height, or the number of goes I took to get my CPL, or the time I
landed with the brakes on?
DOUGLAS: They’re all funny.
MARTIN: Well, it’s funny you pretending to your wife you’re a captain. It doesn’t stop it being funny just
because it’s about you.
DOUGLAS: Yes it does.
MARTIN: No it doesn’t!
(Service bell bongs five times.)
CAROLYN: Ms Szyszko-Bohusz, we meet again. Don’t be shy about ringing that service bell, by the
way. I don’t want you to be worried about annoying me.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: I’m not.
CAROLYN: Now that’s a weight off my mind. Now then, how can I help?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: What is this on my cashew nuts?
CAROLYN: Are you … can you be pointing at the salt?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: This does not look like the salt I know!
CAROLYN: And what does it look like? Tiny transparent hand grenades?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: It looks like broken glass!
CAROLYN: It’s salt!
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Salt does not look this way! Salt is little round balls. These are big
jagged …
CAROLYN: Oh, for pity’s sake!
(Sound of Carolyn snatching up a cashew and, presumably, putting it in her mouth.)
CAROLYN: Satisfied?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: You have eaten my cashews.
CAROLYN: I have eaten one of your cashews.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: There were only five in the packet.
CAROLYN: Now there are only four.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Can I have more cashews?
CAROLYN: My pleasure. With salt or broken glass?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Salt. With salt. Only with salt!
CAROLYN: I will make a note of it.

AMSTERDAM ATC (over radio): Golf Tango India, contact Maastricht on frequency one-two-six decimal
five.
(Silence.)
AMSTERDAM ATC: Golf Tango India, this is Amsterdam, do you read me?
(Silence.)
AMSTERDAM ATC: Golf Tango India, this is Amsterdam. I say again, do you read me?
(Sound of Martin violently and noisily exhaling. He gasps a couple of times.)
MARTIN (breathless): Golf Tango India. Apologies, Amsterdam. Microphone intermittent. Roger
Maastricht on one-two-six decimal five.
(He groans as he catches his breath. Douglas exhales noisily.)
DOUGLAS: Oh, bad luck, Captain.
MARTIN: Look, that doesn’t count. I was answering ATC.
DOUGLAS: Sorry, Martin. The bet was just who could hold their breath longest. So that’s the Brie,
Roquefort and the squidgy one in the foil packet to me.
(Martin groans plaintively.)
DOUGLAS: Just the Emmental and the crackers still in play.
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Coffee, gents? And, uh, message from Mum: have you forgotten to turn the seatbelt signs off,
you pair of … Have you forgotten to turn the seatbelt signs off?
DOUGLAS: No, no, not forgotten, no.
ARTHUR: Oh! Passenger Derby?!
DOUGLAS: We thought so, yes.
ARTHUR: Great! Can I do the commentary?
DOUGLAS: If you’d be so kind.
ARTHUR: Brilliant! Hang on.
(Flight deck door closes. Beep from the intercom.)
ARTHUR (over intercom): Okay, chaps, ready.
MARTIN: So this is for the Emmental?
DOUGLAS: Well … Arthur? What are the puddings today?
ARTHUR: Oh, um, strudel and cheesecake.
DOUGLAS: Perfect. Martin, I see your Emmental and I raise you my cheesecake.
MARTIN: I see your cheesecake with my strudel.
DOUGLAS: Excellent! All right, Arthur, take us through the runners and riders.
ARTHUR: Thank you, Douglas! Well, welcome to the five thirty-five from … up in the air. The conditions
are perfect, the seatbelt sign’s been on for over forty minutes, I’ve been round with the drinks trolley
twice, and they’re really squirming for the off. The favourites, of course, are the runners in Row A – today
the trombone player who looks like Winston Churchill and the little clarinettist with the head that’s too big
for him. Who do you want, Skip?
MARTIN: Who looks keenest?
ARTHUR: Well, they’re both pretty wriggly. Uh, but the trombonist is making little meowing noises.
MARTIN: I’ll take him.
ARTHUR: Uh, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Where’s the older lady in the Harry Potter glasses?
ARTHUR: Uh, Row C.
DOUGLAS: Okay, I’ll take her. I happened to watch her claiming overhead luggage space and it was a
very promising display. Some really useful elbow work.
MARTIN: Ah, well, it’s not fair if you’ve already …
DOUGLAS: Too late.
(‘Bing’ as he turns off the seatbelt sign.)
ARTHUR: And they’re off! And it’s Trombone Churchill taking an early lead. He had his seatbelt undone
behind his paper. Classic manoeuvre there. But he’s slow out of the chair and it’s Little Bighead who’s up
in the aisle first. Little Bighead looking strong but, oh! He’s tangled with a stray cellist! And now
Trombone Churchill’s making up ground! But who’s this streaking up on the outside? It’s Harry Potter’s
Granny! She’s past Little Bighead, she’s past Wandering Cellist! And in the final straight it’s neck and
neck between Trombone Churchill and Potter’s Gran! Potter’s Gran and Trombone Churchill as they
reach the door and oh! Trombone Churchill takes an elbow to the gut and it’s Potter’s Gran! She’s in and
she’s safe!
DOUGLAS: Yes!
MARTIN: Nooo!
ARTHUR: Bad luck, Skip. Not your day.
MARTIN (miserably): Not my life.

ARTHUR: Good evening, madam. Beef or trout?

FEMALE PASSENGER: Beef, please.
ARTHUR: And for you, madam? Beef or trout?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Who are you?
ARTHUR: Arthur. Oh, I mean, um, my name is Arthur, I’m privileged to be serving yourself as part of your
onboard team onboard today onboard.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: No. No, this is no good. Where is the old woman?
ARTHUR: … Right. I don’t know who you mean by that, madam, but I wouldn’t call her an old woman.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ (calling out): Old woman!
ARTHUR: Oh dear.
(The service bell dings repeatedly.)
CAROLYN: Yes, yes, yes, ring out wild bells in the wild sky.
(The bell continues dinging.)
CAROLYN: And who, I wonder, is the wild bell ringer? Who could it possibly be?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: It’s me, it’s me! See, my light is on!
CAROLYN: And yet nobody’s home. My dear Ms Szyszko-Bohusz, how can I help you?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: This boy. Who is this boy? I have not seen this boy before.
CAROLYN: And your theory, no doubt, is that the Bassoonist Black-Hand Gang, having been cruelly
foiled in the matter of the arm-rests and the cashew nuts, have sent him to serve you a poisoned trout.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Do you not believe I have enemies?
CAROLYN: On the contrary, I find that astonishingly easy to believe. This, however, is not one of them.
This is my son Arthur, and I promise you he couldn’t hurt a fly.
ARTHUR: Thanks, Mum!
CAROLYN: Because the fly would outwit him. If you will excuse me, I have a violinist fight to arbitrate.
Ooh, and Arthur, Goofy?
ARTHUR: What?
CAROLYN: The thing we were talking about earlier in the flight deck. The last one of seven. It’s Goofy,
isn’t it?
ARTHUR: Oh! No, Mum. Goofy! (He laughs.)
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: What was that? What’s going on?
CAROLYN: Oh, nothing, nothing, doesn’t matter.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: It’s a code, isn’t it? What does it mean? What’s happening?
CAROLYN: No, really, nothing.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Do you think I don’t know about these codes? I know all about them.
Inspector Sands: fire in the theatre. Mr. Westman: bomb on a train. What’s Goofy?
CAROLYN: It was just a private remark …
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: What does it mean? You must tell me now.
CAROLYN: Yes, you’re quite right. That’s what we do. We alert crew to emergencies, not with the
convenient intercom in the galley but by furtively whispering the names of Disney characters at each
other. “Donald Duck” means ‘lethal bird strike’; “Dumbo” means ‘pilot’s dropped his magic feather’;
“Shere Khan” means ‘tiger in the flight deck’ … You happy now?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: No. What is Goofy?
CAROLYN: Goofy is a cartoon cow.
ARTHUR: Mum! He’s a dog!

(Flight deck door opens.)

ARTHUR: Here we are, gents. Uh, cheesecake for you, Douglas, and strudel for you … Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Thank you, Arthur, and thank you, Martin.
MARTIN (sulkily): Enjoy it. I didn’t want it anyway.
DOUGLAS: Isn’t that lucky?
MARTIN: I mean it. Strudel’s horrible. No-one likes strudel.
DOUGLAS: I refute your argument thus: strudel’s terrific. Everyone likes strudel.
MARTIN: All right, then. I bet you more of the passengers choose cheesecake than strudel.
DOUGLAS: Very well. I bet you twenty quid more of the punters pick strudel than cheesecake.
ARTHUR: There you go, Skip, your luck’s changing. You can’t lose this one. Cheesecake’s always more
popular.
MARTIN: Oh no. Must be a trick. He must know something.
DOUGLAS: What could I possibly know?
MARTIN: Well, I dunno. The orchestra’s sponsored by the Anglo-Polish Strudel Appreciation Society, or
the International League Against Cheesecake.
DOUGLAS: Well, you can take strudel if you like.
MARTIN: Yes, I’ll take strudel.
DOUGLAS: Fine.
MARTIN: No, hang on, this is how you diddled me with the female Air Traffic Controllers.
ARTHUR: Crikey!
MARTIN: You made me pick the bad bet. You want me to pick strudel. I want cheesecake.
DOUGLAS: Fine. It’s yours.
MARTIN: Hang on! That was too easy! You knew I’d work that out! I want strudel.
DOUGLAS: Are you sure?
MARTIN: Yes. No! Yes! So therefore … no. No. Yes! Strudel?
DOUGLAS: Strudel? All right, then, you’re on.
MARTIN (despairingly): Oh God! I’ve ended up with strudel! No-one likes strudel!
DOUGLAS: Seems an odd choice, certainly. I’d have picked cheesecake.
MARTIN: (frustrated sound)
ARTHUR: Cheer up, Skipper. You never know your luck.
MARTIN: I always know my luck.
ARTHUR: Well, I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Skip.
MARTIN: Yes. Arthur, what are you doing with your face?
ARTHUR: I’m winking.
MARTIN: You’re only supposed to use one eye.
ARTHUR: I know, but I can only do that if I hold the other one open with my finger, and I thought
Douglas would notice.
DOUGLAS: You’re making the mistake of thinking Douglas cares.

ARTHUR: Cheesecake or strudel, madam? And may I especially recommend the strudel? It’s a lovely
strudel.
FEMALE PASSENGER: Yes, all right, the strudel.
ARTHUR: Good choice! And-and for you, madam? There’s our splendid strudel – tender delicious slices
of piping hot apple with a rich golden-brown crust; or a bit of old cheesecake.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: What’s the cheesecake like?
ARTHUR: Well, you know, cheesecakey. They’re all much of a muchness, cheesecakes, aren’t they?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: What flavour is it?
ARTHUR: I don’t know. I’m not sure it even has a flavour. Cheesecake flavour. The strudel is apple.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: It must have a flavour.
ARTHUR: Uh, let’s see. “Rasp-berry.” Eugh. Sounds awful.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: “Raspberry.”
ARTHUR: Oh, yeah. Still. Boring!
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: I’ll have the cheesecake, please.
ARTHUR (whispering): Don’t have the cheesecake.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: What? Why not?
ARTHUR (whispering): I can’t tell you why, but don’t!
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ (binging her service bell repeatedly): Everybody! Stop eating the
cheesecake! It’s poisoned! The cheesecake is poisoned!
(Murmurs of concern from the passengers.)
CAROLYN: Uh, ladies-ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, if I can have your attention for a
moment. I must apologise for my junior cabin attendant’s slightly over-zealous promotion of the strudel
today. What can I say? The boy loves a strudel, and the strudel is certainly excellent – as, however, is
the cheesecake. They are both delicious and non-poisonous choices. Thank you.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: You eat some, then.
CAROLYN: I beg your pardon?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: If it’s so safe, let’s see you eat a slice. Now!
(Sounds of agreement from the passengers.)
MALE PASSENGER: You eat it!
CAROLYN: Arthur, eat some cheesecake.
ARTHUR: Best order ever!
(He tucks in.)
CAROLYN: You see? A revolting display but, I hope, a reassuring one.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Look, everyone! She won’t eat it! That must be what “Goofy” means.
It’s airline code for poison in the cheesecake!
CAROLYN: It’s not poisoned!
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Well, eat it, then.
MALE PASSENGER: Yes, go on!
CAROLYN: I don’t want to.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Ha!
MALE PASSENGER: Why not?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Yes, why not?
CAROLYN: Because it’s horrible, all right? It’s not poisoned, it’s just revolting. Tastes like the pink stuff
you bite into at the dentist, laid on a bed of fish tank gravel. And if it was ever even shown a picture of a
raspberry, it wasn’t looking. But it is not poisoned.

DOUGLAS: A little underhand, wasn’t it, Martin – asking Arthur to cheat for you?
MARTIN: I didn’t ask him to. It was all his idea. I won fair and square.
DOUGLAS: Did you?
(Intercom on.)
DOUGLAS: Arthur, how many people went for the strudel in the end?
ARTHUR (over intercom): Uh, five.
DOUGLAS: And the cheesecake?
ARTHUR: Eight.
MARTIN: What?! Even though they thought it was poisoned?!
ARTHUR: Sorry, Skip. Everyone hates strudel.
(Martin groans.)
DOUGLAS: That’ll be twenty quid, please, Captain.
MARTIN: Right. Double or quits. I bet you … I bet you I can land in Gdansk on time.
DOUGLAS: No, that was the last bet. Rien ne va plus.
MARTIN: Y-you can’t stop now.
DOUGLAS: Sorry. Bored of betting, and I need to devote my attention to consuming this mountain of tiny
cheeses.
MARTIN: Fifty quid! A hundred!
DOUGLAS: Sorry, Martin, nothing doing.
MARTIN: Afraid of losing, are you?
DOUGLAS: Looking back on our time together today, Martin, do you think that’s what I’m afraid of?
MARTIN: Well, I’m sure we can find something of mine you want. How about my spare captain’s
epaulets? Helena must be wondering why yours are so worn out.
DOUGLAS (angrily): All right, Sonny Jim. A month’s salary.
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: You heard. You wanna bet? We’ll bet. A month’s salary says you don’t land on time.
MARTIN: I didn’t mean … A month’s salary’s a bit …
DOUGLAS: You’re right. We might as well do it properly. Three months’ salary.
MARTIN: No! I didn’t mean …
DOUGLAS: I thought you wanted to bet. I thought you wanted to win at something.
MARTIN: Your salary or mine?
DOUGLAS: Yours if you lose; mine if I lose. Are we on?
MARTIN: You’ll just radio an emergency or something.
DOUGLAS: No, no tricks. I’m quite happy to rely on your natural bad luck and incompetence. Are we
on?
MARTIN: We’re on.
ATC (over radio): Golf Tango India, for your information, Speed Bird zero-zero-seven has reported
thundercloud build-up on your route fifty miles ahead. Advise your intentions.
MARTIN (wearily): Golf Tango India, will advise.
(Radio off.)
MARTIN: Douglas, how did you make there be a thunderstorm?
DOUGLAS: I fear you may be confusing me with Thor. Though of course I do seem to remember, when
you asked Warsaw for the weather earlier, something about scattered thunderclouds. But, because I’m
wonderful, I tell you what I’ll do: I’ll offer you a different stake.
MARTIN: Go on.
DOUGLAS: Instead of three months’ salary, you may bet me all rights in perpetuity to the story of me
letting Helena believe I’m a captain.
MARTIN: What do you mean?
DOUGLAS: I mean if you lose, you never ever get to tell, mention, allude to or hint at that story, so long
as we both shall live. Understand?
MARTIN: Yes.
DOUGLAS: I take it we’re on?
MARTIN: No.
DOUGLAS: What?
MARTIN: I need that story. I have to have something, and now I’ve tasted having something, I can’t go
back.
DOUGLAS: And you’ll pay three months’ salary for the privilege?
MARTIN: Or I’ll fly through the thunderstorm. I haven’t decided yet.

CAROLYN: So, Madame S-B …

MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: My name is Szyszko-Bohusz.
CAROLYN: Believe me, I shall remember it as long as I live. Now then, I have eaten the
cheesecake, Arthur has eaten the cheesecake.
ARTHUR: Four slices.
CAROLYN: And we remain both hale and hearty – Arthur disgustingly so.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Yes, I’m-I’m sorry. Sometimes I get a little, uh, what is the word?
Deranged?
CAROLYN: I suspect not the one you mean, but a good one nevertheless. Listen to me: I am in charge
of your safety. I am a terrifically wise and capable woman with many years’ flying experience, and I
personally guarantee that all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well, all right?
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Yes, all right. Except … my service bell, it seems to have stopped
working.
CAROLYN: Imagine that!
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: But still, in an emergency …
CAROLYN: In an emergency, madam, you can tootle your bassoon.

MARTIN (over cabin address): Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, Captain Crieff here speaking. We
should be landing in Gdansk in just under twenty minutes. I apologise for our … delayed arrival. We had
to divert around a thunderstorm en route. Cabin crew: twenty minutes to landing.
DOUGLAS: Bad luck, Captain.
MARTIN: I had to go round it.
DOUGLAS: Fine.
MARTIN: It would have been reckless not to.
DOUGLAS: You don’t have to justify it to me.
MARTIN: You accept the bet’s off, then?
DOUGLAS: No.
MARTIN: But, Douglas, it was a thunderstorm!
DOUGLAS: God moves in mysterious ways in order to do lovely things for Douglas Richardson. But,
because I am even more wonderful than previously stated, my earlier offer still stands. Promise never to
mention my wife’s mis-apprehension ever again and we’re all square.
MARTIN: No.
DOUGLAS: Really? You’d rather pay me three months’ salary?
MARTIN: Yes, I would. In fact, I’ll give it to you now.
DOUGLAS: Well, you can’t …
MARTIN: Nothing plus nothing is nothing; add another nothing and that’s … a grand total of bugger-all.
DOUGLAS: What are you talking about?
MARTIN: I don’t have a salary. (He sighs.) Look, when I had my interview with Carolyn, it wasn’t to be
captain, it was to be first officer, and by the end I … (he groans) … I could see I wasn’t gonna get it, so I
said … last-ditch try … I said I’d work for half of whatever she gave the last guy, and this funny light
came into her eyes and she said, “A third,” and I said, “No,” and there were some pretty heavy
negotiations and … we agreed on a quarter, only then when I was leaving she said, “How little would you
take to be captain?” and after some more … negotiation, we decided I would be captain and … she
wouldn’t pay me at all. My salary is nothing. And three times nothing is nothing. So … so, so! I’ve tricked
you! Ha! Yeah! Now you’re the loser!
DOUGLAS: Yes. The point of that story certainly is that I’m the loser. Bad luck, Martin.
MARTIN (plaintively): Why can’t I ever win something – ever?! Being someone who doesn’t win often – I
could take that.
DOUGLAS: Well, obviously I can’t help you with that but, changing the subject entirely, are you feeling
quite well?
MARTIN: Yeah, just miserable.
DOUGLAS: ’Cause you look rather poorly.
MARTIN: No, no, I’m fine.
DOUGLAS: I don’t know, Martin. You’re looking very pale – positively snow white.
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: I was wondering if you had that nasty bug that’s going around – the one with the seven
symptoms.
MARTIN (finally catching on): I … might have that, yes. I’ve, uh, I’ve definitely got some of them.
DOUGLAS: I thought so. For instance, you might have been feeling rather … lethargic?
MARTIN: Yes, I’ve got that one … that symptom.
DOUGLAS: Right. Lethargic, perhaps, to the point of feeling groggy, slow-witted, as if drugged?
MARTIN (chuckling): Yes, I’ve got that too.
DOUGLAS: Then there’s the mood swings. One minute you’re euphoric; the next you’re oddly irritable.
MARTIN (laughing): Yes, both of them. That’s four.
DOUGLAS: Right. Er, there are physical symptoms too: inflammation of the nasal passages leading to
bouts of …
MARTIN: Yeah, got him … that.
DOUGLAS: And, of course, that can make you feel self-conscious.
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: Shy.
MARTIN: Oh! Yeah, got that one.
DOUGLAS: Right. So my advice to you is that you seek out a health care professional.
MARTIN: Douglas, if you’re just tormenting me …
DOUGLAS: No, Martin, listen. If you have those six symptoms, I strongly recommend you seek out a
medic.
MARTIN: Just tell me!
DOUGLAS: I can’t tell you, Martin. I promised, Scout’s honour. The person who can tell you is a G.P! A
quack! A sawbones!
MARTIN: What?!
DOUGLAS: Someone who can tell you, in the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, “What’s up?”
MARTIN: Ohhhhh!

(The orchestra’s Conductor flushes and comes out of the toilet.)

MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Ah, Maestro, a pleasant hour?
CONDUCTOR: Ah, most satisfactory, thank you. You are feeling calmer, madam? I gather you had a
troubled flight.
MADAME SZYSZKO-BOHUSZ: Oh, Maestro, you have no idea, with the arm-rests and the big salt and
the Disney code and the cheesecake! But the old woman – she’s rude and ill-favoured but somehow I
trust her. All is well. There is nothing to worry about.
CONDUCTOR: Uh, good.
(Bing-bong.)
MARTIN (over cabin address): This is Captain Crieff with an urgent message for the cabin crew. Sleepy,
Dopey, Happy, Grumpy, Sneezy, Bashful, Doc. Thank you!
(Madame Szyszko-Bohusz draws in a huge breath and begins blowing her bassoon frantically.)

SEASON 2 – EPISODE 3: Ipswich

This week, Ipswich!

DOUGLAS (into radio): Golf Tango India, continue as cleared. Thank you, Shannon.
(Radio off.)
MARTIN: D’you want any more of this one, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: No, I don’t think so. I think I’m done.
MARTIN: All right. (Calling loudly) Arthur!
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Yes, Skip?
MARTIN: Cheese tray is now open to Arthurs.
ARTHUR: Oh, brilliant! Thanks, chaps. Oh, wow! Almost a whole squidgy one!
(Sound of him unwrapping the squidgy one and eating it.)
ARTHUR (with his mouth full): It’s funny. This is like something I saw on a wildlife show last night.
DOUGLAS: I was just thinking something similar myself.
ARTHUR: No, it was these, um, African hunting dogs; and what they’ve got is they’ve got an alpha dog,
er, beta dogs and amigo dogs.
MARTIN: Amigo dogs?
DOUGLAS: Surely you’ve heard of amigo dogs? Spanish breed; very friendly. Often found in threes.
MARTIN: Omega? D’you mean omega?
ARTHUR: Oh, yeah, maybe. Anyway, when they kill something, the alpha dog eats as much as he wants
first; then the beta dogs have a go; and then the amigo dogs have the leftovers. And that’s like us, isn’t
it?
MARTIN: Well, not really, because Douglas and I share the cheese tray.
ARTHUR: So?
MARTIN: Well, so the alpha dog and the beta dog are eating together.
DOUGLAS: And which is which, pray?
MARTIN: I think that’s perfectly obvious, don’t you?
DOUGLAS: Yes I do.
MARTIN: So do I.
DOUGLAS: Good.
ARTHUR: No-no – I-I meant you’re the two beta dogs.
MARTIN: What?
ARTHUR: Because Mum always has the Camembert off the tray before I bring it in.
MARTIN: What?!
DOUGLAS: There’s Camembert?! We never get any Camembert.
ARTHUR: … though, thinking about it, that is a secret.
MARTIN (loudly): Carolyn!
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Gentlemen!
DOUGLAS: Carolyn, we have a complaint.
CAROLYN: Oh dear me. Tell you what: why don’t you write it down, put it in an envelope, tear it in half,
throw it away, and shut your face? In the meantime, attend: are you busy on Monday?
MARTIN and DOUGLAS (simultaneously): Yes.
CAROLYN: Quite right; full marks. Now, prepare to learn what it is you will be busy doing.
MARTIN: No, Carolyn – Monday’s a day off. It’s been on the wall chart for ages.
CAROLYN: Wall charts can lie, Martin. Notoriously deceitful, the wall chart. Anyway, on Monday – you’ll
be delighted to learn – I have booked us a refresher SEP course.
MARTIN: Oh, no!
DOUGLAS (protesting): Carolyn!
ARTHUR: Er, what’s a … that?
MARTIN: Safety and Emergency Procedures. Amongst other things, jumping into a cold swimming pool
in uniform and scrambling into life rafts.
ARTHUR: Brilliant!
MARTIN: No, that’s a bad … (He sighs.) Oh, never mind.
DOUGLAS: Carolyn, I don’t need a refresher.
CAROLYN: Course you do. Procedures change, Douglas. Aircraft change.
DOUGLAS: The only time this aircraft changes is when another bit falls off it.
CAROLYN: Well, procedures change.
DOUGLAS: Is it still pull to go up, push to go down?
CAROLYN: Yes.
DOUGLAS: I’m fine, then.
CAROLYN: You are all going, because if you don’t, the CAA will stop you flying; and although heaven
knows that’s not a bad idea, my job depends on preventing it.
ARTHUR: Where is it?
CAROLYN: Ipswich.
ARTHUR: Oh, brilliant! Where I went before. Will there be more learning how to understand people?
CAROLYN: No, Arthur. I think you understand as much about people as you ever will.
ARTHUR: Thanks, Mum! What a nice thing to say!
CAROLYN: Case in point.

(Sound of Carolyn’s car accelerating, followed by the protesting horn of another car.)
CAROLYN (loudly): Oh, pipe down! Do you not have overtaking in Ipswich?
ARTHUR: Give me another one, Mum.
CAROLYN: All right. How many loudhailers are there in the aft cabinet?
ARTHUR: Okay. And ‘aft’ is the … one at the … front?
CAROLYN: Back.
ARTHUR: Back! Back! I meant back.
CAROLYN: The ‘fore’ comes before the ‘aft’ that comes after.
DOUGLAS: I haven’t heard that one before.
CAROLYN: Well, that’s because no-one but Arthur has ever needed a mnemonic for ‘fore’ and ‘aft’.
MARTIN: Two in the aft cabinet; none in the fore; one on the flight deck.
CAROLYN: Yes, Martin, but please try and let Arthur answer one.
DOUGLAS: How d’you know all this stuff, Martin?
MARTIN: It is my duty to be familiar with the safety equipment of the aircraft I command.
DOUGLAS: Goodness! Harken to the mighty woof of the alpha dog.
CAROLYN: What?
DOUGLAS: Arthur was telling us about that documentary. Martin is labouring under the delusion that he
is the alpha dog in this organisation.
CAROLYN: Ah-ha! Whereas you, of course, correctly reminded him that I am.
DOUGLAS: You have the loudest bark, certainly; but I like to think I’m the one who brings down the
hartebeest.
ARTHUR: Douglas, you give me a question.
DOUGLAS: Oh, I don’t know any of this stuff.
MARTIN: Then how d’you think you’re gonna pass the exam?
DOUGLAS: Luck.
MARTIN: You can’t rely on luck!
DOUGLAS: You can’t rely on luck.
ARTHUR: Skip, you give me one.
MARTIN: Oh, all right. At what number of passengers does it become compulsory to carry at least one
flight attendant?
ARTHUR: Well, we always carry at least one, so therefore … no passengers?
MARTIN: No. Nineteen.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. It depends, though.
MARTIN: Er, no, no. It doesn’t depend. The answer is nineteen.
ARTHUR: Yeah, but if it’s somewhere nice, Mum’ll come; or if the passengers are important. Or if she’s
bored.
MARTIN: Yes, but if you say any of that, you’ll fail; whereas if you say ‘nineteen’, you won’t fail. D’you
understand that? Nineteen. Nineteen passengers; one cabin crew. Nineteen.
DOUGLAS: Nineteen.
MARTIN: Nineteen.
CAROLYN: Will you all please stop saying ‘nineteen’?
ARTHUR: I didn’t say ‘nineteen’.
MARTIN: That is exactly the problem!

(Carolyn’s car pulls to a halt. Car doors open.)

DR. DUNCAN (calling out): Hello! (He comes closer.) Hello. Miss Knapp-Shappey?
CAROLYN: That’s right, yes.
DR. DUNCAN: Hello. I’m Doctor Duncan, Peter Duncan. Not the Peter Duncan.
CAROLYN: Not which Peter Duncan?
DR. DUNCAN: Peter Duncan.
CAROLYN: Who’s Peter Duncan?
DR. DUNCAN: From Blue Peter in the eighties, and Duncan Dares.
ARTHUR: Ooh, yes! I remember him! He was great!
DR. DUNCAN: Yes. Well, I’m not him!
(He laughs.)
ARTHUR: Oh.
CAROLYN: Jolly good(!) Now, this is Captain Martin Crieff, First Officer Douglas Richardson …
DR. DUNCAN: Hello, Captain.
CAROLYN: No, no, no, the other way round.
MARTIN: Oh, for the love of …
CAROLYN: … and Arthur Shappey, steward.
DR. DUNCAN: Right. So you’re the advanced guard, are you?
CAROLYN: How d’you mean?
DR. DUNCAN: Well, just that the others haven’t arrived yet.
CAROLYN: Which others would those be?
DR. DUNCAN: Well, the rest of the airline?
CAROLYN: Doctor Duncan, you see before you the airline. Drink us in.
DR. DUNCAN: There’s four hundred of you?
CAROLYN: Are there, though? Count again.
DR. DUNCAN: Not four hundred?
CAROLYN: Four.
DR. DUNCAN: Right! That’s unfortunate. I should probably speak to Catering. But, well, anyway, um,
welcome! I’ll be looking after the classroom side of things and Mr. Sargent …
(He calls out.)
DR. DUNCAN: Mr. Sargent! Can I borrow you?
MR. SARGENT (walking over): Good morning.
DR. DUNCAN: After a quick CRM lecture, Mr. Sargent will be putting you through the pool drill, then
after lunch we’ll have the exam, and finally Mr. Sargent will take you through the smoke-filled fuselage.
DOUGLAS: Metaphorically?
MR. SARGENT: No, sir, not metaphorically, sir, no. We ’ad a bit of a job gettin’ our ’ands on a
metaphorical fuselage, sir; and even if you can track one down, it’s a bugger tryin’ to fill it with a simile of
some smoke.
DOUGLAS: I see. Tell me, Mr. Sargent: were you in the RAF by any chance?
MR. SARGENT: I certainly was.
DOUGLAS: And were you a sergeant, Mr. Sargent?
MR. SARGENT: No, sir, I wasn’t a sergeant because – as we just established – I was in the RA bleedin’
F., not the bleedin’ Army, so I was a warrant officer. And since my name is not Warren Tofficer, this
occasioned no bleedin’ mirth whatsoever.
DR. DUNCAN: Right! Good! Good to get that sorted out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m just gonna dash
off and do what I can to hold back four hundred quiches.

(In a large echoing room.)

MARTIN (loudly): Must you sit at the back, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: I always sit at the back.
MARTIN: But there’s only two of us in a lecture theatre with five hundred seats.
DOUGLAS: Some of which are at the back.
(Door opens.)
DR. DUNCAN: S-sorry I’m late, chaps. Trying to intercept the caterers.
MARTIN: Did you manage?
DR. DUNCAN: No. I hope you’ve got an appetite! Right! Douglas, er, d’you want to join us down here,
maybe?
DOUGLAS: No, I’m fine.
DR. DUNCAN: Right! Fair enough. All right. Well, um, well why don’t we come and join you at the back?
MARTIN: Oh, for goodness’ sake …
(Footsteps.)
DR. DUNCAN: Now then, I want to talk to you today about the potentially dangerous mind sets a pilot
can get themselves into; and in particular what are known as the Six Deadly I’s. These are …
MARTIN (instantly): Impatience, Impulsivity, Invulnerability, Insecurity, Indecision, and I-Know-Best.
DR. DUNCAN: Absolutely. Yes. Gosh! Well done! So, let’s take them one by one. I-Know-Best is the
anti-authority attitude that rules and regulations don’t apply to you; that you make up your own laws.
Now, I don’t know if either of you have ever flown with anyone like that …
MARTIN (laughing): Yeah, me! I have! Yes, I definitely have.
DR. DUNCAN: Right. Well, d-don’t name any names.
MARTIN: Oh, no-no-no! Certainly not, no, no, no. Let’s, um, let’s call him Dougal. Dougal ignores safety
briefings, tech checks; he can barely be persuaded to file a flight plan. He basically thinks he’s always
right.
DOUGLAS: Has it occurred to you that maybe Dougal is always right?
MARTIN (chuckling derisively): It’s definitely occurred to Dougal!
DR. DUNCAN: O-kay. Great! Well, next: Impulsivity – that’s the tendency of some pilots to panic under
pressure, to do the first thing they think of just for the sake of doing something. Now, again, you may
never have …
DOUGLAS: Actually, that does ring a little bell.
DR. DUNCAN: Oh, well – again, without naming names.
DOUGLAS: No. That would be the height of iniquity. Well, this chap – could be literally any of the other
pilots in MJN Air; let’s call him Marvin – once requested an emergency landing because his watch went
off.
MARTIN: It was a new watch with a very odd alarm.
DOUGLAS: Oh. Have you flown with Marvin, Martin? Curious chap, isn’t he?
DR. DUNCAN: Then there’s Insecurity – always trying to prove he’s as good a pilot as anyone else.
DOUGLAS: Marvin.
DR. DUNCAN: Impatience – sacrifices procedure or even safety to save time …
MARTIN: Dougal.
DR. DUNCAN: … and finally Indecision – getting caught in the headlights of a problem and being unable
to settle on a plan of action.
DOUGLAS: And Marvin.
MARTIN: I thought you said Marvin impulsively did the first thing he thought of.
DOUGLAS: Amazingly, he manages to combine both: doing whichever is least appropriate to the
situation.
(Slight pause.)
DR. DUNCAN: … Okay. Well, what’s good here is that we’re fostering a real openness between the two
of you.
DOUGLAS: Yes. That is good, isn’t it?(!)
MARTIN: Mmm(!) Well done, us(!)

CAROLYN: All right: where are the asbestos fire gloves kept?
ARTHUR: Yes! Brilliant! I know this one. In the galley, on top of the microwave.
CAROLYN: No – they’re behind the captain’s seat.
ARTHUR: … They’re not, though. They’re on top of the microwave.
CAROLYN: Yes. I know that’s where they actually are …
ARTHUR: Right, then!
CAROLYN: … but that’s not where you should say they are.
ARTHUR: Why not?
CAROLYN: Because we probably shouldn’t let the CAA examiner know we use vital safety equipment as
oven gloves.
(Mr. Sargent pointedly clears his throat.)
CAROLYN: Ah. Mr. Sargent. I was just, er …
MR. SARGENT: I didn’t hear anything, madam. In the Air Force we used to use the CO2 fire
extinguishers to cool the beer. Just don’t let Doctor Duncan hear you. Speaking of whom, madam, the
good doctor asks if you could bring your company portfolio to ’im in the Seminar Room.
CAROLYN: The ‘Seminar Room’?
MR. SARGENT: Oh, yes. How would we have won the Battle of Britain if we ’adn’t ’ad our portfolios in
the Seminar Room?(!)
CAROLYN: Yes, of course(!) Arthur, stay here and keep revising.
(Door closes.)
MR. SARGENT: You ’aving trouble revising, are you?
ARTHUR: Yeah. I-I’m not at my best with exams and stuff.
MR. SARGENT: What are you at your best at?
ARTHUR: Er … probably crazy golf.
MR. SARGENT: All right. Well, look, you didn’t ’ear this from me, but, er, shall I tell you an interesting
thing about the passenger oxygen generators in your aircraft?
ARTHUR: Aw, yeah, please!
MR. SARGENT: They produce oxygen for exactly twelve minutes.
ARTHUR: That’s not very interesting.
MR. SARGENT: Well, yes it is.
ARTHUR: No it’s not.
MR. SARGENT: See, if I was a young lad studying for an exam, I’d find it very interesting indeed.
ARTHUR: Oh! Right! Because it might come up!
MR. SARGENT: Oh, I am certainly not telling you that. I’m merely saying it’s a possibility.
ARTHUR: Oh. Well, thanks, but no, I don’t think so. Er, it sounds like it’s mainly gonna be stuff about
where stuff is.
MR. SARGENT: Right. So you don’t reckon that’s the sort of thing they’d ask, whereas I – as someone
who works in the test centre – reckons it’s exactly the sort of thing they’d ask. Well, we’ll just ’ave to
agree to disagree.
ARTHUR: Okay!
MR. SARGENT: You’re an idiot.
ARTHUR: I know! That’s why I’m worried!

DR. DUNCAN: All right. So, in this session …

DOUGLAS: Hang on. Where’s Martin?
DR. DUNCAN: Oh. Well, this is a break-out group just for the first officers.
DOUGLAS: All one of us.
DR. DUNCAN: Yes, I see what you mean, but best to stick to the plan. You see, a common problem in
flight decks with poor crew resource management is that the first officer is overly in awe of the captain.
DOUGLAS: … Is it, now?
DR. DUNCAN: Yes. Now, the method I want to teach you is the Five Step Statement. So, Douglas,
imagine you’ve noticed a problem but you’re shy of bringing it up with your captain. Step One …
DOUGLAS: Hang on.
DR. DUNCAN: Yes?
DOUGLAS: No, it’s just this is going to need really quite a lot of imagination.
(Slight pause.)
DOUGLAS: Okay, got it.
DR. DUNCAN: Okay. Step One …
DOUGLAS: No, it’s gone again.
DR. DUNCAN: Step One: first, you get his attention. Now, depending on how you get on, that might be,
“Excuse me, sir,” or, “Er, Captain” …
DOUGLAS: Mmm.
DR. DUNCAN: … or in an informal flight deck, it might just be, “Hey, Chief …”
DOUGLAS: Might it really?
DR. DUNCAN: Yes. So, Step Two: state your concern in a non-confrontational manner. “Hey, Chief, I
might be wrong …”
DOUGLAS: “I might be wrong”?
DR. DUNCAN: Yes. That’s a good trick for taking the sting out of it. “I might be wrong, but I think we’re
low on fuel.” Step Three: let him know how you feel about this. “This makes me feel uneasy.” Step Four:
propose a solution. “One thing we could do is reduce our speed.” Step Five: obtain buy-in to your idea.
“How does that sound to you?”
DOUGLAS: Well, frankly, it sounds like the biggest load of …
DR. DUNCAN: No-no, no-no, that’s what you might say. “How does that sound to you?”
DOUGLAS: Ah.
DR. DUNCAN: So, d’you want to role play that through now, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: I would love to. “Hey, Chief! I might be wrong, but I think we’re flying into a mountain. This
makes me feel … scared of the mountain! One thing we could do is pull up and fly over the mountain.
How does that sound to …” (He makes the sound of the plane crashing into the side of the mountain
and exploding.)
DR. DUNCAN: Yes. Of course, in-in that situation you might need to react a little more instinctively.
DOUGLAS: Oh, do you think so?(!)

(Sound of a whistle being blown, and the ripple of water nearby. Voices are echoey.)
MR. SARGENT: All right, lady and gentlemen. Welcome to the pool drill. No doubt Doctor Duncan has
given you some fascinating glimpses into the psychology of the aviational mind, but what we’re gonna
do now is check you know ’ow to get off your burnin’ aircraft and into your nice safe floaty boat.
ARTHUR (excitedly): Mr. Sargent?
MR. SARGENT: Yes, son.
ARTHUR: This is brilliant!
MR. SARGENT: Good! Right, then. So there you are, up in your little plane somewhere above the North
Atlantic when suddenly, oh dearie me, beep-beep-beep, two engine failures. Not the best of news,
seeing as you only ’ave two engines; and you ’ave to glide to a forced landin’. The exercise begins just
as you ’ave glid the plane to sea level.
DOUGLAS: Sorry – “glid”?
MR. SARGENT: Yes, glid. Is there something funny about that?
DOUGLAS: Not in the least, no. I’m very glad we glid.
MR. SARGENT: All right. Now, when I blow my whistle, jump into the pool, inflate the life raft and
conduct standard emergency procedure.
(The whistle blows.)
ARTHUR: Hooray!!
(Sound of a splash as he jumps into the pool.)
MR. SARGENT: Good lad! Well, come on, the rest of you! In, in, in!
CAROLYN: Yes, all right! I’m getting in!
(She shudders noisily.)
CAROLYN: Oh God, it’s cold!
MR. SARGENT: Yes, madam. This is what we tend to find in the North bleedin’ Atlantic Ocean! An’ what
aboutyou two?! Come on, in!
MARTIN: Yes, I’m, er, I’m just putting in my ear plugs.
MR. SARGENT: You don’t need bleedin’ ear plugs, sir!
MARTIN: Well, I-I do, actually. Erm, I have a slight abnormality of the inner ear and I-I can’t go swimming
without …
MR. SARGENT: Get yourself in the bleedin’ pool, sir! Now!
(Martin whines as he jumps into the pool.)
DOUGLAS: Arthur, here’s the dinghy. Catch.
(Sound of a solid splash.)
ARTHUR: Thanks, Douglas! So now, what – do I just pull this, um …
(Sound of the dinghy rapidly inflating.)
ARTHUR (almost exploding with excitement): Wowww! Look at that!
MR. SARGENT: Oi! Sir! Why are you not in the pool?
DOUGLAS: “First Officer retrieves dinghy, conveys it to cabin crew.”
MR. SARGENT: Yes, well, first officer’s done that. Now, first officer gets in the bleedin’ pool himself!
DOUGLAS: I think not.
MR. SARGENT: I don’t care whether or not you bleedin’ well think so. (Sternly) Get in the pool.
DOUGLAS: No. You see, the problem is, I was never in the RAF, so rather sadly I’ve never managed to
cultivate a fear of shouty red-faced little men with bristly heads. I was, however, in command of an
aircraft for thirteen years …
MARTIN (distantly from the pool): Though not now!
DOUGLAS: … though not now; and I picked up a few little things along the way, such as: if the engines
are stopped, there’s no risk of fire and so it would be a poor decision to waterlog my clothing and risk
hypothermia when I can remain on the wing of the aircraft and wait for the gallant steward to steer the
dinghy close enough to it that I can step in …
(Sound of him stepping onto the rubber lip of the dinghy.)
DOUGLAS: … like so. Hello there, Arthur.
MR. SARGENT (after a moment): I s’ppose you think you’re very clever, don’t you?
DOUGLAS: I’ll let you into a little secret: I sometimes do.

(Back in the training centre.)

ARTHUR: Right – another quiche, I think. Anyone else? Skip?
MARTIN: No!
ARTHUR: But you’ve only had one.
MARTIN: Yes! I’ve had one! One is the correct dosage of quiche for the adult human male. How many
have youhad now?
ARTHUR: Seven. And we have got a hundred each to get through.
DOUGLAS: It was a mistake, Arthur, not a challenge.
CAROLYN: Wait a minute, Arthur. Listen, all of you. We’ve only got the exam and the fuselage drill to go.
The exam’s in the lap of the gods, but in the fuselage we are going to concentrate. We are going to be
disciplined; we are going to listen to one clear voice of command. Got that?
MARTIN: Yes. Thank you, Carolyn.
CAROLYN: Not you, idiot – me.
MARTIN: But I’m the captain!
CAROLYN: Yes, Martin! Everyone who’s ever met you knows you’re the captain, but I am the alpha dog.
DOUGLAS: You say that, Carolyn, but …
CAROLYN: I do say that, Douglas, yes; because if you’d seen the documentary you’d know that what
makes an alpha dog is not languid put-downs, it’s providing the pack with their food, their shelter, their
pay, their hotel rooms, and – most of all – their aeroplane.
DOUGLAS: Goodness. I wish I had seen it now.
CAROLYN: So, in the fuselage, everyone listen to me and follow me – especially you, Arthur. And Arthur,
in the exam …
ARTHUR: I know. Nineteen.
MARTIN: No, Arthur! That’s only the answer to one question.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. Which one?

DR. DUNCAN: All right. Individual questions now. Martin: how are the passenger oxygen masks
activated?
MARTIN (promptly): Automatically by a barometric pressure switch when the cabin altitude is fourteen
thousand feet; or when the Pass Oxygen switch on the overhead panel is positioned to ‘On’.
DR. DUNCAN: Yes! Perfect answer! Okay. Carolyn: how many smoke hoods are there in the rear
stowage compartment?
CAROLYN: Two.
DR. DUNCAN: Yes! … Okay … D’you want to elaborate on that?
CAROLYN: There’s one … and there’s another one. Totalling two.
DR. DUNCAN: Yes! Okay! Fine, yes. Douglas … a slightly obscure one for you, I’m afraid. At what
number of passengers does it become compulsory to carry at least one flight attendant?
DOUGLAS: Hmm. That is tricky.
MARTIN: You would get that one.
DOUGLAS: Still, I’ll have a stab at it. Could it be … nineteen?
DR. DUNCAN: Quite right! Finally, Arthur: for how long does a passenger oxygen generator produce
oxygen once activated?
ARTHUR: Oh, that’s a coincidence! Someone was just talking to me about that! Was it you, Douglas? Or
Mum? Someone, anyway.
DR. DUNCAN: So what’s the answer?
ARTHUR: I don’t know. I didn’t listen.

(Sound of a whistle being blown, and the ripple of water nearby. Voices are echoey again.)
MR. SARGENT: All right, lady and gentlemen. Ignore the pool this time. Concentrate your attentions on
the mock-up fuselage. Inside, it ’as been laid out in exactly the same way as your aircraft, with the tiny
improvement that we’ve filled it with smoke. Also, somewhere inside is Adrian – a life-size life-weight
dummy representing an unlucky passenger. Obviously any passenger of MJN Air is by definition an
unlucky passenger, but this one is unlucky even by your own ’igh standards because ’e is relyin’
on you to save ’im. When I blow my whistle, you will don your smoke ’oods, enter the fuselage in a
random order, locate Adrian and retrieve ’im in under five minutes. The random order is as follows:
Arthur, Douglas, Carolyn, Martin.
ARTHUR: Ooh. I mean, hooray, but also … (He makes a doubtful, worried sound.) I don’t think I should
go first.
MR. SARGENT: No, nor do I. That’s why you’re goin’ first. On your marks, get set …
(He blows his whistle. Sounds of the crew struggling to put on their smoke hoods.)
MR. SARGENT: Come on, come on! ’oods on, quickly! Right! In you go! In, in, in! Not all separately, like
sheep that ’ave got into a bleedin’ garden! ’old the back of the belt of the crew member in front!

MR. SARGENT: One minute left! Come on!

CAROLYN (muffled): For goodness’ sake, four minutes gone! Arthur! Are you sure you haven’t found
anything?
ARTHUR (muffled): No!
CAROLYN (muffled): Hasn’t anyone?
DOUGLAS (muffled): No!
MARTIN (muffled): No. But I am … erm … I-I’m a bit, er …
MR. SARGENT: Forty-five seconds!
CAROLYN (muffled): We’ll have to abandon it.
(Sound of a thump as someone’s rubber-clad body falls to the floor.)
DOUGLAS (muffled): What was that?
ARTHUR (muffled): It was Skipper! He’s fallen down!
CAROLYN (muffled): Martin! Are you all right?
DOUGLAS (muffled): Arthur, how do you know it was Martin?
ARTHUR (muffled): I was holding on to his belt.
CAROLYN (muffled): But … but you were in the lead!
ARTHUR (muffled): But Mr. Sargent said, “Everyone hold someone’s belt.”
CAROLYN (muffled): Well, not you!
DOUGLAS (muffled): Never mind that now. Is Martin all right?
ARTHUR (muffled): I think so. My screen’s a bit misted up. I’ll just, er …
(He starts coughing violently, then there’s another rubber-clad thump.)

DR. DUNCAN: So what exactly happened?

MR. SARGENT: Yes. What exactly ’appened? Let’s see if we can piece it together for the good doctor.
For starters, how many bodies did you rescue from the fuselage?
CAROLYN: Two.
MR. SARGENT: Two. Which is pretty good going, given that I only put one in there. Carolyn: whose
body did yourescue?
CAROLYN: Arthur’s.
MR. SARGENT: Arthur’s. And why was Arthur’s body lying in the fuselage?
ARTHUR (quietly): I got a bit smoke-filled.
MR. SARGENT: Yes, you did. Because in the smoke-filled cabin, in order to see more clearly, you took
off your smoke hood. An’ what was you tryin’ to see more clearly?
ARTHUR: The body I found.
MR. SARGENT: The body you found – the body Douglas, in the end, brought out of the fuselage; the
body of …
DOUGLAS: Martin.
MR. SARGENT: The body of Martin. An’ why was the body of Martin lyin’ on the floor?
MARTIN: Er, as I believe I mentioned before, I have a slight abnormality of the inner ear. It’s-it’s perfectly
air-worthy, but it means I, um, I-I-I-I-I black out if I get dizzy.
MR. SARGENT: If you get dizzy. An’ why was you dizzy?
MARTIN: Because we were going round in circles.
MR. SARGENT: And that was because …?
MARTIN: Because Arthur was holding on to my belt.
MR. SARGENT: Ex-bleedin’-xactly. Because you was all ’oldin’ on to each other’s belts, goin’ round and
round the smoke-filled cabin playing Ring-A-Ring-A-Roses while Adrian the dummy looked on, burning
merrily to a crisp. In which circumstances, I ’ope it will come as no surprise that you have well and truly
failed the SEP.
CAROLYN: No! You can’t fail us!
MR. SARGENT: I not only can, I ’ave to. An’ I not only ’ave to, I want to.
DR. DUNCAN: Quite right, Mr. Sargent. Absolutely – though of course you could maybe let them re-take
it.
MR. SARGENT: I could – at my discretion – allow a re-take if I ’ad any reason to think they were under
an unfair disadvantage … which I don’t.
DOUGLAS: Oh, but we were.
MR. SARGENT: Oh yes? And what was that?
DOUGLAS: Arthur was in the lead.
MR. SARGENT: A crew is only as strong as its weakest link – and your weakest link is very weak
indeed. If you want me, I won’t be in the Seminar Room.
(Door opens and closes.)
CAROLYN: Peter, can I have a word with you?
DR. DUNCAN: I’m sorry, Carolyn, but Mr. Sargent’s quite right, and Arthur did fail his exam as well.
CAROLYN: Look, this is a very safe aircraft. I have a good pilot, and a safe pilot; and the safe pilot’s in
charge of the good pilot. Martin won’t let them get into trouble; and if they do, Douglas would get them
out of it.
DR. DUNCAN: But it does have Arthur on it.
CAROLYN: Yes, but Arthur doesn’t do anything. He just serves the meals. If anything went wrong, I’d
handle it; and if I wasn’t on board, the pilots would handle it. Arthur is basically just a passenger in a hat.
That’s only because he made himself a hat.
(Douglas ostentatiously clears his throat.)
DOUGLAS (dramatically): Hey, Chief.
CAROLYN: What?
DOUGLAS: I might be wrong …
(He stops and laughs uproariously.)
DOUGLAS: Sorry. I really must learn to say that with a straight face.
(He clears his throat again.)
DOUGLAS: I … I might be wrong, but I think Arthur’s about to lose us all our jobs.
CAROLYN: This is not …
DOUGLAS (interrupting): Hang on. I’m only on Step Two. This makes me feel … unemployed;
and also a little surprised, given that I’m sure I’ve heard quite a lot recently that the number of
passengers at which it becomes compulsory to carry a flight attendant is nineteen – and I just wonder
how often that situation’s going to occur in our aircraft … with its sixteen seats.
CAROLYN: Ahh!
DOUGLAS: And how does that sound to you?
CAROLYN: Thank you, Douglas!
DOUGLAS: You’re welcome. Enjoy the hartebeest.
CAROLYN: Doctor Duncan, we’ve had a slight company reorganisation in the last few … seconds. From
now on, Arthur will no longer fly on the crew roster. Henceforth, any flights he happens to be on, he’ll be
on the passenger roster.
DR. DUNCAN: As a passenger?
CAROLYN: Precisely.
DR. DUNCAN: But still acting as a steward?
CAROLYN: Certainly not! Of course, as a frequent flyer, he may choose to … help the other passengers.
You know, always be first to offer to get the coffee and serve dinner and … stay behind after to hoover
the aircraft, but in the eyes of God and the CAA, he will simply be an unusually helpful passenger – who
wears a hat.
DR. DUNCAN: Well, that-that would make things a lot easier.
CAROLYN: Yes it would.
DR. DUNCAN: So long as the rest of you pass the fuselage drill.
CAROLYN: Peter. It has long been a maxim of MJN Air that when Arthur stops helping, we can do
anything.

(Sound of breathless panting from Martin, Douglas and Carolyn. A whistle blows.)
MR. SARGENT: All right. Four minutes and, er, fifty-two seconds – the very definition of ‘barely
adequate’. But you’ve rescued Adrian, you’re in time, an’ therefore, on the strict understanding that
Arthur has no official role on the aircraft whatsoever – except possibly chock – you all pass.
(Carolyn, Douglas and Martin cheer.)
MR. SARGENT: Except you.
MARTIN (frantically): Why?! What did I do?! Please give me another chance!
MR. SARGENT: Not you.
MARTIN: Oh.
MR. SARGENT: You.
DOUGLAS (incredulously): Me?!
MR. SARGENT: Yes, my friend, you. Because for all your smooth talkin’ and your smart answers, matey,
no-one passes my SEP trainin’ without demonstratin’ to my satisfaction they can swim strongly in
uniform and rescue a body from the water.
DOUGLAS: I see. Well, then, we’ll just have to see what the CAA adjudicates when I take …
CAROLYN: Douglas, shut up. Martin, pass me Adrian.
MARTIN: Here.
(Sound of the dummy being thrown into the pool.)
CAROLYN: Douglas, fetch!
(Douglas sighs heavily, then grunts as he throws himself off the side of the pool.)
(Splash!)

SEASON 2 – EPISODE 4: Johannesburg

(Bing-bong.)
ARTHUR (into cabin address): Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, our onboard transit process
today has now reached its ultimate termination.
CAROLYN: He means we’ve landed.
ARTHUR: Yes. So, as yourselves prepare for disemboarding, if I could kindly ask you to kindly ensure
you retain all your personal items about your person throughout the duration of the disembarkation.
CAROLYN: He means take your stuff with you.
ARTHUR: In concluding, it’s been a privilege for ourselves to conduct yourselves through the in-flight
experience today, and I do hope you’ll re-favour ourselves with the esteem of your forth-looking custom
going forward.
CAROLYN: … No idea.

This week, Johannesburg!

DOUGLAS: Okay, Martin, two miles to run. Descend to five hundred feet. Stand by for visual on target.
MARTIN: Douglas, are we certain about this?
DOUGLAS: Quite certain.
MARTIN (nervously): Right. It’s just … I … I’m sure it’s gonna be fine …
DOUGLAS: Excellent! I’m also sure it’s going to be fine.
MARTIN: The thing is, though, I’m not sure it’s gonna be fine.
DOUGLAS: What an exquisite paradox. Luckily, though, I’m still completely sure it’s going to be fine; so
as I’m a hundred percent sure and you’re fifty each way, that still gives us a comfortable hundred and
fifty percent working majority.
MARTIN: Douglas!
DOUGLAS: Target in sight; level five hundred feet; left-left; waggle wings … and open air brakes … now!
(Slight pause.)
DOUGLAS: Oh.
MARTIN: What?! What?! What?! I can’t see! What happened?!
DOUGLAS: I may have very slightly over-estimated how fine it would be.

CAROLYN: What were you thinking?

MARTIN: Look, all we were trying …
CAROLYN: Shut up, Martin. Douglas, what were you thinking?
DOUGLAS: I just thought, since I had to work on my daughter’s birthday, it would be nice to do a little
fly-past of her party on the way.
CAROLYN: Barrow-in-Furness is not ‘on the way’ to Paris. So first you stole my aircraft …
DOUGLAS: I wouldn’t call it ‘stealing’.
CAROLYN: I paid you to fly three hundred miles south west. You flew it two hundred miles north east.
What is that if not stealing?
DOUGLAS: Hijacking, at most.
MARTIN: Carolyn …
CAROLYN: Shut up, Martin.
(Martin groans quietly.)
CAROLYN: But, of course, you were just warming up! Because not only did you steal my aircraft, you
then chose to mark your arrival at the children’s birthday party by dropping a bomb on it.
DOUGLAS: The idea was perfectly sound!
CAROLYN: The idea was terminally stupid! Was it your idea, Martin?
MARTIN: No it wasn’t! Oh, and I’m allowed to speak again now, am I?
CAROLYN: No – shut up.
DOUGLAS: It was my idea. It occurred to me that if we filled the air brake cavity with boiled sweets and
then opened it just as we were flying over …
CAROLYN: … you could strafe your daughter’s birthday party.
DOUGLAS: No, not ‘strafe’! We weren’t going anything like fast enough! We did check!
MARTIN: I did the calculations.
DOUGLAS: And we were quite sure the sweets would flutter gently down to the excited children
beneath. And so they would have done, if it hadn’t been rather a hot day and the sweets in the metal
compartment hadn’t melted a little and then, up in the cold air, solidified again into a … a …
CAROLYN: … a sugar brick.
DOUGLAS: Yes.
CAROLYN: … which you dropped on your ex-wife’s house.
DOUGLAS: Yes … but we were very lucky really. We could have hit her conservatory or her BMW.
CAROLYN: Or a child!
DOUGLAS: Now, don’t exaggerate! All the children had run for safety long before it landed.
CAROLYN: That is not as reassuring a sentence as you seem to think.
DOUGLAS: I’m just saying we couldn’t have hit a child; but I admit we could have hit a car.
CAROLYN: But you didn’t hit a car, did you? You hit a carp.
DOUGLAS: … Yes.
CAROLYN: Do you have any idea how much a koi carp costs?
DOUGLAS: I do now, yes. But don’t worry – I don’t expect you to pay for it.
CAROLYN: You d…?! Of course you don’t expect me to pay for it! Why in heaven would I pay for it?
DOUGLAS: Well, as you pointed out, it is your plane.
CAROLYN: Yes! And I paid you to use it to fly a franking machine to Paris, not to fly a multi-coloured
confectionary brick to Cumbria and drop it on a fish.
MARTIN: Well, to be fair, we did go to Paris afterwards.
CAROLYN: Martin. Really, shut absolutely up.
MARTIN (resignedly): Right!
CAROLYN: Look, both of you. I’m being serious – with my serious face. You cannot keep doing things
like this. I will spell it out in words of one syllable. (Pedantically) If – you – waste – my – money – we –
will – go – bust. You – will – have – no – job.
DOUGLAS: … ‘Cash’, not ‘mon-ey’.
CAROLYN: Please! Will you take this seriously? We can’t go on like this! Look at the trip budget you’ve
submitted for Johannesburg next week: fourteen thousand pounds! Are we flying there on the backs of
unicorns?
MARTIN: It’s pared to the bone, I promise you! I can’t compromise safety for economy.
CAROLYN: That’s rich, coming from the Bomber of Barrow.
DOUGLAS: I’m sorry, Carolyn. It’s just that the captain and myself are deeply unmaterialistic. Our souls
are rather beautiful that way, actually.
CAROLYN: Is that so? All right, then, First Officer Gandhi: I’ll tell you what I’ll do. On a one-trip trial
basis, if you can magically shave, say, two thousand pounds off that pared-to-the-bone budget, you can
split it between you – which should just about pay for the carp – but if it comes in so much as a
penny over twelve thousand pounds, you pay me a grand each. Deal?
DOUGLAS: Absolutely. Deal.
MARTIN: No, wait! Douglas! The budget really is pretty tight. How on earth are we going …
DOUGLAS: Oh, Martin. Trust me! Deal.

(Flight deck door opens.)

ARTHUR: Chaps, my galley’s been burgled. They’ve taken the trolley, er, the duty free, the microwave,
even the hot water boiler.
DOUGLAS: Sorry, Arthur, that was me. The lighter we keep the plane, the less fuel we need, so I’ve off-
loaded all unnecessary dead weight. Speaking of which, how much do you weigh?
ARTHUR: But how am I supposed to heat up the catering?
DOUGLAS: Oh, I’ve cancelled the catering.
MARTIN: You cancelled our food for a twelve hour flight?!
DOUGLAS: Needless expense. Don’t worry – I rustled us up a little something myself.
ARTHUR: Oh, Douglas, you should have asked me.
DOUGLAS: Should I, though, Arthur, really? The inventor of fizzy yoghurt?
ARTHUR: To be fair, I didn’t invent that so much as discover the process that makes it.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Yoghurt plus time. Here, take these.
(Sound of him handing Tupperware boxes to Arthur.)
ARTHUR: Right-o. Er, how do I prepare them?
DOUGLAS: Take lids off boxes; empty onto plates; give to pilots. And – and I can’t stress this strongly
enough – do nothing else to it whatsoever.
MARTIN: Is that really gonna save us much money, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Every little helps. Why, what have you come up with?
MARTIN: Well, er, had a good think last night, and I think so long as we get the long runway at Jo’burg,
we maybe able to land without using the wheel brakes.
DOUGLAS: I see. And that’ll save us what?
MARTIN: Well, it’ll prolong the life of the brakes.
DOUGLAS: To the tune of …?
MARTIN: … Obviously not in a … calculable way.
DOUGLAS: Terrific(!) Well done.
MARTIN: Well, all right. What else have you come up with?
DOUGLAS: Turn off air conditioning; only take half the liquid oxygen; keep air recirculation fans on; and
only use one engine to taxi – and I’m just getting warmed up.
ARTHUR: So, if doing those things saves money, why don’t we do it all the time?
DOUGLAS: Well, the most tiresome of pettifoggers might question whether it constituted absolute best
practice.
MARTIN: You mean it’s horrendously illegal.
DOUGLAS: ‘Horrendously’ is a strong word.
MARTIN: I notice you’re not quibbling ‘illegal’.
DOUGLAS: Not dangerously illegal. It’s not like I’m suggesting we only fly on one engine – although …
MARTIN: No!

(Sounds of eating.)
MARTIN (with his mouth full): This … is excellent, Douglas! Did you really cook it yourself?
DOUGLAS: I did indeed.
MARTIN: Mmm! It’s lovely!
DOUGLAS: I’m very good at cooking.
MARTIN: Is there anything you’re not very good at?
(Silence.)
MARTIN: Douglas?
DOUGLAS: I’m thinking. There are things I haven’t tried yet. I suppose it’s possible I’m not very good at
some of those – theoretically.
MARTIN: Well, this is great. Unusual flavour – what is it?
DOUGLAS: Carp.
MARTIN: … But … not …
DOUGLAS: When I pay a thousand pounds for a fish, I don’t just throw it in the bin. Now then, when we
get to Jo’burg, obviously we can save a lot on hotels.
MARTIN: How?
DOUGLAS: By not staying in one.
MARTIN: So where will we sleep?
DOUGLAS: Well, I’m a happily married man, so I shall sleep in the plane; but you, m’lad, have four
hours in hand to get yourself invited to the Johannesburgian bedroom of your choice.
(Martin chuckles, then quickly becomes serious again.)
MARTIN: Yes, I’ll sleep in the plane too.
DOUGLAS: That uniform’s wasted on you, it really is.
(An alarm pings three times.)
DOUGLAS: Ah! Fancy that.
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: Little flashing warning light, Captain. Anti-icing, the starboard wing, declaring itself Rabbit of
Negative Euphoria.
MARTIN: What?!
DOUGLAS: Not A Happy Bunny.
MARTIN (frantically): Right, okay, okay, okay! Isolate the anti-icing valves port and starboard. Prepare
for landing and …
DOUGLAS: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! We don’t need to divert. We can do without anti-icing.
MARTIN: No we can’t!
DOUGLAS: Martin, we’re currently flying over southern Spain. We’re about to fly the length of
continental Africa. May I suggest that ice may not be our most formidable foe?
MARTIN: You know perfectly well the hotter it is, the quicker ice will form if we fly through clouds.
DOUGLAS: But I have a strategic master stroke to counter that: let’s not fly through any clouds.
MARTIN: But there are clouds, look.
DOUGLAS: What, those little fluffies?! We could just weave in and out of those! And we only have to
keep thestarboard wing out of them, anyway. It’ll be fun!
MARTIN: No, Douglas, we’re landing and getting it fixed.
DOUGLAS: You know what? I was wrong about the warning light. It’s not on. I made a mistake.
MARTIN: I can see it!
DOUGLAS: No, Martin. That’s an optical illusion caused by the fierce glare of the sun – the hot,
Mediterranean ice-melting sun which will beat down on us as we pay landing fees and engineer’s fees,
and hope they’ll fix us in time to get to Jo’burg tonight. In Spain. Lovely people, magnificent culture – not
famed for their snap-to-it efficiency.
MARTIN: Look, I know, but I-I’m sorry, I have to.
(Douglas sighs in exasperation. Radio on.)
MARTIN (into radio): Madrid, Golf Tango India. We have a system malfunction; require radar vectors to
nearest suitable airfield.

(Sound of GERTI’s engines shutting down, and the flicking of switches.)

MARTIN: And post-landing checks complete.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Gentlemen. I can’t help but notice we’ve landed three hours after take-off, which means
either you have discovered a hitherto-unsuspected warp drive button, or this isn’t Johannesburg.
MARTIN: Carolyn, I’m sorry. You can rant and rave all you like, but we had to divert. The anti-icing
system was …
CAROLYN (mildly): Yes, fine, whatever you think.
(Startled silence for a moment.)
MARTIN: Really?
CAROLYN: Yes, of course! I’m sure you had your reasons.
MARTIN: Well, yes, but don’t you want to hear them and then disagree with them? I thought you’d be
more furious.
CAROLYN: Yes, it’s curious, isn’t it?! Curious I’m not furious! It turns out I mind losing money a lot less
just so long as Douglas is losing it too.
MARTIN: And me!
CAROLYN: Yes, but for some reason you losing money doesn’t make me happy the way Douglas losing
money does.
MARTIN: Oh, well … thank you, I suppose.
CAROLYN: You’re very welcome!
DOUGLAS: Well, sorry to disappoint you, Carolyn, but I have no intention of losing any money. The
landing fees should be pretty light in a tiny airfield like this, and it doesn’t shut ’til five. Plenty of time for
them to fix GERTI.
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Chaps, have we landed?
DOUGLAS: Yes, Arthur. Well spotted.
ARTHUR: Well, er, since you’ve taken away my water boiler, can I order some hot water here?
MARTIN: Yes, of course.
DOUGLAS: No-no-no.
MARTIN: Oh, come on. I’m not flying the length of Africa without coffee. We need hot water.
DOUGLAS: Certainly, but we don’t need to pay thirty Euros for it. There’s an old flying school trick I
know.
MARTIN: Of course there is(!)
DOUGLAS: Arthur, get a wine bottle, fill it with water and, using the asbestos gloves, place it very
carefully on the lip of one of the engine exhausts. Hey presto, boiling water.
CAROLYN: Good heavens. Douglas has discovered his inner Womble.
ARTHUR: But … doesn’t the air come out of the back of those engines pretty fast?
DOUGLAS: Arthur, the engines aren’t on. Clues to this include the aircraft being stationary on the
ground and eerily quiet. But they’ll still be hot from the flight.
ARTHUR: Ah, right! Yes! Because I was thinking, otherwise I might have had a bit of a job …
DOUGLAS: … balancing a wine bottle in a fourteen hundred mile an hour jet blast. Yes, I imagine
you would.

SEÑOR QUINTANILLA (Spanish accent): I am sorry. We have no engineer at this airfield.

DOUGLAS: Right. So what do you do when you need an engineer?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: We call Diego out from the big airport at Albacete.
DOUGLAS: Well, can you do that now, please?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: I can …
DOUGLAS: Then do.
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: … but he won’t come.
CAROLYN: Do you know, I think what I like about this conversation most, Douglas, is that you’re the one
having to have it.
DOUGLAS: Why won’t he come?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: He cannot. His car is broke down.
DOUGLAS: The engineer’s car has broken down?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: Yes.
CAROLYN: That’s not a terribly good sign, is it?
DOUGLAS: Well, can we go and get him?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: I suppose, but how? You have no car.
CAROLYN: Ah. He’s got you there.
DOUGLAS: Can we hire a car?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: Not here. Maybe from the airport at Albacete.
DOUGLAS: The place we want the car to get to.
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: It’s the nearest place.
DOUGLAS: Er, well, can we borrow a car?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: Whose car?
DOUGLAS: Well, I don’t know! Your car!
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA (chuckling): No.
DOUGLAS: Why not?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: It’s a nice car – a BMW.
CAROLYN: Well, Douglas here has an excellent safety record with BMWs. Only last week, he didn’t
drop a brick on one.
DOUGLAS: Carolyn, you’re really not helping.
CAROLYN: I know! I’m not trying to. It’s fun this, isn’t it – chipping in from the sidelines? I can see why
you’re so fond of it.
DOUGLAS: Señor Quintanilla.
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: Si.
DOUGLAS: Surely there is a vehicle somewhere on this airfield we can pay you a hundred Euros to let
us drive to Albacete and back?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: Er, maybe there is something.

(Sound of a low-powered vehicle chugging along.)

ARTHUR (cheerfully singing): ♪ Three men went to mow, went to mow a meadow! Three men, two men,
one man and his dog … ♪
(Silence, apart from the engine.)
ARTHUR: That’s where you say, “Woof woof,” Skip.
MARTIN: No it isn’t.
ARTHUR: I think it is. Because it’s just after the word, “dog,” and dogs go …
MARTIN: I mean I’m not saying, “Woof woof.”
ARTHUR: It would cheer you up.
MARTIN (angrily): We are driving across the Spanish plains in the heat of the day on a sixty mile round
trip on unmade roads in a baggage truck. It’s gonna take more to cheer me up than saying, “Woof woof.”
ARTHUR: Well, if you’re sure. It always cheers me up. Can we have the air conditioning on, please?
MARTIN (incredulously): The ai… There is no air conditioning! Why would you have air conditioning on a
vehicle with no doors?
ARTHUR: To keep it cool.
MARTIN: Arthur, I’m … I really am at the end of my tether here. Could you please just try your hardest
not to say anything?
ARTHUR: … really stupid.
MARTIN: No! Just anything.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. Will do, Skip. Ooh, sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
MARTIN: Stop it!
ARTHUR: Sorry! Dah!
(He finally falls silent.)
MARTIN: Thank you. Now, let’s just try and get through this with the minimum of fuss…
(The vehicle skids to an unexpected halt, its tyres spinning. Martin cries out in surprise, then the
baggage truck falls silent. There’s a pause, broken only by the sound of birds singing nearby.)
MARTIN: Arthur, put your hand down. I know: low bridge.

DOUGLAS (quietly to himself): … and eighty is, er, ten thousand four hundred, plus one hundred …
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Hello, Douglas. Doing your sums?
DOUGLAS: Yes. (Quietly to himself) … and twenty-four plus, er, minus …
CAROLYN (talking over his calculations): Well, I won’t disturb you. Just wondered if you’d heard from
Martin yet.
DOUGLAS: No. He’s not answering his phone. Why isn’t he answering? There’s no point
even doing this if he’s not gonna be back in time.
CAROLYN: Oh, don’t you worry. I’m quite sure he’ll successfully drive his baggage truck to Albacete,
find and pick up the engineer, bring him back in plenty of time to fix the plane by five.
DOUGLAS: Do you think so?
CAROLYN: Not even for a moment. There’s about six hundred ways that plan could go wrong, even if it
wasn’t Martin doing it, and it is Martin doing it – with help, from Arthur.
DOUGLAS (irritated): You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
CAROLYN: I honestly don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a trip more. I only wish I’d thought of this years ago.
This way, if I lose, you lose – which takes the sting out of it enormously; and if I win, I win – and thus … I
win.
DOUGLAS (sarcastically): How nice for you. Oh, blast.
CAROLYN: What?
DOUGLAS: The running total for this trip: twelve thousand and fourteen pounds.
CAROLYN: Oh dear.
DOUGLAS: Of course, when you said, “under twelve thousand,” you didn’t mean literally to the penny –
that would be ridiculous. You meant “to the nearest hundred or so.”
CAROLYN: Ahh. Your little face as you tried to look as if you remotely thought you might get away with
that. A miss is as good as a mile, I’m afraid.
DOUGLAS (determinedly): Right.

(Sound of the baggage truck revving and the tyres spinning.)

ARTHUR: No, i-it’s not budging, Skip.
(The truck revs and skids again. Arthur gets back into the truck and closes the door [which is clever,
seeing as Martin said earlier that the truck doesn’t have doors ...].)
ARTHUR: It’s, er, it’s really firmly wedged under. I think we must have hit the bridge quite hard.
MARTIN: Yes.
ARTHUR: So … what now, Skip?
MARTIN: I don’t know!
ARTHUR: Okay.
(A vehicle’s horn can be heard.)
ARTHUR: Er, Skip – chap behind us wants to come through.
MARTIN: Yeah, I can see that!
ARTHUR: Oh, o-okay. … It’s just, because you weren’t doing anything, I thought you hadn’t seen. …
Umm, I still don’t really know what we’re waiting for.
MARTIN: I’m waiting for … I’m waiting for Douglas to say something sarcastic and then sort it out.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. … Of course, Douglas isn’t here, Skip.
MARTIN: I know that!
ARTHUR: I mean, I can try and fill in, but I-I don’t know how good I’ll be.
(Martin sighs in frustration.)
ARTHUR (deepening his voice in an attempt to sound like Douglas): Er, I’m glad we’re stuck under this
bridge.
MARTIN: Shush, please. Just …
ARTHUR (deep voice): That’s a good thing …
MARTIN: Stop it! You’re not helping. If it comes to that, what are you waiting for?
ARTHUR (normal voice): You to tell me what to do, Skip.
MARTIN: I don’t know!
(Sound of the other vehicle’s horn again, and angry shouting in Spanish. Martin sighs again.)
MARTIN: I mean … all I can think of is, um … i-i-is, I suppose we could – we could let the tyres down.
ARTHUR: Oh, right – and pretend we’ve got a puncture.
MARTIN: No – to lower our height a couple of inches.
ARTHUR (gasping with excitement): Yes, brilliant! Well-well, let’s do that!
MARTIN: Yes, but what have I got wrong?
ARTHUR: Oh, have you got something wrong?
MARTIN: I always get something wrong; and if Douglas were here, he’d point out what.
ARTHUR: Well, he’s not. So … shall we just try it and see?

