Season One Second Half

SCENE: At the Englishmansion, in the drawing room. Englishman is stood by the window wearing a three-piece pinstripe suit and holding a book in his hand. Welshman enters.

ENGLISHMAN: "Hello, Welshman, you dumbass crapwit."

WELSHMAN: "I beg your pardon, Englishman?! What was that for?"

E’MAN: "Just trying out my new American Phrasebook. Did you know that to make a sentence in English you need a noun and a verb – but in American you need a noun, a verb and the word ‘ass’?"

W’MAN: "I don’t think that’s true, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Ah-ah-ah! I think you mean, ‘I don’t think that’s ass true’, Welshman."

Welshman sighs and turns on the TV:

Much moaning and groaning coming from the TV set.

E’MAN: "BBC News 24 became a hardcore porn channel so gradually I hardly

noticed."

W’MAN: "Englishman, that is a hard core porn channel. To sign up to it you must have put in your credit card details and everything,"

E’MAN: "Is that what that was? I just thought that the Licence Fee had gone up again."

W’MAN: "Here, let me change the channel for you."

From TV: silky sultry voice "Coming up in the next hour on BBC News 24"…moaning and groaning.

E’MAN: "Agh! Turn it off, Welshman. There’s nothing but filth on TV today. Young people – should all be shot if you ask me. Or hanged – hanging’s just as good. Course, you can’t get good quality rope these days – all foreign rubbish. DRUGS! That’s the problem, Welshman."

W’MAN: "I thought the problem was filth on TV…or inferior quality rope."

E’MAN: "PAY ATTENTION, MAN! Hmm…yes, drugs. Drugs are at the heart of this or my name isn’t John Q. Englishman."

W’MAN: "That’s not your name."

E’MAN: "Quiet, you! Yes, drugs…but where can we find some,"

DOORBELL RINGS

W’MAN: "Why would we want to find any drugs?"

E’MAN: "Why? So that we can follow the dealer to his supplier, and the supplier to their supplier and so on up through the drug chain until we find the head poncho."

W’MAN: "You mean ‘honcho’."

E’MAN: "Quiet, you!"

Butler enters.

E’MAN: "Yes? Who was that at the door,"

BUTLER: "Drug dealer, sir. He thought you might want some drugs."

E’MAN: "Hmm, word spreads fast around here. So what did you tell him?"

BUTLER: "I sent him on his way, sir."

E’MAN: "Good work. I mean, what decade does he think it is? It isn’t the heady days of the Eighties anymore!"

<<FLASHBACK>> SCENE: In the drawing room of the Englishmansion. Everything is the same as today, except for a few executive toys scattered around e.g. Newton’s pendulum (but this one has real apples instead of chrome plated metal spheres), etc. Butler is serving Englishman a cup of tea:

BUTLER: "More cocaine in your tea, sir?" He takes a lump of cocaine from the sugar bowl with a pair of sugar tongs.

E’MAN: "Two rocks, please, Butler." Plop, plop.

<<FLASHBACK ENDS>>

E’MAN: "Anyway, this is the perfect opportunity for us to infiltrate the international drug ring. Let’s follow him. But we must do so inconspicuously so as not to arouse his suspicion. To the Bent-mobile!"

W’MAN: "You mean the Bentley?"

E’MAN: "Right, but I call it the Bent-mobile."

W’MAN: "You don’t think that the name might be misconstrued at all, do you, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "I don’t see how."

SCENE: Driving along in the Bentley – licence plate 1M BENT – driving through gay district very slowly (i.e at the walking pace of the drug dealer who keeps stopping to make sales - thus forcing the Bent-mobile to park up).

PEDESTRIAN #1: "Coo-ey!"

PEDESTRIAN #2: "Ooh! Get her!"

E’MAN: "What a pleasant area this is; the people are all so friendly."

W’MAN: "Englishman . . ." exasperated sigh "What would you understand? They’re all fags."

E’MAN: "Really?! They look a bit old for fags. I remember my fag back at Cambridge – small boy. Died of boot-polish poisoning… Happy days…"

W’MAN: "No, Englishman, not that kind of fag."

E’MAN: "Oh! You mean…" Englishman takes another look, "Well they’re certainly not cigarettes! So what on Earth are you talking about?"

W’MAN: "They’re faggots!"

E’MAN: "What about their faggots? I still don’t understand, Welshman – not one of them is carrying a bundle of sticks or that tasty meat dish to which you just referred."

W’MAN: "Never mind."

E’MAN: "You know, I worry about you sometimes, Welshman."

W’MAN: "Grrr."

E’MAN: "Ah, he’s going down that alley. We’ll continue on foot."

Englishman takes his umbrella and bowler hat from the car before he and Welshman head off down the alley.

SCENE: Deserted alley.

E’MAN: "Curses! We’ve lost him. Wait…" Englishman strains to hear the faint sound of voices, "This way,"

Englishman kicks in a door and bursts into the room – a makeshift drug lab.

E’MAN: "Freeze!"

The criminals push over the table between themselves and Englishman. All the vials, jars, tubing, etc used in the drug making process fall to the floor. A noxious cloud begins to fill the room as the criminals make their escape through the back door.

E’MAN: "Come on, Welshman! After them!"

W’MAN: "Are you sure it’s safe?"

E’MAN: "Yes, yes, the air’s perfectly safe to breathe," Draws in deep breath, CHOKE! CHOKE! "Did I say ‘safe to breathe’? I meant fatally toxic to all forms of life. So let’s hurry!"

Covering their mouths they cross the room.

SCENE: Englishman and Welshman emerge into the car park of a driving instruction business. The criminals speeds off in a car. Englishman gets into the nearest car along with Welshman. He stamps on the accelerator and they speed off.

E’MAN: "I’ll drive!" Englishman speeds away. At high speed he darts around one car after another in pursuit of the suspects. Up onto the pavement they go – pedestrians leaping from their path. Having performed at least a dozen death-defying manoeuvres Englishman casually remarks, "Amazing what they can do with cars these days, isn’t it?"

W’MAN: "Huh?"

E’MAN: "I must be steering using only the power of my mind,"

W’MAN: "Englishman! Slow down!"

E’MAN: "Hmm?"

W’MAN: "I’m steering! You're just accelerating!"

Camera cuts to sticker in car window "Dual-controls".

By now two police cars have also joined the chase. All the vehicles thunder towards a cross roads. The criminals, with a good lead over Englishman and Welshman, shoot through the red light. At that minute a petrol tanker pulls into their path. DUN DUN DURRRR!

Englishman and Welshman duck. The roof is torn off as the car passes under the main body of the tanker. Englishman looks back over his shoulder to see the police cars crash into the tanker and everything explodes in a breathtaking conflagration.

E’MAN: "Hmm, that was close. Step on it, Welshman!"

Welshman accelerates as instructed, but Englishman’s hat blows off.

E’MAN: "STOP THE CAR, WELSHMAN!"

Welshman stops the car.

W’MAN: "But, Englishman! They’re getting away!"

E’MAN: "Yes, but my hat. Why, some urchin or other undesirable could make off with it. That hat was given to me by the king of Siam,"

W’MAN: "I don’t recall that, Englishman. Are you sure?"

E’MAN: "Quite sure. It was before your time, Welshman. There I was securing a bulk order of opium for import to Britain when the king invited me to have tea with him because I was his country’s biggest buyer of opium. Of course, that was in the days before drugs were evil and before anyone knew that drugs could damage one’s mental faculties,"

W’MAN: "That still doesn’t explain the hat."

E’MAN: "What hat? AND WHY HAVE YOU STOPPED THE BLASTED CAR?! YOU’VE LET THEM GET CLEAN ANYWAY, YOU NINCOMPOOP! Honestly, Welshman, one more slip up like that and Colonial Man will be guesting in the next episode with the possibility of him taking over your role entirely. Is that understood?"

W’MAN: "Guesting? Episode? No, not really."

E’MAN: "Never mind. Just drive us back to the Englishmansion – do you think that you could at least manage to do that without fouling it up?"

W’MAN: "Yes, Englishman."

SCENE: Back at the Englishmansion.

E’MAN: "Drug dealers…drug dealers…we need to get jobs as drug dealers. Think, Welshman, think – how are we to get jobs as drug dealers so as to infiltrate their operation?"

W’MAN: "It would help if we knew which specific drug smugglers we wanted to work for."

E’MAN: "Well we know that – I overheard those two down the alley talking before we raided the place. It’s a ‘Crystal Meth’ and a ‘Mary Jane’ that are in charge of this operation,"

Welshman looks doubtful but keeps his mouth shut.

E’MAN: "Aha! I know how we can get jobs as drug dealers!"

W’MAN: "How?"

E’MAN: "The same way all normal people get jobs without access to the Old Boys network and whose fathers don’t own banks. We’ll go to the job centre."

W’MAN: "I’m not sure that drug dealer is really an occupation that…" Welshman trails off as Englishman shoots him a withering stare for this latest display of insubordination.

E’MAN: "Now then, we will proceed to the Job Centre disguised as ordinary working class folk. Or have you forgotten that I am a master of disguise?"

W’MAN: "As a matter of fact…"

E’MAN: "SILENCE!"

SCENE: A short while later Englishman and Welshman are in disguise: Englishman dressed immaculately as usual and looking the same as he always does, except holding a (pristine) sweep’s brush; Welshman is dressed as a shoeshine boy, complete with dirty face, rags, box, etc.

They proceed to the Job Centre.

SCENE: Englishman and Welshman emerge onto the pavement outside the Job Centre.

E’MAN: "Hmm…no luck there, let’s try Job Centre Plus,"

SCENE: Returning to the Englishmansion having failed to find jobs as drug dealers, Englishman and Welshman walk into the drawing room where Englishman pours himself a large brandy and Welshman takes a piece of paper from the fax machine.

W’MAN: "Englishman, look! It says here that the police tracked down the getaway car to the customs warehouse down at the docks."

E’MAN: "Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!"

They exit the room, Welshman closing the door behind them.

SCENE: Inside the customs warehouse. Englishman is in a discussion with the customs officer through a wire mesh fence.

E’MAN: "I have reason to believe that there are illegal drugs being shipped through this warehouse, so open this gate and let me through."

CUSTOMS OFFICIAL: "No one’s allowed in here."

E’MAN: "I’ll take responsibility."

Englishman walks over to a crate stamped "PRODUCE OF SOUTH AMERICA"

E’MAN: "Hmmm…something smells fishy here." In the background is an open topped wooden box full of fish. Englishman points to the ‘South American’ crate, "Do you mind if we open it?"

CUSTOMS OFFCIAL: "It’s forbidden"

E’MAN: "Sorry. Go on, Welshman."

Welshman prises open the lid of the crate using a crowbar – inside are bags and bags of cocaine.

The customs official gasps in shock.

E’MAN: "Do you mind if we wait here and see who picks it up?"

CUSTOMS OFFICIAL: "No, no – you carry on."

SCENE: In the security station the three of them are watching the CCTV monitors. A minivan pulls up in the car park. Out steps a woman.

W’MAN: "Could be a mule,"

E’MAN: "Nonsense, it’s clearly a woman. I know the CCTV is in black and white but the quality isn’t that bad! She drove up in a car and everything – you expect me to believe that a mule could do that?"

W’MAN: "No, a mule."

E’MAN: "Must you be so personal, Welshman? She isn’t that ugly."

W’MAN: "No, I meant, a drugs mule."

E’MAN: "A what? What? A what-what? Sounds to me as though you’re the only one on drugs around here, Welshman – anyway – be quiet."

The woman walks up to the security window.

MARY JANE: "Hello, I’m here to pick up a package."

CUSTOMS OFFICIAL: "Yes, ma’am, just fill in this form."

W’MAN whispering: "Shall we grab her, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "There’s no need, we already have all the information we need on that form she’s filling in; besides, we can’t risk tipping off the rest of the gang that we’re onto them."

CUSTOMS OFFICIAL: "Alright, thank you, we’ll bring that right out to your car."

MARY JANE: "Thank you."

The woman leaves and Englishman takes a look at the form: "IMPORT LICENCE FOR: Caine Co. Import/Export Ltd. HEAD OFFICE ADDRESS: Old Abandoned Warehouse, Meat Packing District, Seedy Downtown Area, New York."

E’MAN: "Alright, Welshman, let’s go," and to the customs official, "Thank you for your help. Goodbye,"

CUSTOMS OFFICIAL: "Goodbye, Englishman, and good luck,"

SCENE: Welshman is peering through a grubby windowpane into the warehouse listed as Caine Co.’s business address.

W’MAN: "They’re in there all right, Englishman. Must be both Mary Jane and Crystal Meth."

E’MAN: "Okay then, on my mark…NOW!" and Englishman kicks open the door.

Crystal and Mary look up startled.

CRYSTAL METH: "So, Englishman, you’ve found me."

E’MAN: "That’s right – the game’s up, Crystal."

CRYSTAL: "Perhaps we could come to some kind of…arrangement."

E’MAN: "Sorry, your womanly wiles won’t work on me – I’m English."

CRYSTAL: "Oh, all right then," Suddenly both she and Mary Jane snatch up a syringe each and inject themselves. Both disappear in a swirl of psychedelic colours. Englishman and Welshman run over to the spot where the women were stood.

E’MAN: "Curses! They’re escaping into a world of narcotic induced hallucinations – quick, Welshman, follow them."

W’MAN: "But we don’t know which drug they used to escape."

E’MAN: "No matter – we’ll just take all of them."

W’MAN: "All of them?! Englishman, are you sure?" looking down at the table which is covered in all kinds of different drugs and drug paraphernalia.

E’MAN: "Certainly – drugs never did anyone any harm. Every famous British person has used drugs at one time or another: Sherlock Holmes, that guy from the movie Trainspotting."

W’MAN: "But those are fictional characters, Englishman."

E’MAN: "You’re right, and of course that doesn’t apply to us at all." – much shifting of eyeballs during uncomfortable silence.

W’MAN: "Okay, if you’re sure. Let’s just get this over with."

They start snorting cocaine, taking pills, acid tabs before eventually coming to the heroin. A close up shot shows an arm being injected.

E’MAN: "Funny…doesn’t seem to be having any effect." to which a wide-eyed and woozy Welshman replies,

W’MAN: "That’s because that was my arm you just injected."

E’MAN: "Ah!" Englishman proceeds to inject himself.

Our two heroes disappear in the same psychedelic swirl of colours as before.

SCENE: Englishman and Welshman are falling – all around them swirls a mass of psychedelic colours. A giant head appears:

JIMI HENDRIX: "Thanks for teaching me how to play guitar, Englishman,"

E’MAN: "You’re welcome," the head retreats, but is quickly replaced by the image of PJ O’ROURKE sat in a rocking chair on the porch of a large wooden house,

E’MAN: "PJ! You’re only three feet away from the dynamite!"

PJ O’ROURKE: "Huh?" BOOM! All the windows of the house are blown out and PJ is left soot blackened and dazed.

PJ O’ROURKE: "Huh? Lousy Democrats!"

Eventually Englishman and Welshman fall to the ground with a bump. They get up and brush themselves down. They seem to be in a corridor of black marble. All the colours in this new universe are inverted.

E’MAN: "Why have you blacked up, Welshman?"

W’MAN: "I could ask you the same question."

Englishman peers down at the reflection in his incredibly shiny shoe leather.

E’MAN: "That’s odd, I all look the same. Well, no time for dilly-dallying – let’s get after her, man."

They walk along the corridor until they come upon a huge circular atrium of white marble. Over to Englishman’s left is a fast food outlet: Kansas Boiled Turkey. As they step into the atrium a steel door slams down shut behind them closing off the corridor.

E’MAN: "Wonderful – that’s just what we need," and he heads over to the counter, "One undercooked turkey, please. The most lukewarm one you have."

SPOTTY KID: "One lukewarm turkey coming up, you want fries with that?"

E’MAN: "No, thank you."

SPOTTY KID: "Soda?"

E’MAN: "No, thank you."

SPOTTY KID: "Milkshake?"

E’MAN: "No, thank you."

Behind the counter, a big fat woman wraps a turkey in a sheet of paper and puts it on a shelf. The spotty kid picks it up and hands it over to Englishman, who slips it into his umbrella.

SPOTTY KID: "That’ll be 1.99."

E’MAN: "Pay the man, Welshman."

Welshman dutifully pays. Just then, Crystal Meth and Mary Jane enter the atrium from a second corridor; again, a steel door slams down, sealing off the corridor; and across the room, steel shutters slam down sealing off the fast food outlet. The two pairs – heroes and villains – eye each other from opposite sides of the room.

E’MAN: "So, we meet again."

CRYSTAL: "Indeed."

E’MAN quietly to Welshman: "You know, I can’t hit a woman, so you’ll have to do all the fighting."

W’MAN: "Well, normally I wouldn’t either…"

E’MAN: "Good man!"

The two sides circle the room, gradually moving towards the centre and the inevitable show down. Suddenly Mary Jane pulls out a bong and the air fills with thick smoke.

E’MAN: "Now, Welshman! Grab them!"

Englishman swings wildly with the cold turkey, hoping to hit the women. SWOOSH! THUNK!

W’MAN muffled: "Englishman? Where are you?" we catch a brief glimpse of Welshman with a turkey on his head before he disappears back into the smoke.

E’MAN: "What was that? I can’t see a damn thing for all this smoke. Oh, there you are – let me help you with that," POP! And Englishman pulls off the turkey.

W’MAN: "I think this smoke is starting to affect me."

From here on everything goes into Matrix-esque slow motion.

Welshman is backing through the smoke – as is Mary Jane – they bump into each other and turn and face each other: slow-mo martial arts fight scene ensues, ending when Welshman hits her square in the face with the cold turkey. Mary Jane disappears.

Meanwhile, Englishman has found Crystal Meth and the two of them are engaged in a fencing match – Englishman using his umbrella, Crystal Meth using a giant syringe. Englishman manages to flick away her syringe with his excellent swordsmanship, leaving her unarmed. At this moment Welshman appears behind her and smashes her over the head with the turkey. The narcotic induced universe disappears and all four of them are back in the warehouse – the two women knocked unconscious.

W’MAN: "What happened?"

E’MAN: "The drugs must have worn off. Tie them up, Welshman, whilst we wait for the police to arrive. Hmm…I wonder what’s in those suitcases," and Englishman moves over to a line of suitcases. He opens one – it’s stuffed full of money. "Hmm…it’s not as if I get paid for all my vigilante work – and those insurance premiums are bleeding me dry. Besides, no-one’s going to miss this."

W’MAN: "Englishman! It’s wrong!"

E’MAN: "Oh, shush. Just think of it as a finder’s fee. Now then, let’s count this out: One for me, one destroyed in the explosion, one in finder’s fee, one recovered."

W’MAN: "What explosion?"

E’MAN: "Quiet, you. Er…that explosion earlier – with the petrol tanker. That good enough for you?"

He then scoops three piles up into one and pockets it. The other pile he leaves behind. Police and Crime Scene Investigators arrive.

COP: "Good work, Englishman, we’ll take these crooks from here," and the two women are put into the back of a squad car and driven off.

E’MAN: "Come on, Welshman, let’s get going."

SCENE: Inside the warehouse, CSIs have found the money and are counting it out

CSI: "One for me, one for all the boys at the lab, one suspected stolen by Englishman, one destroyed in that petrol tanker blast, one recovered." Calling to the cop guarding the door, "Here, take this to the evidence locker. Make sure no one steals any of it."

COP: "Yes, sir".

SCENE: At the evidence lockers, the cop logs the money and leaves. EVIDENCE LOCKER COP: "Ooh, pay day! One for me, one that’s ‘fallen down the back of the shelf’, one recovered…"

SCENE: In the office of the Chief of Police

MAN: "Yes, sir, Englishman did it again. And I hear they recovered a substantial amount of money too."

CHIEF: "Money, eh?" He buzzes his intercom, "Yes, Alice, have the drug money brought up from the evidence room."

VOICE: "Yes, sir."

A policeman enters carrying bags of money.

CHIEF: "Thank you…you can go now," The other two men leave. "One for me, one mislaid, one recovered…"

SCENE FADES OUT

SCENE: A press conference attended by the Chief of Police.

CHIEF: "…And I am very pleased to say that the department will be donating to the Local Schools Board all the drug money that was recovered in a recent raid," He smiles and shakes hands with the Schools Board representative as he hands over a single bill.

SCHOOLS BOARD REP: "A hundred bucks? The TV news said they’d recovered $100million,"

CHIEF: "Yes, well, just goes to show that you shouldn’t believe everything they say on TV,"

SCHOOLS BOARD REP: "Wait, are those epaulettes on your uniform made of real gold?"

CHIEF: "This press conference is over!"

ROLL CREDITS.

Join us for next week's thrilling episode, when we'll be joined by guest star Dr Leo Caesius.

SCENE: At the Englishmansion. Englishman and Welshman are in the foreground. Welshman is stood, smoking a pipe, Englishman is absorbed in his newspaper. In the background is an unfamiliar character – standing stock-still.

WELSHMAN whispering: "I say, Englishman, who’s the new guy?" Englishman looks up from his newspaper.

ENGLISHMAN: "Oh, him? The Committee for Racial Equality got on to me for not having enough (whispers very loudly) ethnics on staff. Told me they’d take me to an employment tribunal unless my staff became more representative of the population at large."

Camera focuses on the ‘man’ – who turns out to be one of those statues of a Native American used to advertise cigars.

W’MAN: "How does he manage to stand so still?"

E’MAN: "No idea. He’s been like that since I hired him; but I don’t mind – at least he isn’t stealing anything."

