Script by John Finnemore
Transcript by Ariane DeVere
A link back to this page would be kind if you are cutting and pasting extracts from this transcript to post on your own blog, Tumblr etc.
Please do not link to this transcript on the cabin_pressure community, as they have their own transcribers and I in no way wish to invade their work. Thanks.
This week, Xinzhou!
(Please note: Due to a spambot being very fond of this page (there are over 300 spam entries which you can’t see but sadly I can!), I have locked this page against further comments.)
(Arthur is idly humming In the Bleak Midwinter to himself as he rubs 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.
MARTIN: Here I am.
CAROLYN: At last.
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 ...
(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.
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?
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!
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.
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: Your snowman saved the day.
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.
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?
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?
(Martin sighs in exasperation.)
CAROLYN (through the closed flight deck door): Oi! Drivers! What’s going on up there? Are we going or not?
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.
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!
ARTHUR: I’m really sorry.
CAROLYN: No, it’s-it’s all right.
ARTHUR (plaintively): It was just a snowman.
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.
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.
CAROLYN: And we can’t leave the plane with it running.
CAROLYN: So we are all sleeping on GERTI tonight.
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.
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: Arthur? Are you cooking bacon?
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: 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.
(Galley curtain rattles as it is opened and then closed.)
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.
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?
ARTHUR: A quick question: you know those small chickens you get where everyone has one each?
ARTHUR: What are they called?
ARTHUR: Oh. Not ‘baby chickens’.
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(!)
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: 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.
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?
[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?
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.
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: ... Fizz.
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.
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.
MARTIN (yawning): Fizz.
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.
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!
(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: 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.
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.
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 ... ♪
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” ...
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!
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!
DOUGLAS: Fine. ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
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!
ARTHUR: ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪ It works! Skip, you’re a genius!
ARTHUR: ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪ How did you think of it, Skip?!
CAROLYN: Arthur, will you stop saying, “Skip”?
ARTHUR, MARTIN and DOUGLAS: ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
CAROLYN: Stop it! Stop, stop, stop, all of you!
ARTHUR: Sorry, Mum. ♪ ’ave ... ♪
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.
(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.
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.
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!
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.
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 you do, 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.
(She gets up and joins Martin on the steps.)
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!
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.
(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.
CAROLYN: Oh, what the hell. ♪ ’ave a banana! ♪
Thanks to verityburns for the background checking she did for me while I was writing this transcript – which is probably the longest one I’ve ever done for Cabin Pressure episodes. So many short lines, but really complicated to type!