(Knock on a door, which then opens.)

DOUGLAS: Señor Quintanilla.
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: Hello, yes? Ah, it’s you again.
DOUGLAS: Yes.
CAROLYN: Hello, Señor.
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: And your merry woman.
DOUGLAS: Isn’t she just? Er, now, er, Señor, I’ve just been looking through your airfield bill.
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: Yes?
DOUGLAS: … and I was just wondering i-if there was any possibility at all of reducing it by, say, twenty
Euros?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: Was something not good? Are you not happy?
DOUGLAS: Oh, no, no, everything was good. We’re very happy.
CAROLYN: Me especially.
DOUGLAS: Er, but I would appreciate it as a favour if you felt you could knock off a measly twenty
Euros.
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: This is not a market! I’m not used to haggle. This is a fair price, yes? You do not
think I try to cheat you?
DOUGLAS: No, no! Absolutely not! W-well, look, how about this, then: is there anything we
could do around the airfield while we’re waiting that would be worth twenty Euros to you?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: I suppose … you could wash my car.
DOUGLAS (angrily): I’m not gonna wash your car!
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: I don’t want you to wash my car – I’m trying to help you!
DOUGLAS (calming down): Of course, er, yes. I-I apologise. Which is your car?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: The BMW.
DOUGLAS: How could I forget?(!)
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: Catch!
(Sound of him tossing his car keys to Douglas, who catches them.)
CAROLYN: Douglas, are you going to wash his car? Are you really going to wash his car?! (She
chuckles.) This day just gets better and better!

(The baggage truck is in motion again.)

MARTIN and ARTHUR (singing): ♪ … went to mow a meadow! Six men, five men, four men, three men,
two men, one man and his dog … ♪
ARTHUR: Ouah! Ouah!
MARTIN and ARTHUR (singing): ♪ … went to mow a meadow! ♪
MARTIN: “Ouah, ouah,” Arthur?
ARTHUR: That’s what French dogs say, Skip. I thought I’d do one in French ’cause we’re abroad.
MARTIN: But we’re in Spain.
ARTHUR: I know, but I don’t know what Spanish dogs say. Do you?
MARTIN: No, no, I don’t know what … Spanish … dogs … say.
ARTHUR: What’s the matter?
MARTIN: Sorry – same thing again. I just automatically waited for Douglas to say something sarcastic.
ARTHUR: Yes, he’d have had one in there, wouldn’t he? (He laughs briefly.) What d’you think it would
have been?
MARTIN: I don’t know. However, my young professor of canine linguistics, welcome to Albacete airport!
(The truck has stopped and the boys get out, closing the [non-existent] doors.)
MARTIN: Twenty minutes ahead of schedule, even with stopping to pump the tyres back up.
ARTHUR: Nice work, Skip! It was a brilliant plan!
MARTIN: Oh! Did go rather well, didn’t it? Now, apparently, the engineer’s office is in the green hangar.
That must be … that one there! Follow me.
ARTHUR: Right.
(They start to walk.)
MARTIN: Gosh. Sunny, isn’t it?
(There’s the creak of the hinge on a spectacles case.)
ARTHUR: Wow! Skip! Are those new? They’re brilliant!
MARTIN: Oh, d’you like them? Picked them up at the garage. They’re called aviator shades.
ARTHUR: They’re amazing! You look like one of those guys in Top Gear!
MARTIN: God, do I? Which one? Not Clarkson?
ARTHUR: No, Tom Cruise.
MARTIN: Top Gun, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Oh, yeah!
MARTIN (sighing happily): Ah, I’ve always wanted a pair of these.
ARTHUR: Well, why didn’t you get one?
MARTIN: I suppose I thought Douglas would probably be a … well, pretty funny about them.
ARTHUR: Oh yeah. Yes, he-he will be, won’t he?
MARTIN: Yeah, I’ll take them off quickly before we get back.
ARTHUR: Yeah. Probably best. You know, Douglas is great, obviously – I mean, he’s brilliant – but this is
quite nice, isn’t it? Like a little holiday.
MARTIN (thoughtfully): Yes. Yes, it is.
(They have stopped walking.)
ARTHUR: Right. Is this it?
MARTIN: … Yes.
ARTHUR: Oh. Er, Skip? It looks a bit …
MARTIN: … closed.
ARTHUR: Yeah.
MARTIN: Why would it be closed on a Tuesday?
ARTHUR: I-I don’t know.
MARTIN (exasperated): Oh, well, that’s it, then. We’re done for! Should have known. The thing with the
bridge was just to make it all the worse when inevitably …
ARTHUR: Yes, but you can think of something, Skip! You were brilliant last time!
MARTIN: … Oh. Well … Now, we could, um, try and find the manager here and see if we can get the
engineer’s home address, drive into town … Ah, but it’ll be too late. We have to get in the air before five
and it’s … what, two fifteen now… Oh!
ARTHUR: What?
MARTIN: Two fifteen in Spain! Siesta!
ARTHUR: What’s that?
MARTIN: It’s when they stop work for a couple of hours after lunch to have a sleep.
ARTHUR: Wow! Can we start doing that?!
MARTIN: And since the airport’s so far from the town, I wouldn’t be surprised if they … Let’s just try.
(He bangs loudly on the metal door of the hangar.)
MARTIN (loudly): Hello! Hello! El … engineero! Wake up, please!
ARTHUR: Skip!
MARTIN: Please answer, por favor! It’s important!
(He bangs on the door again.)
MARTIN: Très importante! Will pay extra – bonus lucre! Gracias!
(Silence.)
MARTIN: No, of course not. Well, that would just be too …
MAN’s VOICE (from inside the hangar): ¿Qui es? ¿Qué quieren?
MARTIN (triumphantly): Yes!
ARTHUR: That’s brilliant, Skip!
MARTIN: Oh. D’you think so? Huh!

(Sound of a cloth sploshing in a bucket of water.)

CAROLYN: Ah, there you are, Douglas. I couldn’t find you.
DOUGLAS: But then you did.
CAROLYN: But then I did. Why are you hiding behind the aircraft?
DOUGLAS: I’m not hiding.
CAROLYN: Not any more, certainly. And, my, what an excellent job you’re doing. You’re a demon with
that chamois leather.
DOUGLAS: Have you come to help?
CAROLYN: Even better than that. I’ve come to watch.
DOUGLAS: That’s not better.
CAROLYN: Oh, I’m sorry. I meant better for me. It’s a lot better for me.
(Squeak of hinges on a metal beach chair.)
DOUGLAS: You’ve … brought a deckchair?
CAROLYN: I always keep one in the hold for just such an occasion.
(She sighs contentedly as she sits down.)
CAROLYN: This is the life.
(More splashing of the chamois leather in the bucket.)
CAROLYN: You know, I think this would be my Luxury if I was on Desert Island Discs.
DOUGLAS: A deckchair?
CAROLYN: No – you washing a car. I think I could endure almost any hardship as long as I had the
Bible and Shakespeare, Palgrave’s Golden Treasury, and the sight of First Officer Douglas Richardson
grumpily soaping a wheel arch.
DOUGLAS: Two thousand pounds, Carolyn. Remember that. That’s what it’s going to cost you.
CAROLYN: Cheap at twice the price; and that’s only if Martin gets back in time – and, really, what are
the chances of that?

MARTIN and ARTHUR (singing): ♪ … Six men, five men, four men, three men, two men, one man and
his dog … ♪
MARTIN: Diego?
DIEGO: Wao! Wao!
MARTIN and ARTHUR: ♪ … went to mow a meadow! ♪
MARTIN: “Wao, wao”? When have you ever heard a dog say, “Wao, wao”?
DIEGO (Spanish accent): Every time I have heard a dog, he have said to me, “Wao, wao.”
MARTIN: Then you, Señor, have been speaking to some very peculiar dogs. Arthur, where are we up to?
ARTHUR: Thirty-two!
MARTIN: Very well: on my count, gentlemen. One, two, three!
MARTIN and ARTHUR (singing): ♪ Thirty-two men went to mow, went to mow a meadow … ♪

DOUGLAS (sighing in exasperation): Twenty to five. That’s definitely it, then.

CAROLYN: You’ve said that every five minutes since four o’clock.
DOUGLAS: Yes! But there’s no way we can do it now, even if …
(He breaks off as distant but approaching singing can be heard.)
MARTIN and ARTHUR: ♪ … three men, two men, one man and his … ♪
DOUGLAS: Oh, look!
MARTIN: Elephant!
DIEGO: Prah! Prah!
MARTIN and ARTHUR (finishing up grandly as everyone gets out of the truck and slams non-existent
doors): ♪ … went to mow a meadow! ♪
MARTIN: “Prah, prah”? Diego, really?
DIEGO: Of course.
DOUGLAS: Martin! Good lord! Maverick flies again.
MARTIN: Hello, Douglas. Can I suggest you save all the jokes about my shades for now and we’ll have
them in a nice long stream once we get airborne. In the meantime, Carolyn, Douglas – this is Diego: a
fine engineer, a useful light baritone and a man with an inexhaustible knowledge of how Spanish animals
go. Diego, do your Spanish cockerel.
DIEGO: Ki-kiri-ki!
MARTIN: … Yep, that’s my favourite one. Now, then, Diego, here’s the wing. Get to work. Arthur, park
the truck.
ARTHUR: Er, where?
MARTIN: Er, well behind the plane, by that … wet car. You two, get on board and prepare to leave
immediately!
DOUGLAS: But Martin, we’ve only got twenty minutes before they shut the Tower. He can’t possibly fix it
…
MARTIN: Certainly he can. A man who can imitate a Spanish squirrel helping forty-eight men mow a
meadow is capable of anything. Now, come on: we have to get a move on.
DOUGLAS: In other words, you feel the need – the need for speed.
MARTIN: Seriously, Douglas. Save them for later.

(Flight deck door opens.)

MARTIN (breathlessly): Done.
DOUGLAS: You did the walk-round?
MARTIN: Yes!
DOUGLAS: In forty-five seconds?
MARTIN (still catching his breath): More of a jog-around but I saw everything I needed to see.
DOUGLAS: But your walk-rounds take days!
MARTIN: Well, maybe I’ve gained a little faith in my instincts as a pilot. Now, how are we doing?
DOUGLAS: Seven minutes to five. Cabin ready; pre-take-off checks done. How about the anti-icing?
MARTIN: Diego’s still looking at it.
DOUGLAS: Well, then, why are we bothering? There’s no way …
(Knock on the flight deck door.)
MARTIN: A-ha! Come in!
(Flight deck door opens.)
MARTIN: Diego. Anti-icing all fixed?
DIEGO: No.
DOUGLAS: Ah.
MARTIN: Then what were you doing up there? Go and fix it.
DIEGO: Not fixed because not broken.
MARTIN: Not broken?
DIEGO: No. He is very well.
MARTIN: But it was. It was definitely broken. Look – the little orange warning light’s on.
DIEGO: Oh. Let me see. … Yes. Little orange warning light – he is broken.
(Sound of Diego thumping the console.)
DIEGO: There! All better!
MARTIN: … Right. Thank you, Diego. Now, quick – get off the plane!
(Flight deck door closes.)
DOUGLAS: Right. So all of this was in aid of a dodgy warning light.
MARTIN: Yes, well, just one of those things. Could have happened to anyone.
DOUGLAS: Could have done, but actually happened to …
MARTIN (interrupting): … to both of us. You didn’t give the light a thump any more than I did. Anyway,
it’s agood thing! It means it’s fixed now! We can still get away in time; we can still get in under budget.
DOUGLAS: But …?
MARTIN: Douglas, be quiet.
(Intercom on.)
MARTIN (into intercom): All ready in the back?
CAROLYN (over intercom): All ready.
MARTIN (flicking switches): Right. Air con?
DOUGLAS (also flicking switches): Off.
MARTIN: Anti-collision light?
DOUGLAS: On.
MARTIN: Fuel pump switches?
DOUGLAS: On.
(Radio on.)
MARTIN (into radio): Hello, ground. Are we cleared to start number one?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA (over radio): Cleared to start number one.
MARTIN: Starting one.
(GERTI’s engine begins to rev up.)
DOUGLAS: So, do I take it you had some sort of mystical awakening on your road trip?
MARTIN: No, nothing like that. I just had cause to remember that I am not, in fact, quite as incapable as
it suits certain people to make out.
DOUGLAS: Well, if it earns us a grand each, I’m all in favour of it. Engine stable.
MARTIN: Thank you. Fuel flow.
(Sound of a lever being pushed. GERTI’s engine tone goes up a notch … then there’s a loud bang,
followed by smashing glass and then a car alarm.)
DOUGLAS: Engine malfunction, number one.
MARTIN: Shutting down number one!
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA (over radio as the engine powers down again): What have you done? What
have you done?!
MARTIN (into radio): W-we don’t know! What’s happened? What did you see?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: You have fired a missile from your plane!
MARTIN: Is anyone hurt?
SEÑOR QUINTANILLA: My BMW! My BMW is hurt! You fire your missile straight into my car!
DOUGLAS: … Martin. In the course of your jog-round, did you happen to instinctively notice whether
Arthur had retrieved the bottle of water from the engine exhaust?
(Martin whines in anguish. There’s a snapping of plastic.)
DOUGLAS: Oh Martin. You’ve broken your new shades.

SEASON 2 – EPISODE 5: Kuala Lumpur

(Radio on.)
FITTON AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL (over radio): Welcome home, Golf Tango India. Vacate runway to
your right and taxi to your stand.
MARTIN (flicking switches): Thank you, Karl. Oh, incidentally, be advised: as we landed we saw a large
hawk or kestrel about fifty feet from the runway.
KARL: Noted, Golf Tango India. What was it doing?
DOUGLAS: Watching how it’s supposed to be done.

This week, Kuala Lumpur!

(Portacabin office door opens.)

ARTHUR: Mum? Can I borrow your car?
CAROLYN: Why? What’s wrong with your car?
ARTHUR: It’s really old and it’s a horrible colour and it smells of duffel coats.
CAROLYN: Well, what’s wrong with it that’s stopping you driving it?
ARTHUR: Only those things, but I thought since we were on standby this week, I might go for some
drives in anice car, like yours.
CAROLYN: No you won’t – because you and I will be using this week to see if we can ease your
stewarding skills up above that crucial dividing line between Very Bad and merely Bad. I’m going to be
your Mystery Passenger.
ARTHUR: Brilliant! Will there be clues?
CAROLYN: I mean we are going to sit in the plane and you’re going to practise serving me.
ARTHUR: Right! So what’s the mystery?
CAROLYN: The mystery is who I am.
ARTHUR: And who are you?
CAROLYN: I’m me.
ARTHUR: That’s not very mysterious.
CAROLYN (wearily): Oh, life’s too short. You and I are going to pretend to be a steward and a
passenger …
ARTHUR: Ah, right! Bagsie be the steward!
(Knock on the door, which then opens.)
MARTIN: Hello, Carolyn? Um, just had a thought.
CAROLYN: Oh good! A pilot with a thought! How the gods smile upon me.
MARTIN: It just occurred to me, for weeks like this, we really ought to have a pilots’ lounge.
CAROLYN (sternly): A what?
MARTIN: A pilots’ lounge.
CAROLYN: Martin, the very last thing I want to do is encourage either of you to do any more lounging
than you already do.
MARTIN: It wouldn’t be for lounging in. It would be for our briefings; doing our log books. I thought
maybe each month one of us could present a paper on some aspect of aviation that interests us.
CAROLYN: And to think, a moment ago, I thought the idea couldn’t sound less appealing.
ARTHUR: But, Mum, you-you could make money out of it. You could sell drinks.
CAROLYN: Without a licence – to pilots?!
ARTHUR: No-no, I mean tea and coffee and things – to David and George from Engineering, and the
fire crew, and Karl the ATC; even Dirk the grounds man.
MARTIN: Er, no, no, no – i-it would be a pilots’ lounge, not for those guys – for the pilots.
ARTHUR: But that doesn’t make sense. I’m not a pilot.
MARTIN: No.
ARTHUR: But I’d be allowed in.
MARTIN: No.
ARTHUR: Oh!
CAROLYN: Martin, if you can find an empty room on the airfield, you are welcome to sit in it; and if you
can lure Douglas in and then keep him there long enough to read a paper at him, you’re a better man
than I am, Gunga Din. Close the door on your way out.
MARTIN: But …
CAROLYN: On which, you should now go. I’m sorry; I thought that was implied.

(Sound of someone rattling a door handle in an attempt to open the door. Voices are a little echoey.)
ARTHUR: Any good, Skip?
MARTIN: No, Arthur, because it’s locked.
ARTHUR: Ah. Ooh! I’ll tell you where you could try, though – how about that scrap DC-10 fuselage out
round the back of the hangar? I mean, it’s probably full of rats and cobwebs and skeletons, but if we
clean it up …
MARTIN: That’s actually not a bad idea.
(Footsteps as they head outdoors.)
MARTIN: Tell you what, though, Arthur: if it does turn out to be suitable, I thought we might strike a
happy compromise between my idea of keeping it just for pilots and your idea of inviting everyone who
works on the airfield.
ARTHUR: What would that be?
MARTIN: Just the pilots. And you.
ARTHUR: Ooh! So I’d be like an honorary pilot!
MARTIN: No, you’d just be … you.
ARTHUR: Great! Although, the engineers and everyone are really good fun. George does these brilliant
impressions of fruit.
MARTIN: Yes, I’m-I’m sure they’re great, but-but what I want is a nice civilised arena to compare notes
with my fellow professionals.
(Footsteps stop.)
MARTIN: Right, here it is.
(Distant sound of laughter.)
MARTIN: Is there … is there someone in there?!
ARTHUR: Sounds like it.
(Fuselage door opens.)
GEORGE: All right, next one, next one, next one, right? Number twelve: the conference pear!
(Raucous cheering from several people.)
ARTHUR: Wow! Dave! George! Everyone! Hi!
GEORGE (nervously, as everyone else falls silent): Arthur! Captain Crieff!
MARTIN: Can someone please tell me what the hell’s going on in here?
DOUGLAS: Hallo, Martin.
MARTIN: Douglas!
DOUGLAS: Welcome to the Flap and Throttle.
(Cheers from everyone else.)

(Outside the fuselage.)

ARTHUR: What a brilliant place, Douglas!
MARTIN: How long’s it been going on?
DOUGLAS: We just had our third anniversary, actually.
MARTIN: So before I even got here?
DOUGLAS: Yes.
MARTIN: Why didn’t you tell me about it?
DOUGLAS: Well, we were just waiting for you to settle in – you know, get comfortable with everyone.
MARTIN: I’ve been here a year and a half!
DOUGLAS: And we’re still waiting.
MARTIN: I see. So it’s an illegal pub for everyone who works on the airfield except me.
DOUGLAS: Well, to be honest, I didn’t think you’d approve.
MARTIN: I don’t approve!
DOUGLAS: I thought you might have told Carolyn or the airfield manager.
MARTIN: I might have done!
DOUGLAS: Right. So that’s why we didn’t tell you.
ARTHUR: Yeah, but why didn’t you tell me?
DOUGLAS: Because it was a secret, Arthur, and you are – without a shadow of a doubt – the worst liar
in the world.
ARTHUR (indignantly): I’m not!
DOUGLAS: All right: answer this question with a lie. What’s your name?
ARTHUR: Arth… nold … man, er … cat, sir, man.
DOUGLAS: Arthnold Manercatsirman.
ARTHUR (dubiously): Yeah.
DOUGLAS: That’s an unusual name. Tell me: is it made-up?
ARTHUR: Yes, it is. Oh!
DOUGLAS: You see, that’s the sort of trick question you wanna watch for. I’ll tell you a secret: the way to
lie convincingly is never make something up. Just tell a different truth. So, if you have to lie about where
you were today, tell them where you really were last week.
ARTHUR: Ah.
DOUGLAS: If you have to give a false name, use a real name you already know. Try again: what’s your
name?
ARTHUR (after a moment’s thought): Douglas Richardson!
DOUGLAS: Better. Not quite perfect.
(Sound of a siren.)
ARTHUR: Oh. I forgot. Mum’s waiting for me in the plane.
MARTIN: What for?
ARTHUR: She’s being my Mystery Passenger.
DOUGLAS: Well, good luck. Let us know if you work out who she is.
ARTHUR: Right-o!
MARTIN (as Arthur walks away): Douglas – an illegal pub on an airfield
is incredibly dangerous and irresponsible.
DOUGLAS: Don’t be so melodramatic. No-one drinks when they’re on duty. It’s just a bit of fun. It’s more
about the secret club atmosphere – you know, like at school.
MARTIN: Not at my school.
DOUGLAS: Oh, come on! You must have had secret clubs in the lunch break at least!
MARTIN: No, actually. People weren’t really around during lunch break. I think they went home or …
(He trails off.)
MARTIN: Oh.
DOUGLAS: Ah.
MARTIN: Well, anyway, I-I-I thought you didn’t drink? I thought you hadn’t had a drink for nine years?
DOUGLAS: Martin, that is a secret. I have carefully built up my reputation as a hard-boozing sky god,
and I’m not having you spoil it.
MARTIN: So what do you drink there?
DOUGLAS: If you must know – you know every year I win a bottle of Talisker single malt from Carolyn?
MARTIN: Steal.
DOUGLAS: Win. Well, I keep it in the Flap and Throttle. Everyone knows it’s for my personal use only.
Not everyone knows it’s refilled with apple juice.
MARTIN: Well, Douglas, look, I’m sorry. Either you close it down immediately or I’ll be forced to inform
Carolyn.
DOUGLAS: I can’t close it down. It’s not my pub. If you want it stopped, you’ll have to come down and
tell them yourself – all the mechanics, the engineers, the fire crew … Dirk the grounds man.
MARTIN: I’m not afraid of them!
DOUGLAS: Nor should you be – not even Dirk.
MARTIN: Well, I’m not.
DOUGLAS: Good.
MARTIN: Why not even Dirk?
DOUGLAS: No reason. I just mean, someone who was afraid of them would probably start by being
afraid of Dirk. It’s the natural place to start.
MARTIN: Well, I’m not! And I’ll come and tell them this evening.
DOUGLAS: Ooh! Full moon!
MARTIN: Stop it!

CAROLYN: Arthur, where have you been? I told you to meet me in the cabin half an hour ago.
ARTHUR: Sorry, Mum. I’ve been … I’ve been to the dentist.
CAROLYN: Oh, have you?
ARTHUR: Yes, I have. He said I’ve been brushing really well but to watch out for my gums.
CAROLYN: Right – so no real change since last week, then, when I took you.
ARTHUR: Oh yeah.
CAROLYN: Leave the lying to Douglas, dear. He’s the professional. So: it’s a normal flight; I’m the
passengers; you’re you. Off we go.
ARTHUR: W-wait-wait. Where are we going?
CAROLYN: Well, it doesn’t matter. Er, Pisa.
ARTHUR (disappointed): Oh! We went to Pisa last week.
CAROLYN: Well, where do you want us to go, then?
ARTHUR: Kuala Lumpur.
CAROLYN: Why Kuala Lumpur?
ARTHUR: It’s like Helsinki: I’ve always wanted to go there. It sounds like …
CAROLYN (interrupting): Arthur. Let me warn you: I am not in the best of tempers and I strongly advise
you notto start talking about a city populated by either koalas or Oompa Loompas.
ARTHUR: … I have nothing to say.
CAROLYN: Good! And … go! (In a posher voice) Excuse me, steward. Where can I smoke my
cigarette?
ARTHUR: Oh! I’m sorry, madam … This is brilliant! It’s like acting!
CAROLYN (normal voice): Get on with it!
ARTHUR: I’m sorry, madam, er, but for your happy convenience, cigarettes may not be enjoyed
anywhere on board at this time.
CAROLYN: Oh. All right. What about this pipe?
ARTHUR: … I’m not sure. Um, let me just ask my …
CAROLYN: She’s not on board.
ARTHUR: Oh, okay. Er, well I … I-I’m gonna go for ‘no’. Sorry.
CAROLYN: A reefer?
ARTHUR: I don’t.
CAROLYN: It’s medicinal.
ARTHUR: Ooh, medicinal! Well, I expect, er …
CAROLYN: No!
ARTHUR: No! I expect no! That’s what I was gonna say: I expect definitely not!
CAROLYN: Arthur. Here are the things you can smoke on board …
ARTHUR: Ooh, no, hang on, wait. I’ll write it down.
CAROLYN: You don’t need to write it down! It’s nothing! You can’t smoke anything on the plane.
ARTHUR: Nothing.
CAROLYN: Nothing.
ARTHUR: … I’d still quite like to write it down.
(Drinking glasses clink.)
DOUGLAS: Okay, he’s on his way. Now, remember: we’re aiming for something between the bar
in Cheers and the Mess Hall in Dam Busters; and I know you’d think if you use “Captain” in every
sentence he’ll think you’re taking the piss, but actually, he won’t. Right, here he is.
(The fuselage door opens. Everyone cheers.)
DOUGLAS: Welcome, Martin, to the Flap and Throttle.
GEORGE: Pleasure to see you here, Captain.
DAVE: An honour, Captain, a real honour.
MARTIN: What’s going on?
DOUGLAS: I mentioned you were coming down and, well, everyone was very excited.
MARTIN: Well … I hope you told them why I was coming.
DOUGLAS: Of course not. That’s your job.
DAVE: Now it’s a proper club, isn’t it?
GEORGE: Yeah. It’s all very well havin’ the first officer down ’ere, but the captain, Captain – that’s
different.
MARTIN: Then … why didn’t you ask me?
DAVE: Never thought you’d accept, Captain.
GEORGE: We thought you’d be one of those standoffish captains, Captain – too grand to mix with the
ground staff.
MARTIN (clearing his throat awkwardly): Yes, well … Look, you don’t have to call me “Captain” all the
time, you know.
GEORGE: Oh, right.
MARTIN: “Skipper” will do.
DAVE: Thanks, Skipper. Appreciate it.
MARTIN: Well, all right, listen … er, men. Er, the fact is …
DAVE: No, hang on, hang on, hang on. Can’t have the skipper giving a speech without a glass in his
hand. What you havin’, Skipper?
GEORGE: No, no. I’m the chief engineer. I get to buy Skip a drink.
MARTIN: Ah, well, this – this is just it. Er, I-I-I-I’m afraid I simply can’t …
DOUGLAS (interrupting): Martin, a quick word.
MARTIN: Now?
DOUGLAS: Operational matter.
MARTIN: All right.
DOUGLAS (quietly): Martin, it’s up to you, of course, but I just thought I should let you know: these
people are very proud. In their culture, there’s nothing more insulting than to spurn a gift. It’s a terrible
loss of face.
MARTIN: What, engineers?! A-are you sure you’re not thinking of the Japanese?
DOUGLAS: Well, there’s so many great Japanese engineers, the culture’s rubbed off on them.
MARTIN: Douglas, I can’t allow an illegal bar to operate on an airfield property, still less partake myself.
What would Carolyn say if she found out?
DOUGLAS: I don’t know. Then again, these guys are all self-employed. If you close down their pub,
they’ll probably refuse to work for us, and then MJN would fold instantly. I don’t know what she’d say
about that, either. But it’s your choice.
GEORGE: ’ere we are, Skipper. Your first pint at the Flap and Throttle.
DAVE: First of many.
MARTIN: No, really, stop it. You-you must understand, I really cannot accept this drink.
(Silence falls.)
GEORGE: You can’t accept it?
DAVE: Well, why not, Skipper?
MARTIN: … Because … as the skipper … first round is my round!
(Cheering.)

CAROLYN: All right. Today, we’re going to build on yesterda… We’re not going to let yesterday get us
down. Now, let’s see you taking meal orders. Go.
ARTHUR: Hello, madam. Chicken or beef?
CAROLYN: Beef, please.
ARTHUR: Okay. … How did I do?
CAROLYN: Keep going!
ARTHUR: Oh. Er, right-o. Hallo, madam. Chicken or beef?
CAROLYN: Chicken, please.
ARTHUR: You said, “Beef,” just now.
CAROLYN: I was being someone different!
ARTHUR: That’s pretty confusing, Mum. Couldn’t you at least do a different voice?
CAROLYN: No I couldn’t!
ARTHUR: Please? Because in real life they’d have different voices. And faces.
CAROLYN: Oh, all right. (In a bad Scottish accent) Chicken, please.
ARTHUR: Certainly, madam! And for you, madam?
CAROLYN (deep voice): Sir.
ARTHUR: I beg your pardon, sir. Er, chicken or beef?
CAROLYN (deep voice): How is the chicken cooked?
ARTHUR: Four minutes on ‘defrost’; shake the bag; three minutes on ‘full’.
CAROLYN (normal voice): No! Don’t tell them that!
ARTHUR: Sorry, are you being you again, or him, or one of the others?
CAROLYN: Me! Just don’t tell him we reheat it.
ARTHUR: Well, he must know! I mean, obviously we don’t have a whole kitchen back there! He’s not
stupid.
CAROLYN: Yes he is. Everyone on this plane is stupid until proved otherwise.
ARTHUR: Shall I put that on the list?
CAROLYN: Isn’t it there already?
ARTHUR (unfolding a piece of paper): Er, “The customer is always: Wrong ; Rude ; Late ; Witless ; Loud
; Drunk ; Thieving; and Sly.” I suppose “Witless” sort of covers stupid.
CAROLYN: Oh, I don’t know. Stick “Stupid” down as well. Have you got “Rude”?
ARTHUR (consulting his paper again): Er, yep.
CAROLYN: Put it down again. It’s a good one.

(Background conversation.)
DOUGLAS: You say that, Dave, but they equalised within ten minutes, so I-I don’t …
(Fuselage door opens and closes.)
MARTIN: Evening, chaps!
DOUGLAS: Oh, hello, Martin.
DAVE and GEORGE (disinterestedly): All right?
MARTIN: Sorry. I-I didn’t mean to interrupt. Er, carry on.
DAVE: Oh, we were just talkin’ about, er … Did you see the match, Skipper?
MARTIN: The … match? No, I missed the match. I-I think we were on a trip.
GEORGE: It only finished twenty minutes ago.
MARTIN: Oh, that match! Oh, I was thinking of another match. No, I didn’t see that one either. I missed
… missed both the matches.
DAVE: Right. Well, I was just sayin’, City never had a hope once they were down to ten.
MARTIN: Yes, well, a-as I say, I missed it.
DAVE: Yeah, but you see what I’m sayin’?
MARTIN: Oh yeah … yeah! Yeah, of course, yes, I see what you’re saying. Ten’s … ten’s not enough.
You need a lot more than-than ten!
DAVE: Well, you need eleven.
MARTIN: That’s what I mean – eleven, yes! That’s what you need. Not ten.
GEORGE: Who do you support, Skipper?
MARTIN: In football?
GEORGE: Yeah.
MARTIN: England. W… no, I mean obviously, er, England … and … er … United.
DAVE: Which United?
MARTIN (very hesitantly): Nottingham.
DAVE: Nottingham United? Never ’eard of ’em. What league are they in?
MARTIN: I don’t follow that closely, actually.
GEORGE: Yeah, but you must know what league they’re in.
DOUGLAS: In many ways, they’re in a league of their own. Aren’t they, Martin?
MARTIN: Yes, that’s right.
(He laughs nervously.)
GEORGE: Right. (He chuckles.) You from up Nottingham way originally, then?
MARTIN: No – Wokingham. Down Wokingham way!
DAVE: Why’d you pick Nottingham to follow, then?
MARTIN: Well … Nottingham, Wokingham – they sound very similar.
(Awkward silence for a moment.)
MARTIN: Tell you what, though, George, er, you’ll be interested in this. You know that little Cherokee that
was out doing circuits today? Well, on his third landing, he …
(Cries of “Ohh!” from everyone, as someone repeatedly rings a bell behind the bar.)
GEORGE, DAVE and OTHERS: Oh, shop! (This gradually turns into a chant of “Shop, shop, shop,
shop!”)
MARTIN (anxiously): What’s going on?! What have I done?!
DAVE: Talkin’ shop, Skip. Sorry – automatic round forfeit.
MARTIN: What?!
DOUGLAS: Flap and Throttle house rules, I’m afraid, Martin. Anyone caught talking shop has to buy a
round for the whole bar.
MARTIN: Then, how d’you talk about flying?
GEORGE: Well, you can’t, can you? That’s the point.
MARTIN: So what d’you talk about?
DAVE: I dunno! Music, sport, women!
GEORGE: The meanin’ o’ life. Anything but bloody planes, eh?
MARTIN: Yes. Yeah, of course. (Sadly, his voice getting quieter) Yeah, who wants to talk about stupid …
aviation?
(The bell begins to ring again and everyone takes up a new chant.)
EVERYONE: A-bomb! A-bomb!
DOUGLAS: Oh, come on! Go easy on him, chaps! He’s new!
DAVE: A-bomb!
DOUGLAS: Oh, all right, fine. Sorry, Martin. The “A” word is banned.
MARTIN (nervously): Oh, I-I-I see. (He chuckles.) A-another round for everyone?
GEORGE: Ooh!
DOUGLAS: No – I’m afraid having two consecutive forfeits incurs a Whoops Johnny.
(The patrons laugh gleefully.)
MARTIN: A what?!
EVERYONE (in a chant): Whoops-Johnny-Johnny-Johnny, Whoops-Johnny, Whoops-Johnny-Johnny-
Johnny-Johnny!
(They all cheer.)
MARTIN (his voice full of dread): Oh God.

CAROLYN: Okay, same as yesterday. You’ve got chicken or beef; but today I’ll throw in some unusual
diets.
ARTHUR: Great. Don’t forget to do the voices! … Hallo, sir or madam.
CAROLYN (in a sort of Southern American voice): Madam.
ARTHUR: Madam. Er, would you like chicken or beef?
CAROLYN (same American voice): Well, now, that all depends. You see, I’m a celiac.
ARTHUR: Ooh! Lovely! Chicken or beef?
CAROLYN (American): It means I’m gluten-intolerant.
ARTHUR: Well, I’ll-I’ll try not to be too … gluten annoying.
CAROLYN (American): It means I can’t eat gluten.
ARTHUR: … We’ve got chicken or beef.
CAROLYN (American): Gluten is in wheat products.
ARTHUR: Oh, right! Yeah, with you. Erm, I think they’re both fine.
CAROLYN (American): No wheat in either?
ARTHUR: Don’t think so.
CAROLYN (American): Right. Then I will have the chicken.
ARTHUR: Okey-dokey.
CAROLYN (in her normal voice): Which is coated in breadcrumbs, so I’ll have a violent reaction, my
airways will swell up and maybe I’ll die.
ARTHUR: Perhaps the beef.
CAROLYN: Arthur, what things are made of wheat?
ARTHUR: Er, wheat cakes … Weetabix … those little straw dollies …
CAROLYN: Bread! Bread is made of wheat.
ARTHUR (smiling disbelievingly): No.
CAROLYN: Yes! What did you think it was made of?
ARTHUR: It’s not made of anything! It’s just … bread.
CAROLYN: So where does it come from?
ARTHUR: Well, I don’t know. It …
(Long pause.)
ARTHUR: Wow!

DOUGLAS: Five, four, three, two, one.

(A watch or clock alarm bleeps.)
DOUGLAS: And so ends another eventful shift. Right, Martin, see you in the Flap and Throttle later?
MARTIN (unhappily): Yes.
DOUGLAS: Good! And don’t forget to bring your shin pads. It’s Skittles night!
MARTIN: Why-why-why do I need shin pads for Skittles?
DOUGLAS: Oh, the way we play it, if you’re not bowling you’re a skittle.
MARTIN: Oh God.
DOUGLAS: You all right?
MARTIN: No.
DOUGLAS: Why not?
MARTIN (frantically): I hate it! Douglas, I really, really, really hate it. I hate the drinking games and the
pop quizzes and the round forfeits and the competitive farting, and the Whoops Johnnys and
the bloody anchovies …
DOUGLAS: If it’s any consolation, I thought you coped very well with being anchovied. You had a real
quiet dignity.
MARTIN: I just can’t stand it!
DOUGLAS: Well, I suppose you could – it would be a wrench for all of us, of course – but you could stop
coming in.
MARTIN: No! I can’t!
DOUGLAS: Can’t you?
MARTIN: Of course not! You saw what it was like when I first arrived: they were overjoyed! They
said I made it a proper club; and they said it proved I wasn’t standoffish, so if I stop going now, it’ll prove
I am standoffish. I-I only wish I’d never found out about the wretched place. And now I know about it, I
have to go! I’m trapped – I’m trapped-trapped like a …
(He pauses as he seeks the right word.)
DOUGLAS: … tinned anchovy?

CAROLYN: All right. Today we’re going to put everything we’ve covered so far together. I might
throw anythingat you – possibly literally. Are you ready?
ARTHUR (a little nervously): Yeah. And … if I manage it, can I borrow your car?
CAROLYN: Arthur, you haven’t managed any of these things on their own. What makes you think you
can handle them together?
ARTHUR: I can’t eat eggs and flour and sugar on their own, but I can eat cake.
CAROLYN: … All right – but only if you really manage it.
ARTHUR: Actually, I can eat eggs on their own. And sugar. And flour.
CAROLYN: Go! (She impersonates ringing the service bell.) Ding-ding! (In a very posh voice) I say,
steward, can my little girl go up on the flight deck for landing?
ARTHUR: Er, yes, I’m sure that’s fine.
CAROLYN (normal voice): No!
ARTHUR: Oh!
CAROLYN: It’s against the law.
ARTHUR: Right.
CAROLYN: Ding-ding! (In a Welsh accent) Excuse me. Could you let the oxygen masks down so we can
have a practice with them?
ARTHUR: Er, yes, of course. I’ll just go and …
CAROLYN (normal voice): No! You can’t! Ding-ding! (In the voice of an elderly woman) Excuse me,
dear, I’m blind. Could you guide me to the toilet?
ARTHUR: No! No I can’t!
CAROLYN (normal voice): Yes! Yes you can!
ARTHUR: Yes! Yes I can!
CAROLYN: Ding-ding! (In a deep voice, pretending to be a man) Excuse me – I’m still waiting for my
whiskey.
ARTHUR: Er, yes …
CAROLYN: Ding-ding! (In a French accent) And when are you going to take away my tray?
(Arthur flails wordlessly.)
CAROLYN: Ding-ding! (In a little girl’s voice) Mister, my tummy feels funny.
ARTHUR (hysterically): Shut up! All of you shut up!
CAROLYN (normal voice): Arthur, you can’t …
ARTHUR: You too! Right, French lady, I’ll take your tray; you show the blind lady to the loo.
CAROLYN (French accent): No! Zis is not my job!
ARTHUR: Just do it! And Mr. Powell, could you please …
CAROLYN (normal voice): Who’s Mr. Powell?
ARTHUR: The man who wants his whiskey. I have to give them names or it’s just confusing. And he
looks like Mr. Powell who taught me history.
CAROLYN: Arthur, he looks like me!
ARTHUR: Mum, excuse me, I am trying to talk to Mr. Powell. Mr. Powell, could you look after the little
girl, please?
CAROLYN (deep voice): I will do nothing of the sort! I’m a passenger!
ARTHUR: Okay, in that case: ding-ding! (In an Australian accent) Hi – don’t worry, mate, I’ll look after the
little Sheila! (In his normal voice) Oh, thank you so much. (Australian accent) No worries, mate!
CAROLYN: Arthur! You cannot be passengers!
ARTHUR: You never said I couldn’t! Ding-ding! (In a high-pitched Scottish accent) And I’ll show the blind
lady to the loo! (Normal voice) Thank you! (Scottish accent) Oh, it’s ma pleasure, hoots!
CAROLYN: Arthur!
ARTHUR (increasingly frenetically): Shush! So, Bluey, you’ll look after the little girl. (Australian
accent) Yip!(Normal voice) Mrs Badcrumble, you’ll look after the blind lady. (Scottish accent) Aye, I
will. (Normal voice)Madame Froufrou, let me take your tray. Mr. Powell, here’s your whiskey. Now ding-
ding, the seatbelt signs are on. Everybody sit down and shut up!
(Slight pause.)
ARTHUR (calmer): How did I do?
CAROLYN: Well, it’s not how they teach it in the training courses but I have to admit, it is what I might
have done. Here: (jingle of car keys) catch.
(Sound of the keys being thrown and then caught.)

MARTIN: So, I mean, I-I was within limits but it was a ticklish little crosswind – sixty, sixty-five, but
gusting seventy – and I thought to myself, ‘Well, I have seven options here …’
DAVE (despairingly): Seven.
MARTIN: Ah! Quite right, Dave, yes! Eight. (He chuckles.) You see, I’d been given the one-nine runway
but … d-d’you know the airport at Nice?
DAVE: No.
MARTIN: Oh well, I’ll just explain the layout. They’ve got this very …
DAVE: Look, I mean yes. Yes. I do know it.
MARTIN: Are you sure? Because you really won’t understand this story if you don’t. I’ll just refresh your
memory. There’s a very odd …
(Fuselage door opens.)
ARTHUR: Hi, chaps.
DAVE (with frantic relief in his voice): Arthur! There you are!
ARTHUR: Hi, Dave. I said I’d pop in, didn’t I?
DAVE: Yes, you did! You said you’d pop in at seven forty-five; and now it’s gone eight!
ARTHUR: I said ‘about’ seven forty-five.
MARTIN: Well, it doesn’t matter – he’s here now. Come and join us, Arthur. I was, er, just telling Dave
about the landing into Nice.
ARTHUR: Ooh, what about the talking shop forfeit?
MARTIN: Oh, I’ve paid for that.
DAVE: Yeah, yeah. He bought me a drink. So now he can talk about flying … (he tries to suppress a
sigh) … as much as he likes.
MARTIN: So, there I was …
DAVE: Actually, I’ve-I’ve gotta go now.
MARTIN: Oh, really? I-I thought you wanted to see Arthur.
DAVE: No, no. I’ve gotta go.
MARTIN: Oh well. I-I’ll finish the story another time.
DAVE: No! Finish it now. Definitely. Arthur can fill me in later.
(Fuselage door closes.)
MARTIN: That’s odd. That’s exactly what George did half an hour ago. It’s like you all can’t stand to be in
each others’ company.
(He chuckles. Arthur laughs nervously.)
ARTHUR: That is odd.
MARTIN: I mean, I must say, I do like it being this quiet. It just seems, you know, strange given how busy
it was those first … few … days … (He draws in a breath.) Oh. I see. Arthur?
ARTHUR: Hello.
MARTIN: Where have you just come from, Arthur?
ARTHUR: I had dinner and then I went for a walk and then I came here.
MARTIN: Where did you have dinner?
ARTHUR: An Italian restaurant.
MARTIN: What, in Fitton?
ARTHUR: Yep.
MARTIN: That doesn’t sound much like you.
ARTHUR: No. I’m quite enigmatic, though.
MARTIN: And I’d have thought you’d have had enough of Italian food since we were in Pisa last week.
ARTHUR: No. That just … whetted my appetite.
MARTIN: Who did you have dinner with?
ARTHUR: Er, Douglas and you. (Quickly correcting himself) … wouldn’t know the other person!
MARTIN: What was his name?
ARTHUR: Mar…k…
MARTIN: Mark Manercatsirman?
ARTHUR: No – Mark … er … (he gasps excitedly as he thinks of a name) … Ramprakash!
MARTIN: Of course(!) And the walk afterwards: where did you, Douglas and … Mark Ramprakash go?
ARTHUR (his voice becoming increasingly plaintive): We went to see the … Tower … of … Air Traffic
Control.
MARTIN: The Leaning Tower of Air Traffic Control?
ARTHUR (frantically): How do people do it?! How do they lie? It’s impossible!
MARTIN: Where’s the new pub, Arthur?
ARTHUR (instantly): The mechanics’ loading bay.
MARTIN: Right!

(Hubbub of voices chatting. A door opens.)

ARTHUR: Er, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Arthur? Aren’t you supposed to be on Martin-sitting duty? … Ah.
ARTHUR: Sorry.
MARTIN: Hello, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Skipper! Welcome to the Windsock Arms!
MARTIN: Don’t “Skipper” me. So this is where everyone’s been.
DOUGLAS: Where everyone’s been busy preparing your surprise!
MARTIN (angrily): Oh please, Douglas. Don’t bother.
DOUGLAS: All right. But we just thought, as captain, you were entitled to your own private bar, while we
…
MARTIN (bitterly): … went off and set up another cooler gang that I’m not allowed in. Yes, yes, I get it.
Well, bad luck.
(Sound of a number being dialled on a mobile phone.)
DOUGLAS: No, Martin, don’t.
MARTIN: Hi, Carolyn?
DOUGLAS: No!
MARTIN: I think you ought to come over to the mechanics’ loading bay.
DOUGLAS: Don’t say why.
MARTIN: Because there’s an unlicensed bar in it, that’s why.
DOUGLAS: Oh, great.
(Martin hangs up.)
MARTIN: She’s coming straight over.
DOUGLAS: I thought she might. All right – everyone get out, but drain your glasses first.
GEORGE: What? Why?
DOUGLAS: Just do it.
GEORGE: Oh.
MARTIN (as glasses are drained and put down, and everyone else leaves): There-there’s no point in
that. All the bottles are still sitting on the bar; and anyway, I have to tell her everything.
DOUGLAS: Really, Martin? Everything? Including the four days you spent as a pillar of the Flap and
Throttle?
MARTIN: Yes, but I didn’t want to. A-a-and anyway, this isn’t about that pub; it’s about this pub – the one
you left me out of.
DOUGLAS: You wanted to be left out of it! You told me so! You wanted to go back to not knowing! I
was tryingto help.
MARTIN: What? … Oh, no. … Oh. Douglas, I’m sorry. I-I-I’m sorry! I didn’t realise! I – look, I-I, erm, I’ll
phone her back and …
DOUGLAS: Too late.
(Sound of footsteps on metal steps outside.)
DOUGLAS: Don’t worry. Tell her everything like you were going to, but get ready to follow my lead.
MARTIN: All right.
(Door opens.)
CAROLYN: What on earth is going …? Oh.
DOUGLAS: Evening, Carolyn. Welcome to the Windsock Arms!
CAROLYN: Oh, Douglas. This is too far, even for you. Providing unlicensed alcohol on an airfield to
airfield staff on duty? Martin, how long have you known about this?
MARTIN: I just discovered it now; just now; just immediately now.
CAROLYN: Who’s been coming here, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Ah, well … The thing is, I have a terrible memory for faces.
CAROLYN: I want a list of the names of everyone who’s been drinking here.
DOUGLAS: Also names. Faces and names – those are my weak spots.
CAROLYN: Douglas, I’m serious. We need to have a talk.
DOUGLAS: Always a pleasure; never a chore.
CAROLYN: … in which I may have to fire you.
DOUGLAS: Quite right too.
CAROLYN: I’m not joking.
DOUGLAS: Absolutely not! It’s terribly serious – and that’s certainly how you should react if I ever set up
an illegal bar in the airfield.
CAROLYN: You have!
DOUGLAS: Well, no, I haven’t. You see, Carolyn, I am your Mystery Perpetrator of Gross Professional
Misconduct. Hallo.
CAROLYN: What?
DOUGLAS: Arthur was telling me about all the fun you’ve been having with the Mystery Passenger
lessons, and I thought it was a shame for you and Martin to miss out, so I arranged this – and you both
did terribly well!
CAROLYN: Douglas, I am not an idiot. This place is full of booze.
DOUGLAS: But is it, though? Martin, pass me one of those bottles, would you? Absolutely any one at
all. Your free choice.
(Clinking of a bottle.)
MARTIN: Here you are.
DOUGLAS: Ah, the Talisker! Excellent choice, sir.
(Sound of liquid pouring into a glass.)
DOUGLAS: There we are. On the house. Tell me what you think.
CAROLYN (taking a drink): Apple juice.
DOUGLAS: It does have apple-y overtones, doesn’t it? Or, if you prefer, I can do you water, cold tea, or I
thinkthis one’s mouthwash.
CAROLYN: You went to all this trouble just to wind me up?
DOUGLAS: You and Martin. It was an irresistible two-for-the-price-of-one deal.
CAROLYN: You are an infantile time-wasting sorry excuse for a pilot, and I ought to fire you anyway just
to teach you a lesson.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Funny, though, wasn’t it?
CAROLYN: Martin.
MARTIN: Yes?
CAROLYN: Are you still there?
MARTIN: Yes.
CAROLYN: Then don’t be.
MARTIN: Right.
CAROLYN (as the door closes and the sound of Martin’s footsteps recedes outside): Right. Now,
Douglas, listen to me.
DOUGLAS: Yes, Carolyn?
CAROLYN: A double gin and tonic, please, with ice and lemon.
DOUGLAS: Coming right up.
CAROLYN (as Douglas prepares her drink): D’you think that went all right?
DOUGLAS: Very well, I thought. I’m impressed he took four days to tell you. I thought it would be
sooner.
CAROLYN: I’m rather insulted he believed I’d fall for that rotten apple juice trick.
DOUGLAS: All in a good cause. Now Martin can return to blissful ignorance; the boys can relax again;
and you can start coming back to the pub.
CAROLYN: Where’s the new one going to be?
DOUGLAS: We thought the fire crew break room. The Hose and Hydrant?
CAROLYN: Perfect. Cheers.
DOUGLAS: Cheers.
(They clink glasses.)

SEASON 2 – EPISODE 6: Limerick

(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS (over cabin address): Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We’re now about halfway
through our flight from Hong Kong to Limerick, and I just thought I’d let you know that I … am … bored.
Bored, bored, bored, bored … bored. We are, unbelievably, still flying over Russia, which continues to
be stupidly big. Reallyenormous. Far bigger than necessary. We’ve been in the air now for about a week,
and it doesn’t look like we’ll be landing until the last syllable of recorded time. So, if anyone on board
knows any card tricks, ghost stories, or would like to have some sex, please do make your way to the
flight deck. Thank you.
(Slight pause.)
(Bing-bong.)
MARTIN (over cabin address): Er, ladies and gentlemen, I do – I do profoundly apologise for my first
officer and his badly misjudged attempt at humour. I do hope you weren’t distressed by his outburst,
and-and let me just say in his defence that up here in the flight deck it is … unbelievably boring!
DOUGLAS: So boring.
MARTIN: So very very very very boring!
DOUGLAS and MARTIN (simultaneously): Bo-ored!

This week, Limerick!

MARTIN (yawning): Why does Tipperary always get the blame for it being a long way to? It’s an
even longer way to Limerick.
DOUGLAS: Only by about thirty miles.
MARTIN: Mmm. Don’t suppose they sing about it much there, then.
DOUGLAS: What? Where?
MARTIN (singing): ♪ It’s a long way to Tipperary ♪ … (speaking) in Limerick. Well, they probably have
their ownversion. (Singing) ♪ It’s a short way to Tipperary / I’m just popping up there now, actually / Can I
get you anything? ♪
DOUGLAS: They’re certainly both a hell of a long way from Hong Kong.
MARTIN: That’s true. And all just for this.
(He pats a box.)
MARTIN: You’d think they could pop it in the post, wouldn’t you?
DOUGLAS: Well, it’s time-sensitive, of course. And the chap was telling me it’s more valuable, ounce for
ounce, than gold.
MARTIN: Hmm.
DOUGLAS: Rhymes for ‘flight’.
MARTIN: Er, ‘bite’, ‘fight’, ‘night’, ‘right’ …
DOUGLAS: Ah yes. Here’s one:
(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS: Ladies and gentlemen, we’re just flying over Gloucestershire now. You may be able to make
out a town below, though it’s quite hard to identify through the cloud cover. Or, as they say in Limerick:
We hope you’re enjoying the flight.
On your left we’re just coming in sight
Of Swindon or Stroud
All covered in cloud,
And it’s much the same thing on the right.
MARTIN (as if inspired): Davina McCall.
DOUGLAS: Yes, fair enough. You can have that.
(Intercom on.)
ARTHUR (over intercom): Hi, chaps. N-nice one, Douglas. Um, but just to settle an argument, though …
CAROLYN (from further away in the cabin): It’s not an argument. It’s you being wrong.
ARTHUR: Just to settle a me being wrong, are we really over Swindon and Stroud?
DOUGLAS: No, Arthur – not for hours yet.
CAROLYN: Told you, clot.
DOUGLAS: Wishful thinking, I’m afraid; and I felt ‘Swindon’ and ‘Stroud’ might be easier to rhyme than
‘Krasnomaysky’ and ‘Vyshny Volochyok’.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. ‘Mizhny Molomek’. ‘Gizhny Gologek’. ‘Chizhny Jolojek’ … yes, I see what you
mean. ‘Vishny Volovek’.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Maybe we could leave you to go through the rest of the alphabet off the intercom?
ARTHUR: Okay. Ooh, before I go, though, er, what’s the time?
MARTIN: Where’s your watch?
ARTHUR: It’s broken. I was trying to find out the difference between ‘splash-proof’ and ‘waterproof’.
MARTIN: Well, Arthur, the time is just coming up to … nine sixteen … now.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Or, to be a little more precise, six thirty-three.
MARTIN: No it isn’t.
DOUGLAS: Yes it is.
MARTIN: No it … Damn. It’s done it again.
(He taps his watch.)
DOUGLAS: You see, Arthur, you and Martin have something in common.
ARTHUR: Brilliant!
DOUGLAS: It’s that both of your watches are broken.
MARTIN: No it isn’t. It’s just … bedding in.
CAROLYN: Arthur. Arthur, it’s an intercom, not a chat line. You’re supposed to be putting the dinner on.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. Sorry, Mum.
(Intercom off.)
MARTIN: Just ’cause you can’t bear to admit that I picked up a genuine Patek Philippe for almost
nothing.
DOUGLAS (pointedly): In Hong Kong.
MARTIN: Look, I’m not stupid. I realise most of the watches in shops like that are fakes, and that’s why I
went for this one. This … this was the one he didn’t want to show me.
DOUGLAS: Oh yes?
MARTIN: Yes. You see, at first he got out his standard tourist trap tray of Roolexes and Obegas and I
just said to him, “Look, I-I-I’m not a tourist. I’m an airline pilot.”
DOUGLAS: You should have told him you were a captain.
MARTIN: I did, actually.
DOUGLAS: Imagine my surprise.
MARTIN: No, but I was too clever for him. I spotted this one right at the back of the high shelf and he
said … (in a bad Chinese accent) … “Oh, I was hoping you would not see that.”
DOUGLAS: Did he?! Gosh! So, er, just clarify for me: why did he have it in his shop?
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: Why did he put something that he hoped he wouldn’t have to sell in his shop? Why not put it
– I don’t know – under his bed? Is it like a forfeit system he’s set up for himself?
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Evening, drivers. Oh, isn’t that a lovely sunset?
MARTIN and DOUGLAS (simultaneously): No it’s not.
CAROLYN: Oh, all right! Now, Douglas, give me a bing-bong.
DOUGLAS: Oh, but Carolyn, this is all so sudden.
CAROLYN: Oh, ho-ho. Funny pilot. Bing-bong, please.
(Bing-bong.)
CAROLYN (into cabin address): Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has now illuminated the seat-belt
sign, so please ensure your hand baggage and duty free are safely stowed, your tray tables are folded
away, and your seat is returned to the upright position. Or, as they say in Limerick:
The captain has turned on the signs,
So stow away bags of all kinds.
Then make sure your tray
Is folded away
And your seat back no longer reclines.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Do I take it you’re as bored back there as we are up here?
CAROLYN: Well, honestly – fourteen hours with a broken DVD player, no passengers to tease, and the
ever-present fear that I’ll weaken and let Arthur play Charades.
MARTIN (frantically): No!!
DOUGLAS (urgently): You must be strong! That might well make the boredom levels actually fatal.
CAROLYN: I know. Well, haven’t you two got a game going, or something?
MARTIN: We just started one, actually. Agatha Christie.
DOUGLAS: Yes, true. Russell Crowe.
MARTIN: Good one.
CAROLYN: Well, what is it?
MARTIN: It’s People Who Aren’t Evil But Have Evil-Sounding Names. Like Russell Crowe.
CAROLYN: What’s wrong with Russell Crowe?
DOUGLAS (in an evil voice): Russell Crowe.
MARTIN (in an evil voice): Russell Crowe.
CAROLYN: No, no, no, no, no. (In a deep, movie trailer voice) Russell Crowe, here to save the day!
DOUGLAS (in an evil voice): Mark me well … (He cackles evilly.) Soon you will rue the day you dared to
crossRrrrussell Crowe.
CAROLYN: Oh, all right, then, yes.
MARTIN: So far Douglas has got him, and I’ve got Agatha Christie and … (in an evil voice) … Davina
McCall.
CAROLYN: Because obviously it has to be a competition.
DOUGLAS: Of course. It’s who can get most in half an hour, ending at seven – as measured by Martin’s
watch, which adds a pleasingly random element.
MARTIN: No it doesn’t!
CAROLYN: Evelyn Waugh.
DOUGLAS: Not bad.
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Coffee, chaps. (He puts the cups down.) Wow, brilliant sunset.
MARTIN: No it isn’t.
DOUGLAS (simultaneously): No it’s not.
ARTHUR: … Oh. Okay. Rubbish sunset.
MARTIN: Arthur? ‘M’.
ARTHUR: What? Ooh! Er, Mountain. Moccasin. Magma.
CAROLYN: What’s this now?
DOUGLAS: Arthur’s trying to learn the phonetic alphabet. He favours the spot-check method of revision.
None of the above, Arthur, no.
ARTHUR: Er, Molecule. Mongoose. Mosquito!
MARTIN: Shorter.
ARTHUR: Mosque.
CAROLYN: It’s a name.
ARTHUR: Macnamara. Michinson. Moon!
DOUGLAS: A first name.
ARTHUR: Er, Martin, er, Maggie, Milly, Molly, Mandy, Matthew, Michael …
CAROLYN: Nearly! Shorter.
ARTHUR: Mickey! Mick! Mi! Muh!
MARTIN: No, Arthur, the phonetic alphabet version of the letter ‘M’ is not ‘Muh’. It’s ‘Mike’!
ARTHUR: Oh! I was close, then.
MARTIN: In comparison to Molecule or Milly-Molly-Mandy, yes.
ARTHUR: Brilliant. Anyway … (picking up the cups again) … like I say, coffee.
(He puts them down again.)
CAROLYN: Careful! Don’t put it on that!
ARTHUR: Sorry, sorry. Why – what’s that?
CAROLYN: That is the cargo – the whole reason we’re here.
ARTHUR: Wow – that box? That’s all? What’s in it?
MARTIN: It’s …
DOUGLAS: Guess.
ARTHUR: Ooh, great!
CAROLYN: This could take a while.
DOUGLAS: If there’s one thing we’ve got, it’s a while. Go on, Arthur – twenty questions.
ARTHUR: Yes, brilliant! Twenty Questions! Or … Charades.
CAROLYN, MARTIN and DOUGLAS (simultaneously): No!
ARTHUR (plaintively): But I’ve got a really good one! Oh, all right. Um, is it … a diamond?
MARTIN: No. Nineteen.
ARTHUR: Is it … a ruby?
MARTIN: No. Eighteen.
DOUGLAS: You might want to start with more general questions, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Okay. Um, animal, vegetable or mineral?
MARTIN: Animal. Seventeen.
ARTHUR: Right. Is it bigger than a sheep?
CAROLYN: Look at the size of the box.
ARTHUR: Oh yeah! Is it bigger than the box?
DOUGLAS: Is it bigger than the box it’s in? No, it’s not! Fifteen.
ARTHUR: Is it alive?
DOUGLAS: Ah! Interesting. Debateable. Fourteen.
MARTIN: Really? Debateable?
DOUGLAS: Wouldn’t you say?
MARTIN: Oh, yeah, I-I suppose so, yes.
ARTHUR: Is it valuable?
CAROLYN: No! Of course not(!) A client just chartered a plane and two pilots to fly a packet of crisps
halfway round the world(!) Arthur … you remember when I told you to put the dinner on?
ARTHUR: Yeah.
CAROLYN: Did you, in fact, do that?
ARTHUR: … No. No, now I think about it, I got mixed up and made coffee.
CAROLYN: Then perhaps you could have another crack at it now.
ARTHUR: Right-o! What are we having?
CAROLYN: Admiral’s pie.
ARTHUR: Okay. Is that the same as a Fisherman’s pie?
CAROLYN: No, it’s not. The admiral and the fisherman favour entirely different pies.
ARTHUR: Right-o. How long does it get in the micro?
CAROLYN: Three minutes, one minute, three minutes.
ARTHUR: Okay!
(Flight deck door closes.)
DOUGLAS: I don’t know when I’ve looked forward to a meal more.
CAROLYN: Oh, be quiet.
(Pause.)
CAROLYN: Is it me, or is the sun not getting any lower?
DOUGLAS: No, it’s not just you.
MARTIN: Because we’re flying west into a sunset near the Arctic Circle.
DOUGLAS: Every time it just dips behind the horizon, ATC make us climb a thousand feet and up it
pops again, like God’s own fiery yo-yo.
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Sorry. Mum, did you say one minute, three minute, one minute?
CAROLYN: Oh, for goodness’ sake! No! Of course not! What cooks for one minute and stands for three?
It’s three, one, three.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. Okay, actually that’s easy to remember, because I’ll just think of 433 Squadron, only
remember to swap the first two numbers and take three off the middle one!
CAROLYN: Arthur, are you insane? That’s the stupidest way to remember anything I’ve ever heard!
MARTIN: Also, it’s not 433 Squadron, it’s 633 Squadron.
ARTHUR: Oh, yeah! Thanks, Skipper. So first, I’ve got to add two to the squadron I think it is to get
the realsquadron and then swap …
CAROLYN: No! Don’t do any of that. Just remember it. Just use your brain and remember the three
numbers.
ARTHUR: Yes! Sorry. Three … three …
CAROLYN: No! Oh, come with me.
(Flight deck door closes.)
MARTIN: So – how’s Helena?
DOUGLAS: What do you mean? What are you getting at?
MARTIN: I’m … asking after the health of your wife.
DOUGLAS: Oh yes? As preparation for a crack about her thinking … what she thinks?
MARTIN: No – as a way of finding out how she is.
DOUGLAS: She’s fine.
MARTIN: Good. Why are you suddenly so …?
DOUGLAS: I’m not suddenly anything. Anyway, how’s your …?
MARTIN: My what?
DOUGLAS: I don’t know. There must be someone by now, no?
MARTIN: No. Still no.
DOUGLAS: Oh, Martin! You’re a young single airline captain. How difficult can it be?
MARTIN: Really really difficult.
DOUGLAS: Well, what about cabin crew?
MARTIN: Mmm, well, for two very different reasons, I’m afraid neither Arthur nor Carolyn quite float my
boat.
DOUGLAS: Not our cabin crew – everybody else’s. All those gorgeous stewardesses down route.
MARTIN: Actually, I think the whole “hosties are easy” thing is a bit of a sexist male fantasy.
DOUGLAS: No it’s not.
MARTIN: Oh, right. You pull stewardesses all the time, then, do you?
DOUGLAS: Certainly not. I’m a happily married man.
MARTIN: Yes, right, but you have done.
DOUGLAS: More than you can possibly imagine.
MARTIN: Well that’s not true for a start. I can imagine a thousand stewardesses.
DOUGLAS: And your point is …?
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Er, chaps, two quick things …
DOUGLAS: ‘J’.
ARTHUR: What? Ooh, er, Justin, Jeffrey, Jilly, Jenny, Georgina.
MARTIN: It’s one half of a famous pair of lovers?
ARTHUR: June!
DOUGLAS: If you can imagine such a thing, a pair of lovers even more famous than Terry and June.
MARTIN: Romeo and …
ARTHUR: Jomeo. Julio. Juliet!
MARTIN and DOUGLAS: Yes!
ARTHUR: Yes! I got that quite quickly, didn’t I?
DOUGLAS: Quite quickly.
ARTHUR: Yeah. Er, now, yeah, two things: er, firstly, Douglas, what was that place again?
DOUGLAS: What place?
ARTHUR: The one we were over? The one you said I couldn’t rhyme?
DOUGLAS: Oh, er, Vyshny Volochyok.
ARTHUR: Yeah. Well, I thought, what if you had a musical instrument, right, and you wanted to make
sure there weren’t any sea creatures on it …
DOUGLAS: Yes?
ARTHUR: … you’d do a fish-free oboe check.
DOUGLAS: … Yes. Not bad. Not good, though.
ARTHUR: Is it human?
MARTIN: What?
ARTHUR: The thing in the box. Is it human, like a part of the body?
MARTIN: Oh. No. Twelve.
ARTHUR: Right. So it’s animal, not human, valuable, smaller than the box it’s in, and may or may not be
alive.
DOUGLAS: Like Schrödinger’s cat.
ARTHUR: Is it a … Schrödinger’s cat?
MARTIN: No. Eleven.
ARTHUR: Is it an animal?
MARTIN: No. Ten.
ARTHUR: A plant?
MARTIN: No. Nine.
ARTHUR: But it might be alive.
MARTIN: Yes. Eight.
ARTHUR: Is it magic?
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Arthur. Why is there a half-cooked Admiral’s pie congealing in the microwave?
ARTHUR: Oh! I forgot about it. It was just having its little rest in the middle, because otherwise it goes all
bubbly at the edges and you have to …
CAROLYN: Yes, thank you, Heston Blumenthal. Just sort it out.
ARTHUR: Right-o.
(Flight deck door closes.)
DOUGLAS: Heston Blumenthal.
CAROLYN: Yes. You know, the chef.
DOUGLAS: Yes, I know. I meant … (evil voice) … Heston Blumenthal.
MARTIN: Oh! Yes, of course. Damn!
CAROLYN: But that was mine!
DOUGLAS: Finders, keepers.
CAROLYN: Oh, all right. Ah! Calista Flockhart.
MARTIN: Yes! Very good.
DOUGLAS: No, no, I don’t think so.
CAROLYN: What do you mean? (In an evil voice) Tremble, puny mortals, for I am she who is known as
Calista Flockhart!
DOUGLAS: Well, you can do any name in the voice, but there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s, er, well –
‘Calista’ is from the Latin for ‘beautiful’; and ‘Flockhart’ – what could be nicer than a flock of hearts?
CAROLYN: ‘Calista’, suggesting calluses and blisters; ‘Flock’, suggesting ‘flog’, ‘pluck’ and ‘pick’; ‘Calista
Flockhart’, the callused, blistered one who comes to flog and pluck your heart.
DOUGLAS: Nonsense.
MARTIN: Just because she reminds you of one of your old girlfriends.
DOUGLAS: Well, not so much reminds me of.
MARTIN: I don’t believe it!
DOUGLAS: Speaking of which, Martin, have you thought about internet dating?
MARTIN: Douglas!
DOUGLAS: What? There’s no stigma to it these days.
MARTIN: Douglas! Carolyn’s here!
DOUGLAS: Oh, we’re all friends here! You should try it.
MARTIN: … Well, I had a look at a site once, but you have to go on and on about your hobbies and
outside interests and … you know …
DOUGLAS: Yes. Not your strong suit.
MARTIN: Anyway, I don’t want all the weight of expectation. I just want to find a nice, natural, low-stakes
way to meet people.
CAROLYN: I find walking the dog works rather well.
(Startled silence.)
CAROLYN: Oh, hello. I’ve finally found the flight deck mute button, have I? Any particular reason it
should be so surprising that I might be interested in meeting someone too?
MARTIN and DOUGLAS (more or less simultaneously): No! No, of course not!
CAROLYN: Well, then. As I say, I can wholly recommend having a dog around. Anyone with a dog is
allowed to talk to anyone else with a dog. It’s like a-a secret loophole for allowing the English to talk to
strangers. (Her voice becomes a little sad.) What I don’t so much recommend is having your twenty-nine
year old son living at home with you. It’s a biggish house, of course, and he has his own part of it, but
even so, a house containing Arthur is very difficult to mistake for an empty house.
(She recovers and becomes more stern.)
CAROLYN: None of this is any business of yours, miserable underlings!
DOUGLAS: No. It was wrong of us to ask(!)
CAROLYN: Yes! Well! Things to do!
(Flight deck door closes.)
MARTIN: Well!
DOUGLAS: Well!
(Flight deck door opens.)
MARTIN: Arthur – ‘F’!
ARTHUR: Ooh! Fox!
DOUGLAS: Nearly.
ARTHUR: Er … Foxes!
MARTIN: ‘Fox’ something. Fox what?
ARTHUR: Foxwhat. Fox Hat. Fox Head. Fox Clock. Fox Face! Fox Box!
MARTIN: No! Not ‘Fox Box’! It’s a type of dance.
ARTHUR: Tango!
MARTIN: No! The phonetic alphabet for ‘F’ is not ‘Tango’!
DOUGLAS: Foxtrot.
ARTHUR: Ohhhh! I nearly said that. I got the ‘fox’ bit.
MARTIN: Well done(!)
ARTHUR: Anyway, I just popped in to ask: is it man made?
MARTIN: What?
ARTHUR: The thing in the box – is it made by a man?
MARTIN: Oh, no.
ARTHUR: Is it made by an animal?
MARTIN: You see, that’s a really stupid question that you just happen to have got lucky with. Yes.
ARTHUR: Brilliant! How many have I got left?
MARTIN: Dunno. About ten?
ARTHUR: Okay … Is it made by bees?
MARTIN: No. Nine.
ARTHUR: Worms?
MARTIN: No. Eight.
ARTHUR: Dogs?
MARTIN: No. Seven.
ARTHUR: Tigers?
MARTIN: No. Six. Are you sure this is the line of questioning you want to pursue?
ARTHUR: Yes. Bears?
MARTIN: No. Five.
ARTHUR: Horses.
MARTIN: No …
DOUGLAS: Er, Martin?
MARTIN: … Oh! Yes! It is made by horses.
ARTHUR: Brilliant! Now, then. What do horses make?
CAROLYN (calling from the galley): Arthur! Pie!
ARTHUR: Yeah, sorry. ’Scuse me, gents.
(Flight deck door closes.)
MARTIN: Douglas, look! At last! The sun’s almost gone again!
DOUGLAS: Oh, yes, there it goes. Come on, you big red sod – set, damn you!
MARTIN: There it goes. Come on, come on!
DOUGLAS: Tell you what: descending fifty feet.
(GERTI’s engines whine briefly.)
DOUGLAS: And … gone.
MARTIN: That’s better. Oh, isn’t it lovely and dark?
DOUGLAS: Mmm. The sun has taken his hat off. Hip hip hip hooray.
MARTIN: He’s taken off his hat at last and gone a-bloody-way. Shall I put the lights on?
DOUGLAS: No! Let’s keep the flight deck dark for a while, like a fighter plane.
MARTIN: Yeah!
DOUGLAS: You know, for what it’s worth, I think you should give one of those dating sites a go. You can
always make up a hobby.
MARTIN: Yeah, but even if I did meet someone, where would I take them? They’d expect an airline
captain to be able to wine and dine them, and I’m always broke because … well, you know why.
DOUGLAS: You don’t have to tell them you’re an airline captain. … Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I
was thinking. Does Carolyn really not pay you anything?
MARTIN: No, nothing.
DOUGLAS: So, how do you get by?
MARTIN: I have another job that I fit in around the trips.
DOUGLAS: Yes?
(Martin sighs.)
MARTIN: I … am … a man.
DOUGLAS: Yes, all right, Martin. You’re not in an Arthur Miller play.
MARTIN: Let me finish! I am a man … with a van.
DOUGLAS: Ah.
MARTIN: People call me up and I go round in my van and move their stuff for them.
DOUGLAS: I see. Where did you get a van?
MARTIN: When my dad died, he left me his van.
DOUGLAS: That’s nice … isn’t it?
MARTIN: Well, he didn’t leave me any money. I mean, I didn’t want his money but he didn’t leave
me any. Simon and Caitlin got five grand each, but I didn’t. Suppose because he thought I’d spend it on
trying to become a pilot – waste it on trying to become a pilot, because I had spent thousands by then,
so … instead he left me his van, and his tool kit, and his sodding multimeter. I mean, he didn’t leave a
note in the glove compartment saying … (in his dad’s London accent) … “For God’s sake, son, give it up
and become an electrician” … (normal voice) … but he might as well have done; and then four months
after he died I got my first job a pilot. I mean, it was a rubbish job, but four months … and then I
got this job and … I was a captain, but not making money, and I went back to the van. That’s why I don’t
have any hobbies. My job is humping boxes into my dad’s old van – that’s what I’m paid to
do. This – this is my hobby. And it’s-it’s not your fault, but it doesn’t help that I sit next to you with your
perfect life and your happy marriage and your salary and the … well, frankly, in any figures at all, it
doesn’t help.
DOUGLAS: Not a perfect life, perhaps. After all, I’m sitting next to you.
MARTIN: Oh, thank you(!) Thank you for those few kind words of sympathy(!)
DOUGLAS: I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, I’m not at Air England any more. I’m here. And, you
knowsome things about my life. You know about Helena thinking I’m the captain.
MARTIN: Yes. Why did you tell her that?
DOUGLAS: I didn’t tell her. She just assumed I was. People tend to do that. Don’t know if you’ve
noticed.
MARTIN: Yes, I have!
DOUGLAS: And I just failed to correct her.
MARTIN: Well, for what it’s worth, I really think you ought to tell her. I mean, she loves you. She’s not
gonna care, you know, whether you’re a captain or not.
DOUGLAS: Yes. I have told her now, actually.
MARTIN: Oh, right!
DOUGLAS: Yes – quite soon after you came over that day.
MARTIN: Right. And how did she take it?
DOUGLAS: Really well – very well. You were quite right. She didn’t mind at all. Not at all. She was glad I
told her.
MARTIN: Right! Great! Oh, that’s wonderful! God – I thought from the way you were saying it, she’d hit
the roof.
DOUGLAS: No.
MARTIN: Good!
DOUGLAS: Very calm.
MARTIN: And wasn’t I right? Don’t you feel it’s a huge weight off your back?
DOUGLAS: Yes and no.
MARTIN: And no?
DOUGLAS: What she actually said was, she was pleased I’d told her my secret because it made it
easier for her to tell me hers.
MARTIN: Oh.
DOUGLAS: Hers was the more conventional sort. If I had to criticise, I must say it lacked the verge and
originality of mine. I mean, “Darling, I’ve been lying to you about the precise rank I hold in a small charter
airline” – I flatter myself that’s not a confession often made. “Darling, I’ve been having an affair with my
Tai Chi teacher” – bit more run of the mill.
MARTIN: Oh.
DOUGLAS: I mean, fair enough: points for Tai Chi teacher rather than tennis coach or dancing
instructor, but basically familiar territory.
MARTIN: Oh.
DOUGLAS: Mmm.
MARTIN: I’m so sorry.
DOUGLAS: Thank you.
MARTIN: Oh God, if only I hadn’t come round that night.
DOUGLAS: Oh, no, don’t be silly. You didn’t tell her, after all. No, I-I don’t blame you. I blame the
Chinese.
MARTIN: What for?
DOUGLAS: Tai Chi.
MARTIN: I think that was the Japanese.
DOUGLAS: I bet you a fiver it was the Chinese.
MARTIN: You’re on!
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Gentlemen. I … Why are you lurking in the dark? Do you not have fifty p for the meter?
(Click of switches. Douglas cries out in pain.)
CAROLYN: That’s better.
DOUGLAS: Yes! You’ve just temporarily blinded both your pilots! But, hey, what harm could that do?(!)
CAROLYN: Oh, don’t fuss. We bring many gifts to cheer you, such as – Arthur? Dinner!
ARTHUR: Here we go, chaps.
(Sound of him putting plates down.)
DOUGLAS: Good God.
MARTIN: Is this the famous Admiral’s pie?
ARTHUR: Yep!
DOUGLAS: The admiral’s not a fussy eater, is he?
CAROLYN: Well, you have to bear in mind that idiot-features here has been reheating it and forgetting
about it by turns for the last half hour.
DOUGLAS: Hmm. I think I’ll stick to the sandwiches we picked up at the airport – unendorsed by senior
naval personnel though they are.
MARTIN: Yeah, me too.
ARTHUR: All the more pie for me!
CAROLYN: So be it; but gentlemen, we bring food for the soul, not just the body. I now present Mr.
Arthur Shappey with the story of a famous Scottish actor who went for a solitary hike in Russia, got
caught in the rain, and regretted not having packed with more care. Or, as they say in Limerick …
ARTHUR: Sean Connery, in Vyshny Volochyok,
In the rain, on a drizzly solo trek
Said … (attempting a Sean Connery impersonation) “Forgetting my shweater
Has made me much wetter.
I shertainly do miss my polo neck.”
MARTIN: Well, Arthur, that was … erm … that was … that was just … I mean, wasn’t it, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Certainly was – and more! All your own work?
ARTHUR: Well, Mum helped a bit with the, er, writing of it.
(He starts eating some pie.)
ARTHUR (with his mouth full): Ooh, the thing in the box: was it made by a lot of horses or just one?
MARTIN: Just one. Three.
ARTHUR: One three?
MARTIN: No, one horse; three questions left.
ARTHUR: Was it a famous horse?
MARTIN: I suppose so, yes. Two.
ARTHUR: Is he famous for the things he makes?
MARTIN: Well … sort of, but not in the way you’re thinking. He’s not a famous horse potter. One. Last
question.
ARTHUR: Right.
CAROLYN: He’s famous for making other horses.
ARTHUR: Wow!
CAROLYN: And now, of course, you’re thinking of a horse Frankenstein, aren’t you?
ARTHUR: Yeah!
CAROLYN: That’s my boy. No – he makes horses in the usual way horses make other horses.
ARTHUR: Ohh!
CAROLYN: The penny drops.
ARTHUR: Is it … The thing in the box is … Eurgh!
DOUGLAS: That’s right.
ARTHUR: Oh! Oh, no! Oh, that’s put me right off my pie!
DOUGLAS: Still, it’s probably good for our souls. I mean, if we’re ever in danger of becoming dazzled by
the sheer glamour of this job, we can always reflect that the four of us once spent three days travelling
halfway round the world and back as couriers of a bottle of horse sp…
CAROLYN (interrupting): Thank you, Douglas. That will more than do.
ARTHUR: But …
CAROLYN: Arthur. ‘B’.
ARTHUR: Oh! Big! Bag, Bog, Bob, Bush, Ball, Bag, Bug, Bag, Bag, Bag …
CAROLYN: It is not ‘Bag’! Two syllables.
ARTHUR: Balloon! Baboon! Bassoon! Bubble, Babble, Bag, Bag-bag! Baghdad!
MARTIN: No! It’s something you say at the end of a play.
ARTHUR: Bye-bye!
CAROLYN: No! What do you say to the actors?
ARTHUR: Boo!
DOUGLAS: No! Like “Encore”.
ARTHUR: Boncore!
MARTIN (exasperated): ‘Bravo’!
ARTHUR: Oh! Yes, I knew that.
DOUGLAS: You really, really didn’t.
ARTHUR: Another!
CAROLYN: No!
ARTHUR: Go on, please, just one more. One last one.
DOUGLAS: All right. Erm, ‘G’.
ARTHUR: Golf!
(Stunned silence.)
DOUGLAS: Yes, that’s right.
ARTHUR: Well, obviously I know some of them.
CAROLYN: What’s the time?
MARTIN: It is precisely one minute to seven.
DOUGLAS: Or, in fact … Oh. No, it is one minute to seven.
MARTIN: Of course it is, because this – loath though you are to admit it – is a genuine Patek Philippe.
CAROLYN: So, who won the Evil Name game?
DOUGLAS: Oh, it’s two-all, I think, if I let you have Calista Flockhart.
MARTIN: Oh, damn, there must be another one. Er, er, er – how much time have I got?
DOUGLAS: What does your watch say?
MARTIN: I just told you, i… Oh! Patek Philippe! That’s an evil name!
CAROLYN: Is it?
DOUGLAS (in an evil voice): Patek Philippe. (Normal voice) Well, he’s certainly not a goodie. Not sure
he’s the super-villain, though – maybe his henchman.
MARTIN: Rolex.
DOUGLAS: That’s the villain’s pet robot.
MARTIN: Omega!
CAROLYN: That’s his doomsday device.
MARTIN: Tag Heuer!
DOUGLAS: And there he is! Martin wins!
MARTIN: Yes! I win!
(His watch begins to play a tinny electronic version of the theme to The Simpsons.)
CAROLYN: What on earth is that?
DOUGLAS: That – I believe – is the sound seven o’clock makes … on a genuine Patek Philippe(!)
ARTHUR: So … are we nearly there now?
DOUGLAS: No. Five hours still to go.
CAROLYN: What are we going to do now?
ARTHUR: I’ve got an idea – and it’s a really good one.
CAROLYN (reluctantly): Oh, all right.
ARTHUR: Brilliant! Here goes!
(Slight pause as Arthur does his first mime.)
MARTIN: It’s a film.
(Slight pause for the next bit of the mime.)
DOUGLAS: One word.
(Slight pause for the next mime.)
DOUGLAS, MARTIN and CAROLYN (simultaneously): Airplane.
ARTHUR (high-pitched in indignation): How did you know?!