Scene cuts to Butler stealing silverware.

Scene cuts back. Englishman returns to reading his newspaper. Welshman eyes the ‘new guy’ suspiciously when suddenly:

E’MAN: "Trouble in the Middle East? What trouble? We live in the mid-east and I haven’t noticed anything unusual."

W’MAN: "No, Englishman – you really are becoming very US-centric – the Middle East lies to the eastern end of the Mediterranean,"

E’MAN: "I see…just remind me again which of the Great Lakes is the Mediterranean?"

WELSHMAN sighs

E’MAN: COUGH! CHOKE! SPLUTTER!

W’MAN: "Englishman! Are you all right?"

E’MAN: "Gach! Look here, Welshman – this article in my newspaper says that the airlines are levying a fuel surcharge of $5 for long haul flights."

W’MAN: "Is that all?"

E’MAN: "IS THAT ALL?! Are you insane, man? Have you forgotten that we’ve been invited to the Commonwealth celebrations over in Australia? Well, I’m not paying an extra $5 for the privilege of being packed into first class like some kind of veal calf. No, sirree!"

W’MAN: "Well what other choice do we have?"

E’MAN: "I…I…I know! I’ll dig a tunnel."

W’MAN: "That sounds rather implausible, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Yes, but as Sherlock Holmes once said, once you have eliminated the impossible, an implausible tunnel to Australia is the only option left."

W’MAN: "Really?"

E’MAN: "Of course I’m paraphrasing, but I’m pretty sure that was the gist of it." Englishman pulls the bell rope – camera cuts to a previously out-of-shot wall of the room where the dumb waiter opens, revealing an extremely squashed Butler in contortionist pose.

BUTLER: "You rang, sir?"

E’MAN: "Indeed. Fetch me my spade and hold all my calls – I’ll be in the back garden digging all day – and all night if I have to."

W’MAN: "But, Englishman, I’m not even sure that Australia is directly below us, seeing as we’re in New York."

E’MAN: "Quiet you! There’ll be no more of your pessimism. It’s still called the Antipodes, right? Thus it must still be opposite us on the world’s surface. If a tunnel can link England and France despite them being a million miles apart…"

W’MAN: "I think that that might be figuratively speaking, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Nonsense. So, a tunnel of just a few thousand miles to Australia should be no trouble at all. Now stay here and man the fort, I’ll come and get you once I’ve finished the tunnel." Englishman exits.

SCENE: A patch of barren ground. Digging noises. A spade appears up through the ground, closely followed by Englishman’s head. He looks around expectedly.

E’MAN: "Aha! The Antipodes – I knew I could do it. Ah! Hello!" Englishman realises that he is surrounded by a number of men in orange jumpsuits.

MAN #1: "Hakka flak blach?"

MAN #2: "Hakka hakka flak blach."

E’MAN: "Hmm…Aborigines, eh?" The men help Englishman up out of the hole and then they all escape down the tunnel one-by-one, popping up in Englishman’s back garden.

MAN #1: "Yes! I am free!"

MAN #2: "Woohoo! Freedom!"

MAN #3: "Yay! Death to the infidel!"

MAN #4: "Now I can return to posting angry comments about George Bush online!"

Back at Guantanamo Bay:

Englishman inspects the wire mesh surrounding the exercise yard.

E’MAN: "Hmm, there’s something wrong here. They don’t keep Aborigines in cages…well, not since the sixties. I wonder where I am."

SCENE: At the Englishmansion Welshman is watching the TV news – incredulous to say the least.

TV: "Security footage reveals this man – who, judging by his attire, must be English – to have been behind the mass breakout from the high security Guantanamo Bay prison on Cuba. The man’s whereabouts are now unknown and investigators have few leads."

W’MAN: "Oh, Englishman! What have you done now?"

E’MAN: "What’s that, Welshman? Talking about me?"

W’MAN: "Englishman! You’re back!"

E’MAN: "Yes. I didn’t quite make it to Australia, but I can always try again tomorrow."

W’MAN: "Erm…do you know where you did get to today?"

E’MAN: "As a matter of fact, no. Didn’t recognise the place at all; but the locals were all very friendly and helpful…until they all disappeared that is. I wonder where they did get to."

W’MAN: "Those weren’t locals, they were prisoners. You tunnelled into a prison and released dozens of highly dangerous inmates…allegedly,"

E’MAN: "Oh…whoops? Well, anyway, let that be a lesson to those airlines who insist on raising their prices in line with the cost of aviation fuel."

TV: "…meanwhile, in Britain, the newly appointed Counter-Terrorism Minister has launched a crackdown on suspected terrorists. Personally attending a raid on a property…"

SCENE: At the scene of the raid…

LEO CAESIUS: "But I keep telling you: I haven’t done anything!"

MINISTER: "Oh no? What do you call this then? We’ve got sure fire evidence of you ordering CDs and DVDs off the internet."

LEO: "Ordering CDs and DVDs – how is that a crime?"

MINISTER: "Maybe you plan to break them up and use the shards as bomb packing to cause shrapnel injuries."

LEO: "Why would I use expensive DVDs?"

MINISTER: "Hm, a well-funded terrorist, eh? Take him away boys!"

Leo is dragged away, protesting his innocence.

SCENE: Back at the Englishmansion:

E’MAN: "Pah! Counter-Terrorism Minister?! Ridiculous! We never needed any such thing when we were fighting the IRA; why, in all my years battling evil-doers….wait a minute, Welshman, I’m getting something." Englishman grabs a piece of chalk and walks over to a convenient blackboard – there he writes IRA – IRAQ – IRAN – IRASCIBLE – IRATE. "Look, Welshman, I think we’re definitely onto something here. I’m going back to my tunnel; might as well finish it now that I’ve started. Cheerio!" Englishman exits. The doorbell rings.

SCENE: Outside the front door of the Englishmansion, Ayatollah Wile E. Khomeini unfolds an ACME unfolding door.

Welshman opens the front door of the Englishmansion and steps back in surprise when he finds a second door behind the first. He opens the second door.

WILE E. KHOMEINI: "Ah, hello. Allow me to introduce myself." He hands over a card with his name typed on it. "My name is Wile E. Khomeini and I am the Ayatollah of Iran,"

W’MAN: "I see-"

WILE E. KHOMEINI: "Yes – I was hoping to talk to a Mr Englishman."

W’MAN: "Oh, right. He’s in the back garden. Go right through."

WILE E. KHOMEINI: "Ah, thank you," He folds up his door, wipes his feet on the mat and enters the house.

SCENE: The back garden. Wile E. again unfolds his door, erecting it by the entrance to Englishman’s tunnel. He knocks. Englishman emerges from the hole in the ground. He opens the door.

E’MAN: "Nyah, what’s up, doc?"

WILE E. KHOMEINI: "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Wile E. Khomeini of the Republic of Iran."

E’MAN: "Republic, eh?" Englishman spits on the ground.

WILE E. KHOMEINI: "Er, yes, quite. Anyway, you are a great hero where I come from and I would like to invite you to visit, so that we might hold a parade in your honour."

E’MAN: "A parade? I see. And how much would I be paid for making this personal appearance."

WILE E. taken aback: "Paid? Well, nothing. Although I can guarantee you virgins in heaven – provided you convert to Islam." Englishman thinks about it,

E’MAN: "Hmm…I’d still prefer the money." He leans in, "I’m English, you see."

WILE E.: "Well, I’ll see what I can do. We’d be willing to pay your airfare and any expenses, of course, if that makes any difference."

E’MAN: "Well, why didn’t you say?"

WILE E.: "Wonderful!"

E’MAN: "Just let me pack a few things. BUTLER!"

BUTLER: "You bellowed, sir?"

E’MAN: "Yes – pack a few things, I’m off to Iran,"

SCENE: Aboard Concord – Englishman and Welshman walk down the aisle singing…

Note: To the tune of ‘Road to Morocco’. Bracketed sections are spoken word.

Englishman snaps his fingers to set the beat

#We’re off on the road to Ira-an,

This concord is tough on the spine!

Welshman: (Maybe if you didn’t keep compressing your spine with these parachute jump landings!)

Where we're goin', why we're goin', how can we be sure?

It’s because Wile E. Khomeini came a-knocking on my door.

Englishman: (What a nice man!)

Off on the road to Ira-an. Trying to a-void a war!

Welshman: (First time for everything!)

Englishman: (Quiet!)

I hear that this country has some nuclear ambitions!

They spend all their time designing dangerous new munitions!

Englishman: (My word!)

I think he’ll invade on the ground!

Like George Bush’s armies, we’re Ira-an bound.

We’re off on the road to Ira-an.

Welshman: (Well, duck down, and run for cover, the bombs are falling.)

Englishman: (Casualties will be appalling!)

Men on fire, children weeping, women blown in half!

It seems to me there should be easier ways to get a laugh

Welshman: (Shall I drop my A-bomb?)

Off on the road to Ira-an!

Englishman: (Hooray! Welshman, what a spot of luck! All expenses paid, come on!)

Englishman: We’re big fans of modern neo-colonialist expansion-

Welshman: Only because you need more servants for your mansion!

Englishman: (Yeah!)

Certainly do get around.

Like George Bush’s armies, we’re Ira-an bound.

We certainly do get around.

(Like a fleet of B-2 bombers, just launched out of Whiteman Airforce Base in Missouri on a long-range bombing mission to Tehran,) *breath *

We’re Ira-an bound.

(Or like failed homosexual Iranian asylum seekers who fled to Britain, but were repatriated under a treaty in which Iran promised not to hurt them. But they lied.) *breath *

We’re Ira-an bound.

Welshman: (We could be arrested.)#

E’MAN: "Well, that song has really taken it out of me. I’m stepping out for a cigarette." Welshman nods and sits down before realising:

W’MAN: "Englishman! NO!" Englishman opens the door – everything blows around the inside of the cabin. Englishman steps out onto the wing and closes the door behind him.

SCENE: On the wing. Englishman smokes his cigarette, but on finishing it is at a loss over what to do with it. Then he spies an ‘ashtray’. He lifts a small flap – not noticing the words ‘FUEL FILLER CAP’ on it – and drops in his cigarette before closing the flap. Englishman then opens the door – causing another huge draught. He then joins Welshman. Over Welshman ’s shoulder we can see through the window that the wing is on fire. An alarm starts – everyone looks around. Englishman opens the door and stands back as the stewardesses distribute a parachute to each passenger as they pass. Eventually only Englishman and Welshman are left.

W’MAN: "Er…Englishman – there don’t seem to be any parachutes left." Englishman kicks Welshman out of the emergency escape door. "But I don’t have a parachute!"

E’MAN: "No time to worry about that now, Welshman." Jumping out behind Welshman.

SCENE: In a dusty, desert environment, Jane Fonda walks along a line of dishevelled US prisoners of war.

W’MAN: "AaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrggGGGGGHHHHHH!" Jane Fonda looks up. SPLAT! Welshman crushes her into the ground. Englishman drifts down and lands serenely – his descent slowed by his open umbrella.

E’MAN: "So…this is Persia."

Terrorists surround Englishman and Welshman and begin closing in menacingly.

TERRORISTS: "Grrrrr!"

Scene fades out.

Scene fades back in. Suddenly:

TERRORIST #1: "Wait, he’s the guy that freed me from Guantanamo."

TERRORIST #2: "Really? Welcome, sir, please make yourself at home. Our terrorist training camp is your terrorist training camp."

E’MAN: "How kind. What a hospitable people you’ve turned out to be. Things have certainly changed since Saladin’s days."

TERRORIST #2: "Please, come this way to the refreshment tent."

E’MAN: "Thank you. Come along, Welshman."

WELSHMAN still dazed: "I’ll have a polar bear, please Bob."

Englishman, Welshman and all the terrorists leave. The US PoWs glance at each other.

PoW #1: "Let’s get out of here."

PoW #2: "Wait…they might notice…unless!"

Scene fades out and back in.

Jane Fonda wakes up gagged. Camera pans back to reveal that she’s dressed as a US serviceman. A long horizontal wooden pole is tied to her back – attached at intervals along the pole are dummies of US PoWs. Fonda’s eyes go wide as she realises the situation.

SCENE: Later… in the refreshments tent.

E’MAN: "Well, chaps, this has been wonderful, but I fear we really must get going if I’m going to get to Tehran in time,"

Disappointed groan.

TERRORIST #1: "So soon?"

E’MAN: "I’m afraid so, they may try to revoke my expenses if I don’t turn up. Welshman?"

W’MAN: "Yes, mum?"

E’MAN: "Shut up, Welshman. Now – let’s get going,"

SCENE: Outside the tent. Englishman and Welshman are put onto camels and leave with a guide.

TERRORISTS: "Goodbye!" "Come back soon!" "Missing you already!" "Death to the Infidel!"

Englishman et al depart.

TERRORISTS: "Now, let’s get back to torturing those PoWs." The terrorists turn around and look at Fonda whose eyes widen in fear and she starts struggling.

SCENE: Presidential Palace – Tehran.

E’MAN: "Ah, hello! I’m so glad to meet you, President Armoured Dinner Jacket."

PRES. AHMADINEJAD: angrily "Ahmadinejad!"

E’MAN: "Yes – that’s what I said."

PRES. AHMADINEJAD: "Grrrrrrr!"

E’MAN: "If I have offended you, I am deeply sorry."

WELSHMAN whispers: "It’s unlike you to apologise."

E’MAN loudly: "I don’t mean it, Welshman. It’s called diplomacy."

WELSHMAN whispers: "You do know he can hear you, don’t you?"

E’MAN: "Yes. And? You don’t know much about diplomacy, do you? It’s about what you say, not what you mean. Now, President Armoured Dinner Jacket – what about that parade in my honour?"

PRESIDENT: "Just one minute, there is someone else I would like you to meet – ah…here he comes now – our chief nuclear negotiator."

In walks Ali Larijani – Iran’s Chief nuclear negotiator.

PRESIDENT: "Mr Laryngitis, meet Englishman,"

E’MAN: "Charmed, I’m sure."

LARIJANI: "Yes – that’s Larijani."

PRESIDENT: "Yes – that’s what I said – laryngotomy."

LARIJANI: "Grrrr! Whatever you say, President Armoured Dinner Jacket,"

PRESIDENT: "Ahmadinejad! Oh, no, it’s that clown again," In walks Georgey G. – leader of the ‘Respect the War Coalition’.

GEORGEY G: "Booyakasha! Bo, President Ahmadinejad, a’ight, nuff respec’ for your courage, your indefatigability…"

PRESIDENT: "Shut up, you idiot lickspittle. Anyway, I think we are now ready for your parade, Mr Englishman, if you’ll just step outside."

E’MAN: "Okay, thank you. I hope I’ll see you again later."

PRESIDENT: "Oh, I’m sure we will meet again…sooner or later. Hohohohohohoho!" Continues chuckling sinisterly as Englishman exits.

SCENE: Englishman is riding atop a float as the parade in his honour winds through the streets of Tehran. Thousands of Tehranians throw flower petals and confetti as the floats pass by. Suddenly a group of men wielding Uzis and dressed as ultra-orthodox Jews (hats, beards, hair in ringlets, dressed all in black) burst from the crowd. They fire into the air and the crowd cowers and retreats. Boarding Englishman’s float they put a sack over his head. Englishman’s point of view – everything goes black.

SCENE: The bag is lifted up off Englishman’s head and the scene is revealed to us. He’s in some kind of command centre – a map table dominates the room and maps and charts cover one wall. The Mossad agents stand guard behind Englishman. A man introduces himself.

MAN: "Hello, Englishman, you don’t know me, but what I have to say is very important, so listen carefully. I work for the UN’s department of International Justice and you’re facing some pretty serious jail time for freeing all those terrorists from Camp Delta – unless, that is, you work for us."

E’MAN: "I see. And what is it you’d like me to do?"

UN AGENT: "Take a look at this map. Now, our plans for Palestinians and Israelis to live harmoniously are coming along nicely. This is our planned new Palestinian nation." He indicates an area on the map labelled ‘Chosen United Nation’s Territory.’

E’MAN: "Hmm…that’s not a very catchy name. How about combining the names Lebanon, Syria and Libya…how about ‘Labia’?"

UN AGENT: "That’s not important right now, we’ll stick with the name ‘Chosen United Nation’s Territory’, for now, at least."

E’MAN: "Oh, okay."

UN AGENT: "However, all our efforts for peace may be thwarted. Russia has agreed to fund Hamas. We need you, Englishman, to go in and negotiate so that this doesn’t happen. All we’ve worked for could be undermined and lost if Hamas secures sufficient international backing to legitimise itself."

E’MAN: "Say no more, you can count on me."

SCENE: Englishman and Welshman arrive at the Kremlin.

RUSSIAN: "Mr Englishman, you are due to address the Duma in ten minutes."

E’MAN: "Ah, thank you. I say, is there a gents’ room, perchance?"

RUSSIAN: "Er, straight down this corridor."

Englishman sets off. At the end of the corridor there are two doors. Englishman knows enough about Russian to read and pronounce the written language, but he doesn’t necessarily know all the words. Englishman considers the wording on the doors and deduces that the one on the left is the gents and on the right is the ladies. He tentatively opens the left door.

E’MAN: "Urinals! Ah, this must be the men’s room. Phew! Crisis averted!"

On the way out Englishman decides that, since his entire speech is in English, it would be a nice gesture to at least begin it in Russian. He memorises the words "Ladies and Gentlemen" from the toilet doors and then makes his way back to the main chamber.

ANNOUNCER: "And now please welcome Englishman, who is here on behalf of the UN to address us on the very important matter of the Middle East." Englishman walks to the podium to rapturous applause. A hush falls. Englishman clears his throat before beginning his speech in Russian.

E’MAN in Russian: "Good evening ladies and gentlemen,"

There is a collective gasp from the assembled dignitaries and politicians. Mouths drop open. Several women faint. Two burly security men appear and carry Englishman out of the room.

E’MAN: "I say – what’s the meaning of this?"

Just outside the main auditorium the announcer explains sternly to Englishman.

ANNOUNCER angrily: "Russian Parliament is not used to being addressed as WATER CLOSETS AND URINALS! TAKE HIM AWAY!"

SCENE: Englishman and Welshman are in a dank and dingy prison cell. Two men arrive from the British Consulate.

E’MAN: "Ah, thank goodness you’re here. You tell them – I’m rich – they can’t lock rich people up."

OFFICIAL: "Well, not unless you’re an oil billionaire."

E’MAN: "They lock up billionaires here? How barbaric! They really haven’t fully adjusted to capitalism yet, have they?"

OFFICIAL: "Anyway I’m here to help get you out-"

E’MAN: "Yes, I know you are. But first – just look out that window."

OFFICIAL: "Hmm?"

E’MAN: "Karate – CHOP!"

The consular official turns round and Englishman hits him in the face with a steel chair – Welshman knocks out the other official.

E’MAN: "Those martial arts classes really paid off." Then, moving to the bars, "Excuse me – we’ve spoken to our clients and we’re ready to go now."

RUSSIAN GUARD: "Okay." and he unlocks the door. Englishman and Welshman leave.

Scene fades out and back in – this is sometime later.

The dazed consular officials get to their feet, rubbing their heads.

OFFICIAL: "Hey! Guard! Let us out of here!"

RUSSIAN GUARD: "And why would I do that?"

OFFICIAL: "We’re not the prisoners! We’re from the embassy."

GUARD: "Oh, yes, I am simple Russian peasant. Ha ha ha! You cannot fool me. I am wise to your schemes, Englishman. Now be quiet or no food for you."

SCENE: Englishman and Welshman are creeping through the Kremlin in the dead of night. They’re making their way down a dimly lit corridor. Englishman raises his hand and Welshman stops. Englishman points to a sign on a door "Chemical Weapons Laboratory".

E’MAN: "Let’s check it out, Welshman."

They open the door – the lab is deserted. Englishman picks up a test tube from a rack on a table near the door. He sniffs it and then dips his finger in it and tastes it.

E’MAN: "Hello."

W’MAN: "What is it, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "Funny…tastes like the nerve agent Sarin. Hmm – it is the nerve agent Sarin!" Topples over to one side. Englishman clambers back up.

W’MAN: "Englishman! Are you all right? Shouldn’t you be dead by now?"

E’MAN: "No, no, I’m fine. I built up quite a resistance to this stuff during the 50s when I was a volunteer for testing nerve toxins at Porton Down. Well, things are certainly looking serious now."

W’MAN: "I don’t follow, Englishman."

E’MAN: "The Russians are merely stirring up trouble in the Middle East as an excuse to bulk up their military in preparation for a return to full blown Communism so that they can destroy the entire world."

W’MAN: Gasp!

E’MAN: "That’s right, Welshman, but it doesn’t end there. It is my belief that this plot to destroy the world is merely incidental to an even greater and more diabolical scheme."

W’MAN: "What could be worse than destroying the world?"

E’MAN: "Not destroying the world."

W’MAN: "Touché."

E’MAN: "And unless I’m mistaken, Welshman, the mastermind behind it all is an ‘Al Macaroon’; perhaps Albert…or Alfred."

W’MAN: "Er, Englishman, are you thinking Al-Muhajiroun."

E’MAN: "Yes, yes, whatever. Dirty foreigners bringing their dirty languages over here."

W’MAN: "Here? To Russia?"

E’MAN: "Right! To Russia! No, wait, we’re already in Russia. Shut up, Welshman. To take on the combined might of Russia and the Islamic world is going to be a monumental challenge. If only there were someone else who could do it. It almost makes one wish that there really was a Zionist conspiracy in control of the West."

