Ariane DeVere (arianedevere) wrote,
Ariane DeVere

Cabin Pressure Transcript: 2.6 Limerick

Cabin Pressure Transcript: 2.6 Limerick

Script by John Finnemore
Transcript by Ariane DeVere

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DOUGLAS (over cabin address system): 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. Really enormous. 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.)
MARTIN (over cabin address system): 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 own version. (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.
DOUGLAS: Rhymes for ‘flight.’
MARTIN: Er, ‘bite,’ ‘fight,’ ‘night,’ ‘right’ ...
DOUGLAS: Ah yes. Here’s one:
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?
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.
CAROLYN (into cabin address system): 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 cross Rrrrussell 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 ...
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?
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.
(Flight deck door closes.)
DOUGLAS: I don’t know when I’ve looked forward to a meal more.
CAROLYN: Oh, be quiet.
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 real squadron 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 ...
ARTHUR: What? Ooh, er, Justin, Jeffrey, Jilly, Jenny, Georgina.
MARTIN: It’s one half of a famous pair of lovers?
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!
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 ...
ARTHUR: ... you’d do a fish-free oboe check.
DOUGLAS: ... Yes. Not bad. Not good, though.
ARTHUR: Is it human?
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.)
(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?
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.
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.
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.
(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.
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. Thisthis 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 know some 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: 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.
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.
DOUGLAS: I mean, fair enough: points for Tai Chi teacher rather than tennis coach or dancing instructor, but basically familiar territory.
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?
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?
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 mish 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.
CAROLYN: And now, of course, you’re thinking of a horse Frankenstein, aren’t you?
CAROLYN: That’s my boy. No – he makes horses in the usual way horses make other horses.
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?
DOUGLAS: No! Like “Encore.”
ARTHUR: Boncore!
MARTIN (exasperated): ‘Bravo’!
ARTHUR: Oh! Yes, I knew that.
DOUGLAS: You really, really didn’t.
ARTHUR: Another!
ARTHUR: Go on, please, just one more. One last one.
DOUGLAS: All right. Erm, ‘G.’
(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!
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.)
DOUGLAS: One word.
(Slight pause.)
DOUGLAS, MARTIN and CAROLYN (simultaneously): Airplane.
ARTHUR (high-pitched in indignation): How did you know?!

Tags: cabin pressure, cabin pressure transcript

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