CABIN PRESSURE AT CHRISTMAS: Molokai

DOUGLAS Air con?
MARTIN: Off.
DOUGLAS: Anti-collision light?
MARTIN: On.
DOUGLAS: Fuel pump switches?
MARTIN: On.
DOUGLAS: Dasher?
MARTIN: On.
DOUGLAS: Dancer?
MARTIN: On.
DOUGLAS: Prancer and Vixen?
MARTIN: On. Comet?
DOUGLAS: On.
MARTIN: Cupid!
DOUGLAS: On.
MARTIN: Donner and Blitzen?
DOUGLAS: To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall.
MARTIN Dash away …
DOUGLAS and MARTIN: … dash away, dash away, all!

This Christmas, Molokai!

(Radio on.)
OCEANIC ATC (over radio): Thank you, Golf Tango India. Continue as cleared.
DOUGLAS: Golf Tango India, continue as cleared. Thank you, Oceanic, and Merry Christmas.
OCEANIC ATC: I’m a Shinto Buddhist.
DOUGLAS: And may you be a merry one.
(Radio off. Sound of an exuberant cheer from the cabin.)
DOUGLAS: Ah, Arthur’s awoken. Brace yourself.
MARTIN: What for?
DOUGLAS: Oh, is this the first time you’ve flown with Arthur on Christmas morning?
(Flight deck door bursts open.)
ARTHUR (singing): ♪ Ge-e-et dressed you merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay,
For it is Christmas Christmas Christmas Christmas Christmas Day! ♪
DOUGLAS: Yes …
ARTHUR: ♪ It’s Christmas Christmas Christmas Christmas Christmas Christmas Day … ♪
MARTIN: Arthur …
ARTHUR: ♪ It is Chri-i-i-i-i-istmas Day, Christ-i-mas Day,
It is Chri-hi-hi-hi-hi-hi-histmas Day! ♪
DOUGLAS: Are you finished?
ARTHUR: Not necessarily. I know other verses!
MARTIN: No you don’t! You don’t even know that one.
ARTHUR: With respect, Skip, I absolutely do know that one. It goes: ♪ Get dressed you merry
gentlemen … ♪
MARTIN: No! No it doesn’t. It’s not “Get dressed,” it’s “God rest.” “God rest you, merry gentlemen.”
ARTHUR (chuckling in disbelief): No it’s not.
MARTIN: Yes it is! Why would you be telling them, “Get dressed”?
ARTHUR: Because it’s Christmas!
MARTIN: What, so they’re naked?
ARTHUR: No, they’re in bed! It’s saying, “Come on, merry gentlemen, it’s Christmas! Up and at ’em; get
dressed; let’s do our stockings!”
MARTIN: No, it’s “God rest.”
ARTHUR: Well, that makes no sense. “God rest, you merry gentlemen”? What’s a ‘God rest’?
DOUGLAS: Somewhere to put your god?
MARTIN: It’s not “God rest, you merry gentlemen”; it’s “God rest you, merry gentlemen.”
ARTHUR: Well, that makes no sense either!
(Martin sighs.)
DOUGLAS: Actually, it’s neither. It’s “God rest you merry, gentlemen,” as in, “Happy Christmas,
gentlemen. I hope God gives you a restful and merry one, and doesn’t accidentally shut you in a flying
cupboard with a pair of idiots.”
ARTHUR: Oh, cheer up, Douglas. We’ll be back in Tokyo in no time, and then we’ve got the rest of
Christmas off! What are you gonna do?
DOUGLAS: Go back to the hotel, bit of sleep, ring my daughter, and then go out and ingest a quite
heroic quantity of festive sushi.
ARTHUR: How about you, Skip?
MARTIN: Oh, I dunno. I’ll probably sit by the pool, read a book.
ARTHUR: Oh, Skip! That’s not very Christmassy.
MARTIN: Well, I’m not that big on Christmas.
ARTHUR: Well, if you change your mind, you’re both welcome to join Mum and me. We’ve found this
brilliant Japanese restaurant called The Auspicious Pig and Whistle Old England-Style Happy Pub; and
we’re having turkey and Christmas pudding and presents and carols and stockings and silly hats and
mulled wine.
DOUGLAS: All quite low-key, then, is it?
(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS: Ooh! (Singing) ♪ Bing-bong merrily on high / In heaven the phone is ringing. ♪
(Sat comm on.)
MARTIN: Hello? Captain Crieff.
CAROLYN (over sat comm): Martin! Tokyo calling. Merry Christmas! Peace on earth and goodwill to all
men – even pilots. How was Hong Kong?
MARTIN: Are you all right, Carolyn?
CAROLYN: Perfectly, thank you – but more importantly, are you all right? You sleep well? Nice and well-
rested, are you?
DOUGLAS: Martin, don’t.
MARTIN: Yes, thanks. I’ve …
DOUGLAS: It’s a trap!
CAROLYN: Good! Now, then, my festive flyers: you remember that friendly little chat we had about
working at Christmas?
DOUGLAS: No, I don’t. I remember an enormous argument when you announced that you’d booked us
to fly Japanese golfers back and forth all through Christmas week without asking us.
CAROLYN: Well, I’m sorry, but Christmas wasn’t on the wall chart.
DOUGLAS: Christmas was on the wall chart. It was written on the wall chart by the makers of the wall
chart. And I remember us finally very graciously agreeing to do it on the strict understanding that our last
Hong Kong run would be on Christmas morning, and we’d be back in Tokyo with the rest of the day to
ourselves by midday precisely.
CAROLYN: Yyyes – well, I’d like to propose a very minor tweak to that arrangement, by which you can
still get back into Tokyo at noon.
MARTIN: Yes?
CAROLYN: … and there you pick up me and a Russian yacht broker and fly us on to Hawaii.
MARTIN: Hawaii?!
CAROLYN: Mmm! The island of Molokai, to be precise, which Mr. Alyakhin either owns a beach resort
on, or quite possibly just owns. It’s not entirely clear.
DOUGLAS: So you want us to spend another seven hours of Christmas Day in an aeroplane.
CAROLYN: Look – this is in all our best interests. Mr. Alyakhin is a huge charter firm user, and if we can
get on his list, then our ridiculous business – the survival of which is already as astonishing as when you
go into a motorway service station and see they’ve still got a Wimpy – might just continue into the New
Year.
ARTHUR: But-but Mum, what about our Christmas at the Auspicious Pig and Whistle, with turkey and
pudding and stockings and a tree and mulled wine?
CAROLYN: Yes! Don’t worry! We’ll still do all that, but in sunny Hawaii! It’ll be exactly the same but with
lesssake and more hula.
ARTHUR (unhappily): Okay.
CAROLYN: Oh, and Arthur?! This is a very important client, so we’ll be giving him our very best
customer service, okay?
ARTHUR: Absolutely, Mum. I’ll pull out all the stops.
CAROLYN: Er, no, no, no – our very best customer service.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. I’ll hide in the galley and let you do everything.
CAROLYN: Good boy!
(Clicking of switches.)
DOUGLAS (grumpily): Post-ruddy-take-off checks grudgingly completed, Captain, by a first officer who
should – by all natural laws – be just tucking into his seventh hosomaki.
MARTIN: Thank you, Douglas. I’m sure they’ll have sushi somewhere on Molokai.
DOUGLAS: I’m sure they won’t. They’ll have chicken Santa burgers … and pretzels.
ARTHUR: So – so twelve plus seven is nineteen, and nineteen o’clock is … don’t tell me. One o’clock is
thirteen, two o’clock is fourteen, three o’clock is fifteen …
MARTIN: Seven o’clock, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Oh! Okay, so we-we still get Christmas evening.
DOUGLAS: Plus the five hour time difference.
ARTHUR: Eight, nine, ten, eleven … twelve. Oh.
MARTIN: Sorry.
ARTHUR (trying to be brave but failing): No, I-I don’t really mind. We’ll just have our Christmas on
Boxing Day. That’s … that’ll be almost as good, pretty much; nearly as good, in some ways. Anyway, I-
I’m not all that bothered about Christmas. I think it’s been over-commercialised.
MARTIN: Do you?!
ARTHUR: Yes, I do!
DOUGLAS: That’s an interesting opinion.
ARTHUR: It’s one I’ve long held.
DOUGLAS: What does “over-commercialised” mean?
ARTHUR: It means it’s too much, um … it’s over- … it used to be under- … now it’s … I don’t
know! Terry on the fire crew said it and it sounded really grown-up. I love Christmas. It’s my equal
favourite time of year with my birthday, summer, Easter, Mum’s birthday and Lent.
DOUGLAS: Oh, cheer up. It’ll be round again before you know it.
ARTHUR: Yeah. Yeah, I know. Doesn’t really matter. (Tearfully) ’Scuse me, chaps. I’m just gonna sit in
the galley for a bit.
(He sniffs.)
ARTHUR (singing in an sad voice as he leaves the flight deck): ♪ You’d better not pout, you’d better not
cry … ♪

MARTIN: Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Mmm?
MARTIN: I was just thinking about poor old Arthur missing out on his big Christmas – you know, his
turkey, pudding, and presents and silly hats and so on.
DOUGLAS (uninterestedly): Mmm?
MARTIN: Yes, well, I-I-I was just thinking, if-if we wanted, we could probably, sort of, do some of those
things here, couldn’t we, in the flight deck?
DOUGLAS: I thought you said you were glad to be missing Christmas.
MARTIN: Oh, I am! No, completely. But, um, but for Arthur’s sake.
DOUGLAS: And how do you propose to cook a turkey dinner at thirty-five thousand feet?
MARTIN: Dunno, but we’d think of something. And the others seem quite do-able.
DOUGLAS: Of that list, as far as I can see, all we’ve got are hats.
MARTIN (chuckling): Yeah. And they’re not very silly ones.
DOUGLAS: Yours is quite silly.
MARTIN: Look, I keep telling you, I didn’t ask for extra. It’s just the standard amount of gold braid they
put on a captain’s hat these days.
DOUGLAS: In the Democratic Republic of Congo, maybe.
MARTIN: Well, anyway, what do you think? Fancy a, er, flight deck Christmas?
DOUGLAS: I think it’s an utterly stupid idea for two reasons, one of which is obvious, and the other of
which is that Arthur is twenty-nine years old.
MARTIN: Pass the time, though.
DOUGLAS (exasperated): Oh, go on, then.
(Intercom on.)
MARTIN: Arthur? Can you step into the flight deck?

CAROLYN: So what exactly is it your company does, Mr. Alyakhin?

MR. ALYAKHIN (Russian accent): We sell yachts.
CAROLYN: Oh! What sort of yachts?
MR. ALYAKHIN: Massive yachts.
CAROLYN: To whom?
MR. ALYAKHIN: To people who do not have massive yachts; or, more often, to people who do have
massive yachts but who would now like another yacht even more massive … or newer … or less
sunken.
CAROLYN: And d’you use a lot of private air travel?
MR. ALYAKHIN: Every spring, we are more or less constantly flying clients out to Antibes.
CAROLYN: Well, I do hope, this spring, you’ll consider MJN Air.
MR. ALYAKHIN (chuckling): I’m sorry. You are very good to support your employers, but my clients, they
expect a little more than, you know, a minibus with wings.
CAROLYN: Well, actually, I am the CEO of this company.
MR. ALYAKHIN: Really? But also the stewardess.
CAROLYN: For our most important clients, yes.
MR. ALYAKHIN: Hmm. This is, perhaps, one small thing in your favour. Most of the firms we use, the
stewardesses are very young, very beautiful, and the clients, of course, they like this, but sometimes it
causes … hmm! … problems. You, I think, would not cause these problems.
CAROLYN (grimly): No.
MR. ALYAKHIN: No. You are more like, er, old babushka.
CAROLYN (grimly): Am I really?
MR. ALYAKHIN: You know this word, er, babushka?
CAROLYN: Yes. Yes, I do. (Tightly) Thank you.
MR. ALYAKHIN: Yes, it’s not really a compliment.
CAROLYN: No. So will you, er, will you consider us?
MR. ALYAKHIN: No.
CAROLYN: But …
MR. ALYAKHIN: Seriously, no. Now, what wines do you have?
CAROLYN: Well, I gave you the wine list earlier.
MR. ALYAKHIN: Yes, I read that. It was very funny. What wines do you have?
CAROLYN: Those are our wines.
MR. ALYAKHIN (sighing): Very well. Luckily I did a little bit of shopping in Tokyo.
(Rustling of bags and the clink of bottles.)
MR. ALYAKHIN: Serve me this, please … Babushka.

MARTIN: Yes, Arthur, but aircraft don’t have chimneys.

ARTHUR: Why not?
DOUGLAS: Shall we move on? Next: presents.
ARTHUR: Well, I’ve got you all presents but they’re in the hold.
MARTIN: Ah, we could do a Secret Santa!
ARTHUR: Oh, great!
MARTIN (scribbling on paper): I write each of our names on four slips of paper. Now we all take one.
DOUGLAS: Mine says ‘Martin’.
MARTIN: … and we don’t say who we’ve got.
DOUGLAS: I bet they all say ‘Martin’.
MARTIN: No they don’t. And now we think of a present for whoever we’ve got.
DOUGLAS: Like what?
MARTIN: Anything. For instance, you could give your person – whoever he might be – first crack at the
cheese tray for a month; or do the walk-round for him next time it rains; or simply pay him a nice
compliment about what a fine commanding officer he is …
DOUGLAS (talking over him): This can be Carolyn’s slip. Give me another one.

(Door opens.)
CAROLYN: Douglas. What are you doing in the galley?
DOUGLAS: Searching for turkey.
CAROLYN: Well, I think there’s an old chicken sandwich in the door of the fridge.
DOUGLAS (opening the fridge door): A-ha! Oh, by the way, I’m supposed to tell you, we’re having a
Secret Santa.
CAROLYN: What fresh hell is this?
DOUGLAS: One of those things where you’re given a slip with someone’s name on it and you get them
a present. You got Martin.
CAROLYN: Look, tell him I’m sorry, but I just don’t have time t… Oh. Unless – does he like red wine?
DOUGLAS: Martin? I think so, yes.
CAROLYN: Fine. I’ll give him this then.
(Clink of a wine bottle.)
CAROLYN: Mr. Alyakhin just gave me this bottle to serve him. It’s nothing too special, is it?
DOUGLAS: Oh. Petrus 2005. That’s rather nice, actually.
CAROLYN: Oh! Well, it’s Martin’s lucky day, then.
DOUGLAS: And what are you planning to serve Mr. Alyakhin?
CAROLYN: Well, what do you think? The same wine box Chateau Gatwick we give everyone.
DOUGLAS: What happened to “our very best customer service”?
CAROLYN: Well, firstly, everyone’s palate is shot at thirty-five thousand feet and he’ll never notice; and
secondly, he calls me Babushka.
DOUGLAS: And yet he lives.

MARTIN: Hmm, now, what about a tree? Any ideas?

ARTHUR: Hmm. If we had a bush, we could put it on a stick.
MARTIN: Any ideas that don’t rely on us having a bush?
(Flight deck door opens.)
DOUGLAS: Gentlemen, I have in my hand a chicken sandwich.
ARTHUR: Oh, well done, Douglas! So we just need to fish the bits of chicken out and – I don’t know –
somehow make them a bit more like turkey.
MARTIN: How do we do that?
ARTHUR: Uh … can we make them drier and sort of not as nice tasting – but in a good way?
DOUGLAS: Certainly we can. Leave it to me. Next: Christmas pudding. How on earth are we going to
do that?
MARTIN: Well, I suppose it’s basically just a cake with dried fruit and cream on top …
ARTHUR: … and brandy poured over it and set fire to!
DOUGLAS: You realise that might be a tall-ish order in an aircraft flight deck?
ARTHUR: All right, I’ll let you off that one.
DOUGLAS: But I will check my coat pockets for chocolate raisins.
ARTHUR: Hooray!

CAROLYN: How are you finding your wine, Mr. Alyakhin?

MR. ALYAKHIN: Mmm, superb.
CAROLYN: So glad. Now, listen: I admit we may not be the fastest or slickest aircraft in the skies …
MR. ALYAKHIN: I think you more or less lost that race when the Wright Brothers took off.
CAROLYN: … but it’s owned and run by someone who will fight harder for your money; and not only
that, but will fight for much, much less of it – this much less.
(She hands him a piece of paper.)
MR. ALYAKHIN: Ah. Now that is very interesting argument – but could you really handle three or four
flights a month from us?
CAROLYN: Certainly. I mean, I won’t pretend we’re not a small company but …
MR. ALYAKHIN: Ah, that in itself is not a problem. I mean, so long as there’s a crew and a relief crew,
theoretically even if you employ just four pilots, we would consider you.
CAROLYN: Oh! Interesting!
MR. ALYAKHIN: How many do you employ?
CAROLYN: Well … (she chuckles nervously) … as it happens, the bare minimum of – as you say – four!
MR. ALYAKHIN: Yes. You see, the danger with really tiny firms is you tend to cut corners and bend rules
just to survive, and this leads to little problems.
CAROLYN: Ooh, not us, though. Absolutely not. We are sticklers at MJN. We … stickle.
MR. ALYAKHIN: Well, let me ring my CFO, and we shall see.

(Flight deck door opens.)

CAROLYN: Drivers, I’m bringing … Why does it smell of chicken in here?
MARTIN: Because Douglas has hung strips of chicken all over the air conditioning ducts.
CAROLYN: Arthur, why on earth …?
MARTIN: Not Arthur. Douglas.
CAROLYN: Oh, good lord, it’s catching. And what are you doing, Martin?
MARTIN: I am – for the benefit of your son – shelling these chocolate raisins.
CAROLYN: Shelling them?
MARTIN: Yes. There’s no chocolate in a Christmas pudding, so I’m rolling them between finger and
thumb until the chocolate crumbles off.
CAROLYN: Of course you are(!) Well, if I could just ask you to pack away your various charming
handicrafts for now, I’m bringing Mr. Alyakhin up to use the sat comm, so, Arthur – get in the locker.
ARTHUR: The locker?! Mum! Can’t I just hide in the galley?
CAROLYN: He has to come through the galley to get to the flight deck, idiot.
ARTHUR: Well, I won’t say anything to him. I’ll just be like, you know, the man in the galley, okay?
CAROLYN: No! It’s not okay! When a very wealthy businessman hires a private plane, he doesn’t
assume it’ll come with a man in the galley. Now, get in the locker.
ARTHUR (sighing): Fine.
(Metallic thumping noises as Arthur gets into the locker and closes the door.)
CAROLYN: All right, back in a minute. And, you two, try to look like pilots. You know, real pilots.
MARTIN: Oh, for …
(Flight deck door closes.)
DOUGLAS (quietly): Martin?
MARTIN: Mmm?
DOUGLAS: While Arthur’s … shut away in a small tin cupboard, can I ask you: in the Secret Santa, did
you happen to get me?
MARTIN: Well … I-I don’t think I should tell you, should I?
DOUGLAS: Not if you’re upholding the strictest principles of Santa-ly secretiveness, no – but just
between us?
MARTIN: Yes, as it happens, I did.
DOUGLAS: Excellent. Can I swap with you?
MARTIN: But then you’d get you.
DOUGLAS: I know.
MARTIN: Why-why would you want yourself?
DOUGLAS: Well, call it a harmless whim.
MARTIN: This is a scheme, isn’t it?
DOUGLAS: A scheme?! Me?! On Christmas Day?! What sort of a person do you take me for?
MARTIN: What are you after this time?
DOUGLAS: Oh, nothing that would interest you. Will you swap, then?
MARTIN: Who have you got?
DOUGLAS: Arthur.
MARTIN: Ooh! I could give him a stocking! Okay, then.
(They swap slips of paper.)
DOUGLAS: Thank you.
MARTIN: Now, do you have an orange on you?
DOUGLAS: An orange. (Thoughtfully) Orange.
(He pats his pockets.)
DOUGLAS: Let me just check my citrus pocket. … No.
(He pats his pockets again.)
DOUGLAS: And my emergency citrus pocket?
MARTIN: Yes, all right.
DOUGLAS: Why do you want one?
MARTIN: Well, there’s always an orange in a Christmas stocking! And chocolate coins! And a sugar
mouse.Everyone knows that.
DOUGLAS: I see. This is definitely all still for Arthur’s benefit, is it?
MARTIN: Yes!
DOUGLAS: Just checking. How are you going to make chocolate coins?
MARTIN: Well, I’ve the chocolate I peeled off the raisins; I just need to … put it on some coins.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Mr. Alyakhin, this is Captain Crieff.
MR. ALYAKHIN: Pleased to meet you.
DOUGLAS: And you – though, actually …
MARTIN: I’m the captain.
MR. ALYAKHIN: Are you?
MARTIN: Yes!
MR. ALYAKHIN: I’m sorry. I thought you were the … what do you call him … er …
DOUGLAS: ‘Captain’s Little Helper’?
MARTIN: No, I … I am the captain.
MR. ALYAKHIN: He doesn’t look like a captain. I fear our clients would not be impressed. Perhaps,
when welcoming them aboard, this one could wear the captain’s hat.
MARTIN: No, he couldn’t. Sorry, no.
DOUGLAS: No, I agree. You see, Captain Crieff here has assiduously built up his neck muscles by
constant wearing of that hat, whereas I fear the sheer weight of gold braid would snap mine like a dry
twig.
MR. ALYAKHIN: What does your other captain look like?
MARTIN: What other captain? I’m the captain!
CAROLYN: Out of the two of you, yes, but obviously we have other pilots at MJN Air.
MARTIN: Do we?!
CAROLYN: Yes, of course!
DOUGLAS: Remind me, if you would, of the names of the others?
CAROLYN: Well, there’s, er … there’s Nigel, and, um … and Noel.
DOUGLAS: Noel! Christmassy name.
CAROLYN: Yes! Yes, he was born on Christmas Day.
DOUGLAS: Oh, really?! I never knew that about old Noel.
CAROLYN: Well, now you do.
DOUGLAS: Is that why he didn’t have to fly today, because it’s his birthday?
CAROLYN: No – he doesn’t have to fly today, like Nigel, because they’re senior to you two and get to
pick their trips first … because they’re so much better.
DOUGLAS: Oh, I see. Is that why you’re stewardessing today as well, rather than our usual
stewardesses Holly and … Ivy and … Carol … and Mary Christmas?
MARTIN (laughing nervously as he joins in): Yes, and Bert!
DOUGLAS: Yes, dear old Bert the stewardess – eighty-six today and still less grumpy than certain of his
colleagues!
MARTIN (anxiously): Ei-ei-ei-ei-eighty-six today, did you say?
DOUGLAS: That’s right! He shares a birthday with Noel! … And the little baby Jesus.
CAROLYN: All right, that will do! Mr. Alyakhin, the sat comm.
MR. ALYAKHIN: Thank you, thank you.
(Sat comm on. Mr. Alyakhin dials a number, then starts speaking into the phone in Russian.)
DOUGLAS (quietly, as Mr. Alyakhin continues his conversation): Oh, er, by the way, Carolyn, sorry to
bother you but I’ve just realised I’ve got myself in the Secret Santa. Can I swap with you?
CAROLYN: What? Yes, yes, for all I care … Oh, no-no-no-no, wait. I was going to give Martin that wine.
DOUGLAS: So?
CAROLYN: Well, I can’t give it to you, can I? You don’t drink.
DOUGLAS: Oh, don’t worry – I have friends who drink. I’ll pass it on.
CAROLYN: Oh, all right, then. Here’s the slip.
MR. ALYAKHIN (into sat comm): Harasho. Spasibo, Andre. Spasibo.
(He disconnects.)
MR. ALYAKHIN: Okay.
(Sat comm off.)
MR. ALYAKHIN: I have finished. Babushka, let us return.
MARTIN: “Babushka”?
CAROLYN (dangerously): Say nothing.
(Flight deck door closes.)
MARTIN: So – your scheme, then.
DOUGLAS: Yes?
MARTIN: It’s to get hold of that bottle of wine?
DOUGLAS: Yes.
MARTIN: Expensive bottle of wine, is it?
DOUGLAS: Oh yes.
MARTIN: Really expensive?
DOUGLAS: Yep.
MARTIN: Hundreds of pounds?
DOUGLAS: Couple of thousand, probably.
MARTIN: You’re going to sell it?
DOUGLAS: Certainly am.
(Martin growls.)
DOUGLAS: Don’t feel bad for Carolyn – she nicked it in the first place.
MARTIN: Christmas really brings out the best in you, doesn’t it?(!)
ARTHUR (muffled): Er, chaps? Can I come out yet?
MARTIN: Oh God! Sorry, Arthur. Yes, of course.
(Thumping as the locker door opens.)
ARTHUR (sighing with relief): Oh, that’s better. Um, whose is this umbrella? I’m afraid I might have …
stood on it a bit.
MARTIN: Oh, Arthur! That’s mine! And it’s new!
ARTHUR: Sorry, Skip. Still, it is a green umbrella.
MARTIN: Yeah, so?
ARTHUR (opening the umbrella): Christmas tree!
DOUGLAS: Ah, yes!
(Martin groans.)
DOUGLAS: Just like the carol. (Singing) ♪ Deck the halls with Martin’s brolly … ♪
MARTIN: Douglas!
DOUGLAS (softly): ♪ Fa-la-la-la-laa la-la-la-laa. ♪

MR. ALYAKHIN: I am sorry, Babushka. I don’t think it will work. You, I like; and I believe I can see how
we could sell your terrible aircraft as retro experience – but your captain, he does not inspire confidence.
I’m afraid he looks to me like exactly the sort of rule-bending chance-taker I was talking about.
CAROLYN: What, Martin?! You’re rejecting us because you think Martin might not be enough of a
stickler?! Right. Come with me.

ARTHUR: Oh. It’s beautiful.

MARTIN: All right. Who wants to put the star on top?
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN (a little breathlessly): I’m bringing him back. Arthur, in your locker.
ARTHUR: I’m going! I’m going!
(Thumping of the locker door as Carolyn calls out to Mr. Alyakhin.)
CAROLYN: Come on through!
MR. ALYAKHIN: Gentlemen, sorry to interrupt again … Good lord. What is that?
DOUGLAS: Nothing. Just an umbrella.
MARTIN: It’s drying off.
MR. ALYAKHIN: You’ve … decorated it?
DOUGLAS: No, no. We’ve just dropped things on it … strategically.
MR. ALYAKHIN: And you – what are you covered in?
MARTIN: Me? Oh, oh, yes. I … (He laughs nervously.) I-I may have got a bit of, er, chocolatey stuff on
me.
MR. ALYAKHIN: Why?
MARTIN: Just a snack; keep the blood sugar level up. It’s a long way from Hong Kong to Hawaii.
DOUGLAS (urgently): Martin.
MR. ALYAKHIN: From Tokyo.
MARTIN: Yeah, but we started in Hong Kong.
CAROLYN (despairingly): Oh God.
MR. ALYAKHIN: D’you mean to tell me that, before you flew me from Tokyo to Molokai, you flew from
Hong Kong to Tokyo?
MARTIN: … No.
MR. ALYAKHIN: No you didn’t?
MARTIN: No, I didn’t mean to tell you that.
MR. ALYAKHIN: Then how can you possibly still be within your legal hours? I’m sorry, Babushka, but
this is precisely the sort of dangerous corner-cutting I was afraid of.
DOUGLAS: Er, if I may.
MR. ALYAKHIN: What?
DOUGLAS: Before you go any further, there’s someone I think you should meet.
(The locker door is opened.)
DOUGLAS: Mr. Alyakhin, this is Noel. Say hello, Noel.
ARTHUR: Hello. I’m Ar…
DOUGLAS (interrupting): But no need to say anything else. Noel is our relief pilot, who has been
swapping in and out with both of us throughout the two sectors, thus extending our duty hours in the
CAA-approved manner, haven’t you, Noel?
ARTHUR: Yes. I …
DOUGLAS (interrupting): That’ll do.
MR. ALYAKHIN: But why has he been hiding in locker?
DOUGLAS: Well … because, as you know, today’s his birthday, and we’re organising a surprise birthday
party for him!
MR. ALYAKHIN: I see. And I suppose that explains the chocolate and decorations.
DOUGLAS: Oh, so it does! I mean, yes, it does.
MR. ALYAKHIN: Hmm.

(Sound of GERTI’s engines shutting down. Flicking of switches.)

DOUGLAS: After-landing checks complete, and on stand at seven minutes to midnight precisely.
MARTIN (calling loudly): Arthur! We’re ready! In you come!
(Flight deck door opens.)
MARTIN: Okay, Arthur, your seven-minute Christmas starts … now!
ARTHUR: Hooray!
(He blows on a party hooter.)
MARTIN: Where did you get that from?
ARTHUR: Oh, I always carry one of these. You never know!
MARTIN: Aaaaand off we go! Tree – look!
ARTHUR: It’s beautiful!
DOUGLAS: It’s a green umbrella with little milk buckets stapled to it.
ARTHUR: I think it’s beautiful.
MARTIN: Decorations – ta-da!
ARTHUR: Wow! I’ve never seen so many of the warning lights on before!
DOUGLAS: Yes, yes – this is what happens if you tell a plane it’s flying when it’s actually parked. Poor
old GERTI would like us to know she’s flying considerably too close to the ground and infinitely too
slowly.
MARTIN: Turkey! Direct from the air con carvery. Here you go.
ARTHUR (scoffing some chicken-turkey): Lovely!
MARTIN: Seconds?
ARTHUR: Ooh, why not? It’s Christmas.
(He eats some more.)
MARTIN: Christmas pudding – now, the trick here is it’s a bit like a tequila slammer. You take a raisin,
dip it in custard cream crumbs and then knock it back with coffee creamer. Ready?
ARTHUR: Ready!
MARTIN: Go!
(Arthur follows the instructions, then chokes.)
ARTHUR: Ah. Oh. (High-pitched and a little strangled) Lovely!
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Success, my little Christmas elves! Mr. Alyakhin has agreed to give us a trial run in the New
Year.
MARTIN: Carolyn, great! You’re just in time for presents.
CAROLYN: Well, why are we doing it now?
ARTHUR: Because, for the next four minutes, it’s still Christmas!
CAROLYN: But …
DOUGLAS: Carolyn, you first.
CAROLYN: Oh. Well, yours is the wine, Douglas. Shall I get it for you?
MARTIN: No time! Douglas, what did you get for Carolyn?
DOUGLAS: You remember twenty minutes ago when I brilliantly and single-handedly saved your bacon
with the yacht broker?
CAROLYN: Yes.
DOUGLAS: Well … merry Christmas.
CAROLYN: … Thank you.
ARTHUR: My turn! My turn! This is for you, Martin. It’s one of just a couple of things you missed off the
list, you see. A silly hat!
MARTIN: … Oh … goodness. Is that my hat?
ARTHUR: Yes, but made silly!
DOUGLAS: Sillier.
MARTIN: How is all that staying on?
ARTHUR: Well, I’ve used a sort of framework of dry spaghetti …
MARTIN: Mmm-hmm.
ARTHUR: … to hold up the …
MARTIN: … the cooked spaghetti. Yes, yes. Thank you, Arthur. It’s just what I, um, least expected! Now
then, this is for you.
ARTHUR: Oh, an extra sock! Brilliant! Now I’ll always have a pair, even when one’s in the wash!
MARTIN: The sock’s not the present! It’s a stocking.
ARTHUR (excitedly): Oh, wow! Thank you, Skip! Oh, what have we got? Erm … an orange … Tic Tac …
MARTIN: It’s the closest I could get.
ARTHUR: … a sugar sachet with a … a rabbit drawn on it …
MARTIN: It’s a m-mouse! It’s a sugar mouse.
ARTHUR: Right, yeah! Er, and some five p’s that, um, with … what’s happened to the five p’s?
MARTIN: Because of the chocolate! They’re chocolate coins!
ARTHUR: Oh! Brilliant! Thank you!
(Someone’s watch alarm beeps.)
MARTIN: And midnight.
ARTHUR: Ohhh. Well, thank you, chaps. Best Christmas ever.
DOUGLAS: Really? You did spend a fair amount of it in a tin box.
ARTHUR: Yeah, all right. Well … well best this year, anyway.
DOUGLAS: Not necessarily. What about next Christmas?
ARTHUR: Well, that’ll be next year.
DOUGLAS: Interestingly, no. You see, I have a little extra present for you, Arthur – and that is the
information which, of course, as a professional pilot, Martin will hardly have forgotten, that as you fly
from Tokyo to Hawaii, you pass over a thing called the International Date Line …
MARTIN: Oh … oh!
DOUGLAS: … at which point you put the clocks back twenty-four hours. In a way, that makes this twelve
oh-one on Christmas morning.
ARTHUR (almost breathless with delight): No!
DOUGLAS: So my present to you, Arthur, is that we are all of us about to have the whole of Christmas
Day off, in Hawaii.
CAROLYN: Oh!
DOUGLAS: … some of us having had the benefit of a dry run.
ARTHUR (singing): ♪ Get dressed you merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay … ♪
DOUGLAS: Yes, perhaps save the full rendition for tomorrow morning.
ARTHUR: Thank you, Douglas! Best present ever! Oh – and actually that’s great, because I got an extra
present for everyone. The other thing you left off my list, Skip.
MARTIN: Hmm?
ARTHUR: This!
MARTIN: Mulled wine!
(Arthur pours out glasses of the mulled wine.)
MARTIN: Oh, lovely(!)
DOUGLAS (murderously): You … took my Petrus ’05 … and you … mulled it?
ARTHUR: Well, not properly. I don’t have the stuff. But, you know, I whacked in some fruit juice and
some sugar and the rest of the orange Tic Tacs, and then I just blitzed it in the microwave! It’ll be close
enough!
DOUGLAS (murderously): You …
MARTIN (interrupting): Of course it will be close enough! And it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it,
Douglas?
DOUGLAS (murderously): Absolutely. Thank you, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Oh, you’re welcome! Merry Christmas!
(They clink glasses, drink, and then all choke and cough.)
CAROLYN: … That’s actually rather good!

SEASON 3 – EPISODE 1: Qikiqtarjuaq

This week, Qikiqtarjuaq!

CAROLYN: Good morning, gentlemen! How are we today? Satiated with the delights of New York? All
ready to go home?
DOUGLAS: Yes.
MARTIN: Mmm, absolutely.
CAROLYN: Then home we shall go … almost straightaway, pausing only for an extremely minor detour
…
DOUGLAS: Oh, no!
MARTIN: Carolyn, I can’t!
CAROLYN: … in Toronto.
DOUGLAS: Oh. Well, that is quite close.
CAROLYN: … and then a quick stop to Qikiqtarjuaq and straight home.
DOUGLAS: … Sorry, where?
CAROLYN: Qikiqtarjuaq. Q-I-K …
ARTHUR: Mum, sorry, but you forgot the U.
CAROLYN: No, I did not. There isn’t a U. It’s Q-I-K-I …
ARTHUR: No, Mum. There’s always a U after a Q. It’s the law. Mrs Dimont taught me that – eventually.
CAROLYN: And you are a credit to her. Nonetheless, the good people of Qikiqtarjuaq choose to spell it
Q-I-K-I-Q-T …
MARTIN: Another Q?!
CAROLYN: Yes. … Q-T …
ARTHUR: Q-T?! Well, I’m not gonna be the one to tell Mrs Dimont.
DOUGLAS: Leaving the spelling bee aside for a moment, where is this Qikiqtarryjack?
CAROLYN: Are you referring to Qikiqtarjuaq?
DOUGLAS: You’re really proud of yourself for having learned to say that, aren’t you?
CAROLYN: Yes. Also, it’s rather pleasing to say ‘Qikiqtarjuaq’. Anyway, it’s in Canada.
MARTIN: Near Toronto?
CAROLYN: Near-ish.
MARTIN: How near-ish?
CAROLYN: About, ooh, seventeen hundred miles.
MARTIN: No, Carolyn, I’m sorry. I absolutely can’t. I’ve got a job on Thursday.
CAROLYN: No you haven’t.
MARTIN: I do. Not with MJN. I mean a delivery job with my van.
CAROLYN: Oh well, that doesn’t matter.
MARTIN: It matters to me, Carolyn! It happens to be the only thing I’m actually paid to do.
DOUGLAS: Right – I’ve looked it up on my phone. It’s a tiny isolated settlement in the Arctic Circle. Why
on Earth are we going there?
CAROLYN: Because that is where the polar bears are.
DOUGLAS: And where do the polar bears want to go?
CAROLYN: The polar bears don’t want to go anywhere. The polar bears just want to be left in peace and
quiet, but that is where the polar bears find themselves bang out of luck, because we are picking up a
dozen tourists from Unbeaten Track Travel and flying them past every polar bear we can find between
Toronto and Qikiqtarjuaq.
ARTHUR (almost bursting with excitement): What?! Are we?! Polar bears?! We’re gonna fly over polar
bears?! And see them and look at them and be with the polar bears?!
CAROLYN: Yes, we are.
MARTIN: No, we’re not.
ARTHUR: Yes, we are, Skip!
MARTIN: No, we’re not! For one thing, GERTI’s much too fast a plane. You need a prop engined aircraft
to watch wildlife, not a jet.
CAROLYN: Well, why can’t you just fly slower?
ARTHUR: Yeah, we can just fly slower!
MARTIN: No, we can’t.
DOUGLAS: Of course we can. We can come down to a hundred, a hundred and twenty easily as long
as we watch the angle of bank.
ARTHUR: Yeah, Martin! We just need to watch the angle of bank and the polar bears! We need to watch
the polar bears!
MARTIN: No, we can’t. She’d be hard to manoeuvre and likely to stall. It would be incredibly dangerous
and unprofessional.
DOUGLAS: Fun, though. When do we leave?
CAROLYN: Straightaway.
MARTIN: No!
DOUGLAS: Good!
ARTHUR: Brilliant!
CAROLYN: Oh, if you’re online, Douglas, look up ‘polar bears’ or ‘exploring’ or something.
DOUGLAS: Why?
CAROLYN: Because one of you will have to give a lecture on it. Unbeaten Track’s thing is that the crew
are all experts on the region and they give lectures.
ARTHUR: Can I give a lecture on polar bears?
CAROLYN (instantly): No.
DOUGLAS: What do you know about polar bears, Arthur?
ARTHUR: Polar bears are … brilliant.
DOUGLAS: You might want to pad that out with some PowerPoints.

DOUGLAS: All right. Alfred Hitchcock.

MARTIN: Ooh, okay. Let’s hear it.
(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS (over cabin address): Hallo. My name is First Officer Douglas Richardson. On behalf of the
captain and myself, a warm welcome aboard this MJN flight to Qikiqtarjuaq. Just to let you know we will
be flying out from Toronto today, roughly “North by Northwest” at the “Vertigo”-inducing height of twenty
thousand feet, way above “The Birds”. You will already have met your purser today, Carolyn “Rebecca”
“Topaz”, but now, as “The Lady Vanishes” behind the “Torn Curtain” into the galley, the steward will hold
you “Spellbound” with his “Notorious” demonstration of “The Thirty-Nine Steps” to a safe evacuation,
though these basically boil down to three: pull the “Rope”, inflate the “Lifeboat” and escape through the
“Rear Window”.
MARTIN: Ten?
DOUGLAS: Thirteen.
MARTIN: Mmm!
DOUGLAS: I think. I very nearly got “The Man Who Knew Too Much” in, but I was – after all – talking
about Arthur.
(The flight deck door opens.)
NANCY (angrily, in a Canadian accent): Excuse me.
MARTIN: Oh, uh, hello. I-I’m the captain, Martin Crieff, and this is …
NANCY: Nancy Dean Liebhart.
DOUGLAS: Not quite, but what an interesting guess.
NANCY: Expedition supervisor, Unbeaten Track Travel. What was that, please?
MARTIN: What was what?
NANCY: The Hitchcock thing.
DOUGLAS: Oh, you noticed that! Well done.
NANCY: ‘In an emergency, climb out through the Rear Window’? Does that strike you as a professional
thing for the pilot of an aircraft to say?
MARTIN: No, no, absolutely not.
NANCY: ‘No, absolutely not’ is right, so what the hell just happened?
DOUGLAS: I can assure you, madam, I am entirely professional in all …
NANCY (talking over him): No, you’re not. I can tell professionalism a mile off. You don’t have it,
sir. This guy has it. You don’t.
MARTIN (surprised): Oh! Well, do I? I mean, yes, yes, I do, actually. Thank you. Thank you for noticing.
NANCY: So. Why did you let him do it?
DOUGLAS: Yes, why did you let me do it?
MARTIN: Yes, I-I do apologise. Rest assured, I will be disciplining him.
DOUGLAS: Oh, will you?
MARTIN (through gritted teeth): Yes, I will. (Smarmily, to Nancy) And the rest of the flight will be
conducted in an entirely professional atmosphere of the utmost professionality that I always bring to my
… my … my …
DOUGLAS: … profession?
MARTIN: … workplace.
CAROLYN: Hello. Everything all right in here?
NANCY: Ah. Are you Carolyn Shappey-Knappey?
CAROLYN: More or less. Hello. Pleased to meet you.
NANCY: Nancy Dean Liebhart, expedition supervisor. I was expecting you to meet me and the travellers
at the gate.
CAROLYN: Oh, yes, sorry. I was unavoidably detained in the airport, helping the steward find a book
about polar bears.
NANCY: So, in your absence, I had to conduct them aboard a strange aircraft – in every sense – get
them seated and then listen to your first officer squeezing Hitchcock films into the cabin address.
CAROLYN: Ooh, how many did you get?
DOUGLAS: Thirteen.
CAROLYN: Well done!
NANCY: I would like a word with you in the galley, madam.
CAROLYN: With great pleasure.
DOUGLAS: Oh, before you go, how long do you want this Arctic lecture? I’ve worked up about twenty
minutes’ worth. Will that do?
NANCY: That won’t be necessary, thank you.
DOUGLAS: But I thought at Unbeaten Track you always …
NANCY: At Unbeaten Track, we do, because our crews are staffed by professional experts and
adventurers with genuine stories to tell. What I feel I would get from you, sir, is some zany British
humour, and I’ve already had about as much of that as I can take.
(Flight deck door closes.)
DOUGLAS: Well, she was a little ray of sunshine, wasn’t she?
MARTIN: I thought she was quite right.
DOUGLAS: Did you?
MARTIN: Yes. I’m sorry to say this, Douglas, but sometimes you are unprofessional.
DOUGLAS: Shall we drop the subject?
MARTIN: No. Douglas, this is difficult, um, because I-I think we’ve become friends, and, um, and I’m
glad about that, but I-I do also think I have a duty to you, a-a-as your captain …
DOUGLAS (ominously): Think very, very carefully about how you want to finish this sentence.
MARTIN: … as your captain, to let you know when you’re getting into bad habits, and it was
unprofessional to do the Film Game on real live passengers.
DOUGLAS: You said, “Let’s hear it.”
MARTIN: And what’s worse is that you were seriously considering low-altitude, low-speed manoeuvres
in theArctic, which would be very unsafe for us.
DOUGLAS: It’ll be perfectly safe so long as I’m the one doing it.
MARTIN: Yeah, look, you see, no, you-you think you’re this invincible pilot, but things go wrong
for everyone. And if you’re not professional in your assessment …
DOUGLAS (talking over him): And you’re the perfect professional, are you?
MARTIN: No, well, not perfect, but I am professional. I analyse risk; I make sure I’m in a position to deal
with whatever is thrown at me.
DOUGLAS: Of course, you know what the actual definition of a professional is, don’t you?
MARTIN: I’m just …
DOUGLAS: What actually separates professionals from amateurs.
MARTIN: I …
DOUGLAS: It’s being paid to do the job – the way Carolyn pays me. And doesn’t pay you.
(Brief silence.)
MARTIN: Pre-take-off checklist, please.
DOUGLAS: Certainly, Captain.

NANCY: So you understand the issue I have around this?

CAROLYN: Oh, absolutely, and I do apologise for not being there to meet you, but I assure you that –
though small – MJN Air adheres to the highest standards of professionalism.
ARTHUR: Mum.
CAROLYN: Uh, not now, I’m busy.
ARTHUR: No, there’s a serious problem.
CAROLYN: What, really?
ARTHUR: Yes, look. This book only has a polar bear on the cover. It’s actually about all kinds of bears.
CAROLYN: Well, I rather set myself up for that, didn’t I?
NANCY: It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I’ve seen your website.
ARTHUR: Ooh, have you?! Brilliant. You see, Mum? I told you people would go.
NANCY: Oh! You did that, did you?
ARTHUR: Thank you!
NANCY: Are you a professional web designer?
ARTHUR: No! Not even a bit! But there’s this website that makes it really simple, even if you’re
completely clueless. You can make it play music, and the words flash, and, you know, put in things like
the line of dancing aeroplanes – you know, make it look … make it look really professional.
NANCY: Okay, Ms Knapp-Shappey, I’m going to ask you and your crew from now on at all times to refer
to this flight as being an Unbeaten Track flight, not an MJN one.
CAROLYN: Why? It is an MJN flight.
NANCY: Yes, but my concern is that travellers may Google you on their return and discover – no offence
– what sort of outfit you are.
CAROLYN: When you say, “No offence,” do you in fact know what that means?

MARTIN: Could you balance the fuel, Douglas?

(Click.)
MARTIN: Have you done it?
DOUGLAS: You saw me do it.
MARTIN: It is protocol to tell me when you’ve done it.
DOUGLAS: I’ve done it.
(Flight deck door opens. Carolyn comes in sounding furious.)
CAROLYN: Right. If that bloody woman thinks she can tell me how to act in my own … What is the
matter with you two, then?
MARTIN: Nothing.
DOUGLAS: Nothing.
CAROLYN: Well, obviously something. Oh, hang on, I’ve just realised: I don’t care. Douglas, I have
decided that, on this flight, I require some mildly but not life-threatening unprofessional amusement with
which to while away the time.
MARTIN: Carolyn, no.
DOUGLAS: What a good idea!
MARTIN: Carolyn, I specifically gave Nancy my word …
DOUGLAS: There’s always The Travelling Lemon, for instance.
CAROLYN: Oh, of course! The very thing!
MARTIN: What? What’s that?
DOUGLAS: Not come across The Travelling Lemon, Martin, in all your ‘professional experience’? Well,
Player One strolls through a full passenger cabin, chatting to the adoring public of this or that topic of
interest and, as he goes, he casually secretes – somewhere where it can still be clearly seen – a lemon,
or other citrus fruit as mutually agreed by the players and referees before match play commences, but
I’m a traditionalist and favour a lemon.
CAROLYN: And then Player Two goes out, finds it, retrieves it, hides it again. Now, what’s our record,
Douglas?
DOUGLAS: I believe on that night flight to Miami we achieved a rally of sixteen.
CAROLYN: Well, I’m sure we can top that.
DOUGLAS: Doubtless. Shall I go first?
CAROLYN: Oh, by all means.
MARTIN (anguished): No!
DOUGLAS: Back soon!
(Flight deck door closes. Martin sighs.)
MARTIN: Carolyn, I’m glad I’ve got you alone.
CAROLYN: Oh dear.
MARTIN: I want a pay rise.
CAROLYN: Martin, this is not the time or the place.
MARTIN: Yes, it is. I do a difficult and demanding job and I want a pay rise.
CAROLYN: Fine. Consider your salary doubled.
MARTIN: Very funny.
CAROLYN (laughing): Do-do you see? Because twice nothing is nothing!
MARTIN: Yes, I get it.
CAROLYN: I could have said ‘tripled’ because three times nothing is also nothing and so on.
MARTIN: I really do understand.
CAROLYN: Do you? Good, because all this hilarious japery is a nice way of saying, ‘No, absolutely not’.
MARTIN: That’s the nice way, is it?
CAROLYN: Oh-ho-ho, you should hear the nasty way.
(Flight deck door opens.)
DOUGLAS: Carolyn, the lemon is in play.
CAROLYN: Super!
MARTIN: Carolyn, please don’t let Nancy see you do this.
CAROLYN: What do you care what she sees?
MARTIN: Just don’t.

ARTHUR: And this one’s a koala bear. Uh, that’s not actually a bear, in fact. This one is a panda
bear. That’snot actually a bear. Honestly, it’s like nothing’s actually a bear.
MRS COOK (Canadian accent): I’m sorry. I’m confused. Why are you showing me this?
ARTHUR: It’s interesting about bears and things. Don’t worry: it’s all part of the service. It’s not extra.
We’re all experts on stuff today, you see? I’m the expert on bears. And Egypt, actually. In Egypt, they
used to pull your brains out through your nose with a hook. And that’s not even something in this book –
that’s something I know!
MRS COOK: Is someone looking after you, young man?
ARTHUR: No, I’m looking after you! You are confused, aren’t you?
CAROLYN: Arthur, what are you doing?
ARTHUR: Er, teaching.
CAROLYN: Code Red, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Ooh, right-o.
(Receding footsteps.)
MRS COOK: What’s Code Red?
CAROLYN: Ooh, it’s just a code between him and I. It means, ‘Go away, go away now, go away fast’.
Now, can I get you anything to drink?
MRS COOK: A Coke, please.
CAROLYN (pouring the drink): Certainly. Ice and lemon?
MRS COOK: Just ice, please.
CAROLYN (dropping ice cubes into the glass): All right. One Coke with ice.
MRS COOK: Thank you.
CAROLYN: And I’ll take that.
MRS COOK: Did you just take something out of my handbag?
CAROLYN: No-no, no, no, just from on the top of it.
MRS COOK: What? What did you take?
CAROLYN: Only this. Sorry – I thought you said you didn’t want lemon.
MRS COOK: No, I don’t, but …
CAROLYN: Is it your lemon?
MRS COOK: Uh, no.
CAROLYN: Well, I’ll look after it, then. Thank you very much.

DOUGLAS: Right. Probably about time to give them my lecture.

MARTIN: No, you’re not doing a lecture. In fact, I’m going to do all the cabin address from now on.
DOUGLAS: Oh. All right.
(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS: Hallo, ladies and gentlemen.
MARTIN (quietly): Douglas, stop!
DOUGLAS: You want to talk to them, little Captain Perfect? You can talk to them.
MARTIN: Douglas!
DOUGLAS: Obviously I’ve got my thumb on the Mute button.
MARTIN (sighing with relief): Right, then. Well, then …
DOUGLAS: Up until now. Ladies and gentlemen, it is now my pleasure to introduce you to your captain
today, Captain (he assumes a French accent) Martin duCref (he reverts to his normal accent) who joins
us today for his first flight, in fact, after ten years with Air France.
MARTIN (furiously, quietly): You …
DOUGLAS: Dealing with whatever’s thrown at you?
MARTIN: Although actually I’m …
DOUGLAS: French. He’s a French pilot, from France.
MARTIN (putting on an appallingly bad French accent): … ’allo. It is mah pleasure to be today your pilot
on this journey most exciting. ’owever, as I am not, uh, the nattive speaker, the first officer will (he drifts
back into his own accent) do most of the talking today.
DOUGLAS: Oh, well, if you insist.
MARTIN: Douglas, that was the most …
(Flight deck door opens.)
NANCY: What the hell was that?
DOUGLAS: Bonjour, Madame. Bienvenue dans le flight deck.
MARTIN: I’m sorry, I …
NANCY: You, I thought I could … not rely on, but I thought at least I could take my eye off you while I
run round nursemaiding the rest of your outfit.
MARTIN: It wasn’t my fault, though! Douglas …
NANCY: Yeah, the big boy made you do it, I know, I heard. I mean, I thought you could take care of him.
This is it, though, okay? I’m talking to you now.
DOUGLAS: Oh, really? How lovely.
NANCY: You’ve had your fun. It’s over.
DOUGLAS: You see, I don’t know. I think there might be some mileage left in it.
MARTIN: No, don’t worry. I will manage him.
NANCY: I certainly hope so.
(Flight deck door closes.)
MARTIN: Douglas, please. I’m asking you nicely.
DOUGLAS: You didn’t tell your friend you’d ask me nicely, though, did you? You told her you’d ‘manage’
me. So, let’s see you.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Douglas, the lemon is with you.
DOUGLAS: Ah, excellent!
MARTIN (frantic): No, please! Carolyn, we just had Nancy in here. She’s really angry. She explicitly said
…
DOUGLAS (airily): Bye.
(Flight deck door closes. Martin groans.)
CAROLYN: Don’t worry about her, Martin. She didn’t book us. She’s just a jumped-up rep.
MARTIN: Yes, I know. I just … I really want her to think of me as a professional.
CAROLYN: Why? What do you care what she thinks?
MARTIN: Well, she said I was one and … and now she thinks I’m not and I … Well, I’m not, am I,
because you don’t pay me. You pay the others but you don’t pay me.
CAROLYN: It’s not that I won’t, Martin. I can’t. How many times do I have to tell you: this is a loss-
making company which could fold at any moment. Anyway, I don’t pay Arthur.
MARTIN: But he lives with you, so he gets all his food and lodging for free.
CAROLYN: Martin, let me nip this very much in the bud – any suggestion of you coming to live with us.
MARTIN: Oh God, no! No, no-no-no. And what about Douglas? You pay him, don’t you?
CAROLYN: Yes. Yes, I pay him because I have to pay him, because he’s not like you. If I stopped paying
him, he’d stop coming to work – in the limited sense of the word ‘work’ that applies to Douglas.
MARTIN: You … could … cut his pay, though.
CAROLYN: You want me to cut Douglas’ pay.
MARTIN: No, I-I don’t want you to, I’m just saying you could, theoretically, split it between us. It’s not
unreasonable. We do the same job. Why should he get all the pay? I mean, have you ever thought about
the way I live at home?
CAROLYN: Not – I’m delighted to say – for a single second.
MARTIN: Yes, well, maybe you should. I get ten pounds an hour as a Man with a Van.
CAROLYN: Well, there’s your problem. That’s far too cheap. Last time I used one, I paid about twenty-
five.
MARTIN: Yes, but my van’s very old and breaks down a lot, and half the time I’m not there because I’m
flying an aircraft for you. The only thing I’ve got going for me is that I’m cheap. So I live in a horrible attic
in a shared house where I’m the only grown-up. All the other five are students at the agricultural college.
I’ve been therenine years now; that’s three generations of students. They pass me on to the next lot like
a sort of friendly ghost: “Oh, are you living in Parkside Terrace next year? Well, listen, there’s a pilot in
the attic but don’t worry, he never bothers anyone.” I can’t afford to go out, to buy nice food. I live on
toast and pasta. Sometimes, for a treat, I have a baked potato. So – just so you know – I’m not asking
because I’m greedy.
(Long pause.)
CAROLYN: I will think about it.
MARTIN: Thank you.
(Flight deck door opens.)
DOUGLAS: Behold! The lemon! That’s an easy one, Carolyn. You think a seasoned old Travelling
Lemon player like me doesn’t know the old ‘air freshener substitution’ trick?
MARTIN: Right, good. You’ve both hidden it, you’ve both found it. Game over, all right?
DOUGLAS: No, no. We’re just starting a rally.
CAROLYN: Douglas, maybe we should …
DOUGLAS: Of course, you haven’t found it yet, Martin.
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: I’ll do you a deal. I’ll hide it for you. If you find it, you can keep it. Game over.
MARTIN: And no new game?
DOUGLAS: No new game.
MARTIN: Promise you won’t hide it anywhere near or on Nancy.
DOUGLAS: Damn. All right.
MARTIN: And it’ll be in plain sight?
DOUGLAS: Of course. That is the most sacred and fundamental law of The Travelling Lemon.
MARTIN: All right.

ARTHUR: Hello. You’re – you’re the woman from Unbeaten Track, aren’t you?
NANCY: Yes. Hello.
ARTHUR: Hello. Uh, we didn’t meet properly. I’m Arthur. I’m the steward and bear expert. For instance,
the sloth bear eats half its own body weight every month.
NANCY: I’m a little busy with these forms.
ARTHUR: Oh, you should do what I do. Don’t do them. Listen, I-I was just wondering: are all your
experts on your crew or do you have guest lecturers?
NANCY: Yes, sometimes.
ARTHUR: Right, because I just know an awful lot about bears – at the moment. Uh, so if you ever need
to, you know, borrow me, well you’d have to sort it out with Mum but I’m sure it’d be okay.
NANCY: Thank you for your offer. I’ll bear that in mind.
ARTHUR: Bear!
NANCY: Where?
ARTHUR: No-no, you said, “Bear that in mind,” like a bear! (He laughs uproariously.) Oh, I might put that
in my lecture!

MR. PEARY (Canadian accent): Excuse me, Captain.

MARTIN: Yes, hello.
MR. PEARY: Oh! You – you sound different in person.
(Pause.)
MARTIN (putting on his terrible French accent): Do I? I do not know why. Can I ’elp you?
MR. PEARY: I just wondered if everything was okay. You’ve been up and down the cabin three times
now.
MARTIN (French accent): Ah, non, all is well. I just, erm … You ’aven’t, by any chance, seen …
MR. PEARY: Seen what?
MARTIN (French accent): … a little lemon?
MR. PEARY: What?!
MARTIN (French accent): Nothing. It is no matter.

(Flight deck door opens.)

DOUGLAS: Ah, hello, Captain. I’d given you up for lost. Found the lemon yet?
MARTIN: No.
DOUGLAS: Oh dear. Then the revelry continues.
MARTIN: Look, Douglas, let’s just stop fighting.
DOUGLAS: That’s easy for you to say. You started it.
MARTIN: Yes, all right, and now I want to finish it.
DOUGLAS: But it hasn’t occurred to you, for instance, to say ‘sorry’.
MARTIN: I’m … sorry. I’m sorry I called you unprofessional.
DOUGLAS: Thank you.
MARTIN: So we’re quits?
DOUGLAS: Nearly. Maybe if …
(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS: Ladies and gentlemen, First Officer Richardson again. As you know, here at Unbeaten
Track, it’s our pleasure to provide you with a short talk or anecdote …
MARTIN (hissing quietly): Douglas, no!
DOUGLAS: … from one of the crew with particular knowledge of the region. In this case, I’d like to invite
Captain duCref …
MARTIN (quietly, hysterically): Pleeeeease!
DOUGLAS: … to share with you the enthralling story of how he once encountered a polar bear in the
wild and outwitted it armed only with – if I recall correctly – an egg whisk and a pogo stick. Ladies and
gentlemen, your captain!
MARTIN (terrible French accent): … ’Allo. Well … I don’t like to talk about zis.
DOUGLAS: But you’ve agreed to now! We’re most honoured! So, when did it happen?
MARTIN (French accent): Uh … when I was in ze French Foreign Legion.
DOUGLAS: Ah, the regiment famous for being non-Frenchmen.
MARTIN (French accent): Yes. For me they made ze exception … because I am not entirely French
… (he begins to drift into his normal accent) … in fact, I’m half-English – more than half, actually, so
… (he forces himself to return to the French accent) … anyway, we were stationed in Alaska …
DOUGLAS: Unusual for a desert regiment.
MARTIN (French accent): Yes, it was unusual. We wanted to ’ave … ze element of surprise. Anyway, I
saw a polar bear, so I called out to my comrades …
DOUGLAS: What did you call out?
MARTIN (French accent): … “Look out! A polar bear!”
DOUGLAS: Only you said it in French.
MARTIN (French accent): Of course I said it in French then. I do not say it in French now because …
no-one would understand me.
DOUGLAS: But, just out of interest, what is ‘polar bear’ in French?
MARTIN (French accent): It is, in fact, the same as in English.
DOUGLAS: Really? ‘Polar bear’?
MARTIN (French accent): Yes. It is a word we have borrowed from your langwaj. Only, of course, we say
‘bear polar’.
DOUGLAS: I see. So you saw the polar bear, you called out, “Attention, mes amis! Regardez-vous le
bear polar!” And then what?
MARTIN (very rapidly in his French accent): Then I put the egg whisk into the snowdrift, whisked it up
like a blizzard in the bear’s face, then under cover of his confusion, I bounced away on the pogo stick.
Zhank you, goodbye.
DOUGLAS: Goodness, what a remarkable story! Just goes to show, ladies and gentlemen, truth is
stranger than fiction.
MARTIN (normal accent): Thanks. Thanks a lot. You-you had to do that, didn’t you? I just
wanted one person – one stranger – to take me seriously as a professional pilot, but you couldn’t even
allow that. You had to humiliate me even after I’d said sorry – and now I don’t know why I did.
DOUGLAS: If it helps, the cabin address wasn’t on for any of that.
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: No-one heard it but you and me.
MARTIN: You weren’t pressing the Mute button, and the red light was on.
DOUGLAS: True; but while you were out playing hunt the lemon, I switched the LED round. Now the red
light comes on when the PA is off.
MARTIN: But … that would mean it’s on now.
DOUGLAS: It is, but now I have got my thumb on the Mute button.
MARTIN: You absolute …
(Flight deck door bursts open.)
ARTHUR: BEARS!!
(Martin yells out in surprise.)
ARTHUR: Bears, bears, bears! Polar bears! Look, on the ground!
DOUGLAS: Of all places! Excellent! Right, bears, let’s see what you’ve got.
(GERTI’s engines start to strain.)
MARTIN: Douglas, I don’t think …
(The engines whine even more with strain.)
MARTIN: Douglas, we don’t have the altitude!
DOUGLAS (enthusiastically): Oh, we’ve got plenty of altitude!
MARTIN: We don’t! We’re at treetop level already!
DOUGLAS (enthusiastically): Ah, but you’re forgetting – no trees in the Arctic! That gives us at least
another thirty foot!
MARTIN: No, it doesn …
DOUGLAS: Oh, you think you can get away that way, do you, Paddington?
MARTIN (panic-stricken): No! Douglas, you’ll stall it!
DOUGLAS: No I won’t. Just sit back and enjoy the ride!
MARTIN: I can’t enjoy it if you’re gonna kill us all!
DOUGLAS: Don’t exaggerate! Ah-ha!
MARTIN: (screaming in terror)
DOUGLAS: Let’s be having you, then, Winnie!
MARTIN: Douglas! I have control!
DOUGLAS: No you don’t! Ooh, Baloo at ten o’clock! (He impersonates a machine gun.) Daka-daka-
daka-daka-daka-daka!
MARTIN (panic-stricken): Douglas, please, please stop! You’re gonna kill us all! Please! You’ll kill us all!
DOUGLAS (tetchily): Oh, fine.
(GERTI’s engines settle down to their normal noise. Martin pants noisily.)
DOUGLAS: Honestly, what a fuss.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN (sounding a little breathless): Gentlemen.
DOUGLAS: There you go. We gave them a bit of a show, didn’t we?
CAROLYN: Oh yes.
DOUGLAS: Sorry I had to stop, but they must have got a pretty good eyeful of the bears, didn’t they?
CAROLYN: They mainly weren’t looking at the bears.
DOUGLAS: Why ever not?
CAROLYN: Because they were mainly frozen in terror, because for some reason, as soon as you started
chasing the bears, the cabin address came on.
DOUGLAS: Oh dear. Now that, I admit, was a bit unprofessional.

(Sound of the passengers disembarking, muttering amongst themselves.)

CAROLYN: Goodbye. Goodbye. Thank you for flying with Unbeaten Track.
ARTHUR: Goodbye. A female bear is called a sow.
CAROLYN: Goodbye, madam. Thank you for flying Unbeaten Track.
ARTHUR: Goodbye. A grizzly bear can strip a deer’s carcass in six minutes.
MRS COOK: I beg your pardon?
CAROLYN: Farewell bear facts, madam, courtesy of Unbeaten Track.
NANCY: Excuse me! Let me through! I need you to stop saying that. It was MJN Air, madam.
Remember, any complaints or lawsuits you may have, direct them to MJN Air.
MARTIN: Er, excuse me, Nancy.
NANCY: I’ve nothing to say to you, Captain.
MARTIN: No, well, I have something to say to you. I know I haven’t come across as completely
professional this trip …
NANCY: Ha!
MARTIN (passionately): … but as it happens, I am professional. I am the most professional pilot I
know. (His voice falters.) It’s just … well, it happens that I fly with a crew who … well, I’m not blaming
them, it’s just …(He shouts frantically) … they never behave like the crews in the manuals! They don’t
even behave like the crews in the manuals who are the examples of crews behaving badly! They do
things no manual’s ever thought of! (He pulls himself together.) Anyway, I, er, I just wanted to say I am
paid to fly aeroplanes, I do it proudly and I take it seriously. I am absolutely a professional, and I don’t
need you to tell me so.
NANCY: Well. that’s a very lovely speech. Very moving.
MARTIN: Hm. Thank you.
NANCY: D’you know what would have made it even better? If you’d given it without a lemon taped to the
top of your hat.