SCENE: Meanwhile, at 10 Downing Street:

PM on phone: "Yes, Chief Rabbi…. Yes, Chief Rabbi…"

SCENE: Back in Russia.

E’MAN: "Anyway, Welshman, we’re going to need reinforcements if we’re to save the Jews. So we’d better go to the one country that the Jews can really count on."

W’MAN: "Right, Israel."

E’MAN: "Israel? I was talking about America. Israel, Welshman? Israel is the most anti-semitic country in the world. A little internet research shows that over 95% of all people arrested in Israel are Jewish! Clear anti-Semitism. And they have these things called ‘prisons’ – but you know what I would call them?"

W’MAN: "No, Englishman, what would you call them?"

E’MAN: "Concentration camps! What else?"

W’MAN: patronisingly "Of course, Englishman, what else(?)"

E’MAN: "Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Seeing as I’m such good friends with President Armoured Dinner Jacket and Wile E. Khomeini – perhaps we should all just sit down and talk about this like reasonable adults."

W’MAN: "Englishman, these people are not the kind of people one can negotiate with – they’re religious fundamentalists!"

E’MAN: "You don’t have to tell me they’re mentalists, Welshman, I wrote the book on mentalism."

W’MAN: "Now, why don’t I find that hard to believe?"

E’MAN: "What did you say, Welshman?"

W’MAN: "I’m learning to weave."

E’MAN: suspiciously "Hmmmm."

SCENE: In the Presidential Palace, Tehran. Englishman and Welshman are sat at a banqueting table with their hosts: the President, the Ayatollah and Osama Bin Laden. Englishman gets out his phrase book.

E’MAN to Osama: "No more crashing planes! That’s my job!"

OSAMA: "Wakka, wakka. Death to the Infidel. Wackka, wakka!"

E’MAN in Iranian: "What a delicious meal this is," real translation: "This swill is not fit for my pig,"

PRESIDENT AHMADINEJAD: "Grrrr!"

LEO CAESIUS who has appeared from nowhere: "I think what he was trying to say is – ‘Thank you for a wonderful dinner."

E’MAN: "Who are you?"

LEO CAESIUS: "Oh, er, competition winner. I guessed the price of a big book…"

E’MAN: "I didn’t ask for your bloody life story!"

LEO CAESIUS: "Sorry. Anyway, I guest starred earlier, getting arrested."

E’MAN: "So what are you doing here now?"

LEO CAESIUS: "Translating."

E’MAN: "And, er, were you a terrorist in the end?"

LEO CAESIUS: "Nope, no."

E’MAN: "So why are you in Iran?"

LEO CAESIUS: "Long answer: arrested – Guantanamo – escaped through hole. Short answer: comic licence?"

E’MAN: "Personally, I think you’ve overplayed your part. Pft! Guest stars these days. Anyway, getting back to the point, we’re all agreed, right?"

Murmur of agreement.

E’MAN: "Good, then it’s settled. Everything can get back to normal. Come, Welshman, we have a flight to catch,"

SCENE: Flight back on board a 747. Englishman has dozed off. A terrorist is in the window seat beside Englishman. He gets up,

TERRORIST: "Nobody move! I have a bomb!" He begins to climb over Englishman’s legs, but Englishman turns in his sleep and the terrorist trips and falls.

A delegation of twenty to thirty sky marshals on the way to a conference all draw their weapons and point them at the terrorist, who timidly raises his hands.

Englishman wakes up – and seeing a poor chap being picked on – quick as a flash, disarms all the sky marshals, handing the guns to the terrorist, who can’t believe his luck. The terrorist turns and is about to walk off to the cockpit when Englishman turns round to see if he’s okay. Englishman slaps him hard on the back in a friendly and reassuring way. The terrorist is caught by surprise, again tripping and falling. This time he drops the gun in his hand – it goes off, the bullet breaks a window. The cabin depressurises and the terrorist (the only person apart from Englishman not wearing a seatbelt) is sucked out.

Everyone cheers.

ROLL CREDITS.

Note: There would have been an Englishman monologue on the evils of terrorism etc, but the episode was getting a bit long. Maybe in Series Two: The Englishman Monologues, in which the lazy writers will hijack the show to denounce everything they hate about the world – but in an angry rather than funny way.

SCENE: The Englishmansion. Sat at the breakfast table are Englishman – wearing his crimson dressing gown and reading his paper – and Scotchman. Butler pours some tea. The doorbell rings – exit Butler.

ENGLISHMAN: "So, Scotchman, today’s the day your uncle visits. Excited?

SCOTCHMAN: "Aye."

Enter Butler.

BUTLER: "The post, sir."

E’MAN: "Ah, thank you. Bill, bill, bill, commendation, award, lawsuit, bill…gah! Have you seen this, Scotchman?"

S’MAN: "Och?"

E’MAN: "Junk mail! Tons of it – everyday! Just listen to this: 'In 1972 a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire the A-Team.' It’s just ‘if’ this and ‘if’ that – how on Earth do they expect to give the impression that they’re reliable and trustworthy when they’re talking like that? I don’t know, the world’s gone mad, I mean, what are they even selling?"

In the background Butler opens a cupboard door, an arm reaches out and yanks in a surprised Butler. Moments later out steps Hitler dressed as Englishman’s butler. The doorbell rings.

E’MAN: "Get that, won’t you, Butler?"

HITLER: "Jawohl, herr Englischman."

E’MAN: "And Butler?" Hitler stops, his back to Englishman, "You know the policy on facial hair. Shave off that stupid moustache. You look like a bloody idiot," Close up of Hitler’s face turning red, spittle escaping from the sides of his mouth. Exit Hitler.

SCENE: The front doorstep of the Englishmansion. Rain is pouring.

LORD SCOTCHMAN: ATCHOO!

HITLER: "Yesss?"

LORD SCOTCHMAN: "Would you look at that? I’ve gone and caught a sniffle! I’m Lord Scotchman, I’m here to inspect the tapestries and visit my nephew Scotchman."

HITLER: "Tapestries?"

LORD SCOTCHMAN: "This is a mansion? You do have tapestries?"

HITLER: "Zis is a mansion und zer are many tapestries – und if you are a Scottish Lord, zen I am Mickey Mouse."

Lord Scotchman punches Hitler out cold and steps over him through the doorway.

SCENE: Back in the kitchen – Scotchman has been replaced by Welshman.

E’MAN: "I’ve been thinking, Welshman. How on Earth did Hitler manage to steal the world’s largest diamond from the museum – right from under our very noses?"

W’MAN: "I’ve been thinking about that too, Englishman – and not just the museum. What about last week when he managed to steal that nuclear missile from the underground silo which we were guarding."

E’MAN: "Indeed…it’s all very odd. Almost as though…no. No, that’s silly."

W’MAN: "What, Englishman? Go on."

E’MAN: "It almost seems as though Hitler knows what move we’re going to make before we make it. As though he’s telepathically read our minds and so makes his plans to circumvent our traps."

W’MAN: "You know, Englishman, that might not be so far fetched as it sounds. Perhaps he’s bugged the Englishmansion or managed to infiltrate it some other way." Englishman and Welshman stare suspiciously at Butler who has just this minute emerged from the cupboard rubbing his head.

E’MAN: "No, no. That’s ridiculous. He couldn’t possibly. Forget I said anything." Englishman returns to his newspaper, "Ah – Lord Snooty Wafflington’s obituary – I’d better photocopy this for my collection." Englishman gets up and makes his way over to the photocopier…in the kitchen.

W’MAN: "Lord Snooty Wafflington? That’s an odd name. Friend of yours was he?"

E’MAN: "You remember Waffles! Old Waffly." Welshman looks blank, "My cat! Twenty-two he was. I bought him that peerage when he was sixteen – after the Labour government came to power,"

W’MAN: "Right, of course."

E’MAN: "Hello – what’s this?" Englishman lifts a piece of paper from the top of the photocopier, "Hmm…someone’s left their CV – or ‘résumé’ – in here,"

W’MAN: "Who?"

E’MAN mumbling to himself: "A. Hitler…"

W’MAN: "Hitler?! Well that proves that he’s infiltrated the mansion."

E’MAN: "Not so fast, Welshman. Under ‘Education’ it says that he attended the Vienna College of Art – so it can’t be the Hitler."

W’MAN: "Hmm…wait! Maybe he’s just lying again!"

E’MAN: "Well – he’s lied before – but I like to give people the benefit of the doubt."

W’MAN: "Even Hitler?!"

E’MAN: "Fine – fine! I’ll keep my eyes open. But for now, let us retire to the drawing room for our post-breakfast brandy."

They leave the kitchen.

SCENE: Englishman and Welshman appear in the hall (Rear right of the shot – to the right of the main staircase). In the foreground, Hitler is still lying unconscious on the parquet floor by the front door.

E’MAN: "I say, Butler, no sleeping on the job!" Englishman and Welshman cross the hall in front of the stairs and exit via double doors on the left.

SCENE: The drawing room. Englishman, still in his dressing gown, stands by the sideboard as he pours himself a large brandy.

E’MAN: "Ahhh – how civilised. Nothing like breakfast followed by a large brandy as one reads the newspaper."

W’MAN: "I thought you’d finished the newspaper,"

E’MAN: "No – that was yesterday’s paper. I didn’t get a chance to read it because I was busy yesterday overthrowing Catholicism."

W’MAN: "I seeeee…"

Englishman moves over to his chair and picks up his paper.

E’MAN: "Ahhhhhh!" SPLFFTTT!! Englishman splutters on his brandy. "What’s this?"

W’MAN: "Hmm?"

E’MAN: "This – this thing! Where’s my newspaper? Where’s the Telegraph?"

W’MAN: "Isn’t that it?"

E’MAN: "No, you cantankerous, cantilevered cantaloupe! It most certainly is NOT! Why – this is The Daily Graf-Spee – not The Daily Telegraph at all! Hitler’s behind this, Welshman – you mark my words. Dispose of this Welshman." Welshman takes the newspaper over to the bin – his back to the room.

E’MAN: "BUTLER!"

Butler enters – but is then yanked backwards out of the room. CLONK! Hitler enters.

E’MAN: "I thought I told you to shave that moustache, Butler!"

HITLER: "Ach, sorry, herr Englischman."

E’MAN: "What took you so long?"

HITLER: "I vas…er…in ze middle of shaving my moustache off."

E’MAN: "Really? It looked like half a moustache before and it still looks like half a moustache, you imbecile."

PROFESSOR FATE: "It’s not my fault. My henchman snapped it off when it froze."

E’MAN: "Oh, hello, Professor Fate – actually, I wasn’t talking to you,"

PROF. FATE: "Okay, never mind," in a sneering bellow, "MAX! We’re leaving."

E’MAN: "Anyway, Butler, Welshman and I will need a hamper preparing. We’ll be leaving for the library soon and it’s a long trek over to the East Wing, so sustenance will be required."

Hitler clicks his heels together, bows and leaves. Welshman returns to his seat.

W’MAN: "What was that, Englishman? We’re going to the library?"

E’MAN: "Indeed. I need to find something else to read since I don’t have a newspaper. Best layer up your clothes for the trip, Welshman. In order to save a few pennies I haven’t had the heating on in the East Wing. Ah! Lord Welshman – will you be joining us?"

LORD WELSHMAN: "Och, nae! I mean, no . . boyo,"

SCENE: The scene is white. The camera zooms in and our intrepid heroes become visible. Englishman and Welshman, dressed like Victorian polar explorers, are battling through a blizzard as a gale blows.

E’MAN: "Stop, Welshman," Englishman consults a map, "I think we’re here."

Englishman begins wiping the snowy, icy surface on his left. A brass plaque reading ‘LIBRARY’ appears from under a covering of snow. Englishman feels down the door and finds the door handle – which he turns. The double doors to the library swing open and Englishman and Welshman step forward into the room, closing the door behind them so as to keep the blizzard out. Englishman takes off his mittens and coat.

A quick glance around the room and Englishman’s eye lands on the fire burning in the grate. He walks over.

E’MAN: "What is the meaning of this?!" First editions of A Tale of Two Cities, Complete Works of Shakespeare and Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone are on fire. "This is awful. I’ve had this collection most of my life. I used my first wage packet to start my collection of rare and priceless books."

W’MAN: "There, there, Englishman. You sit down and tell me all about it and once you feel better then we’ll get to the bottom of it."

E’MAN: "Yes, yes. Thank you, old friend. Well, after gaining degrees from Oxford, Cambridge, Oxbridge and the University of the Rich and Famous, Hollywood Campus, I was offered a job by a friend of the family – old ‘Smelly’ Blenkinsop – who went to school with my father. He’d gone into the Civil Service – Her Majesty’s Treasury to be precise – and so he invited me to join him in the very rewarding work he was doing. He was right – it was indeed rewarding. As is the sole reason for holding public office, I proceeded to line my own pockets and amass a sizeable bank balance – at least for a young chap in his mid-twenties, that is."

W’MAN: "Englishman! People don’t pay their taxes so that rich toffs like you can line your own pockets. Shame on you."

E’MAN: "Shut up, Welshman, you simple minded sap. If I hadn’t profited from my office then I’d’ve gone bankrupt! Why, that paltry £100,000 p.a. salary that they were paying me barely covered the retainer I pay my sock tailor."

W’MAN: "Sock tailor, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "Hm? You say that as though you’ve never heard of a sock tailor."

W’MAN: "Right…and just what does a sock tailor do?"

E’MAN: "Why, isn’t it obvious? He replaces lost odd socks. What else would one do?"

W’MAN: "Buy a new pair of socks?"

E’MAN: "BUY A NEW PAIR OF SOCKS, MAN – ARE YOU INSANE?! What a reprehensible waste of money! If that’s what normal people do it’s no wonder that England has gone to the dogs. Why, I’ve owned this pair of socks I’m wearing for 43 years. I’ve had the left one replaced 93 times and the right 112 times."

W’MAN: "Then how is it the same pair of socks?!"

E’MAN: "Really, Welshman, I’m not a philosopher you know."

Englishman gets up and walks over to a bookcase. He pulls a book from the shelf.

E’MAN: "At least my grail diary has survived. It was a gift from Lord Scotchman… Oh, no! Someone’s defaced it."

W’MAN: "How, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "Someone’s signed it…Adolf Hitler."

BOTH: "HITLER!"

E’MAN: "I’m going to call Butler – see if he knows anything about this." Englishman moves over to an old-fashioned telephone and putting the ear piece to his ear and picking up the main body of the phone. A voice is coming from the receiver.

HITLER: "Ja, ja. Yes, Eva – I von’t forget to pick up a chicken on the way home. No…no…no…yes…no…of course. Ja. Ich liebe dich auch. Auf wiederhoeren." The line goes dead.

E’MAN: "Hitler’s here – in the house – now. Let’s go,"

SCENE: The Hall. Voices approach, growing louder. Double doors on the right burst open. Englishman and Welshman stride in.

E’MAN: "If you were Hitler, Welshman, where would you hide?"

W’MAN: "A bunker in the centre of Berlin?"

E’MAN: "That’s the kind of place an idiot would hide. But anyway, I meant ‘in the Englishmansion."

W’MAN: "Oh…er…the attic?"

E’MAN: "The attic, eh? Have you secretly been helping Hitler?"

W’MAN: "No, Englishman."

E’MAN: "And yet you know that he’s hiding in the attic."

W’MAN: "It was a suggestion!"

E’MAN: "Well I guess we’ll find out. But if he’s there then I’ve think we’ve found his collaborator, don’t you Welshman?"

WELSHMAN exasperated: "Oh, for pity’s sake!"

SCENE: Close up of black and white CCTV monitor. Englishman and Welshman are climbing a flight of stairs, coming towards the camera.

SCENE: Cut to Englishman and Welshman in colour again. The time machine and donkey from a previous episode are in the attic.

E’MAN: "When I told Butler to put these things away, I didn't intend for him to put a donkey in my attic! Remind me to dock his pay, Welshman."

SCENE: We pan out from the CCTV screen to see a Nazi sat monitoring a bank of CCTV screens and Goebbels beside him.

HENCHMAN: "Should we wake the Fuhrer?"

GOEBBELS: "Nein. He left explicit instructions not to be disturbed."

Camera pans left to include the door to the room. Englishman bursts in. View cuts to the other side of the room where Hitler is asleep in a large four-poster bed.

HITLER: "Not now, Eva,"

GOEBBELS: "Shhh! Quiet! You vill vake ze Fuehrer!"

E’MAN: "Oh, sorry…wait a minute! Get him, Welshman!"

Welshman rugby tackles Goebbels. The henchman makes a break for it through the doorway, but Englishman trips him with his umbrella at the last minute and the henchman tumbles through the door and down the staircase – ending up unconscious in a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs.

Englishman walks over to the bed.

E’MAN: "Wake up, Hitler." He pokes him hard through the covers with his umbrella.

HITLER: "Zzz…huh? Ach! GOEBBELS!"

E’MAN: "You’re under arrest, Hitler."

HITLER: "Nicht so fast, Englischman." He pulls a lever by the side of his bed. Metal panels rise up from the floor. A cacophany of clanking ensues. Finally the camera pulls back to reveal a complete Panzer – Hitler poking out the top. "HA HA HA HA HA!" Hitler closes the hatch and the tank accelerates across the loft. Goebbels jumps forwards and grabs onto the back of it.

Exterior view of roof – all is calm – birds singing – CRASH! Tank bursts through roof – slates and timbers flying everywhere.

Meanwhile, on the ground.

BUTLER: "Huh?" He looks up. The Panzer squashes him then speeds off into the distance.

Englishman and Welshman stand in the hole.

E’MAN: "Can you believe that, Welshman? Butler didn’t even try to stop him!"

W’MAN: "Yes, Englishman." Englishman inspects the hole.

E’MAN: "No, no, no, this won’t do at all – people will think we have a termite problem. Remind me to get a builder in to look at this hole."

W’MAN: "Yes, Englishman."

SCENE: Back in the drawing room. Englishman is stood at the window, his back to the room. Welshman is on the phone.

W’MAN: "Yes, thank you. We’ll come at once. Englishman?" He hangs up the phone.

E’MAN: "Hm?"

W’MAN: "That was the police department. Apparently Hitler was just spotted running a red light on Fifth Avenue. If we leave now we might still catch him."

E’MAN: "No, no – there’s no need, Welshman. I know exactly where he will have gone."

W’MAN: "You do?!"

E’MAN: "Don’t sound so surprised. I’ve spent years battling Hitler. If anyone knows how his mind works – it’s me."

W’MAN: "I see. So where has he gone?"

E’MAN: "Look at the facts, Welshman. Hitler has been squatting in my attic, ergo his financial resources must be low. With me so far?"

W’MAN: "Yes, go on."

E’MAN: "So – if he has no money he will raid his secret stash in…"

W’MAN: "In Switzerland?"

E’MAN: "No. It is precisely because the UN clamped down on his Swiss bank accounts that he is now in dire financial straits. No – Hitler will have gone somewhere else – to the fabled lost city of Nazi gold…Al-Dolforado,"

W’MAN: "Bravo, Englishman! Brilliant deduction."

E’MAN: "Thank you, thank you…Gracious me! The birds – the birds, they’re attacking!" Welshman hurries over and looks:

W’MAN: "No, Englishman, they’re just feeding,"

E’MAN: "Yes…feeding…that’s what I meant."

W’MAN: "I haven’t seen the woodpecker recently, Englishman…you haven’t shot it have you?"

E’MAN: "Welshman! What a thing to say! Certainly not. Just because you haven’t seen a bird does not mean that it’s dead. Some birds are naturally more shy and nervous than others. I mean, you don’t see any parrots around here, now do you?"

W’MAN: "No, but…"

E’MAN: "And I haven’t seen a single dodo since that I went on that hunting trip to Dodo Island." He sighs, "We certainly used a lot of dynamite that day. Although not everything went to plan."

W’MAN: "No?"

E’MAN: "No. The five thousand hunting rats we released wiped out not only the bird population but seven indigenous tribes too."

W’MAN: "But there weren’t any indigenous tribes on Dodo Island."

E’MAN: "No – not after we released the rats. All in all, a black day for hunting, Welshman."

W’MAN: "Doesn’t sound like the kind of thing that would normally upset you, Englishman."

E’MAN: "But I wanted to hunt those tribes to extinction myself."

W’MAN: "Ah."

SCENE: A press conference – which Englishman has called to announce his expedition to the deepest, darkest interior of the Hitlerian rainforest.

E’MAN: "Well, I think that explains everything. So – any volunteers?"

JOHN: "I’ll come,"

HELEN GRIM: "Oh, honey! I’ll come too! I can ride, shoot and fly better than any woman I know."

E’MAN: "A woman! Preposterous! There will be no women on my expedition."

HELEN: "Ohhh."

TOM: "It’s a man’s world."

HELEN: "Why don’t you volunteer then?"

TOM: "Alright, I will." He stands up.

E’MAN: "Name and qualifications?"

TOM: "Tom Richards – International Global News,"

E’MAN: "That’s all we need! An expedition of women and reporters. No, we have no use for you." A man enters from the rear of the room. The crowd murmurs.

HELEN: "Daddy!"

MAN: "Perhaps you have use for $100 million. I’m Michael Grim, head of International Global News, and I hereby authorise just such a contribution to your funds in return for you allowing my reporter on the expedition."