SEASON 3 – EPISODE 2: Paris

This week, Paris!

(In the portacabin)

ARTHUR (singing to the tune of Happy Birthday to You): ♪ Happy Birling Day to us! Happy Birling Day to
us! (He strains to reach the high note on the next line.) Happy Birling Day, dear Martin and Douglas and
Arrrrr-thur … ♪
MARTIN: All right, Arthur, that’ll do!
ARTHUR (finishing off the song rapidly): ♪ Happy Birling Day to us! ♪
MARTIN: Arthur!
ARTHUR: Sorry! I just love Birling Day, don’t you?
MARTIN: No, I don’t. I didn’t become a pilot so that I could bow and scrape to some horrible dotty old
man just because he gives massive tips.
DOUGLAS: Well don’t do it, then.
MARTIN: Yes – unfortunately I also didn’t become a pilot who earns enough to afford not to.
(Carolyn comes in.)
CAROLYN: Ah, Douglas. Nice and early for Birling Day, I see.
DOUGLAS: Ah, Carolyn. Likewise.
CAROLYN: You are not going to win this time, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: An interesting theory. Let me propose an alternative one: I am going to win this time.
CAROLYN: Ah, but …
DOUGLAS: And this is a theory I have built up from the following postulates: one – I win every time; two
– this is a time; three – I will win this time.
ARTHUR: Ooh, is this about the whiskey?
CAROLYN: Yes, Arthur, this is about this two hundred pound bottle of twenty-five years old single malt
Talisker whiskey which I am providing at the request of and for the sole benefit of Mr. Birling – and of
which Douglas here is not going to get so much as a single solitary sip.
DOUGLAS: Well, that’s true. I’m not going to drink it – I’m going to sell it.
CAROLYN: You are not going to do anything with it, Raffles, and I’ll tell you why not: this Birling Day, the
whiskey is going to be under constant and vigilant watch.
DOUGLAS: Oh, are you coming with us for once? That, I admit, does make it a little more interesting.
CAROLYN: No, I’m not. I do not trust myself to spend any more than twenty minutes with Mr. Birling
without thumping him in the cravat. No, I am referring to my newly-appointed eyes and ears in the air,
Detective Inspector Martin Crieff.
DOUGLAS: Oh, really?!
MARTIN: Yes. Sorry, Douglas, but she offered me a hundred pounds if I stop you from stealing it.
DOUGLAS: And let me guess: If I do steal it, you pay her?
MARTIN: … Yes.
DOUGLAS: Oh, Martin, you didn’t fall for that, did you? Can’t you see she’s just trying to sell her debt
on? She knows I’ll steal it because I always do. She just wants to recoup some of her loss off you.
MARTIN: Yes, but what if I stop you stealing it?
DOUGLAS: Yes. That would certainly work out very well for you. There are just two small but – I fear –
insurmountable problems with the scheme: I am me; and you are you. And I can outwit you with my wits
tied behind my back.
MARTIN: Oh, is that so?
DOUGLAS: It is so.
MARTIN: Well I’m not so sure.
DOUGLAS: I am so sure.
MARTIN: Stop doing that!
DOUGLAS: But I will steal it, and when I do and you come to me moaning about how you have to pay
Carolyn a hundred pounds and you can’t afford it, my reply will rhyme with, “I bold you go.”
MR. BIRLING (from outside): Well? Do I have to open the door for myself?
CAROLYN (opening the door): Mr. Birling. I do apologise. We didn’t hear you knock.
MR. BIRLING: Didn’t knock. Shouted. Hello.
MARTIN (grovelling): Mr. Birling. How nice to see you.
DOUGLAS: Welcome back, sir.
MR. BIRLING: Ah, my dear boys, there you are. Ready once more to help me slip the surly bounds of
Earth, put out my hand and punch the face of God?
DOUGLAS: I think it’s ‘touch the face of God’.
MR. BIRLING: No, no, I didn’t like the sound of that at all. Icky.
CAROLYN: Well, I don’t suppose God would be overjoyed at the prospect, either.
MR. BIRLING: Oh, are you still here? I didn’t see you last time. I thought perhaps you’d died.
CAROLYN: No. I am still here.
MR. BIRLING: Fancy that.
(Mrs Birling comes into the office.)
MRS BIRLING: Birling! You can’t just park with my door jammed against a wall and leave me there!
MR. BIRLING: Can. Did. Elizabeth, these are the joke pilots I was telling you about. Captain, First Mate,
Cabin Boy.
MARTIN (laughing awkwardly): Um, actually I’m the captain.
MR. BIRLING: He always says that. I don’t know why. Pilots, this is Elizabeth, my awful wife. She’s
come to see me off.
MARTIN: Oh, hello. Um, I’m sure she’s not awful.
MR. BIRLING: Well, I’ll tell you what, my dear boy: you marry her for thirty years and then we’ll compare
notes.
MRS BIRLING: Hello, yes. Nice to meet you and so forth, etcetera. Anyway, here’s fifty pounds each.
DOUGLAS: Oh, thank you! I must say, the early evidence is weighing heavily in favour of your not being
awful.
MRS BIRLING: Those are your tips. You’re having them now, and that’s all you’re getting. Mr. Birling and
I have talked about those extravagant tips he used to give and we’ve mutually decided they should stop,
haven’t we, Birling?
MR. BIRLING: No.
MRS BIRLING: Do you want to see your stupid rugby in stupid Paris?
MR. BIRLING: Rugby isn’t stupid. Paris, I grant you, is moronic.
MRS BIRLING: What have we decided, then?
MR. BIRLING (sulkily): No tips.
MRS BIRLING: That’s right.
MR. BIRLING: She’s an awful woman, she really is. I hate her more than I can say.
MRS BIRLING: Right, off you go, then, Birling, and have a mildly pleasant time. Any more than that and
you’re in trouble.
MR. BIRLING: Goodbye, dear. Take care while I’m gone. Don’t jump into any mineshafts.

ARTHUR: This way, Mr. Birling.

MR. BIRLING: What, into the aeroplane through the door of the aeroplane? You astonish me.
ARTHUR: Ask me another one!
MR. BIRLING: Who won the Triple Crown in seventy-seven?
ARTHUR: Ah, trick question. I don’t know.
CAROLYN: Umm, drivers? Before you get on board, if you’d care to step this way.
DOUGLAS: Yes, Carolyn?
CAROLYN: Phil from the fire crew is standing by for the traditional Birling Day frisking of the first officer.
PHIL (patting Douglas down): Sorry, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Is this really necessary, Carolyn, now you have Crieff of the Yard dogging my every move?
CAROLYN: No sense in taking chances. All right, Phil, what have we got?
PHIL: Er, on his person, nothing. In his flight bag, one large plastic bottle of apple juice.
CAROLYN: Oh, Douglas. Is this the best you can do?
DOUGLAS: What? I like apple juice.
CAROLYN: Well, you’re going to have to do without it this time. Phil, throw it away.
(Phil tosses the bottle in the bin.)
DOUGLAS: I need that!
CAROLYN: Anything else, Phil?
PHIL (opening zipped pockets in the bag): Um, one small bottle of nail varnish.
CAROLYN: What, again? Ah, that’s sweet. Did you really think I’d let you pull the same trick twice? You
see, Douglas likes to use a dab of nail varnish to re-seal the caps of the bottles he’s tampered with. Well,
much good it may do you, Douglas, because this time there is just one bottle and I am opening it now.
(‘Crack’ of the bottle lid being opened and then unscrewed.)
CAROLYN: Now, let’s see.
(She takes a sip.)
CAROLYN: Ooh. Mmmm! That is good stuff! Thank you, Phil. Dismissed. Oh, Martin: I am now placing
the whiskey in your hands – both literally and metaphorically. Stop Douglas getting hold of it for the next
six hours and you’ve won a hundred quid.
MARTIN: All right. Douglas, don’t come anywhere near me. Get into the plane and go into the flight
deck.
DOUGLAS: You really don’t have to hug the bottle like that, Martin.
MARTIN: Just do it, please.
DOUGLAS: All right. Goodbye, Carolyn.
CAROLYN: Goodbye, Douglas. Good luck, Martin – and may God have mercy on your soul.
MARTIN: All right. Now, into the flight deck.
DOUGLAS: I’m going, I’m going.
MARTIN: Close the door.
(Flight deck door closes.)
MARTIN: Good. Arthur!
ARTHUR: Hello, Skip!
MARTIN: Here is Mr. Birling’s special whiskey. Now, I am not going to let Douglas out of the flight deck
between now and Paris but, if he should escape somehow, he is not allowed to touch, hold, borrow,
taste, look at or-or do anything at all with this whiskey, have you got that?
ARTHUR: Got it.
MARTIN: So, what isn’t Douglas allowed to go near?
ARTHUR: The whiskey.
MARTIN: Who isn’t allowed to go near the whiskey?
ARTHUR: Douglas.
MARTIN: What isn’t Douglas allowed to do to the whiskey?
ARTHUR: Anything.
MARTIN: You really have got it!
ARTHUR: I’ve got it! I’m not stupid!
MARTIN: Who isn’t allowed to do what to what?
ARTHUR: I’m not allowed to drive Mum’s car.
MARTIN: What?!
ARTHUR: Sorry, Skip, that’s an earlier one. Um, Douglas isn’t allowed to go near the whiskey.
MARTIN: Good. Here it is.

DOUGLAS: Post take-off checks complete.

MARTIN: Thank you.
DOUGLAS: So. You’ve left the whiskey with Arthur, have you?
MARTIN: None of your business.
DOUGLAS: Bit risky, isn’t it? I’ve have thought you’d have wanted to hang on to it yourself.
MARTIN: No, actually. If it was here, you could manufacture some emergency to distract me while you
swiped it and I’d have to deal with it, but whatever happens, I can make absolutely certain you don’t
leave the flight deck ’til we land again.
DOUGLAS: Mmm! Well played!
MARTIN: Thank you.
DOUGLAS: Well, I’m just going to the loo.
MARTIN: Oh no you’re not!
DOUGLAS: I rather think I am.
MARTIN: No! I forbid it!
DOUGLAS: You forbid it?
MARTIN: Yes.
DOUGLAS: Sorry, er, just to be clear: you are forbidding me from using the toilet, Captain?
MARTIN: You don’t need to go!
DOUGLAS: I do!
MARTIN: Well, you’ll just have to hold it in for an hour, won’t you?
DOUGLAS: Can’t do that. Terribly bad for you.
MARTIN: Right, fine. (Into intercom) Arthur, could you bring the Talisker to the flight deck, please?
ARTHUR (over intercom): Okay!
MARTIN: Douglas, put your hands on your head.
DOUGLAS: Put my what on my what?!
MARTIN: Oh, you heard me!
DOUGLAS: I’m not putting my hands on my head!
MARTIN: You put your hands on your head or you don’t go to the loo.
DOUGLAS: Fine.
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: All right, Skip, I …
MARTIN (panic-stricken): Arthur, give it to me, give it to me! Don’t get near Douglas with it! Give it to me!
Give it straight to me! Thank you.
ARTHUR: You all right, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Fine, thank you.
ARTHUR: Only you look like you’ve got a headache, or you’ve just discovered you’ve lost your hat.
MARTIN: Douglas, you may go to the loo.
DOUGLAS: I don’t need to go any more.
MARTIN: Oh, what a surprise(!) Go anyway. I don’t want you pulling this again in ten minutes.
DOUGLAS: Your wish is my command.
(Flight deck door closes.)
ARTHUR: I think you’re doing this brilliantly, Skip.
MARTIN: Thank you.
ARTHUR: I don’t know how he’s gonna steal it this time.
MARTIN: He’s not going to steal it this time.
ARTHUR: No, no, probably not. Although he is really sneaky.
MARTIN: I don’t care how sneaky he is, Arthur. If I simply never let him touch the bottle, he can’t steal it.
(The intercom beeps.)
MR. BIRLING (over intercom): Hello? How does this thing work?
MARTIN: Oh! (He laughs falsely.) Mr. Birling! Are you all right?
MR. BIRLING: No. I’ve been dinging on my Summon-an-Idiot bell for ages. And yet have I an idiot to
show for my trouble? I have not!
ARTHUR: Just coming, Mr. B.!
MR. BIRLING: Good. And bring me my whiskey.
ARTHUR: Right-o!
(Intercom switches off again.)
ARTHUR: Okay, Skip, if I could have …
MARTIN: Arthur, what were we just saying?
ARTHUR: Oh, loads of stuff.
MARTIN: I’m not letting go of this bottle until Douglas is sitting back in his chair.
ARTHUR: Okay.
(The sat comm bleeps.)
MARTIN: Hello? MJN Air.
CAROLYN (over sat comm): Has he got it yet?
MARTIN: No, he hasn’t, and I resent the “yet”. He’s not gonna get it at all.
CAROLYN: Have you got it yet, Douglas?
MARTIN: He’s not in the flight deck at the moment.
CAROLYN: Oh, fair enough. He’s a busy man. He’ll be stealing the whiskey.
MARTIN: No, actually, the whiskey is with me. I can do this, Carolyn. I am capable of …
(Flight deck door opens.)
MARTIN: … Ah. Er, bye, Carolyn.
(Sat comm off.)
MARTIN: Hands on your head. Hands on your head!
DOUGLAS: Martin, please …
MARTIN (hysterically): Hands on your head! (More calmly) Thank you. Now, sit down, back
down, slowly. Good, thank you. Arthur, here is the whiskey. You may now go and serve Mr. Birling.
ARTHUR: Thanks, Skip!
(Flight deck door closes.)
DOUGLAS: Are you really going to keep this up for the whole trip?
MARTIN: Yes, I am. And when – by the end of it – you haven’t managed to steal, I’m going to say
something that rhymes with “You … bidn’t … gell … nee … cat …” er …
DOUGLAS: Are you all right?
MARTIN: “You didn’t tell me that, did you?” Oh, it worked in my head!

(Mr. Birling is alternately ringing the service bell and calling out.)
MR. BIRLING: (Ding) Ding! (Ding) Ding! (Ding) Ding! (Ding) Ding!
ARTHUR: Hello, Mr. B.
MR. BIRLING: A-ha! Where have you been? I’ve been both ringing my bell and shouting the word “Ding”
since approximately the late Middle Ages.
ARTHUR: Sorry. Skip was just …
MR. BIRLING: I don’t wanna hear your “Sorry Skip was justs”. Now, pour me my Talisker.
ARTHUR (pouring a glassful): Here you are.
MR. BIRLING: Uh. At last.
(He takes a gulp, then chokes.)
MR. BIRLING: That’s not Talisker! That’s horrible!
ARTHUR: Wow!
MR. BIRLING: What do you mean, “Wow”?
ARTHUR: Nothing. It’s just … I think the first officer might be magic!

MARTIN (bursting into the flight deck): Right! How did you do it?
DOUGLAS: Everything tickety-boo, Martin?
MARTIN: How did you do it? How could you possibly have done it?
DOUGLAS: Done what?
MARTIN: Stolen Mr. Birling’s whiskey – how?
DOUGLAS: What are you talking about? I haven’t.
MARTIN: Oh, don’t give me that! Okay, you won! I’ll have to pay Carolyn. Now just tell me: how did you
do it?
DOUGLAS (sounding genuinely surprised): Are you telling me the whiskey’s gone?
MARTIN: Yes, it’s gone! Because you took it! But how?
DOUGLAS: I didn’t.
MARTIN: Well, of course you did! You’ve been saying you’re gonna take it all flight!
DOUGLAS: Yes, and so I am, but I haven’t yet. I haven’t had a chance.
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: Just tell me what happened.
MARTIN: Mr. Birling asked for his whiskey; Arthur poured it out; it wasn’t Talisker.
DOUGLAS: It was apple juice?
MARTIN: No, it was cheap horrible whiskey.
DOUGLAS: Right. Because when I do it, it’ll be apple juice.
MARTIN: Philip took away your apple juice.
DOUGLAS: My decoy apple juice, certainly.
MARTIN: A-a-a-a-are you seriously saying it wasn’t you?
DOUGLAS: Hand on heart, it absolutely wasn’t … Oh, hang on. Very clever.
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: No, really, I’m very impressed. Carolyn’s idea, I take it – or did you actually come up with it
yourself?
MARTIN: What are you talking about?
DOUGLAS: You’ve quite obviously taken it and hidden it so I can’t steal it and you can return it to
Carolyn.
MARTIN: I … of course I didn’t take it! You took it!
DOUGLAS: No I didn’t. You took it.
MARTIN: No, you took it!
(The sat comm bleeps.)
MARTIN: Oh God.
(The sat comm bleeps again.)
MARTIN (clearing his throat as he answers): Hello, Carolyn.
CAROLYN: So. Has he taken it yet?
MARTIN: I … don’t … know.
CAROLYN: You don’t know? How can you not know? Apply this simple test: do you have with you (a) a
bottle of fine whiskey, or (b) a first officer with a grin like a cat who’s learned to use a tin opener?
MARTIN: I meant no, he-he-he hasn’t stolen it. It’s fine. It’s all fine.
CAROLYN: Oh Lord. He’s stolen it. How could you let this happen, Martin? I give you one simple job …
MARTIN (hurriedly): Sorry, Carolyn, got to go, we’re just flying over a … a mountain.
CAROLYN: In the English Channel?
MARTIN: Bye!
(Sat comm off.)
MARTIN (panic-stricken): All right, I can sort this out, I can sort this out.
(He turns the intercom on, taking in a deep breath as he does.)
MARTIN (into intercom): ARTHUR! Could you come in here, please?
ARTHUR (over intercom): Right-o!
DOUGLAS: Ah, calling in the finest brains to work on the problem.
MARTIN: A plane is a sealed unit. It must be on here somewhere. I just need to think – I just need to
think.
(The flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Hi, chaps.
MARTIN: Arthur, describe to me exactly what happened when you left the flight deck.
ARTHUR: Okay. Wow, this is brilliant.
MARTIN: It’s not brilliant!
ARTHUR: It’s a bit brilliant. Can I tell you in my own words?
DOUGLAS: Who else’s words had you planned to use? Winston Churchill’s?
ARTHUR: No, but they always say, “Tell us in your own words the events of the night in question.”
MARTIN: Just tell us!
ARTHUR: All right. In my own words, I came into the galley with the bottle you gave me.
MARTIN: Yes.
ARTHUR: I got a glass, and I went in to Mr. Birling …
MARTIN: Yes.
ARTHUR: He had a bit of a shout; I had a bit of a listen …
MARTIN (impatiently): Yes.
ARTHUR: I poured him a glass of whiskey; he tasted it, said it was horrible. I called for you; you came;
you did that funny thing with your throat …
DOUGLAS: What funny thing?
ARTHUR: Oh, you know, the sort of … (he makes a high-pitched panicked whining sound).
MARTIN: All right, that’ll do! Thank you, Arthur.
DOUGLAS: Has that revealed the vital clue, Inspector?
MARTIN: Shush, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Just trying to help.
MARTIN: You can’t help. You’re the suspect – and also the person who did it!
DOUGLAS: I really didn’t, Martin. You made it impossible. And if I had, don’t you think I’d be gloating by
now?
MARTIN: Well … yes. But who else could it be?
DOUGLAS: Well, if you’re sure it wasn’t you, then I suppose there’s only one person it could be.
MARTIN: Well … but why would Mr. Birling steal his own whiskey?
DOUGLAS: I couldn’t say, Martin. Perhaps you should investigate.
ARTHUR: Ooh! Can I come too?
MARTIN: No.
ARTHUR: I won’t say anything. I’ll just be really excited!

MARTIN: Mr. Birling.

MR. BIRLING: Ah. Have you found it?
MARTIN: Not just yet.
MR. BIRLING: Well, then, find it. Has it occurred to you that Douglas might have taken it? He steals
things, doesn’t he, and I don’t like his face. Mind you, I don’t like your face. Worst thing about MJN: very
ugly pilots.
MARTIN: Mr. Birling, um, I just have a few questions for you. Quite routine. Nothing to worry about.
MR. BIRLING: Why would I be worried?
MARTIN: No reason. You shouldn’t be. (He laughs falsely.)
MR. BIRLING: I’m not worried – I’m furious. Is that what you meant? “Nothing to be furious about”?
Because if so, you couldn’t be more wrong. And what do you mean, “quite routine”? How many mid-air
whiskey thefts do you deal with?
ARTHUR: About one a year.
MARTIN: Shut up, Arthur! Mr. Birling, please tell me exactly what happened.
ARTHUR: In my own words.
MARTIN: In his own words … in your own words.
MR. BIRLING: I dinged my bell for about a week, then idiot-features here poured me my special
whiskey, then I tasted it and it was foul, and then I was furious, and now I still am.
MARTIN: I see. Now, um, j-j-just for the sake of argument, um, if you had stolen the whiskey yourself …
MR. BIRLING (angrily): Me?! Are you a total imbecile? It’s my whiskey! I don’t have to steal it – it’s mine!
If I stole it, it wouldn’t be stealing, it would be having! And if I had it, I would have it!
(Flight deck door opens.)
DOUGLAS: Any progress?
MARTIN: I don’t think he has it.
DOUGLAS: How can you tell?
MARTIN: Pretty certain. But, um, it’s just impossible. He didn’t take it; I didn’t take it; you couldn’t have
taken it, and there’s no-one else except Arthur, so how … Oh!
DOUGLAS: You’re not thinking …
MARTIN: Well, I know it seems crazy, but …
DOUGLAS: Arthur?!
MARTIN: I know! But the thing is, we’ve taken away all the things that can possibly have happened, so I
suppose the only thing that’s left, even though it seems really weird, must be the thing that did happen,
in fact.
DOUGLAS: Snappily put.

(The galley curtain rattles.)

MARTIN: Arthur.
ARTHUR: Ooh, hello, Skip! I’ve got a theory! Now, suppose there was a travelling circus going by the
airport, and one of the monkeys …
MARTIN: Let me stop you there, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Yes?
MARTIN: I’m not angry.
ARTHUR: Oh, good. Nor am I.
MARTIN: Good. Um, but I-I-I think you should tell me what happened when you spilled Mr. Birling’s
Talisker.
ARTHUR: What?
MARTIN: That is what happened, isn’t it? When I left you to go to the flight deck, I’d taken care to
impress you with how very valuable and important the whiskey was, so when you dropped it and the
bottle unsealed by Carolyn spilled everywhere, you panicked, and in horror you tried to cover up the
accident by refilling it with cheap and nasty whiskey from the drinks cupboard – didn’t you?
ARTHUR: Skip, you’re absolutely … brilliant.
MARTIN: Huh!
ARTHUR: How did you work it all out? You’re like … Miss Marple!
MARTIN: So that is what happened?
ARTHUR: No! But it’s a brilliant solution!
MARTIN: What? You-you didn’t spill it?
ARTHUR: No. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die, terrapins tickle me if I lie.
MARTIN: Well, someone did, Arthur, and if it wasn’t me or Douglas or Mr. Birling or you, then who was
it?
ARTHUR: Well, this is where the monkey comes in. You see, the clowns like to get it drunk on whiskey
for fun …
MARTIN: No, it wasn’t a monkey, Arthur!
ARTHUR: Well, you have your theories; I have mine.
MARTIN: There’s Phil from the fire crew, I suppose, but he never touched the whiskey, only the apple
juice he took off … Oh!
ARTHUR: What?
MARTIN: Well, of course! Now I see exactly how he did it!
ARTHUR: Do you? Brilliant! This is what always happens to Miss Marple as well! Was it the very last
person we would suspect?
MARTIN: No, it was Douglas.
ARTHUR: Oh. He’s the very first person we would suspect.
MARTIN: Yes! And he did it, even though it looks impossible.
ARTHUR: Okay. I’m just saying – he’s not who Miss Marple would have picked.
MARTIN: Well I’m not Miss Marple!
ARTHUR: No.

(Flight deck door opens.)

MARTIN: Ah. Hello, Douglas.
ARTHUR: Yes. Hello, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Hello. How goes the crime fighting?
ARTHUR: Douglas, you may be wondering why we’ve asked you all to gather together.
DOUGLAS: I wasn’t aware you had asked me all to gather together.
MARTIN: Thank you, Arthur. Leave it to me. Douglas, I know what happened.
DOUGLAS: Oh. Sorry, Arthur, I did try and put him on the wrong trail with Mr. Birling, but I suppose he
was always gonna work it out eventually.
MARTIN: Work what out?
DOUGLAS: Well, I assume Arthur accidentally spilled the whiskey and refilled it with cheap stuff, hoping
no-one would notice.
MARTIN: No, actually, I thought of that, and he didn’t.
DOUGLAS: How d’you know?
MARTIN: He says he didn’t.
DOUGLAS: Oh, right.
MARTIN: And he’s Arthur. He can’t tell lies. His face goes a funny colour and if he’s not sitting down, he
falls over.
ARTHUR: And sometimes even if I am sitting down.
DOUGLAS: Well, that is true.
MARTIN: Also, I know it wasn’t him because it was you. And I know exactly how you did it.
DOUGLAS: Well, you don’t, because I didn’t.
MARTIN: I do, because you did. It was the apple juice! You know you’re always searched on Birling Day.
Why would you bring a bottle of apple juice in your flight bag unless having it taken away was exactly
what you wanted because it wasn’t apple juice at all – it was the stolen Talisker! It was never taken off
the plane because it was never on it! Before I even saw it, you’d got at the bottle, filled it with cheap
whiskey, re-sealed it with that nail varnish, put the real whiskey in the plastic bottle so that Phil – who
must be in on it with you – could claim it was apple juice and take it off you to return it to you later!
(Douglas applauds sarcastically.)
DOUGLAS: Very clever, Martin. Very clever indeed. I see I under-estimated you.
ARTHUR: And me.
DOUGLAS: No, not you.
MARTIN: So you admit it, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Uh, no, because you’ve forgotten Carolyn tasted the whiskey just before she gave it to you
and said it was definitely Talisker. Sorry.
MARTIN: Oh. Yes.
DOUGLAS: So I’d have to have been in league with Carolyn, not Phil, but what would either of us have
to gain from … Ah-ha!
MARTIN: What? What?
DOUGLAS: Of course!
ARTHUR: Oh, wow! Now Douglas is like Miss Marple!
MARTIN: No, I’m Miss Marple!
DOUGLAS: Martin, it wasn’t me, or you, or Arthur, or Mr. Birling who stole Carolyn’s whiskey. It was
Carolyn!
MARTIN: What?
ARTHUR: Douglas is definitely Miss Marple. That’s who Miss Marple would have picked.
DOUGLAS: Or rather, she didn’t, because there was never any whiskey to steal. Look: Carolyn knows
that every year I steal the whiskey. Suddenly, she realises: if Mr. Birling’s not going to get the whiskey,
why bother providing it? If she simply refills an old Talisker bottle with cheap whiskey and then re-seals it
with the nail varnish trick I taught her, she can open it in front of us, tell us it’s the real thing and then,
when Mr. Birling finds out it’s not, everyone will blame me and she’ll save herself two hundred pounds.
MARTIN: Oh!
DOUGLAS: And then, she thinks, why not actually make some money into the bargain? If she can
convince you to accept the deal, then, whether I steal it or not, she can sting you for a hundred quid.
MARTIN: No! She wouldn’t do that!
DOUGLAS: I’m afraid so. You’re the mark, Martin; the cat’s-paw, the schmuck, the fall guy. You’ve been
played like a cheap pianola.
MARTIN: I don’t believe it! What can I do?
DOUGLAS: Ain’t nothin’ you can do – that’s Chinatown.
MARTIN: Right, give me the sat comm.
DOUGLAS: What for?
MARTIN: I’m gonna tell her exactly what I think of her.
DOUGLAS: Yes, you could do – or …
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: Well, it’s just occurred to me: maybe there is something you can do. Maybe
this isn’t Chinatown.
ARTHUR: You see, I didn’t think it was when you said that.
MARTIN: What do you mean?
DOUGLAS: Well, if you accuse her, she’ll just deny all knowledge of it and – her being her – you’ll end
up having to pay. But if you tell her that Mr. Birling enjoyed his Talisker very much and finished it all up,
she’ll know you’re lying but she can’t say so without giving the game away.
MARTIN: Yes! Thank you, Douglas! That’s perfect!
(Sat comm on.)
CAROLYN: Hello? MJN.
MARTIN (smarmily): Hello, Carolyn, Martin here.
CAROLYN: Ah, over the mountain now? Good. So, he nicked it, did he?
MARTIN: No, no, he didn’t.
CAROLYN: I bet he did.
MARTIN: By no means. I’ve just been in to see Mr. Birling. He says to tell you how particularly nice the
whiskey is this year.
CAROLYN: Well! that’s interesting.
MARTIN: Are you surprised for some reason?
CAROLYN: I’m certainly surprised he got it.
MARTIN: Are you?
CAROLYN: And that Douglas didn’t.
MARTIN: No-no, Douglas definitely didn’t, did you, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Alas, no. You were too clever for me, Carolyn. Rats.
CAROLYN: Well! Well done, then, Martin. You’ve earned your reward. Clever old you.
MARTIN: Thank you!
(Sat comm off.)
DOUGLAS: Well played, Martin.
MARTIN: Thank you. And thank you for helping me out.
DOUGLAS: Oh, it was nothing.
(Flight deck door opens.)
MR. BIRLING: Ah, hello. I’ve remembered my cufflinks.
MARTIN: Mr. Birling, you’re not really supposed to come up here.
MR. BIRLING: Well, this is where you are and I need to speak to you – regarding my cufflinks.
DOUGLAS: What about your cufflinks?
MR. BIRLING: I’ve just remembered them. Pearls, dear boy – two beautiful pearls. A present from my
awful wife before she was awful.
DOUGLAS: Oh!
MR. BIRLING: Yes. You see, she took away my money, she took away my cards, but she didn’t take
away my lovely pearl cufflinks.
MARTIN: Well, maybe she just assumed you’d never part with them.
MR. BIRLING: Then more fool her, because that’s just what I’m going to do. They’re worth a grand each,
boys, easily, and I’ll give you one apiece if you should happen to discover that you do, after all, have a
bottle of Talisker which can come and watch the rugby with me for a bit until one of us ends up drunk …
by the other.
MARTIN: I’m sorry, Mr. Birling, but we really honestly don’t …
MR. BIRLING: I’m talking to the organ grinder, not the monkey.
MARTIN: I’m the organ grinder.
DOUGLAS: Are you sure, Martin? The monkey tends to have the better hat.
MARTIN: I am the organ grinder! And I have to tell you, Mr. Birling, that there is no Talisker. We’ve all
been the victims of a clever plot by Carolyn. Let me tell you the whole story. Carolyn knew that every
year …
DOUGLAS (interrupting): Er, Martin, sorry to interrupt, but, um … here you are, Mr. Birling.
(Clink of a large bottle of alcohol.)
MARTIN: What?!
MR. BIRLING: A-ha! I thought as much!
(He takes a swig.)
MR. BIRLING: Mmm! Yes! Mmm! That’s the stuff! Here you are, you grubby little thief. Here you are, you
clueless patsy. A pearl apiece. See you in two hours, full of rugby, song, and fine whiskey.
(Flight deck door closes.)
MARTIN (faint, breathless): You … you stole … the whiskey.
DOUGLAS (mildly): Of course I did. I did tell you I would.
MARTIN: You were in on it with Carolyn?
DOUGLAS: No! She had nothing to do with it. It was Talisker when she tasted it. I just fed you that story
to make you tell her I didn’t steal it, but I did.
MARTIN: How?!
DOUGLAS: With this.
MARTIN: The bottle of nail varnish?!
DOUGLAS: Ah, but it’s not nail varnish. It just comes in a similar bottle which I’ve re-labelled. What it is
is a harmless but unpleasantly bitter-tasting clear substance you can buy from any chemist to put on
your nails to stop you biting them. Of course, if you don’t suffer that particular vice, there are other things
you can do with it. For instance, when you go through the galley on the way to the loo, you can put a tiny
drop on the bottom of each of the whiskey glasses – just enough that any liquid poured into them
becomes unpleasant tasting. Then, once Mr. Birling has rejected his glass of genuine Talisker as horrible
and the bottle is written off as full of cheap whiskey and forgotten about, you can snaffle it at your
leisure.
MARTIN (groaning): Oh, no. Uh, well done. Very clever. Just a shame it’s gonna cost me a hundred
quid, that’s all.
DOUGLAS: Sorry, Martin. I hate to say, “I fold you crow,” but “I sold you dough.”
ARTHUR: But Douglas, there’s one thing I still don’t understand.
DOUGLAS: What’s that, Arthur?
ARTHUR: How did you do it?

SEASON 3 – EPISODE 3: Newcastle

(Portacabin office door opens.)
CAROLYN: Boys, we’ve just picked up an extra job. There shall be buns for tea. Where’s Martin?
DOUGLAS: He’s not in yet.
ARTHUR: What’s the job, Mum?
CAROLYN: For Air Caledonian … (in a Scottish accent) … the wee Scottish airline. (Normal voice) One
of their pilots has gone sick in Newcastle. They want us to fly out the covering crew. I do like flying other
pilots! You don’t have to hold back with them.
DOUGLAS: Do you do much holding back with the passengers normally, then?
CAROLYN: Of course I do!
DOUGLAS: Good lord.
ARTHUR: Mum, we’ve only got two pilots. What would we do if one of them went sick?
CAROLYN: They wouldn’t dare.
ARTHUR: But what if they did?
CAROLYN: Then I’m sure we’d think of something.
(Portacabin door opens.)
CAROLYN: Ah, there you are, Martin.
MARTIN (sounding very different because Benedict Cumberbatch was sick and so Tom Goodman-Hill
stood in as Martin): Hullo, Carolyn. What have I missed?
ARTHUR: Hi, Skip! You’re looking very well.
MARTIN: Oh. Thank you, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Don’t you think, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Not specially. I think he looks exactly the same as always.

This week, Newcastle!

(Office door opens. A printer is running.)

DOUGLAS: Hullo, Martin. Are the pilots here yet?
MARTIN: We’re the pilots, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Yes, but the proper pilots.
MARTIN: Not yet, no.
(The printer finishes running.)
DOUGLAS: Ah, is that the flight plan?
MARTIN: No, it’s mine. Leave it.
DOUGLAS: Oh, Martin. Please don’t tell me you’ve written a slim volume of verse!
(He picks up the printed paper.)
DOUGLAS: Oh. A c.v.
MARTIN: Umm …
DOUGLAS: Goodness. Feeling the call of the Highlands, are we? Fancy ourselves in tartan epaulettes
and a flying kilt?
MARTIN: There’s nothing wrong with trying to advance one’s career.
DOUGLAS: Not at all! So, what’s the plan? Fly them to Newcastle with such panache and élan that the
captain feels compelled to recommend you to their Chief McPilot?
MARTIN: Look, I know it’s a long shot, but if the captain and I should happen to hit it off, you never
know.
DOUGLAS: You never do. What flight time do you have from Fitton to Newcastle?
MARTIN: Twenty-five minutes.
DOUGLAS: Hmm. Let’s hope he’s the sort who makes friends quickly.
CAROLYN (coming in): All right, look sharp. The pilots are here.
MARTIN: We are the pilots.
CAROLYN: I mean the proper pilots.
MARTIN (angrily): Could everyone please stop calling them that?!
(Portacabin door opens.)
HERC (well-spoken English accent): Good morning. MJN Air?
DOUGLAS: Herc!
HERC: Douglas!
(They promptly simultaneously go into what sounds like an old rugby or drinking chant.)
MARTIN: Oh, terrific(!)
HERC: How the devil are you? Not seen you since … well, well, for a long time. But haven’t you done
well for yourself? I see from your uniform you’ve become a Bolivian tank commander.
DOUGLAS: Yes, it’s an exuberant little number, isn’t it? And you’re a Scotsman now, are you?
HERC: Ah, you don’t have to be Scottish to fly for a Scottish airline, you know?
DOUGLAS: Don’t you? That’s interesting, isn’t it, Martin? Oh, Martin, this is Captain Herc Shipwright –
old friend of mine from Air England.
MARTIN: Yes, I thought he might be.
HERC: Martin, pleasure. Hope this lazy old sod doesn’t work you too hard.
MARTIN (tightly): Not really, no. I’m the captain.
HERC: Oh, gosh, so you are. Terribly sorry. So, Douglas, does that mean you’re …
DOUGLAS (talking over him): And this is Carolyn.
HERC: Charmed. Herc.
CAROLYN: “Herc”?
HERC: That’s it, yes, yes. Short for “Hercules”. Dad was rather eccentric. After the aircraft, though,
rather than the hero. I find I never know if that makes it better or worse.
CAROLYN: Do you have any brothers?
HERC: Wellington and Harrier.
CAROLYN: Sisters?
HERC: Sarah. He was eccentric, not mad. You’re the cabin crew, then, I take it.
CAROLYN: I am the owner and the CEO.
HERC: Oh gosh, are you? Well done!
CAROLYN: What do you mean, “Well done”?
HERC: I don’t know. Nothing, really.
CAROLYN: “Well done for running a big scary company all by yourself, you clever little lady”?
HERC: No, no, absolutely not. No, just a general … you know … “good for you”.
CAROLYN: I see. So you’d still have said “Well done” if I’d been an ugly middle-aged man in a suit,
would you?
HERC: The thought is inconceivable. So, it’s you I do the forms and what-not with, is it?
CAROLYN: Yes. So please step into my office from where I administrate my airline.
HERC: Right you are. Ah, here’s my first officer.
(Portacabin door opens.)
HERC: I thought I’d lost you. Chaps, this is Linda Fairbairn. Linda, these are some chaps.
LINDA (Scottish accent): Hello.
MARTIN: Oh!
HERC: Back in a tick.
(Carolyn’s office door closes.)
LINDA: “Oh”?
MARTIN: Oh – how lovely to see you.
LINDA: Have we met before?
MARTIN: I don’t think so, no. People haven’t usually met me before.
LINDA: Sorry?
MARTIN: I mean, they’ve-they’ve normally met Douglas before if they’ve met anyone. I mean, obviously
the people who’ve met me before have met me before, but there aren’t many of those because I-I
haven’t … met … most people.
DOUGLAS: Douglas Richardson. How lovely to meet you.
LINDA: And you. Oh, is that your plane out there?
DOUGLAS: That rather swish Gulfstream? Alas, no. You see the forlorn object facing it and thereby
providing it with a rather grim memento mori? That’s GERTI.
LINDA: Yes, that’s what I meant. The Lockheed McDonnell 312.
MARTIN: Oh! Yes, that’s it!
LINDA: Fantastic! I didn’t realise there were any of those still flying.
MARTIN: Well, there aren’t many.
DOUGLAS: And those there are barely do.
MARTIN: That’s very impressive, though. Not many people know what it is.
DOUGLAS: Most people have to stop and think before saying, “Aeroplane.”
LINDA: Well, I was a big plane spotter when I was a girl, so …
MARTIN: Really?! Me too!
LINDA: What, when you were a girl?(!)
MARTIN: What? No, no. Oh … (He giggles inanely.) Yes, when I was a girl. No – when I was a boy. I-I
was never a girl.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Good. To be absolutely clear.

(Flight deck door opens)

ARTHUR: Okay, chaps. Cabin cross-checked and ready for take-off.
MARTIN: Thank you, Arthur – and how’s Captain Shipwright looking? Happy? Relaxed?
ARTHUR: I wouldn’t say ‘relaxed’.
MARTIN: Oh? Why not?
ARTHUR: Well, he’s talking to Mum.
MARTIN: Why’s she still on board? I can’t ask him for a job with her sitting there. Tell her to get off the
plane.
ARTHUR: Tell her to?
MARTIN: Yes!
ARTHUR: Mum?
MARTIN: Yes! How hard can it be?
ARTHUR: It can be impossible.
MARTIN: Go!
(Flight deck door closes.)
DOUGLAS: You’re sure it’s Herc you want to speak to?
MARTIN: What do you mean?
DOUGLAS: Not First Officer Linda, the plane-spotting pride of Penicuik?
MARTIN: Well, she can’t recommend me, can she? She’s only my age; she’s hardly going to know the
Chief Pilot.
DOUGLAS: She is about your age, yes, and rather nice, I thought.
MARTIN: Why, d’you think … d’you think she …
DOUGLAS: So, by the time we land in Newcastle, you’d ideally like a job recommendation from one of
our passengers and a date from the other.
MARTIN: That’s not really feasible, is it?
DOUGLAS: It’s an ambitious programme, certainly.

HERC: All right, I admit it: I said, “Good for you,” because you’re a woman.
CAROLYN: Ha!
HERC: Because you’re clearly doing a fine job in what is, unfortunately, a male-dominated profession.
CAROLYN: Well now you’re changing the terms of the argument.
HERC: Yes, I am.
CAROLYN: And you’re still wrong.
ARTHUR: Er, Mum? Captain says to tell you we’re leaving now.
CAROLYN: Right. Thank you.
ARTHUR: Yes.
CAROLYN: Anything else?
ARTHUR: No, well, just, um, if you’re gonna get off, you should probably get off.
CAROLYN: I’m not going anywhere.
ARTHUR: Well, you sort of will, uh, because by not going anywhere, you will go to Newcastle, if you see
what I mean.
CAROLYN: All right, then, I’ll go to Newcastle.
ARTHUR: Yeah, fine. Um, only I think the skipper’s done the weight calculations based on five people
and …
CAROLYN: Arthur. If you are about to suggest my weight is going to make us too heavy to take off, very
bad things will happen to you.

DOUGLAS: Post take-off checks complete.

MARTIN: Thank you.
DOUGLAS: Which means today the pre-landing check’s pretty much about to start.
MARTIN: Right. Okay, I think I’ve decided. I’m going to concentrate on getting Herc alone and giving him
my c.v.
DOUGLAS: Awwww.
MARTIN: What? D’you think that’s the wrong decision?
DOUGLAS: No, I think it’s probably the right one. I’m just an old romantic.
(There’s a knock on the door.)
DOUGLAS: Come in.
(Flight deck door opens.)
LINDA: Hello, sorry to intrude. It’s … the conversation back there was getting a little heated.
MARTIN: Oh no, you’re welcome. It’s lovely to see you and very nice to … see you.
LINDA: Thank you, Martin.
MARTIN: So, Linda, you’re a pilot.
LINDA: Yes.
MARTIN: Yes, obviously. Sorry. That wasn’t a question. That was just a preliminary statement before the
actual question that I was going to ask, which is: how long have you been a pilot?
LINDA: Twelve years.
MARTIN: Twelve years, right. Twelve years. Well, that’s not a long time or a short time. Umm, do you
like it?
LINDA: What?
MARTIN: Being a pilot.
LINDA: Yes, I do. Do you?
MARTIN: Yes, I do. I like it, like you. I mean, I like it like you do, not I like it like I like you. I don’t like you.
I mean, I don’t not like you, I just, I don’t like you as much as I like being a pilot.
LINDA: Don’t you?
MARTIN: Well, not yet. I mean, I’m sure if I got to know you, I’d like you more than being … well,
probably not more than, because I love being a pilot and I don’t suppose I’d love you … well, I suppose
I might … no, I mean, I’m just gonna go and have a wander down the cabin now.
(He leaves the flight deck.)
LINDA: Is he always like that?
DOUGLAS: No. He’s not terribly good at talking to other pilots, I’m afraid.
LINDA: Oh. I thought it was because I was a woman.
DOUGLAS: And he’s atrocious at talking to women, so I’m afraid you represent something of a Perfect
Storm.

(Galley curtain is pulled back.)

MARTIN: Arthur!
ARTHUR: Oh, hello, Skip! Have you come to talk to me?
MARTIN: No.
ARTHUR: Okay.
MARTIN: I’ve come to talk to Captain Shipwright.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. Well, he’s just, uh, through there …
MARTIN: I know where he is, but he’s still talking to your mum. I want you to go and get her, bring her
back here.
ARTHUR: How?
MARTIN: Just tell her you need to speak to her in the galley.
ARTHUR: Why?
MARTIN: It doesn’t matter! Anything! Just make something up!
ARTHUR: Okay!

CAROLYN: … because the sexism inherent in the whole aviation industry is now so institutionalised, we
falsely imagine it must be justified – that’s why.
HERC: I know! That’s what I was saying, hence “Well done”!
CAROLYN: Yes!
ARTHUR: Er, could I have a word?
CAROLYN: Arthur, I am busy.
ARTHUR: Yeah, but there’s a problem in the galley. Can you come and have a look?
CAROLYN: Sort it out for yourself, Arthur. I wasn’t even supposed to be on this flight, remember?
ARTHUR: Yeah. Still, since you are here, I think it’s something you should take a look at.
CAROLYN: Well, what is it?
ARTHUR: It’s hard to describe. Come and have a look.
CAROLYN: Just tell me! You can say it in front of Herc – he’s not a real passenger.
ARTHUR: Right. Well. It’s … a fire.
HERC: A fire?
ARTHUR: Only a little fire.
MARTIN (hurrying over): Ah, hello, hello again, Herc. I don’t suppose it’s a fire, is it, Arthur?
HERC: He says it’s a fire.
MARTIN: No he doesn’t.
ARTHUR: No I don’t.
MARTIN: See?
ARTHUR: No, not a fire. I didn’t mean a fire.
MARTIN: Course he didn’t.
HERC: Well, what did you mean?
ARTHUR: Just … smoke.
MARTIN: No.
HERC: Smoke? Where from?
ARTHUR: I’m not sure.
MARTIN: From something you’ve cooked, probably. Explicable smoke from cooking.
ARTHUR: Yes, that’s right, yes.
CAROLYN: You’re not cooking anything, Arthur.
ARTHUR (desperately): I’m not cooking anything, Skip.
MARTIN: Right.
HERC: So, Captain, I imagine you’ll be wanting to land immediately.
MARTIN: Umm …
HERC: I mean, I’m not wanting to tell you your job, Captain, but obviously this counts as an emergency
and you need to land now.
MARTIN (unhappily): Yes I do.

(In an echoing hangar)

EDDIE (Birmingham accent): Right, then. Mornin’ all. Welcome to Birmingham. Nice of you to drop in.
I’m Eddie, Chief Engineer. Now, Captain – I’ve ’ad a look round …
HERC: Actually, I’m merely a passenger on this flight.
EDDIE: Oh, sorry. I’ve ’ad a look round, Captain …
DOUGLAS: You’re getting warmer, but no.
EDDIE: Bloody ’ell. Someone give me a clue then.
MARTIN: Oh, for goodness’ sake, it’s me! Look at my arm! Look at my hat!
EDDIE: Very nice. So, Captain, I’ve ’ad – as I may have said – a look round and there’s absolutely
nothing wrong at all. Well, I say that – there’s about a dozen things wrong, but nothing that’d cause
smoke in the galley.
DOUGLAS: Just one of life’s mysteries, then: the self-igniting and -extinguishing galley. Perhaps we’ll
never know its secrets.
CAROLYN: All right, can we just get back up in the air, please?
DOUGLAS: Maybe it was the ghost of some of Arthur’s cruelly-burned toast.
MARTIN: Yes, if you’d all like to get back on board …
DOUGLAS: No takers for the ghost toast? Shame.
MARTIN: Er, Linda, this way.
LINDA: Yeah, I just wanted to ask Eddie, though: sorry, what did you mean, “a dozen things wrong”?
EDDIE: Well, look at it. It’s only gaffer tape and hope keeping it together.
MARTIN: Er, actually, this is a perfectly airworthy craft. There may be a few superficial cosmetic snags,
but I conduct a meticulous walk-round before every flight.
EDDIE: Oh yeah? Where’s your tail navigation light, then? Or doesn’t your meticulous walk-round extend
to looking up?
MARTIN: It … Oh. Well, I’m sure it was fine when we left. I would have noticed. The bulb must have
blown while we were in the air.
EDDIE: Probably, yeah. ’ow long was that, again? Seven minutes, did you say?
MARTIN: Well, then, you’d better replace it, hadn’t you?
EDDIE: Eh?
MARTIN: You’ve identified a fault on my aircraft. Thank you. Now, naturally, I expect you to make it
good.
LINDA: Martin, d’you not think we’d be better off getting under way?
EDDIE: It’s a light, Captain, a little twinkly light so no-one flies into the back of you in the dark. I reckon
you can risk going without it at midday.
MARTIN: We might be delayed. It might get dark.
EDDIE: You’re flying from Birmingham to Newcastle. Which way round the globe are you plannin’ on
going?
MARTIN (getting on his high horse): Look, I happen to be the commander of this vessel, and if you want
me to sign off your tech log, we will do this – please – by the book.
EDDIE: All right then, Commander. By the book it shall be.
MARTIN: Thank you.
EDDIE: So the first thing we’ll need is a cherry picker.
MARTIN: What? What for?
EDDIE: To reach the tail light.
MARTIN: But it’s right here! You can reach it! You only need a stepladder!
EDDIE: A stepladder, Commander?! Oh, you daredevil! No, no, the book specifically forbids the use of
the dreaded stepladder or – as it’s better known round ’ere – the widow-maker. What we will be requiring
is a cherry picker and, of course, a safety harness, hard hat and high-vis vest. See you in an hour or so.
(He walks away.)
MARTIN: Right. Still, I think the principle was … was worth …
(He falls silent.)

(Bing-bong.)
MARTIN (over cabin address): Er, hello, chaps. Um, just to say everything’s absolutely under control but
the ground engineer – and I – did, er, at the last minute, jointly notice a minor performance defect which
he’s going to put right now. So, we should be taking off in … about an hour.
CAROLYN (yelling from the cabin): Martin! What have you done now?!
MARTIN (over cabin address): So sorry about the delay – which is not, incidentally, because of anything
I’ve done now.
CAROLYN: I’m sorry about this, Herc.
HERC: No, not to worry. We’ve still got two hours in hand.
ARTHUR: Brilliant! I love take-off delays!
DOUGLAS: Oh, Arthur, please! Even you cannot love take-off delays!
CAROLYN (wearily): No, he does.
ARTHUR: Yeah. Yeah, because take-off’s the best bit of the whole flight, isn’t it, and normally it’s over
before you can enjoy it, whereas this way we get to really build up to it! Right, I’m gonna get some teas
and coffees on and – er, Mum?
CAROLYN: What?
ARTHUR: It’s gonna be an hour. Can we open the games cupboard?

(In the hangar)

MARTIN: Hello, Linda. I’ve, er, I’ve appraised them of the situation. Is Eddie back yet?
LINDA: No.
MARTIN: Oh. Right. So, Linda, apart from being a pilot, are you anything else? I mean, do you do
anything else, or do you like … anything?
LINDA: Do I like anything? Er, well, I’m a rally driver, if that’s the sort of thing you mean.
MARTIN: Oh, right! Wow! How exciting! Rally driving. That’s amazing! Gosh! So many questions. (He
pulls in a deep breath.) Um, for instance, do you do it by yourself or with your … I dunno if you have … if
you have a …
LINDA: … a navigator, yes.
MARTIN: Right, yes. And do you drive or does he …?
LINDA: Well, because I’m the driver and Sam’s the navigator, I tend to do the driving.
MARTIN: Oh, yes, of course, silly of me! And Sam – is he your … I mean, is he also …?
LINDA: Well, for a start, she’s a woman.
MARTIN: Oh, right. Oh, I see. I’m sorry. Of course.
LINDA: What do you mean “of course”?
MARTIN: I don’t mean anything.
LINDA: Are you assuming that because I’m a pilot and a rally driver that I must be a lesbian?
MARTIN: No! I’m not assuming that! I hope you’re not!
LINDA: You hope I’m not?!
MARTIN: I mean, not because it’s bad. It’s not! Lesbians are great! I just meant, I hope you’re not for my
sake. No, not my sake! I mean for all men’s sake. No, that’s worse. God.
LINDA: Let’s just change the subject.
MARTIN: Yes. Um, so … how did you come to join Caledonian?
LINDA (furiously): Oh for goodness’ sake! Because I was the best candidate for the job, okay? My father
deliberately didn’t sit on the panel and I applied under my mother’s maiden name.
MARTIN: What?
LINDA: Well, you’re insinuating I only got the job because my dad is Chief Pilot, aren’t you?
MARTIN: No! No, not at all. I didn’t … I didn’t … I didn’t even know. Your dad’s the Chief Pilot? Of
Caledonian?
LINDA: Yes! So what? It doesn’t matter!
MARTIN: No! Not in the least. That’s a totally, totally … un-mattering thing.

(In the cabin)

CAROLYN: So, the deal is that I pay you three hundred and sixty-two pounds now …
HERC: Yes.
CAROLYN: … plus you don’t pay any rent next time you land on any of my greens, my yellows –
excluding Leicester Square – or Park Lane … unless I’ve built a hotel on it, unless you mortgage
something, unless it’s a station.
HERC: Unless it’s King’s Cross.
CAROLYN: Yes. Well, that seems straightforward enough. Deal.
DOUGLAS: I must say, Herc, Monopoly’s a very different game with you than it is with Arthur.
ARTHUR (indignantly): Hey!
DOUGLAS: Arthur’s strategy tends to be pretty ruthlessly focussed on getting Marylebone and Covent
Garden because those are the ones he’s been to.
CAROLYN: He also once did a deal whereby he gave Martin Mayfair so long as he was also allowed to
give him the Electric Company.
ARTHUR: Well, I kept having to times things by four. That’s not fun, that’s maths!

(In the hangar)

EDDIE (unnecessarily loudly): All right, I’ve made it! I’m up here! (Sarcastically) Can you hear me down
there, Commander?
MARTIN (flatly): Yes.
EDDIE: All right. Safety visor on, noise cancelling headphones on. Stand by, Commander! I’m now about
to commence the operation!
MARTIN: Right.
EDDIE: And …
(He screws the bulb round five times, takes it out, and screws the new one round five times to fit it into
its socket.)
EDDIE: And there we are! One brand new navigation tail light shining like a beacon! And now let the
descent begin!
(Warning beep.)
AUTOMATED VOICE: Caution. Cage about to descend.
(Warning beep.)
AUTOMATED VOICE: Caution. Cage about to descend.
EDDIE: And away we go!
(The cherry picker whirrs for about a second.)
EDDIE: Ah, that’s better. I can’t stand heights.
MARTIN: Fine. Have you had your fun now?
EDDIE: You wanted the book – you got the book. Are you happy to sign off the tech log now?
MARTIN: Yes.
(He scribbles his signature.)
MARTIN: Right. And now that’s done, let me just say this: people like you love to mock doing it by the
book, but one of these days you might just find yourself on a plane when something goes wrong and
then you’ll be jolly glad that there is a book and that there are people like me who do it by it.
EDDIE: Oh yes?
MARTIN: Yes, actually. Goodbye.
EDDIE: Of course, I haven’t signed the tech log yet.
MARTIN: … Oh.
EDDIE: When did you last check the radios?
MARTIN: This morning.
EDDIE: What, all two hundred and fifty-six channels?
MARTIN: No, of course not.
EDDIE: Right. This aircraft is grounded.
MARTIN: What?! No!
EDDIE: What can I say? You’ve shown me the error of my ways.

DOUGLAS: All right, Arthur, for a cheese: according to Jean Paul Sartre, what is hell?
ARTHUR (thoughtfully): Hmm. Right. Jean Paul Sartre. What would he have said?
HERC: Are you familiar with Jean Paul Sartre, Arthur?
ARTHUR: Of course I am. I think he’d have said that hell is something like when the baddies are in a
concrete bunker and you’re out of grenades.
CAROLYN: Dear heart, are you by any chance thinking of Jean Claude Van Damme?
ARTHUR: I might be, yes.
DOUGLAS: Sorry, Arthur. “Hell is other people.”
ARTHUR: What?! That’s just stupid! Other people are great!
DOUGLAS: I’d love to have seen you and Sartre go head to head on that one.
CAROLYN: My go.
(She rolls the dice.)
CAROLYN: Ah, Art and Lit, please, Herc.
HERC: Oh dear … (he laughs) … this is terribly easy. Which Bizet opera features the Toreador Song?
DOUGLAS (laughing in agreement): Oh dear!
CAROLYN: I haven’t the least idea.
(Herc laughs again.)
CAROLYN: Is there something amusing you, Captain Hercules?
HERC: Oh. You really don’t know?
CAROLYN: No, I really don’t know. Tosca?
DOUGLAS: Carolyn! That’s Puccini!
CAROLYN: Take your word for it.
HERC: Oh, Carolyn, you’re not gonna tell me you don’t like opera?
CAROLYN: Well, what’s the point of it? It does two things badly. If I want a story, I go to see a play. If I
want to hear music, I go to a concert.
ARTHUR: Do you, Mum? When?
CAROLYN: Shut up, Arthur. What I have no use for is a ridiculous story sung at me by actors who can’t
act in a language I don’t speak for four and a half hours.
HERC: Oh, what utter nonsense. Well-sung opera is the pinnacle of human endeavour.
CAROLYN: Oh, rot!
HERC (singing grandly): ♪ Toréador, Toréador … ♪
DOUGLAS (joining in with him): ♪ Toréador, Toréador … ♪
(They continue singing.)
CAROLYN: Yes, Arthur, the answer was wrong. Hell is being trapped in a grounded aircraft with two
middle-aged pilots … (her voice rises) … singing Puccini at you!
DOUGLAS and HERC (simultaneously): It’s not Puccini!
CAROLYN (yelling): I don’t care!

EDDIE: Channel thirty-two. Golf Tango India radio check.

BIRMINGHAM ATC: Strength five.
MARTIN: So, Eddie, how are you getting on?
EDDIE: The first thirty-two are clear as a bell, Commander. The next two hundred and twenty-four – who
can say?
(Flight deck door opens)
HERC: Hello there. Eddie, is it? I’m Herc, the other captain. I gather you’re very kindly checking the
comms for us, yes?
EDDIE: That’s right. Gotta do it by the book for the commander here.
HERC: Oh, oh golly, yes. Cross the i’s and dot the t’s – couldn’t agree more. No, I just wondered if you
fancy a little bet. You’ve got two hundred and fifty-six channels to check. I bet you fifty quid I know which
one you’re on.
EDDIE: That’s pretty long odds, isn’t it? And how will you know I’m tellin’ the truth?
HERC: Oh, my dear chap, I trust you implicitly. Because, you see, my guess – on which I’m betting this
fifty pound note – is that out of the two hundred and fifty-six channels, you’re on channel two hundred
and fifty-five.
EDDIE: Oh, I see. Well, very close, Captain, but as it ’appens, I was on two hundred and fifty-six!
HERC (insincerely): Oh, curse my terrible luck. Here you go.
EDDIE: Much obliged. Okay, you’re good to go.

DOUGLAS: And on stand at two thirty-two.

MARTIN: Right.
(Bing-bong.)
MARTIN (into cabin address): Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Newcastle. I do apologise for our
delay today and I hope you’ve nonetheless enjoyed your flight. And could First Officer Fairbairn step into
the flight deck for a moment?
DOUGLAS: Oooh! You’re going to ask her?
MARTIN: Yes.
DOUGLAS: For a date, or to take your c.v.?
MARTIN: None of your business.
DOUGLAS: Fair enough. Well, good luck.
MARTIN: Were you planning to just sit there? I mean, I can ask Arthur to get you some popcorn.
DOUGLAS: Right. No.
(He leaves as Linda comes in.)
LINDA: You wanted to see me?
MARTIN: Yes, I-I did. I just wanted to say to you that if, some time, I mean, in the future,
well obviously in the future, if you felt like … Linda, would you like to go to Duxford Air Museum with me?
LINDA: Oh, I am so pleased you said that, Martin.
MARTIN: Are you?!
LINDA: Yes! Oh … God, no, sorry – I don’t want to go out with you. Sorry. I should have said that first. I
mean, no offence, but no.
MARTIN: Right. So when you say you’re so pleased I said it …
LINDA: No, I meant I’m so pleased that you said that. I could see there was something and … forgive
me, but I had this awful feeling that you were gonna pull out a c.v. for me to give to Dad!
(She laughs. Martin joins in falsely.)
MARTIN: Oh, no, I … wasn’t going to do that.
LINDA: No, of course not. I’m sorry, but people do, though, and … Oh, I’ve been thinking the worst of
you all this time. Forgive me?
MARTIN: Of course! (In a mock-teasing voice) Maybe I should give you my c.v. now!
LINDA (laughing): There you are – you see, you’re funny! I had a feeling that you would be if you just
relaxed.
MARTIN: So … might you, after all …?
LINDA (interrupting): No. I think you relaxed because I said no, and I think you’re probably right about
that.

HERC: Well, cheerio, Douglas. Jolly good to see you.

DOUGLAS: Yes, and you.
HERC: Hope to bump into you again soon.
DOUGLAS: Well, funny you should say that. I was rather toying with the idea of, er, well, stretching my
wings a little.
HERC: Oh?
DOUGLAS: Yes. I wondered if it was time to be thinking about a move to a slightly bigger airline with
aeroplanes in the plural. I mean, even Caledonian mightn’t be a bad …
HERC: Oh, I wouldn’t do that.
DOUGLAS: Really?
HERC: Goodness me, no, no. No, you’d find it deadly dull after all the excitement of charter life, nipping
round the world like a sports car rather than lumbering about in a big old bus like us poor chaps. No, I
envy you.
DOUGLAS: But if – hypothetically – I were to ask …
HERC: Ah, but you wouldn’t ask, would you?
DOUGLAS: No. (Grimly) As you say, I’m very happy where I am.

HERC (signing something off): And done. Well, thank you very much, Carolyn, for a far more
entertaining trip than I had any right to expect.
CAROLYN: Our pleasure. Lovely to meet you. Goodbye.
HERC: Oh, and, er, Carolyn?
CAROLYN: Yes?
HERC: I can’t tell you how wrong you are about opera.
CAROLYN: Oh, come on, we’ve already had that argument, and I’ve already devastatingly won it.
HERC: I don’t think so, and I thought perhaps I’d prove it to you. There’s a rather super Rigoletto at
Covent Garden at the moment. I don’t believe it’s humanly possible to see it and still dislike opera. Why
don’t you come along?
CAROLYN: With you?
HERC: Yes.
CAROLYN (after a long pause): I think not.
HERC: Oh, all right. May I ask why?
CAROLYN: Because I hate opera, as you know.
HERC: Fair enough. Just a suggestion. Cheerio.
CAROLYN: Er, what I like is walking. I often walk my dog, for instance, on Brinkley Chase near Fitton,
and then sometimes I have lunch in a pub.
HERC: Well, now you’re redefining the terms of the argument.
CAROLYN: Yes, I am.
HERC: All right, then, how’s Thursday?
CAROLYN: I’ll let you know. Bye.
(She walks away.)
HERC (to himself): Jolly good! Now, I wonder if, er …
(Footsteps approach.)
HERC: Ah, you got my message. Excellent. Well, listen: I just wanted to get you on your own for a
moment to tell you I was very impressed today by the way you handled our little stopover, and by your
attitude generally. So, look, here’s my card. If you ever fancy slinging your c.v. over to Caledonian, I’ll
make sure you’re on the top of the pile.
ARTHUR: Gosh! Well, that’s very kind of you, Herc, but to be honest, I’m really happy here!

SEASON 3 – EPISODE 4: Ottery St Mary

This week, Ottery St Mary!

(Flight deck door opens.)

ARTHUR: Here we are, chaps … er, chap. Coffee for you, Douglas, and coffee for you … to maybe have
a bit later on, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Did you by any chance forget Martin wasn’t flying today, Arthur?
ARTHUR: No, I didn’t, actually. It’s just, I only know the amounts to make coffee for two people.
DOUGLAS: You could just have made half what you usually make.
ARTHUR: Well, I couldn’t because I’d only know what to make half of once I’d made it, and once I’d
made it, I’d made it.
DOUGLAS: Oh well, fair enough, then. I didn’t realise you’d addressed the problem scientifically.
(The sat comm bleeps.)
DOUGLAS (into sat comm): Hello? Starbucks, Irish Sea.
MARTIN (over sat comm): Douglas, it’s Martin.
DOUGLAS: Hullo there. Enjoying your day off?
MARTIN: No. Douglas, how long ’til you land?
DOUGLAS: About half an hour. Why?
MARTIN: Great. Is Arthur there?
DOUGLAS: Well, not all there.
ARTHUR: Hello, Skip! This is weird, isn’t it? ’Cause normally when I’m here listening to someone on sat
comm, you’re here too listening to them, only now you’re there where they are and I’m here where you
usually are andwhere I usually am and am now, talking to you!
DOUGLAS: You find Arthur in philosophical mood, Captain.
MARTIN: Arthur, I need you to help me.
ARTHUR: Brilliant! I love helping.
MARTIN: Well, this is a big help – a very big help.
ARTHUR: No problem, Skip. I am a very big helper.
MARTIN: Well, Arthur … Um, Douglas, are you still listening?
DOUGLAS: I don’t have an enormous amount of choice, Martin.
MARTIN: Can’t you put your fingers in your ears?
DOUGLAS: Well, heaven knows I’m not generally a stickler for safety procedures, but I’m not certain
that’s a good idea whilst flying an aeroplane.
MARTIN (tetchily): Fine. (He sighs.) Arthur, I’m at Fitton Hospital.
ARTHUR: On no! Are you all right?
MARTIN: No. I’ve sprained my ankle.
DOUGLAS: Oh dear. How did you do that?
MARTIN: I was … it doesn’t matter how.
DOUGLAS: Mmmmmartin?
MARTIN (defensively): Look, it’s a perfectly valid tool when teaching best safety practice to demonstrate
the wrong way as well as the right way.
DOUGLAS: You twisted your ankle whilst teaching someone how not to twist their ankle?
MARTIN: … Anyway. Arthur, you know how – although I’m mostly a pilot – I’m also a bit of a Man with a
Van?
ARTHUR: Yeah.
MARTIN: Well, today – right now, actually – I’m supposed to be picking up a piano in Fitton and
delivering it to a pub in Devon.
ARTHUR: Wouldn’t have thought you could do that with a sprained ankle.
MARTIN: No, Arthur, I can’t. This is where the ‘you helping me’ part comes in. My van is at the airfield
and the addresses and the spare van keys are in my pigeonhole.
DOUGLAS: Spare Van Keys – didn’t we fly him to Amsterdam once?
MARTIN: Douglas, shush. Arthur, when you land, do you think that you could … (he hesitates
momentarily) … cou-cou-could you pick them up, find my van, pick me up at the hospital, drive me to
Fitton, load a piano and then … (he takes a long breath) … drive me to Ottery St Mary?
ARTHUR (nonchalantly): Yeah, no problem. All right, bye.
DOUGLAS: Really, Martin? Arthur? Is this wise?
ARTHUR (indignantly): Hey!
MARTIN: I-I know, I know! But I don’t have a choice.
ARTHUR: Double hey! I can do it!
DOUGLAS: Would it be worse for you to cancel the job, or to rely on Arthur – Arthur – to pick up and
drive a piano – a piano – two hundred miles in a van – a van?
ARTHUR: Why shouldn’t I?
DOUGLAS: Because, Arthur, you’re a clot.
ARTHUR (indignantly): I’m not a clot! … What’s a clot?
DOUGLAS: Well, you know the way that you are and the things that you do?
ARTHUR: Yeah.
DOUGLAS: Those are the ways of a clot.
MARTIN: Douglas, you’re forgetting: I’ll be there with him the while time, supervising.
DOUGLAS: Oh, then, what can possibly go wrong?(!)
MARTIN: Yeah, but there’s no-one else to ask!
DOUGLAS: No-one?
MARTIN: No.
(Douglas clears his throat pointedly.)
MARTIN: Really?! Would you?
DOUGLAS: Well, I’ve nothing else to do today and it’s always useful to have someone owe you a
colossal favour.
(Martin grunts.)
ARTHUR: But I can still come, right?
DOUGLAS: Of course!
MARTIN: Er, really, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Oh yes! I see my role as very much a managerial one with perhaps a little light driving. If
you want actual piano-shoving done, we’ll need a piano-shover.
ARTHUR: Brilliant!

(Portacabin’s office door opens.)

CAROLYN: Ah, yes? Oh, hello, you two.
ARTHUR: Hi, Mum. Er, GERTI’s all hoovered and locked up, so can I go to Devon?
CAROLYN: Devon?
ARTHUR: Yeah. Er, Martin and Douglas are taking a piano to somewhere called … er, what was it … um
… Weasels King Henry? Hedgehog O’Brien?
DOUGLAS: Ottery St Mary.
ARTHUR: Yeah … and they’ve said I can come too. Can I go, Mum?
CAROLYN: Arthur, you are twenty-nine years old. You don’t need my permission to go to Devon.
ARTHUR: … Is that a yes?
CAROLYN: Yes!
ARTHUR: You won’t be bored all day without me?
CAROLYN: I’ll struggle through.
DOUGLAS: Excellent! All right, then, Arthur – you get the keys and addresses; I’ll seek out the van.
(Office door closes. Carolyn picks up the phone and dials.)
HERC (answering at the other end): Hello? Herc Shipwright.
CAROLYN: Ah, Herc. It’s Carolyn Knapp-Shappey here. Are you still free today?
HERC: Oh, hello. Yes, I am.
CAROLYN: Yes, well, to my great disappointment, various better offers have fallen through and I am, in
fact, reluctantly available for that lunch and dog walk you were nagging me about.

MARTIN: Yes, this is it – The Laurels.

(The doorbell is rung.)
MARTIN: Now let me do the talking, all right?
DOUGLAS: Of course.
ARTHUR: Right-o.
(The door is opened.)
LADY: Hello.
DOUGLAS: Good morning, madam. I am Doug, this is Mart and Arth. We are your Man with a Van – or,
rather, Men with a Ven.
MARTIN: Hello. I-I’m sorry, ignore him. I’m Martin Crieff. We’re from Icarus Removals.
LADY: Oh, right, you’re here for the piano.
DOUGLAS: “Icarus”?
MARTIN: Yes, that’s right.
DOUGLAS: You do know what happened to Icarus, don’t you?
LADY: It’s in here. Wipe your feet.
MARTIN: Thank you very much. (Hissing to Douglas) Of course I do!
(The door shuts behind them as they go in.)
DOUGLAS: So you’ve deliberately named your company after the first bad pilot in history?
MARTIN (through gritted teeth): Shut up!
LADY: Here it is.
DOUGLAS: A-ha!
(He plays a dramatic flourish on the piano.)
DOUGLAS: Ah, not bad. She’ll be wasted in a pub.
ARTHUR: Wow! Douglas, that’s amazing! Ooh, now do Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines!
DOUGLAS: Absolutely not.
ARTHUR: Oh, but it’s my favourite!
DOUGLAS: Anyway, I don’t know how it goes.
ARTHUR: Yeah, you must do! Umm … (He sings tunelessly) ♪ Up, down, flying around! Looping the
loop and defying … (he snatches a breath) … the ground! ♪
DOUGLAS: If anything, I now know how it goes even less. But I can do you a little Chopin.
(He begins to play a perfect rendition of Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2)
MARTIN: Yes, thank you, Douglas. This lady wants us to move it, not show off on it.
LADY: Oh, I don’t mind. Isn’t he good?
DOUGLAS (continuing to play): You’re too kind.
MARTIN: Actually, we’re on rather a tight schedule.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Seven hours to drive two hundred miles. Every second counts.
MARTIN: Douglas, please.
DOUGLAS: Certainly, Icarus.
(He deliberately plays a mis-chord, then stops.)
DOUGLAS: All right, Arthur, snap to it. Arthur provides the brawn of our little operation, madam. I – you
may not be entirely surprised to learn – am the brains.
LADY: He doesn’t look very brawny.
DOUGLAS: True, but that’s nothing compared to how much he’s not brainy.
ARTHUR: Hey!
LADY: And what’s he for?
DOUGLAS: Martin? Ah, Martin here has perhaps the most important thing of all.
LADY: What’s that?
DOUGLAS: A van.

(A doorbell rings, then the door is opened)

HERC: Hello, Carolyn.
CAROLYN: Oh, there you are. You’re late.
HERC: We didn’t set a time.
CAROLYN: You’re later than I imagined you’d be.
HERC: Then you clearly don’t have a very vivid imagination.
(Carolyn’s dog starts yapping.)
CAROLYN (crooning): Hello, darling. Did you hear the silly late man?
HERC: Oh, hello. What a ridiculous dog.
CAROLYN: I’m sorry?
HERC: I said you have a ridiculous dog.
CAROLYN: My dog is not ridiculous.
HERC: Then whose dog is this? (To the dog) Hello there. (To Carolyn) What is she?
CAROLYN: She is a cockerpoo.
HERC: Oh! A cockerpoo. Obviously I’d never have called her ‘ridiculous’ had I known she was a
cockerpoo(!)
CAROLYN: It is a cross between a poodle and a …
HERC: … cockatoo?
CAROLYN: A cocker spaniel. And she’s not ridiculous. She happens to be a noble and faithful hound.
HERC: Mmm-hmm. What’s she called?
CAROLYN: … Doesn’t matter.
HERC: What?
CAROLYN: Her name is not important. Right – I thought we’d have lunch first, then walk after.
HERC: Oh. I’d rather walk first, work up an appetite.
CAROLYN: Fine. I’ll see you when you finally get to the pub then. I’ll be the one looking full.
DOUGLAS (closing the van door): All right. Are we ready to go?
MARTIN: Yes.
ARTHUR: Yep.
DOUGLAS: Jolly good. Pre-driving to Devon checklist, Captain? Doors?
MARTIN: Closed.
DOUGLAS: Seatbelts?
MARTIN: On.
DOUGLAS: Piano?
MARTIN: Checked.
DOUGLAS: Piano?
ARTHUR: Cross-checked.
DOUGLAS: Jellybabies?
(Sound of a bag of sweets being tugged open.)
MARTIN: Jellybabies to manual.
DOUGLAS: Excellent! Then off we go.
(He starts the van and pulls away.)
MARTIN: I, um, I-I would have helped with the loading, you know, but it’s only … this, this ankle is …
DOUGLAS: It’s quite all right. We managed.
MARTIN: I’m impressed you got the owner to do so much of the lifting.
DOUGLAS: Yes, she had a sort of wiry strength for her age.
ARTHUR: I didn’t know you could play the piano, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Well, you remember that time when there was that thing you didn’t know whether or not I
could do, and then it turned out that I couldn’t?
ARTHUR: No.
DOUGLAS: No, nor do I.
(They drive on for a moment, then Martin hisses in a panicked breath through his teeth and whimpers.)
DOUGLAS: What?
MARTIN: Er, nothing. It’s just, uh, a bit close to that Volvo.
DOUGLAS (reprovingly): Martin!
MARTIN: No, no, no, don’t bite my head off but the van’s probably wider than you’re used to driving.
DOUGLAS: I am used to driving an aeroplane.
MARTIN: Not on the A46.
(Silence for a moment.)
ARTHUR: Yellow car.
DOUGLAS: What?
ARTHUR: Nothing. Just “yellow car”.
MARTIN: Why did you say “yellow car”?
ARTHUR: There was a yellow car.
MARTIN: But why did you say “yellow car”?
ARTHUR: You’ve got to say “yellow car” when there’s a yellow car.
MARTIN: Why?
ARTHUR: That’s how you play Yellow Car.
MARTIN: I’m not playing Yellow Car.
ARTHUR: You’re always playing Yellow Car.
DOUGLAS: And how – though I fear I can guess – does one play Yellow Car?
ARTHUR: Right, well, imagine you’re driving along …
MARTIN: We are driving along.
ARTHUR: Oh yeah. Okay, so now you look at the cars as they come along in the other direction and
they’re all different colours, so, for instance, now, er, that one’s white; that one’s blue; that one’s a sort of
metally-grey …
DOUGLAS: … and when you see a yellow car, you say, “Yellow car.”
ARTHUR (indignantly): How did you know?!
DOUGLAS: A wild stab in the dark.
MARTIN: And then what?
ARTHUR: You start again.
DOUGLAS: So how does it end, this game?
ARTHUR: It never ends.
DOUGLAS: That’s very much what I feared.

WAITRESS: Are you ready to order?

HERC: Yes, I think so. I’ll, um, I’ll have the mushroom and aubergine risotto.
CAROLYN: Eugh!
HERC: What do you mean, “Eugh”?
CAROLYN: Well, you’ve seen they have proper food here as well.
HERC: Nevertheless …
WAITRESS: Any starter?
HERC: Greek salad, please.
CAROLYN: Oh, don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian?
HERC: I will tell you that because I am one.
WAITRESS: And for you, madam?
CAROLYN: That’s very disappointing. Why on earth …?
HERC: Carolyn, all through human history, we’ve been wrong about equality and we thought we were
right. “All men are equal, except slaves, obviously.” “Oh, no, wait – all men are equal except black ones,
obviously.” “No! No, wait – all people are equal except women, obviously.” Look, are you not at all
curious about what we’re still getting wrong? And don’t you think there’s a good chance it’s “All lives are
equal except animals, obviously”?
CAROLYN: That’s an eloquent argument.
HERC: Thank you.
CAROLYN: I mean, it’s childish, specious, and the bit where you compare animal rights with universal
suffrage is frankly offensive, but it’s superficially eloquent.
WAITRESS: Shall I come back?
CAROLYN: No-no-no. No, I’m ready. I’ll have the rack of lamb.
WAITRESS: And to start?
CAROLYN: The whitebait.
WAITRESS: Certainly.
CAROLYN: Um, out of interest, about how many whitebait do you get in a serving?
WAITRESS: About thirty, madam.
CAROLYN: Gosh, imagine that: thirty little lives on a plate. Yum yum.

MARTIN: Okay: so as long as we average at least eleven miles an hour, we should get to Ottery St Mary
by six.
DOUGLAS: Well, it’s a punishing pace but I think I’m up to it.
ARTHUR: Why’s it called that, then, Skip?
MARTIN: What?
ARTHUR: Ottery St Mary.
MARTIN: I’ve no idea.
ARTHUR: Do you know, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Yes.
MARTIN: Do you?
DOUGLAS: Certainly I do. You see, St Mary is the patron saint of Devon and she, of course, was
famously martyred by being eaten alive by otters.
ARTHUR: Really?
DOUGLAS: Oh yes – rabid otters. So she’s always portrayed in pictures absolutely covered in otters.
ARTHUR: What, eating her?
DOUGLAS: Sometimes, in the more fire and brimstone churches. Elsewhere, the assumption is they’re
all in heaven now and have made up, so they’re just shown milling about her, nuzzling her affectionately
and offering her ottery kisses and gifts of haddock.
MARTIN: Douglas …
ARTHUR: Why would the otters go to heaven if they ate a saint?
DOUGLAS: You’ve put your finger, Arthur, as is so often your way, on the crux of a thorny theological
problem. So far, our best guess is simply that St Peter’s got a real soft spot for otters. He looks into
those whiskery faces and goes … (in an affectionate voice) … “You guys! I can’t stay mad at you!” and
lets them into heaven.
ARTHUR: So heaven is full of otters!
DOUGLAS: More than you can possibly imagine.
MARTIN: So, in your case, Arthur, probably be about twelve.
ARTHUR: Hey, I can imagine loads of otters!
DOUGLAS: Really? How many?
ARTHUR: A million!
DOUGLAS: You see, I don’t think you can. I don’t think anyone can.
ARTHUR: I can. I’m doing it now!
(Long pause.)
ARTHUR: Wow!
DOUGLAS: No, you’re just imagining a lot of otters and then saying that’s a million. I don’t
think anyone can actually genuinely imagine more than about twenty otters at a time.
MARTIN: Oh, come on. I mean, I can definitely imagine a hundred otters.
ARTHUR: Mmm, me too, yellow car.
DOUGLAS: All right. How much space do they take up?
MARTIN: Er …
DOUGLAS: Could you, for instance, get a hundred otters on board GERTI?
MARTIN: Yes, I reckon you could.
DOUGLAS: And is it a jam-packed RSPCA-nightmare of a plane, or are the otters lounging in relative
comfort?
MARTIN: Well, okay, there’s, er, there’s sixteen seats, so, say, two to a seat.
DOUGLAS: They’re good friends, these otters?
MARTIN: Let’s hope so. Then one in each overhead compartment …
DOUGLAS: Always remembering to open them with care because otters may have shifted during the
flight.
ARTHUR: And, er, one under each seat?
DOUGLAS: Yes! Good thinking.
MARTIN: Oh, but that’s where the lifejackets are.
DOUGLAS: That’s all right – otters can swim. Now, how many in the galley?
MARTIN: Er, four on the floor, two on the worktops? Well, it depends – are we carrying Carolyn and
Arthur?
DOUGLAS: To wait on the otters? I think that would be an indulgence, frankly. I think we’d be better off
replacing them with more otters.
MARTIN: Might be better off replacing Arthur with an otter anyway!
ARTHUR (indignantly): Hey!
DOUGLAS: So, thirty-two in the seats, sixteen in the overhead lockers, sixteen under the seats, six in
the galley …
MARTIN: … fifteen in the hold?
DOUGLAS: Oh, twenty easily; and six or seven in the aisle.
MARTIN: Call it seven.
DOUGLAS: That’s, what, ninety-seven; and three in the flight deck. A hundred!
ARTHUR: Brilliant!
MARTIN: No. Not in the flight deck.
DOUGLAS: Hypothetically, though …
MARTIN: I don’t care how hypothetical it is, I’m not flying with a live otter in the flight deck.
DOUGLAS: I don’t see why not. Historically, very few hijackings have been carried out by otters.
MARTIN: Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t think the Civil Aviation Authority would be too keen on the idea.
DOUGLAS: To be quite honest with you, Captain, I don’t think there’s a whole lot about this plane full of
unsupervised otters the CAA is going to love.

CAROLYN: Come on! You’re lagging again!

HERC (breathlessly): I’m not lagging. I’m walking about twice the normal human pace.
CAROLYN: This is why you need protein, you see – otherwise you lag.
HERC: Look, I’ll tell you who isn’t lagging – your ridiculous dog.
CAROLYN: What? Oh … (calling to the dog) … come back. Here! Here!
HERC: Why don’t you call her?
CAROLYN: I am calling her. (Calling to the dog) Bad girl! Come here!
HERC: Why don’t you call her by name?
CAROLYN (calling to the dog): Here!
HERC: I hope that little girl likes dogs.
CAROLYN (calling to the dog): Come here now!
HERC: Oh dear, I don’t think she does.
(The dog yaps.)
HERC: Well, not any more, anyway.
CAROLYN (calling to the dog): Snoopadoop, here!
(The dog yaps as she returns.)
HERC: Snoopadoop?
CAROLYN (to the dog): Good girl! (To Herc) Shut up.
HERC (amused): This is better than I dared hope.
CAROLYN: Arthur named her.
HERC: Snoopadoop the cockerpoo, noblest of hounds.

MARTIN: Couldn’t you fit a couple in the loo?

DOUGLAS: What?
MARTIN: Otters.
DOUGLAS: Ah, yes.
ARTHUR: Brilliant, Skip! So, er, how many’s that?
DOUGLAS: Ninety-nine.
ARTHUR: Oh, we’ve got to get to a hundred! Ooh, Services! Can we stop?
MARTIN: Arthur, surely you can’t need to go again?
ARTHUR: No, I don’t. I just really like motorway Services. It’s like a little gang of shops that have gone
on holiday together.
MARTIN: No, we can’t.
ARTHUR: Why not? We’ve got hours and hours to spare!
MARTIN: Not ‘to spare’, to be safe. We’re not stopping.
(Arthur groans.)
DOUGLAS: I know. Life is tough. Now, make yourself useful.
ARTHUR (serenely): I’m already useful.
DOUGLAS: Make yourself even useful-er. There’s a map thingy on my phone – type in the address.
ARTHUR: Which address?
DOUGLAS: The Gettysburg Address, Arthur. Which one do you think? The address we’re delivering this
piano to!
ARTHUR: Oh, right, yes. What is it?
DOUGLAS: Give me strength. The address on the envelope you picked up from Martin’s pigeonhole at
the airfield.
ARTHUR: … Right. Now … I know how you’re going to be, but remember you also asked me to pick up
the van keys.
MARTIN: Arthur …
ARTHUR: Half the job was picking up the van keys, and that part I did brilliantly!
MARTIN: Oh God.
DOUGLAS: Arthur, you clot.
MARTIN: Douglas, why did you get him to pick it up? You know he’s a clot!
ARTHUR (hurt): I’m not a clot.
DOUGLAS: I didn’t know he was that much of a clot! I mean, he more or less manages to feed and
dress himself. I assumed he could pick up a piece of paper ten seconds after being told to.
MARTIN: Well, you were wrong!
ARTHUR: Look, look, it’s all right. We can phone them and get their address!
DOUGLAS: On which number should we phone them?
ARTHUR: We can get the number from Directory Enquiries.
DOUGLAS: And what shall we give Directory Enquiries to get the number?
ARTHUR: Well, the addr… (He trails off, groaning plaintively.)
DOUGLAS (exasperated): Right. Back to the airfield.

HERC: Carolyn, it’s this way.

CAROLYN: No, it’s this way.
HERC: It is not, Carolyn. I have a pilot’s excellent sense of direction; I have a map; I have GPS on my
phone; and I am standing by a signpost – and all of us agree that it’s this way!
CAROLYN: And you’re all wrong. This is a short cut. Come on.
HERC: No. I don’t want to.
CAROLYN: Why not?
HERC: Well, it’s-it’s muddy and … hilly and … there’s sheep everywhere.
CAROLYN: So?
HERC: I don’t like sheep.
CAROLYN: Well, you don’t have to like them. You just have to walk past them.
HERC (tightly): I don’t want to walk past them.
CAROLYN: Hercules, are you frightened of sheep?
HERC: No. No I’m not, no.
(Carolyn bleats.)
HERC: Stop it.
CAROLYN: You are! You’re frightened of sheep! You’re frightened of little woolly baa-lambs!
HERC: No, no, I am not! Little baa-lambs I can take in my stride. It’s big, mean, hooved, horned beasts
that I don’t like.
(Carolyn bleats again.)
HERC: Stop it! It’s not funny!
CAROLYN: If I can just pick you up on a small point there, Herc … (she starts giggling) … It is the
funniest thing I’ve ever heard!
HERC: It’s not, actually. Why do people always react like this?
CAROLYN: Yes. Though, of course, now … now I understand the vegetarianism. You fear reprisals. The
midnight raid on your house; twelve balaclava’d ewes with a thirst for revenge, a jar of mint sauce and a
murderously sharp sprig of rosemary.
HERC (hurrying away): I’ll see you back at the car!

MARTIN: Okay, it’s fine. Er, this is what the built-in time was built in for. So, suppose we get back to the
airfield at, what, five? Turn straight around – yellow car – back on the M5 by …
DOUGLAS: Martin, Martin, are you playing Yellow Car?
MARTIN: … No.
DOUGLAS: Why did you say, “yellow car”?
MARTIN: I just happened to see one.
DOUGLAS: Why did you say, “yellow car”?
MARTIN: I’m not playing it. I just wanted to say it before Arthur.
DOUGLAS: That is what playing it is.
MARTIN: Fine! Then I’m playing it! And I won! Yellow car! Yellow car! Yellow car!
ARTHUR: Wow, Skip, you’re really good! I missed all of those.
(They pull up at the airfield.)
MARTIN: All right, now you two stay here. I’ll go in and get it.
(He gets out of the van.)
DOUGLAS: Hmm. Whose is that green Mercedes?
ARTHUR: I don’t know. It’s nice, isn’t it?
DOUGLAS: Let’s have a look.
(He gets out and walks towards the car.)
DOUGLAS: There’s someone in it.
(The car’s electric window winds down.)
HERC: Hello, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Herc! What on Earth are you doing here?
HERC: I’m dropping Carolyn home, but she wanted to pick something up from the office on the way.
She’s inside now if you want to speak to her.
DOUGLAS: What do you mean, “dropping her home”? Is she all right?
HERC: She’s fine.
DOUGLAS: Home from where?
HERC: We’ve been for a walk.
DOUGLAS: A walk?
HERC: That’s right.
DOUGLAS: You came all the way here to go for a walk with Carolyn?
HERC: Well, and lunch.
DOUGLAS: Oh, good Lord! And what have you done with your wife?
HERC: I’m not married.
DOUGLAS: Divorced, I take it?
HERC: Of course.
DOUGLAS: How many times?
HERC: Four. You?
DOUGLAS: Just the three.
HERC: Oh, you old romantic.
DOUGLAS: Right, well, I’ll leave you to it. Goodbye.
HERC: Cheerio.
(Douglas hurries back to the van and opens the door.)
DOUGLAS: Arthur, quick. Help me get the piano out of the van.
ARTHUR: Why?
DOUGLAS: Just do it.

(The portacabin door opens.)

CAROLYN (calling out): All right, Herc, I’ve found it. Let’s go.
(Douglas plays a dramatic flourish on the piano and then accompanies himself as he sings.)
DOUGLAS: ♪ When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amoré … ♪
CAROLYN: Douglas …
DOUGLAS: ♪ When the moon seems to shine like you’ve had too much wine, that’s amoré … ♪
CAROLYN: Why am I constantly beset by pilots who think they’re funny?
DOUGLAS (stopping playing): Oh, hello Carolyn, fancy seeing you here.
CAROLYN: I’m ignoring you. You are being ignored. I am getting in the car.
(Douglas starts playing again as she gets into Herc’s car.)
DOUGLAS: ♪ Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling … ♪
(The car engine starts up.)
CAROLYN (calling from the car as it drives away): You are being ignored!
DOUGLAS: ♪ … and you’ll sing ‘Vita bella’ … ♪
ARTHUR (applauding): That was brilliant, Douglas!
DOUGLAS: ♪ Hearts will fall … ♪
(He stops playing.)
ARTHUR: Now, now do Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines!
DOUGLAS: No.
(He slams the piano lid down.)
ARTHUR (disappointed): Oh!

(Martin comes out of the portacabin.)

MARTIN: Right, I’ve given him a call. He says he’ll be there ’til seven so we can just make it as long as
… Douglas, why have you got the piano out?
DOUGLAS: Just giving it an airing.
MARTIN: Well, get it back in the van!
DOUGLAS: All right, all right. Come on, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Okay, okay!
(He tugs on the van’s door handle.)
ARTHUR: Can I have the keys?
DOUGLAS: You already have the keys.
ARTHUR: No I don’t. I gave them back to you.
DOUGLAS: No, Arthur, you didn’t. You have the keys.
ARTHUR (patting his pockets): I don’t! I don’t!
DOUGLAS: Then you’ve locked them in the van.
ARTHUR: No! I absolutely definitely gave them to you!
DOUGLAS: Except that I don’t remember taking them, and I don’t have them, so one of us has made an
incredibly stupid mistake. Which one of us does that sound more like?
ARTHUR (plaintively): That sounds more like me.
DOUGLAS: Because you’re a what?
ARTHUR: A clod.
DOUGLAS: A clot.
ARTHUR: A clot.
DOUGLAS: And a clod.
MARTIN (frantically): So what are we gonna do? It’s five already. If we call a locksmith, we’ll never make
it. Douglas, d’you know a trick?
DOUGLAS: I’m afraid breaking into Transit vans is a little outside my sphere.
MARTIN: Well, think of something.
DOUGLAS: Well … we may no longer be men with a van, but we are at the airfield and therefore we are
– as usual – men with a plane.

DOUGLAS (into radio): Bristol: Golf Tango India. Request permission for passage through your airspace
for three men and a flying piano.
BRISTOL ATC: Golf Tango India, please state intended next waypoint and key signature.
DOUGLAS: Exmoor in F sharp.
BRISTOL ATC: Accepted.
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Coffee, chaps, and I’ve had a brilliant idea.
MARTIN: Yes?
ARTHUR: The fridge in the galley. I was just looking at it. I reckon if you turned it off and took the
shelves out, you could get an otter in it!
DOUGLAS: Do you know what? I think you’re right! Gentlemen, we have hit our otter target!
ARTHUR: Hooray!
DOUGLAS: Martin, you were quite right: you can imagine a hundred otters.
MARTIN (smugly): Thank you.
ARTHUR: Oh, er, by the way, chaps …
DOUGLAS: Yes?
ARTHUR: Sorry, it’s probably obvious, because I’m a clot, but, um, when we land, how are we getting
the piano from the airfield to the pub?
MARTIN: Oh.
DOUGLAS: … Ah.

(Grunting, and the sound of the piano’s wheels squeaking as it rumbles along the road.)
MARTIN: You’re doing really well, chaps. Nearly halfway there.
DOUGLAS (grunting): Terrific(!)
MARTIN: I really wish I could push too. It’s just this stupid ankle, but I’m really, really grateful for all of
your help.
DOUGLAS (grunting): You’re welcome.
ARTHUR (panting): Yeah. You’re welcome.
DOUGLAS: He didn’t mean you.
ARTHUR: What? I helped!
DOUGLAS: You lost the address and locked the keys in the van! In what way, precisely, did you help?
ARTHUR: Well, you wouldn’t be able to push the piano without me!
DOUGLAS (breathless and angry): We wouldn’t have to push the piano without you!
ARTHUR: Oh. Well, I was the one who thought of putting an otter in the fridge!
DOUGLAS: True. In that respect, you were invaluable.
MARTIN: Chaps, we do only have ten minutes left, so if you can go any faster at all …
(Douglas and Arthur groan as they try to speed up. A car goes past.)
ARTHUR: Yellow car.
DOUGLAS and MARTIN (simultaneously): Shut up!

CAROLYN: And in racing green, Herc. Honestly. I’d have more respect for you if you’d gone for bright
red. At least then you’re saying, “Yes, I’m having a mid-life crisis. Who wants to make something of it?”
Racing green fools no-one.
HERC: If I may just interrupt the flow of ignorant bile for a moment, which house is it?
CAROLYN: Oh, here, by the tree.
(The car pulls to a halt.)
CAROLYN: Well, thank you for today, anyway.
HERC: My pleasure.
CAROLYN: Sorry if I was a bit …
HERC: No, no, you weren’t at all …
CAROLYN: … soppy.
HERC: Oh. No, you weren’t at all.
CAROLYN: But I-I didn’t always have an entirely awful time.
HERC: Good – I think. Nor did I.
CAROLYN: Right. We’ll … do this again, then?
HERC: Oh, good lord, no! No, next time, opera!
CAROLYN (instantly): No. Absolutely not.
HERC: Yes, absolutely yes. I endured your ridiculous dog and the gruesome sight of you inhaling a
shoal of fish. Now it’s your turn to endure some of the most sublime music ever created by man.
CAROLYN: I won’t like it.
HERC: I’m not remotely interested in whether you’ll like it. Also, you will like it.
CAROLYN: Well … I’ll let you know.

(Douglas and Arthur gasp breathlessly as a doorbell rings. The door opens.)
MR. HARDY: Yes?
MARTIN: Mr. Hardy, Icarus Removals.
MR. HARDY: Ah, just in time! I was about to go! Bloody hell – what happened to those two?
DOUGLAS (gasping): We … have been pushing … your piano.
MR. HARDY: What?! That’s no way to treat it! Where have you been pushing it?
MARTIN (hurriedly): Only from our van.
MR. HARDY: Where is your van?
MARTIN: We parked it round the corner.
MR. HARDY: Why did you …?
MARTIN (talking over him): So if you’d care to sign here, sir …
MR. HARDY: Hold your horses. Let’s take a look at it.
MARTIN: Of course.
MR. HARDY (walking around the piano): Uh-huh. Yeah. Yep, that’s fine. Let’s just check in here.
(He lifts the lid and hits a few random notes.)
MR. HARDY: Ooh.
MARTIN: Everything all right?
MR. HARDY: Well, yes, but what are these doing on the keys?
DOUGLAS: What?
(There’s the jingling of car keys as Mr. Hardy picks them up.)
ARTHUR: Oh. Douglas. The van keys!
DOUGLAS: Ah yes. Well, that’s good.
ARTHUR: You must have closed the lid on them, Douglas, when you finished playing to Mum.
DOUGLAS: So it seems. Still …
MARTIN: After Arthur gave them back to you.
ARTHUR: Like I said I gave them back to you.
DOUGLAS: … Yes.
ARTHUR: Oh, Douglas. You CLOT!

End credits, to the tune of Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines, followed by:
DOUGLAS: Up, down, flying around! (Singing) ♪ Looping the loop and defying the ground. They’re all …
♪(Speaking) Arthur!
ARTHUR: ♪ … frightfully keen! ♪
DOUGLAS: ♪ Those magnificent men … ♪
DOUGLAS and MARTIN: ♪ Those magnificent men … ♪
DOUGLAS, MARTIN and ARTHUR: ♪ Those magnificent men in their flying machines! ♪

SEASON 3 – EPISODE 5: Rotterdam

This week, Rotterdam!

DOUGLAS: Okay, Martin, your turn.

MARTIN: All right. I came through Customs and all I had to declare was some … (he pauses
momentarily) … jelly from New Delhi, a tunic from Munich, some maracas from Caracas and some …
cattle from Seattle.
DOUGLAS: Some cattle?!
MARTIN: Yes, why not?
DOUGLAS: No, fine. Big plane. Okay: I came through Customs and all I had …
(The sat comm begins to ring.)
DOUGLAS: Oh, that’s odd. We’re here, Carolyn and Arthur are in the cabin. Who else knows that
number?
MARTIN: No-one.
DOUGLAS (switching on the sat comm): Hello, MJN Air. Is that God?
HERC (over sat comm): Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.
DOUGLAS (unhappily): Oh, hello, Hercules.
HERC: Hello, Douglas. Call me Herc.
DOUGLAS: Did you want anything in particular, HHHHerc?
HERC: I did, actually, yes. Is, um, is Carolyn around?
DOUGLAS: She’s around in the sense that she’s in the cabin doing her job, just as we are in the flight
deck, rather busy doing ours.
HERC (insincerely): Oh, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt at a crucial stage in a word game?
MARTIN (stuttering): I-I-I-I’ll get her for you.
HERC: No-no-no, it’s all right, no. If you could just pass on a message. Turns out Friday is better than
Saturday for the opera, so I’ll pick her up at one.
DOUGLAS: Yes, of course, sir. Anything else we can do for you? Wish your Aunty Edna a happy
birthday? Tell your bookie to put a fiver each way on Gentleman Joe? Because we are of course
essentially an airborne secretarial service.
MARTIN (talking over him): Will do, Herc. It’s-it’s no trouble at all.
HERC: Thank you, Martin.
(Sat comm off.)
DOUGLAS: There’s no point toadying to him. He’s not going to get you a job at CalAir.
MARTIN: I’m not toadying. I like him. Why don’t you?
DOUGLAS: I’ve known him longer than you, that’s why.
MARTIN: And?
DOUGLAS: And he’s a smooth-talking old smarm-pot who thinks he’s the best thing to happen to the
sky since rainbows.
MARTIN: No wonder you don’t like him, then.
DOUGLAS: Yes.
MARTIN: He’s nicking your act.

DOUGLAS: Okay, Carolyn, let’s try it without the camera first. Are you ready?
CAROLYN (nervously): Yes.
DOUGLAS: All right, go.
(Carolyn begins to speak a little stiltedly in an overly forced upper class accent.)
CAROLYN: Hello. It is my very great pleasure to welcome you aboard.
ARTHUR: Action.
DOUGLAS: Thank you, Arthur. It’s usual, in fact, to shout that before the actor begins speaking.
ARTHUR: Oh, sorry. I was confused by you saying ‘go’. And then I thought I’d better say it anyway, you
know, to be on the safe side.
DOUGLAS: Let’s try again. Arthur, ready to say ‘action’?
ARTHUR: Yep.
DOUGLAS: Carolyn, ready to go?
CAROLYN (tetchily): Get on with it.
DOUGLAS: Arthur, go.
ARTHUR: Action!
DOUGLAS: Carolyn, go.
CAROLYN (in the stilted forced accent): Hello. It is my very great pleasure today to welcome you all
aboard this MJN Air flight.
DOUGLAS: May I stop you there? Try to remember you’re the owner of an airline welcoming your
passengers, not a monarch addressing her subjects.
CAROLYN: I fail to see the distinction.
DOUGLAS: Even so, maybe you could try it just a touch less like Queen Victoria recording an
answerphone greeting. I mean, you might even try risking a smile!
(There’s a short pause.)
DOUGLAS: Ah. Do you have anything less … sharky?
(Carolyn continues her script, sounding a little more like herself but still obviously uncomfortable.)
CAROLYN: We know you have a wide choice of airlines and we are delighted you’ve chosen MJN …
DOUGLAS: Delighted and baffled.
CAROLYN (continuing the script): Your safety today is our paramount concern …
ARTHUR: What’s ‘paramount’?
DOUGLAS: Biggest.
ARTHUR: Right.
CAROLYN (continuing the script): … so please pay attention to the safety demonstration even if you’re a
frequent flyer, as aircraft may vary.
DOUGLAS: This one especially – from flight to flight sometimes.
ARTHUR: And then I do the safety demonstration.
CAROLYN: Not yet! (Continuing the script) As owner and manager of MJN Air …
(The portacabin door opens.)
MARTIN: Hello.
CAROLYN: As owner and manager of MJN Air, my first priority is to ensure you have a comfortable and
enjoyable flight.
MARTIN: Is it?! ’Cause that hasn’t really been coming across. What’s going on?
CAROLYN: Mr. Alyakhin has decreed from his dacha that MJN should have a pre-flight film. He said it
would make us look more like a real airline. I pretended not to know what he meant. So Arthur’s doing
his safety demonstration …
ARTHUR: … but on film, like in a film!
CAROLYN: … and I’m doing a welcome message.
MARTIN: Arthur’s doing the safety demo?!
ARTHUR (excitedly): Yeah!
CAROLYN: Yes, he is! Why shouldn’t he?
DOUGLAS: Arthur does have a rather free-form approach to his art.
ARTHUR: Ooh! We could do it like a disaster movie!
DOUGLAS: … for instance.
MARTIN: Surely you should do that one, Carolyn.
CAROLYN: No I should not.
DOUGLAS: That was the original plan. In fact, we did a trial run this morning, but watching it back,
Carolyn was worried she looked rather ridiculous.
MARTIN (politely to Carolyn, though clearly unconvinced): Oh, I’m sure you didn’t.
DOUGLAS: Oh, she did – utterly ridiculous. I didn’t say she wasn’t right to be worried.
CAROLYN: Thank you, Douglas …
DOUGLAS: There was a particularly arresting moment when she was in a fully inflated yellow lifejacket,
demonstrating how to use a whistle …
(Martin giggles.)
CAROLYN (more firmly): Thank you, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: She looked like a musical grapefruit.
(Martin giggles again.)
CAROLYN (angrily): That will do!
MARTIN: Carolyn, I really feel I ought to do the welcome message. I mean, after all, I am the captain.
People want to hear from the captain. They find it reassuring.
CAROLYN: Martin, when has anyone ever found you reassuring?
MARTIN: That’s not fair!
CAROLYN: Look, I’m sorry, but this needs to be calm, relaxed and authoritative – none of which, I’m
afraid, are qualities for which you are famous.
DOUGLAS: Mind you, they’re terribly hard qualities to find.
MARTIN (anything but calmly): I am calm! I’m very, very calm – and authoritative, and-and, er, the other
one. What was the other one? I can do that as well, whatever it was.
DOUGLAS: Relaxed?
MARTIN (frantically): Yes! I’m very relaxed!
CAROLYN: All right. Give it your best shot.
MARTIN: Er, what, now?
CAROLYN: Practice run. Fade up on Captain Martin Crieff at the controls …
(Martin whimpers.)
CAROLYN: He turns to the camera engagingly and says …
MARTIN: I’m not ready!
CAROLYN: And blackout!
MARTIN: What? No!
CAROLYN: Thank you, Martin. We’ll let you know.
MARTIN: No-no-no, wait-wait-wait! Okay. (He clears his throat.) I’m ready now.
CAROLYN: Okay. Go.
MARTIN (calmly): Hello. Welcome to MJN Air. (His calmness immediately begins to disintegrate.) M-m-
my name is Captain Martin Crieff, though that doesn’t matter – it’s all very informal here. Just call me
Martin … well, in the context of this video, anyway. If you actually see me in person, it’s probably best
you do call me CaptainCrieff, or just Captain. It’s just protocol, I’m afraid, um, but if it was up to me you
could call me … ‘Marty’.(Slight pause.) No, no, actually, no, no, let’s not confuse things: definitely
don’t ever call me ‘Marty’. Right, so, to recap: hello. I am Captain Martin Captain … Captain Crieff, Crieff,
I mean! Can we start again?
DOUGLAS: You old perfectionist, you.
(Martin groans.)
ARTHUR: I thought he was great!
CAROLYN: You think everything’s great.
DOUGLAS: To be fair, Carolyn, he was no worse than you.
CAROLYN: I know! All right. I was hoping to avoid this, but let us bow to the inevitable. (She draws in an
unhappy breath.) Douglas, you can do it.
MARTIN (despairingly): Oh, Carolyn, no!
CAROLYN: I don’t like it either, Martin, but since we have a pilot who sounds like Stephen Fry’s favourite
uncle, we might as well use him. Go on, then, Douglas – do your stuff.
DOUGLAS: Um … no, thank you.
CAROLYN: What?
DOUGLAS (awkwardly): I’d … rather not.
CAROLYN: You’d rather not? But surely this combines your twin passions: scoring off Martin and the
sound of your own voice.
DOUGLAS: Oh, how little you know me. You see, my secret sorrow, Carolyn, is that I suffer from a quite
crippling lack of self-confidence.
CAROLYN: Do you, now?
DOUGLAS: Absolutely. It is my curse.
MARTIN: Well, that’s settled, then. I’ll do it.
CAROLYN: No you won’t. So: I can’t do it, Martin shouldn’t do it, and Douglas won’t do it. Great.
ARTHUR: Shall I do it?
CAROLYN, DOUGLAS and MARTIN (simultaneously): No!

(Footsteps along gravel.)

ARTHUR: Hang on, Douglas, I’ve dropped it again.
DOUGLAS (as they both stop): You see now why I’m carrying the video camera and you’re carrying the
lifejacket.
ARTHUR: Yeah, fair enough. Douglas? Are you really not going to do the welcome speech?
DOUGLAS: It would seem not.
ARTHUR: Because I think you’re being hard on yourself. I think you might be quite good at it if you tried.
DOUGLAS: Don’t be ridiculous, Arthur.
ARTHUR: No-no, I mean it. I really …
DOUGLAS (talking over him): Of course I should do it. I would be superb.
(He turns on a really smooth voice.)
DOUGLAS: Welcome to MJN Air, putting the excitement back into air travel – sometimes too much so.
ARTHUR: Oh, yeah! You are! You sound just like one of those guys who does that! Brilliant! Let’s go and
tell Mum.
DOUGLAS: Not so fast, man-cub. If Martin knows I want to do it, he’ll put up a fight – a fight I would win,
naturally, but why bother? Whereas if I have to be persuaded to do it, I can get a quid pro quo.
ARTHUR: What’s quick pwo kwo?
DOUGLAS: Something in return.
ARTHUR: Right. Like what?
DOUGLAS: D’you know, I haven’t even decided yet. Right, into the plane, Garbo, it’s time for your close-
up.

MARTIN (trying to sound smooth): Hello, I’m Captain Martin Crieff. Hello. My name is Captain Martin
Crieff.
(Flight deck door opens.)
MARTIN (his voice gradually becoming more frantic): This is Captain Martin Crieff. My name’s Captain
Martin Crieff.
DOUGLAS: Hello. I’m looking for a Captain Martin Crieff. Have you seen him?
MARTIN: Why can’t I make it sound authoritative?
ARTHUR: Hi, Skip! We’ve come to film my bit – on location.
MARTIN: This is Captain Martin Crieff spea … I think it’s my name.
ARTHUR: That means in the actual place where the thing is meant to be.
DOUGLAS: You’re recording a demo for Carolyn, are you?
ARTHUR: So, in this case, because the scene is set in a plane, we’re doing it in the plane.
MARTIN: Yeah. Martin. Martin. It’s just not a captain’s name. Martin.
ARTHUR: Rather than building a set … (tetchily) which we can’t afford, apparently.
DOUGLAS: What’s a captain’s name?
MARTIN: Well, yours, for instance – big surprise(!)
(He puts on a ridiculous deep cheerful voice.)
MARTIN: This is Captain Douglas Richardson.
(He switches back to his normal [croaky, sexy ... Dammit, concentrate, Ariane] voice.)
MARTIN: You see, it sounds much better.
DOUGLAS: It does sound rather good.
(Martin sighs in exasperation.)
MARTIN: Captain der-der-DER-der-der. That’s what you need – not Captain der-der-DER…ff.
(The plane door opens.)
CAROLYN: All right, studio, are we ready? Camera in position, lighting rigged?
DOUGLAS: In as much as I’m pointing the camera at him and I’ve turned the lights on, yes.
CAROLYN: Ready, Arthur? … Oh, I see the hat’s back.
ARTHUR (serenely): The hat is paramount.
DOUGLAS: It’s certainly biggest. All right, Arthur, in your own time.
(Pause.)
ARTHUR: Who’s saying ‘Action’?
DOUGLAS: You can say ‘Action’.
ARTHUR: Action!
(Pause.)
DOUGLAS (tiredly): And go.
ARTHUR: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen – or good morning if it’s the morning when you watch
this, or hello if it’s …well, any time. Hello. Er, my name is Arthur and it’s my pleasure to be being your
cabin crew today unless it’s Mum. If Mum’s being your cabin crew today, then it’s her pleasure to be
being it and it’s my displeasure not to be. But at least I’m here on the video, so it’s a little bit me as well
and I’m pleased about that.
DOUGLAS: Very good, Arthur. An excellent start. Shall we, though, stick to the version in the script for
now?
ARTHUR: Oh, yes, okay. Er, what was that again?
DOUGLAS: “Hello.”
ARTHUR: Right, yes. Hang on, just let me practice. Hallo. Hallo. No, hall… hallo. (Cheerfully) Hallo!
(He carries on practising in various different voices.)
DOUGLAS: Carolyn, you’re absolutely sure you don’t want to do this yourself?
CAROLYN: Yes.
ARTHUR (loudly): Hallo!
DOUGLAS: Fair enough. I’m sure that’s a wise decision.
CAROLYN: Well, you’re the one who said I looked stupid in that lifejacket.
DOUGLAS: I did and you do, especially blowing that whistle – which I’ve never understood why you
have to do, by the way. Frankly, anyone who needs the operation of a whistle explaining to them
deserves to drown. Anyway, yes, you look absolutely ludicrous, but on the other hand, the alternative …
ARTHUR (loudly, in a ridiculous voice): Hellooo!
CAROLYN: The alternative will be fine when he’s had a bit of practice.
DOUGLAS: If you say so. Okay, Arthur, let’s try the next bit.
ARTHUR: Okay.
DOUGLAS: Action, and also go.
ARTHUR: Right. Your seatbelt is fastened, adjusted and unfastened like this. (Rattling noises.) Hang on.
Oh, no. Sorry, it’s different when you’re not wearing it. Um, anyway, what-what-what should happen is
you put the metal square bit into the metal box of matches bit until it goes ‘click’ … No, no, it’s more of a
… (he tries to impersonate the click) … No, no, it’s … (he clicks his tongue twice) … No, that’s a dolphin.
If it makes a noise like a dolphin, I don’t know what you’ve done. Now, your nearest exit – which may be
behind you – is being pointed out by a member of the cabin crew … probably me … er, the other me, the
real me. Look at the real me. Now look back at the me me – I mean, this me, me … the me that’s talking.
If the other me’s talking as well, then shut up, me! This is my bit!
CAROLYN: Fine! Fine! I will do it!
DOUGLAS: Maybe you’re right. So you’ll do the safety demo and the welcome, then. Will you do one in
disguise, or is the idea that you’re identical twins?
CAROLYN: No. Obviously you’ll have to do the welcome.
DOUGLAS: Well, as I say, the debilitating shyness … Anyway, changing the subject abruptly and
completely, where are we flying next?
CAROLYN: Er, Rotterdam.
DOUGLAS: Oh! Rotterdam. Lovely place. Awfully near Spa.
CAROLYN: Where?
DOUGLAS: Spa. Lovely town in Belgium, about two hundred miles away. Gave its name to the, er, well,
the spa, logically enough, and this weekend, I believe, the site of the Belgian Grand Prix. In fact,
Carolyn, a thought has just occurred to me: would you mind if I nipped over to see it while we’re there?
CAROLYN: Well, you can if you like, but I don’t see how you’re going to ‘nip’ two hundred miles and
back.
DOUGLAS: No. I suppose, to do that, I’d require some kind of, er … I don’t know, flying machine.
CAROLYN: What? No! Absolutely not! You’re not borrowing GERTI to fly yourself to the Grand Prix!
DOUGLAS: That’s a shame, because it did occur to me that the excitement of the Grand Prix might be
just the thing to put some fire in my belly and help me overcome my terrible fear of cameras.
CAROLYN: Oh, I see. Not content with exacting a quid pro quo for things you don’t want to do, you’re
now demanding them for things you do!
DOUGLAS: I don’t know what you mean.
CAROLYN: Well, I’m damned if I’m bribing you to do something you want to do anyway.
DOUGLAS: Fine.
CAROLYN: Fine.

MARTIN (cheerfully): Good morning, Carolyn.

CAROLYN: Martin! You’re early. We’re not going to Rotterdam ’til two.
MARTIN: I know, but I know you want to do that film today and I thought you might want to listen to this
first.
CAROLYN: Martin …
MARTIN: I spent the whole of yesterday recording it on my phone and I think you’ll agree it’s pretty much
exactly what you asked for: calm, authoritative, relaxed. Listen.
(He activates the recording on his phone. His voice sounds about as confident as Martin is ever going to
sound – which, let’s be honest, isn’t all that confident – and the tone has a fake cheeriness to it.)
MARTIN’s VOICE: Hi, guys. My name’s Martin Crieff, the captain, and I’m the guy in charge of flying you
today. On behalf of the rest of the guys on my team and the guys back on the ground, let me give you
guys one hell of a big MJN welcome on board today. Now, before we go right ahead and fly some plane,
I’m going to ask you to pay attention to this short safety demonstration. Hey, I know, guys – big yawn,
eh? (He chuckles.) But you know what? It might just save your life. (His confidence shatters and he
starts to stutter nervously.) A-a-although, of course, an air accident is statistically incredibly unlikely. (He
tries to get his confident tone back again.) Okay.(He clears his throat.) See you on the flip side … of the
safety demonstration. Ciao!
CAROLYN: Goodness. That’s you being relaxed, is it?
MARTIN: Well, relaxed but authoritative, like, like, like a cool teacher.
CAROLYN: I see. Well, sadly, Professor Fonz, the vacancy has been filled. (She calls out.) Martin! Could
you come here a moment?
MARTIN: I-I am here.
CAROLYN: How, then, would you evaluate the chances that I am referring to you?
(The office door opens.)
SECOND MARTIN: Hello. I’m Martin. I’m the captain. Good to meet you.
(Martin lets out a panic-stricken shriek.)
MARTIN: No! I-I’m … what d’you mean, you’re the captain?
SECOND MARTIN: Yeah! You must be the first officer. Nice to meet you.
MARTIN: No, I’m the captain.
SECOND MARTIN: Ah. I thought I was the captain.
CAROLYN: Indeed you are. Martin, Martin here is the real captain. Martin, Martin here is an actor. He
will beplaying the captain.
MARTIN: B-but he-he-he’s dressed as a pilot!
CAROLYN: I know! They stop at nothing, these actors.
MARTIN: But the uniform …! Where did you get your uniform?
SECOND MARTIN: Mrs Knapp-Shappey supplied it.
CAROLYN: From a fancy dress shop, actually.
MARTIN: But it’s nicer than mine!
CAROLYN: I know! I’ll be going back there in future.
(The portacabin door opens.)
DOUGLAS: Morning, all. Oh, hello.
SECOND MARTIN: Hello. I’m Martin.
DOUGLAS: Goodness! What happened? Did you find a magic lamp?
MARTIN: I’m over here, Douglas.
CAROLYN: Martin is an actor, Douglas, whom I have hired to do the welcome.
DOUGLAS: … Oh.
CAROLYN: So isn’t that sorted out rather cleverly by me, with no need for anyone to get a free trip to
Belgium?
DOUGLAS: You know, actually, Carolyn, perhaps I could be persuaded.
CAROLYN: Right – the plan is: we’ll rehearse your speech, Martin, in the flight deck on the ground; then
we’ll take you with us to Rotterdam so we can film it actually in the air. Douglas, come and help me set
up. Martin, put the kettle on. No, not you, Martin; little Martin.
(Martin squeaks indignantly.)
MARTIN: I am not ‘little Martin’!
CAROLYN: Douglas, heel.
(The portacabin door closes as she and Douglas leave. Martin huffs indignantly.)
SECOND MARTIN: So, sorry, you’re really a pilot?
MARTIN: Yes! Yes, I really am. A captain.
SECOND MARTIN: Right. Jolly good.
MARTIN: And you’re really not.
SECOND MARTIN: Not what?
MARTIN: A pilot.
SECOND MARTIN: Good heavens, no!
MARTIN: Because you really look like one.
SECOND MARTIN: Do I? Is that a compliment?
MARTIN (despairingly): I would give a year of my life to look like you.
SECOND MARTIN (hesitantly): Oh … right. Well, thank you.
MARTIN: And your name really is …
SECOND MARTIN: … Martin. Hello.
MARTIN: You see, when you say it, somehow it works. (Tentatively, as if dreading the answer) What’s
your surname?
SECOND MARTIN: Davenport.
MARTIN (fed up): Martin Davenport. “Good evening, this is Captain Martin Davenport.” Oh, you’ve even
got a der-der-DER-der-der name!
SECOND MARTIN: Sorry, what have I got?
MARTIN (frustrated): So you look more like a captain than me, you sound more like a captain than me,
you’ve got a better uniform than me and a better name than me. You must be very pleased.
SECOND MARTIN: I really just came here to do a job.
MARTIN: Look, just … as an experiment. If you were doing the Falaya [see footnote] approach into Nice
with a twenty knot wind from the north-east, which runway would you use?
SECOND MARTIN: I’ve really no idea!
MARTIN: Have a guess!
SECOND MARTIN: Um, runway … B?
MARTIN: Runway B?! What’s that?! That’s not a runway!
SECOND MARTIN: Well, as I say …
MARTIN: It’s either the Zero Four Left or the Zero Four Right!
SECOND MARTIN (guessing): The Zero Four Right?
MARTIN: No! Left! How could you not know that?!
SECOND MARTIN: Because I’m not a pilot!
MARTIN: Such a waste! Such a terrible waste!

(Flight deck door opens)

ARTHUR: Hi, chaps! Er, Mum says are you ready for the rehearsal?
MARTIN (sulkily): No.
DOUGLAS: Yes.
ARTHUR (calling towards the cabin): Yeah, they’re ready!
MARTIN: How tall do you think he is?
DOUGLAS: Oh, Martin, I have no idea! Six one, six two?
MARTIN: Yeah, perfect height – taller than most people but not weird tall.
DOUGLAS: You’ve really got to let this go, you know.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: All right, drivers. Are you ready to make movie magic … or at least sit and watch whilst
movie magic is made beside you? Come on in, Martin.
SECOND MARTIN: Hello again.
DOUGLAS: Hello.
MARTIN (loudly, accusingly): How tall are you, Martin?
SECOND MARTIN (groaning quietly): Er, six two.
MARTIN: Huh! Told you so! Are you married?
SECOND MARTIN: Yes.
MARTIN: ’Course you are. Kids, too, I expect.
SECOND MARTIN: Yes, two.
MARTIN: Boy and a girl?
SECOND MARTIN: How did you know?
MARTIN (angrily): Just a hunch.
CAROLYN: All right! If we could save the rest of the Creepy Stalker Quiz for later, let’s get going. Little
Martin, if you could clear the captain’s seat for Big Martin.
MARTIN (furiously): Seriously, Carolyn, I am not Little Martin.
CAROLYN: So you keep saying, but the tape measure tells a different tale.
DOUGLAS: You can take my seat, Martin.
CAROLYN: What? No! No, you stay where you are, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: No, I don’t think so. I am – as I believe I’ve mentioned before – terribly shy.
CAROLYN: Oh, don’t be so childish.
DOUGLAS (petulantly): I’m not being childish, but if I can’t go to the Grand Prix, I’m not being in the film!
CAROLYN: Fine. Little Martin …
(Martin groans in frustration.)
CAROLYN: … it’s your lucky day – your big break into the moving pictures. You sit in Douglas’ seat …
and face away from the camera.
MARTIN: This is the first officer’s seat. I’m not a first officer.
CAROLYN (sternly): Martin, will you sit down now!
(There’s the interesting sound of Martin’s backside plonking down into the seat. Fangirls’ imagination
goes berserk …)
CAROLYN: Thank you so much. So, Big Martin …
MARTIN (almost in tears): Please, Carolyn!
ARTHUR: We could call him Paramount Martin.
CAROLYN: What?
ARTHUR: ‘Biggest.’
CAROLYN: Fine. Paramount Martin. Now, we’ll start with a couple of seconds of the two of you flying;
then you turn in your seat and you say the lines.
SECOND MARTIN: Okay. How do I look like I’m flying?
CAROLYN: You put your feet up, play some stupid word game and gorge yourself on cheese.
SECOND MARTIN: Erm …
CAROLYN: No, no, forgive me. I was being satirical. Just grab the control column and look pleased with
yourself.
MARTIN: Of course, um, just a suggestion, but it might help if one of us was to say something to ATC?
Just request a weather report or something, to give it atmosphere.
CAROLYN: Yes, all right. Paramount Martin, do that.
SECOND MARTIN: All right. What should I say?
MARTIN (sarcastically, triumphantly): Oh dear, don’t you know what to say?
CAROLYN: Martin, give him something to say.
MARTIN: Or I could just say it myself.
CAROLYN: Okay, fine, but keep it short. And, go.
MARTIN: Shanwick, Golf Tango India, requesting the weather at Reykjavik.
CAROLYN (whispering): And Paramount Martin, go!
SECOND MARTIN (painfully stiltedly): Hello. A-and welcome. On the behalves of all of us. Here at M
and M Air – sorry! – MJN. Air! We know you have a wide choice. Of airlines and we … er … oh, oh,
sorry, it’s gone. Line?
DOUGLAS: Well, this is interesting.

SECOND MARTIN: Is everything all right, do you think?

MARTIN: Er, yeah, I’m sure it is.
SECOND MARTIN: Why do you think she rushed out like that? And why did she take the other chap
with her?
MARTIN (hurriedly): Don’t know. No idea. No idea at all.
(He clears his throat.)
MARTIN: So, Martin, um, tell me: do you … do you … do you get a lot of work? Are you a busy actor?
SECOND MARTIN: Well, there’s not a lot of work, no. It’s all rather quiet at the moment, I think, for
everyone.
MARTIN: Right, right, right. But you make a living.
SECOND MARTIN: Well, not entirely from acting, if I’m honest. I do a bit of taxi driving too, on the side
… and to some extent in the centre.
MARTIN: I see. And have you always wanted to be an actor?
SECOND MARTIN: Oh, always, always. Since I was five years old. Absolutely the only thing I’ve ever
wanted to be – and it’s so frustrating when you know, without any doubt at all, what you were put on this
Earth to do, and you just can’t seem to persuade anyone else.
MARTIN (quietly): I can imagine. So, um, how did Carolyn find you?
SECOND MARTIN: I’m on this website. I don’t normally get anything through it, but this was amazing!
She didn’t even ask me to audition.
MARTIN: Didn’t she? Fancy that. And-and – if you don’t mind me asking – how much is she paying you?
SECOND MARTIN: Well, actually, I agreed to waive my fee. Er, you know, it’s a good cause, isn’t it?
MARTIN: What? MJN? No – we’re not a good cause. We’re a terrible cause.
SECOND MARTIN (despairingly): I just wanted to do some acting! No-one ever lets me do any acting!
MARTIN: Listen, um, do you live in Fitton, Martin?
SECOND MARTIN: Yes.
MARTIN: D’you wanna … go for a drink some time?
SECOND MARTIN: Martin, look, I’m really sorry. I’m not …
(A slight pause, then Martin catches up.)
MARTIN (frantically): Oh, no, no! Nor am I, no! I mean, d’you wanna go, you know, for a … for a … for a
pint, er, yeah? A pint of, um, bitter … or, er, or-or stout.
SECOND MARTIN: Oh, yes! Yes, of course! I’d like that, Martin.
MARTIN: So would I … Martin.

CAROLYN: All right, let’s get it over with. (She draws in a long breath.) I need you to do the welcome.
DOUGLAS: I’ll do it if I can go to the Grand Prix.
CAROLYN: You can’t go to the Grand Prix.
DOUGLAS: Then you have your choice of the Martins.
CAROLYN: Oh, all right. You can …
(Portacabin door opens.)
HERC: Hello.
CAROLYN: Herc! What are you doing here?
HERC: I’ve come to take you to the opera.
CAROLYN: Well, that’s tomorrow.
HERC: No. Didn’t you get my message?
DOUGLAS: Oh dear. Forgetful old Martin.
CAROLYN: Hang on. Herc, say, “Hello, and welcome to MJN Air.”
DOUGLAS: What?
HERC: Hello, and welcome to MJN Air.
CAROLYN: A-ha!
DOUGLAS: No! Absolutely not!
CAROLYN: Herc, are you doing anything tonight?
HERC: Yes, I’m taking you to the opera.
CAROLYN: Yeah, well, I’m afraid you’re not doing that because I’m going to Rotterdam, so I wonder:
would you mind coming with me, popping on a fancy dress uniform and recording MJN’s welcome
message?
DOUGLAS (appalled): No!
(Herc chuckles.)
HERC: Oh. Oh, why not? Sounds rather fun.
CAROLYN: Douglas unfortunately can’t do it because of his crippling shyness.
HERC (insincerely): Oh, how sad. If only we could give the poor man the gift of self-confidence.
DOUGLAS: You’ve … you’ve made your point, Carolyn. I’ll do it. I’m happy to do it. (Grimly) Please.
CAROLYN: Well, thank you, Douglas, but actually I think I prefer Herc’s voice.
DOUGLAS: What?! Oh, rubbish.
(He turns on his smoothest voice.)
DOUGLAS: We hope you have a pleasant flight.
(Herc clears his throat.)
HERC (smoothly): We do hope you relax and enjoy your flight.
DOUGLAS (cranking up the smoothness): Please, do relax and have an absolutely splendid flight.
HERC (going into full-on knicker-melting mode): You simply must have the most awfully lovely super-
scrumptious flight.
CAROLYN: All right, stop, both of you, before I drown in syrup! Douglas, if I were to be gracious enough
to allow you the favour of providing the MJN welcome message, what is my quid pro quo?
DOUGLAS (tetchily): Fine. I won’t go to the Grand Prix.
CAROLYN: Ah, but you forget: you were never going to the Grand Prix, so what are you going to do for
me?

CAROLYN: All right. Everybody ready? I hereby present MJN Air’s first – and, please God, last – major
motion picture. Arthur, press ‘Play’.
ARTHUR: Okay! Action!
(Twinkly music begins to play.)
DOUGLAS (on the recording): Hello. I’m First Officer Richardson. Thank you for choosing MJN Air. We
wish you a peaceful and comfortable flight. Your security is very important to us, so please watch the
following safety demonstration carefully, even if you are a frequent flier.
CAROLYN: And who better to take us through it than …
DOUGLAS (on the recording): Hallo. I’m your steward, Dougie.
(Carolyn, Martin and Arthur cheer.)
DOUGLAS: Oh, God.
DOUGLAS (on the recording): I’m the first officer’s identical twin brother. MJN Air – proud to be a family
business. Before we take off, please give me your full attention as I demonstrate the safety procedures
aboard this aircraft.
MARTIN (full of giggles): You definitely have our full attention, I promise you that!
ARTHUR: You look great in my uniform, Douglas! Even the hat!
MARTIN (giggling): Especially the hat!
CAROLYN (shushing them): We’re missing it!
DOUGLAS (on the recording): When instructed, place your lifejacket over your head, pass the tapes
around your waist and tie securely in a double bow at your side.
CAROLYN (giggling): What’s that fruit I’m thinking of – like a grapefruit, but even bigger and more
yellow?!
MARTIN (almost incoherent through his laughter): A melon!
(They collapse in giggles.)
DOUGLAS (on the recording): … until you are outside the aircraft. To inflate, pull the red toggle sharply.
(There’s a hiss on the recording as Dougie’s lifejacket inflates. The viewers cheer.)
CAROLYN: Beautifully done, don’t you agree, Herc?
HERC: Oh, absolutely. Couldn’t have done it better myself – and under no circumstances would have
tried.
DOUGLAS (irritably): Yes, can we turn it off now?
CAROLYN: No, certainly not. This is the best bit.
DOUGLAS (on the recording): There is also a light, and a whistle for attracting attention.
CAROLYN (deliberately stilted): But, Dougie, I don’t understand. How does the whistle work?
(On the recording, Dougie blows the whistle. The viewers cheer in delight.)

SEASON 3 – EPISODE 6: St Petersburg

(Bing-bong)
CAROLYN (over cabin address): Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be landing in St Petersburg. We
do hope you enjoyed your visit to Saint-Tropez; and to those of you who managed to find a luxury yacht
to your liking, we rejoice at your success. And to those of you who remain tragically un-be-yachted, our
hearts go out to you at this difficult time. Oh, and because someone asked me earlier, let me assure you
that the cabin crew like to think of ourselves as your hosts and would be insulted to be offered a tip.
(Slight pause.)
(Bing-bong)
DOUGLAS (over cabin address): The pilots, however, like to think of themselves as your pilots. Please
slide your insults under the flight deck door.

This week, St Petersburg!

(Flight deck door opens.)
DOUGLAS (a little breathless): Exterior checks completed.
MARTIN: That was very quick.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Well, at six a.m. in St Petersburg in February, one does not tend to dawdle. It’s
definitely our plane and the wings are on it – that’ll do me. Now, Carolyn – can I have the keys to the
drinks cupboard? I need some vodka.
CAROLYN: Why, certainly, Douglas. The perfect pre-flight treat for a man who hasn’t drunk for a decade.
And can I tempt you with a little heroin to follow?
DOUGLAS: Seriously, Carolyn, it’s important.
MARTIN: What on earth do you need vodka for?
DOUGLAS: Well, on the walk-round, though brief, I did notice one small problem with the otherwise
entirely airworthy plane.
MARTIN: Yes?
DOUGLAS: It has an Arthur stuck to the side of it.
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: Apparently he couldn’t open the hold door with his thick gloves on, so he took one off, and
now his hand is frozen to the door handle.
CAROLYN: Oh, stupid boy!
(Jingle of keys as she tosses them to Douglas.)
CAROLYN: Here.

(Footsteps.)
ARTHUR (high-pitched and shivering): Oh, hello, chaps. Glad you came back. Cold, isn’t it?
CAROLYN: Why vodka, Douglas? Can’t you use hot water?
DOUGLAS: If you want to encase his hand in ice, yes. Alcohol has a much lower freezing point, so you
can use it as a lubricant.
(Sound of pouring liquid.)
DOUGLAS: There you go, Arthur.
ARTHUR (sighing with relief): Ohh. Thank you, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Now, put your glove back on and come inside.
CAROLYN: Douglas, this is our best Stolichnaya.
DOUGLAS: Mmm. Doesn’t it smell good?
ARTHUR (his voice muffled by something): Er, Douglas? Small problem. I was tryin’ to put my glove
back on, so I just …
DOUGLAS: … put the keys in your mouth. Of course you did. Carolyn – vodka please.

MARTIN: Post take-off checks complete.

DOUGLAS: Thank you, Martin.
(Intercom on.)
DOUGLAS (into intercom): How is Arthur?
CAROLYN (over intercom): Sore-lipped and accidentally drunk.
ARTHUR (drunk and slurring): Should just stop being hurting now.
CAROLYN: I can see the next three hours are going to fly by on gilded wings.
DOUGLAS: Have fun.
(Intercom off.)
DOUGLAS: All right, then, Martin. Rhyming Journeys.
MARTIN: Hmm?
DOUGLAS: Vienna to Siena.
MARTIN: Oh, right. Okay …
(Long pause.)
MARTIN: Err …
DOUGLAS: Poole to Goole.
MARTIN: Good one.
(Long pause.)
MARTIN: Err …
DOUGLAS: Aruba to Cuba.
MARTIN: Oh, give me a chance! Oh! York to New York!
DOUGLAS: Yyyess. Ish. Or York to Cork.
MARTIN: Oh, damn! All right, um … Paris to … (murmuring quietly to himself) … Baris, Caris, Daris,
Faris …(Louder) Oh! Or how about Peterborough to …
(There’s an explosion. Martin cries out in surprise. An alarm starts bleeping insistently.)
DOUGLAS: Christ! Engine fire, number two engine.
MARTIN: Oh God! Er, engine fire check list, number two engine.
DOUGLAS (utterly professional): Engine fire check list, number two engine, Captain. Number two thrust
lever?
MARTIN: Yes.
DOUGLAS: Closed. Number two fuel control switch?
MARTIN: Yes, yes!
DOUGLAS: Number two fuel control switch to cut-off. Number two fire handle check?
MARTIN: Yes!
DOUGLAS: Number two fire handle pulled.
(The alarm stops bleeping.)
DOUGLAS: Number one extinguisher fired, stopwatch started. Fire bell cancelled.
MARTIN (into radio): Mayday, mayday. Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, suspected bird strike. We have
one engine on fire. Request immediate return and priority landing St Petersburg.
ATC (over radio): Golf Tango India, roger your mayday. Continue as cleared, contact Pulkovo, approach
one two four decimal two.
MARTIN: Roger. One two four decimal two.
ATC: Good luck.
DOUGLAS: Fire is out, Captain. One two four decimal two is selected. Martin, do you want me to land
it?
MARTIN: No. I’ll do it.
DOUGLAS: Okay.

(On the ground, somewhere in the airport)

ARTHUR: Here you are, Skip. Nice hot cup of coffee.
MARTIN: Oh. (He takes a sip.) Aww! It’s cold!
ARTHUR: Nice cup of coffee.
MARTIN: It’s horrible!
ARTHUR: Cup of coffee.
MARTIN: I’m not even sure it is coffee.
ARTHUR: … Cup. How’re you feeling?
MARTIN: Feeling? Feeling. I’m feeling, feeling fine. Why-why d’you ask? I’m absolutely fine, fine. How-
how-how how are you? Sobered up, have you?
ARTHUR: Yeah, I have, actually. It turns out a really good cure for being drunk is when you’re on a plane
and then an engine explodes and you think you’re gonna die.
MARTIN: You should write in to the British Medical Journal.
ARTHUR: We didn’t die, though, did we?
MARTIN: No. No, no, we didn’t.
ARTHUR: Because you landed us, brilliantly.
MARTIN (laughing softly): Wasn’t bad, was it?
ARTHUR: It was amazing! Mum and me thought Douglas must have done it.
MARTIN: Oh, thanks a lot.
ARTHUR: No, but I mean, it was like he did it, but you did it.
MARTIN: All right. Thank you.
(Approaching footsteps.)
DOUGLAS: Martin.
MARTIN: Hello. What’s the news?
CAROLYN: Bird strike, as we thought.
DOUGLAS: A big one. Probably a goose.
ARTHUR: Oh no! Is it all right?
DOUGLAS: What, the goose? Yes, Arthur, it’s fine. It’ll have a bit of a headache, but a hell of a story for
the goslings.
ARTHUR: Phew!
CAROLYN: The engine, however, is a write-off.
MARTIN: Yes, I thought it might be when I noticed that it was on fire. How much?
CAROLYN: What, to replace it? Well, about a quarter of a million pounds.
(Martin whistles.)
MARTIN: That’s a lot.
CAROLYN: It is a lot, isn’t it? I think it definitely qualifies as a lot.
MARTIN: I-I mean presumably we’re insured?
CAROLYN: Oh, yes, up to the hilt – for public and passenger liability, so should the goose’s lawyers ever
track us down and demand restitution, we can pay them off without a second thought. The actual plane,
though – that’s down to me.
ARTHUR: Hey! Douglas said the goose was all right!
CAROLYN: Yes, well, he lied. Neither goose nor GERTI are all right. So, I’m afraid this is it, boys. You
know how I’m always saying one little thing could be the end of MJN Air? Well, this is one
absolutely massive thing – and … it’s all over.
ARTHUR: But … can’t we sell GERTI?
CAROLYN: Well I hope so. We’re gonna have to.
ARTHUR: Ah, okay. And then just buy another plane with the money.
CAROLYN: No, Arthur! If we’re very lucky indeed, we might be able to sell GERTI and, with the money,
buy an icecream van.
ARTHUR: Wow!
CAROLYN: Not seriously. (Irritably) Oh, go and get us all coffee.
ARTHUR: Right-o!
(He walks away.)
MARTIN (quietly): I’m … I’m sorry, Carolyn.
CAROLYN (sighing): Well, we had a longer run than anyone expected, and if we had to go, at least this
is landing on Mayfair with a hotel.
DOUGLAS: So, what now? Can we help?
CAROLYN: I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to try and find a way of selling an ancient decrepit old plane
that’s just been badly beaten in a fight with a goose. Anyone got any ideas?
MARTIN: I suppose you could sell it for parts.
DOUGLAS: Or, there’s always …
CAROLYN (instantly): No.
DOUGLAS: Really?
CAROLYN: He’s not having it.
DOUGLAS: He really wants it.
CAROLYN: That is exactly why he’s not having it. I am not giving him the satisfaction.
MARTIN: Who?
DOUGLAS: Every year, Carolyn gets a call from her ex-husband and former owner of GERTI, trying to
persuade her to let him buy it back off her.
MARTIN: Every year? Why does he want it so much?
CAROLYN: He is unbearably rich. It used to be his favourite toy and he hated that I got it in the divorce.
It’s not that he wants it; he just wants me not to have it.
DOUGLAS: Well, the thing is, Carolyn: at the moment, you also want you not to have it.
(Approaching footsteps.)
ARTHUR: Coffees. Not have what?
CAROLYN: GERTI.
ARTHUR: Ah, are you still worrying about that?
DOUGLAS: It’s still nagging at the back of our minds, Arthur, yes.
CAROLYN: Arthur, listen to me: I’m serious. We are going to have to sell GERTI, straightaway, and we
won’t be able to buy another plane, so this is the end of MJN Air.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. (Nonchalantly) Okay.
CAROLYN: What do you mean, “okay”? This really is going to happen. Do you understand that?
ARTHUR: Yeah, but it won’t, though, will it?
CAROLYN: Why not?
ARTHUR: Well, Douglas will sort it out.
CAROLYN: How?
ARTHUR: I don’t know. He’ll think of something clever, like he always does.
CAROLYN: Yes, but this isn’t just a little fiddle over a bottle of wine or a bunch of orchids. It’s a quarter
of a million pounds. I really don’t think he will this time.
ARTHUR (grinning): Yes he will.
DOUGLAS: Arthur, I won’t. Look, no-one has a higher opinion of me than I do, but even I simply do not
have the power to conjure up a quarter of a million pounds from nowhere.
CAROLYN: So, there’s nothing else for it, is there?
DOUGLAS: I don’t think so. Sorry. And I’ve had to put her in a heated hangar, so the longer we wait, the
more expensive it gets.
CAROLYN: Fine. (She sighs.) I’ll call him.
MARTIN: Now? It’s still five in the morning in Britain.
CAROLYN: Oh yes. Well, that’s something.
(She walks away.)
ARTHUR: Who’s she calling?
DOUGLAS: Your dad.
ARTHUR (anxiously): What? Dad? Why?
MARTIN: Well, we think he’s our best chance of selling GERTI.
ARTHUR: No! No, he can’t have GERTI.
DOUGLAS: Why not?
ARTHUR: He just shouldn’t have her. A-and anyway, then we wouldn’t have her.
DOUGLAS: Arthur, we keep telling you: we can’t afford to fix her.
ARTHUR (irritably): Yes, but I keep telling you: you’ll do something clever and it’ll be all right.
MARTIN: What’s he like, then – Mr. Shappey?
DOUGLAS: I don’t know. I’ve never met him either. What’s he like, Arthur?
ARTHUR: Ooh, he’s, errr … He’s, errr … He’s, errr …
DOUGLAS: Good Lord, Martin, I think you’ve broken him.
ARTHUR: No-no-no – it’s just that he’s, errrrr … He’s, errr …
DOUGLAS: I think … I think what we may be witnessing here is Arthur attempting to describe something
with an adjective other than “brilliant”.
ARTHUR: Yeah, no-no, I-I wouldn’t say he was br… I mean, obviously everyone’s br… (He pauses
momentarily.)No, he’s not brilliant. He’s, errr … he’s all right.
MARTIN: God!
DOUGLAS: Yes.
MARTIN: He must be awful!
(Approaching footsteps.)
CAROLYN: I’ve spoken to him. He’s coming straight here.
MARTIN: What, now?
CAROLYN: Yes. He’s flying himself over in his private jet. He’ll be here in about three hours.
MARTIN: God, at least he’s keen.
CAROLYN: Oh yes, he’s keen.
ARTHUR (anxiously): Dad’s coming here, now?
CAROLYN: Yes.
ARTHUR (getting more panic stricken): Oh. Okay. Right. Okay. What shall I do? Shall I get him a
present? What does he like? I’ll get him … a present. I-I-I’ll get something from the duty free.
CAROLYN: You don’t need to get him a present, Arthur.
ARTHUR: No, no, of course not. Stupid, stupid. Although, I might anyway, er, just to be sure. A
TOBLERONE! I can get him a Toblerone! Brilliant! Problem solved! Don’t panic, we’ll be fine. It’s all right.
Okay, I’ll go and get one now!
MARTIN: But he won’t be here for three hours!
ARTHUR: Yeah, but, still, though, er, good to have it all ready in advance. Okay, bye!
(He hurries away.)
DOUGLAS: Good lord.
MARTIN: I’ve never seen him like that.
CAROLYN: That’s his dad for you. All right, you two scram as well. Get some lunch – on the company
card.
MARTIN: Really?!
CAROLYN: Well, you did land a plane on one engine. That deserves a treat.
DOUGLAS: Excellent! Well, I think I saw a sushi place …
CAROLYN: No, I meant at the crew canteen. You can have sushi when you land it on no engines.

(In the canteen; cutlery scraping on plates)

MARTIN (with his mouth full): Oh, I’ve got a good one.
DOUGLAS: Oh yes?
MARTIN: Yup. Lublin to Dublin.
DOUGLAS: Ooh, close. I’m afraid it’s pronounced ‘looblin’.
MARTIN (exasperated): Oh for goodness’ sake. Looblin to Dooblin?
DOUGLAS: You can have it if you like.
MARTIN: No.
DOUGLAS: Lisbon to Brisbane?
MARTIN: Yes, very good. Er … Okay, Kent to … now, you have to trust me, but I’m pretty sure there’s a
place near where we used to camp in Wales called Llent.
DOUGLAS: Fair enough. Kent to Llent. And of course we could go via Brent … and Gwent … and
Stoke-on-Trent.
MARTIN (irritably): Oh, yes, all right. How was your soggy brown thing?
DOUGLAS: It lived up to its promise. How was your bowl of grey?
MARTIN: About the same. Do you think she’s really going to sell it to him?
DOUGLAS: I think she’d better. No-one else is going to buy it.
MARTIN: Right, so you’re actually not …
DOUGLAS: What?
MARTIN: Nothing. Just … You really don’t have a secret plan up your sleeve?
DOUGLAS: Oh, Martin, not you as well. No, I really don’t.
MARTIN: No-no-no, I didn’t think you did. Just checking, that’s all.
(Approaching footsteps.)
GORDON (Australian accent): ’Scuse us, are these taken?
(A chair scrapes as he pulls it out from the table.)
MARTIN: Er, no, no.
GORDON: Ah, great. Thanks, mate. I’m Gordon. This is Tommo.
TOMMO (Australian accent): All right?
DOUGLAS: Martin, Douglas.
GORDON: Nice to meet you. You flying in or flying out?
MARTIN: Well, er, neither, really. We’re sort of staying put.
GORDON: Oh, right. What for?
DOUGLAS: Mainly the cuisine.
GORDON: Ah! Ah, God, yeah! I’m pretty sure this steak remembers Stalin!
(They laugh.)
MARTIN: How about you?
GORDON: Ah, just got in. Bloody hell – the crosswind, eh? Hairiest landing we’ve had for years, wasn’t
it, Tommo?
TOMMO: Yep.
GORDON: So, did you …?
(Approaching footsteps.)
CAROLYN: Well, this is cosy.
GORDON: Ah.
CAROLYN: Are we all getting on terribly well?
MARTIN: Oh, hello, Carolyn. Er, this is Gordon.
CAROLYN: Yes, we’ve met before, in fact. Hello, Gordon. How necessary to see you.
MARTIN: Oh!
GORDON: Hi there, Carolyn. Are these boys your crew, then? Hi, guys. Gordon Shappey …
CAROLYN: Don’t shake his hand.
DOUGLAS: Carolyn!
CAROLYN: Fine, all right.
GORDON: Good to meet you. So, you must be Captain Crieff.
MARTIN: No, I … yes! How did you know?
GORDON: Well, the captain’s hat is a bit of a giveaway.
DOUGLAS: You’d be surprised.
GORDON: Oh, Carolyn, this is Tom. He’s my chief engineer.
TOMMO: All right?
GORDON: I brought him and his boys with me so they can have a look over the old girl.
CAROLYN: Absolutely not.
GORDON: Well, you know they kinda have to, so I know exactly what’s wrong with her.
CAROLYN: The only thing wrong with her – as I told you on the phone – is that we used one of her
engines to make a goose smoothie. Otherwise she is fine.
GORDON: I-I mean I can’t really buy a plane without Tommo giving it the once-over, can I?
TOMMO: No.
DOUGLAS: Carolyn, that is reasonable.
CAROLYN: Fine. If you must.
GORDON: Great! Okay, so I’ll give you a call in a few hours when they’re done. So, let’s take a look at
the poor old girl. You ready, Tommo?
TOMMO: Yep.
DOUGLAS: Follow me, gentlemen.
(The three of them get up and walk away.)
MARTIN: He didn’t seem too bad.
CAROLYN: Oh, didn’t he? You took a shine to him, did you, Martin?
MARTIN (hurriedly): No, no, not at all. No, he didn’t seem too bad … but … he … obviously is … awful.