E’MAN: "Hmm…I could use $100 million. Bloody Labour government is putting up Council Tax again. Greedy swine. Slimy thieving scumbags – trying to drive me out of the home I’ve lived in for 23 years. Heartless money-grubbing lawyers the lot of ‘em. And it’s not just me, either. Think of the old people who worked hard all their lives to afford a nice house and now Labour wants to change the system to make annual Council Tax a percentage of the house’s value. I already bought my house! Why should I have to pay for it again! FILTHY DISGUSTING SOCIALIST BACKSTARDS! All living in their grace and favour homes – expense accounts, subsidised Council Tax, chauffeur driven cars, 100% guaranteed luxury pension schemes that we pay for – and it still doesn’t stop their wives cashing in or wearing the incorrect clothes when visiting the Pope."

W’MAN: "Er…Englishman?"

E’MAN: "Sorry, Welshman, but they really are just a bunch of thieves."

SCENE: Spinning newspapers on black background, one after the other. Headlines read: "ENGLISHMAN’S REVELATIONS TOPPLE CORRUPT AND SLEAZY LABOUR GOVERNMENT"

"ENGLISHMAN EXPEDITION LEAVES NEW YORK"

"ENGLISHMAN CAMI ALTO AMAZON"

"ENGLISHMAN LLEGA A RIO"

SCENE: The passenger jet carrying the party flies through the air.

SCENE: TV news.

NEWSREADER: "The latest bulletin from special correspondent Tom Richards of International Global News reports the Englishman expedition now flying over completely unexplored wilderness en route to Al-Dolforado – the fabled lost city of Nazi gold – somewhere in Hitleria’s endless rainforests."

SCENE: A seaplane touches down on a huge river in the jungle. The passengers disembark onto a wooden jetty. They are greeted by a swarthy local guide – Jose.

JOSE: "Ah, seenyour Engleeshman, this is truly an honour."

E’MAN: "So you’ve heard of me?"

JOSE: "Why, who hasn’t heard of the famous Engleeshman?" They proceed along the jetty to a somewhat ramshackle wooden building – outside of which is a pile of rather feminine looking luggage.

E’MAN: "What – what is the meaning of this?!" Helen steps out from a doorway.

HELEN: "Well you can’t expect me to wear only one outfit. Who knows how long we’ll be here for?"

E’MAN gruffly: "What are you doing here? I said no women on this trip."

HELEN: "My father paid $100 million."

E’MAN: "That was to cover my Council Tax bill – I mean, that was for one person – not two. You can just pack your things and fly back on the plane we came in on."

The seaplane takes off and flies away.

HELEN: "Well, I could borrow your helicopter to get back…but it would take a week."

E’MAN: "A week! Out of the question. We can’t take a woman with us – what do you think?"

W’MAN: "Too risky,"

JOSE: "Dangerous."

E’MAN: "Women are idiots!"

TOM: "It would be crazy to take a woman."

JOHN: "I don’t like it, but what choice have we?"

E’MAN: "None. Grr – oh, alright, you can come. But let’s get going – and no lollygagging. The helicopter will take us into the jungle and then it’s all on foot thereafter. Let’s go."

SCENE: Trekking through the jungle, the party is surrounded by dense vegetation.

E’MAN: "You know, Welshman, the rainforest is one of the least explored places in the world – in fact, it’s second only to the bottom of the ocean."

A large whale in a nearby tree starts singing (i.e. emitting whale song); everyone looks up at it. Realising that it has been noticed the whale starts bouncing off, like an oversized seal, through the treetops.

E'MAN: "Hmm, interesting, a new species of tree dwelling whale, unless I’m very much mistaken. And since I discovered it, I name it the ‘English whale’. Make a note, Welshman."

W’MAN: "Okay, so the new species you’ve discovered on this expedition are: the English whale, the English snake, the English spider and the English piranha." Welshman makes an entry in his notebook then closes it again.

LATER… still trekking through the jungle.

W’MAN: "Are you okay, Englishman? You look a bit off colour."

E’MAN: "Huh? Wha? No, no – I’m fine. I’m just not used to this heat. And to be truthful, I’m a little bit homesick." He sighs, "I wonder what’s going on right now back in good old Blighty…"

SCENE: View of Parliament Square outside the Houses of Parliament. Assembled on the grass are dozens of MPs dressed for a foxhunt. A horn sounds and

ANNOUNCER speaking through a megaphone: "A street urchin has been spotted on Park Lane. Gentlemen, to your horses!"

More horns blown and the MPs all gallop off.

Close up of two MPs wearing monocles, on horseback, both holding sherry-glasses, just before they set off:

MP #1: "It’s really the only humane way to deal with the poor."

MP #2: "Yes, I quite agree."

SCENE: The party is setting up camp for the night. Everyone has a hammock – except Englishman.

E’ MAN: "You remembered to bring a tent, right, Welshman?"

W’ MAN: "Um…no. I forgot."

E’ MAN: "But you did remember to bring that homework I set you?"

W’ MAN: "Oh! Sorry, Englishman."

E’ MAN: "Schoolboy error, Welshman!"

W’ MAN: "I know. Sorry, Englishman. By the way, where are you sleeping?"

E’ MAN: "My good friend Stung – former lead singer of ‘The Rozzers’ and now a respected solo-artist in his own right – has invited me to stay. So I’ll be staying there tonight."

Englishman spins around and parts the foliage to reveal a huge area of slashed and burned rainforest. A huge mahogany ranch has been built in the middle of the clearing.

SCENE: In Stung’s house. Englishman and Stung.

STUNG: "Englishman! Good to see you."

E’ MAN: "Ah, Stung – my old friend. Glad to see your campaign to destroy the rainforest is going well."

STUNG: "Yes, quite well. But I’ve recently taken some time out to write some new songs. In fact, one of them was inspired by you. Do you want to hear it?" Stung picks up a guitar leaning against the wall.

E’ MAN: "Not real-"

STUNG: # "ONE, TWO, THREE, There’s an Englishman in New York…"#

E’ MAN: "Yes, very nice. But am I not right in thinking that Sting already wrote that?"

STUNG angrily: "No, this is entirely original."

E’ MAN: "Pah! It’s about as original as an episode of Englishman."

A prolonged silence follows. Tumbleweed blows across the living room floor. Englishman notices an old movie poster in a frame on the wall.

E’ MAN: "Ah – I see you’re a big fan of Alfred Stopcock, the famous English Hollywood director."

STUNG: "Yes, I have all his movies on Laserdisc."

E’ MAN: "Get with the times, Sting, it’s not the Eighties anymore!"

STUNG: "For legal reasons it’s ‘Stung’."

E’ MAN: "You know, I worked with Stopcock."

STUNG: "Really?"

E’ MAN: "Yes, I had a bit part in ‘Dial M for Englishman’."

STUNG: "Doesn’t the title imply that you should have been the star?"

E’ MAN: "My scenes were deleted. Difference of artistic opinion. Fat, stupid, old…anyway, shouldn’t speak ill of the dead – might get sued."

STUNG: "No, it’s alright, you can’t be guilty of libelling or slandering the dead. It’s just living singer-songwriters who might sue the writers… I mean you."

E’ MAN: "Ah, good. There’s no end to the number of lies I can invent about Hitchcock."

STUNG: "Hitchcock? I thought we were talking about Stopcock."

E’ MAN: "Not now that you’ve cleared up the legal position. I trust you, after all, you used to be a lawyer – NOT a teacher."

Englishman winks at Stung. Stung shifts uncomfortably.

E’ MAN: "Anyway, did you know that Hitchcock’s films were based on murders that he himself had committed? And he developed AIDS in his garden shed-cum-biological weapons lab because he hated berties."

Stung looks puzzled, then suddenly, there’s a rumbling sound, followed by the floorboards exploding up into the room and splintering everywhere. Zombie Hitchcock climbs out of the hole.

ZOMBIE HITCHCOCK: "GRRRRRRRRRR!"

BOTH E’MAN AND STUNG: "ZOMBIE HITCHCOCK!"

E’ MAN: "Whatever is he doing here? Here, in the middle of the rainforest – miles from anywhere, never mind the cemetery where he was buried. Pssst! Stung! What’s the legal position on libelling the undead?"

Stung shrugs.

ZOMBIE HITCHCOCK: "GRRRRRRRRRRR!"

E’MAN: "You know, Stung, I think maybe I’ll camp in the jungle with the rest of the group after all. I’ll leave you to clear up this mess and entertain your guest."

STUNG: "Yes, all right – good night, Englishman."

Camera cuts to Englishman walking out the front door.

Sound of Stung screaming.

ZOMBIE HITCHCOCK: "Brains! Flesh! Organs! Bone marrow! Zombie Hitchcock still hungry!"

SCENE: Camera pans slowly around the circular clearing around which the group has camped. Welshman stirs. Camera stops on a huge snake. An alarm clock goes off. The large snake sits up – Englishman’s outline is clearly visible.

E’MAN muffled: "Humph! Stupid alarm clock – it’s still dark." The snake lies back down. "Zzzz…more tea please, Butler…zzz…thank you."

Everybody else begins to get up. Camera cuts to Welshman in his hammock – rubbing his eyes and stretching.

Welshman makes his way over to Stung’s house. As he approaches he can see that windows have been smashed, porch furniture has been overturned and the door is hanging off its hinges. Inside there is similar destruction – furniture smashed, etc. There’s a pool of blood and a big smear across the floor leading to the hole.

W’MAN: "Englishman! NO!" A distraught Welshman falls to his knees.

Englishman – wearing snakeskin boots and carrying a snakeskin case in each hand – walks up behind Welshman, who turns around.

W’MAN: "Englishman! You’re alive!"

E’MAN: "No, thanks to you, Welshman. A snake swallowed me whilst I was sleeping."

W’MAN: "Oh, is that where you got the new boots and hand luggage?"

E’MAN: "Don’t be ridiculous. I got these from that Louis Vuitton boutique over there." Camera cuts to small shop near to Stung’s house. "The snake is right here." Englishman opens one of the cases and deposits the body of the huge snake on Stung’s living room floor.

Suddenly there’s a strange high-pitched wailing noise that’s coming from outside in the jungle. Welshman and Englishman rush out onto the porch.

W’MAN: "What is it Englishman?"

E’MAN: "I can’t be sure, but it resembles descriptions I’ve read about the war cry of a fabled race of Nazi pygmies that live here in the jungle and who protect the lost city of Nazi gold from outsiders."

W’MAN: "Nazi pygmies in a South American jungle? However did that come about?"

E’MAN: "There are many legends about their origin, Welshman. The two most popular among academics are as follows: one, that during World War Two, a Luftwaffe bomber, filled with propaganda leaflets destined for Britain, went off course and crossed the Atlantic. Mistaking the pygmies’ fires for the bright lights of London, they dropped their load and indoctrinated the pygmies with Nazi values."

W’MAN: "And the other ridiculous explanation?"

E’MAN: "That they are not pygmies at all, but Irish Republican leprechauns, who were hired by Hitler during World War Two. As we all know, the IRA allied itself with Hitler’s murderous regime to try and overthrow the British – and they still failed, because they are disgusting cowards who would sell out their own mothers and who stand for nothing except greed, violence and bloodshed."

W’MAN: "You’re really on a roll today, Englishman."

E’MAN: "If the IRA wants to be held morally accountable for the murder of seven million Jews then that’s up to them. Besides, I did warn people that series two of Englishman may just be political monologues outlining my views – i.e. my dislike of everyone and everything!"

W’MAN: "Are you depressed? Have you thought about counselling, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "No, time for that now, Welshman. Look! The pygmies approach!"

In the distance a group of pygmy warriors, armed with spears and bows and arrows, emerges from the tree line.

W’MAN: "Now, Englishman, you’re not going to leave our defence until the last minute again so that they practically overrun us, are you?"

E’MAN: "No, no, Welshman, that’ll never happen to me…at least not again."

SCENE: <FLASHBACK> On a beach – a group of angry midgets is charging towards Englishman, sat in a deck chair, and Welshman.

W’MAN: "Englishman, shouldn’t we do something?"

E’MAN: "No, there’s plenty of time. They’re still miles away."

W’MAN: "Er…" The midgets arrive and set about beating Englishman with sticks.

E’MAN: "Argh! Small people! How did this happen?!" <FLASHBACK ENDS>

SCENE: Englishman and Welshman are still on the porch, pygmies still charging towards them. Then: zombies start pulling themselves up through the ground in front of the pygmies and fighting them.

E’MAN: "Look, Welshman, we’re saved! It must be an outing of the Zombie Director’s Guild. There’s Zombie Hitchcock, and there – Zombie Orson Welles – and look – Zombie Sergio Leone."

W’MAN: "Hooray!"

E’MAN: "This is good news, Welshman."

W’MAN: "Good news?! How?!"

E’MAN: "If the pygmies live nearby then we must be near the lost city."

W’MAN: "Ahhhhh!"

E’MAN: "We must continue at once whilst the pygmies are occupied. Inform the group that we’re departing immediately."

W’MAN: "Yes, Englishman."

SCENE: The group is again trekking through the jungle. Jose is leading, cutting a path through the vegetation with a machete.

JOSE: "SENOR ENGLEESHMAN! LOOK!"

The camera pans up and zooms out to show a huge and magnificent stone pyramid. A gasp of awe sweeps through the party as they step out into the clearing.

E’MAN: "You lot look around. Welshman, you’re with me. We’re going to find the treasure room."

They split up.

SCENE: In the treasure room, which glows brightly with all the gold. Englishman picks up a small gold ingot between his thumb and forefinger and holds it up to his eye to inspect it.

E’MAN: "Hmm…I’ve never seen such small gold ingots before. I wonder why they’re this size."

W’MAN: "Uh..Englishman, those are Jews’ teeth,"

E’MAN: "Arrh! Eww!"

A voice calls from outside:

JOSE: "Senor Engleeshman, com queekly!"

SCENE: Englishman and Welshman leave the treasure room at speed and meet up with the rest of the group who are congregated in a courtyard around what looks like the entrance to a military bunker.

E’MAN: "Stay here, everybody, Welshman and I will investigate."

He opens the door and they make their way into the blackness.

TEN MINUTES LATER…

E’MAN: "I do wish it wasn’t so dark in this underground bunker. We seem to have been walking down this perfectly straight corridor for ages. Welshman – get out your dragon and light him up so that we can see where we are."

Light fills a stone room and reveals that Englishman and Welshman have walked onto a treadmill and have been going nowhere.

E’MAN: "Humph!"

They dismount and make their way down the room to a door marked: "FUHRER’S SECRET BUNKER HIDEOUT. KEEP OUT."

E’MAN: "Stand back, Welshman."

Englishman kicks in the door, revealing a collection of Nazi and SS officers, Hitler’s secretary and Eva Braun. Every head in the room turns to look at Englishman.

E’MAN: "Freeze, Hitler! On behalf of the UN I hereby arrest you for war crimes."

Everyone in the bunker suddenly commits suicide in various ways – gunshot, cyanide, gunshot + cyanide, hanging, guillotine, hari-kari, dousing self in petrol, etc.

E’MAN irritated and resigned: "Oh, great! The UN are going to have a field day with this one! It’s always my fault!"

Englishman emerges from the bunker. The square is now full of WW2 Soviet Red Army soldiers. T-34 tanks are positioned around the square.

Camera zooms out backwards into the sky until the detail is lost and there’s just the greenery of the rainforest.

ROLL CREDITS – interspersed with…

Adolf Hitler, born 1889 in Braunau am Inn, escaped alive from his bunker dressed as his secretary. To this day, Hitler continues to live under the guise of his secretary, eluding international justice and continuing to be a thorn in the side of Englishman.

Goebbels – whose cyanide pill turned out to be aspirin – started a small chain of garden centres and lives with his mother and two cats in a terraced house in Bradford, where he campaigns for racial inequality in his spare time.

Englishman was going to have some counselling but baulked at the ridiculous prices and said he’d rather be trepanned.

Welshman secretly continues to medicate Englishman without his knowledge using powerful psychotropic drugs.

E’MAN: "What was that?"

W’MAN: "Nothing, Englishman, you just have some tea."

E’MAN: "Oooh! Tea!"

SCENE: At the Englishmansion. The sitting room. Englishman in his armchair, Welshman in his.

ENGLISHMAN: "Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!" Englishman begins chuckling to himself, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Before breaking into a raucous, side-splitting guffaw of a laugh. Welshman smiles,

WELSHMAN: "What’s so funny, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "I’ve planted a bomb at a fundraiser that the Irish American community is holding for Sinn Fein/IRA down at the Fictional Manhattan Conference Rooms. Ought to give them a taste of their own medicine!"

W’MAN: "Hmm…I don’t really approve, but I guess it’s not as bad as it could be. You did make sure that any adjoining conference rooms would be empty though, didn’t you – so as to minimise collateral damage?"

E’MAN furrows his brow thoughtfully: "Ah…"

SCENE: In the foyer of the Conference Room building. The notice board reads:

CONFERENCE ROOM #1: ANNUAL NEO-NAZI CONVENTION (Dress code: Swastika armbands optional).

CONFERENCE ROOM #2: SINN FEIN / IRA FUND RAISER (Dress code: Poorly improvised mortar optional)

CONFERENCE ROOM #3: ANNUAL ISLAMIC FUNDAMENTALISTS’ CONVENTION (Dress code: bomb strapped to chest optional)

Switch to exterior view. Whole building explodes.

Close up on Nazi flying through the air:

NAZI: "Save me, merciful Allah!"

Close up of terrorist:

TERRORIST: "Save me, merciful Hitler!"

SCENE: Back at the Englishmansion.

E’MAN: "You know, Welshman, I don’t know why the families of those killed by the IRA haven’t yet sued the IRA’s American fund raising arm."

W’MAN: "That’s a good idea, Englishman. They should do that. Anyway, what’s the plot of this week’s episode?"

E’MAN: "I’m glad you asked me that, Welshman. Got us out of that introductory cul-de-sac very nicely. This week’s episode…hmm…put the TV on; that might give us some inspiration."

From TV: "And now it’s time for ‘Cooking with Osama!’" cheesy music plays.

OSAMA cheerfully: "Hello, welcome, welcome! Today I will be cooking up a delicious roast suckling-" enraged "-IMPERIALIST PIG-DOG!-" cheerfully "-You can get your pig-dog at any Al-Qaida approved Halal Butcher’s or by writing to: ‘Osama’s Halal Pig-dog supplies, 1 Tora-Bora Cave Complex, Afghanistan Border Region, outside UK’."

E’MAN: "Really, Welshman, I’ve had it up to here with these dressing-gown-wearing, towel-headed shower-lovers!"

SCENE: Cuts to two Arab gents sitting in a Turkish baths wearing dressing-gowns, their hair wrapped up with towels in the female manner.

ARAB #1: "Ah! That was a nice shower."

ARAB #2 lights a cigarette: "Yeah, shower, whatever . . ."

SCENE: Cuts back.

E’MAN: "What say we go after Osama bin Laden again? We were supposed to be battling him a couple of weeks ago, but we got side-tracked meeting the Ayatollah."

W’MAN: "Oh, yes, I remember. Osama it is."

E’MAN: "Pack your service revolver; we may need it."

W’MAN: "Service revolver? I don’t own a gun."

E’MAN: "Oh…I wonder whom I’m thinking of. Never mind – let’s go to the gun store."

SCENE: At the gun store. Englishman enters.

CUSTOMER (who bears an uncanny resemblance to Arnie…and who talks in precisely the same voice): "The 12-gauge auto-loader; the .45 long-slide with the laser sighting; plasma rifle in the 40 watt range."

SALESMAN: "Hey, only what you see, pal."

E’MAN: "Excuse me, I’m in a hurry. Do you mind if I cut in?"

CUSTOMER: "Please, carry on."

E’MAN: "Lee Enfield bolt-action rifle with WWI-style bayonet; flintlock pistol, circa AD1700; the volleygun -"

SALESMAN: "Sheesh! Everyone’s at it today! Like I told this guy: only what you see, pal."

E’MAN: "Hmm…I don’t think much of your attitude, but all right. Er…I will have the…Sig Sauer, Glock, MP5, MP5K, Steyr AUG, M3 shotgun, grenade launcher, heat-seeker missile launcher, minigun, recoilless rifle, grenades, claymore mines and remote control explosives."

SALESMAN: "So, which’ll it be? Any one would be good for home defence."

E’MAN: "Home defence? I think you mean ‘homeland security’ – I’m going terrorist hunting. And I’ll take all of them."

SCENE: Back at the Englishmansion.

E’MAN: "BUTLER!"

SMASH! CRASH! TINKLE! Butler arrives in the room having hang-glided in through the closed window.

BUTLER: "Yes, sir?"

E’MAN: "Whilst we’re away I want you to call an exterminator about those mice that have been chewing holes in the skirting board."

W’MAN: "Mice? What mice?"

Englishman picks up a video marked "SECURITY FOOTAGE" and puts it in the VCR. A black and white picture of the hall comes on. Four shapes appear, they become clearer as they move closer the camera. It becomes obvious that the shapes are (British) badgers. Welshman rolls his eyes at Englishman’s mistake.

W’MAN: "Those aren’t mice, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Nonsense. Now shut up and pack."

BADGER FACT: BADGERS ARE EXTREMELY PARTIAL TO PEANUTS, DESPITE PEANUTS NOT BEING NATIVE TO THE BRITISH ISLES. NOW, BACK TO OUR FEATURE PRESENTATION…

SCENE: At the airport – at the check-in desk. Welshman is pushing a supermarket trolley full of the newly acquired weapons. Englishman pats down his jacket, looking for his wallet.

E’MAN: "You couldn’t spot me the money for airfare could you, Welshman?"

W’MAN: "What happened to the £12 billion in your account last week, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "I used it all to buy treasury bonds, Welshman. But I’ve misplaced the certificates."