DOUGLAS: Guildford to Ilford.

MARTIN: Hong Kong to …
(Long pause.)
MARTIN: … itself?
DOUGLAS: You mean, from Hong to Kong?
MARTIN: No, forget it.
(Approaching footsteps.)
MARTIN: Oh, hello, Carolyn. Any news?
CAROLYN (sighing): No.
MARTIN: What are they doing out there?
DOUGLAS: I can’t imagine. There’s simply not enough engineering in GERTI to spend four hours
looking at. Apart from the engines, she’s mostly gaffer tape and string.
(More approaching footsteps.)
ARTHUR (morosely): Hi, guys.
DOUGLAS: Oh dear. Still no luck?
CAROLYN: What’s the matter?
DOUGLAS: Alas, an exhaustive search of St Petersburg airport duty free has yet to turn up anything in
the shape of a Toblerone.
ARTHUR: Triangular.
DOUGLAS: Yes.
ARTHUR: I don’t understand it. I’ve never been to an airport that didn’t have Toblerones. I mean, okay,
sometimes they don’t have the white ones or the black ones, but not even to have the normal ones!
MARTIN: So, Arthur, I’ve just realised: you’re half Australian.
ARTHUR: Yeah!
CAROLYN: Technically.
DOUGLAS: That certainly explains a lot about the relentless cheeriness.
ARTHUR: Yeah.
(He goes into an appallingly bad Australian accent.)
ARTHUR: And it’s also why I can do such a good Orstralian accint!
DOUGLAS: Two things, Arthur: Australian accents aren’t genetic; and you can’t do one.
ARTHUR (still in the dreadful accent): Well, you’re entitled to your opinion, sport!
CAROLYN: Arthur!
ARTHUR (normal accent): Sorry. Also it’s good because it means I can play cricket for either England or
Australia, whichever need me.
MARTIN: Can you play cricket?
ARTHUR: Don’t know. I’ve never tried.
DOUGLAS: Arthur, you’re almost thirty. Don’t you think you’re leaving it a little late to embark upon your
career as an international sportsman?
ARTHUR: Not really. Shane Warne is forty-one.
MARTIN: Yes, but he’s retired. I mean, that’s like saying Geoffrey Boycott’s in his seventies.
ARTHUR: You see? Well there you are, then.
(Carolyn’s phone trills a text alert.)
CAROLYN: Ah-ha! Gordon’s finally finished. He’ll meet us in the office in half an hour.
ARTHUR: Oh no! I still haven’t got him anything!
CAROLYN: Arthur, you really don’t need to …
ARTHUR (running off): Yeah, I’ll meet you there!
CAROLYN: Ready?
MARTIN: We’re ready.
DOUGLAS: Yes.
CAROLYN: Arthur?
ARTHUR (in a plaintive whimper): Yeah.
CAROLYN: All right. (She calls out.) You can come in.
GORDON (opening the door): Hi, guys. Hello, Arthur.
ARTHUR (anxiously): Hi! Hi, hi, er, Dad. (He laughs.) Er, that’s not funny – that’s who you are. Hi. Er,
um, I-I got you something. They didn’t have any Toblerones, incredibly, so I got you some gin, because
it’s called Gordon’s gin and you’re called Gordon! So whenever you want to know which gin is yours, it’ll
be the one with your name on it! And … a-a-and whenever you want to know what your name is, it’ll be
written on your gin.
GORDON: Well, that was a very nice thought, Arthur. Thank you.
ARTHUR (almost breathless with nerves): You’re welcome!
CAROLYN: So, have your henchmen had a good look round now? They’ve been out there long enough.
GORDON: Engineers, rather than henchmen, and yes, I’m sorry it took so long.
CAROLYN: I should think so.
GORDON: You see, I gave them a couple of notebooks and asked them to take a note of everything that
was wrong with her. After two hours they said they were gonna need more time; after three they said
they were gonna need more notebooks. So hence my very generous offer to you now of five hundred
pounds.
CAROLYN: What?! Oh, oh, I see, and you’ll take on all MJN’s debts.
GORDON: No, no, sweet of you to offer to throw them in but no. I meant I’d give you five hundred
pounds and you give me GERTI.
CAROLYN: Five hundred pounds? It is an aeroplane, not a second-hand Ford Fiesta! A hundred
thousand pounds and there is no room for negotiation.
GORDON: All right, bye.
(He gets up from his chair.)
CAROLYN: It’s no good going through all this charade with me, Gordon. Remember: I know how fast
you scrambled to get out here. I’ve seen how eager you’ve been to buy it all these years. I know how
much you want it.
GORDON: Oh yeah, I want it. And you know why I want it?
CAROLYN: Yes! You want it out of spite because you hate the fact I got it in the divorce.
GORDON: No, no, no. Oh, wait – yes. That’s exactly why. And not so much that you took it off me, even
though you couldn’t fly the bloody thing; not even that you then used it to play airlines with one pilot who
failed his CPL four times …
(Martin squeaks indignantly.)
GORDON: … and one who got thrown out of Air England for having sticky fingers. Yeah, I’ve looked you
up. No, it’s just because you called your airline My Jet Now. As soon as I heard that, I said to Hayley –
she sends her love, by the way, though obviously she doesn’t mean it – “Right,” I said, “I’m having that
back off her.” And you know what I’m gonna do with it? I’m gonna break it up for parts and sell the rest
as scrap – except for the tail fin. That I’m gonna ship back to England and hang above my mantelpiece
… after, of course, I’ve re-sprayed it NYBJAMS – Not Your Bloody Jet Any More, Sweetheart. So, me
and the guys are going to a hotel now. I’ll be back in this office nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Either
you’re there and you take five hundred quid for it, like you know you have to, or you’re not and I fly home
happy in the knowledge that you’re shafted.
(Scraping of a chair as he stands up.)
ARTHUR: Dad?
GORDON: What?
ARTHUR: You’ve forgotten your gin.
GORDON: I don’t drink cheap gin. You keep that.
(The door opens and closes. There’s a long silence.)
DOUGLAS: And yet you say the marriage wasn’t a success?

(In a taxi.)
ARTHUR: You promise? You absolutely promise?
CAROLYN: Of course we’re not going to sell it to him. After that? We can have it broken up for parts
ourselves, if it comes to that.
DOUGLAS: Yes. Odd he didn’t realise that.
CAROLYN: He just wanted the satisfaction of making his little speech, that’s all. He never wanted the
plane.
DOUGLAS: But you always said he desperately wanted the plane.
CAROLYN: Well, clearly I was wrong. Now, Douglas – as soon as we get to the motel, I want you to help
me write my little speech for tomorrow morning.
MARTIN: What about me?
CAROLYN: Well, all right – you too, but I want it to be unbearably superior and snide, so obviously
Douglas is my primary source. Douglas, what are you doing?
DOUGLAS: I’m just checking the taxi’s not being followed.
MARTIN: Why?
DOUGLAS: So we can turn it round and go back to the airport.
CAROLYN: Why?
DOUGLAS: Oh, just on a whim.

(Footsteps.)
DOUGLAS: And through here.
(Doors open.)
MARTIN: So we are going to GERTI’s hangar.
DOUGLAS: Maybe.
CAROLYN: Oh, for God’s sake. Just tell us what’s going on.
DOUGLAS: Isn’t it obvious?
CAROLYN: I will punch you, Douglas. I will literally punch you on the nose.
DOUGLAS: Well, ask yourself why – if he wants it so much – he made you an offer you’d obviously
never accept; why it took his engineers so long to check her over; and, of course, why he manipulated
you into letting him book the office in MJN’s name.
CAROLYN: This isn’t telling us, Douglas – this is aggravated not telling us.
DOUGLAS: All right. He never wanted to buy her. He’s going to steal her.
MARTIN: What?! No he’s not.
DOUGLAS: No, he’s not now, granted, but he’s going to try.
CAROLYN: But he can’t.
DOUGLAS: Yes he can. He’s qualified to fly her, he’ll have door keys from when he used to own her,
and since the airport now thinks he’s part of MJN, they’re hardly going to stop him paying our bills or
filing a flight plan.
MARTIN: But her engine’s broken.
DOUGLAS: I bet you a fiver it’s not. And …
(The door to the hangar squeaks open.)
DOUGLAS: Ah. I’ve won a fiver. You see? That’s what his engineers were up to. It’s like the story of the
old shoemaker. I forget the finer details, but I believe it concerns an old shoemaker who left a knackered
old aeroplane in his workshop overnight and then magical mice – or it may have been pixies – came
along and bolted a new engine to it.
CAROLYN: Then why are we here? Why aren’t we at the airport manager’s office, or-or-or the police?
DOUGLAS: Oh, I think we can keep this in the family. All we need to sort him out for ourselves is a
camera, a spanner, the asbestos gloves from the galley and, most of all, this.
(Clink of a bottle of alcohol.)

CAROLYN: Cheddar to Jeddah.

DOUGLAS: Nice!
MARTIN (quietly to himself): Firmingham … Girmingham … Vlermingham …
DOUGLAS: From Troon to the moon.
(The sat comm bleeps.)
DOUGLAS (into sat comm): Arthur?
ARTHUR (secretively, over sat comm): Yes, hullo, it’s me. He’s just passed me. He’s going towards the
hangar.
DOUGLAS: Well done, Arthur. Stay where you are and keep watch. We’ll come and get you later.
(Sat comm off.)
DOUGLAS: Okay, he’s coming. Martin.
MARTIN: Hmm?
DOUGLAS: You hide in the back of the cabin; I’ll hide in the loo; and you, Carolyn, you get to hide in the
flight deck locker.
CAROLYN: I’m not getting in there!
DOUGLAS: I promise you it’ll be worth it.
(The hangar door squeaks loudly.)
DOUGLAS: Quickly! That’s the hangar door.

(Gordon unlocks GERTI’s door.)

GORDON (into his phone): No, Tommo, you’re still breaking up. Can you hear me now?
TOMMO (over phone): Yep.
GORDON: Well, I said she can try, Tom, but there’s plenty of evidence that she invited me here to
negotiate a sale. If I say we did a cash deal, she’s gonna need a lot of lawyers to prove otherwise, and
she’s broke. Okay, I’m in the plane. Better go.
(Radio on.)
GORDON: Tower, this is Golf Tango India. D’you have my flight plan in the system yet?
ATC: Golf Tango India, yes, we do. Cleared to taxi to runway two eight left.
GORDON: Right. Here we go.
(He immediately cries out in pain. Carolyn opens the locker door.)
CAROLYN: Everything all right, Gordon?
GORDON: My hands! What the hell have you done?
CAROLYN: Oh dear, that does look nasty. Douglas! Could you come in here a minute?
(Flight deck door opens.)
DOUGLAS: Certainly, Carolyn. What can I do for you?
(Gordon groans in pain.)
DOUGLAS: Oh, hello, Gordon. Look at you there, sitting in someone else’s aircraft with your hands on
the control column, for all the world like you were about to steal it. I might get a picture of that.
(He takes a picture.)
DOUGLAS: And another. Don’t take your hands away.
(He takes another picture.)
GORDON: I can’t take my hands away! They’re stuck to it! What have you done? What the hell have you
done?
DOUGLAS: What, to the metal casing of the control column? Nothing really – just unbolted it, took it out
of the hangar, left it in the minus-nineteen degree cold for twenty minutes, carried it back in with
asbestos gloves, reattached it. Why? Do you find you have rather sticky fingers?
GORDON: Get me off it! Get me off it! My fingers are burning!
DOUGLAS: Yes, they will do that at first.
(Gordon whimpers.)
DOUGLAS: Don’t worry, though – they’ll go numb soon, and eventually, of course, drop off.
GORDON (frantically): Get me off it!
CAROLYN: Nothing easier. All we need is some alcohol – low freezing point, you see. Now, do you have
any alcohol on you?
GORDON: No!
DOUGLAS: Funny – I could have sworn I saw Arthur give you some. Well, let’s see if we can rustle
something up for you.
(Gordon groans.)
DOUGLAS: Martin!
MARTIN (coming into the flight deck): Yes, Douglas? Can I help?
DOUGLAS: Mr. Shappey finds he has use for some alcohol. Do you happen to have his bottle of gin?
MARTIN: Right here, Douglas! I know it’s his, because it’s got his name on it. Have you decided you’d
like it after all, Mr. Shappey?
GORDON: Give me it here!
MARTIN: Certainly. And, er, what’s your present for him?
GORDON: What?
MARTIN: It’s usual to exchange presents, isn’t it? What have you got for Arthur?
GORDON: Nothing!
MARTIN: Oh dear. How embarrassing for you.
DOUGLAS: Oh! I know! Why don’t you give him the engine you’ve just had bolted onto this aircraft’s
wing?
CAROLYN: Oh, yes! He loves engines! What a thoughtful gift!
GORDON (desperately): Yes, fine, all right!
DOUGLAS: You freely give – before God and the cabin voice recorder – Arthur Shappey the starboard
engine of this aircraft in exchange for this bottle of gin?
GORDON: Yes! Now pour it over me!
CAROLYN: With pleasure.
(Liquid splashes over Gordon. He gurgles.)
GORDON: Over my hands!
CAROLYN: Whoops!
(More liquid splashes over Gordon. He groans as his hands come free.)
CAROLYN: Better? Good! And now, Gordon …
GORDON (angrily): What?
CAROLYN: Get off My Jet Now!

(Footsteps along tarmac.)

MARTIN: Okay: Porthcawl to Montreal.
DOUGLAS: Martin! That’s a perfect one! Well done!
MARTIN: Via Donegal!
CAROLYN: Yes!
MARTIN: And the Albert Hall!
DOUGLAS: Oh, bravo! How long have you been secretly working on that?
MARTIN: Er … all day.
CAROLYN: Well, it was worth it!
(They stop walking.)
DOUGLAS: Ah. Behold the ever-vigilant watchdog!
MARTIN (affectionately): Ahh. Seems a shame to wake him.
DOUGLAS: No it doesn’t. I want to go home.
CAROLYN (sing-song): Arthur.
ARTHUR (waking up): Mmm?
CAROLYN (sing-song): It’s time to go home, dear.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. How are we doing that?
CAROLYN: In GERTI.
ARTHUR: Oh yeah? She’s fixed, is she?
CAROLYN: Yes.
ARTHUR: And you didn’t have to pay for it.
CAROLYN: No.
ARTHUR: So MJN can carry on as normal?
CAROLYN: Yes.
ARTHUR: Okay. Good.
CAROLYN: Aren’t you interested in how all that happened?
ARTHUR: Did Douglas do something clever and now everything’s fine?
DOUGLAS: Yes.
ARTHUR: There you are, then. Exactly what I said all along. I wish you lot would listen to me
sometimes!

SEASON 4 – EPISODE 1: Timbuktu

This week, Timbuktu!

MARTIN: Do take your time, Douglas. Still everything to play for. (Gleefully) I’m only twenty-six points
ahead of your three points! (He giggles.) But-but I have every confidence you’re about to
come roaring back!
DOUGLAS: Yes, all right.
MARTIN: But I am gonna have to press you for an answer, I’m afraid.
DOUGLAS (sulkily): I don’t know. At twenty thousand feet, I suppose about two hundred knots?
MARTIN: Ooh, what a pity! It’s a lovely guess, but I’m afraid the answer on the card was two hundred
and four knots! I win again! So that’s Martin on twenty-nine; Douglas … oh! Still on three … (he
chuckles) … as we head into round two.
DOUGLAS: That was one round?!
MARTIN: Oh, don’t worry, don’t worry. Round two’s much more fun. We say a fond farewell to the flight
manual …
DOUGLAS: Thank God.
MARTIN: … and we welcome instead our very good friend the operations manual!
DOUGLAS (protesting): No! No, I’m sorry, I’m done.
MARTIN: No-no, fair’s fair, Douglas. You promised if I joined in with Flight Deck Buckaroo, I could pick
the next game.
DOUGLAS: But I hate this game!
MARTIN: Yes, and I hate Flight Deck Buckaroo.
DOUGLAS: How can you hate Flight Deck Buckaroo? It’s a terrific game! And it’s educational.
MARTIN: There is nothing educational about seeing who can disable the most instruments without
setting off the recorded warning.
DOUGLAS: Yes there is! You find out all the things you don’t really need! Like altimeters.
MARTIN: No, this is educational. So, welcome to round two of Beat the Manuals!
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Hello, chaps. Any teas or coffees?
DOUGLAS: Oh, thank God!
ARTHUR: Oh. Sorry, Douglas, you should have rung.
MARTIN: Actually, we’re fine, Arthur. We-we’ll be landing in twenty minutes.
ARTHUR: Oh, right-o. Oh, and a message from Mum. Er, she says how long until we land?
DOUGLAS: … Right.
(Flight deck door opens again.)
CAROLYN: Drivers, how long ’til we land?
ARTHUR: I’m asking them, Mum!
CAROLYN: Not quickly enough.
MARTIN: We’ve just started the descent, Carolyn, so about twenty minutes?
CAROLYN: Excellent. Now, Douglas, I am having lunch with Herc. Can you give Arthur a lift home?
DOUGLAS: Sorry. Happy though I always am to pick up the pieces around your hectic love life, I’m
afraid as soon as we land I’m driving to Twickenham. I’ve got tickets for the rugby World Cup final.
ARTHUR: Cup final? But … doesn’t that mean it’s Birling Day?
MARTIN: Oh, Carolyn. Haven’t you told him?
ARTHUR: Told me what?
MARTIN: Arthur, there isn’t going to be a Birling Day this year.
ARTHUR (high-pitched in indignation): What?! Why not?!
MARTIN: Because this year the final is in Twickenham.
ARTHUR: Well, so?
CAROLYN: So, Mr. Birling lives in Sussex. To get to Fitton he would have to drive through Twickenham;
and while he certainly has more money than sense, I don’t think anyone has that much more.
ARTHUR (disappointed): Oh, no. I love Birling Day.
MARTIN: Me too.
DOUGLAS: Do you?
MARTIN: Well, no, but I could do with the money.
DOUGLAS: True. And I wouldn’t say no to a free bottle of Talisker.
CAROLYN: The bottles of expensive whisky I provide for Mr. Birling’s exclusive use are not ‘free’,
Douglas. They are stolen from me.
DOUGLAS: And therefore free to me.
MARTIN (into radio): Fitton Tower, this is Golf Echo Romeo Tango India established on the ILS.
FITTON ATC (over radio): ’Ello, ’ello, is it a bird, is it a plane? No! It’s … oh, no wait, it is technically a
plane.
DOUGLAS: Hello, Karl.
MARTIN: Fitton Tower, please confine air traffic communications to standard phraseology.
KARL: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Wind two eighty at eight; Runway three-six clear to land; all the usual
jazz.
MARTIN: Roger. Clear to land, three-six.
KARL: So-o-o, did you have a lovely time in Luton?
DOUGLAS: How could one not? It’s a palace of pleasure.
MARTIN: I mean, seriously, you’re really not meant to just chat on this thing!
KARL: Sorry, Martin. Oh! One last thing, though: did any of you order a furious posh man?
MARTIN: What?
KARL: Only one’s arrived for you – very cross, very drunk. Phil poured him into your Departure Hut.
CAROLYN: Lounge.
KARL: Sorry: Lounge. Anyway, hope you like him! Ta-ra!
(Radio off.)
CAROLYN: That-that sounds like Mr. Birling!
DOUGLAS: It does rather, doesn’t it? By the way, cabin crew, prepare for landing.
ARTHUR: Oh, right, I’ll go and …
(Sound of GERTI’s tyres squealing as she touches down and brakes.)
DOUGLAS: Too late.

(Portacabin door opens.)

CAROLYN: Mr. Birling!
MR. BIRLING (very drunk and slurring): Ah-ha! There you are at last.
CAROLYN: What are you doing here?
MR. BIRLING: What am I doing here? The question is: what were you doing not being here … (he
mumbles incoherently) … before now, eh?
CAROLYN: But we’re not expecting you. You-you-you don’t have a booking.
MR. BIRLING: Booking?! Don’t need a booking! Where else are you lot gonna be – on another job?
CAROLYN: Well, yes.
MR. BIRLING: Don’t be silly. Now then – now you’re finally here, listen. Err, Timbuktu.
CAROLYN: What about it?
MR. BIRLING: Is-is it a real place?
CAROLYN: Yes!
MR. BIRLING: Ah! Told you so, stupid woman!
CAROLYN: I beg your pardon?
MR. BIRLING: I didn’t mean you’re a stupid woman, you silly woman. I mean my awful wife. Have you
met my awful wife?
CAROLYN: I have met your wife, certainly.
MR. BIRLING: Well, that’ll be the awful one. I’ve only got one. I may be a fool, but I’m not a damned fool.
CAROLYN: No, I’m sure you’re not.
MR. BIRLING: And anyway, I’m not a fool. I knew where Timbuktu was, didn’t I?
CAROLYN: Did you?
MR. BIRLING: Well, I knew it was somewhere. That’s the point – I knew it wasn’t made-up
like some people thought it was, naming no wives. Well, where is it, anyway? China or somewhere
stupid?
CAROLYN: It’s in Mali, in the middle of Africa, on the edge of the Sahara.
MR. BIRLING: God, is it? How ghastly. Well, can’t be helped. I want you to fly me there.
CAROLYN: To Timbuktu? Why?
MR. BIRLING: Firstly, none of your business; secondly, to watch the rugby.
CAROLYN: But the rugby is in Twickenham.
MR. BIRLING: I know the rugby’s in Twickenham. I told my awful wife it was in Twickenham and she
said I had to stay and see her awful friends when they came round for her awful thing. And I said I
wouldn’t, and she said I must, and I said I wouldn’t, and she said I must, and I said I wouldn’t …
CAROLYN: Yes, I believe I’ve picked up the ebb and flow of the debate.
MR. BIRLING: And in the end she said I could watch it in Timbuktu for all she cares. So I’m going to.
CAROLYN: You’re going to fly to Timbuktu to spite your wife?
MR. BIRLING: That’s the idea, yeah, yeah. Fly to Timbuktu, take a picture to show awful wife who’s
boss, i.e. me, I am, find bar in airport, cheer on Wales to glorious victory over the Eyeties, get drunk, fly
home.
CAROLYN: Well, I can ask the crew if they would be willing to consider giving up their day off to, er …
MR. BIRLING: Oh, can’t we skip all that? I’ll give ’em a couple of grand each and pay you double
whatever you were gonna charge.
CAROLYN (instantly): We should be ready to leave within the hour, sir.

CAROLYN: All right, how are we doing? Where are the others?
DOUGLAS: Fine. Martin’s panically filing a flight plan, and I’ve sent Arthur into Fitton to buy a book
about Timbuktu.
CAROLYN: What on earth for?
DOUGLAS: He’s in a helpful mood.
CAROLYN: Yes, but why do you need a book?
DOUGLAS: I don’t. I need a temporary absence of Arthur in a helpful mood. And I have just given away
a ticket to watch the Cup Final in Twickenham in order that I can fly two and a half thousand miles to the
heart of Africa and watch it there.
CAROLYN (fake sympathetically): Oh, dear. Did the poor little pilot have to fly an aeroplane? (More
sternly)You’re getting paid, aren’t you, plus an enormous tip?
DOUGLAS: I know, I know. And a bottle of Talisker.
CAROLYN: No. Not a bottle of Talisker.
DOUGLAS: We’ll see, shall we?
CAROLYN: No. I mean there won’t be any Talisker to steal. I have to order in the twenty-five year old
stuff specially, and there’s no time.
DOUGLAS: Oh. Well, in that case, perhaps I can help. I happen to have a few spare bottles knocking
about … for some reason.
CAROLYN (hesitantly, reluctantly): Oh. Well. That would be very useful. Thank you.
DOUGLAS: Shall we say two hundred pounds a bottle?
CAROLYN: What?! No! I’m not paying you for the whisky you stole from me in the first place!
(Portacabin door opens.)
MARTIN: Guys, there’s a problem.
CAROLYN: Then solve it.
MARTIN: I can’t solve it.
CAROLYN: Have you tried to solve it?
MARTIN: No.
CAROLYN: Then you don’t know if you can solve it, do you?
MARTIN: There’s a civil war in Mali. So Timbuktu’s closed to all air traffic.
CAROLYN: … Right. So you can’t solve it.
MARTIN: Thank you.
CAROLYN: Douglas, can you solve it?
DOUGLAS: I appreciate your faith, Carolyn, but I … I’m not sure even I can broker a peace deal in a
civil war. Not in time for kick-off, anyway.
CAROLYN: Fine. I knew it was too good to be true. Who’s going to tell Birling?
MARTIN: Wait! Hang on – we can’t just give up!
CAROLYN: Well, you’re the one who said it was insolvable.
MARTIN: By me, not by you two. There must be something we can do. (He sighs.) Oh, I could really use
that two thousand quid.
DOUGLAS: I know, I know, but what can we do?
MARTIN: Well, I don’t … I don’t suppose … I don’t suppose there’s anywhere that’s a bit like Timbuktu?
CAROLYN: What, d’you mean also famous for being far away?
MARTIN: No-no-no, I didn’t mean that. I mean, like, it … as in … looks like it, a bit, if you didn’t really
know much about Timbuktu.
CAROLYN (surprised): Martin?!
DOUGLAS (impressed): Martin!
MARTIN: No, I know, I know, I didn’t mean it. I’m just … I’m just trying to, you know, come up with ideas.
DOUGLAS: No, Martin! That’s inspired!
MARTIN: Is it?
DOUGLAS: You’re a genius! An unexpectedly evil genius!
CAROLYN: You mean you know somewhere that we could …
DOUGLAS: Oh, plenty of places! There’s a little airfield on the island of Sardinia, for instance – Guspini.
It’sperfect! It’s on the edge of the second biggest desert in Europe, and the chap who runs it is an old
friend of mine.
MARTIN: Of course he is(!)
DOUGLAS: Couple of hundred Euros and I’m sure he’ll be only too pleased to be Timbuktuan for an
hour or two.Three hundred and the engineers can probably knock up a “Welcome to Timbuktu” sign.
MARTIN: No, but that’s fraud!
DOUGLAS (smugly): Isn’t it, though? That’s why I’m so delighted you suggested it.
MARTIN: I didn’t mean … I-I wasn’t seriously …
DOUGLAS: Oh, don’t spoil it!
CAROLYN: Douglas, look: it’s a nice idea, but we cannot possibly …
DOUGLAS: Look, Birling’s always roaring drunk by the time we land anyway, and all he wants is a room
to watch the rugby in and a sign saying, “Welcome to Timbuktu”, both of which Sardinia can provide –
and neither of which, incidentally, Timbuktu can provide.
CAROLYN: But won’t he be a bit suspicious that everyone speaks Italian?
DOUGLAS: Why would he be? Mali was under Italian rule for decades.
MARTIN: Oh. Was it?
DOUGLAS: Of course not. But if you didn’t know that, why would he? It’s a great idea, honestly! I don’t
know whether I’m more proud of you for thinking of it, or worried that I didn’t.
CAROLYN: I-I suppose if we got him really drunk …
DOUGLAS: That’s the spirit! And, of course, that’s where the twenty-five year old Talisker will come in so
handy.
MARTIN: Oh, no, please, you two – no Talisker stuff! Not if we’re actually gonna do this.
DOUGLAS: Would you care to take one bottle, madam, or two?

(Flight deck door opens.)

ARTHUR: Hi, chaps. Isn’t this exciting? I’ve always wanted to go to Timbuktu. It sounds brilliant – like a
cross between a …
DOUGLAS: No, wait. Let me guess. A cockatoo, obviously …
ARTHUR: Yes, yeah.
DOUGLAS: … and, um, errr … no, I give up.
ARTHUR: … and my friend Tim Buckley!
DOUGLAS: Of course! Silly of me!
ARTHUR: Oh, and I, er, I found that book you wanted, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: What book?
ARTHUR: About Timbuktu.
DOUGLAS: Oh, right. Yes, well, you hang on to that for now.
ARTHUR: Oh, okay. It’s about all of Africa really, but there’s a chapter on Mali and a page on Timbuktu.
I’ve nearly finished it.
MARTIN: The book?
ARTHUR: The page. It sounds amazing. I can’t wait to see it!
MARTIN: Yes, but, Arthur, has no-one told you? We’re not actually going to …
DOUGLAS (interrupting): … to see much of Timbuktu. I mean, it’s straight out, watch the rugby in the
airport, and back again.
ARTHUR: Well, yeah, but I bet at least I see some camels.
DOUGLAS: How much do you bet?
MARTIN (quietly): Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Never mind. Er, hadn’t you better go away and hoover something?
ARTHUR: Not really. We’re all ready to go.
DOUGLAS: Fine. Then go away and hoover nothing.
ARTHUR: Right-o!
(He leaves.)
MARTIN: So we’re not telling him about …?
DOUGLAS: What with him being the worst liar we know, I thought perhaps not.
MARTIN: Mmm.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: All right, he’s in. Do the briefing, Martin.
MARTIN (looking at paperwork): Right. Destination is Guspini, code named Timbuktu. For the avoidance
of doubt, crew should note that any time Timbuktu is referred to, Guspini is meant.
DOUGLAS: Yes. I believe we’re up to speed with the deception.
MARTIN: In the unlikely circumstance the actual Timbuktu is referred to, the name is to be repeated
twice.
DOUGLAS: How d’you mean?
MARTIN: Timbuktu-Timbuktu.
DOUGLAS: … means Guspini.
MARTIN: No! “Timbuktu” means Guspini; “Timbuktu-Timbuktu” means Timbuktu.
DOUGLAS: Oh, I see. But you only repeated it once.
MARTIN: I didn’t. I said “Timbuktu-Timbuktu”.
DOUGLAS: Exactly. You said it, and then you repeated it. If you’d repeated it twice, you’d have said,
“Timbuktu-Timbuktu-Timbuktu.”
(Martin groans.)
CAROLYN: Yes, excuse me, but I’m trying to run an airline here, not an owl sanctuary. Get on with it!
MARTIN: All right. The alternate is Palermo, code named Ouagadougou.
DOUGLAS: And if the real Ouagadougou is meant?
MARTIN: I really can’t imagine circumstances under which we’ll need to refer to the real Ouagadougou.
DOUGLAS: All right, but a good pilot is prepared for any eventuality, however …
MARTIN: ALL RIGHT! The code for the real Ouagadougou is Ouagadougou-Ouagadougou.
DOUGLAS: Thank God we’re not going to Baden-Baden.

(In flight.)
ARTHUR: Er, Mr. B?
MR. BIRLING: Go away.
ARTHUR: Yeah, will do. Er, but first, can myself draw yourself’s kindly attention to the sign that the
captain has kindly en-illuminated in regard to the fastenation of your seatbelt during the current highly-
unlikely event of turbulence?
MR. BIRLING: What?
ARTHUR: Could you do your seatbelt up?
MR. BIRLING: Certainly not! Do I look like a girl?
ARTHUR: You don’t at all look like a girl.
MR. BIRLING: Well then.
ARTHUR: Okay, well, it doesn’t really matter …
CAROLYN (calling from some distance away): Arthur!
ARTHUR: Right, yes, sorry, it does really matter these days.
MR. BIRLING: Since when?
ARTHUR: Since Mum said so.
CAROLYN (coming closer): Is there some problem, Mr. Birling?
MR. BIRLING: I don’t want my seatbelt on.
CAROLYN: Oh dear. Still, into every life a little rain must fall.
(Click.)
MR. BIRLING: Did you just …
CAROLYN: And now, to console you for your tragedy, can I get you a drink?
MR. BIRLING: Oh, well, um, perhaps a small whisky?
CAROLYN: By all means. Macallans, Johnnie Walker, or Glenlivet?
MR. BIRLING: What about my special whisky – the Talisker 25?
CAROLYN: Ah, yes. I’m afraid this trip was at such short notice, we didn’t have the chance to buy that in.
ARTHUR: Ooh, Mum …
CAROLYN: Er, thank you, Arthur. Not now.
MR. BIRLING (angrily): What?! You realise the only reason I fly on your toy aeroplane is that you carry
the whisky I like!
ARTHUR: Yeah, really, Mum, it’s important.
CAROLYN: Thank you, Arthur. Code Red.
MR. BIRLING: You’re not the only people who could take me to Timbuktu, you know.
CAROLYN: You’d be surprised.
ARTHUR: Mum, I really think on this occasion, I-I should over-ride the Code Red! Because you’re
forgetting that Douglas …
CAROLYN (loudly): Code Red, Arthur. Go away, go away fast, and go away now.
ARTHUR: Right, yes, will do, yeah.
CAROLYN: I will talk to you in the galley.
ARTHUR (nervously): No-no, you don’t have to. It’s fine – I get it now.
CAROLYN (firmly): No, I will talk to you in the galley.
ARTHUR (plaintively): … Okay.

CAROLYN: Right. First of all, you never over-rule a Code Red.

ARTHUR: No, I know, Mum. I’m sorry.
CAROLYN (sternly): Yes. Why do you never over-rule a Code Red?
ARTHUR (sighing): Because the Code Red is there to stop me when I’m being too helpful, and I can’t
stop being too helpful by being more helpful.
CAROLYN: Exactly. Good!
ARTHUR: Yes, but this time I wasn’t being too helpful! It’s just, Mr. Birling wanted the Talisker, and we
want him to be happy, and you’d forgotten Douglas brought some Talisker in case you needed it!
CAROLYN: I hadn’t forgotten, Arthur. That is not why I asked him to bring it.
ARTHUR: Why, then?
CAROLYN: Because today, Arthur, is the Birling Day I steal the Talisker from Douglas Richardson!
ARTHUR: Ohhh!
CAROLYN: Ahhh! You get it now?
ARTHUR: Yeah! I completely get it! … Because normally it’s the other way around.
CAROLYN: Yes!
ARTHUR: Ooh, I do get it!
CAROLYN: So, do you know where Douglas has stashed it?
ARTHUR: Ooh, no – where?!
CAROLYN: I don’t know! I’m asking you!
ARTHUR: Why are you asking me? I don’t know.
CAROLYN: Yes, but I didn’t know you didn’t know until I … Oh, go and read your book.

DOUGLAS: Okay, countries beginning with …

MARTIN: What? No! Douglas, we don’t have time for games. Can you just concentrate, please.
DOUGLAS: All right, Captain.
(Martin sighs.)
DOUGLAS: … On anything in particular?
MARTIN (anxiously): On the crime! On getting away with the crime!
DOUGLAS: I’d prefer to use the word “scheme”.
MARTIN: Yes, well, I’d prefer to use the word “hat”. But it’s not a hat; it’s a crime!
DOUGLAS: Martin, relax. I’ve done things like this hundreds of times.
MARTIN: Yes, and you got sacked from Air England.
DOUGLAS: Only once. I almost always didn’t. Trust me: it’s a perfectly good scheme and it’s all going to
be fine.
(Martin groans.)
MARTIN: … Oh my God. What if he looks out of the window?
DOUGLAS: Mmm?
MARTIN: Well, when we’re landing. What if he sees we’re landing on an island? Africa’s not an island!
Right …
(Bing-bong)
DOUGLAS: Er, Martin. Are you about to make an announcement telling Mr. Birling not to look out of the
window?
MARTIN: Of course I am!
DOUGLAS: Just maybe run that past your internal psychologist first.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: All right, drivers, where are we?
DOUGLAS: About an hour out from Timbuktu.
CAROLYN: What? But I thought the whole point was …
DOUGLAS: Although of course still a fair way from Timbuktu-Timbuktu.
CAROLYN: Oh, for heaven’s sake.
DOUGLAS: And how is Mr. Birling?
MARTIN (anxiously): Is he awake? Is he drunk? (In a stage whisper) Does he suspect?
CAROLYN: Oh, calm down, Martin! Course he doesn’t suspect. Until a few hours ago, he thought
Timbuktu was either Chinese or fictional! However, he is fast sobering up.
MARTIN (panic-stricken): What? Oh, no-no-no-no-no-no! He needs to be drunk! That’s the key to the
wholecrime!
DOUGLAS: Well, you know what might help with that.
CAROLYN: Yes, I do. So – and can we please do this with the bare minimum of gloating – I will buy the
Talisker.
DOUGLAS: An excellent choice. Madam could not have made a wiser decision.
CAROLYN: I said the bare minimum.
DOUGLAS: That’ll be three hundred pounds.
CAROLYN: Three hun… You said two hundred before.
DOUGLAS: Ah, that was the price in Fitton. Alas, the supply is scarcer up here.
CAROLYN: Fine. Three hundred.
DOUGLAS: Excellent.
CAROLYN: Well, get the bottle out, then.
DOUGLAS: Madam seems a little unfamiliar with how the whole buying process works.
CAROLYN: Oh, I’ll pay you when we get back.
(Douglas laughs sarcastically.)
DOUGLAS: Madam is a humourist.
MARTIN: Guys, please. Can we try and focus on the main …
CAROLYN: I don’t carry that sort of cash on trips.
DOUGLAS: Yes you do.
CAROLYN: Well, show me the bottle and I’ll give you the money.
DOUGLAS: Better yet, give me the money and I’ll get out the bottle.
CAROLYN: I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want it.
DOUGLAS: Just as you please. But I warn you: the prices are only going to rise.
MARTIN (increasingly frantically): Seriously, please, will both of you forget the whisky and concentrate
on getting away with the CRIME?!
CAROLYN: Martin, for someone who can’t bear to hear the word “Sardinia”, you are making very free
with the word “crime”.

(Door to the plane opens.)

DOUGLAS: So, Martin, what do you think of Timbuktu?
MARTIN (quietly, nervously): Well, actually, it-it does look quite, you know, middle-of-Africa-ish, doesn’t
it, actually, doesn’t it?
ARTHUR: What does?
MARTIN: Er, th-this does.
ARTHUR: Oh, yeah, well I can explain that, Skip. Er, Timbuktu is, in fact, in the middle of Africa, so, er,
that’s why it looks like this.
MARTIN: Thank you, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Don’t mention it. I read the whole page of that book. I’m basically an expert on Timbuktu now.
CAROLYN (helping Mr. B down the steps): Right, there we go, Mr. Birling. Easy does it.
MR. BIRLING: Can’t you turn that down?
CAROLYN: The sun? Not very easily, I fear.
GIANCARLO (Italian accent): Hello! Hello!
MR. BIRLING: Who’s this, now?
DOUGLAS: A-ha!
GIANCARLO: Welcome to Timbooktoo.
MR. BIRLING: Yes, yes, all right.
GIANCARLO: Because that is where you are, and we are glad to ’ave you ’ere in our glorious country of
Timbooktoo.
DOUGLAS (quietly): Town.
GIANCARLO (quietly): Town?
DOUGLAS (quietly): Town.
GIANCARLO (louder): … town of Timbooktoo. See here our welcoming sign.
MR. BIRLING: What sign?
GIANCARLO: That one. The one that says Welcome to Timbooktoo.
MR. BIRLING: Mmm. Well …
GIANCARLO: No, no! No, have a proper look! We spent ages on that.
MR. BIRLING: Now then, you … What’s your name?
GIANCARLO: Giancarlo …
DOUGLAS (interrupting): Is it, though?
GIANCARLO: Oh, no-no-no-no, it’s, uh, it’s, uh, er …
DOUGLAS: Quick as you like.
GIANCARLO: Mandela.
DOUGLAS (resignedly): Terrific.
MR. BIRLING: Right, Mandela, you’ve got the rugby here, have you?
GIANCARLO: Well, er, of course. Italy’s first rugby World Cup final in history – everyone in the country is
watching.
MR. BIRLING: Really? Why?
DOUGLAS: Ah, well, you have to remember Mali was part of the Italian Empire for a long time. The ties
run deep.
MR. BIRLING: Oh. Was it?
ARTHUR: Er, no, Douglas, you’re thinking of France. Mali was in the French Empire.
DOUGLAS: No, Arthur …
ARTHUR: Yeah, no, definitely. It was in my book.
DOUGLAS: Well, Mr. Birling, I think that concludes the greetings.
MR. BIRLING: Something odd’s going on here.
MARTIN (frantically): No it isn’t!
DOUGLAS: Not at all.
MR. BIRLING: Where you fellows have got lucky is that the match is about to start, so I don’t care.
DOUGLAS: An attitude that does you great credit. Shall we escort you to the crew room?

(Sound of rummaging in GERTI’s flight deck.)

CAROLYN: Right.
(Locker door opening and closing.)
CAROLYN: No, no, no. Too obvious.
(More rummaging. The flight deck door opens.)
MARTIN: Carolyn?
(Carolyn yelps in surprise.)
CAROLYN: Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?
MARTIN: It’s my flight deck. What are you doing here?
CAROLYN: It’s my aeroplane. Now, help me search for Douglas’ Talisker.
MARTIN: Carolyn, please! Forget about the bloody Talisker!
CAROLYN: The flight deck’s the only place he’s had time to hide it. It’s not in the locker or in the foot
wells or under the seats … Maybe it’s inside one of the seats.
(She starts to rummage.)
MARTIN: No it’s not.
CAROLYN: What?
MARTIN (hesitantly): … It’s … probably … not in the seats.
CAROLYN: You know where it is.
MARTIN (hastily): Okay, I’m going back to the crew room now.
CAROLYN (sternly): Tell me where it is, Martin.
MARTIN: Carolyn, if I’ve learned anything after five years at MJN Air, it’s never to get involved with
Talisker on Birling Day. Goodbye.
[Transcriber’s note: Yes, he does actually say “MGN Air”. Shame on you, Benedict!]
CAROLYN: I’ll give you a hundred pounds.
MARTIN: I can’t. Douglas’d make my life a misery.
CAROLYN: As will I if you don’t.
MARTIN (plaintively): I’ve got to go!
(Flight deck door closes.)
CAROLYN (loudly): Two hundred pounds!
(Flight deck door opens again.)
MARTIN: Two hundred?
CAROLYN: Yes.
MARTIN (sighing): It’s in the avionics bay.
CAROLYN: Where?
MARTIN: Under the floor hatch.
CAROLYN (lifting the hatch): I never knew there was a hatch.
MARTIN: No, well, he didn’t think you did.
(Knocking on the cabin door.)
MARTIN: Quick! Quick-quick-quick!
CAROLYN: Ah, got it!
MR. BIRLING (from outside): Hello! Are you in there?
(Sound of Mr. B trying to open the door.)
MARTIN: Mr. Birling?
MR. BIRLING (rattling the door): Open up, damn you!
(Martin opens the door.)
MR. BIRLING: Ah.
ARTHUR: Hi! It’s us!
DOUGLAS: Why was the door locked?
MARTIN: Mr. Birling! What’s the matter?
CAROLYN: Why aren’t you watching the rugby?
MR. BIRLING: Because rugby … is dead.
MARTIN: Oh … dear.
DOUGLAS: Italy are leading thirty-eight to three at half time. Mr. Birling feels he’s seen enough.
MR. BIRLING: Yes, and heard enough of that awful Mandela chap singing.
DOUGLAS: Mr. Mandela has managed to overcome the natural apathy of the neutrals.
MARTIN (anxiously): Oh, dear, I-I am sorry, Mr. Birling. Still, home early for us, then. Er, we-we’re
actually nearly ready to go, so if you’d like to …
ARTHUR: Aww, do we have to go?
MARTIN: Yes we do.
ARTHUR: Only, if we’ve got some spare time, can’t we take Mr. Birling to see the sights?
MARTIN and DOUGLAS and CAROLYN (simultaneously): No.
ARTHUR: Oh! We could borrow Mr. Mandela’s car!
MARTIN and DOUGLAS and CAROLYN (simultaneously): No!
MR. BIRLING: I don’t want to see the sights.
MARTIN: There – he doesn’t want to see the sights.
CAROLYN: So, everyone back on board.
ARTHUR: But-but you could take some more pictures to show your wife!
MR. BIRLING: Oh, there is that, I suppose.
MARTIN: No. I-I’m sorry, Mr. Birling. I’m gonna have to put my foot down. We really don’t have time.
(Short silence.)
MR. BIRLING: I want to see the sights.
DOUGLAS: Well played, Martin.
ARTHUR: Brilliant! I’m gonna get to see some of Africa after all.
DOUGLAS: Yes, Arthur. Yes you are.

(In a car.)
ARTHUR: … Yellow car.
MR. BIRLING: Can’t you do something to stop him saying that?
CAROLYN: Trust me: there is no power on Earth.
ARTHUR: It’s funny, though: it was another Fiat.
DOUGLAS (sarcastically): Was it really?
ARTHUR: Yeah! Loads of Fiats, aren’t there? I had no idea they were so popular in Timbuktu.
MARTIN: Arthur …
ARTHUR: It’s just, my book was saying that most transport is still camels and donkeys, but I haven’t
seen a camel all journey!
DOUGLAS: I did warn you you might not.
ARTHUR: I’ll call out if I see one.
MR. BIRLING (grumpily): Do not do that!
ARTHUR: No, no, it’s fine. I don’t mind. I’ll make it part of the game. Are camels yellow? They’re sort of
yellow-ish, aren’t they – kind of yellowy-browny. Is there a name for that colour?
CAROLYN: Yes, dear. It’s called ‘camel’.
ARTHUR: Oh, brilliant! So if I see one, I can just say, “Camel camel!”
DOUGLAS: Good idea. And that way we’ll know it’s a real camel.
CAROLYN (tetchily): Douglas.
ARTHUR: Oh dear, the road’s getting really steep, isn’t it?
CAROLYN: Yes, well, these, er, rough desert pathways … it’s-it’s not surprising they’re a bit, um …
ARTHUR: Well, it is a bit surprising, Mum, because the book was saying the Sahara’s one of the flattest
places in the world!
MARTIN (nervously): You’ve really been getting into that book, haven’t you?
ARTHUR: Yeah. Well, Mum’s been saying for years I don’t read enough, so I thought I’d …
MARTIN (exasperated): … you thought you’d start now. Great. Okay, I’ve got a game: let’s see who can
stay the most shut-up for longest.
ARTHUR: No, I’m terrible at that. No, you lot play, though. I’ll keep you amused. … Oh, look! Another
pizzeria! They really love their pizza in Mali, don’t they? That’s the fourth one we’ve seen.
CAROLYN (resigned): Yes, and you’ve drawn attention to every single one.
ARTHUR: Yeah, well, because it’s so surprising! ’Cause like I told you, Mali was part of
the French Empire, so you’d think, if anything, there would be more …
(The car screeches to a halt.)
MARTIN: Oh dear. The car’s stuck.
ARTHUR: Is it? It doesn’t seem …
MARTIN: Yes! It’s stuck! Everyone out and help push. Not-not you, Mr. Birling, of course. You’re-you’re
our guest.
(They get out of the car.)
MARTIN (in an urgent whisper): Arthur, please. SHUT UP!
ARTHUR: What? I didn’t say anything.
DOUGLAS: You’ve done nothing but say things since we started.
ARTHUR: Oh, you mean my interesting facts about Timbuktu.
CAROLYN: Arthur, we are not in Timbuktu. We are in Sardinia, which is an island in Italy.
(Stunned silence, then Arthur gasps.)
ARTHUR: … I thought we were …
CAROLYN: Yes, I know you did; and so does Mr. Birling, so please, stop loudly pointing out how much
unlike the centre of Africa everything is.
(The car door opens.)
MR. BIRLING: All right. What on earth is going on?
CAROLYN: No, no. No, no. Everything’s fine. It’s all fixed.
MR. BIRLING: How is it fixed? You haven’t done anything. You’ve just stood there talking. No, there’s
something very odd going on here. The idiot boy is right. This is a very big hill for a desert. What’s going
on?
MARTIN and DOUGLAS and CAROLYN (simultaneously): Nothing.
MR. BIRLING: You’re very quiet suddenly.
(Arthur whimpers.)
MR. BIRLING: I said, what’s going on?
(Arthur whines.)
MR. BIRLING: What. Is. Going. On?
ARTHUR (hysterically, rapidly): Nothing! Nothing’s going on! We’re in Timbuktu, and everything’s totally
normal and you can get pizzas anywhere these days, and camels are really shy actually and it’s nothing
like Sardinia, which I’ve never been to, and I’m not going to, and I’m definitely not in now!
CAROLYN: Arthur! Stop talking!
ARTHUR (high-pitched, rapidly): I don’t think I can remember how!
CAROLYN: Someone else say something! Anything!
MARTIN (panic stricken): Er, er, er, er … Oh, look over there, Mr. Birling! From up here, you can see the
sea!
MR. BIRLING (grimly): The sea?
DOUGLAS: Well, maybe not quite anything.

(Back in GERTI.)
MARTIN (tiredly): Fuel balanced, Douglas.
DOUGLAS (flatly): Good-o.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Well, we’ve come to an arrangement.
MARTIN: Yes?
CAROLYN: He’s not going to sue us.
MARTIN (sighing with relief): Good.
CAROLYN: … or pay us.
DOUGLAS: Ah.
MARTIN: So essentially we’ve taken a multi-millionaire on a free day-trip to the Mediterranean.
CAROLYN: That’s about the size of it, yes.
DOUGLAS: Well, it’s good to give something back, isn’t it?
MARTIN: I’m really sorry, Carolyn.
CAROLYN: No, it’s all right. You only finished what Arthur started.
DOUGLAS: Yes. It’s been a topsy-turvy sort of Birling Day, hasn’t it? We flew away from the rugby; Mr.
Birling got soberer and soberer; and Arthur ruined everything with his knowledge and erudition.
ARTHUR: I did, didn’t I?
MARTIN: I don’t think he meant you to be proud.
ARTHUR: No, no. … I am a bit, though.
CAROLYN: Oh, and, er, one other thing, Douglas. I stole the Talisker from you.
(Clink of a bottle.)
DOUGLAS: Carolyn! How did you find it?
MARTIN: I told her, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: You told her?
MARTIN: Yes.
DOUGLAS: I see. And how much did she pay you for that little betrayal?
MARTIN: Two hundred pounds.
(Short pause.)
MARTIN: Here’s your hundred.
DOUGLAS: Thank you very much.
CAROLYN: What?
MARTIN: Really sorry, Carolyn. But what I’ve actually learned after five years at MJN is never to side
against Douglas on Birling Day.
DOUGLAS: So I’m rather afraid, Carolyn, that while you may have stolen the Talisker, you didn’t steal …
oh, could you pass me the operations manual, Martin?
MARTIN: Certainly, Douglas.
(Sound of the manual being moved, followed by a clink of another bottle.)
DOUGLAS: … the Talisker-Talisker.

SEASON 4 – EPISODE 2: Uskerty

This week, Uskerty!

(Distant sound of an airport tannoy bing-bing-bong.)

ARTHUR: Morning, chaps! Look! I’m an Irish guy!
DOUGLAS: Arthur, in three days in Cork, have you seen anyone wearing a green top hat with a
shamrock on it?!
ARTHUR (in a diabolical Irish accent): Oi have noww, to be shure!
MARTIN: What’s that?! Irish pirate?
ARTHUR (in his equally diabolical Australian accent): It’s not up there with my Orstralian, I admit! (In his
normal voice) Er, anyway, Mum’s just coming. Er, she says don’t file the flight plan yet.
MARTIN: I already have.
ARTHUR: Okay. Er, ooh, and Douglas, um, storm warning.
DOUGLAS: Ah. Thank you, Arthur. What gale force?
ARTHUR: Er, what does it go up to again? Is it, is it ten?
DOUGLAS: Twelve.
ARTHUR: I’d say … eight.
DOUGLAS: Oh dear.
MARTIN: No, I-I-I’ve just picked up the weather. There’s lots of rain, but no storms.
DOUGLAS: We’re not talking about the weather.
(Approaching footsteps.)
CAROLYN: Martin, have you filed the flight plan?
MARTIN: Yes, I’ve …
CAROLYN: Why? I specifically told Arthur to tell you not to.
MARTIN: But he’s only just …
CAROLYN (interrupting): I don’t want to hear your excuses. Go and change it.
(Martin sighs in exasperation.)
CAROLYN: We’re stopping off in Kilkenny on the way home.
MARTIN: Kilkenny? Why?
CAROLYN: Let me answer your question with a question: what does it say in big letters on GERTI’s tail?
MARTIN: MJN.
CAROLYN: And what does that stand for?
MARTIN: My Jet Now.
CAROLYN: Whose Jet Now?
MARTIN: Your Jet Now.
CAROLYN: And that’s why we’re going to Kilkenny. Be ready in twenty minutes.
MARTIN: But …
CAROLYN (walking away): Twenty minutes!
(Martin sighs again.)
ARTHUR: That’s an eight, isn’t it?
DOUGLAS: Definitely. Gusting to ten.

(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS (over cabin address): Lady and gentleman, welcome aboard this MJN flight from Cork to
Kilkenny. That means a distance of about seventy miles, which means we have a flight time today
roughly equivalent to that of a gently-lobbed Frisbee. Well, we’re nearing the top of our ascent now, so
I’ll leave you to relax and enjoy the flight, but the captain will speak to you a little later on when we’re
nearing our destination.
(Immediately: bing-bong, bing-bong.)
MARTIN (over cabin address): Lady and gentleman, we’re about to begin our descent into Kilkenny. I do
hope you had a restful flight, maybe got some sleep, enjoyed a movie or two …
(Flight deck door opens.)
ARTHUR: Er, hi chaps, er, Mum says … It basically boils down to ‘Please could you stop?’
DOUGLAS: She said, ‘Please’?!
ARTHUR: No, I added that. Er, but I took out quite a lot of other stuff.
DOUGLAS: I see. It’s a definite Force ten now, then, is it?
ARTHUR: I think it is, yes.
MARTIN: And d’you know why we’re stopping in Kilkenny?
ARTHUR: Yeah, yeah. She, er, she wants to buy Herc a birthday present.
MARTIN: A present? That she can only get from Kilkenny? What is it?
ARTHUR: I don’t know. But actually it’s from a little village outside Kilkenny.
DOUGLAS: So she expects us all to wait around while she goes shopping for her boyfriend.
ARTHUR: Okay, can I just ask, Douglas – if you say that to her, er, don’t call Herc her boyfriend, don’t
call it shopping, and also probably don’t say any of it.

(Squeal of GERTI’s cabin door opening. Footsteps walk down the steps, then stop. As Carolyn speaks,
her voice echoes.)
CAROLYN (calling out): Er, h-hello? Hello-o! Anyone home?
ARTHUR: This is a bit spooky, isn’t it? D’you think it’s haunted?
DOUGLAS: I wouldn’t have thought so, Arthur, no.
ARTHUR: Well, you know, everything’s more ancient in Ireland, isn’t it?
DOUGLAS: Not the airports.
CAROLYN (calling out): Hello-o!
(A door opens.)
GERRY (Irish accent): Hello, hello! Ah, you’ll be MJN Air.
CAROLYN: That’s right, yes.
GERRY: Grand. Hello! Welcome to Kilkenny. I’m Gerry; I’m the Airport Manager. Please make yourself at
home. Anything you want, just …
CAROLYN: I’d like a taxi.
GERRY: Sure. That’s no problem at all. And if you’d like a coffee first, we’ve got a little café …
CAROLYN: I’d like a taxi, straightaway please, to a village called Uskerty.
[She pronounces it US-ker-ty.]
GERRY: Ah, Uskerty.
[He pronounces it Us-KER-ty.]
GERRY: Oh, yes, I think I know it. My sister’s best friend from school had a …
CAROLYN (interrupting): Did she really? What a small world. What a super story, yes. So tell them to
pick us up straightaway.
GERRY: Right you are. If you’d just like to follow me, I’ll quickly stamp your passports.
CAROLYN: Why? Has Kilkenny declared independence?
GERRY: Sorry?
CAROLYN: We’ve come from Cork!
GERRY: Oh, right! Still, if you wanted to get them stamped anyway as a souvenir …
ARTHUR: Ooh, yes please!
CAROLYN: No, thank you. A taxi, please, straightaway, to Manor Farm, Uskerty.
[She still pronounces it wrong.]
CAROLYN: And can we book a take-off slot in one hour’s time.
GERRY: Sure; but don’t feel you need to rush off. So long as you’re gone before dusk …
CAROLYN (interrupting): An hour’s time, please. Douglas, Arthur: wait here; Martin: you’re coming with
me.
MARTIN: Huh? Why?
CAROLYN: I need you to help carry something.
MARTIN: I don’t want to carry …
CAROLYN (interrupting): Martin. Only Father Christmas cares about what you want. I am telling you
what you are going to do.

(A clock chimes.)
MRS HERLIHY (Irish accent): Now then: will you have another piece of seed cake?
CAROLYN: Oh, that’s very kind of you, Mrs Herlihy, but no.
MRS HERLIHY: Are you sure? I make it myself, you know.
CAROLYN: Yes, I thought you probably did. Now, I don’t want to rush you, but perhaps we could see …
MRS HERLIHY: Oh, of course, yes. I-I’ll fetch him for you.
(Door closes. Martin sighs.)
CAROLYN: Martin.
MARTIN: Hmm?
CAROLYN: Put this in your pocket.
MARTIN: What? No! What is it?
CAROLYN: My seed cake. Quick!
MARTIN: No! Why!
CAROLYN: It’s revolting!
MARTIN: But … then leave it.
CAROLYN: No! I don’t want to offend her.
MARTIN: Oh, oh, suddenly you’re worried about offending people!
CAROLYN: People who own extremely-hard-to-find objects I want to buy from them, yes. Whiny pilots,
not at all. Here.
(Sounds of struggling and indignant noises from Martin as he tries to stop her shoving her cake into his
pocket.)
CAROLYN: Stop fussing!
(Door opens.)
MRS HERLIHY: Here we are. Isn’t he a beauty?
CAROLYN: Ooh, my, yes. Isn’t he just?
MRS HERLIHY: His name’s Finn McCool the Third … well, it was.
CAROLYN: Herc’s going to love him.
MARTIN: Er, is he?
CAROLYN: Of course he is. (To Mrs Herlihy) It’s a present for a friend.
MRS HERLIHY: Oh, how lovely! Is he very fond of sheep?
CAROLYN: Oh, enormously. Yes, especially stuffed.

(Sound of a passport being stamped.)

GERRY: There we go.
ARTHUR: Brilliant!
GERRY: D’you want one on the other page too?
ARTHUR: Oh, yes please.
(Sound of the passport being stamped again.)
GERRY: There you go. Now, Douglas, how about you?
DOUGLAS: It’s kind of you, but I’m fine.
GERRY: Right you are. Now then, what else can I show you?
DOUGLAS: Actually, Gerry, I-I don’t mean to be rude but I’ve been a pilot for thirty-four years. I’m pretty
familiar with airports.
GERRY: Just the security gate, then. It’s all brand new! Only I went on a special course and everything,
and I’ve only used it maybe twice.
ARTHUR: Brilliant! I’ll have a go!
GERRY: Great!
DOUGLAS: Really, Arthur?
ARTHUR: Yeah! I love going through the X-ray gate! It’s a bit like a game show, isn’t it? There’s always
that moment of ‘Will I make the buzzer go? Will I make the buzzer go?! Yes! I didn’t make the buzzer go!’
Or ‘Ohhh, I made the buzzer go!’
GERRY (laughing happily): All right, then! Well, follow me!
DOUGLAS: I think I might leave you to it and …
ARTHUR: Oh, come on, Douglas! It’ll be fun! We’ll make a game of it! Like, one of us could put
something metal in our pocket and see if the machine can tell which one of us it is!
DOUGLAS: I think the machine can tell that. That is the whole point of the machine.
ARTHUR: Yeah, well, let’s see. There’s lots of things that they’re the whole point of me that I don’t do.
DOUGLAS: Like what?
ARTHUR: Floss. Don’t tell Mum.

(Outdoors.)
CAROLYN: Well, where’s the taxi gone? I told her I’d only be ten minutes.
MARTIN: Mmm, yes you did, half an hour ago.
CAROLYN: All the more reason she should be here now. Move Finn McCool in a bit. He’s getting damp.
MARTIN: So am I!
CAROLYN: Yeah, no doubt, but I didn’t just pay eighty-five Euros for you.
MARTIN: You didn’t pay anything for me.
CAROLYN: Exactly.
MARTIN (sighing): So, dare I ask you why you’ve bought your boyfriend a stuffed sheep?
CAROLYN: He is not my boyfriend.
MARTIN: Yeah, yeah, fine: your partner.
CAROLYN: He is certainly not my partner.
MARTIN: Well, what is he, then?
CAROLYN: He is … a man I know.
MARTIN: Right. Well, then, why you’ve bought your man you know a sheep.
CAROLYN: Oh, didn’t you know? Herc hates sheep.
MARTIN: Hates them?
CAROLYN: Yes! Loathes them! He’s got a sort of phobia about them.
MARTIN: And you’ve gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to get him the worst possible birthday
present you can imagine.
CAROLYN: Exactly. Isn’t it perfect?!
MARTIN: Err, in … in a way.
(A car pulls up.)
CAROLYN: Ah. Here you are. Where did you go?
BREEDA (Irish accent): Where did you go? You said ten minutes.
CAROLYN: Yes, but I am the customer, and the customer is always right.
MARTIN: That’s a bit of a policy change for you, isn’t it?
CAROLYN: Be quiet. And get Finn McCool inside before he gets any wetter.
BREEDA: Hang on. What’s that?
CAROLYN: Oh, I’m sorry. Do you not have these in Ireland? It’s called a sheep.
MARTIN: Carolyn.
BREEDA: We do have them, as it happens, yes. But we keep them in fields, not in other people’s cars.
CAROLYN: Yes, well, I’m afraid Finn McCool’s days in the fields are behind him. Martin, see if you can
wedge him in with all the …
BREEDA (interrupting): I’m saying you can’t carry it in this taxi.
CAROLYN: Don’t be ridiculous.
MARTIN (urgently): Carolyn!
CAROLYN: What?
MARTIN: Look, just-just let me.
(He puts on an awful Irish accent which possibly even Arthur could do better. Maybe.)
MARTIN: Hello, dere! Hello and hi to you! I’m-I’m Martin – Marty to m’friends. Sorry about my friend. She
has, er, the devil of a temper on her!
CAROLYN (indignantly): I do not!
MARTIN (still in the shocking accent): … as you can see. But I was just wonderin’, given that the olde
sheep is more a piece of furniture now, whether you might not be … all roight with dat?
BREEDA: Where are you from?
MARTIN (in his normal accent): Wokingham.
BREEDA: Right, so, look, the thing is: people have allergies. This is an animal-free car.
MARTIN: Oh, right, yes, of course. But-but perhaps if we were to give you an extra … uh … thirty Euros,
say, to cover the cost of getting your taxi deep cleaned?
CAROLYN: Thirty Euros?! I’m not paying an extra thirty Euros!
BREEDA: No, you’re not. You’re paying an extra forty, or you’re staying here ’til you can get another cab.
MARTIN: Forty Euros will be fine. Thank you.
CAROLYN: Oh, will it indeed? Well, I’m going to stop it out of your wages.
MARTIN: That’ll be a good trick if you can do it.

(High-pitched beeping.)
GERRY (cheerfully): Ah! Ah, she’s got it!
ARTHUR: Yes! Yes! It was in my sock! I never thought it would look there! Let’s go again!
DOUGLAS: Actually, Arthur, I think I might cool off with a quiet read of my paper. The excitement’s
getting to me.
ARTHUR (disappointed): Ohh!
GERRY: You sure there’s nothing else I can show you? Er, the kiosk. Ooh, the baggage carousel!
ARTHUR (excitedly): Ooh!
DOUGLAS: No, Arthur.
GERRY: What about the tannoy?
(Arthur exhales delightedly.)
GERRY: Would you not like a quick go on the tannoy?
ARTHUR: Oh, Douglas! Please?

(Triple tone of the airport tannoy.)

ARTHUR (over the tannoy, in his Captain Wing Commander Sir Arthur Shappey voice): Ladies and
gentlemen, can I have your attention please. This is the Airport speaking. Listen to the Airport. Flight
202-02-02 is now ready for boarding at Gate … Eight. It isn’t late. It will not wait. If you want to be on that
aeroplane … it’s time to get on the aeroplane now. If you have young children … put them on the
aeroplane. If you have any hand baggage … put it on the aeroplane. If you have any bombs … they’re
not allowed on the aeroplane. Please put them … in the bin! Okay, bye! Love, the Airport.

(In the taxi.)

CAROLYN: Is this the fastest you can go?
BREEDA: No, but it’s the fastest I’m going to go.
CAROLYN: We are late. We have to take off before dusk.
BREEDA: Yes, I know how it is with these emergency stuffed sheep deliveries. But with rain like this and
these blind corners, you can’t really take any chances.
CAROLYN: Yeah, well you’re certainly not doing that.
BREEDA: Well, you know what they say: better twenty minutes late in this life …
CAROLYN: Oh, please. Don’t start being charming at me. I can stand being late; I cannot stand being
charmed.
(The car slows down and stops.)
MARTIN: Oh God. No, no, no, no, no.
CAROLYN: Why have you stopped? Don’t stop! That is the opposite of what I want!
MARTIN (hissing through gritted teeth): Carolyn!
BREEDA: Well now, why don’t we make a little race of it?
CAROLYN: What?
BREEDA: You get to the airport the fastest way you know how, and I’ll get there the fastest I know how.
Out you get.
CAROLYN: Oh, don’t be ridiculous.
MARTIN (angrily): Carolyn! (To Breeda) Please.
(He puts on his Irish accent again, making it even worse by making his tone sing-song.)
MARTIN: We’re very, very sorry.
BREEDA: I said OUT!
(Car doors open.)
BREEDA: And take that horrible sheep with you!
MARTIN: Oh, couldn’t you at least take the sheep?
BREEDA (angrily): No I could not!
(The car door slams and Breeda drives away.)
MARTIN: Great. Well done, Carolyn.
CAROLYN: Oh, I see. This is my fault, is it?
(Martin sighs in exasperation.)

(Triple tone of the airport tannoy.)

DOUGLAS (over tannoy): Your attention please. This is an important message for all passengers hoping
to fly to Nottingham.
(Pause.)
DOUGLAS (slowly, pointedly, over tannoy): Raise your ambitions.
ARTHUR: Okay, my turn!
DOUGLAS (fed up): No, come on. We said that was the last one. Lovely to meet you, Gerry. Thanks for
showing us round.
GERRY: My pleasure. Nice to get some use out of … Oh! What am I thinking?! The bar! Now,
you will just have a quick drink at the bar, won’t you? And then you’ve done everything. On the house!
DOUGLAS: It’s very kind of you, but unfortunately Arthur here doesn’t much like alcohol.
ARTHUR: Except peach schnapps.
GERRY: Oh, I think we’ve got some …
DOUGLAS (interrupting): … which, as he’ll remember, he’s never allowed ever again.
ARTHUR: That’s true. I’m not.
GERRY: Why not?
DOUGLAS: Have you seen the film Gremlins?
GERRY: Yes.
DOUGLAS: Peach schnapps is to Arthur as water is to gremlins.
ARTHUR (confidentially): I was terrifying!
DOUGLAS: And I, of course, have a plane to fly in an hour or so, and the CAA prefer me to keep off the
sauce on those occasions.
ARTHUR: Oh, and anyway, you never drink …
DOUGLAS (talking over him): So thank you very much, but no.
GERRY: We’ve got soft drinks too. Loads of soft drinks.
ARTHUR (gasping excitedly): Have you got pineapple juice?
GERRY: Have we got pineapple juice?! We’ve got cartons and cartons of the stuff! No-one ever asks for
it!
ARTHUR: Brilliant! Aww, Douglas, can we? Please?
DOUGLAS (resignedly): One quick one.
ARTHUR (triumphantly): Yes!

CAROLYN: Well, what d’you want? Sackcloth and ashes?

MARTIN: No. I just want you to say sorry.
CAROLYN: Oh, don’t be so childish.
MARTIN: It’s not childish…
(Carolyn makes urgent shushing sounds.)
CAROLYN: Here comes another one.
(A vehicle approaches. The two of them call out to it.)
MARTIN: Hello, hello!
CAROLYN: Please stop!
MARTIN: Please! Hello! Stop!
(The vehicle keeps going. Martin sighs.)
CAROLYN: It would help if you could try to look a little less … peculiar.
MARTIN: Oh, I’m sorry, but it’s quite hard to not look peculiar when you’re in uniform, soaked to the skin
and carrying a dead sheep.
CAROLYN: I wish you would stop going on and on and on about the sheep.
MARTIN: I promise I will as soon as you let me throw it in a ditch!
CAROLYN: It cost me eighty-five Euros!
MARTIN: Then at least let me and the sheep hide behind a tree until you get them to stop and
then we could …
CAROLYN: Oh, I see, I see. You think they’re more likely to stop for a poor little old lady alone in the
rain, do you?
MARTIN: … Yes. All right, since you ask me, yes I do.
CAROLYN: Well I am not a poor little old lady.
MARTIN: Oh, God knows I’m aware of that.
CAROLYN: The tree, though. The tree might be useful.
MARTIN: Really? What are you gonna do? Whittle us a motorbike?
CAROLYN: No. But from the top you might be able to get phone reception.
MARTIN: From the top?
CAROLYN: Yes! Come on! Up you go! Chop-chop!
MARTIN: I don’t climb trees!
CAROLYN: No-no, well, maybe not recently, but I’m sure you climbed thousands in your carefree
boyhood. Come on. Swarm up it.
MARTIN: No, I didn’t! I never climbed trees.
CAROLYN: Then start now.
MARTIN: Oh, for the love of …
(He starts to climb.)
CAROLYN: That’s my boy.
MARTIN (grunting as he climbs): This isn’t what you pay me for, you know.
CAROLYN: No. It’s a bonus! Lucky me.
MARTIN: Not that you pay me for anything, of course.
CAROLYN: I’ve told you before: I would love to pay you if I had it to pay, but I simply don’t. Oh, there,
there – the one by your right foot. Yes! Yes, that’s right.
MARTIN (getting more breathless as he climbs): I could start looking for another job, you know.
CAROLYN: Oh, good heavens. Aren’t you already?
MARTIN: Of course not.
CAROLYN: Well, why ever not? There’s a knot-hole by your left knee.
MARTIN: Ow. Well, you know, er, loyalty.
CAROLYN (raising her voice as Martin gets higher): Oh, Martin, no! I don’t want to lose you but you
really ought to be looking for other jobs! I assumed you were! Careful! I think that branch is dead!
MARTIN: Hmm?
(A branch cracks as he puts his weight on it. He yelps.)
CAROLYN: Yes, I thought so.
(Martin pants for breath.)
MARTIN: But what would happen to MJN?
[Benedict! Will you stop calling it ‘MGN’?!]
MARTIN: Well, you wouldn’t be able to find any other free pilot.
CAROLYN: No, well, we’d fold; but Martin, we’re going to fold sooner or later!
MARTIN (determinedly): No we’re not!
CAROLYN: Of course we are! We’ve been on borrowed time for years! And you’ll-you’ll look far better
applying as an employed pilot than an unemployed one.
MARTIN (panting with the effort of climbing): Carolyn, I didn’t realise that …
CAROLYN: Uh, try there. Anything?
MARTIN: Uh … yes, yes! Yes! I’ve got a bar.
(Still panting, he dials a number. It rings out, then it’s answered.)
DOUGLAS (over phone): Hello?
MARTIN: Douglas! It’s me.
DOUGLAS: Hello, Martin. Are you back?
MARTIN: Er, no. We got thrown out of a taxi and now I’m up a tree.
DOUGLAS: Gosh. Quite a powerful throw.
MARTIN: Can you send out another taxi?
DOUGLAS: Certainly. What’s the address?
MARTIN: The address?
DOUGLAS: Yes. Where d’you want the cab sent?
MARTIN: To-to us. To where we are. It’s-it’s a road, i-in the rain, uh, with a tree.
DOUGLAS: Hmm. Are you hearing the problem?
MARTIN: Come on!
DOUGLAS: All right. Well, what can you see from there? Maybe we can work out where you are.
MARTIN: Right. Er, well, there’s fields … and more trees, and, um, ooh, this way there’s a … there’s a
bee.
DOUGLAS: I think we may need slightly more reliable landmarks than individual insects.
MARTIN: S-several bees. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh! Ooh! Bees! Carolyn! Lots of lots of lots of bees! Er, i-in the
dead branch! A lot!
CAROLYN: Well, don’t shout! Just climb down! Climb down!
MARTIN (in a loud whisper): No. I don’t think I should move. I don’t think the bees would like it! I think I’ll
just keep very still, and maybe the bees will forget me!
CAROLYN (flatly): Oh, terrific. I’m stranded in the middle of Ireland with Captain Winnie the Pooh.

(Recorded jazz music playing in the airport bar.)

DOUGLAS: Oh, he’s rung off.
ARTHUR: Are they all right?
DOUGLAS: Yes. They seem to have stopped off to climb a tree.
ARTHUR (disappointed): Oh. I’d have loved that.
GERRY: Here we are, gentlemen. One pineapple juice on the rocks; one pineapple juice straight up.
(Sound of the glasses being put onto the bar.)
DOUGLAS: Cheers.
ARTHUR: Cheers.
(They clink glasses. Douglas takes a drink and sighs in satisfaction.)
DOUGLAS: That’s the stuff.
ARTHUR: Is it?
DOUGLAS: Not remotely, but it’s nice to pretend now and again.
GERRY: Cocktail olive?
DOUGLAS: Don’t mind if I do, Gerry.
ARTHUR (nonchalantly): Don’t mind if I do either, Gerry.
(Pause.)
ARTHUR: Eurgh! Oh, it turns out I mind a lot.