SCENE: Cut to Butler, in front of the Englishmansion, loading the back of a lorry with reams of treasury bonds. He flicks the breast of a small Oriental statuette as The Ode to Joy plays.

SCENE: Cut back to Englishman and Welshman.

W’MAN: "But surely you still have your gold reserves!"

E’MAN: "Er . . "

SCENE: Cut to (unmoving) Indian Cigar Statue next to a small lorry which is half filled with gold bars.

SCENE: Concord in the air. It comes into land. Englishman deplanes. Iraq: On a British army base.

W’MAN: "Er…I’m not sure that we’ll find Osama bin Laden here, Englishman."

E’MAN: "I find your lack of faith disturbing, Welshman."

W’MAN: "Sorry, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Anyway, I’m not expecting to find Osama here. I just have a favour to perform for an old friend before we go after Osama."

W’MAN: "What kind of favour?"

E’MAN: "Nothing much, I’ve just been asked to quell the unrest in Iraq."

W’MAN: "Small favour?!"

E’MAN: "That’s right. So you wait here and I’ll be back as quick as I can,"

SCENE: A convoy of British military vehicles rolls down a dusty road. Englishman is sticking out of the turret of a Challenger II tank. The lead vehicle brakes hard and comes to a halt. The convoy stops behind it.

VOICE ON THE RADIO: "There’s a roadside bomb up ahead, sir. What are your orders?"

E’MAN: "Do I have to do everything myself? Everyone knows you form squares against roadside bombs! FORM A SQUARE!"

Eight army Land Rovers surround the tank on all sides – forming a square.

E’MAN: "Move out!"

The convoy moves slowly off. BOOM! The bomb goes off. Screams. Carnage. The doors of burning Land Rovers are thrown open as troops jump clear.

E’MAN: "Or is it a tortoise? Yes…we should’ve formed a tortoise. Stop burning men! It’s thoroughly un-British!"

SOLDIER: "Aiiiiiieeeeeee! Oh, sorry, sir." Fire extinguishes itself.

E’MAN: "Prepare to move out!" Englishman taps the turret and the tank moves off, pushing through the debris.

Fade out.

Fade in.

SCENE: Englishman is being presented with a medal by the Prime Minister of Iraq in a huge ceremony attended by hundreds of dignitaries – both Iraqi and foreign, eg. British PM, American President (Abe Lincoln) – and ordinary Iraqis.

IRAQI PM: "For restoring law and order, resolving the conflicts between our various religious factions, bringing peace to Iraq and further enriching our nation by finding all that extra oil, on behalf of all Iraqis, I am proud to present you with this medal in recognition of your achievements,"

E’MAN: "Thank you. I will treasure it until I am forced to flog it just to afford my unjust Council Tax bill."

Englishman waves to the crowd. Much joyous cheering and flag waving.

SCENE: In Afghanistan: driving along a dirt road.

E’MAN: "All right, Welshman, we’re here now – satisfied?"

Their jeep arrives at an insurgent checkpoint manned by three guards. They stop. Englishman stands up.

GUARD: "HALT! Who are you and what are you doing here? Show me your identification."

E’MAN: "I, sir, am a subject of His Britannic Majesty. You don’t need to see my identification." He waves his hand superciliously.

GUARD: "We don’t need to see your identification. Move along. Move along."

A second guard lifts the barrier. The jeep sets off again.

E’MAN: "Aha! We must be getting close to the prize now, Welshman. Drive on, driver!" Englishman sits down again and the jeep drives off into the distance.

SCENE: A luxury hotel room. Englishman opens the draw of the nightstand by the bed. His view: the Qu’ran. He lifts it out of the draw.

E’MAN: "Look, Welshman. Where we have the Gideons, they have the…" He opens to the inside cover and reads the stamp, ‘PLACED HERE BY, "The al-Aqsa Martyr’s Brigade. How nice."

WELSHMAN disapprovingly: "Uh-huh."

E’MAN: "You know, I tried reading this once," he waves the book at Welshman, "It was written by a man named Mohammed, I believe. But to be honest," He lowers his voice, "I don’t think that man’s first language was English. It’s just a bunch of scribbles and doodles!"

W’MAN: "That’s Arabic, Englishman."

E’MAN: "‘Arabic’, eh? Is that the Welsh word for gibberish? Anyway, in the end I just had to make up my own sounds to go with each of his scribbles. For instance, this passage," Englishman ‘reads’ from the book in a high-pitched voice, "Flooble-ooble-ooble-ibble-ooble-loodle-doodle-flibble! If you ask me, it’s no wonder so many followers of this religion kill themselves! I would too!"

W’MAN: "Once again, Englishman you have managed to be both offensive and incorrect in one rude, stupid and ill-thought-out outburst. Fortunately, all the jokes are at your expense, and emphatically not at the religion's, so the writer's may still receive an honorary doctorate of Islamic Law from Egypt University." He pauses. "But getting back to the point: However are we going to find Osama bin Laden when MI6, Mossad, the CIA, NSA and the entire US army and all their spy satellites haven’t been able to?"

E’MAN: "Simple. I have something that none of them have."

W’MAN: "What’s that? Impeccable manners? A love of tea? Degrees from Oxbridge, Harvard and the University of the Rich and Famous, Hollywood Campus in English Literature and English Language?"

E’MAN: "Yes, yes – all of those things. But what I was referring to was my superior detective skills which will allow me to triumph in finding bin Laden where everyone else has failed."

W’MAN: "I see. So what are we going to do?"

E’MAN: "Well now that we’re here in Afghanistan, at the 5-star Tora Bora Ritz, I plan to ring round all the local takeaways until I find one that Osama uses regularly. Then I will simply place an order and follow the delivery boy. Elementary, my dear Welshman."

SCENE: Rock music plays as picture switches between: Close up of Yellow Pages – Englishman on phone – Englishman hanging up phone – back to Yellow Pages. Eventually:

E’MAN: "Hello, Wang Chin’s Halal Chinese Takeaway? Yes, Eng- I mean Mr bin Laden here."

VOICE ON PHONE: "Ah, Mr bin Laden! So good to hear from you again, sir. I feared the Americans must have successfully bombed you,"

E’MAN: "HA HA HA! Never, my good friend. I will overthrow their decadent regime or my name isn’t John Q. bin Laden,"

VOICE: "I never knew that was your name. It’s not the name on your credit card."

E’MAN: "NEVER MIND THAT NOW! Just take my order so that I can follow your delivery guy."

VOICE: "Huh?"

E’MAN: "I mean, just send me the usual."

VOICE: "Okay, Mr bin Laden, right away. And don’t forget, if we don’t deliver within forty-five minutes, then we’ve probably been bombed by the US airforce – but all the same, ten percent off the cost of your order."

SCENE: Outside the Chinese takeaway, Englishman and Welshman watch from across the street as the delivery boy loads up his moped. He leaves.

E’MAN: "After him, Welshman. Don’t let him out of your sight!"

They follow the delivery boy out of town and up into the mountains. On a steep and narrow pass the moped turns a corner. When Englishman and Welshman get to the corner there’s no sign of their quarry.

E’MAN: "Curses! But he can’t have got far. The entrance to the cave complex must be around here somewhere. Start looking. You go that way; I’ll go this way."

They split up and start looking around. Englishman heads over to some caves and peers in.

E’MAN: "Psssst! Welshman! Get over here!" Welshman goes over. "Unless I’m very much mistaken, bin Laden is hiding in this cave." Welshman peers in the cave entrance.

W’MAN: "Nope, you’re wrong, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Curious, that’s the fourteenth time I’ve been very much mistaken since breakfast – when I thought that Hitler was responsible for my eggs being runny."

Englishman proceeds to the next cave.

E’MAN: "This time I’m really sure, Welshman. You know…I don’t like to say it, but we might not return from this mission."

W’MAN: "Englishman! Don’t talk like that!"

E’MAN: "It’s true, Welshman, so just listen to what I have to say for a moment. If I die, there’s something I need you to do for me." Englishman takes out his gold pocket watch. "I want you to give this to one of my children – it’s been handed down through generations of Englishmen."

W’MAN: "I didn’t know you had any children, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Neither did I until all these lawyers started suing me for child support. It all goes back to when that company wanted to know what gave me…"

W’MAN: "Your superpowers?"

E’MAN: "Yes, my Englishness. So I provided them with all kinds of biological samples for them to experiment on. Hair, blood, saliva, semen – the lot. Anyway, it was just bad luck that the plane carrying all those samples crashed into the sea just off Europe’s largest nudist beach."

Welshman, his mouth gaping wide open, looks shocked and appalled. He retches.

E’MAN: "Anyway, now that that’s out of the way – let’s go."

Englishman wanders into another cave and then re-emerges.

E’MAN: "Hmm…we’re never going to find him at this rate. I know, maybe my good friend President Armoured Dinner Jacket has bin Laden’s address." Englishman dials on his mobile phone.

Cut to: Iran. A ringing telephone in the Presidential palace. Voice only:

PRESIDENT: "Hold on! I’m coming! Just a minute!" Ahmadinejad appears dripping wet, clutching a towel wrapped round his waist. "Yes? Hello?"

E’MAN: "Ah, President Armoured Dinner Jacket!"

PRESIDENT: "Oy, vey! Englishman, you schlemiel, I keep telling you, that’s not my name, why not, exactly!"

E’MAN: "Calm down there, old chap,"

PRESIDENT: "What?! What do you want?!"

Just then, Osama bin Laden emerges from a cave a little further across the mountainside and lights a cigarette. He is a short man who shuffles along with a thick, gnarled walking stick.

E’MAN: "Oh, never mind." Englishman hangs up. Then he turns to his sidekick, "Let me handle this, Welshman."

Englishman approaches bin Laden.

E’MAN: "Hello! I say, I’m a little lost, could you direct me to the nearest British Consulate?"

Bin Laden surveys Englishman.

BIN LADEN: "Something tells me that that is not why you have come here."

E’MAN: "You’re right. I…I want to join you in your fight against the infidel.

BIN LADEN Yoda voice from this point on: "No. Too old to begin the training, you are. Too old and too English!" He sighs and shuffles his feet. Saddam Hussein appears in ghostly form.

GHOST SADDAM: "I too was old when I began the training. Do you regret training me?"

BIN LADEN sighs.

E’MAN: "Bin Laden…bin Laden…Didn’t I go to Oxford with your brother?"

BIN LADEN: "No, I don’t think so."

E’MAN: "I’m pretty sure."

BIN LADEN: "NO!"

E’MAN: "Oh, I don’t know what I’m doing here. We’re wasting our time!"

BIN LADEN: "Hmm, much anger in him, like his father. He is not ready,"

E’MAN: "Hey! I am ready. Tell him, Saddam! I – I can be a jihadi. Saddam, tell him I’m ready."

BIN LADEN: "Ready, are you? What know you of ready? For eight hundred years have I trained al-Qa’ida terrorists."

E’MAN: "Eight hundred years? That’s some wrinkle cream you’ve got there."

BIN LADEN: "Mmm! Botox it is."

E’MAN: "Ah!"

Just then there is a prolonged lightning strike which knocks bin Laden to his knees.

BIN LADEN: "Pleeeeeease! Help meeeee! Pleeeeeeeease!"

His face begins to crease and deep wrinkles form. The lightning ends. Bin Laden pulls his hood up over his head. His face is now in shadow; he looks much older but his eyes shine.

BIN LADEN now sounding like the Emperor: "Enough of this charade. I know why you’re here."

E’MAN: "You do?"

BIN LADEN: "Yes, I know all about your fleet. It’s sailing right into my trap.

Your US Seventh Fleet is lost." Englishman takes out a telescope and extends it. He looks towards the sea.

E’MAN: "Oh, tosh! I’ve got news for you, bin Laden. It’s your fleet that’s been destroyed. We’ve already sunk both your suicide fishing-boats and your suicide dinghy. Only your suicide kayak remains, and soon that will be lost too." Bin Laden gestures to the valley below with a sweeping motion of his hand.

BIN LADEN: "Well, your friends down there in the sanctuary of al-Moon are walking into a trap."

E’MAN: "What friends? What are you talking about?" Englishman surveys the valley through his telescope.

Ewoks are using ropes to pull some AT-STs over. A man who looks remarkably like Han Solo gives Englishman the near universal "A-okay" signal from the doorway of a bunker like building. Englishman lowers the telescope from his eye.

E’MAN: "No, everything’s fine there, too."

BIN LADEN: "Please excuse me now. I have an interview scheduled."

SCENE: Cave interior. Bin Laden, on a sofa, straightens his turban. A stage hand adjusts the microphone clipped to his robes. Camera switches to Georgey G.

GEORGEY G voice of Ali G, of course: "Booyakasha! I is ‘ere with me main man – Osama bomb laden."

BIN LADEN: "Bin Laden."

GEORGEY G: "A’ight, whatever, whatever. So, Mr bin Abadboy, I salute your cowardice, your hypocrisy and your compete lack of moral fibre – all traits that I very much admire and aspire to emulate, a’ight. Now, why is you wearin’ a dress? Are you like a tranny or sumfing?"

BIN LADEN: "It is traditional dress for my people."

GEORGEY G: "A’ight, all trannies wear dresses. Dat’s de ‘ole point, innit!"

BIN LADEN standing and shouting angrily: "THIS INTERVIEW IS OVER!"

GEORGEY G: "Mr Gossamer Underwired Bra, fank you."

Bin Laden extends a hand, showering Georgey G. with electricity.

Camera cuts to Englishman and Welshman over to one side of the cave, in the shadows.

E’MAN: "Look at bin Laden, Welshman, and tell me what you see."

W’MAN: "Er… a despicable lowlife…an inhuman monster."

E’MAN: "No, no, no. I mean, look at his brow. Even under these hot studio lights he isn’t sweating. I think he’s wearing a rubber mask."

W’MAN: "Well spotted, Englishman!"

E’MAN: "Well I’m going to get to the bottom of this right now."

Englishman strides across and pulls the mask from bin Laden’s head.

E’MAN and W’MAN: "FRENCHMAN!"

E’MAN: "I should have guessed…somehow. But, but why have you embarked on this crusade against America."

FRENCHMAN: "Well, zey are always so snooty towards us! I just sort zat I would teach zem a lesson, but then theengs got kind of out-of-hand."

E’MAN: "And why the attack on New York?"

F’MAN: "It was all a diversion so zat I could take back zee Statue of Liberty. Zose Americans deed not deeserve eet! So I took eet back for all of Fronce!"

E’MAN: "See if he’s telling the truth, Welshman. Check Google Earth."

W’MAN: "On it, Englishman!" Welshman sits down at a computer on a desk in the corner of the cave. After a few clicks of the mouse a screen comes up showing a satellite picture of New York. Where the Statue of Liberty should be there is a T shape. Picture cuts to New York and a giant 2-D cardboard cut out of the Statue of Liberty with a pull out cardboard stand.

W’MAN: "It’s true, Englishman. He isn’t lying,"

E’MAN: "Alright, Frenchman, tell us where the real statue is and maybe, just maybe, the UN Department of Justice Involving the Theft of Giant Statues will go easy on you."

F’MAN: "I weel never tell you. She is somwhere zat no-one weel ever find ‘er."

Scene cuts to Paris and the Eiffel Tower; the Statue of Liberty is atop the Eiffel Tower batting at attacking bi-planes.

F’MAN: "So long, Engleeshman!" Frenchman pulls out an onion and throws it. It sparks into life, smoke fills the room.

E’MAN: Cough, cough "After him, Welshman! Don’t let him get away."

Frenchman ducks through a doorway; Welshman follows.

New view: Frenchman in the foreground, embracing a woman in a French maid’s outfit. Welshman opens the door in the background.

W’MAN: "Frenchman, what are you doing to that poor woman?"

F’MAN contemptuously: "You stupid Welsh man! Can you not see zat zis woman ‘as fainted and I ’ave caught ’er?"

WELSHMAN abashed: "Oh…carry on then."

Frenchman lets go of the woman, who falls to the floor, and turns and runs off…straight into a stone wall, knocking himself out.

SCENE: Frenchman’s view. Blackness. He blinks. A blurry Englishman leans over him.

E’MAN: "Pass me the cranial saw, Welshman. We have more chance of finding out the location of the statue the sooner we get his brain into my corpse’s-mind-reading-machine."

Cut to third-person view of the room. Englishman in a gore splattered apron; Frenchman lying on a table-top.

W’MAN: "Are you sure he’s dead?"

E’MAN: "Quite sure. The stench of putrefaction is almost overpowering,"

W’MAN: "You know, the smell might just be because he’s French. He looks to me as though he might just be unconscious."

E’MAN: "No, definitely not,"

F’MAN: Groan!

W’MAN: "What was that?"

E’MAN: "Nothing!"

W’MAN: "Look, he’s moving!"

E’MAN: "Merely some residual electrical activity. Quite common, Welshman."

F’MAN: "Ohhhhhh…Where am I?"

Frenchman’s ‘corpse’ sits up and rubs its head.

E’MAN: "Bad corpse!" and Englishman pushes the corpse back down to the table and straps it down.

W’MAN: "Englishman, I really think he’s still alive,"

E’MAN: "Nonsense! You’re very dead, aren’t you?"

F’MAN: "Uh?"

E’MAN: "Yes, good corpse. Now, I’ll just begin conducting the post-mortem." Englishman pokes a scalpel into Frenchman.

F’MAN: "ARGH!"

W’MAN: "Stop, Englishman! He’s alive!"

E’MAN: "Oh, don’t be so melodramatic, Welshman. He’s quite, quite dead."

Welshman grabs the scalpel from Englishman’s hand before he can cut open Frenchman.

E’MAN: "Oh, fine! Ruin my experiment. But it’s going to be your fault when we have to report to the UN that we have no idea where the Statue of Liberty is."

W’MAN: "Wait, I have an idea."

Welshman walks over to a computer in the corner of the room. He brings up Google. He types something in.

W’MAN: "Here we go, Englishman. It’s at the Eiffel Tower,"

E’MAN: "Amazing. Is there anything Google doesn’t know? Let’s go. I don’t think Frenchman can escape these restraints so he should just starve to death once we leave."

W’MAN: "Er… I’m not sure that morally that’s something that we should do."

E’MAN: "Stop nit-picking, Welshman. He’s French!"

W’MAN: "I guess…no, wait! Damn, your insensitivity is beginning to wear off on me Englishman. Englishman?" He begins to turn.

Englishman creeps up behind Welshman and hits him over the head with a meat tenderiser. CLONK!

Sudden black.

ROLL CREDITS.

Did you spot today's Badger Fact? You may be surprised to learn that every episode of this series has contained a badger fact.*

Also, please take a moment to join in our audience survey. Do you read Englishman a) for the bad jokes? b) for the bad storylines? or c) because someone lied to you and said this thread contained pornography? Thank you for your time!

* No guarantee that this claim is factually correct.

SCENE: The Englishmansion. Englishman is reading the newspaper: His former employee, the Cigar Statue Indian, is in the news for saving New York.

ENGLISHMAN: "I’m beginning to regret ever having given him a job in the first place - damn affirmative action! All he ever does is steal my thunder! Hmph! It’s so annoying. I shall try not to think about it. And I have no idea how he made all that money!" Englishman peers at the photos spread across the inside pages – an in depth feature on the Cigar Statue. One photo is of the Cigar Statue in his Fifth Avenue apartment – and in the background by the fireplace is a pile of gold bars stamped with Englishman’s family crest.

E’MAN: "You know, his family crest looks almost exactly the same as mine… Why, he even has the same motto – Lucrum ex aliis mortuis. Anyway, what’s that you’re reading, Welshman?"

Welshman tips up the book so that the front cover is visible to Englishman.

E’MAN: "’Teach yourself polish’, ey? That’s not very good grammar. Surely it should be, ‘Teach oneself to polish’? Must be written by some immigrant cleaner not familiar with our language. Anyway, we have servants to do that kind of thing, so why do you want to learn how to polish?"

WELSHMAN: "No, Englishman, it’s a guide to learning the language."

E’MAN: "Oh! …What good will it do you to learn polish? Who needs to talk to cleaning products?"

W’MAN: "No, Englishman, Polish – the language of the Poles,"

E’MAN: "Ohhhhhh!" he exclaims, a look of understanding sweeping across his face, but he quickly reverts to looking extremely confused and goes back to reading his newspaper.

SCENE: In a darkened and smoke-shrouded room, the heads of New York’s mob families are gathered around a table.

MOB BOSS: #1: "So we’re agreed, we must strike back against Englishman."

ALL: "Yes…" "Hear, hear!"

MOB BOSS #2: "Oh, I’m booked solid next week. I'm rigging that election."

MOB BOSS: #3: "Good point; let me check my diary."

MOB BOSS: #4: "I heard he might be fighting Hitler next week."

MOB BOSS: #1: "Okay, okay, we’ll pencil the next mob episode – I mean ‘attack’ – in for three weeks today – subject to Englishman’s availability. Agreed?"

ALL: "Agreed."

MOB BOSS: #1: "Three weeks it is,"

THREE WEEKS LATER…

SCENE: Englishman has been testifying before the Senate Committee on Organized Crime. He and Welshman descend the wide, expansive, white marble steps in front of the government building. Upon reaching the last few steps a 1930s car squeals round the corner and speeds along the road towards them. As Englishman and Welshman look to see what the commotion is, the car’s windows are rolled down and tommy-guns are thrust out.

MOBSTER IN CAR: "Hey, Englishman, we got a message for you! We’re gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse."

WELSHMAN: "DOWN, ENGLISHMAN!"

They open fire with a hail of bullets.

ENGLISHMAN: "Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear over my sidekick’s shouting." Turning to Welshman, "You know, Welshman, you can be ever so rude sometimes!"

BANG! BANG! BANG! RAT-A-TAT-TAT! And the car speeds off.

Welshman, lying flat to the ground, raises his head from under his hands and looks astounded at the unscathed Englishman.

W’MAN: "But...but…how did they miss at point blank range?"

E’MAN: "Oh, they didn’t miss, dear boy. There simply hasn’t been a bullet invented that could kill me!"

W’MAN: "Not even a cyanide filled dum-dum bullet?"

E’MAN: "Well, let’s see, your service revolver, please, Welshman."

Welshman hands it over. Englishman then opens his coat to reveal the lining is festooned with packs of bullets of every calibre and variety. Labels sewn into the lining identify what each is. Close up shot pans along a row: "Standard bullets" "hollowpoint (dum-dum)" "curare tipped" "Arrow frog poison tipped" "Sarin tipped"

E’MAN: "Ah – here we go." And he picks out the "Cyanide-filled dum-dum bullets". He loads the revolver, turns the gun on himself – and shoots.

W’MAN: "ENGLISHMAN!!"

E’MAN: "It’s perfectly alright…I’m just a bit woozy" He collapses.

W’MAN: "Noooooooooo!"

E’MAN Croaks out: "Quick….Welshman …the ….antidote..."

W’MAN: "What is it? Where is it?"

E’MAN, a strained final gasp: "Tea!" and he closes his eyes. Blackness.

SCENE: Back at the Englishmansion, Englishman and Welshman are in the sitting room. (When the camera is on Englishman, we see only a close up of his face.)

W’MAN: "So that’s why there were no lasting effects from the cyanide. Oh, it all makes perfect sense now!"

E’MAN: "Jolly good. Anyway, you remember that trip into the Hitlerian rainforest the other week?"

W’MAN: "Yes. I remember it clearly. As though it was just last episode." He sighs contentedly and takes on a dreamy expression as though immersed in some pleasant thought. He snaps out of it. "Why do you ask?"

E’MAN: "Well, I brought back a few examples of some of those new species I discovered."

W’MAN: "Oh, yes? Isn’t that in breach of quarantine laws?"

E’MAN: "Not if you bribe the right people. Anyway, I seem to have misplaced some of them, so keep your wits about you. I’m particularly concerned about where my English chameleon might have got to."

Welshman ’s eyes creep slowly up Englishman’s face. The camera follows his stare. Sitting atop Englishman’s head, plain as day, is a chameleon – it turns around so that now its tail hangs down in front of Englishman’s face. Englishman remains oblivious. Welshman continues to stare.

E’MAN (very quiet): "…and so do keep an eye out, won’t you?" (normal volume), "Welshman?"

W’MAN: "Hmm?! Yes, yes…of course." He shakes his head slightly to clear his thoughts then looks again at Englishman. The chameleon has gone. Welshman peers around, trying to look behind Englishman. Englishman picks up the newspaper from the coffee table and sits down. Shadow looms over the terrified chameleon which is now in Englishman’s seat. It scuttles clear just as Englishman sits down. Welshman nips forward and scoops it up. He breathes a sigh of relief.

E’MAN: "Ah! Excellent work, Welshman! Now, if we can only work out where the English whale and all those poisonous English snakes have got to, we’ll be sitting pretty. Put the chameleon in a safe place won’t you? We don’t want anything happening to him. He’s a priceless, one in a billion scientific find. The preliminary tests that we just got back from the lab show that that little chameleon may hold the key to a cure for all known types of cancer."

Welshman nods and returns his gaze to the chameleon. It’s gone! Just then he sees out of the corner of his a long green tail flicking about. Welshman turns his head just in time to see his dragon, which is sat on his shoulder, finish eating the chameleon by slurping down its tail like spaghetti.

Englishman continues talking in the background.

Welshman looks startled. Pulling himself together,

W’MAN: "Ah, yes, Englishman. I’ll take good care of him; you can count on me. I’ll take him over to the reptile house at the zoo, okay? Where they can put him in a special climate controlled environment."

E’MAN: "Yes, you do that, Welshman. Gosh, that little fellow couldn’t wish for a better guardian than you, Welshman. You’re a regular Doctor Doolittle, always looking out for the animals. A regular Noah. A regular Bernard Matthews. Yes, off you go now."

SCENE: Later, Welshman returns from "the zoo". Englishman has dozed off in his chair and is talking in his sleep.

E’MAN: "No, General Franco, I won’t help you to overthrow the government… Yes, I suppose it is a socialist government…Fair point, the monarchy is Catholic…alright, I’ll do it, you’ve twisted my arm – I’ll finance your coup."

W’MAN: "Uh…Englishman?"

E’MAN: "Huh, wha? Oh, it’s just you, Welshman. I was having the most wonderful dream, where socialists were pitted against Catholics and there could be no victor – only much death and destruction on both sides. Gosh! Is that the time? It’s a good job you woke me up when you did. There’s no time to lose in deciphering that message that the Mafia sent me."

W’MAN: "But, Englishman, when he said ‘I’ve got a message for you’, I think that the message was in the shooting."

E’MAN: "I quite agree. Now, let us assume that each bullet fired represented a dot, and that the message is in Morse Code."

W’MAN: "No, Englishman… that’s not what I meant."

E’MAN: "Quiet, Welshman. Can’t you see I’m trying to concentrate here? So…as I recall, there were 233 shots – which makes 233 dots. But there are no dashes…hmm, interesting."

W’MAN: "Well, I suppose that if you’re trying to crack a non-existent code then it should at least keep you out of trouble for a while. If only you had more hobbies!"

E’MAN: "Why, I have lots of hobbies. For instance, I’m on the board of the Acronym Council. Everybody loves acronyms, Welshman. They’re great."

W’MAN: "They are?"

E’MAN: "Well I think so – and so do all the other members of the Council Responsible for Acronym Promotion. It’s just a pity that our own acronym, CRAP, doesn’t mean anything."

W’MAN: "Er…"

E’MAN: "Hmm?"

W’MAN: "Nothing. Would you like some tea whilst you’re doing that?"

E’MAN: "Good idea, Welshman, I’d love a cup of tea. Nothing better than tea to stimulate the old grey matter, what ho!"

Welshman pulls the bell-pull to call Butler. A strange humming noise begins and Butler beams in Star Trek-like.

W’MAN: "Two teas, please, Butler."

BUTLER: "Right away, sir."

Butler slides slowly out by the hall door backwards in a ghostly fashion. The door closes behind him without him touching it. Welshman stares, then shakes himself.

W’MAN: "So…what’s on the cards for today, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "Well, I’ve been invited to the inaugural baseball game of the new season. Terribly nice of them. Although I must admit, I’m not familiar with the rules of the game. I suppose I’ll just have to work it out when I get there; so it’s a good job that I’m a master of deduction."

SCENE: At the baseball ground. In front of a capacity crowd Englishman emerges from the tunnel waving along with a group of civic dignitaries and baseball officials. The bowler stands ready on the mound; Englishman on the plate. The referee hands him the bat.

E’MAN: "Hmm…from my knowledge of American Football and ice hockey, it’s fair to say that Americans love their contact sport – and there’s no reason to assume that this sport will be any different. Therefore, I must have to use this bat as I attempt to acquire the ball. And I suppose the people on the bases are the equivalent of blockers in American Football – so I must have to take them out first. Hmm…the concept seems simple enough."

The pitcher winds up to toss, but stops when Englishman strides purposefully towards first base. Englishman begins attacking the catcher. The crowd boos.

E’MAN: "Oh, I do so admire the patriotism of Americans! Just because an Englishman is excelling at their little game, the entire crowd is getting behind the home team."

The other fielders run over to help and Englishman beats them all back. Finally he picks up the ball from where it has fallen next to the pile of battered and dazed baseball players. He places the ball on the home run plate and waves to the crowd who continue booing angrily and have started throwing missiles onto the pitch., then he walks back to the tunnel past the shocked assembly of officials as he waves jovially to the crowd.

Welshman meets him at the mouth of the tunnel.

E’MAN: "Exhilarating, Welshman! We must do this again! Perhaps we could invite some underprivileged children from the local neighbourhood."

W’MAN: "Er…maybe we’d better not, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Eh? Oh, maybe you’re right. After all, we are very busy fighting crime and such."

And they walk off down the tunnel.

SCENE: At the Englishmansion. Englishman is putting on his coat.

W’MAN: "Off out, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "I’ve had a tip off about a possible mob meeting so I’m going to check it out."

W’MAN: "Should I come?"

E’MAN: "No, no, I’ll be fine. You just man the fort,"

W’MAN: "Right you are, Englishman."

SCENE: Night. A street bathed in the yellow glow of street lamps – one of which Englishman is leaning against as he looks up towards the first floor window of a house. Silhouettes move back and forth.

E’MAN: "Hmm…let’s see if it might be worth learning Polish like Welshman is doing." He addresses the lamp post next to him, "I say, pole, I’m going to have to raid that apartment up there, but I don’t have any back up. So what say you back me up? Just pay attention and if things get dicey then help me out. Got that? Hmm…man of few words – I like that in a partner. Not always shooting your mouth off like that Welshman. Good – I’m going in."

Englishman enters and goes upstairs. He kicks open the door – a man over by the window draws a gun. At that moment, on the street below, a car crashes into the lamppost, the pole falls over, crashing through the window and knocking out the gunman. Englishman walks over and rests a foot on the unconscious man and a hand on the pole:

E’MAN: "Good work, pole. Huh! Welshman was wrong – there’s no need to speak Polish – they seem to understand English perfectly well. Language of the poles, indeed!" He begins inspecting the contents of the room and finds some papers, "Hmm, what have we here?….Uh huh, uh huh…Interesting…Very interesting indeed. I see." Camera pans out slightly. Englishman puts down the encyclopaedia that we can now see and carries on searching the room. He opens a desk draw, "Aha!"

SCENE: Back at the Englishmansion. Englishman bursts through the front door.

E’MAN: "Welshman! Welshman!" Welshman hurries out.

W’MAN: "Yes, Englishman? What is it?"

E’MAN: "We haven’t a moment to lose. Bring the Bentmobile round to the front."

W’MAN: "What is it?"

E’MAN: "It’s a large, luxury, hand-crafted British car – but that’s not important right now. Just fetch it!"

W’MAN: "No, I meant, what’s the mission?"

E’MAN: "No time! I’ll explain on the way." Welshman starts off but then stops.

W’MAN: "Oh, I just remembered, the Bentley’s in the shop so they’ve given us a courtesy car,"

E’MAN: "Very well, very well, just fetch it!"

SCENE: Driving along in the replacement car.

E’MAN: "Nice straight roads they have here in America. We haven’t had to make one turn the whole way here."

W’MAN: "Now that we’re getting close, will you please tell me what’s going on?"

E’MAN: "All right; my earlier stake out paid off. A scrap of paper held the location of a big meeting of all the top mob bosses, downtown in the warehouse district – in fact, here we are…And there they are!"

Along the road ahead of them is a row of stretched limos.

At one of the mob cars (a scene echoed at the other cars):

HENCHMAN: Wait here, boss. We’ll go in and check it out to make sure it’s safe. C’mon, Fingers."

FINGERS: "Right, coming."

The senior henchmen head inside the meeting place.

Englishman and Welshman continue approaching the mob bosses at speed.

W’MAN: "Er…Englishman…"

E’MAN: "Yes?"

W’MAN: "Hadn’t we better slow down?"

E’MAN: "Actually, I’ve had my foot pressed flat on the brake pedal for the last three miles, but when one’s car weighs sixteen tons it seems that brakes aren’t enough to interrupt the momentum. I don’t suppose this model has an on board parachute?"

W’MAN: "Sorry, Englishman – only the Emperor model comes with a rear parachute. This is the lowly Executive model."

E’MAN: "Never mind. I’ll just steer around them."

W’MAN: "Well?"

E’MAN: "Damn – I forgot. This is an American car…there is no steering. Brace yourself, Welshman. Still, at least there’s one redeeming feature."

W’MAN: "What’s that, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "In the event of an impact nothing is going to stand in the way of this thing." He pats the dashboard.

Cut to exterior shot as the car ploughs into the back of one limo, then the next, then the next – squashing each one into a compacted block of scrap metal.

E’MAN: "Jump, Welshman!"

They bail out as the car continues down the road and off the end of a jetty into the sea – taking with it the mob bosses trapped in their cars.

Englishman and Welshman rejoin each other at the jetty’s edge and peer down into the water.

E’MAN: "Ha ha ha, gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘gone to a watery grave’. Ha ha ha!"

W’MAN: "In what way is that a new meaning?"

E’MAN: "Shut up, Welshman."

The mob henchmen run up out of breath behind Englishman and Welshman.

HENCHMAN #1: "You…you killed all the heads of the New York families!"

E’MAN: "Yes…I suppose I did. Bravo, me!"

HENCHMAN #1: "But…now we’re all out of a job." General murmuring of agreement. "And I’ve got a family to feed!" Louder murmuring of agreement.

HENCHMAN #2: "Wait a minute, not so fast." Everyone turns to look at the new speaker who has produced a small booklet from his jacket pocket, "According to the Mafia Charter, ‘In the event that the heads of all the families are killed at one time, then whosoever killed them shall become supreme Mafia boss of New York’."

The mobsters all turn to Englishman.

E’MAN: "I say, I’m touched by your little rule, but I couldn’t possibly accept,"

W’MAN: "Er, Englishman, if I could have a word?" The two turn their backs and whisper to each other, "Englishman, this could be the perfect opportunity to do away with the Mafia once and for all. You could make all their businesses legitimate and save them all from a life of crime."

E’MAN: "You’re right, Welshman. And even more importantly, I’ll undoubtedly make lots of money!" He turns and addresses the assembled Mafiosi, "Gentlemen – I’ll do it!"

SCENE: Upbeat jazz music plays. Montage of shots of assorted mob enterprises – alcohol/drug/arms smuggling, bribing police officers, running protection rackets, gambling dens, etc.

SCENE: In the living room of the Englishmansion, piles of money are strewn all about. Englishman and Welshman are sat in their respective armchairs reading their newspapers – Englishman’s: The Daily Limey, Welshman ’s: The National USA Enquirer Today – the headline reads "Exclusive investigation reveals no corruption in politics" and a smaller story "Shock as it is discovered that Great Britain is not an island but is in fact a sleeping whale".

Suddenly the quiet scene is disturbed by the crashing sound of breaking glass. A grenade lands on the floor and rolls across the carpet to Englishman’s feet. He picks it up.

E’MAN: "Ooh, a circa 2003 ExploCo grenade, I don’t have one of these."

Englishman walks over to a glass fronted cabinet, opens the door and adds the grenade to his collection.

E’MAN: "Just four more and I shall have a complete set of every kind of grenade ever created. I shall have to infuriate more criminals in the hope they throw them in my window, just like all these others."

W’MAN: "I don’t know how you can be so blasé about a grenade being thrown into the house, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Welshman – it’s like the old saying goes: grenades don’t hurt people – people hurt people. And crocodiles…poisonous tree frogs…sharks, of course…splinters – now they really hurt…car crashes… " Englishman’s list continues but the volume is faded out.

W’MAN: "Yes, but I don’t think that means that grenades aren’t lethal if they explode when someone’s near them."

E’MAN: "...nuclear penguins, high fat crisps. Huh? Of course that’s what it means. What else would it mean, Welshman? I wonder about you sometimes, I really do."

W’MAN: "About this grenade, Englishman, what do you think it means?"

E’MAN: "It’s probably just a welcome grenade from some of the Mafia boys. Either that or one of the rival gangs – maybe the Russians, or the Yardies, or the Yakuza. It doesn’t really matter. What really matters is that I’m thirsty. Let’s have some tea."

Englishman tugs on the "bell pull" – but nothing happens. Welshman meanwhile has gone white as a sheet and is staring horrified at Englishman, who continues tugging violently at the "bell pull".

W’MAN: "Englishman," he whispers in a hoarse voice,

E’MAN: "Hmm? What is wrong with this bell pull?"

W’MAN: "You know those poisonous English snakes you brought back?"

E’MAN: "Yes? What about them?"

W’MAN: "You say they’re very poisonous?"

E’MAN: "Oh, extremely. Their venom is highly toxic – one teaspoon would be enough to kill a blue whale for instance…although the whale should be safe, if only because he never uses cutlery. But we needn’t worry, because in collecting the specimen English snakes we observed that they’re incredibly docile – as long as one handles them gently using slow movements. The one thing that you absolutely mustn’t do is just to yank one about with gay abandon. You were saying?"

The "bell pull" hisses angrily.

E’MAN: "Funny…I thought it rang a bell…sounds more like some kind of air leak."

and the snake bites Englishman on the hand.

E’MAN: "Ho ho ho! Cheeky little blighter!" Englishman tugs the snake down from its hold on the chandelier and tosses it casually to Welshman – who screams loudly as the snake flies at him and then clamps its teeth into his nose.

E’MAN: "Stop playing with Snakey, Welshman. Go put him in the zoo with the English chameleon."

Fade out.

Fade back in.

SCENE: Englishmansion living room. Next day. Welshman has a bandage over his nose and is talking nasally.

W’MAN: "Shouldn’t you have sought medical attention for that snake bite, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "No, don’t be silly. It’s purely a case of mind over matter. Why? What happened to you?"

W’MAN: "Well, after spending the night in intensive care and having all my blood replaced by multiple transfusions, I’m okay."

E’MAN: "Pft! You do make a meal out of things, Welshman. Was any of that really necessary? When he bit you he’d already injected all his venom into me – but my body was able to cope and I suffered no ill effects except for some slight dizziness. Though that may just be the long term effects of lead poisoning from all the bullets still inside me."

W’MAN: "I do keep saying that you should have a doctor remove them."

E’MAN: "As if a busy man like me has time for trivial thing like having bullets removed. No, it would be as much a waste of the doctor’s time as it would be mine."

W’MAN: "If you say so, Englishman,"

E’MAN: "Well I do, so that settles it. Now let’s have some tea." He pulls the bell pull to call Butler…who doesn’t appear immediately, "Funny – I wonder where he is." Camera cuts to Butler, who is parachuting down from the sky towards the roof of the Englishmansion. To be precise, towards the target painted on the helicopter landing pad. "He’s been getting awfully sloppy recently, don’t you think?"

W’MAN: "Uh huh."

E’MAN: "Oh, yes, I thought about moving the house whilst you were away,"

W’MAN: "Really?"

E’MAN: "Yes, about twenty feet to the left – what do you think?"

W’MAN: "Yes, all right," Welshman walks over to the fireplace – where a row of voice pipes (as aboard a ship) stick up from the floor, "Engine room?"

VOICE: "Aye, sir?"

W’MAN: "Start the engines."

VOICE: "Aye, aye, sir."

W’MAN: "Bridge?"

VOICE: "Aye, sir?"

W’MAN: "Set a heading 150, minimum speed."

VOICE: "Aye, aye, sir. Heading 150, slow."

Exterior shot shows the Englishmansion move slowly to the left. Cut to Butler, who adjust his descent to match the new position of the house.

E’MAN: "Hmm…no, I don’t like it. Move us back, Mister Welshman."

W’MAN: "Yes, Englishman. Bridge?"

VOICE: "Yes, sir?"

W’MAN: "Reverse course."

VOICE: "Aye, aye, sir. Reversing course."

The house moves back. Butler desperately tries to correct his course but ends up going straight down the main chimney – his cry echoing out.

Meanwhile, back in the living room.

W’MAN: "What was that?"

E’MAN: "Probably just the ghost owls. This place is full of them."

Welshman looks puzzled.

E’MAN: "But that still doesn’t explain where Butler’s got to. That man!"

A small soot fall in the fireplace is followed closely by the appearance of a sooty pair of legs. Welshman tugs them and Butler appears, covered in soot, sitting on the firegrate.

E’MAN: "Two teas, please, Butler, and make it snappy, we haven’t got all day."

BUTLER half choking on the soot, gags out: "Yes, sir."

Just then, the phone rings.

E’MAN: "Englishman speaking? Yes. Yes. All right, we’ll come right away."

W’MAN: "What is it, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "We’ve been called before the network executives. They feel that the show has lost its way with bad jokes, crackpot story lines and the lack of even one episode having a real conclusion. It’s bad, Welshman, they’re thinking of dropping us from our primetime 4am slot and moving us to the 8pm graveyard slot."

W’MAN: "No!"

E’MAN: "I’m afraid so. I’m going to meet them now – are you coming?"

W’MAN: "Yes, I’ll just get my coat,"

E’MAN: "BUTLER!" Butler reappears. "Make those teas to go,"

BUTLER: "Yes, sir."

SCENE: Outside a meeting room sit Englishman and an anxious Welshman. The door is slightly ajar. The camera follows the sound of someone’s voice into the room, where a man is pitching an idea to the network executives.

MAN: "Okay, okay…so you don’t like ‘When Icebergs Attack’, or ‘World’s Wildest Haircuts’, or even ‘World’s Squashingest Grand Piano Drops from Cranes Above the Street’, but what about this, okay…‘The YMCA-Team’?"

EXEC #1: "We’re listening."