(Martin and Carolyn call out to another approaching vehicle.)

MARTIN: Hello, hello, please, please, hello, stop!
CAROLYN: Ah, hello! No, stop!
MARTIN: Hello!
(The vehicle drives past.)
CAROLYN: Oh.
(Martin sighs.)
CAROLYN: How’s your hand, Martin?
MARTIN: It’s … fine.
CAROLYN: Let me see. … Hmm. Is-is-is that the one you landed on?
MARTIN: No, this is the one I landed on. This is the one the bee stung me on.
CAROLYN: Mmm. That finger’s swelling. You should take that ring off.
MARTIN: No, I can’t.
CAROLYN: You can. Just-just let your finger relax and …
MARTIN: No, I mean I never, ever take it off. It was my Dad’s signet ring. I haven’t taken it off since his
funeral.
CAROLYN: Oh, I see. Well, that-that’s nice.
MARTIN: Thank you.
CAROLYN: Of course, if you don’t take it off now and your finger keeps swelling, the paramedics will
have tocut it off; or, if they’re too late, your finger will just … burst.
MARTIN: All right, all right! I’m taking it off.
CAROLYN: Good! Put it in your pocket.
MARTIN: Yes! All right! Oh … there-there-there’s one coming. Now look, Carolyn, please. You’re
absolutely and totally not a little old lady, but-but dusk is in forty-eight minutes.
(He starts moving away from the road.)
MARTIN: Could you, just this once, maybe-maybe pretend to be one?
CAROLYN: Yes, all right, all right, fine, fine, fine. Get behind your bloody tree.
MARTIN: Thank you!
CAROLYN (calling out to the approaching vehicle): Hello-o! (She puts on a pathetic quavering old lady
voice.)Hello; please.
FARMER FISHER (Irish accent, stopping his vehicle and applying the handbrake): Are you all right
there?
CAROLYN (plaintively): Oh, oh, thank you for stopping. We’re just trying to get to Kilkenny Airport, my
friend and I.
MARTIN (coming out from cover): Hello!
CAROLYN: Could you – could you possibly give us a lift?
FARMER FISHER: Well, I don’t mind taking you …
CAROLYN: Thank you.
MARTIN: Thank you.
FARMER FISHER: … but there’s only room for one in the cab.
CAROLYN: Ah.
FARMER FISHER: The other’ll have to ride in the back with the girls.
MARTIN: The girls?
(Geese honk.)
MARTIN: Are they – are they swans?
FARMER FISHER: That’s right. That’s my truck full of swans. They can’t get enough swans in Kilkenny.
CAROLYN: They’re geese, Martin.
MARTIN: Right, well, Carolyn, what do you think? Shall we – shall we toss for it?
FARMER FISHER: What are you talking about? She can’t ride in the back!
CAROLYN: Yes, I’m sorry, Martin, but you have to remember I am a very frail old lady.

(Jazz music in the bar.)

GERRY: May I freshen your juices, gentlemen?
DOUGLAS: Oh, why not? Let’s live a little.
(Sound of juice being poured into the glasses.)
ARTHUR: This is great!
DOUGLAS: Good vintage, is it?
ARTHUR: No, I mean this, you know – two guys, sitting in a bar, couple of drinks, box of those black
paper napkins that always look really cool; like we’re in a film. I feel like I should have a hat.
DOUGLAS: God knows, Arthur, you have a hat.
ARTHUR: No, but I mean one of those ones with the dent they used to wear in black and white times.
Gerry, could you, er, could you polish a glass?
GERRY: Oh, have I given you a dirty one?
ARTHUR: No, no. I just think it would look good. And then, Douglas, we should be saying things like,
you know, “Hey, you guy. The dames, eh?” “Yeah, the dames. Stupid dames. You had any luck with the
horses?” “No, the horses are all … idiots. You know, between the dames and the horses, sometimes I
don’t even know why I put my hat on.” That’s how they talk in bars, isn’t it?
DOUGLAS: … No, Arthur. That’s not how anyone talks, anywhere.
ARTHUR: Oh, right. So … how-how do they …? I mean, I’ve never really been to a … What sort of
things do they say?
DOUGLAS: I don’t know. You just ask about each other’s lives.
ARTHUR: Oh, okay. Right. Er … So, do you miss your ex-wife?
DOUGLAS: What?!
ARTHUR: No! No!
DOUGLAS: You don’t … not like that!
ARTHUR: Sorry, sorry.
DOUGLAS: You don’t talk about anything. You-you just … I dunno – you-you joke. You moan about
sport; you-you tease each other. It’s terrific.
ARTHUR: I don’t know about sport. Um, I could tease you, though. I’d like to be better at teasing.
DOUGLAS: Well, you can’t just …
ARTHUR: Honestly, Douglas, you silly great … man. Look at you with your hair all … straight. … It’s not
easy, is it?
DOUGLAS: Apparently not.

MARTIN: Really? Just in there, with them.

FARMER FISHER: Just sit quietly. They’ll leave you alone.
MARTIN: What? Where-where-where should I sit?
FARMER FISHER: On the floor. But careful – it’ll be slippery.
MARTIN: Why would it be slippery?
FARMER FISHER: … Have a think about that.
MARTIN: Oh God, no. I can’t sit on that!
FARMER FISHER: Well, you can’t stay standing up.
MARTIN: Why not?
FARMER FISHER: I’m not saying you’re not allowed …
(The truck begins to move. Martin cries out as he falls over.)
FARMER FISHER: … I just don’t think you can.
CAROLYN: Are you all right?
MARTIN: Yes. (He grunts as he straightens up.) Have I got any …? Oh God.
CAROLYN: Yes, only a little bit.
(Martin groans, then cries out in alarm.)
MARTIN: One of them’s attacking me!
FARMER FISHER: No, she’s just being friendly.
MARTIN: I don’t want a goose friend! Argh! Why does she keep trying to get in my pocket?
FARMER FISHER: She probably thinks you’ve got food in there. Have you?
MARTIN: Oh, yes(!) I never go anywhere without a pocket of goose food!
CAROLYN: Martin, Martin. The seed cake.
MARTIN: Oh, right, yeah. Er, um, actually I do.
FARMER FISHER: Give her that, then, and she’ll leave you alone.
MARTIN: All right. There we go.
(The goose honks.)
MARTIN: Right? (He laughs faintly.) All gone! No, nothing else for you, see? Completely empt… Oh
God.
CAROLYN: What is it?
MARTIN: Oh God. I think this goose has just eaten my father’s signet ring.

(Jazz music in the bar.)

ARTHUR: I ju… I just don’t know the sort of things people say.
DOUGLAS: Yes you do. You’ve heard me tease Martin hundreds of times.
ARTHUR: Oh, right, okay. Er … I notice Sir isn’t terribly tall today.
DOUGLAS: … Yes. That’s better. Of course, I am quite tall.
ARTHUR: Oh, damn! It’s-it’s just really difficult with you. There’s-there’s nothing to make fun of.
(Silence.)
ARTHUR: What?
DOUGLAS: I’m a fifty-seven year old first officer with three ex-wives and I’m drinking sodding pineapple
juice.
ARTHUR: I know. So?
DOUGLAS: Nothing. You know, I think maybe you should give up on teasing. It’s not really your thing.
ARTHUR: Okay.
DOUGLAS: If it helps, you are excellent at being teased.
ARTHUR: Oh, really? Am I?
DOUGLAS: Oh, first rate! Second only to Martin. He’s the master.
ARTHUR: Aww, thanks, Douglas! And-and maybe if I practise, I could get as good as him.
DOUGLAS: As good as Martin? I’m afraid not. He always goes the extra mile. The man just phoned me
from up a tree.

(The truck comes to a halt. Carolyn gets out.)

CAROLYN: All right. Thank you so much, Mr. Fisher. Come on, Martin. We’ve got eighteen minutes. Go-
go-go.
MARTIN: No-no-no, but what about my ring?
CAROLYN: I’ll get you another ring.
MARTIN: It was my father’s.
CAROLYN: Yes, I’m sorry, but … Look, Martin, a goose ate it. What do you want me to do – give it the
Heimlich manoeuvre?
FARMER FISHER: You could buy the goose.
MARTIN: I don’t want to buy a goose!
FARMER FISHER: I don’t want to sell you a goose! But if you want that ring, you’re going to have to
take the goose it comes in.
MARTIN: Carolyn, can I … Can I take a goose on GERTI?
CAROLYN: If it will get you on the plane before dusk, you can take a giant panda.
MARTIN: Right! Okay. How much is it?
FARMER FISHER: Depends. Which one d’you want?
MARTIN: Which one? Well, the-the one that ate my ring, of course.
FARMER FISHER: Ah. With you so far. Which one’s that?
MARTIN: I-I don’t know.
FARMER FISHER: Ah, now.
MARTIN: Oh God.
FARMER FISHER: You know, if I were you …
MARTIN: Yes?
FARMER FISHER: … I’d have kept an eye on it.
MARTIN (frustrated): Thank you.

(In the bar.)

DOUGLAS (tiredly): Gerry, two more pineapple juices over here.
GERRY: Er, d’you not think maybe you’ve had enough?
DOUGLAS: No I don’t.
GERRY: Only they’re quite acidic. You can get yourself a stomach ulcer.
DOUGLAS: Don’t worry, Gerry. We can handle our juice.
(Approaching footsteps.)
DOUGLAS: Carolyn.
ARTHUR: Hey, Mum! Where’ve you been?
CAROLYN (hurriedly): No time, no time. Get ready for take-off in fourteen minutes.
ARTHUR: But Mum …!
CAROLYN: Hurry!
(Martin bursts through the door of the bar as Carolyn hurries away.)
ARTHUR: Hey, Skip!
MARTIN (urgently): Douglas, quick. I need your help.
DOUGLAS: Martin … Good Lord, you’re soaking wet.
MARTIN: Yes, well, it’s raining outside. Look …
DOUGLAS: What happened to your uniform?
MARTIN: I tore it falling out of a tree …
DOUGLAS: Yes, but what’s that all over it?
MARTIN: Oh, er, goose droppings, but …
DOUGLAS: Is your hand okay?
MARTIN (increasingly rapidly): No, a bee stung me …
DOUGLAS: What are you carrying?
MARTIN (frantically): What does it look like?! A stuffed sheep!
DOUGLAS: You see, Arthur? The master.
MARTIN: Douglas, listen. There’s a truck full of geese outside and one of them ate my Dad’s ring and I
don’t know which one and I know there’s nothing you can do but is there anything you can do?
DOUGLAS: Gosh. Well, it’s a-a bit of a tall order, Martin, even for me.
MARTIN (more quietly): You can’t do anything?
DOUGLAS: I didn’t say that. Gerry.
GERRY: Douglas.
DOUGLAS: This is Martin. Martin is a man who would like to discover which of a truckload of geese has
swallowed a valuable ring. Martin, this is Gerry. Gerry is a man who wishes he could get more use out of
his metal-detecting gate. Perhaps you two could have a profitable discussion.
GERRY: Oh, grand!
CAROLYN (urgently as she hurries over): Come on, come on. Where are you all? Twelve minutes.
MARTIN: Er, yes, Carolyn. But, er, b-before that, though, I-I just want to very quickly X-ray all the geese.
CAROLYN: You what?! No, I’m sorry, Martin, I’m very sorry, but there is no time! Now come on!
MARTIN (firmly): No. I’m sorry, Carolyn. I carried the sheep for you. I climbed the tree. I rode the back of
the truck. But now I have to X-ray these geese.
DOUGLAS: Always the extra mile.

SEASON 4 – EPISODE 3: Vaduz

This week, Vaduz!

HERC: Carolyn, ten minutes.

CAROLYN: Yes, all right, Herc. So, last recap: if the phone rings, answer it and take a message. If an
email comes in, reply to it. If …
DOUGLAS: Hang on. I’m taking notes.
ARTHUR: But, er, don’t worry about faxes, guys, because Mum’s put me in charge of the faxes.
MARTIN (quietly): Are you sure, Carolyn? Because some people do still have fax machines.
CAROLYN (quietly): Yes. Yes, some people do. We don’t, though. (Louder) And, most importantly, I will
have my phone on at all times. Call me at once if anything happens at all.
HERC: Er, i-if I could just clarify that a little. Do not call her, no matter what happens.
CAROLYN: Don’t listen to him. Call me if anything goes wrong, or if we get any bookings.
HERC: Those are just two of the circumstances under which you should not call. Other such
circumstances include the following: any circumstances.
CAROLYN: Ignore him.
HERC: Ignore her.
DOUGLAS: What a peaceful holiday you two are going to have.
CAROLYN: It is not a holiday; it is a … trip.
HERC: It’s a holiday – the first holiday I’ve had for years.
DOUGLAS: I suppose normally you’d just wait for the next honeymoon to roll round.
ARTHUR: What?
HERC: Douglas is wittily referring to my four marriages, Arthur, as opposed to his mere three.
ARTHUR: Wow! Is that true? You two have got seven ex-wives?
HERC: Between us, yes … I think. There isn’t any overlap, is there, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: I’d have to check my paperwork.
ARTHUR: Seven! That’s enough for a netball team!
HERC: What a chilling thought.
DOUGLAS: Of course, if Carolyn contributes her two husbands as well, we’re well on our way to a
football team.
CAROLYN: Thank you, Douglas. That will do.
HERC: I-I think I’d put my second wife in goal.
CAROLYN: Hercules Shipwright, did you just do a ‘My ex-wife’s so fat’ joke?
HERC: Certainly not! She happens to be a professional goalkeeper.
CAROLYN: Really?
HERC: No. She’s huge.

(Telephone rings.)
DOUGLAS: Your turn, I think.
MARTIN (making an annoyed sound, then picking up the phone): Hello? MJN Air. Captain Martin Crieff
speaking.
THERESA (over phone, in a Central European accent): Hello. I would like a quote for a booking this
Friday.
MARTIN: Certainly. May I take your name?
THERESA: Yes. I am Princess Theresa of Liechtenstein.
MARTIN (laughing sarcastically): Are you?
THERESA: I am, yes.
MARTIN: What a coincidence.
THERESA: In what way?
MARTIN: Oh, it’s just that I’m the Lord High Archduke Martin of Crieffstonia.
THERESA: Ahh!
MARTIN: Now what can I do for you?
THERESA: Well …
MARTIN: Is it a dragon?
THERESA: What?
MARTIN: D’you need rescuing from a dragon? Only I know what you princesses are like.
DOUGLAS: Er, Martin.
MARTIN: Mmm?
DOUGLAS: This is nothing to do with me.
MARTIN: No, of course not!
DOUGLAS: No! Really!
MARTIN (nervously, into phone): E-e-e-e-excuse me; can you wait a minute?
THERESA: My pleasure. It will allow me to catch my breath from all the hilarity.
MARTIN: Seriously, Douglas – this isn’t one of your mates?
DOUGLAS: Who is it?
MARTIN: The Princess of Liechtenstein!
DOUGLAS: No. The Princess of Liechtenstein is not one of my mates.
MARTIN: Right! Fine! Then you talk to her!
DOUGLAS: With pleasure. (Into phone) Hello. This is First Officer Douglas Richardson. I do apologise.
We’ve been getting some hoax calls this week. Now, how can we help you?
THERESA: Well, I am Princess Theresa of Liechtenstein and I was hoping to charter you to fly the king
and I from Vaduz to Fitton.
DOUGLAS: But of course! To fly The King And I? Well, this is The Sound of Music to our ears! Why, not
since we flew Madam Butterfly to the South Pacific have we had …
MARTIN: Douglas! It’s nothing to do with me either!
DOUGLAS: Yes it is; but I must say, answering it yourself first was a very artistic touch.
MARTIN: Look at me. It’s not me!
DOUGLAS: Well, it’s not me!
THERESA: Okay! So this has been a lot of fun, but ha-have we perhaps reached the point where one of
you might consider googling the words ‘Theresa’ and ‘Liechtenstein’?
MARTIN: Douglas, look. I’ve just …
DOUGLAS (smoothly): Your Royal Highness. How may we be of service?

(Sounds of people on a beach in the background.)

CAROLYN: Yeah, of course I am, Martin. Tell Arthur to meet me at the airport.
(She hangs up her phone. Crunch of approaching footsteps on the sand.)
HERC: Ah, Carolyn, there you are. Now, you know you were saying what fun wind surfing looked?
CAROLYN: I don’t recall saying anything of the kind.
HERC: Well, you were very drunk at the time.
CAROLYN: I was not!
HERC: Nonetheless, you did say it, and accordingly I have booked us lessons this afternoon.
CAROLYN: Oh, that’s nice(!) Anyway, I am going to Liechtenstein.
HERC: I think you might be over-reacting a little.
CAROLYN: Martin just called. He’s just had a booking from the King of Liechtenstein.
HERC: Well that’s obviously Douglas doing a funny voice.
CAROLYN: You would think so, yes, but apparently not.
HERC: Well, the boys can cope.
CAROLYN: What, with a king? Of course they can’t!
HERC: I didn’t realise you were in such thrall to royalty.
CAROLYN: I don’t give two hoots for royalty!
HERC: I think you give four or five hoots.
CAROLYN: I do not.
HERC: And not just any old hoots: low and reverent hoots, like an owl at a Jubilee.
CAROLYN: No! I’m sorry, Herc. I really have to go.
HERC: No! You don’t. Not on the second day of our first and only holiday in sixteen months together.
CAROLYN: Look, I told you when I agreed to come, I’d have to leave if work came up.
HERC: And I told you I didn’t agree and wasn’t listening.
CAROLYN: Oh, honestly, Herc. It’s not a big deal.
HERC: Well, in fact, it is a bit, because it’s important to me that we spend time together …
CAROLYN: Oh, don’t.
HERC: … because I love you.
CAROLYN (tightly, awkwardly): Yes. So you keep saying.
HERC: I do, don’t I?
CAROLYN: Yes. Yes, and I wish you wouldn’t. It makes you sound like a Disney toy.
HERC: Actually, Disney didn’t come up with the concept of expressing love. Other people have found it
important as well.
CAROLYN: Well, who?
HERC: Most of humanity.
CAROLYN: Well, there you are, then. You know what chumps they are.
HERC: Who, humanity?
CAROLYN: Yes, by and large.
HERC: … Well, granted. But still.

(Flight deck door opens.)

ARTHUR: Okay, chaps. I’ve been, er, practising bows. Do you think, er, this one … (short silence while
he does his bow) … or this one?
(Another short silence, followed by the sound of something being caught in one hand.)
ARTHUR: That’s a slightly fancier one.
DOUGLAS: Isn’t it just? What happens if you don’t catch your hat?
ARTHUR: Yeah, I thought of that. Er, I can extend the bit at the end to include picking it up.
MARTIN: Just a simple inclination of the head from the neck, Arthur – that’s enough.
ARTHUR: Are you sure? Doesn’t sound very king-y.
MARTIN: Quite sure. I’ve been brushing up on protocol.
DOUGLAS: Of course you have.
MARTIN: Also, never look at the king directly.
DOUGLAS: Are you sure you’re not confusing him with the sun?
MARTIN: And don’t hold eye contact. Just-just glance up and look away.
DOUGLAS: Even if we’re looking at him through smoked glass?
ARTHUR: Okay, I’m gonna go and practise.
(Flight deck door closes.)
DOUGLAS: So … Martin. What sort of team would your exes make?
MARTIN: What? No team. You know I’ve never been married.
DOUGLAS: Mmm, but what about ex-girlfriends?
MARTIN: I’m not telling you that.
DOUGLAS: Okay.
MARTIN: That’s private.
DOUGLAS: Absolutely. Forget I asked.
(Pause.)
MARTIN: How-how-how-how many people in a bobsled?
DOUGLAS: Four.
MARTIN: Oh.
DOUGLAS: There’s five in a basketball team, if that helps.
MARTIN: It doesn’t.
DOUGLAS: Ah. I don’t think there’s anything with three.
MARTIN: No … (he sighs) … there wouldn’t be.
DOUGLAS: Hang on; I’ll look it up.
MARTIN: There’s really no need.
DOUGLAS: Pétanque!
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: There’s three players in a pétanque team! You know, boules – like old Frenchmen play.
MARTIN (with a resigned tone): Go on, then.
DOUGLAS: What?
MARTIN: Well, I know you only asked me so I would ask you. What sort of a team would your ex-
girlfriends be?
DOUGLAS: Hmmm. Well, you know the start of the London Marathon …?
MARTIN: Yes, all right!

DOUGLAS: Shut-down checks complete; and fuel remaining is … one thousand six hundred litres.
MARTIN: One thousand six hundred. Got it. Right. Let’s go – quick, quick, quick.
DOUGLAS: We’re still early.
MARTIN: Yes, but we could be earlier.
(Knock on cabin door.)
OTTO (European accent): Er, hello?
(The door is opened.)
OTTO: Hi. I am Otto.
MARTIN: Hello.
OTTO: I am your ground handling agent today. Er, we hope …
MARTIN (hastily): Yes, good-good-good. We’d like to take off at five.
OTTO: Ja, sure, sure. In the meantime, d’you want cleaning services?
MARTIN: Er, no thank you. We take care of that ourselves.
OTTO: Okay, yeah, sure. So, catering services?
MARTIN: No, we do that too. Okay, thanks …
OTTO: Check-in desks?
MARTIN: No, again, we …
OTTO: … you do it yourselves, sure, yeah. How about …?
MARTIN: No, I’m sorry. We really have to go. We are actually, as it happens, collecting the King of
Liechtenstein, so anything else, just-just assume we do it ourselves.
OTTO: Fuel.
MARTIN: Oh.
OTTO: You have a little portable refinery up there in the tail, maybe?
(Martin sighs in exasperation.)
OTTO: Or will His Majesty be bringing a couple of barrels of his own brew?
MARTIN: Okay, sorry, yes, we want refuelling. We’ll need three thousand litres.
OTTO: Okey-dokey.

(In a car.)
ARTHUR: Shall I offer to take his crown, or will he want to keep it on for the flight?
DOUGLAS: Just a minute, Arthur. Martin …
(Clinking of metal.)
MARTIN: Hmm?
DOUGLAS: What are you doing?
MARTIN: I know you’re going to laugh.
DOUGLAS: Are you putting on …?
MARTIN: It is correct protocol to wear one’s decorations when greeting a foreign head of state.
DOUGLAS: Medals?! When did you get medals?!
MARTIN: During the ten years I was a … member of the Air Cadets.
DOUGLAS: I see. What’s this one?
MARTIN: That’s my Cadet Forces Medal.
DOUGLAS: For …?
MARTIN: Being in the Air Cadets.
DOUGLAS: Impressive stuff! And the other one?
MARTIN (hurriedly): Doesn’t matter.
DOUGLAS: It does matter.
MARTIN: You’ll only make fun of it.
DOUGLAS: Martin, let us be perfectly clear: the good ship Douglas Making Fun of Martin’s Medals set
sail the moment you took the decision to put on some medals. The voyage is now well underway, and I
can only suggest you relax and enjoy it. What’s the other one?
MARTIN: … It’s … my Millennium Star.
DOUGLAS: Is it?! And that’s awarded for …?
MARTIN: I think you know what it’s for.
DOUGLAS: I have a wild hope, certainly, but surely it’s too good to be true.
MARTIN: It was awarded – by the Queen – to all serving members of the Armed Forces and Cadet
Corps … to commemorate the new millennium.
DOUGLAS (delightedly): It is! You’re going to meet the King of Liechtenstein wearing a medal you got
for being alive in the year two thousand!
ARTHUR: I wish I’d known. I could have got that one.

(In a restaurant.)
HERC: Thank you for staying.
CAROLYN: Yes, yes, yes. You already said that.
HERC: And I’m saying again: I really appreciate you staying.
CAROLYN: Yes-yes-yes. All right, fine.
HERC: Because …
CAROLYN: Yes-yes, thank you. That’s lovely.
HERC: … I love you.
CAROLYN: Yes, I am aware. The information has been duly noted. Thank you for your feedback.
HERC: And do you …?
CAROLYN (her voice getting increasingly high-pitched): No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no!
HERC: No?
CAROLYN: Not, ‘No, the answer’s “No”,’ … ‘No, don’t ask.’
HERC: So the answer’s not no.
CAROLYN: I said, ‘Don’t ask’; don’t ask, don’t tell, like gay American soldiers before two thousand and
eleven.
HERC: Well I’m not a gay American soldier before two thousand and eleven; I am, in fact, none of those
things. And I am interested in whether or not you feel as strongly about me as I do about you.
CAROLYN: Why? Look, we’re-we’re doing very well as we are. Why-why can’t we carry on like this?
HERC: But what if we wanted to get married?
CAROLYN: But we don’t want to get married, though, do we? Not in the least tiniest little bit.
HERC: I might want to.
CAROLYN: Yes, Hercules, but let’s face facts: you wanting to get married is like other people wanting to
sneeze. Besides, ‘Knapp-Shappey’ is bad enough as a surname. I’m damned if I’m going to become
‘Knapp-Shappey-Shipwright’.
HERC: Yes, I see what you mean. It does sound a bit like a soft shoe shuffle.

(Outdoors.)
ARTHUR: Wow! It’s an actual castle!
DOUGLAS: What did you expect Vaduz Castle to be?
ARTHUR: I dunno. World of Leather was very disappointing.
MARTIN: What do we do now?
DOUGLAS: Knock?
MARTIN: Can you just knock at a castle?
DOUGLAS: I don’t see why not. What was your plan: jangle your medals together?
(Knocking on the door, which is then opened.)
THERESA: Hello. Oh, are you the pilots?
MARTIN: Er-er, er, yes. Hello. Er, we’re-we-we’re here to see, er, Princess Theresa.
THERESA: I know, yes. Hello.
MARTIN: Hello. So-so is she in?
THERESA: Yes she is in … front of you. Hello. Come in.
MARTIN: Oh. Right.
(They go inside.)
MARTIN (clearing his throat): Your Royal Highness, if I might introduce myself. I am Captain Martin
Crieff.
THERESA: Oh, I remember you! You’re here to save me from a dragon, yes?
MARTIN: Terribly sorry about that.
THERESA: Oh, no, don’t worry. It happens a lot!
MARTIN: … Okay. And, er, and this is First Officer Douglas Richardson, and Mr. Arthur Shappey
Esquire, who will be providing customer service.
ARTHUR (quietly to Douglas): Mr. Arthur Shappey what?
DOUGLAS (quietly): Esquire.
ARTHUR: What’s a squire?
DOUGLAS: You are.
ARTHUR: Brilliant!
MARTIN: The head of our company, Mrs Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, presents her compliments and her
profound apologies not to be here in person, but rest assured, she will be waiting to greet you on our
arrival in Fitton.
THERESA: Really? Why?
MARTIN: … W-well, you know, to provide an … official reception and-and to … sweep the building for …
assassins.
THERESA: Ooh! Right. Well, d’you get a lot of assassins in your airport?
DOUGLAS: We do in the winter months. I think the cold drives them inside.
MARTIN (through gritted teeth): Douglas!
ARTHUR: Excuse me, your Princess.
THERESA: Theresa is fine.
ARTHUR: Er, Theresa. When do we get to see the king?
MARTIN: Arthur! I-I-I’m so sorry. He-he…
THERESA: Oh, no, no, no, it’s fine. I’ll get him. (Calling out) Maxi! Your pilots are here!
MAXIMILIAN (a teenage boy, excitedly): Yaaaay!
THERESA: And you can come and meet them as soon as you’ve finished your carrots!
(Running footsteps, then a heavy door is pulled open.)
MAXIMILIAN: I have finished them.
MARTIN: Oh!
DOUGLAS: Martin? I fear you’re looking directly at the king.

(In the car.)

MAXIMILIAN: Green truck. That counts double.
ARTHUR (indignantly): What?! No, no, that’s not how you play!
MAXIMILIAN: It is in Liechtenstein.
ARTHUR: No it’s not!
MAXIMILIAN: It is, because I’m the King of Liechtenstein and I say it is. A hundred points to me!
ARTHUR (frantically): There aren’t any points!
MAXIMILIAN: There are in Liechtenstein.
THERESA: Maxi! Stop being horrible! I’m sorry – Maxi is going through a stage where he’s very pleased
with himself for being accidentally born king. (She chuckles in embarrassment.) They all go through it!
For my father, it lasted sixty years!
MARTIN: So you’re Maxi’s sister?
THERESA: I’m the oldest; he’s the youngest. Six sisters, then Maxi.
DOUGLAS: Good lord!
THERESA: Yes. My father’s motto was, ‘If at first you don’t succeed …’
DOUGLAS: And what takes His Majesty to Fitton?
THERESA: He’s going back to school.
ARTHUR: Ah, lucky you! I really miss going to school.
MAXIMILIAN: Then you’re stupid. I hate school.
THERESA: No you don’t. You just hate all the other boys.
MAXIMILIAN: No – they hate me. They won’t call me by my proper title.
DOUGLAS: Children can be so cruel.
MARTIN: I-I suppose you must stick out a bit, being royal.
THERESA: Not at this school. He shares a desk with the Sheikh of Qatar.
MAXIMILIAN: Yes, but he’s only a prince. I outrank him.
THERESA: Maxi, I keep telling you: people don’t make friends by telling other people how much they
outrank them.
MARTIN: That’s true, actually!
DOUGLAS: Yes. Captain Crieff – as you can see – is a grizzled veteran of the Air Cadets.
THERESA (giggling flirtatiously): Oooh! Oh my, yes!
(She touches his medals, which jingle.)
THERESA: What are these?
MARTIN (trying to sound nonchalant): Oh, those are just my decorations.
THERESA (impressed): Oh! You come with decorations. Like a little Christmas tree! What are they for?
DOUGLAS: Ooh! Can I tell her?!
MARTIN: No.
DOUGLAS: Please?
MARTIN: No! This is-this is my Cadet Forces Medal; and, um, this is my Millennium Star.
THERESA: Well, now! I think we can do a little better than that. You have provided aid to the Royal
Family, so straight away you can have the Star of Liechtenstein … (clinking as she adds the medal to
Martin’s bar) … theWreath of Liechtenstein … (another clink) … and, er, ooh, I don’t know what the last
one is called … the Little Wobbly Stick of Liechtenstein.
(Another clink.)
MARTIN: Errr, thank you.
MAXIMILIAN (whining): Theresa! You can’t give him that! That’s our highest honour!
THERESA (exasperated): Well someone’s gotta have it! (To Martin) Now, do you renounce Satan?
MARTIN: Errrr, yes!
THERESA: Super! That gives you the Holy Cross of St. Lucius!
MARTIN: Okay, I think you might be teasing me.
THERESA: Maxi, do we have a medal for Teasing Recognition?
MAXIMILIAN: No.
THERESA: Shame. (Flirtatiously to Martin) You really earned it.
(Martin laughs nervously. There’s a moment of silence.)
MAXIMILIAN: Black dog.
ARTHUR: Oh, come on! That’s not even a vehicle!

OTTO: Okay, and sign here. You’re all ready to go.

DOUGLAS: Okay.
(Sat comm bleeps.)
MARTIN (into sat comm): Hello?
CAROLYN (over sat comm): Martin? How is everything?
MARTIN: Everything’s fine, Carolyn. We’re just about to leave.
CAROLYN: Really? No-one’s been thrown in a dungeon or anything? (She chuckles.) Good lord. And
how fares the King of Liechtenstein?
MARTIN: He’s fine. He and Arthur are playing Top Trumps.
CAROLYN: What?
MARTIN: I’ll explain later. Don’t worry. I’m in complete control.
CAROLYN: Well, good, because our flight home has been delayed by three hours. We won’t get to
Fitton in time to meet you.
MARTIN: It’s fine, it’s fine. She’s … she’s really not that sort of princess.
DOUGLAS: Er, Captain …
MARTIN: Gotta go!
(Sat comm off.)
DOUGLAS: Could you just double-check this fuel order?
MARTIN (taking the paper from Douglas): Er … (high-pitched) What?! Three thousand litres? Why have
you loaded three thousand litres?
OTTO: Because you asked for three thousand litres.
MARTIN: No I didn’t. I said, “We’ll need three thousand litres.”
OTTO: … Okay, is that sounding any different to you, because …
MARTIN: No: “We’ll need three thousand” in the tank and we already have sixteen hundred, so …
OTTO: Well, maybe I am a simple soul, but I heard, ‘We need three thousand litres,’ and what I thought
was, ‘Oh, I know, I’ll give them three thousand litres! They’ll like that!’
MARTIN: Yes, but …
DOUGLAS: Yes, well, whoever’s fault it is …
OTTO: It’s his fault.
DOUGLAS: I know. But the good news, Martin, is we’re still under maximum take-off weight.
MARTIN: Oh, good.
DOUGLAS: The less good news is that when we get to Fitton, we’ll still be way over maximum landing
weight.
MARTIN: … Right. So we can go up but we can’t come down.
DOUGLAS: Exactly. We are Newton’s worst nightmare.

(On board another plane.)

STEWARDESS: Your Bloody Mary, madam.
CAROLYN: Thank you so much. I do like being a passenger. She doesn’t know I know she hates me.
HERC: Not all cabin crew hate their passengers, you know.
CAROLYN (laughing cheerily): Oh, bless you!
HERC: So, before we leave the subject entirely …
CAROLYN: What subject? Oh, no, not that subject.
HERC: Marriage is definitely off the table?
CAROLYN: Well … I’m not saying that. I’m just saying … why can’t we carry on as we are?
HERC: Well … because things change.
CAROLYN: What changes?
HERC: Well … for instance, if … if we’re not in this for the medium-long term, I should probably go to
Switzerland.
CAROLYN: Well, that’s a bit of an over-reaction.
HERC: I did that joke already.
CAROLYN: It’s funnier now.
HERC: No it’s not.
CAROLYN: Oh yes it is, because the stakes are higher. Why would you go to Switzerland?
HERC: Because if I don’t, I’ll be out of a job.
CAROLYN: Why?
HERC: Because Swiss Airways are going international next year.
CAROLYN: Oh. Bully for them.
HERC: … by buying up lots of smaller airlines such as Air Caledonia.
CAROLYN: Ohh.
HERC: … with massive redundancies. Now, as a senior captain, I have the option of keeping my job if I
move to Zurich; or I can take redundancy.
CAROLYN: And get another job?
HERC: Where?
CAROLYN: Well, I don’t know.
HERC: Well, nor do I. Fifty-six year old pilots are far less in demand that you’d think.
CAROLYN: I’d assume they’re in no demand whatsoever.
HERC: I realised, even as I said it, I was talking to the wrong person.
CAROLYN: Well, you should go.
HERC: Oh. Should I?
CAROLYN: Yes, of course you should. I don’t want you to give up your job for me. I’m not asking you to
do that.
HERC: You don’t want me to stay?
CAROLYN: Well, I-I … I’m not asking you to stay.
HERC: I understand that. Do you want me to stay?
CAROLYN: … I don’t want you … not to stay.
HERC: I will stay if you want me to.
CAROLYN: I don’t want to be the reason you stay.
HERC: Yes. That’s noted. The thing is, though: you would, as it happens, be the reason I stay, if I stay.
How do you feel about that?
CAROLYN: … I don’t know.
HERC: Don’t you? That’s okay. No. Mull it over, though.

(Radio on.)
MARTIN (into radio): Fitton Tower, this is Golf Echo Romeo Tango India.
FITTON ATC (over radio): ’allo, chaps! Timed that well. Come straight in. Cleared number one for the
approach.
MARTIN (slowly): Yyyyes. Actually, Karl, we’d like to hold before landing.
KARL: … Y-you want me to put you in the hold?
MARTIN: Yes, we do.
KARL (laughing in disbelief): After all the bellyaching you normally give me?
MARTIN: Even after that.
KARL: … Why?
MARTIN: We just do.
KARL: All right then! Golf Tango India, once round the holding pattern. Enjoy the view!
MARTIN: No – we need to hold for … (he mutters calculations under his breath) … about twenty circuits.
KARL: Twenty?!
MARTIN: Yes! Is that all right with you?!
KARL: No, it’s fine with me. You aren’t half gonna get dizzy, though. Enter the hold at Arden; maintain
flight level seven-zero, and advise when you’ve had enough and wanna go on the dodgems instead.

ARTHUR: Okay, I’ve got Harold the Fifth of Norway, and I pick Stateliness. Seven out of ten.
MAXIMILIAN: Bad luck. I’ve got me again.
(Arthur sighs in exasperation.)
MARTIN (coming out of the flight deck): Hello. Everything all right back here?
ARTHUR: Hi, Skip. Er, yeah. Maxi and me have invented European Monarch Top Trumps … but he
scores ten out of ten for everything.
MARTIN: What about Size of Kingdom?
MAXIMILIAN: It’s not a category.
ARTHUR: Yeah, I said we should have that.
MARTIN: Well, anyway, I just wanted to explain … Theresa? Er, y-you may have noticed we’re going
round in circles and …
THERESA: Yes. Are you burning off fuel to reduce your landing weight?
MARTIN: Er, yes! How did you know?
THERESA: Oh, how much extra did you load?
MARTIN: Well, about sixteen hundred litres.
THERESA: Oh, goodness!
ARTHUR: Wow, Skip. Mum’s gonna kill you!
MARTIN: Thank you, Arthur. I’m aware of that.
THERESA: Oh! Oh, this is the anti-terrorism expert, yes? A bit of a dragon, is she?!
MARTIN (laughing nervously): Er, well, yeah, if you met her … (he stutters) … don’t ever say that to her,
but yes.
MAXIMILIAN (mockingly): Are you scared of her?
MARTIN: … Well, yes, I am.
THERESA: Don’t be rude, Maxi. You’re scared of the Sheikh of Qatar.
MAXIMILIAN: I’m not scared of him. I could have his head cut off.
THERESA: You have to stop saying that all the time. You can’t have anyone’s head cut off!
MAXIMILIAN: I can if they commit treason.
THERESA: They’re not going to commit treason!
ARTHUR: Ooh, I know, I know! Why don’t you command them to cut their own head off? And then, if
they do it, their head’s cut off, and if they don’t do it, they’ve committed treason and you can have their
head cut off!
MAXIMILIAN (excitedly): Yeahhh!
THERESA: Thank you, Arthur, but the last thing Maxi needs is a henchman.
MARTIN: Maxi, can I give you some advice?
MAXIMILIAN: You?! But you’re a commoner.
MARTIN: … Yeah. Even so, um, when-when the Sheikh of Qatar is giving you a hard time, don’t tell him
you’re going to cut his head off – even if you can … which you-you can’t. It just makes you look like, um
… well, it makes you look like a man with a medal for being alive in the year two thousand.

(Radio on.)
KARL: ’allo, Golf Tango India. ’ow’s life on the Magic Roundabout?
DOUGLAS: Hallo, Karl.
KARL: It’s ever so restful watching you, you know. Round and round and round, like-like one of those
mobiles you hang on a cot.
MARTIN: Tower, please confine …
KARL (interrupting): Aaaaanyway: silly question, I know, because obviously you live in the air now, but
d’you fancy comin’ in?
DOUGLAS: No thanks, Karl. We’ll have another five laps’ worth, please.
KARL: Fair enough. Why stop just when you’re beginning to enjoy yourself? Remain in the holding
pattern; and scream if you wanna go faster!
MARTIN (exasperated): Thank you, Tower.
(Radio off. Flight deck door opens.)
THERESA: Er, excuse me?
DOUGLAS: Ah, hallo.
THERESA: Hello. I, er, just wanted to say thank you, Martin, for talking to Maxi.
MARTIN: Oh. You’re welcome.
THERESA: It’s tricky becoming king so young. So easy to let it ruin you.
MARTIN: Yes. I had the same thing when I was made Junior Corporal.
THERESA: Anyway, thank you.
(She laughs nervously.)
MARTIN: Theresa, can I – can I – can I ask you a question?
THERESA: Yes!
MARTIN: Er, how come you know so much about landing weights?
THERESA: Well, actually, when I was little, I-I wanted to be a pilot.
MARTIN: No!
THERESA: Is that so crazy?
MARTIN: No, not at all! It’s just … when I was little, I wanted to be a pilot!
THERESA: Well, yyyes … I-I-I thought maybe you did.
MARTIN: How did you know?!
THERESA: Because you’re a pilot.
MARTIN: Oh! Yes. Yes, I am.
THERESA: You’re doing the thing you always wanted to do. You’re-you’re very lucky.
MARTIN (slowly): I suppose I am. It’s just, no-one’s ever called me lucky before.
(The sat comm begins to ring.)
DOUGLAS: Ah. And this, I’m afraid, may illustrate why not.
MARTIN (plaintively as he answers the sat comm): Hello?
CAROLYN (furiously over sat comm): Martin, what the hell is going on?
MARTIN: I thought you were delayed!
CAROLYN: We were delayed – by three hours – and yet here you still are, flying round and round in
circles like a moth round a light bulb! So what – as I believe I asked before – the hell – and this had
better be really good – is going on?!
MARTIN: Right. Er, look, the thing is …
THERESA: Martin, let me talk to her.
MARTIN: Er, thank you, but it’s best …
THERESA (firmly): I will talk to her.
MARTIN: Okay …
THERESA: Hello?
CAROLYN: What? Who are you?
THERESA: I am Her Serene Highness Princess Theresa Gustava Bonaventura of Liechtenstein,
Countess of Sponheim and Protector Extraordinary of the Cantons of Nîmes! (Imperiously) Who
are you?
CAROLYN (humbly): Call me Carolyn.
THERESA (sternly): Are you in charge? What is the meaning of this intolerable delay?
CAROLYN: I am so sorry, Your Highness. I am – I’m just interrogating the captain and, when I find out, I
assure you …
THERESA (interrupting): The captain? What has it to do with the captain?
CAROLYN: Well … he’s the one flying the plane.
THERESA: Of course he is – round and round in circles.
CAROLYN: Exactly! And when I’ve found out why …
THERESA: … on my command.
CAROLYN: O-on your … Sorry?
THERESA: While we wait and we wait and we wait for you to arrive.
CAROLYN: For me? Why?
THERESA: To receive us, of course. We are the King and Princess of Liechtenstein. Do you think we’d
simply land in any old airport without reception, without having it swept for assassins?
CAROLYN: I do … I-I do apologise. I … assassins?
THERESA: Yes! Now sweep for those assassins, and once you are sure there aren’t any, you may call
us back.
CAROLYN: I think I can be fairly sure, even now …
THERESA (loudly): CALL US BACK!
CAROLYN: Yes, yes, Your Highness.
(Sat comm off.)
MARTIN: Wwwwow! That was amazing! I thought you said you weren’t that sort of princess?
THERESA: No, but my mother is. That was basically her.
MARTIN: Thank you so much. You saved my life.
THERESA: Yes, well – always useful to have a princess around to rescue you from dragons.
MARTIN: Honestly, I-I-I don’t know how I can thank you.
THERESA: Well – think of something.
MARTIN: … Okay.
THERESA: I’m waiting.
MARTIN: Okay … I … I am thinking of something.
THERESA (hopefully): Yes?
MARTIN: But I don’t know if it’s the same thing you’re thinking of.
THERESA: No, well, you won’t know until you try, will you?
MARTIN: Okay … Well …
(He breathes in deeply, blows out a nervous breath, then speaks rapidly.)
MARTIN: Would you like to go to Duxford Air Museum with me?
THERESA: Okay, so it’s not what I was thinking of …
MARTIN: Oh God! I’m so sorry! I should never have asked …
THERESA: No, but it’s not bad. (She laughs.) We can go tomorrow?
MARTIN: Really?
THERESA: Sure!
MAXIMILIAN (calling out from the cabin): Theresa!
THERESA (flirtatiously to Martin): See you later.
(Flight deck door closes.)
DOUGLAS (amazed): Well!
MARTIN: Did she just …
DOUGLAS (impressed): Oh, yes! Congratulations, Martin. You’ve got yourself … a bobsled.

SEASON 4 – EPISODE 4: Wokingham

This week, Wokingham!

MARTIN: Fuel balanced.

DOUGLAS: Beautifully done.
MARTIN: Thank you.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: What’s wrong with the flight deck service bell?
MARTIN: Er, nothing, is there?
CAROLYN: Well, it keeps ringing.
DOUGLAS: Yes. We rang it.
CAROLYN: Then cease from ringing it.
MARTIN: But we always ring it when we want Arthur to bring …
CAROLYN: Yes, but Arthur is not here; and when Arthur is not here, the flight deck service bell becomes
an object of purely decorative interest.
MARTIN: But what if we really need …
CAROLYN (interrupting): No, no, no, no, no. Let me spell this out for you in words of one syllable.
DOUGLAS: Oh, good! Off you go.
CAROLYN (slowly, pedantically): You do not so much as touch the service bell unless …
DOUGLAS and MARTIN (almost simultaneously): Ohhh!
MARTIN: “Ser-vice.”
DOUGLAS: Shame. Still, good effort.
CAROLYN: I was not playing!
MARTIN (haltingly): I bet I can … go on for … a more long time.
DOUGLAS: All right, you’re on. What’s the bet?
MARTIN: I don’t know. Maybe …
DOUGLAS: Whatever it was, you just lost it. Okay, my turn.
MARTIN: Your turn at what?
DOUGLAS (pedantically): Nice try, my friend.
(Martin groans in frustration.)
DOUGLAS: … but you will not catch me out, so …
MARTIN: So …?
DOUGLAS: … so there.
(Again Martin grunts. The sat comm beeps.)
DOUGLAS (into sat comm): Good day. MJN Air. How can we help you?
ARTHUR (over sat comm): Hi, Douglas, it’s me. Is Mum there?
CAROLYN: Yes, I’m here. What have you done now?
ARTHUR: Nothing! Nothing. It’s-it’s just, um … I’ve got a sort of hypocritical question.
CAROLYN: Ooh! Have you indeed?
ARTHUR: Yeah. Suppose something had happened …
CAROLYN: What have you done?
ARTHUR: No, I haven’t done anything! It’s not my fault. And also … maybe nothing’s happened. Um, but
if-if something had happened and if there was nothing that one of you it’s about can do until they get
back, should I tell you now, or should I wait until you land?
CAROLYN: Is the person me?
ARTHUR: I’m not saying anything has happened. I’m just saying, if it did …
CAROLYN: Yes, dear. You’ve been tremendously cunning. Now, just tell us.
ARTHUR: Okay, good. Um, Skip, your mum just called.
MARTIN: Yes?
ARTHUR: Right. And-and basically, the main thing she wants to say is that she has not had a heart
attack.
MARTIN: She’s had a heart attack?!
ARTHUR: No! No! I mean … oh, you really couldn’t have got that more wrong, Skip! A-a heart attack i-is
what she has not had.
MARTIN: What do you mean?! What has she had?
ARTHUR: Not a heart attack! She was very clear about that!
MARTIN: Where is she?
ARTHUR: Okay … when I tell you where she is, Skip, you’ve gotta not worry too much, because in fact
…
MARTIN (interrupting): She’s in a hospital?
ARTHUR (high-pitched in surprise): How did you know?!
MARTIN: Tell her I’ll be there in three hours.

(Footsteps, and Martin’s anxious breathing.)

MARTIN: Mum. Are you okay?
WENDY: Oh, Martin, sweetheart. You didn’t need to come.
(They kiss each other.)
WENDY: I’m completely fine. It’s all a fuss about nothing. Oh, no, look – you’re in your uniform. You
didn’t come straight from work?
MARTIN: Well, of course I did.
WENDY: Oh, you shouldn’t have. You didn’t leave it in the middle, did you?
MARTIN: … Well, no. I … I-I landed the plane.
WENDY: Oh good.
MARTIN: But, Mum, what happened?
WENDY: Oh, nothing really.
MARTIN: What, you just fancied a go in an ambulance?
WENDY: No. I-I told them I didn’t need an ambulance. It was all a silly fuss. I was just stacking the
chairs up after the RNLI thing … We did ever so well, you know, Martin. We got forty pounds …
MARTIN: Tha-tha-that’s lovely, Mum, but-but just for now stick to the part about you ending up in
hospital.
WENDY: Well, when I finished, I was just a bit out of breath, that’s all; and all it was was I had a bit of
that funny throbbing thing I get, you know …
MARTIN: Wha-wha-what, in your chest? Chest pains?
WENDY: Well, not chest pains, you know – not “Ooh, chest pains!” Honestly, Martin, all I needed was a
quick sit-down and it would have gone away, but nothing would please that fusspot Sandra but to send
for the ambulance. Honestly, an ambulance! For me! Can you imagine?
MARTIN: Yes, yes, I can.
WENDY: But what if someone had really needed it?
(Approaching footsteps.)
CAITLIN: Mum! Are you okay?
WENDY: Oh, Caitlin, not you as well. You shouldn’t have come.
(They kiss each other.)
CAITLIN: Of course I should! (In a less affectionate voice) Hi, Martin.
MARTIN: Hi, Cat.
WENDY: Oh, look, you’re in your uniform. Have you come from work too?
CAITLIN: Of course I have!
WENDY: But you finished your shift, didn’t you?
CAITLIN: No! I told them my mum was in hospital and I …
WENDY: Oh no! At least Martin finished his shift.
MARTIN: Mum, I didn’t really have a choice.
WENDY: Go on, Caitlin: go back and finish your shift. I’ll be fine.
CAITLIN: They can get along without me, Mum.
WENDY: They can’t.
MARTIN: Mum, they really can.
CAITLIN: What does that mean, Martin?
MARTIN: What? Nothing! I was agreeing with you!
CAITLIN: Agreeing with me that my job doesn’t matter?
MARTIN: No! I just meant Wokingham can probably struggle by for a bit with one less traffic warden.
CAITLIN: It’s “fewer”. And I suppose you’re indispensable, are you?
MARTIN: No, I’m not saying that.
DR. WHITE (male, coming over to the group): Everything all right over here, Wendy?
WENDY: Oh, yes, thank you, Doctor White. I’m sorry – the children were squabbling.
CAITLIN: We weren’t squabbling!
MARTIN: We’re not children!
DR. WHITE: … Yes. Pleased to meet you. Er, sorry to take you away from your party.
CAITLIN: What party?
MARTIN: Oh, no. Er, the-these actually are our jobs.
DR. WHITE: Oh, I see! Oh. Now, Wendy. Er, the good news is your ECG and your blood tests look pretty
cheerful, and we don’t think you’ve had a heart attack.
WENDY: You see! I told you so.
DR. WHITE: It’s looking more like a spot of angina, but to be sure, I think we’ll keep you in for a few days
…
WENDY: Oh no!
DR. WHITE: … no more than a week, and do a few investigations.
WENDY: Oh, but really, no, I’m fine, honestly. Can’t I just go home?
DR. WHITE: Well … you could come in as an outpatient. Is there someone at home that’d look after
you?
WENDY: Oh, I can look after myself.
CAITLIN: Don’t be silly! We can do it between us, can’t we, Martin?
MARTIN: Er, yes, pr-probably. And of course there’s Simon too.
WENDY: Oh, now, you’re not to bother Simon.
MARTIN: It’s not bothering him. We all …
WENDY: No, no, I really won’t have you disturbing Simon. His job’s so important.
CAITLIN: My job’s important.
MARTIN: Yes, and my job’s actually important.
CAITLIN: What d’you mean “actually”?
MARTIN: I mean both of our jobs are important, like Simon’s.
WENDY: But Simon works for the government!
MARTIN (indignantly): He works for the council!
WENDY: Well, exactly.

(Flight deck door opens.)

CAROLYN: Hello, drivers … oh, driver. How long now?
DOUGLAS: About three hours.
CAROLYN: Right.
(Pause.)
CAROLYN: Oh gosh. It’s boring up here when it’s just you, isn’t it?
DOUGLAS: Took the words right out of my mouth.
CAROLYN: Well, don’t you have some sort of game going?
DOUGLAS: I don’t think so. Only the Words of One Syllable one.
CAROLYN: Oh yes! You were terrible at that.
DOUGLAS (indignantly): I was not!
CAROLYN: You were. You said “accident”.
DOUGLAS: Oh, come on. That wasn’t part of the game!
CAROLYN: Nevertheless.
DOUGLAS: Well, you couldn’t even manage a full sentence!
CAROLYN: I wasn’t playing!
(Slight pause.)
DOUGLAS (carefully): Well then. Do you think you could do … more well now?
CAROLYN (carefully): I think I could do far far more well.
DOUGLAS: Right. Well then. (Carefully) Let us both play at the same time, and the first one to use a
word of more than one … (long pause) … sound will lose.
CAROLYN: You are on. And you will lose.
DOUGLAS (at normal speed): As I say: you took the words right out of my mouth.
CAROLYN: Ah!
DOUGLAS: Yes?
CAROLYN (frustrated): Ohh!

(Sound of a kettle boiling.)

MARTIN: Mum! D’you want tea?
WENDY (from a distance): Oh, I’ll make it.
MARTIN: No-no-no, don’t get up. I can …
(Squeak of the kitchen door opening.)
WENDY: Oh, I can do that.
(Martin groans.)
WENDY (a little breathlessly): Go and sit down.
MARTIN: No, really, Mum, that’s … that’s not how the “looking after” thing works.
WENDY: But I’m fine, really. I …
MARTIN: I know. You could run a marathon. Would you like some tea?
WENDY: Oh, well, only if you’re making some.
MARTIN: I am making some. We’ve definitely established that.
WENDY: All right, then.
MARTIN: Good. Milk, one sugar still?
WENDY: Oh, just however it comes.
MARTIN: It comes however y… Fine.
(Pouring of water.)
WENDY: Oh, give me the chipped mug.
MARTIN: Well, I-I-I could do that, or we could both have mugs without chips!
WENDY: But I don’t mind the chipped mug.
MARTIN: I-I know you don’t mind it, but … Fine. There you are. Already-being-made tea, however it
comes, in a chipped mug. Just the way you like it.
WENDY: Dear, you-you’re very good to… Oh, Martin. You’re having coffee!
MARTIN: I know.
WENDY: I’d have had coffee.
MARTIN: Mum, two things: you don’t like coffee; and you’re not allowed to have coffee!
WENDY: It would have been fine.
MARTIN (loudly): Yes, absolutely fine, except you wouldn’t have enjoyed it and it might have given you a
heart attack!
WENDY: I’m sorry.
MARTIN (apologetically): No, no, Mum. I-I-I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m sorry.
WENDY: No, it was my fault. I’m sorry. I-I just don’t want to be any trouble, that’s all.
MARTIN (plaintively): I know. That’s the beautiful irony.
MARTIN (yawning): Morning, Carolyn.
CAROLYN: Good morning, bright eyes. Are you all right?
MARTIN: Mmm? Fine.
CAROLYN: Where’s Douglas?
MARTIN: He’s just … (he yawns) … He’s just … (he yawns again) … He’s just …
(The portacabin door opens.)
DOUGLAS: Good morning, Martin.
MARTIN: Well, he’s here now.
DOUGLAS (carefully): Oh. And good day to you.
CAROLYN (carefully): Good day to you too.
MARTIN: What’s going on?
DOUGLAS (carefully): That damned game, where speech must be kept down to words of one sound.
MARTIN: You’re not still playing that?
CAROLYN: Two days now. It turns out we’re both quite good. (Carefully) Well, I can’t brief like this.
DOUGLAS (carefully): Fine. Brief him. I’ll go and do the … man-looks-at-plane bit.
(He goes out and closes the door.)
CAROLYN (relieved): Oh, thank heavens. So, Martin, here’s … Martin! (Sing-song) Mar-tin!
MARTIN (jerking awake): Ah, yes, hello! I’m awake.
CAROLYN: Martin. Are you fit to fly?
MARTIN: Mmm, yes! Just, um … (he yawns as he speaks) … six hours of Mum not being any trouble,
then another six being a Man with a Van, and now I’m gonna fly a plane, somewhere.
CAROLYN: No you’re not. You’re going home to bed.
(Martin sighs.)
CAROLYN: Douglas and I can do this one. Look, you need to talk to your family.
MARTIN: Oh, I can’t. They think whenever I’m not on a trip I’m available to look after Mum. They don’t
know about Icarus Removals.
CAROLYN: Well, tell them.
MARTIN: I can’t tell them! They’re little enough impressed by me being a pilot; how can I tell them that I
actually make a living out of Dad’s old van?
CAROLYN: I don’t know, but you need to find a way. However, for now, there is another solution.
MARTIN: Yes?
CAROLYN: Your mother, from the sounds of it, represents the immovable force of someone who needs
helping but does not want to be helped.
MARTIN: Yes!
CAROLYN: Well, we have at our disposal – do we not – the irresistible force of someone who loves
helping and doesn’t really notice whether people want him or not.

(Doorbell. A front door is opened.)

WENDY: Hello?
ARTHUR: Hello! Are you Mrs Skip?
WENDY: No, I’m … I’m sorry, you’ve got the wrong …
ARTHUR: Oh, sorry, I mean Mrs Crieff? Hello! I’m Arthur. Skip said you’d be expecting me?
WENDY: No, no. I told him I don’t want to bother a stranger. I’m really perfectly fine, honestly.
ARTHUR: Great! Can I come in?
(The door closes as Arthur comes in.)
WENDY: Oh, well, of course if I can get you a cup of tea or anything, but you mustn’t …
ARTHUR: Oh, brilliant! Can I make it?
WENDY: No, no, no! You sit down. I’ll make it.
ARTHUR: Yeah, but can I, though? It’s just – I’m really good at teas and coffees. It’s probably my best
thing. That, or crazy golf.
WENDY: Well, I-I-I suppose …
ARTHUR: Great!
(Footsteps as Arthur heads for the kitchen.)
ARTHUR: It’s, er, straight … it’s through here, is it? Ooh – and I’ve brought Boggle, Guess Who?,
Connect Four and Kerplunk.
WENDY: Are they … rappers?
ARTHUR: No, no, they’re games.
WENDY: Oh, you really mustn’t feel you have to waste your time entertaining me.
ARTHUR: No, no! I love playing games! But I can never get anyone to play with me!
WENDY: Oh. Well, I-I-I don’t think I’d be very good.
ARTHUR: Well, it’d be brilliant if you weren’t, because I am awful. And also, I’ve brought, er, two jigsaws,
a book of Word Searches, and some cables from my drawer.
WENDY: Some cables? Why did you bring those?
ARTHUR: Well, they sort of came out along with everything else, and I thought we could have fun trying
to untangle them.

(In flight.)
CAROLYN (carefully): Well. Since my son is not on the plane, I may as well make the hot drinks. Would
you like one?
DOUGLAS: That’d be most kind, thanks.
[Transcriber’s note: does “That’d” count as two syllables?!]
CAROLYN: Tea?
DOUGLAS: No, could I have …
(Long pause.)
DOUGLAS (carefully): … the one that is not tea?
CAROLYN: “The one that is not tea.” Which one is that?
DOUGLAS: You know what it is.
CAROLYN: Beer! Oh, dear Doug, no! You can’t have beer!
DOUGLAS: No, not beer.
CAROLYN: Wine! (Carefully) No, no wine for you, my friend.
DOUGLAS (carefully): I do not want wine. I want the hot drink made from a bean, which comes in types
such as Gold Blend.
CAROLYN (carefully): I think I know which one you mean, but I will need you to ask for it by name, just
to be sure.
DOUGLAS: Fine. I will have tea.

ARTHUR: Is that a bit of your beard, Wendy?

WENDY: I don’t think so. I think it’s your tail.
ARTHUR: Oh yeah, yeah.
(The front door opens.)
MARTIN: Hello? Mum?
WENDY: Oh, Martin! Hello! We’re in here!
(Internal door opens.)
MARTIN: Ooh, gosh! You’ve been busy!
ARTHUR: Hi, Skip! It turns out Wendy and I are amazing at jigsaws! Aren’t we, Wendy?
WENDY: Well, you’re very good.
ARTHUR: You’re very good. We’ve already done the two I brought, so, er, now we’ve mixed up the
pieces and we’re doing them both together.
MARTIN: What, to make one big …?
ARTHUR: Well, that’s what I’d hoped, too, but no – it looks like they’re coming out the same. Er, d’you
wanna help?
WENDY: Oh, no, you don’t have to.
MARTIN: No, I’d like to.
ARTHUR: Great! Any edges, give them to me. I am basically the edges guy.
(Sound of the three of them sorting through jigsaw pieces.)
WENDY: Where have you parked your car?
MARTIN: Just round the corner.
WENDY: Oh, don’t do that! Bring it onto the drive. It’ll be safer.
MARTIN (chuckling): Safer than the mean streets of Wokingham?
WENDY: Yes.
MARTIN: It’ll be fine.
WENDY: Well, you know best.
MARTIN (a little hesitantly): Actually, Mum, I didn’t bring my car.
WENDY: Didn’t you, love?
MARTIN: No. I, er, I … came in the van – Dad’s old van.
WENDY: Oh, really? You’ve still got that running, have you?
ARTHUR: Yeah, it’s brilliant. Once, we nearly went to Devon.
MARTIN: Yes. Actually, Mum, as it happens, I, um, use it for work a bit, between trips – you know,
deliveries or removals, Man with a Van stuff. I’m a Man with a Van.
WENDY: Oh, Martin, that’s wonderful!
MARTIN: … Is it?
WENDY: Of course! What, li-li-like your own business?
MARTIN: Well … I suppose so.
WENDY: Oh, your dad would be ever so pleased.
MARTIN: Would he?
WENDY: Oh, yes! He always said you should have the van. Between you and me, Simon always
wanted it, but your dad said, “No, he’ll lose interest in a month, and he won’t change the oil or get it
MOTd. Martin should have it.” And now you’re running your own business with it. He’d be ever so proud!
MARTIN (softly): Yes. (In a normal tone) And of course, also I’m an airline pilot.
WENDY: Oh yes. Yes, he’d like that too.

(Flight deck door opens.)

CAROLYN: Well, then. Are you all set to go home?
DOUGLAS: Yes I am. And you? (Carefully) Are all the … folk in their seats?
CAROLYN (carefully): Yes. They are all … (At normal speed) Oh, I’m sick of this game.
DOUGLAS: Me too.
CAROLYN: We’re both just too good at it. Shall we call it a draw?
DOUGLAS: I think we should, yes.
(Pause.)
CAROLYN (carefully): And yet I note you have still not said a word with more than one sound in it.
DOUGLAS (carefully): And nor have you.
CAROLYN (slowly): No.
DOUGLAS (carefully): So. It seems it is … a sort of mate which has gone stale.
CAROLYN: Yes. Or does it?
(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS: Hey!
CAROLYN (into cabin address as naturally as she can): Good day, folks! We’ll all be on our way in just a
tick. But first, a few words from … the guy at the front in the hat!
DOUGLAS (angrily): Oh! Thanks. (Into cabin address, carefully) Well. Hi … guys. I am most glad to
have you all with me on the plane for this short trip from … here to the U.K. My name is … Doug
… (long pause) … Smith, and I am the one who will fly you this day. We will take one hour for our trip
and we fly at a height of … quite high up. But now let me pass you back to … the one who spoke just
now, who will take you through all the ways we keep you safe on board.
CAROLYN: Thank you! (Rapidly) Tell you what: just read the card on the back of the seat in front.
DOUGLAS (quietly): Oh!
(Sound of jigsaw pieces being moved around in the box.)
MARTIN: Another edge bit, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Thank you, Skip.
SIMON (coming in the front door): Hello, hello, hello! Anyone home?
WENDY: Oh, it’s Simon! Simon, we’re in here!
SIMON (opening the door and coming in): Mummo!
WENDY: Oh, Simon, you shouldn’t have come.
SIMON: Shouldn’t have come to see my poor old ma when she’s been wounded in the field? Try keeping
me away, that’s all!
MARTIN: We haven’t really needed to try for five days, have we?
SIMON: Martin! Come here, chap!
MARTIN: Oh, no, don’t …
SIMON: Big hug!
MARTIN: Mmm, it’s-it’s very nice to see you too, Simon.
SIMON: No, no, no, none of that. Big hug.
(Martin whimpers and groans, his voice muffled.)
WENDY (fondly): Ahh, lovely!
MARTIN (muffled): It’s not lovely!
SIMON: Ooh, it’s good to see you, eh?
MARTIN (muffled): Don’t lift me up!
SIMON: And up he goes!
MARTIN: No!
SIMON: Whee!
MARTIN: Put me down!
SIMON: He’s flying! Whee!
MARTIN: Put me down! Put me down!
WENDY (fondly): Ohh! It’s lovely to see you two having fun.
(Martin protests incoherently.)
SIMON: Now then, Mummo. Why didn’t you tell me you were poorly?
MARTIN: Well, I told you.
WENDY: Oh, I know how busy you are.
SIMON: Not too busy for you. Can’t have you languishing here with no-one to look after you, can we?
MARTIN: Not no-one.
WENDY: No, Martin’s been very good.
SIMON: Is that so? Well, good on you, chap, huh?
MARTIN: Thank you, Simon… No, no, no, wait, I …
SIMON: Now then, Mummo. First thing tomorrow I’m getting my doctor to take a look at you.
WENDY: Oh, there’s no need.
MARTIN: Your doctor? What doctor do you have?
SIMON: Good old Doc Smiley, of course.
MARTIN: What, Nathan Smiley, from school?
SIMON: That’s right! Remember him, do you?
MARTIN: Of course I remember him. He threw my briefcase on the Science Block. And he’s a podiatrist!
SIMON: And a bloody good one.
MARTIN: He won’t know anything about angina.
WENDY: Martin, perhaps we should let Simon do what he thinks best.
SIMON: Well, probably the best plan, chap, you know – but well done for sticking to your guns. Shows a
good spirit, huh? Keep it up.
MARTIN: Thank you, Simon… No!

DOUGLAS: Can’t you just stand up to him?

MARTIN: I try, but he just sort of steamrollers over me with his voice and his moustache.
DOUGLAS: With his moustache?
MARTIN: Really hard to argue with someone with a moustache that bushy.
DOUGLAS: I reckon I could have a crack at it.
MARTIN: I’m sure you could – you or Carolyn, but I’m afraid I’m not you or Carolyn. I’m me.
DOUGLAS: True – but you know me and Carolyn.
MARTIN: So?
DOUGLAS: Well, we’re driving to Stansted on Sunday, aren’t we? Perhaps we ought to call in on the
way and wish your mother well – the whole crew. In our uniforms.
MARTIN (delightedly): Oh, yes! Fantastic!

(Doorbell. The front door is opened.)

ARTHUR: Hi, Wendy! It’s me!
WENDY: Hello, Arthur.
ARTHUR: And, er, this is Mum.
CAROLYN and WENDY: Hello.
ARTHUR: Mum, this is Martin’s mum. Martin’s mum, this is my mum. That’s quite fun to say! And, er, this
is Martin, who you already know.
(Front door closes as everyone comes in.)
WENDY: Oh, Martin, look at you in your uniform. Aren’t you smart? Look at your hat!
CAROLYN: Quite a sight, isn’t it? Er, Carolyn.
CAITLIN: Caitlin. Let me take your coats.
CAROLYN: Oh, thank you.
CAITLIN: And your hat, Martin?
MARTIN: Er, no. It’s all right.
CAITLIN: Why? Aren’t you stopping?
MARTIN: Yes, but I … i-i-isn’t Simon here yet?
CAITLIN: Yes, he’s just through there. Why won’t you take your hat off?
MARTIN (calling out): Simon!
SIMON (from a nearby room): Hello, chap. Aren’t you coming through?
MARTIN: Er, yes – unless you want to come out here and, er …
SIMON: No, well, no-no point if you’re coming through, is there, now?
MARTIN: No, fine. (Quieter, irritated, to Caitlin) Go on, then. Take the hat.
(Thump as he throws his hat to her.)
CAITLIN: Oh! Thank you!
SIMON (his voice getting louder as he comes towards the hall): All right, all right, all right, what’s the big
hold-up out here, huh?
MARTIN: Oh, Simon! (Frantically, to Caitlin) Give it back! Give it back!
CAITLIN: Give what back?
MARTIN (his voice rising): My hat! Give me back my hat!
SIMON: Martin!
MARTIN: Simon! Hello. Sorry to be dressed like this. We’re, er, on our way to work. That’s my hat
Caitlin’s got.
SIMON: Good lord! Is it? Anyway – hug?
MARTIN: No, no, no. I’ll crease my uniform – my captain’s uniform.
SIMON: Ooh, I don’t think so. Looks pretty polyester-tastic to me. Come ’ere!
MARTIN (muffled, protesting): Don’t lift me. Please, don’t lift me.
SIMON: And up we go!
(The doorbell rings and the door is opened. Martin continues to protest in a muffled voice.)
DOUGLAS: Have I got the right house?
MARTIN (muffled): Put me down! Put me down!
SIMON: Who’s flying?!
(He chuckles.)
DOUGLAS: Yes, I think I have.
(Martin gasps for breath.)
WENDY: Come on in. The boys are just playing.
DOUGLAS: So I see.
SIMON: Ahh, there you go.
(Martin pants as Simon puts him down.)
MARTIN (breathlessly): Right, right. So, this is Wendy, Caitlin and Simon, and this is Douglas, my first
officer.
WENDY: Lovely to meet you.
CAITLIN: First officer? Is that like the captain’s captain?
DOUGLAS: Not quite, in fact.
MARTIN: I’m the captain. You know I’m the captain.
CAITLIN: Well, yes, but you’re not his captain, surely.
MARTIN: Yes, I am! Aren’t I, Douglas? Tell them.
CAROLYN (eagerly): Oh yes, do.
DOUGLAS: Oh yes. He is … (carefully) … he is my … That is who he is.
CAITLIN (surprised): Oh! And is he good?
DOUGLAS: Oh, yes! He is most … most … good.
MARTIN (flatly): Great. Thanks, Douglas. Terrific.
WENDY: Well, shall we go on through? After you, Mrs Knapp-Shappey.
CAROLYN: Oh, please, call me …
(She stops.)
DOUGLAS: Yes?
CAROLYN: … Ca.
MARTIN: “Ca”?
CAROLYN: Yes! Ca. Short for …
(She whines slightly.)
DOUGLAS: Yes?
CAROLYN: … fun. Short, for fun.
MARTIN: Oh no. You’re not still …
CAROLYN: What? (Stilted) All is well.
MARTIN: Okay, can I see you both in the kitchen please?

MARTIN (irritated): You’re still playing the game!

CAROLYN: What? No! Of course not!
MARTIN: You are!
DOUGLAS: What game?
MARTIN: Say “sausages” – either of you.
(Pause.)
DOUGLAS: I think not.
(Martin groans in frustration.)
MARTIN: You said you’d help me! That was the whole point! For once I was gonna look good in front of
my brother, and now you’re too busy playing your stupid game!
CAROLYN: Well, we can do both.
MARTIN: No you can’t! You sound like a couple of broken Speak and Spells.
DOUGLAS: That is a touch harsh.
MARTIN: Stop it! Okay, look: I’m declaring an amnesty. While you’re in this house, the game’s on hold,
okay?
CAROLYN: Suits me.
DOUGLAS: And me.
MARTIN: Good! Thank you.
DOUGLAS: Right, then, shall we go back in?
CAROLYN: Yes, let’s.
MARTIN: Wait a minute. Say “sausages”.
CAROLYN: You first.
DOUGLAS: No, you.
MARTIN: Oh, for heaven’s sakes! All together, after three. One, two, three …
(He draws in an expectant breath, then quietly screams in frustration when nobody speaks.)
MARTIN: Seriously! One … two … three …
DOUGLAS and CAROLYN (simultaneously): Sausages!
MARTIN: Thank you!
CAROLYN: Oh! That’s a relief!
(Martin lets out a relieved sigh.)
CAROLYN: Antidisestablishmentarianism.
DOUGLAS: Excellent! Shall we re-combine with the familial gathering in the vestibule?
CAROLYN: Assuredly!

WENDY: Is everything okay? You mustn’t stay if you need to go.