MAN: "Okay, okay – so there’s these five guys, and they go around in a big pink van helping people, anyway, watch this:" He pushes the play button on a VCR and the intro to the YMCA-Team rolls to the words:

VOICEOVER: "In 1980 a cop, a biker, an army guy, an Indian and a construction worker were imprisoned for various crimes that they didn’t commit. For some reason, the four civilians were imprisoned in the same military stockade as the army guy. During the confusion caused by someone else’s break out from the nearby maximum-security stockade, they walked out of their minimum-security facility, escaping to the Los Angeles underground. Now they work as singers of fortune. If you have a problem, or are a young man confused about his sexuality, or maybe you just need a group to sing at your wedding reception, maybe you can hire – the YMCA-Team…" First few beats of the A-Team theme plays, but morphs into YMCA.

INDIAN: "No, I’m Face because I’m the good looking one!"

CONSTRUCTION WORKER: "Be serious! I’m Face!"

COP: "Hey, I’m the one all the ladies dig, I’m Face!" Argument descends into a mass of voices. The man presses the stop button.

MAN: "So, whadda you think?" The execs turn and look at one another. They nod.

EXEC #1: "It has a lot of promise. We’ll commission twelve series!"

MAN: "YES! Oh, thank you! You won’t regret this!" He collects up his papers and things in a big mess and staggers out.

EXEC #2: "Who’s next?"

SECRETARY: "A Mr Englishman and a Mr Welshman, sir."

EXEC #2: "Send them in."

SECRETARY: "NEXT!"

Englishman and Welshman walk in.

EXEC #1: "Gentlemen, I think you know why you’re here." Silence, "The show just hasn’t been cutting it recently." The exec turns and points at a pie chart, "This gives a break down of our demographics and, guys, you just don’t go down at all well with our target audience of twenty-something, pot smoking, music loving surf bums."

E’MAN: "With all due respect, maybe you’re targeting the wrong audience. I see from that graph that we play very well to young, educated middle class white people who hate the world and want to kill everyone in it."

EXEC: "It’s always the audience’s fault with you actors. No – sorry, guys. Either you pull in the right people or we’ll have no choice but to axe the show. Here’s a list of suggestions on how to change things." He hands them some papers.

SCENE: Back at the Englishmansion.

E’MAN: "Listen to this, Welshman: film at the beach more. But we’re not a beach show! Have Englishman go surfing more. No, no, no! They haven’t grasped the Englishman concept at all! He’s supposed to be refined, he’s supposed to be dull – he’s supposed to be English! Surfing indeed! Oh, you’ll love this one Welshman: replace, quote, ‘Welshguy’ with hot bikini chick. Hmm, you know, that might work…"

W’MAN: "Englishman!"

E’MAN: "Oh, you’re right. I just don’t know what to do. Somehow we have to boost the ratings for this week’s episode or face the axe. Think, Englishman, think…"

Time passing – Englishman paces up and down in front of the fireplace as occasional close ups of the clock show us how much time has elapsed.

E’MAN: "Aha!" Welshman looks expectantly towards Englishman, "No."

More time passes. Finally Englishman has worn a knee-high trench into the floor.

E’MAN: "I have it!" He climbs out of the trench, "We’ll use my Mafia influence to get those viewers!"

W’MAN: "Brilliant!" Pause. "How?"

E’MAN: "You just leave that to me,"

SCENE: Mafia goons round people up on the street at gunpoint and tell them to watch Englishman or they’ll be back.

SCENE: At the main TV studios.

SECRETARY: "Here are this week’s figures for Englishman, sir."

EXEC #1: "Ah good, I’ve been looking forward to cancelling that stuck up limey for a while…wait! What? Are you sure these are the right figures?"

SECRETARY: "Yes, sir."

EXEC #1: "But, but…seven million? It’s as if almost the entire population of New York tuned in. Well, it’s the wrong kind of people – but there are so many of them my boss will never let me cancel the show now. Curses! Give Englishman the call – tell him his show has been reprieved."

SCENE: At the Englishmansion.

E’MAN: "Uh huh, I see, well, thank you for the good news. Yes. Goodbye." He puts the phone down. "Welshman, break open a new box of tea – the show has been saved!" Englishman pulls the bell pull to call Butler to deliver tea.

W’MAN: "Woohoo!"

E’MAN: "Calm down, Welshman. There’s no need to go mad. Well, that just leaves one more thing – we’ve found the snakes and the chameleon all that’s left is that elusive English whale."

The sound of whale song, the camera focuses in over Englishman’s shoulder on Butler who has entered the room. Butler looks up towards the sound of whale song. There’s a very loud cracking noise, a crash and the sound of crystal shards tinkling everywhere as the chandelier gives way under the whale’s weight and comes down on top of Butler.

E’MAN: "Where is that Butler of mine?" He turns round, "And when did I get that whale skin rug – it’s hideous." The English whale lets out a mournful note of sadness at Englishman’s remark. "Bless you, Welshman."

W'MAN: "Huh?"

ROLL CREDITS

SCENE: A scary old ghost town. Englishman, the local sheriff, an old man and the Rooby gang.

ENGLISHMAN: "Thanks, Old Man Pickles. I’d never have been able to catch this gang of young hoodlums without your help." Englishman turns away. Old Man Pickles cackles evilly and rubs his hands. The Rooby gang protest their innocence:

RED: "But we’ve been framed! It was Old Man Pickles."

ROOBY ROO: "Rikes, Raggy! Ri can’t gro to rison! Ri’m too roung and retty!"

SHERIFF: "Yup, it’s off to the state pen for you guys. Three square meals a day." Rooby and Raggy look at one another,

ROOBY/RAGGY: "Ree scrare mreals/Three square meals?" and they jump into the back of the police car and slam the doors shut behind them.

INTRO SEQUENCE PLAYS.

SCENE: At the Englishmansion. The kitchen. Englishman and Welshman converse over breakfast.

WELSHMAN: "Englishman, I’ve been over your finances a dozen times and you are seriously in the red. You really need to cut back,"

E’MAN: "Nonsense, everyone has six mortgages! Average debt in the UK is £1 trillion."

W’MAN: "No, that’s total debt in the UK."

E’MAN: "Really? Well, I could afford to cut back on some things, I suppose. Let’s check the weekly shopping list." Welshman looks through the array of papers in front of him and pulls a wad out. He draws his finger down the list.

W’MAN: "Well how about this: do you really need three tons of strawberries, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "Yes, for the pheasants. If you don’t feed them solely on strawberries they end up tasting like millipedes and worms!"

W’MAN: "But you haven’t eaten those pheasants since all their feathers fell out and their skin began to turn red from all the strawberries!"

E’MAN: "Oh, yes, I remember. Well, we can cut back on that. Just a ton of strawberries, then."

W’MAN: "And…wedding rings? Why are you buying all these wedding rings?"

E’MAN: "I have the diamonds extracted and ground down for sprinkling on my Cornflakes for breakfast. Nothing tastes quite like diamonds!" Welshman sprinkles some onto a side plate, dips in his finger and tentatively tastes it.

W’MAN: "They taste exactly like sugar!"

Cut to

SCENE: Butler, with his back to Englishman who is totally immersed in his newspaper at the breakfast table, is emptying tin marked "Diamonds" into a sack marked "Swag", then refilling the tin with sugar.

SCENE: Back to the present and Englishman & Welshman.

W’MAN: "Still, that explains the weekly grindstone order. But what happens to the rings?"

E’MAN: "Well I certainly don’t eat them. I don’t like the taste."

W’MAN: "Yes, alright, but what does happen to them?"

E’MAN: "I put them out for recycling, along with all the other household gold."

Cut to

SCENE: We see the A-Team van, but made of gold (with ‘Recycling’ emblazoned on the sides), being driven along by Mr. T, covered in jewellery. He stops in front of the Englishmansion and gets out. He empties the recycling box into the back of the van and puts in back on the ground. Then drives off. Driving along a road…

PASSER-BY: "Hey, Mr T, I used to love the A-Team, why don’t you guys have some kind of reunion show or something?"

Mr T: "Hey, fool! Ain’t no money in acting! You think I can afford all this jewellery on some actor’s salary? I made all my money in recycling, sucker! Now leave me alone, I got to deliver this gold for recycling."

Mr T drives off.

SCENE: Fort Knox, where a General on a walkway overlooking an almost empty room containing one gold bar is looking worried.

GENERAL: "I hope Mr T gets another shipment in soon. The federal gold reserve is running awfully low."

COLONEL DECKER: "Did you say ‘Sgt. Bosco ‘B.A.’ Baracus?"

GENERAL: "No. No, I didn’t."

COLONEL DECKER: "Hm – anyway, this man: skinny white guy, hates gold?"

GENERAL: "No, just the opposite."

DECKER: "General, that man’s a criminal! I’ve been after him and his A-Team since Vietnam!"

Cut to

SCENE: In a barn where the A-Team are souping up the gold recycling van. A-Team theme plays. Usual welding, extra armour, etc. Music fades out. Hannibal takes a step backwards and removes the cigar from his mouth.

HANNIBAL: "I love it when a van comes together!"

SCENE: Interior of the A-Team van.

HANNIBAL: "All right, everybody get ready, we’re almost there."

Cut to: the gates of Fort Knox, where guards emerge from their sentry posts at the sound of the approaching van. They begin firing when they realise it’s not going to slow down. The van smashes through the gate, and the soldiers fling themselves out of the way. They then get back up and shoot, or fire from their lying positions, at the back of the van. Two jeeps shoot through the smashed gateway, following the van.

Cut to: Inside a huge stadium, where a daredevil is waving to a cheering crowd from the top of a ramp. He drives to the foot of the ramp and, as he revs his bike, the A-Team van shoots past on the ground. The rider removes lifts his visor and his eyes follow the van in surprise – next a pursuing jeep passes him, driving up and off the ramp. The daredevil waves his fist angrily. It flies through the air, lands, flips, rolls over and over and finally comes to a mangled rest upside down. Two unscathed military policemen crawl out from underneath it. The stadium spotlight illuminates them and the crowd goes wild.

Cut to: A-Team van driving through a forest. Slow motion: close up of the wheels, followed by various shots from other angles as it jumps a shallow stream (little more than a trickle of water). Film speeds up again as it drives off. Then the jeep races up. The driver sees the brook, he swerves violently, the jeep skids and tips sideways into the brook. The soldiers climb out and begin firing pistols.

Cut back to: Fort Knox and the General and the Colonel. Sound of distant gunfire.

GENERAL: "Ah, that’ll be him now!" The A-Team van skids to a halt in front of the Federal Reserve. "Why not just fly the gold in, Mr T?"

Mr T: "I ain’t getting on no airplane, sucker!"

The sound of sirens gets louder, the A-Team dump a load of gold out of the back of the van and speed off.

GENERAL: "SAME TIME NEXT WEEK?"

Mr T, leaning out of the window: "Yes, sir, General fool!"

A-Team van shoots off into the distance, pursued by green military police cars.

SCENE: Back in the kitchen of the Englishmansion. Englishman and Welshman. Caption: ‘Six hours later…’

W’MAN: "Well what about these 400 pairs of shoes for your ancestral battalion, which was disbanded in the seventeenth century?"

E’MAN: "I think we covered them in Appendix F, Section 32…and stop badmouthing the army!"

W’MAN: "What Army?!"

E’MAN: "My English Army, as legally distinct from the British Army."

W’MAN sighs: "Moving on . . ."

E’MAN: "What more do you expect of me Welshman? I’m doing everything I can. For instance, my heating costs – already high – will only get higher still this winter when demand increases, so I’ve formulated a plan!" PAUSE

W’MAN: "Well, Englishman? Usually nothing comes of your plans if you don’t share them with me, because it’s always falls to me actually to carry them out."

E’MAN: "Well this isn’t one of those occasions – in fact, I’ve already enacted my plan. Nevertheless, I will share it with you. Those parts of the Englishmansion that we don’t use on a daily basis I’ve decided to put to good use and I’m now storing petrol and natural gas in them."

Welshman’s eyes go wide.

W’MAN: "But isn’t that incredibly-credibly dangerous?"

E’MAN: "Not when you look at things in perspective. It’s no more dangerous than living in any major metropolitan area; it’s significantly less dangerous than being a kamikaze pilot; and it’s only twice as dangerous as battling evil-masterminds week-in, week-out."

W’MAN: "I suppose…but you did get permission from the relevant authorities before you started didn’t you?"

E’MAN: "This is America – a free country. If I’m not free to fill a 50-bedroom country mansion located in central Manhattan with petrol, then I might as well be in some socialist hellhole like Russia, or China – or worse – Britain! Now how about some lunch?"

W’MAN: "I still don’t think that that’s going to be enough Englishman. I’m really not sure that you’ve fully grasped the magnitude of this problem,"

E’MAN: "All right, all right, I’ve been approached by someone about renting out the Englishmansion and I’ve said yes. In the meantime, what say we have a look round and see if there’s anything that we can sell."

W’MAN: "What about in the gallery – do you really need all those pictures of your famous ancestors?"

E’MAN: "Well, let’s go and find out."

SCENE: In the gallery. The walls adorned with familiar looking faces – each one bearing a strong resemblance to Englishman. Portraits of every style through history show men, some with their families, others performing great exploits.

W’MAN: "What about this one, Englishman?" Welshman looks up at a picture.

E’MAN: "Oh, no, Welshman. This one depicts Sir Archibald Englishman…"

FADE OUT

FADE IN

SCENE: At the Boston Tea Party: Sir Archibald Englishman is sat at an outdoor table drinking tea with his sidekick. He witnesses a group of Indians going aboard a ship and remarks:

SIR A ENGLISHMAN: "What are those Chinese doing?"

SIDEKICK: "Er, I think they’re disguised as Indians,"

SA E’MAN: "Yes…disguised. Very devious the Chinese,"

SIDEKICK: "Erm…"

SA E’MAN: "Wait, what are they doing?!" And the rebels start throwing the tea into the harbour. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"

Englishman races over and starts firing (one shot at a time from his single shot pistol).

SIDEKICK: "No, Englishman!" He restrains his master from shooting any more of the rebels.

SA E’MAN looking very angry: "That’s it. Send a message to the King. We are to declare war on the Chinese at once."

SIDEKICK: "But, Englishman, they weren’t Chinese,"

SA E’MAN: "No ‘buts’ – and none of your usual appeasenik nonsense!"

SIDEKICK: "‘Appeasenik’? What does that even mean?"

SA E’MAN very confused: "I ... don’t …know."

SCENE FADES OUT.

SCENE: Back in the gallery.

W’MAN: "I see. Were all your ancestors this famous?"

E’MAN: "That’s right. Take Admiral Lord Horatio Englishblower, for instance."

FADE OUT

FADE IN

SCENE: Admiral looking through telescope on deck of old wooden warship.

CREWMEMBER: "Look out! Reef ahead!"

ADMIRAL ENGLISHBLOWER: "I see no jagged rocks!"

LIEUTENANT: "Admiral, that’s your bad eye."

E’BLOWER: "Who said that?" He swings around, knocking the lieutenant into the helmsmen. The ship veers hard to starboard, throwing the admiral off his feet and overboard into the sea. The officers look at each other and the admiral, floating in the sea.

MIDSHIPMAN: "Orders, sir? Shall we pick him up?"

LIEUTENANT: "No. Let’s get out of here forthwith."

MIDSHIPMAN: "Aye, aye, sir."

Camera cuts to Admiral, pulling himself onto the jagged rocks. The admiral shakes his fist.

E’BLOWER: "Damn your eye, Nelson! It’ll be floggings all round if ever I catch up with you, you upstart!"

FADE OUT

FADE IN

SCENE: The gallery.

E’MAN: "And that’s why all Englishmen love sitting on rocks in the middle of the ocean."

W’MAN: "Huh? Sorry, I completely tuned out, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Good idea, Welshman! I’d love some crumpets."

W’MAN: "What – right now?"

E’MAN: "No time for that now, Welshman! I was telling you about my family history." The two of them stroll along the pictures, stopping along the way as Englishman recounts each story: "Great-granddad Englishman was the only one who had any matches to hand when the British burnt down the White House…And this Englishman accidentally killed all the ravens at the Tower of London – thus leading to the fall of the Empire…then we have the English Pimpernel, English Hood of Sherwood Forest…ah, here’s an interesting one: one of my uncles was co-founder of the modern Olympics – he won all the shooting and archery medals after the other competitors mysteriously died during the competition of various gunshot and arrow wounds."

They walk past a portrait depicting an old sea dog with a strange beard that seems to follow the pattern of the Union Flag. The inscription on the small brass plague reads, "English Beard, Privateer by appointment to HM the King".

E’MAN: "And here we have Sir Walter Englishman, whose weather machine defeated the Spanish Armada by conjuring up a deadly storm so that the navy didn’t have to fight them. Then we have the section dedicated to Englishmen abroad – Englishman of Arabia; Englishman of India; and Englishman of the Antarctic."

W’MAN: "What about this picture of the Titanic, Englishman? Maybe we could sell that."

E’MAN: "But that’s a priceless piece of Titanic memorabilia, Welshman. My ancestor Earl Englishman recovered that floating in the Atlantic when the ship went down."

W’MAN: "You mean, he survived the sinking of the Titanic?"

E’MAN: "Yes, I’d say that was an accurate way of putting it."

FADE OUT

FADE IN

SCENE: Inside a submarine, Englishman’s ancestor and a few other crew. Suddenly there’s an almighty CLANG!

E’MAN: "Open the hatch. I’d better investigate,"

Exterior view of what looks like an iceberg – Englishman emerges from the hatch, followed by a crewmember. The Titanic is sinking.

CREWMAN: "Shouldn’t we help those people?"

E’MAN: "What – and reveal the fact that we’ve secretly been monitoring American communications by tapping into the transatlantic telegraph wire? Have you any idea what kind of diplomatic incident that would create? Besides, I’m sure there are plenty of lifejackets and lifeboats – they’ll be fine."

CREWMAN: "If you say so, Englishman,"

E’MAN: "Well, I do. Now let’s get out of here; full steam ahead!"

FADE OUT

FADE IN

SCENE: The gallery.

E’MAN: "Now here’s one for the record books. My famous politician ancestor who wasn’t hounded out of office because of a sex scandal."

W’MAN: "So he served a full-term, did he?"

E’MAN: "No, he was hounded out of office because of an arms scandal and because of his sympathies towards Soviet Russia."

W’MAN: "Right…As nice as all this is, Englishman, you haven’t agreed to sell even one picture."

E’MAN: "But, Welshman, I can’t sell any of these pictures – just take this ancestor, of who I am particularly proud. Now he started the Irish potato blight – accidentally of course, but then most of the great achievements usually are."

FADE OUT

FADE IN

SCENE: The huge kitchen of a grand old country mansion house. A man who looks exactly like Englishman, except with mutton chop whiskers, and his butler.

E’MAN: "…suffice to say, I’m very disappointed in you, butler,"

BUTLER Irish accent: "I’m very sorry, sir,"

E’MAN: "Well, sorry’s not good enough. I’ve already had to sack the maid for getting pregnant. I don’t think you spared even one moment to think about the problems it would create for me, you were just consumed by lust. Twenty-five years service down the drain. Here, take this potato as severance pay and never darken my door again,"

Englishman hands over a mouldy potato, which is sprouting tubers, and leaves. Butler picks up his coat, pulling it on as he steps through the door. He looks up as a boom of thunder rolls out and the heavens open. He puts on a bright green bowler hat and pulls up his coat collar to keep out the rain and walks off carrying a small suitcase.

Shot of butler sat waiting for a train. Shot of butler on board a boat as it crosses the sea to Ireland.

FADE OUT

FADE IN

SCENE: Mutton chop Englishman is reading the paper – front page reads "POTATO BLIGHT IN IRELAND."

Sound of doorbell interrupts the scene.

SCENE: Cut back to present day.

W’MAN: "But millions of people died! Don’t you feel any guilt?"

E’MAN: "Ah, come on now, they were only Irish. Hm, I’d better get the door,"

SCENE: Exterior of front door. Englishman opens it. Switch view to looking over Englishman’s shoulder. In the background: on the lawn is a big crowd of armed and angry Irish, being held back by British soldiers. In the foreground: on the doorstep is a red-headed Irish NY cop – who hits Englishman over the head with his old fashioned truncheon.

E’MAN: "Ow! Stop that!"

IRISH COP: "Apologise for all the people your family killed,"

E’MAN: "I’ll do no such thing. Officer!"

BRITISH ARMY OFFICER: "Yes, sir?"

E’MAN: "Get rid of these people."

BRIT ARMY OFF: "Yes, sir!" Englishman closes the door. We switch to an exterior view. "Now, men, gently as you can, try and move these nice people away from Mr Englishman’s house. But whatever you do – don’t antagonise them – and for Pete’s sake don’t use your weapons."

BANG! RAT-A-TAT-TAT!

BRIT ARMY OFF: "I said don’t fire! Who’s shooting?"

PRIVATE #1: "It’s coming from the roof, sir!"

PRIVATE #2: "IRA sniper on the roof!"

People in the crowd begin to drop left, right and centre. Shouts and screams. People in the crowd turn and run across the lawn. Suddenly: BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Englishman reappears at his front door to investigate the noise.

E’MAN: "Oh no! My precious collection of antique mines! So that’s where the dog buried them!"

A remote controlled mine clearing robot rolls past, stops, and begins digging a hole. Cut to shot inside house where an Alsatian dog is operating the robot using a console displaying a live video feed of the robot’s point of view.

Welshman stares aghast.

A bloodied limb clad in singed and tattered clothing fall out of the sky and lands at Englishman’s feet – a large Alsatian slips around the front door behind Englishman & Welshman and begins gnawing on the limb.

E’MAN: "Bad dog! Bad dog! No – no treat for you." Englishman takes away the limb. "You’ve destroyed my priceless collection of antique landmines – irreplaceable owing to that international treaty banning the use of landmines. A treaty you’re responsible for, Welshman."