MARTIN: No-no-no. It’s all fine.
CAITLIN: What were you arguing about?
MARTIN: Nothing. Just discussing a procedural … aviation matter.
SIMON: Right. Because it sounded like you were all shouting “sausages”.
CAROLYN: Yes; a small contretemps concerning the catering arrangements, but Martin sorted it all out.
DOUGLAS: As usual.
SIMON: What was the problem?
MARTIN: The problem was … the-the problem was what we should serve on our next flight – and the
solution was sausages.
SIMON: Ah, yeah, not sure, Martin. Take another pass at that if I were you. You’re forgetting the, er,
kosher chaps.
MARTIN: No I’m not. I meant beef sausages.
SIMON: Ah, now, you see, well if you get any Hindus, then they won’t like that. No, no. I think your best
bet is …
MARTIN (interrupting): No! There aren’t any Hindus! It’s all fine!
WENDY: I’m sure it is, love, but why don’t you listen to Simon’s idea?
MARTIN (high-pitched and frantic under his breath): Douglas!
DOUGLAS: So, Simon. I didn’t introduce myself properly before. I’m Douglas. I’m Martin’s first officer –
his junior – his second in command.
SIMON: Well, pleased to meet you. I must say, you look more my idea of a pilot than old Martin here.
DOUGLAS: Really? You look exactly my idea of a council administrator.
SIMON: Well, senior administrator.
DOUGLAS: Oh, really? Senior. Gosh.
CAROLYN: The sights you must have seen.
SIMON: Yes, well, I … I could tell you a few stories.
DOUGLAS: Please, do.
(Awkward pause.)
SIMON: Well, you know – mustn’t talk shop, you know.
CAROLYN: Oh, but it would be such a treat for us! We’ve been dying to hear more, ever since Martin
told us all about you the other day as we flew over Monte Carlo.
DOUGLAS: Was it Monte Carlo, Carolyn? I think it might have been Uganda.
CAROLYN: Oh, yes, of course, when we took those nice cameramen to film mountain gorillas.
DOUGLAS: Sorry. The-the trips rather blur into one after a bit.
CAROLYN: Well, except for the ones like St Petersburg, where we had a bird strike on take-off and
Martin landed us on one engine.
DOUGLAS: Hmm!
WENDY: Martin! Did you?!
ARTHUR: Oh, he was brilliant.
MARTIN: Well, you know, just part of the job.
DOUGLAS: Huh! Well, it’s my job too, but I went to pieces.
CAROLYN: Started crying.
DOUGLAS: I’m not ashamed to admit it.
CAROLYN: Like a schoolgirl.
DOUGLAS: That’ll do. But Martin here slapped me across the face, told me not to be a damned fool,
and landed the plane single-handed, fighting the crosswind all the way down to the icy runway and
saving all our lives.
WENDY: Martin!
CAITLIN: That’s amazing!
DOUGLAS: But I’m sorry – we’re getting sidetracked. You were going to tell us your story, Simon.
SIMON: … Yeah. Yes. Well, er, I would, but, um, but, you know, b-best not. Official Secrets Act, you
know.
CAROLYN: Oh, of course.
DOUGLAS: Say no more.

CAROLYN: Very nice to meet you, Wendy. Sorry we can’t stay longer.
WENDY: Oh, no. Thank you for stopping.
(Front door opens.)
WENDY: It was lovely to see you all.
ARTHUR: Bye, Wendy!
WENDY: Bye, Arthur.
(Footsteps as Carolyn, Arthur and Douglas walk away.)
WENDY: Goodbye, Martin, love.
MARTIN: Bye, Mum. See you Wednesday.
WENDY: Yes. And I’m ever so glad you told me about Icarus.
MARTIN: Thanks, Mum. I’m glad y… Icarus?
WENDY: I-Isn’t that what it’s called? Icarus Removals?
MARTIN: Yes, but I didn’t tell you that.
WENDY: Didn’t you? I-I-I think you did.
MARTIN: No.
WENDY: Oh. Well.
MARTIN: You knew already?
WENDY: Well, honestly, Martin, I might not be a techno, but I know enough to type my own son’s name
into Google every so often.
MARTIN: What about the others? Do they know?
WENDY: I don’t know. I … they might do. I think they probably do, actually. (She sniffs.) Yes, they do.
MARTIN: They never said anything.
WENDY: Of course not. You clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so they didn’t. They’re ever so fond of
you, Martin – especially Simon. So, er, don’t do anything like that to him again, will you? Once is
enough.
MARTIN: Do what? What do you mean?
WENDY: So nice to meet your friends. Bye, love. Love you.
MARTIN (quietly, thoughtfully): … Love you too.

(On the street.)

DOUGLAS: All okay?
MARTIN: Er, yes. I-I think so. You don’t think we were too mean to Simon, do you?
DOUGLAS: Good lord, no!
CAROLYN: I don’t think so. Why – do you feel bad?
MARTIN: Er, maybe a bit bad, but also, sort of mainly AMAZING! (He laughs with delight.) I’m sorry, I
know it’s petty, but it was AMAZING! (He laughs again.) Thank you so much.
CAROLYN: Oh, not at all. I know what it’s like. Well, you’ve met Ruth. She still makes me feel like a five-
year-old.
MARTIN (sighing): You know, I think I could handle him if it weren’t for that moustache.
DOUGLAS: I do think you set too much store by moustaches.
CAROLYN: Ah-ha! “Moustaches”!
MARTIN: What?
CAROLYN: Three syllables. I win!
DOUGLAS: But we’re not playing! We’re on a truce!
CAROLYN: No! No we’re not! “While we’re in this house” – that was the truce.
DOUGLAS: But you’ve used lots of long words since we left!
CAROLYN: Have I? (Deliberately staccato) What – when I told you how Ruth can make me feel five
years old?(She laughs with delight, talking more normally) No! That was a trap, straight into which you
blundered, First Officer Heffalump.
MARTIN: Okay, my turn now. I didn’t get a proper go on the plane.
ARTHUR: Well, hang on: I haven’t had a go at all.
DOUGLAS: … You want a go, Arthur?
ARTHUR: Course I do.
DOUGLAS: All right, then. Your time starts … now.
ARTHUR: Brilliant!
DOUGLAS: Short, but sweet.

SEASON 4 – EPISODE 5: Xinzhou

This week, Xinzhou!

(Arthur is idly humming In the Bleak Midwinter to himself as he rubs and pats at something outdoors. A
strong wind is blowing.)
ARTHUR: I wish I had a carrot.
(Crunch of approaching footsteps.)
ARTHUR: Oh, hi, guys!
CAROLYN (a little breathlessly): Twenty-one minutes to go. Come on, come on, come on! Where is
Martin?
DOUGLAS: His hat blew off.
CAROLYN: Blew off? How did it blow off? It’s bigger than he is. (Calling out) Martin!
MARTIN (some distance away): Yes! Just-just coming!
CAROLYN: Leave your blasted hat! Nineteen minutes!
MARTIN: Yes, I know. I just … Got it!
CAROLYN: Well, come on, then! Arthur, is the cabin ready?
ARTHUR: Er, yeah. Cargo loaded, food loaded, cabin checked; and I’ve nearly finished this snowman.
CAROLYN: Why are you building a snowman?
ARTHUR: … It’s snowy.
(Trotting footsteps.)
MARTIN: Here I am.
CAROLYN: At last.
(Martin pants.)
CAROLYN: Can’t you get a chin strap for that thing?
DOUGLAS: Don’t give him ideas.
(Plane door opens.)
CAROLYN: All right. Everyone in.
(Footsteps on the metal steps.)
CAROLYN: Right. Eighteen minutes to dusk. Martin, come on! In-in-in!
MARTIN: Yes, but-but-but I’m just …
CAROLYN: This is not the time or the place to admire the beauty of China in the snow.
DOUGLAS: To be fair, it is the place.
CAROLYN: Douglas. (a) Shut up; (b) go and talk to the Tower.
DOUGLAS: But having carried out (a), how can I …
CAROLYN: Now.
(Flight deck door opens and closes.)
CAROLYN: Right, Martin: do the walk-around.
MARTIN: I was about to do the walk-around and you said, “In-in-in.”
CAROLYN: And now I’m saying, “Out-out-out.” Go!
(Martin sighs. The cabin door opens and Martin walks down the steps.)
CAROLYN: Right, Arthur: get ready for take-off.
ARTHUR: Okay. … Ready.
CAROLYN: Good.
ARTHUR: So, given that I am ready, and Skip’ll be a few minutes doing the walk-round, can I very
quickly finish my snowman?
CAROLYN: No!
ARTHUR (frustrated): Oh!

DOUGLAS (into radio): Xinzhou Tower, this is Golf Echo Romeo Tango India. Request start for Fitton.
XINZHOU ATC (over radio): Roger, Golf Tango India, cleared to start. Be advised the airfield closes at
dusk.
DOUGLAS: Thank you, Tower. We know. The scheme we’ve come up with – and I think you’ll admire its
simplicity – is to take off before that.
ATC: Golf Tango India, please repeat?
DOUGLAS: Roger, clear to start.
(Radio off. Flight deck door opens. Martin lets out a noisy shudder.)
DOUGLAS: Good heavens! It’s Frosty the Snow-pilot!
MARTIN: Okay, I’ve done the walk-around, but then …
DOUGLAS: Well, all’s going smoothly in here … oh, except another bit’s fallen off GERTI.
MARTIN: Oh, God. Which one?
DOUGLAS: The APU start-up’s failed.
MARTIN: Oh no!
DOUGLAS: Luckily, its final act before it expired was to start up the APU. So firstly, it died doing what it
loved; and secondly, we’re still good to go.
MARTIN: Good! Now, come and look at the snow.
DOUGLAS: I can see it from here, Martin. It’s lovely. Sit down, let’s go.
MARTIN: No – I’m worried about it.
DOUGLAS: Oh, Martin, no. Please.
MARTIN: You’ll waste more time arguing about it than looking at it.
DOUGLAS (tetchily): Right. Fine.

(Footsteps in deep snow.)

DOUGLAS (somewhat high-pitched with the cold): Yes, it’s absolutely fine. Come on!
MARTIN: No, I … I-I-I just think it looks a bit slushy.
DOUGLAS: It’s not slushy at all! It’s lovely, dry, fluffy snow. If it was slushy, I couldn’t make a snowball
out of it, and yet, look.
MARTIN: Yeah, but it … it-it’s not a proper snowball. It hasn’t got much structural integrity …
(Thump of the snowball hitting Martin. He cries out.)
DOUGLAS: Seems all right to me.
MARTIN: I did know you were going to do that.
DOUGLAS: And yet you didn’t duck.
MARTIN: Yes, but look: if you just scoop it lightly …
(Inside the plane.)
ARTHUR: Oh, that’s not fair.
CAROLYN: What isn’t?
ARTHUR: Well, look out the window. If there wasn’t time for me to finish my snowman, how come Martin
and Douglas get to do that?
CAROLYN: Oh, good grief!
(Outside.)
MARTIN: You see? It’s still spattering before impact. That’s why it’s not safe …
CAROLYN (walking down the steps): Gentlemen, I hate to intrude on your pilot-y winter wonderland, but
we have eleven minutes to get this thing in the air.
MARTIN: Carolyn, I think the snow on the wings might be too slushy for take-off.
DOUGLAS: And I think it’s absolutely fine.
CAROLYN: And so you’re settling it with a snowball fight.
MARTIN: No; slushy snow won’t hold its shape in any great volume, whereas dry snow …
DOUGLAS: Uh, Martin.
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: Take a look at that. One of Arthur’s finest snowmen. You can’t make that out of slush.
MARTIN: … Oh. Oh – oh well. It must be fine, then.
DOUGLAS: Yep. So everyone back on. We’re flying tonight!
(Footsteps going back up the steps.)
DOUGLAS: Arthur?
ARTHUR: Yeah?
DOUGLAS: Your snowman saved the day.
ARTHUR: Brilliant.
(Radio on.)
DOUGLAS (into radio): Tower, this is Golf Tango India at the holding point, runway one-eight, ready for
take-off.
ATC: Roger. Stand by for clearance.
(Radio off.)
MARTIN: Yes! We actually did it!
DOUGLAS: We surprisingly did – and with four minutes in hand!
MARTIN (sniffing): That’s funny … (He sniffs again.) Can you … can you smell bacon?
DOUGLAS (sniffing): No.
MARTIN: Really? I c… I can definitely smell bacon.
DOUGLAS: Martin, is this your ‘street’ way of saying you think there’s a policeman on the plane?
MARTIN: No-no, seriously. You-you-you really can’t smell it?
DOUGLAS: No.
MARTIN: Really? Oh dear. Does it … does it mean something when you smell bacon?
DOUGLAS: Ah, well, that’s one for the philosophers.
MARTIN: Seriously – because … because if you think you smell burning toast, that means you might be
having a stroke. What are you having if you can smell bacon?
DOUGLAS: Breakfast?
(Martin sighs in exasperation.)
CAROLYN (through the closed flight deck door): Oy! Drivers! What’s going on up there? Are we going or
not?
(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS (over cabin address): Good evening, Carolyns and Arthurs. This is your Douglas speaking.
I’m delighted to tell you that four hours in a Chinese traffic jam have not been in vain and we are
awaiting clearance to leave the mysterious Orient and return to the obvious Fitton.
CAROLYN and ARTHUR: Hooray!
DOUGLAS: I’m joined in the flight deck by Martin, who will be your Martin today.
MARTIN: Hello!
DOUGLAS: Your cabin service attendants will be you, and I have no doubt they will be doing everything
they possibly can to make the pilots’ flight as peaceful and pleasant as possible.
CAROLYN: I won’t! I shall be fast asleep throughout.
DOUGLAS: … which is actually a very good start. Please sit back, relax …
ATC (over radio): Golf Tango India.
DOUGLAS (into radio): Roger, Tower.
ATC: Clearance for take-off denied.
DOUGLAS: What?! Why?
ATC: You have left item of cargo on your stand. Please return and pick it up.
MARTIN: Oh, no, no, no! We haven’t! I did the walk-around! I’m absolutely certain there was nothing left
on the ground.
ATC: I can see it from here – about one metre high, half metre wide, white in colour.
DOUGLAS: It’s a snowman! It’s just a snowman!
ATC: Please return and pick it up.
DOUGLAS: But we can’t possibly do that before dusk!
ATC: Dawn is in eight hours and four minutes. Good night!
(Radio off.)

ARTHUR: I’m really sorry.

CAROLYN: No, it’s-it’s all right.
ARTHUR (plaintively): It was just a snowman.
MARTIN: Yes.
ARTHUR: And you’ve got to remember, it did save the day … before it ruined the day.
CAROLYN: Right. Well, this has been so much fun, let’s do it all again tomorrow morning. Douglas, go
and sort us out a taxi back to the hotel. Martin, shut GERTI down. Arthur, sit still and don’t build any
snowmen.
MARTIN (hesitantly): … Shut the plane down? Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Oh, God.
CAROLYN: What now?
DOUGLAS: The APU starter motor’s down, and if we shut it down, we can’t start it back up again.
ARTHUR: Oh no! … What’s the APU?
MARTIN: Auxiliary Power Unit.
ARTHUR: Oh no! … What’s the Auxiliary Power Unit?
MARTIN: It powers the plane when the engines aren’t on.
ARTHUR: Right.
CAROLYN: Well, that’s all right. We-we won’t need any power before we turn the engines back on.
DOUGLAS: Really? And what will we do to start the engines? Rub two sticks together?
CAROLYN: So … we have to leave the APU running ’til dawn.
DOUGLAS: Yes.
CAROLYN: And we can’t leave the plane with it running.
MARTIN: Nope.
CAROLYN: So we are all sleeping on GERTI tonight.
(Slight pause.)
ARTHUR: BRILLIANT!

MARTIN: Okay. So I’ve put three of the seats back as far as they’ll go, and I’ve got all the blankets out of
the emergency kit.
DOUGLAS: How cosy. And who’s sleeping in the aisle?
ARTHUR: Me! It looked more fun.
DOUGLAS: Hmm. Well, much as I adore a slumber party, I think I’ll just sit in the flight deck and read,
actually. I thought I was operating tonight. I’ve had three coffees.
MARTIN: Y-e-s. Thing is, though, Douglas, I’m afraid you sort of have to sleep.
DOUGLAS: Why?
MARTIN: Well, we both have to get at least five hours’ sleep, or we’ll be out of hours to fly tomorrow.
DOUGLAS: Martin, I’ll be fine. One night in nineteen seventy-nine, I stayed awake for five days.
CAROLYN: One night?
DOUGLAS: And what a night.
MARTIN: Yes, well, nonetheless, legally …
DOUGLAS: Yes, all right.
(Carolyn sniffs.)
CAROLYN: Arthur? Are you cooking bacon?
ARTHUR: No.
MARTIN: Ah! You see? I told you.
CAROLYN: What did you tell who?
MARTIN: I told you I could smell bacon! Douglas said he couldn’t.
CAROLYN: Yes, yes, definitely fried bacon. What is it?
MARTIN: I dunno. Can you smell it, Arthur?
(Arthur sniffs.)
ARTHUR: Not really – but smell isn’t my best sense.
DOUGLAS: Dare one ask what is your best sense, Arthur?
ARTHUR: Oh, touch, definitely. We had this game in Science once where you had to work out what
things were by feeling them in a bag, and I got nearly all of them – even grapes.
MARTIN: Have you got any bacon? I really fancy some now.
ARTHUR: No, but I-I could go and do the dinners.
CAROLYN: Ooh, yes. I’m ravenous.
MARTIN: Me too. What are we having?
ARTHUR: Two chicken; two lamb.
MARTIN: Ah, great! Quick as you can, then.
ARTHUR: Right-o!
(Galley curtain rattles as it is opened and then closed.)
CAROLYN: Damn.
DOUGLAS: What?
CAROLYN: Oh, nothing. I … I just realised I-I’m not going to be back in time for Tosca.
DOUGLAS: Oh dear. That won’t go down well with Herc the Berk.
CAROLYN: Do you mind not calling him that?
DOUGLAS: I’m sorry. Hercules the Berkules.
CAROLYN: Anyway, I wasn’t going with him. He’s in Zurich.
DOUGLAS: I didn’t know Air Cal flew to Zurich.
CAROLYN: They don’t. He’s, um, he’s house-hunting.
MARTIN: … Is he?
CAROLYN: Mmm, mmm. Yes – he might … might move there.
DOUGLAS: Might he?
CAROLYN: Yes … if he wants to.
MARTIN: And might you go with him?
CAROLYN: Of course not! Why ever would I?
MARTIN: Well, you have been going out for a year and a half.
CAROLYN: Sixteen months. And we haven’t been “going out”; we’ve just been … often in the same
place.
DOUGLAS: How romantic(!)
MARTIN: So why might he move to Zurich?
CAROLYN: Well … Now look, this is secret, all right? Swiss Airways are launching internationally and
they’ve taken over Air Caledonia, so Herc either has to move to Zurich or take early retirement.
MARTIN: Swiss Airways is going international?
CAROLYN: Yes … although that wasn’t really the focus of my story.
MARTIN: Oh, sorry. It’s just … th-th-they’ll be recruiting, then, will they?
CAROLYN: Ah, I see! Yes! Yes – and you should apply.
DOUGLAS: Oh. Should he?
CAROLYN: Yes, of course he should. I keeping telling him he should be looking for other jobs.
DOUGLAS: Do you indeed?
CAROLYN: Yes! I’m fed up with not being able to pay him. He needs to spread his wings.
DOUGLAS: Even as we fold ours.
MARTIN: Do you not think I should apply, then, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You could. I mean, why not? You never know. But they’re a
prestigious airline.
MARTIN: Right.
DOUGLAS: I mean, by all means throw your hat into the ring. I just wonder if there might be a less
intimidating ring to aim for, first time.
(Galley curtain rattles as it is opened.)
ARTHUR: Er, Mum?
CAROLYN: Yes?
ARTHUR: A quick question: you know those small chickens you get where everyone has one each?
CAROLYN: Yes.
ARTHUR: What are they called?
CAROLYN: Poussin.
ARTHUR: Oh. Not ‘baby chickens’.
CAROLYN: No.
ARTHUR: Oh. Chaps, you know how we were talking about mistakes?
MARTIN: What have you done?
ARTHUR: … and how they happen to all of us and it’s just one of those things?
CAROLYN: What have you done?
ARTHUR (frantically): It should have made it clearer! When I was ordering the catering, there was one
called ‘baby chicken’ and I thought they’d be those little ones, and I love those because you feel like a
giant! But they didn’t mean that! It-it meant these.
CAROLYN: So … the catering you have laid on, Arthur, for four people trapped in a plane overnight, is
two jars of chicken-flavoured baby food?
ARTHUR: No! That’s not all. There’s two lamb-flavoured ones as well.
DOUGLAS: What did you think ‘baby lamb’ was?
ARTHUR: Well, all lambs are baby lambs.
MARTIN: And-and-and what about breakfast?
ARTHUR: I didn’t order breakfast.
MARTIN: Why not?
ARTHUR: I thought we’d be full from dinner.
MARTIN (frustrated): Oh!

(Rattling of a spoon in a small glass jar.)

CAROLYN: Ooh, well. I’m stuffed(!)
MARTIN: Hmm.
CAROLYN: Very nearly four teaspoons of vaguely chicken-flavoured purée. Ah, couldn’t eat another
thing(!)
MARTIN: Are-are-are-are you sure you’re not gonna have yours, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: I’ve rarely been surer about anything.
ARTHUR: I quite like mine. I might get it again. It’s nice not having to bother with chewing.
CAROLYN: All right. Well, we have feasted. Now let us slumber. Shall I turn out the light?
MARTIN and ARTHUR: Yeah.
DOUGLAS: No! This is ridiculous! I’m not in the least tired.
CAROLYN: Nevertheless.
(Click.)
CAROLYN: Arthur. Say something.
ARTHUR: Ooh! Okay! What shall I say?
CAROLYN: Well, anything, just so I know where you are and I don’t tread on you getting back to my
seat.
ARTHUR: Oh, right! (Half-singing) ♪ Here I am, don’t tread on me. Here I am, don’t tread on me. Here I
am, don’t tread on me. Here I am, don’t tread on me … ♪
CAROLYN: Yes, yes, all right! You’re safe. Good night, all.
ARTHUR, MARTIN and DOUGLAS: Good night.
(Shuffling, and clearing of throats.)
DOUGLAS: All right, here’s a game.
MARTIN: No, no, seriously, Douglas! I will not let us fly if we don’t get some sleep.
DOUGLAS: This will help us sleep; take our mind off the discomfort and the hunger, and the delicious
aroma of mysterious bacon.
MARTIN: All right, all right! All right. What game?
DOUGLAS: Question and Answer Film Double Bills.
MARTIN: What do you mean?
DOUGLAS: Who Framed Roger Rabbit? Gandhi.
MARTIN: Okay. Er … Hang on, hang on.
DOUGLAS: Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? Fight Club!
MARTIN: You always do this! You always do this! You always-always save up loads before you
announce what the game is.
DOUGLAS: I do no such thing.
(Martin sighs.)
CAROLYN: O Brother, Where Art Thou? Notting Hill.
DOUGLAS: Ah, hallo. I thought you were asleep.
CAROLYN: I am asleep.
MARTIN: Okay, okay, okay, okay! How Green Was My Valley?
DOUGLAS: Yes?
MARTIN: Seven.
[Transcriber’s note: as in ‘Se7en’]
DOUGLAS: “Seven”?! Your valley was seven green?
MARTIN: Yes. Out of ten. I think the scale is implicit.
DOUGLAS: Fair enough. Okay. Who Shot Liberty …
MARTIN: The thing is: I don’t think this is the sort of game that makes you sleepy.
DOUGLAS: All right. You suggest one, then.
MARTIN: All right. How about Fizz Buzz?
ARTHUR: Brilliant!
MARTIN: Oh, d’you know Fizz Buzz?
ARTHUR: No, but I love the name.
MARTIN: Well, well, you count round the circle, but for any number that’s a multiple of three, you say,
“Fizz,” and any number that’s a multiple of five, you say, “Buzz.”
ARTHUR: It’s more maths-y than the name makes it sound.
MARTIN: So, it-it-it’s quite sort of hypnotic. Let’s just, let’s just try one.
DOUGLAS: All right. One.
MARTIN: Two.
ARTHUR: Three.
DOUGLAS: Well, that was unexpected(!)
MARTIN: No, Arthur, um, any multiple of three, you say, “Fizz.”
ARTHUR: I know! But three isn’t a multiple of three. It’s just three.
MARTIN: It’s one three. One time… Look, just trust me, okay?
ARTHUR: Okay.
DOUGLAS: One.
MARTIN: Two.
ARTHUR: … Fizz.
CAROLYN: Four.
MARTIN: Buzz.
DOUGLAS: Fizz.
ARTHUR: Five.
MARTIN: No. Listen, Arthur …
CAROLYN: Martin, Martin, speaking as the woman who spent what felt like most of the nineteen eighties
trying to teach Arthur fractions, I suggest you give in gracefully.
MARTIN: Fine.
ARTHUR: No! Look, Skip, it’s a good game. It’s just a bit over-complicated. I know – how about, it-it’s
instead of odd numbers, you say, “Fizz,” and instead of even numbers, you say, “Buzz.”
MARTIN: Arthur, that-that would just be …
DOUGLAS: It does sound quite soporific, though. … Fizz.
MARTIN (unwillingly): Buzz.
ARTHUR (quietly): One, two … (Louder) Fizz.
CAROLYN: Buzz.
MARTIN (yawning): Fizz.
DOUGLAS: Buzz.
ARTHUR (quietly): One, two, three, four, five, six … (Louder) Fizz.
CAROLYN (sleepily): Buzz.
MARTIN (almost asleep): Fizz.
(There’s an electronic buzz.)
ARTHUR: Wow! GERTI’s playing!
(The buzzing continues.)
MARTIN: What’s-what’s happening?
DOUGLAS: Is that the APU warning?
MARTIN: Er-er-er, er, I’ll go and see.
ARTHUR: Ow!
MARTIN: Oops! Sorry, Arthur!
DOUGLAS: I’ll come too.
ARTHUR (frantically): ♪ Here I am, don’t tread on me. Here I am, don’t tread on me. Here I am … ♪
MARTIN (from the flight deck): Yes, it’s the APU.
DOUGLAS: Oh, what’s up with it now? Isn’t it enough we’re baby-sitting the damn thing?
MARTIN: Well, it says, er … it’s over-heating.
DOUGLAS: Of course it is. Dear old GERTI: cover her in snow and she gets a hot flush.
MARTIN: Ooh! “Cover her in snow.” If the snow is blowing horizontally … er, which it is, it might be
blocking up the inlet.

MARTIN (putting on his coat): Okay, ready.

(The cabin door is opened.)
ARTHUR: Good luck, Skip!
MARTIN: Thanks.
(The door closes.)
ARTHUR: What’s he gonna do?
DOUGLAS: The captain is a man of immense mechanical aptitude, and it is accordingly his plan to fine-
tune the running of the AP Unit by finding a hole at the back of the plane and waggling a stick in it.
ARTHUR: And will that work?
DOUGLAS: Oh yes.

(The cabin door opens.)

MARTIN: Done it.
ARTHUR: Well done, Skip!
MARTIN (shivering with the cold): Ooh! Give me a hand with my coat, Arthur.
(Sound of Arthur helping Martin take his coat off.)
MARTIN: But it’s, er, it’s gathering up in there pretty fast. I-I tried rigging up a sort of cover for it but
there’s nothing to fix it to, so it just keeps blowing off.
(Carolyn sniffs.)
CAROLYN: Ooh! It’s that bacon smell again. It must be you, Martin. It was fine until you took your coat
off.
MARTIN: I do not smell of bacon!
ARTHUR: Ooh, you do a bit, Skip.
DOUGLAS: I still can’t smell anything. Perhaps it’s one of those shared delusions.
MARTIN: Hang on, hang on, hang on. (He sniffs himself.) It is me! It’s my shirt! My shirt smells of fried
bacon!
ARTHUR: Ah, yeah! Wow, that’s brilliant! You could market those.
CAROLYN: Yes, I – I really don’t think he could.
ARTHUR: I’d buy one.
MARTIN: But how can my shirt smell of bacon?
CAROLYN: Have you changed your detergent recently?
MARTIN: Not to bacon!
ARTHUR: Have you rubbed any bacon on your shirt?
MARTIN: No! I’ve not been near any bacon.
CAROLYN: Douglas – you’re very quiet.
DOUGLAS: Yes, well, I have nothing to say. It’s baffling. I’m baffled.
MARTIN: It’s you, isn’t it? You made my shirt all … baconey.
DOUGLAS: I assure you, I haven’t touched your shirt. Scout’s honour.
CAROLYN: All right. Enough of this. It’s one o’clock; you’ve got six hours left to get five hours’ sleep, so
get cracking.
DOUGLAS: Have you ever thought of recording a relaxation tape?
(They settle down.)
ARTHUR: Ooh! Can we play more Fizz Buzz?
CAROLYN: No, we cannot. Ready … lights out.
(Click.)
ARTHUR: ♪ Here I am, don’t tread on me. Here I am, don’t tread on me. Here I am, don’t tread on me. ♪
(He continues singing.)
MARTIN: I have to say, Carolyn – it-it did seem to work last time.
CAROLYN: Yes, but it’s so moronic! It’s-it’s just “fizz” and “buzz.”
ARTHUR: ♪ Here I am, don’t tread on me. ♪
CAROLYN: Arthur! You’re safe.
ARTHUR: Okay. But we can make it more complicated – like … I know! Instead of the, er, numbers
thing, it’s, um, if someone says, “Fizz,” you have to say, “Buzz.”
DOUGLAS: That’s you making it more complicated.
ARTHUR: Let’s just try it.
DOUGLAS: All right. Fizz.
ARTHUR: Buzz!
DOUGLAS: … It’s quite a short game, isn’t it?
ARTHUR: Yeah, okay; might need another rule. Um … how about if-if-if someone says, “Buzz,” you
have to say something?
MARTIN: Like what?
ARTHUR: Er … (singing) ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
CAROLYN: No, something sensible.
DOUGLAS: Yes! Heaven forfend the game should be contaminated by silliness.
ARTHUR: Er … I can’t think of anything else.
CAROLYN: Well, I’m not saying, “Have a banana.”
ARTHUR: It’s not “Have a banana,” it’s ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪ Like the song!
CAROLYN: What song?
ARTHUR: The … the ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪ song. I don’t really know it except for one bit.
DOUGLAS (singing): ♪ Let’s all go down the Strand … ♪
(Silence.)
ARTHUR: You all right, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: That’s the song! That’s where you say, ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
ARTHUR: But you didn’t say, “Buzz.”
DOUGLAS: But you just … you just made that up.
ARTHUR: Well, I mean, the whole thing’s made up, Douglas. It’s not like it’s the law!
DOUGLAS: … Fine. (Singing raucously) ♪ Let’s all go down the Strand ♪. Buzz.
ARTHUR: ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
MARTIN: Can I – can I just clarify the rules?
DOUGLAS: Oh, goodie.
MARTIN: If someone says, “Fizz” …
ARTHUR: Buzz.
MARTIN: … you have to say, “Buzz” …
ARTHUR: ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
MARTIN: … and then when someone says, “Buzz” …
ARTHUR: ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
MARTIN: … you say ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
ARTHUR: Right! Yeah! So, I’ll start. Fizz!
MARTIN: Buzz.
DOUGLAS: Carolyn, care to do the honours?
CAROLYN: No. I’m not saying anyth…
ARTHUR: Go on, Mum! Try it! It’s really fun to say!
CAROLYN: No!
DOUGLAS: Fine. ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
(Silence.)
DOUGLAS: Still not a long game.
MARTIN: Well, what about if there was some sort of external cue, like, um … well, if someone says your
name, you have to say, “Fizz.”
ARTHUR: Oh, that’s brilliant, Skip!
MARTIN: Fizz.
DOUGLAS: Buzz.
ARTHUR: ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪ It works! Skip, you’re a genius!
MARTIN: Fizz!
DOUGLAS: Buzz.
ARTHUR: ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪ How did you think of it, Skip?!
CAROLYN: Arthur, will you stop saying, “Skip”?
MARTIN: Fizz!
DOUGLAS: Buzz!
ARTHUR, MARTIN and DOUGLAS: ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
CAROLYN: Stop it! Stop, stop, stop, all of you!
ARTHUR: Sorry, Mum. ♪ ’ave … ♪
CAROLYN: Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah.
ARTHUR: Sorry!
CAROLYN: All right. Enough. Two of us have to sleep, and all of us need to. So, no more games, no
more chat.(Her voice becomes lilting.) We’re just going to lie here quietly, until we drift off gently to sleep.
(The boys sigh as they settle down. A couple of seconds later, GERTI’s APU warning buzzes.)
MARTIN, DOUGLAS and ARTHUR: ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
CAROLYN (exasperated): Oh!

(GERTI’s APU warning starts to buzz again. Everyone groans sleepily.)

MARTIN (yawning): It’s your turn, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: It can’t be my turn again.
ARTHUR (yawning): I haven’t had a turn. Can I go?
DOUGLAS: I don’t see why not. Follow our footprints in the snow, and it’s the hole below the tail about
the size of a jam jar. Clear the snow out and come back.
ARTHUR (yawning): Right-o. Brilliant.
(Sound of him getting up.)
ARTHUR (tiredly): ♪ Here I am, don’t tread on me. Here I am, don’t tread on me. ♪
CAROLYN: It’s you moving!
ARTHUR: Oh yeah. Okay, back soon!
(The cabin door opens.)
CAROLYN: Turn the light back off after you.
ARTHUR: Okay!
(The light switch clicks and the cabin door closes. Martin sighs sleepily.)
CAROLYN: So is it just going to keep doing this every twenty minutes?
MARTIN: Well, as long as it keeps snowing, yes.
CAROLYN: Well, can’t you do something, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Such as what?
CAROLYN: I don’t know – one of those things you do. Can’t you make some sort of cover for it?
DOUGLAS: Well, we can’t block it while it’s in use. That’s the whole point – and it’s just a hole, five foot
up in the side of the plane. There’s nothing to hang a cover on.
(Carolyn sighs. There’s silence for a moment.)
CAROLYN: Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Spiderman.
DOUGLAS: Ooh!
MARTIN (strained, through gritted teeth): I am so hungry!
DOUGLAS: There’s still my jar of baby food if you want it.
MARTIN: Huh? Oh! You’re sure you’re not hungry?
DOUGLAS: No, I had something at the hotel.
MARTIN: Did you?! Well, no-one else did. We were all complaining there was no food.
DOUGLAS: Yes, well – I rustled something up.
MARTIN: Did you really? And could that possibly have anything to do with why my shirt smells of bacon?
DOUGLAS: How could it possibly have anything to do with that?
MARTIN: I don’t know. (In a dramatic and suspicious voice) But somehow.

DOUGLAS: What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? Twelve Monkeys.

MARTIN: Er, would you really let Herc go to Zurich, Carolyn?
CAROLYN: It’s not a question of letting him. He’s a grown man.
MARTIN: Well, yes, but would he stay if you asked him to?
CAROLYN (slowly): … So I have been led to believe.
MARTIN: So it is a question of letting him.
CAROLYN: Go to sleep.
MARTIN: Mmm.
DOUGLAS: What about you, Martin? If Swiss Airways took you, you’d have to live in Zurich too.
MARTIN (snippily): Oh, I thought I wasn’t going to apply. I thought they were too good for me.
DOUGLAS: Oh, I-I didn’t say that.
MARTIN: No, you just thought it really loudly.
DOUGLAS: But would you move to Switzerland?
MARTIN: If someone would let me fly airliners, I’d live anywhere they wanted me to and … how far is
Zurich from Vaduz?
CAROLYN: Ooh, about fifty miles or so, I think. Why?
DOUGLAS: Oh, I see! Duxford went well, did it?
CAROLYN: What’s Duxford?
DOUGLAS: Duxford Air Museum is where Martin recently escorted a charming young woman from
Liechtenstein. And when I say, “from,” I mean the princess of.
CAROLYN: What, that snotty woman we flew?
MARTIN: Umm, she’s nicer when you get to know her.
DOUGLAS: So? How did it go?
MARTIN: How did what go?
DOUGLAS: Duxford! How was it?
MARTIN: It was excellent, as always.
DOUGLAS: Learn anything new?(!)
MARTIN: Well, no – it’s really aimed at the lay person rather than the professional pilot …
DOUGLAS: I didn’t mean about aviation!
MARTIN: Douglas!
DOUGLAS: Oh, keep your hair on! I’m not asking for the gory details … but did you get on?
MARTIN: Yes, we did. She was nice. It was a nice day. It was … nice to be with her. She was … very
nice.
DOUGLAS: Ah, love. It brings out the poet in us all.
MARTIN: I’m not in love!
CAROLYN: So are you seeing her again?
MARTIN: Mmmmight be, next week.
DOUGLAS: Ooh! The difficult second date!
MARTIN: Yes, well, third, actually.
DOUGLAS: Oh, really? When was the second?
MARTIN: Er, well, you know when we had that day off in Delhi? She happened to be in Agra.
DOUGLAS: Really? What for?
MARTIN: … The, um … (he clears his throat nervously) … the king of Sweden’s birthday in the grounds
of the Taj Mahal, so we went to that.
DOUGLAS: I see. You took her to Duxford Air Museum; she took you to a private party at the Taj Mahal.
Where were you going next week?
MARTIN: … Croydon Airport Visitors’ Centre.
DOUGLAS: You spoil that girl.
MARTIN: It was her idea!
DOUGLAS: Well, you must certainly apply to SA, then.
MARTIN: Really?
DOUGLAS: Absolutely! Major airline recruiting just down the road from your girlfriend?
MARTIN: She’s not my girlfriend …
DOUGLAS: Too good a chance to miss. Even if you don’t get in, the interview will be good practice; and
if youdo, you might even get to fly with someone who … doesn’t pinch your travel iron out of your flight
bag to fry himself a bacon butty.
MARTIN: I knew it was you!
DOUGLAS: Sorry. I didn’t know you were going to use it.
CAROLYN: You know, Arthur’s been gone a very long time.
DOUGLAS: Yes, he has, rather.
MARTIN: Oh lord. He’s probably still searching for the inlet. I’ll go and get him.
(The cabin door opens. Footsteps on the metal steps, then they stop.)
MARTIN: Guys? There’s … there’s someone outside by the tail!
DOUGLAS: Well, that’ll be Arthur.
MARTIN: No-no-no! Much taller. I think he’s … I think he’s inspecting the plane.
CAROLYN: Really?
(She gets up and joins Martin on the steps.)
MARTIN: See?
CAROLYN: Oh, good lord. Um … (she clears her throat and calls out) … hallo? (Sing-song) Hall-o!
ARTHUR (sing-song from a short distance away): Hall-o!
CAROLYN: Arthur? Is that you?
ARTHUR: Er, that isn’t, but-but this is! Hello!
CAROLYN: Well, what is that?
ARTHUR: Before I tell you, I-I promise you I’ll knock him down again before we leave.
CAROLYN (despairingly): Another snowman. Oh, good lord, it’s a compulsion.
ARTHUR: No, it-it-it’s only to keep me busy, because I thought I’d stay out here and keep the intake
clear while you guys get some sleep.
CAROLYN: Yeah, well, it was a very sweet thought, dear, but you can’t possibly stay out here in the cold
all night. Now, come on in.
DOUGLAS: Oh! Of course!
MARTIN: What?
DOUGLAS: Arthur can’t, but I know who can. Arthur! Put your back against this with me. Now, one, two,
three,shove.
ARTHUR: I don’t think it moves, Douglas.
(Scraping of solid snow against the ground.)
ARTHUR: Ooh, it does, though!
CAROLYN: What on earth are you doing?
DOUGLAS: I’m getting us some sleep. You see, what Arthur has very cleverly accidentally done …
(The snowman continues to slide across the ground. Arthur and Douglas grunt with the effort.)
DOUGLAS: … is build us …
(More sliding snowman.)
DOUGLAS: … a six foot snow pedestal.
ARTHUR: No, it’s a snowman.
DOUGLAS: It’s both.
CAROLYN: A pedestal? For what?
DOUGLAS: For the MJN patent APU Intake Snow Guard! Martin, give me your hat.
MARTIN: What? No!
DOUGLAS: Oh, go on. Swiss Airways’ll give you a much nicer one.
MARTIN: I thought you said that was too intimidating a ring to throw my hat into.
DOUGLAS: Did I? Well, I was forgetting, of course, just how intimidating your hat is.
MARTIN: Ah.
(Crunch as Douglas puts the hat on top of the snowman.)
DOUGLAS: There. Covers the hole perfectly. I knew it must be good for something.
ARTHUR: Oh, wow! So, hang on: my-my first snowman saved but then ruined the day, but
my second snowman – and Martin’s hat, and Douglas’ idea, and Mum’s … er …
CAROLYN: … aeroplane.
ARTHUR: … aeroplane saved the night!
DOUGLAS: Exactly, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Fizz!
MARTIN: Buzz!
CAROLYN: Oh, what the hell. ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
SEASON 4 – EPISODE 6: Yverdon-Les-Bains

This week, Yverdon-les-Bains!

ARTHUR: He’s here!

(The portacabin door opens.)
CAROLYN (sounding genuinely welcoming): Hello, Martin!
DOUGLAS: Martin!
ARTHUR: Hi, Skip.
MARTIN (suspiciously): Hello. What’s going on? Why are you … why are you all looking at me like that?
ARTHUR: A letter came for you, Skip.
MARTIN: A letter?
CAROLYN: With a Swiss stamp.
MARTIN: Oh God!
(He slits the envelope open.)
MARTIN: Oh God!
DOUGLAS: We’re hoping Heidi’s finally replied to your fan mail.
MARTIN (nervously): Er, okay, okay, okay, er … Head of Personnel, Swiss Airways, Yverdon-les-Bains.
“Dear Mr. Creuff …”
DOUGLAS: Good start.
MARTIN: “Thank you for attending our simulator check and technical exam. Your results are … very
interesting, and we would like to invite you to an interview to our headquarters in Yverdon on the twenty-
first of March.” I’ve got an interview! (Almost singing) I’ve got an interview!
CAROLYN: Well done, Martin!
MARTIN (loudly): Oh God, I’ve got an interview!!
ARTHUR: You’ll be brilliant.
MARTIN: I won’t! I’m terrible at interviews!
DOUGLAS: Ooh – bad news from the wall chart. We’re taking some of Mr. Alyakhin’s yacht-fanciers
yacht-shopping that day.
CAROLYN: Well, you can do that by yourself, can’t you?
DOUGLAS: Certainly I can, but I thought Mr. Alyakhin insisted on the full complement of pilots – if you
can call two a ‘complement’.
CAROLYN: Oh, I’m sure it’ll all be fine.
DOUGLAS: All right, then let’s see … Well, Martin, if you relieve me of the pleasure of the dawn flight to
Doncaster I’m down for on the nineteenth, I’ll be in hours to do the Antibes solo.
MARTIN: Oh, thanks, Douglas … although, actually, you’d be in hours even if I didn’t do …
DOUGLAS: Yes, but then what would I get out of it?
(Airport tannoy bing-bing-bong.)
FEMALE VOICE (over tannoy): Passengers for Flight SA23 to Yverdon, we should be ready to board
you within ten minutes.
MARTIN: Right, right, right-right-right-right-right.
(He drags in a nervous breath.)
MARTIN: Anyone got any more practice questions?
ARTHUR: What’s been your best crash?
MARTIN: Anyone apart from Arthur.
DOUGLAS: Oh, here’s an old one: you’re on a stopover in Bangkok, and your captain meets you in the
hotel bar wearing a red cocktail dress. What do you say?
MARTIN: Oh, right. Er, well, um … it’s not on company time or property … um, so in the spirit of
respecting his life choices, I’d …
DOUGLAS (interrupting): No, no. You tell her how well it goes with her earrings.
MARTIN: Oh, but that’s not fair! The question pre-supposes the …
CAROLYN: Don’t scare the boy, Douglas. They don’t really go in for trick ones these days, Martin. It’ll
just be things like: what would you say is your worst quality?
MARTIN: Oh-oh-oh-oh, yes; I’ve got a great one for this. I saw it on a website. My worst quality, I’m
afraid, is that I am sometimes a bit too much of a perfectionist.
(Carolyn and Douglas both groan.)
CAROLYN: Whatever you do, don’t say that.
MARTIN: W-w-why not? Don’t you see? It’s really clever because it sounds like I’m criticising myself,
but-but actually, being a perfectionist is a good thing for a pilot to be, so …
CAROLYN: Yes, I understand the fiendish cunning of it, Martin. I just fear it may have lost the first fine
flush of youth.
(Martin sighs in exasperation.)
CAROLYN: You should say something that shows you’re genuinely aware of your weak points as a pilot.
DOUGLAS: Oooh!
CAROLYN: Yes, thank you, Douglas. I am not looking for contributions from the floor.
ARTHUR: Ooh-ooh, I know. Make it something, um, you can’t help but will make them feel sorry for you.
Like, um, your worst quality is, er, you’re blind.
(Airport tannoy bing-bing-bong.)
FEMALE VOICE (over tannoy): Ladies and gentlemen, Flight SA23 is now ready for boarding.
MARTIN (anxious and high-pitched): Ooh. Okay!
(He drags in a breath.)
MARTIN: Okay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay.
CAROLYN: Good luck, Martin, and remember: be calm …
MARTIN: Mmm-hmm.
CAROLYN: … take your time …
MARTIN: Yes.
DOUGLAS: Be assertive …
CAROLYN: … but relaxed …
MARTIN: Yes, yes!
ARTHUR: Good luck, Skip! Just be yourself!
CAROLYN and DOUGLAS (simultaneously): No!!
DOUGLAS: Don’t do that!
CAROLYN: Be a version of yourself.
DOUGLAS: Quite a different version from usual.
MARTIN (tetchily): Oh, all right. Thank you.
ARTHUR (calling after him as he walks away): Good luck, Skip! I hope you get the job! But I also hope
you stay with us! So overall, I hope, er … I don’t know what I hope!
DOUGLAS: Tell you what, Arthur, give it another crack and try stopping after ‘good luck’.
ARTHUR (calling out): Good luck! (To Douglas) Oh, yeah, that is better.

(Portacabin door opens.)

DOUGLAS: Good morning, Arthur. Now, then: are the self-loading freight all aboard?
ARTHUR: The what?
DOUGLAS: The passengers.
ARTHUR: Oh, yeah, yeah. Yeah, they’re all on.
DOUGLAS: Very well. Then ho! for sunny Antibes.
ARTHUR: Ho!
(Office door opens.)
CAROLYN: Er, one moment, Douglas. I’m going to come with you.
DOUGLAS: Good! The more the merrier.
CAROLYN: And so is Herc.
DOUGLAS: … up to a point.
HERC: Always nice to see you too, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: I don’t know where we’re going to put him, though; sixteen passengers, no spare seats.
CAROLYN: Yes, well, there is one.
DOUGLAS: What? … No! Oh, oh no, absolutely not.
CAROLYN: I’m sorry, Douglas, but you were quite right. Mr. Alyakhin insists on two pilots.
DOUGLAS: But he’s not even type-rated on GERTI.
CAROLYN: I know. He doesn’t need to be. He’s not going to do any actual flying.
DOUGLAS: Oh, I see. So I’m going to do all the work and he’s just going to sit in the first officer’s seat
looking ornamental.
CAROLYN: Almost right.
DOUGLAS (increasingly indignantly): … Oh, no, no, no, no!
HERC: I’m sorry, Douglas, but I am a captain.
DOUGLAS: You’re not my captain.
HERC: No, but your captain will be busy trying to persuade my new firm to let him be my first officer; so I
suppose in a way that makes me your captain’s captain.
DOUGLAS: No it doesn’t!
HERC: Besides, I only have a captain’s uniform.
DOUGLAS (grimly): I am prepared to swap uniforms.
HERC: I’m not entirely sure mine would fit you.
DOUGLAS: Yes it would!
HERC: D’you think?
DOUGLAS: Yes! It would be fine!
HERC: The sleeves would be fine …
CAROLYN: Enough! Everyone will wear their own clothes and sit in their own seats. Good God, I work in
a kindergarten.
ARTHUR: Er, Mum?
CAROLYN: Yes, Arthur?
ARTHUR: Just checking: who am I gonna be?
CAROLYN: You’re going to be you.
ARTHUR: Oh good. That’s the one I know.

(Knock on a door.)
DEROCHE (female, Swiss accent [allegedly]) (muffled): Come in.
(The door opens.)
DEROCHE: Good morning. My name is Élise Deroche. You must be Mr. Creuff.
MARTIN: Er, Crieff, actually.
DEROCHE: Oh, my apologies. Mr. Crieff.
MARTIN: Er, well, Captain, actually. … Sorry, I don’t mean, “Call me Captain”! I-I-I just thought it would
be useful for you to know that I … am one.
(He chuckles nervously.)
DEROCHE: I see. Well, a pleasure to meet you, Captain Crieff.
MARTIN: And you, Mrs … Dddd-drouch.
DEROCHE: Well, since we are being exact, I am also a captain.
MARTIN (quickly): That doesn’t surprise me.
DEROCHE: I’m sorry?
MARTIN: I mean, I’m not surprised you’re a woman.
DEROCHE: Why would you be surprised …?
MARTIN: Oh, no! No reason! I wouldn’t be, and I’m not. That’s my point.
DEROCHE: What is your point?
MARTIN: That if you wore a red dress in a hotel, I wouldn’t assume you were a man!
(Pause.)
MARTIN (quietly): Shall I … um … shall I, shall I just go?
DEROCHE: Fortunately for you, we record all our interviews and it is company policy that the interview
does not begin until the recording starts.
MARTIN: Oh, thank God!
(Click and beep as Captain Deroche starts the recording machine.)
DEROCHE: So: good morning, Captain Crieff.
MARTIN: Oh, please – call me Martin.

(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS (over cabin address): Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Douglas
Richardson and I am your pilot. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to my aircraft, and to introduce you to
my crew. In the cabin you’ll be looked after by Carolyn and Arthur, two colleagues for whom I have
the utmost respect. Also joining me today is … (he almost gargles the first letter of the name) Hhherc
Shipwright – which he assures me is a perfectly normal name – who’ll be helping me out with maps and
so on if the need arises.
(Bing-bong.)
HERC: If I can just add my voice to the first officer’s fulsome welcome. My name – and I don’t pretend
for a moment it’s a normal one, but there you go – is Captain Hercules Shipwright, and I fear it
momentarily slipped the first officer’s mind to mention that we’re going to Antibes at the height of thirty
thousand feet and a speed of four hundred knots.
(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS: … unless I decide to go higher, lower, faster or slower than that – in which case, that is
exactly what we’ll do.
(Bing-bong.)
CAROLYN: On behalf of the cabin crew, I’d like to add my voice to the torrential downpour of
announcements from the flight deck, and to assure passengers who might be planning on reading,
sleeping, or hearing themselves think, that they’re now entirely at an end.

DEROCHE: So: how good a pilot would you say you are, on a scale from one to ten? For instance, I
would say I am a six.
MARTIN: Right, okay. Er, w-well, I’m confident … er, but I’m not over-confident, so, um … five?
DEROCHE: Five?
MARTIN: No, no, too low, obviously. But, you know, I don’t want to say I’m a better pilot than you
because … because I’m not – I shouldn’t think.
DEROCHE: You might be.
MARTIN: I “might be”. Er, well, eight. Eight … eight’s too high. Is it? Nine and ten are definitely out.
(Chuckling) As I say, I’m not over-confident.
DEROCHE (mildly sarcastic): You don’t sound it.
MARTIN: No. I-I’m not. So, er, seven? (Instantly) No, not seven! Everyone says seven! (He chuckles
briefly.)Six. Can’t say six – you said six! Maybe it is eight. Can I check: what’s ‘one’ on the scale – a bad
pilot or someone who can’t fly at all?
DEROCHE: You decide.
MARTIN: All right. Er, well, if-if-if ‘one’ is the worst pilot who’s legal, then I’m a five … (Frantically and
very rapidly) … but a really good five, nearly a six, five point nine, well, five point eight; no-o-o, five point
nine, say five point eight five, yes.
DEROCHE: Thank you(!) No-one’s ever answered to two decimal places before.

(Flight deck door opens.)

ARTHUR: Cheese tray, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Thank you, Arthur. I believe I will take the Roquefort, and the Emmental, ooh, and the Brie.
Do help yourself to the others, Herc.
HERC: Really?! Either of them?!
DOUGLAS: Be my guest … because you are.
HERC: Well, thank you, but actually I’m a vegetarian.
DOUGLAS: Well, fine. Feel free to nibble wanly on a cracker.
HERC: I think not.
(Flight deck door opens again.)
ARTHUR: And fruit tray for Herc.
HERC: Thank you, Arthur.
DOUGLAS: Fruit tray?
ARTHUR: Yeah. Herc’s vegetarian, you see, Douglas, so he has a fruit tray.
(Short silence.)
DOUGLAS (petulantly): I want a fruit tray.
ARTHUR: I-I’m sorry. I only ordered one for Herc.
HERC: You’re welcome to an apple, Douglas, if you have room after all that cheese.
DOUGLAS (sulkily): Keep your apple.
ARTHUR: Ooh, I’ll have it!
HERC: You can have something more interesting if you like, Arthur. There’s, er, there’s guava; mango;
dragon fruit …
ARTHUR: Wow. Dragon fruit?!
HERC: Help yourself.
ARTHUR: Thanks, Herc!
(He takes and eats a piece.)
HERC: So, what do you think?
ARTHUR (with his mouth half full): Yeah, it’s quite nice. Mmm. It’sh not really what I was expecting. I-I
thought it’d be a bit more, um, I don’t know …
HERC: Dragony?
ARTHUR: Yeah, yeah, maybe. It’sh all right, though.
(He chuckles, then speaks with a muffled lisp.)
ARTHUR: I quite like what it does to your lips.
HERC: Your … your lips?
ARTHUR (even more muffled and lisping): Yeah, you know, the way it makesh them go all short of tingly
and funny. That ish quite dragony, I shuppose.
HERC: Ar-Arthur, are you all …
ARTHUR: It’sh a bit like that thing you get when you eat shtrawberriesh, which is good, becaush no-
one’ll let me eat shtrawberries any more.
DOUGLAS (groaning): Oh, no …
HERC: All right, all right. A-Arthur, keep calm and-and breathe regularly.
ARTHUR (muffled): I am calm. Shouldn’t I be calm?
(Intercom on.)
DOUGLAS: Carolyn – strawberry drill in the flight deck.
CAROLYN (exasperated, over intercom): Oh, for goodness’ sake.
ARTHUR (almost incomprehensible): I don’t need a thtrawberry drill!
HERC: Douglas, this is serious! He needs urgent medical attention!
DOUGLAS: All right, Buzz Lightyear, keep your helmet on. We do this about twice a year. All he needs
…
(Flight deck door opens and closes.)
CAROLYN: Arthur, come here.
ARTHUR: No, no, I’m fine.
CAROLYN: Good. Now, stay still.
ARTHUR (very muffled and swollen-mouthed): I don’t need it. It’sh fine. (He protests incoherently.) …
Ow!
CAROLYN: Good boy.
(Arthur groans.)
CAROLYN: Now: what is it you didn’t know had strawberries in it this time? Because if it’s strawberry
mousse again, I swear I will …
ARTHUR: No, I promise, I hagn’t had a thtrawberry; it wath a gragon froo.
CAROLYN: A what?
ARTHUR: A hhgrago froo.
CAROLYN: What?
ARTHUR: Froo-froo …
CAROLYN: Through …
ARTHUR: Throoo-t.
CAROLYN: Throoot … fruit!
ARTHUR: Gragon fruit.
CAROLYN: Grapefruit!
ARTHUR: Gragon froo!
CAROLYN: Kiwi fruit!
ARTHUR: Gragon …
(He makes the sound of flapping wings, then roars as best as he can with his swollen mouth.)
ARTHUR: … fwoo.
CAROLYN: Dragon fruit.
ARTHUR: Yeth! Thith ith actually quye a goo game, ithn’t it?

DEROCHE: So, you have a command already at, er, MJN Air.
MARTIN: That’s right.
DEROCHE: But you’re prepared to accept a drop in salary?
MARTIN: Errrr, yyyes.
DEROCHE: Because you are aware that our starting salary for first officers is only, er, in-in sterling,
twenty-two thousand pounds.
(Martin whimpers.)
MARTIN: Yes, well, I-I-I will make that sacrifice.
(Door opens.)
OSKAR (male, Swiss accent [supposedly]): Hi, hi. Élise, do you mind if I …
MARTIN: Oh. My. God.
DEROCHE: Of course.
OSKAR: Hi, hi. Good to meet you. I’m Oskar Bider.
MARTIN: I know!
OSKAR: I’m the CEO.
MARTIN: I know!
OSKAR: Call me Oskar.
MARTIN (plaintively): I’ll try!
OSKAR: So, guys, ignore me. I’m just sitting in. You won’t know I’m here.
MARTIN: Right(!)
OSKAR: Though I say that – I’m a pretty chatty guy, so maybe you will.
(Martin laughs nervously.)
MARTIN: C-c-c-c-can I just ask: d-d-d’you always sit on … on all the interviews?
OSKAR: No.
MARTIN: Right, just-just some of them?
OSKAR: No, I never do.
DEROCHE: All right. Shall we return to the interview?
OSKAR: Sure, sure.
(Martin gulps nervously.)
OSKAR: Does anyone want muffins? I can get some muffins sent up. No? Okay, carry on.

CAROLYN: All right, Elephant Man, how are you feeling?

ARTHUR (still very garbled and fuzzy): Oh much better. The only thing ish, my lipsh are shtill a dit numb.
CAROLYN: Yeah, all right, then. I suppose I’ll have to feed the animals myself.
ARTHUR: Oh, no, no, le’ me do it, I’m fine, honethtly.
CAROLYN: Offer me dinner.
ARTHUR: Good evening, thir. Woulg you like the taghlitelli or … or the boobooginyon? … I can’t say the
‘b’ … booboogi … boobooginyon!
CAROLYN: All right, it’ll do. Go on, off you go.
ARTHUR: Hhanks, Num!
(Galley curtain opens, then closes.)
ARTHUR: Good evening, thir. Woulg you care for the tagliatelle?
MAN (American[ish] accent): I don’t eat pasta.
ARTHUR: Oh dear.
MAN: Well, isn’t there an alternative?
ARTHUR: … Yeth.
MAN: Well, what is it?
ARTHUR: … The tagliatelle ish vewy nice.
MAN: I don’t want the tagliatelle. What is the alternative?
ARTHUR: Boof booginyon.
MAN: What?
ARTHUR: Oh, you know: boof – like, like, beef, like from a cow … booginyon, like … I don’t know what
that meanth. But look, this!
(He takes off the lid of the tray.)
MAN: Oh, stew!
ARTHUR: Well, that’th what I thaid it wath, but Nun says we ‘ave to call it boof booginyon.

DEROCHE: So, let’s talk about your results so far.

MARTIN: Ah, yes.
DEROCHE: Well, firstly, you’ll be pleased to know your references from your current airline are
excellent.
MARTIN: Oh! Are they?
DEROCHE: Indeed. Positively glowing report from your CEO, and another from your Chief Pilot.
MARTIN: Well, that’s very … from who?
DEROCHE: Your Chief Pilot – Mr. Richardson. He is most complimentary: “Myself apart, there is no-one
at MJN whose abilities as a pilot I rate higher.”
MARTIN: How kind(!)
DEROCHE: And we also request your CEO to select at random a member of the cabin crew to fill out a
questionnaire, rating you on various attributes from ‘poor’ to ‘very good’. In your case, the respondent
drew in and ticked an additional box at the end of each line, labelled ‘brilliant’.
MARTIN: Gosh! I wonder who that was?
OSKAR: You sounded great!
(Martin briefly laughs in an embarrassed way.)
DEROCHE: So we invited you to take a sim check and a technical exam.
MARTIN: Yes!
DEROCHE: Yes. Your results are rather curious reading. In your simulator exam, you were rated
‘adequate’ …
MARTIN: Oh! Good!
DEROCHE: No, ‘adequate’. But in your technical knowledge exam …
MARTIN: Yes?
DEROCHE: … you got ninety-nine percent.
MARTIN: Oh, good. That is good, isn’t it?
DEROCHE (hesitantly): … Yes.
OSKAR: Kind of amazing, actually, because the test is designed to return scores of between forty and
sixty percent. No-one’s ever got more than eighty-four percent.
MARTIN: Really? … (Thoughtfully) Ninety-nine percent. So I got a question wrong?
DEROCHE: Yes.
MARTIN: Which one?
DEROCHE: Er, “What increase in landing distance is required for a flap-thirty landing with auto spoilers
inoperable?”
MARTIN (instantly): Seven hundred and thirty feet.
DEROCHE: That’s … the right answer, yes. You put a hundred and thirty.
MARTIN (snorting derisively): I don’t think I did!
DEROCHE: You … you did. Look.
MARTIN: No! That’s a seven!
DEROCHE: Oh. … Well, then you got a hundred percent.
(Martin sighs happily.)
OSKAR: So, look, Martin – just between ourselves, what we’d kind of like to know is: how did you
cheat?
MARTIN: What?! I didn’t cheat!
DEROCHE: Nobody ever gets a hundred percent, Mr. Crieff.
OSKAR: It’s been driving us crazy! We’ve all looked at the footage; we just can’t see where you’re
getting the answers!
MARTIN: From my head!
DEROCHE: I took the paper myself, as an experiment. I got seventy-eight percent!
MARTIN: Yeah, but you said you were only six out of ten!
DEROCHE: There are questions that are designed to be unanswerable without consulting the manual.
They’re there for us to see how candidates cope under stress.
MARTIN: But I learned the manual.
OSKAR: You … learned it?
MARTIN: Yes!
DEROCHE: That’s impossible. It’s-it’s six hundred pages long.
MARTIN: I know – it took me ages.
OSKAR: But some of the questions weren’t even about our aircraft.
MARTIN: No, but those ones were easy. They were just general knowledge.
DEROCHE: We asked you which aircraft type KLM added in the winter of nineteen forty-eight!
MARTIN: Exactly! The Convair two-forty! Any twelve year old could tell you that!
OSKAR: … Okay. Well, it looks like we owe you an apology. Thanks for coming, and well done. You
broke the record!
MARTIN: Thank you!
OSKAR: So, you’re free to go.
MARTIN: … But … but-but, well, what about the rest of the interview?
OSKAR: Oh. … Yes, of course. Er, carry on the interview, Élise. I’ve … I’ve got to go, Martin, but great to
meet you!
MARTIN: Er, I-I’d like you to stay.
OSKAR: Yeah, wish I could, but Élise’ll look after you.
MARTIN (more firmly): I think you should stay.
OSKAR: Okay, the thing is, I like to keep things sort of casual, but I am the CEO of a kind of pretty huge
company. I get a bit busy.
MARTIN: Yes, I know, but I think you put aside more time than this to deal with the cheating thing, and
since you asked me to give up a day to come to Switzerland to interview for a job you had no intention of
giving me …(his voice becomes even more firm) … I would like you to give me ten minutes to try to
change your mind.
(Oskar draws in a long deep breath. Then he buzzes the intercom.)
OSKAR: Ute, can we get some muffins up here?

(Flight deck door opens.)

ARTHUR (still muffled and swollen): Hello, chaps.
HERC: Hello, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Cheas and coffees. Chea for you, Douglath, an’ coffee for you, Skik.
HERC: Thank you.
DOUGLAS: Wait a minute: coffee for who?
ARTHUR: Mmm?
DOUGLAS: What did you call him?
ARTHUR: Who, Skik? Skip.
DOUGLAS: He’s not ‘Skip’. Martin is Skip.
ARTHUR: Well, yeah, but it’sh jusht short for ‘Skipper’, isn’t it?
DOUGLAS: Yes! And he’s not the skipper. I’m the skipper, so don’t call him Skip.
ARTHUR: But I thought Shkipper jusht meant ‘Captain’.
DOUGLAS (his voice rising angrily): No. ‘Skipper’ means person in charge of the vessel, and as I am
the only one on board who is trained or qualified to fly her, I think you’ll find that I am the supreme
commander of th…
(He trails off.)
HERC: Y’all right, Commander?
DOUGLAS (horrified): What have I become?

DEROCHE: All right. Let’s talk about your experiences as a pilot.

MARTIN: Mmm-hmm.
DEROCHE: Can you think of a time when you were in conflict with someone professionally?
MARTIN (laughing): Oh God, yes!
DEROCHE: Really?
MARTIN: I mean, like hundreds!
OSKAR: Wow! You’re a bit fighty, huh? Wouldn’t have guessed it.
MARTIN: No! I mean … y-you know, professional disagreements, which are then discussed and
resolved professionally.
OSKAR: Okay, show me. Suppose you’re all ready to take off. Suddenly you realise: oh no! You’ve left
your licence at home. What do you do?
MARTIN: Oh, that’s easy.
OSKAR: Yes?
MARTIN: That wouldn’t happen.
OSKAR: Okay. But if it did?
MARTIN: But it wouldn’t. No, my licence is in a special inside pocket of my flight bag. I never take it out
except at Customs; and I check it’s there on leaving my home, on getting into my car, on leaving my car,
on entering the terminal, on leaving the terminal, and on entering the aircraft.
OSKAR: Why do you do that if you never take it out?
MARTIN: So that I can never leave it at home.
OSKAR: Okay, but say this time, somehow, you have.
MARTIN (laughing in disbelief): But how?!
OSKAR: Somehow – for the sake of argument.
(Martin sighs in frustration.)
MARTIN (unhappily): All right.
OSKAR: What would you do?
MARTIN: Well, I would immediately inform the captain what had happened, apologise profusely, explain
howliterally impossible it is that this has happened …
OSKAR: … but that it has happened …
MARTIN: … but that … (he sighs) … for the sake of argument, it has happened, and then I would go
home and get it.
OSKAR: Okay, great. So Élise is your captain – tell her.
MARTIN: Okay. Um … (He clears his throat.) Captain Duhrrrosh-sh … Élise. (He coughs.) I’m very sorry,
but I have – for the sake of argument – left my licence at home.
DEROCHE: You fool! Never mind – we’ll go without it.
MARTIN: Obviously we can’t do that, Captain, because it would be illegal …
DEROCHE (talking over him): Nonsense. The flight is within Europe; your airline I.D. will do.
MARTIN: Yes, but I’m afraid I left that behind as well.
DEROCHE: No you didn’t, or you wouldn’t have been allowed to board the plane.
MARTIN: Well, I must have done, because I keep my I.D. card in the same pocket.
OSKAR: But for the sake of argument, you didn’t.
MARTIN (tetchily): Fine! (Through gritted teeth) Very strange argument. (To Élise) Still, I don’t have a
licence and it’s illegal to fly without a licence.
DEROCHE: Technically, but it’s not as if anyone ever checks.
MARTIN: No, but it is illegal.
DEROCHE: But this airport closes at dusk.
MARTIN: Then we’ll have to go tomorrow!
DEROCHE: But there are two hundred people on board …
MARTIN (talking over her): We’ll have to find them hotels!
DEROCHE: It’s Christmas Day!
MARTIN: Merry Christmas!
DEROCHE: You are proposing to cost the company thousands and thousands of Euros for a technicality
which has no effect on air safety?!
MARTIN: Well, this is exactly why I’d never leave my licence at home!

DOUGLAS (hesitantly, anxiously): … and … it was as if I was seeing the whole world through Martin’s
eyes.
HERC: That sounds unnerving.
DOUGLAS: It was absolutely terrifying! I don’t know how he does it!
HERC: D’you think he’ll get the job?
DOUGLAS: I hope so.
HERC: You hope so?
DOUGLAS: Well, I suppose I feel the way any rat on a sinking ship would feel if he saw one of the other
rats leaping into a passing speed boat: pleased for my fellow rat …
HERC: … but a little jealous of his speed boat.
DOUGLAS: Yes.
(Flight deck door opens.)
CAROLYN: Whose speed boat?
DOUGLAS: Martin’s. I-I was saying …
CAROLYN: Oh, well, actually, I don’t care. But talking of Martin, where is it he’s having this interview?
DOUGLAS: Yverdon-les-Bains, near Geneva.
CAROLYN: Yyyes. Now that’s sort of on the way back for us, isn’t it?
DOUGLAS: Yyyes – it sort of is. I mean, it’s a very much going the pretty way …
CAROLYN: Yes, well, it’s only money. Shall we pop in and pick him up?

DEROCHE (tiredly): And finally, what would you say is your greatest weakness as a pilot?
MARTIN: I-I’m afraid I’m too much of a perfectionist.
(Deroche groans quietly.)
MARTIN: I try too hard to do every aspect of my job really well.
DEROCHE: That’s your greatest weakness?
MARTIN: Yes.
DEROCHE: I see. Thank you for…
MARTIN: I mean I worry too much.
DEROCHE: I’m sorry?
MARTIN: That’s what I meant to say. I-I-I worry too much … a bit. I don’t worry too much too much – I
just worry too much about the right amount, which is almost not at all. What I’m saying is I don’t get
panicky …(with a rueful laugh in his voice) … I do realise, by the way, that this, this may now sound a
… (he drags in a breath) … a bit panicky, especially now I’ve used the word ‘panicky’, but look-look-look,
the thing is … (a little agitatedly) … although sometimes I can appear a little agitated on the surface,
deep down I’m … (his voice becomes calmer) … actually really calm. I’m like a duck.
DEROCHE: You are like a duck?
MARTIN: Yeah, you know: I’m paddling like hell on top, but I’m very calm underneath. … Oh no. Oh no! I
mean, I-I’m like a capsized duck.
DEROCHE: Thank you.
MARTIN: Can I have another go?
DEROCHE: I don’t think so.
MARTIN: D’you wanna hear one you’ve never heard before? I’ll tell you one that I guarantee you
have neverheard before.
DEROCHE: Quickly, then.
MARTIN: My biggest weakness, as a pilot, is that I’m not very good at flying aeroplanes.
OSKAR: Well, you’re right about us not having heard it before.
MARTIN: I mean … (he sighs) … I’m good enough. Like the sim said, I’m adequate – adequate to the
task. But I … I don’t do it easily. It’s not second nature to me. On your scale of one to ten, if one is the
bare minimum of competence, I’m … about a four. And I used to be a one – no … (he chuckles
ruefully) … I used to be a zero, and then I took my CPL again … and then again … and then I was a
one, and then a two, and then a three, and now I’m a four. And I’m not finished yet. And that’s why
you should employ me. That’s why you’d be lucky to employ me, because if you’re not naturally good – if
you can’t rely on just knowing how to do it like Doug… l-like somepeople can, then you have to… well,
you have to be a perfectionist, actually – and I am one. And that’s why even when you’ve turned me
down, I’m gonna keep on applying – because flying is the perfect job, and I won’t settle for a life where I
don’t get to do it.
DEROCHE: Well – thank you for seeing us, Mr. Crieff. We’ll let you know as soon as we can.
OSKAR: Ohh. Can’t we just tell him now?
DEROCHE: We can, but it-it seems a little cruel.
OSKAR: You can start in June.
MARTIN: What?
DEROCHE (high-pitched with indignation): What?! Just because he made a nice speech?!
OSKAR: No, I kind of tuned out for that. But, come on – he’s a captain at thirty-six; he’s got our first
perfect exam score ever.
DEROCHE: But he did a terrible interview!
OSKAR: Sure, but he got me to stay in the room; and he wouldn’t fly without a licence. You see, Martin, I
really hate the stereotype we Swiss have as really precise and rule-following. I’m more of a kind of crazy
guy, you know?! But my pilots – I like pilots who do things by the book … and you’ve
actually memorised the book! Plus, the more pressure Élise put on you to break the rules, the more
confident you got. How’d you do that?!
MARTIN: … Well, I’ve had a lot of training.

(Distant bing-bing-bong of airport tannoy. A door opens.)

ARTHUR: Shkip, Shkip! Over here!
MARTIN: Arthur?! What are you doing here?!
ARTHUR: We’ve come to pick you up! The othersh are jusht coming – they didn’t want to run. How did it
go?
MARTIN: Well, it … Are you all right?
ARTHUR: Oh yeah, I’m fine. I had a … I had a dragon fruit and I shtill can’t shpeak properly. Everything
shounds like I’m really posh … and-and a little bit drunk.
MARTIN: What?!
ARTHUR: But it doeshn’t matter! How about you?! How did it go?
MARTIN: … I got it.
ARTHUR: Ohhh!
MARTIN (half-laughing as if he can’t believe it): They offered me the job right there and then! I-I-I can
start in three months!
ARTHUR: Wow! Skip! That’sh absholutely, er … (he chokes on his words) … jus’ what you wanted!
MARTIN: Just-just what I wanted, yes.
ARTHUR: Yeah, exactly! It’s briwiant!
MARTIN: … but it’s-it’s not brilliant for anyone else, is it?
ARTHUR: Oh, don’t say that, Skip. The Swissh guys’ll get used to you!
MARTIN: Yes, thank you, Arthur. I didn’t mean them – I meant you. MJN.
ARTHUR: Oh, we’ll be all right! We’ll find shtuff to do. I was thinking I could be a hotel guy – you know,
the ones with those huge bird cages for suitcases? I love those things.
MARTIN: Or I-I-I … I-I could just turn it down and … What do I need twenty-two thousand pounds a year
for?(!)
ARTHUR: Well, loads of stuff, Skip!
MARTIN: Yeah, yeah, Arthur, I know.
ARTHUR: Well, look, to be honest with you, Skip, I-I wouldn’t worry about it. Once Mum hears you’ve
got an offer, you won’t really have a choice. She’ll make sure you go.
MARTIN: Yes, but … I-I-I might have been joking.
(He laughs nervously.)
ARTHUR: What?
MARTIN (more firmly): I might have been joking about-about getting an offer.
ARTHUR: … Oh, right!
(He chuckles briefly.)
ARTHUR: I don’t get it. Were-were you joking?
MARTIN: I don’t know.
(The door opens again.)
CAROLYN: Ah. They’re in here.
MARTIN: Er, hi, Carolyn, Douglas.
DOUGLAS: Well?
MARTIN: Hi, Herc!
DOUGLAS: Never mind that. How did it go?
MARTIN: I-I, I-I-I was just telling Arthur about it.
ARTHUR: Yeah, well, I didn’t completely undershtand.
CAROLYN: Well, then, tell us! Did you get in?
MARTIN: … They’re going to let me know.