W’MAN: "Me? Why me?"

E’MAN: "Princess Corpse – I mean Dead – I mean Di. She was the Princess of Wales, wasn’t she? But I put paid to her."

FLASHBACK>>

SCENE: A tunnel in Paris – night-time. Englishman is planting a mine on the road. A gendarme approaches him.

GENDARME: "Excuse me, sir, what do you think you are doing?"

E’MAN: "I’m here on the orders of the King." Englishman hands over a document – ‘By Order of his Britannic Majesty – King of Britain and France – I hereby confirm that Englishman is on a special mission to bump off the King of Harrods – Mohammed al-Biped.’

GENDARME: "Okay, everything appears to be in order – carry on."

A car approaches at speed.

E’MAN: "Get back! They’re coming."

END FLASHBACK >>

SCENE: Present day. Englishman closes the front door and he and Welshman start off across the hall.

E’MAN: "These money worries might not be as pressing as you think, Welshman." Englishman produces from his jacket pocket a script which he hands to Welshman. "My film about Irish terrorism could well turn into a blockbuster!" Welshman begins reading, mumbling out loud to begin with, then:

W’MAN: "You’re joking, right, Englishman? Listen to this section:"

SCENE: FADES INTO ENGLISHMAN’S SCREENPLAY. A darkened room. A group of amazingly ugly and badly scarred, hunchbacked and filthy men are gathered round a table.

TERRORIST #1: "Top o’ the mornin’, Paddy! However did you escape? I thought you got 20 years for child abuse. I know we all did."

Murmurs of agreement, cries of "Begorrah!"

TERRORIST #2: "I killed all the children before they could testify. Anyway, how are the preparations going for killing the hated British on Bloody Saturday?"

TERRORIST #3: "We thought we’d besmirch the Sabbath."

TERRORIST #2: "Okay, so – Bloody Sunday it is."

TERRORIST #4: "Begorrah!"

TERRORIST #2: "Are these the rifles? We’d better move them closer to the area."

TERRORIST #1: "We’ll use the coffins of the children you killed to move the arms."

TERRORIST #3: "What did we do with the bodies?"

TERRORIST #4: "We dumped them on unconsecrated ground so their souls went straight to Hell!"

TERRORIST #2: "Ah, good!"

TERRORIST #1: "And we’ve terrorised – because we’re terrorists, remember – some crippled children from the orphanage into bringing guns disguised as crutches. Also, some other children we’ve turned into human bombs."

TERRORIST #2: "I didn’t know we did that!"

TERRORIST #1: "We usually use street children nobody misses. They get vaporised! Let’s go!"

TERRORIST #2: "Mickey, where are you going with all that semtex?"

TERRORIST #4: "Uh, uh, I thought I’d go blow up the primary school."

TERRORIST #2: "Mickey! No! That’s next week – and a waste of semtex. We’re going to lock the doors and set the building on fire so they’re all burned to death inside."

TERRORIST #4: "Ah, so. Right you are."

FADE OUT

FRIEND OR FOE?

ENGLISH FACT: Irish people are easily identifiable because they all lack one or more fingers having spent much of their lives tinkering with home made explosive devices.

SCENE: Present day. Englishman and Welshman are back in the gallery.

W’MAN: "I mean, really! The characterisation is awful, they’re nothing but 2-D cardboard cut-outs! And who would make a film so biased about Ireland? No reputable director would touch this with a bargepole!"

E’MAN: "Well, I already have Ken Loach aboard."

W’MAN: "What?! The Ken Loach? Has he read the script?"

E’MAN: "No, but I gave him the gist over the phone. I told him it was a thoroughly accurate account of the massacre, stretching from the build-up, through the murder of the unarmed British soldiers –"

W’MAN: "What?"

E’MAN: "In the parade, by the terrorist paedophiles, to the inquiry by famous DJ Sir Jimmy Savile."

W’MAN: "That’s Lord Savile, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Never mind. We’ll catch it in the edit."

Welshman sighs.

W’MAN: "Hm…this picture looks rather recent for an ancestor, and the man in it looks nothing like the other paintings."

E’MAN: "Well I never! My word, I’d forgotten all about that picture. That, Welshman, is Davy Crockett, whom I paired up with when I was working for the vice squad down in Miami."

W’MAN: "You worked for the Miami vice squad?"

E’MAN: "Yes, I was on secondment from the British government; one of those co-operation building exercises. Now, Welshman, cast your mind back to the early-1980s and allow me to tell you the story of the biggest case I cracked whilst working as an undercover cop in Miami…"

SCENE: A hospital ward. A man who looks a lot like Dick van Dyke, wearing a white doctor’s coat, is walking along the ward checking the charts of the patients. We see him replace the chart of a patient called "Mr Holmes".

DICK VAN SLOAN: "Mr Holmes, if you’d just take off that heavy coat and deerstalker cap then you wouldn’t be suffering from heat exhaustion in the first place and you wouldn’t need to be in hospital."

HOLMES: "You’re entitled to your opinion, doctor, but I think I’ll wait for a second opinion – which I will get just as soon as my good friend Dr Watson arrives by ship from England."

VAN SLOAN: "All right, I can’t force you to do anything; but please reconsider."

Dick van Sloan moves on to the next patient. The man is in traction and covered head-to-toe in bandages and plaster casts. The chart gives the name "C. Adaver"

VAN SLOAN: "And how are we today, Mr Adaver? Doing okay?"

There’s no response from the man in the bed.

VAN SLOAN: "Very good. Now, the nurse will be along later to change your bandages, but if you need anything, just press the button. Good night now."

Van Sloan replaces the chart and walks out of the room – turning off the light on his way. His footsteps die away. The camera remains on the ward doors. New footsteps. The door opens, allowing in a shaft of light from the corridor which casts a long shadow across the floor. The person enters the room and makes his way along the row of beds, checking each chart – the camera only showing the intruder to waist height. Eventually the person arrives at the bed of Mr C Adaver. He walks up beside the bed and injects something into the IV drip. Then he leaves, quickly but quietly. The ward door clunks shut softly.

FADE OUT

SCENE: The next morning. A hotel room containing a man. There’s a knock at the door. He opens it – there stands a policeman.

COP: "Sir, is your name Mr Arrowsmith?"

ARROWSMITH: "Yes, why?"

COP: "Mr T Arrowsmith?"

ARROWSMITH: "Yes. What’s this about, officer?"

COP: "I’m afraid you’re going to have to come down to the station with us, sir, and answer a few questions about a Mr C Adaver, who was killed last night at the St Mary Poppins Memorial Hospital in Miami Beach."

ARROWSMITH: "Who – what – no – there must be some kind of mistake,"

COP: "You have the right to remain silent…"

FADE OUT

SCENE: A room. Nine people sit in chairs facing Englishman at the front of the room. One man sits in a wheelchair. Englishman is wearing a three-piece suit, but under his waistcoat is a T-shirt – to which he has affixed a detachable shirt collar. Davy Crockett looks like Don Johnson except for the fact that he seems to be wearing a coonskin cap on his head.

E’MAN: "Thank you all for coming."

JIM ROCKPONTIAC: "Er, just what are we all doing here?"

E’MAN: "If you wait a moment everything will be explained, then I’ll write you out a cheque for a week’s work in advance,"

ROCKPONTIAC: "My fee is $200 a day, plus expenses."

E’MAN: "I know, I hired you back in the seventies to look into something for me."

ROCKPONTIAC: "Oh, yeah, I remember. I ended up serving five years for armed robbery."

E’MAN: "Ah-ha-ha…water under the bridge, old man. Let’s just concentrate on this case now – especially since you’ve come all the way from Los Angeles. All right then, you’re all here because you, like me, are the world’s foremost experts at crime solving. In case any of you haven’t met before I’ll just give each of you a brief introduction. This is Ironduke – his real name is Wellington and he was crippled by a sniper’s bullet at Waterloo but went on to become Chief of the San Francisco Police Department, only for a second snipers bullet to leave him doubly crippled – hence the wheelchair."

He nods.

"We’ve already heard from Rockpontiac – he’s a private investigator from Los Angeles specialising in closed cases. You probably noticed his gold coloured 1977 Ford parked outside."

He smiles.

"Next we’ve got Smithunwesson – another PI, on holiday here from Hawaii, and he’s offered to help out. You probably noticed his car too – it was the Ferrari with the helicopter on the roof."

Nods and murmurs of remembrance.

"Sherlock Holmes, whom I’m sure you’ll all have heard of."

Impressed whispers. Holmes looks annoyed – then thoughtful – then annoyed.

"Davy Crockett is my partner on the Miami PD and this here is Joe Thursday, who thinks this case may be related to one he’s been working in LA." Englishman’s eyes fix on Crockett’s head, "Er, Crockett – I didn’t want to say anything, but I think an animal may have died on your head,"

CROCKETT: "Huh?" He runs his fingers through his hair, "This? No, this is just my normal lustrous ’80s hair cut."

E’MAN: "Well, if you’re sure . . ." Englishman’s eyes linger a little while, then he moves on, "Most of you will know this is Perry Mason – counsel for the accused. Next we have Japonica-y – head of the Miami coroner’s office and part-Japanese, half-brother of the more famous Quincy, the LA coroner – he’ll be conducting the post-mortem examination on the deceased. Next we have the reason we’re all here. Famous British authoress and sleuth…ess: Jessica Arrowsmith, now resident in Cobalt Cove, Maine. It’s her nephew who has been arrested on suspicion of murder and whom we have to prove innocent within the next forty-eight hours so that Perry here can get the case thrown out at the preliminary hearing with a spectacular confession from the real killer. Now I’m going to hand over to Dr van Sloan of the Mary Poppins Memorial Hospital, who was the last person to see the victim alive."

VAN SLOAN: "Ah, thank you, Englishman. Yes, I was the poor man’s doctor. We’ll know more after the autopsy, but we believe he was killed when a lethal substance was administered via his IV drip. The victim’s name was Mr C. Adaver and he was here in Miami on business…"

The last sentence is gradually faded out along with the picture.

SCENE: Englishman, Crockett, Det. Joe Thursday, Rockpontiac and Smithunwesson PI exit the hospital into the car park. The Knight Rider car pulls up.

HASSELHOFF: "Hey, guys, can I help?"

E’MAN: "No, we don’t need you."

CROCKETT: "Get lost, Hasselhoff."

HASSELHOFF: "But I’m really big in Germany!"

E’MAN: "Go home!"

HASSELHOFF muttering as he winds up the window: "Frazzen razzen Englishman." The Knight Rider car speeds off.

E’MAN: "All right, everybody knows what they’re doing – just remember to report into the police station every few hours."

Smithunwesson climbs into his helicopter and flies off, the Ferrari swinging about, suspended beneath it. Meanwhile, Rockpontiac drives off in his Ford – leaving the three cops in the parking lot.

E’MAN: "Okay guys, we’ll take my Ferrari." The three of them set off, but Englishman spots someone: "Look, it’s the infamous porn baron, Baron von Porn!"

Camera cuts to show a shifty looking man in a dark suit and sunglasses getting out of a big, black Lincoln and walking across the car park.

CROCKETT: "Not Baron von Porn of the Austro-Porngarian Empire?"

E’MAN: "The very same."

CROCKETT: "You think he’s mixed up in this, Englishman?"

E’MAN: "Is the King a Protestant?"

CROCKETT: "Who, Elvis?"

E’MAN: "No, you idiot – the monarch!"

CROCKETT: "Hmm, it’s probably just a coincidence,"

E’MAN: "There’s no such thing. If he’s here, then somehow he’s tied into this murder,"

They walk towards a two-seater Ferrari. Already in the driver’s seat in the chauffeur, who gets out and opens the passenger door. They stop by the car but don’t get in.

CROCKETT: "You sure we’re all going to fit?"

E’MAN: "Don’t worry; it’ll be fine."

Just then the dashboard radio crackles:

RADIO: "Calling all units, all units respond to a code 293 in progress at the docks, repeat, code 293 in progress at Miami docks,"

CROCKETT: "293? Damn unicycling transvestites, they’re at it again. When will they learn it isn’t ok to steal a hobo’s pants?"

E’MAN: "There’s a code for that? I thought a code 293 was a killer bee attack."

THURSDAY: "If you guys use the same system as we do in LA, then a 293 means some celebrity has just been caught with a hooker."

CHAUFFEUR: "Ahem – if I may be so bold, sirs, a 293 is a heist, if my memory serves correctly,"

ALL: "Ohhhhh!"

E’MAN: "Let’s roll!"

Englishman shucks a pump action shotgun (that has appeared in his hands) and gets in to the Ferrari with Crockett and the chauffeur.

MICHAEL MANN (Off screen): "No! CUT!"

A clapperboard guy steps into shot.

CLAPPERBOARD GUY: "Take 17, cut!" He steps back out of shot to the right. Michael Mann walks into shot from the left.

M MANN: "No, no, no! It’s just not believable! I don’t believe it. Okay, let’s do it again, from the top!" He backs out of shot.

CLAPPERBOARD GUY: "Englishman in Miami Weiss, scene 12, take 18,"

M MANN: "And ACTION!"

Englishman shucks the shotgun again.

M MANN: "CUT! Dammit! We’re going to stay here until we get this shot! I don’t care if we have to do it a hundred times – we are going to get that shot."

E’MAN: "This shot?" BANG! Englishman shoots Mann.

M MANN lying on the ground bleeding: "No! Not like that! Shoot me again! I didn’t believe it. You’re going to keep damn well shooting me till you get it right!"

E’MAN: "I still like him better than Lucas. Let’s go."

Shot of Ferrari pulling out of the parking lot into thick smog, reminiscent of Victorian London – on the street corner is Holmes puffing heartily on a pipe (creating most of the smog) – grubby urchins and cockney bootblacks share the sidewalk with ’80s breakdancers, pimps and pushers. Holmes waves down a horse drawn carriage and gets in. The carriage pulls back into traffic. A taxi sounds its horn and swerves into oncoming traffic to avoid the carriage, only to crash into another car instead. A pile up ensues.

SCENE: Crockett, Englishman and the chauffeur are squashed into the front seats of the Ferrari.

THURSDAY narrates: "It was four o’clock in Miami, but it was dark. So dark I couldn’t see." Crockett kicks the foot-well.

CROCKETT: "Hey, shut up in there! We can’t hear the engine!" Chauffeur guns the engine, which growls loudly as the acceleration forces the car’s occupants down into their seats.

SCENE: They reach the docks. The whole Miami PD is there. All of them are wearing expensive suits and designer sunglasses. Only their police hats identify them as cops. Englishman and Crockett step out, Thursday opens the bonnet and climbs out. They head over to the Chief, who’s stood next to the harbour master.

E’MAN: "Hey, Chief. What did they get away with?"

CHIEF: "Two containers full of designer suits and sunglasses that just got into port today,"

HARBOUR MASTER: "Two? I thought they only got one,"

CHIEF: "One…two…what’s it matter? Maybe we took the other one as evidence – okay, wise guy? Maybe you wanna go down for this theft?"

HARMOUR MASTER: "Woah!" He holds his hands up and backs away.

E’MAN: "Any leads?"

CHIEF: "No dice, Englishman."

E’MAN: "Okay, and what about the suits?"

CHIEF: "I meant the suits. We’re thinking inside job, the usual." A cop comes walking over.

COP #1: "Chief? We put the extra suits in your car like you said,"

CHIEF: "Yeh, yeh – thanks guys," hissing, "Not now! Anyway, as we were saying, it’s probably just a routine…" In the background a cop is inspecting one of the big cargo containers on the dockside. His shout interrupts the chief.

COP #2: "Sir! I think you might want to come take a look at this,"

Englishman, the chief, et al, head over and peer into the container.

Switch angles to show their view: the container is full of packets of white powder…cocaine.

CROCKETT: "Who is this container registered to?" The harbour master turned over a couple of pages on his clipboard, then runs his pen down the page.

HARBOUR MASTER: "Says here that it’s registered to a company by the name of SmuggleCo Inc."

E’MAN: "SmuggleCo Inc? Well, it doesn’t sound suspicious, but we’ll check it out back at the station."

SCENE: Down at the police station. Englishman and Thursday are sat in chairs on opposite sides of a desk. Crockett (whose hair no longer resembles a coonskin cap and instead now looks completely normal…for the ’80s) is perched on the corner of the desk. Also there is Holmes.

HOLMES: "I think I have a lead, but you might not like it, Englishman. A scheme so cunning could only have been thought up by a criminal mastermind of the most dastardly order. Of the two I know operating in London, one of them is behind bars – I know because I put him there myself – and the other one is Professor Moriarty."

E’MAN: "Dammit, Holmes! Would you stop badmouthing my friend and mentor? Professor Moriarty was certainly never involved in any kind of sordid goings on when he was teaching me ethics and criminology at the University of the Rich and Famous, Hollywood Campus. Besides, this is Miami – not London."

HOLMES: "I’m just saying that you should consider the possibility,"

E’MAN: "Dammit, Holmes, I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’re off the case!"

CROCKETT: "But, Englishman, we need him! We’ve still got all these other cases to do on top of the favour we’re doing for you friend. And you promised me ice cream!"

Crockett points to two open files on the desk. Englishman looks, "Sarcophagus stolen from Ancient Egypt exhibit at Miami Museum", "Tower of London stolen – possibly being shipped to America. All ports alert".

E’MAN: "Okay, okay. First we get the mummy – then we get the tower – then we get the cream in. Anyway, Thursday – have you turned anything up yet?"

THURSDAY: "As a matter of fact, I have. Guess who owns SmuggleCo Inc,"

E’MAN: "Ooh, ooh! Er…the Pope, er…Boris Yeltsin…er, Zombie Lenin,"

THURSDAY: "Um…maybe I should just tell you who owns it."

E’MAN: "Wait, I’ll get it eventually. Simon Cowell…David Beckham…Adolf Hitler,"

THURSDAY: "Adolf Hitler? He’s been dead for forty years!"

E’MAN: "Hm, I guess, but sometimes I get the feeling that he’s still alive…out there…somewhere."

THURSDAY: "Er, yeh, so the owner of SmuggleCo Inc is Mimi Weiss,"

E’MAN: "Mimi Weiss? Not the sister of infamous kingpin of organised crime Mr Weiss?"

THURSDAY: "The very same – and what’s more, guess which other underworld figure he was photographed meeting the other day by one of our surveillance units – Baron von Porn!"

E’MAN: "I knew it wasn’t a coincidence! What else have you turned up on the victim? Anything?"

THURSDAY: "Sure, just give me a second…ah, here we are: Mr C. Adaver. Known aliases: Mr C. Orpse, Mr B. Oddy and Mr C. Arcass. Resident of Los Angeles. Known to have worked for the mob. Served two sixth month sentences for murder and extortion – and there’s a warrant out for his arrest on a charge of jaywalking. No wonder he got out of California. If we’d caught him he’d’ve been looking at a mandatory death sentence under the three strikes law."

E’MAN: "God bless America!"

The phone on the desk starts rings. Crockett picks it up.

CROCKETT: "It’s for you." he passes it to Englishman.

E’MAN: "Hello? Uh huh…uh huh…yeh, say half an hour? Usual place? Okay, see you then,"

CROCKETT: "Who was that?"

E’MAN: "Foreign Johnny."

CROCKETT: "This is the 1980s, man! You can’t go around calling people foreign johnnies – it’s-it’s it’s racist."

E’MAN: "No – that’s his name: Foreign Johnny. Anyway, he might have a lead for me so I’m going to check it out. You guys keep working here."

SCENE: Looking down a deserted alley, at the end of which is a busy road. Englishman steps out of the crowd and comes down the alley.

E’MAN: "Hmm…wonder where he is." Englishman takes out a pipe, fills it with tobacco and lights it. He strolls a little further down the alley – then he spots a pair of legs sticking out from behind a dumpster. He looks over his shoulder, then approaches the find cautiously. Englishman breathes a sigh of relief and picks up the legs – it’s just half a mannequin. He drops it into the dumpster and turns around…to find himself face to face with Foreign Johnny who is hanging upside down from a fire escape staircase. There’s a clang from above. Englishman peers up and can see someone moving. Clanging footsteps on the metal stair echo down the alley. Englishman puffs hurriedly on his pipe and mutters to himself.

E’MAN: "C’mon, c’mon! Burn faster!" He peers down his nose at the bowl of the pipe. Finally he’s satisfied that it’s burnt down. He removes the pipe from his lips and lifts his leg so as to tap the contents of the pipe out using the underside of his shoe.

Next, using his umbrella he pulls down the ladder of the fire escape, then begins the pursuit. He reaches the roof and looks around. A head peers around one of the various protuberances on the roof top, then ducks back out of sight. Englishman begins towards it. A man stands up and starts running off. Englishman follows.

The two of them jump from rooftop to rooftop. The man pulls out a gun and begins firing back at Englishman – who opens his umbrella to deflect the bullets. Unable to see where he’s going with the umbrella open, Englishman is forced told raise it to a vertical position. A lucky shot knocks the umbrella from Englishman’s hand, but there’s no time for him to go back for it. The gunman gets to the end of the rooftops. He looks down into the street below, looks back over his shoulder at Englishman… and jumps.

Englishman races up to the roof edge to see the man sprinting away unscathed. A flat back lorry carrying mattresses drives off down the road. Englishman decides to go for it anyway. He jumps…

Cut to street level and a pile of boxes marked ‘CIGARETTES’. Englishman appears in the shot at high speed from above. Englishman lands safely in the boxes. He looks to see what broke his fall and picks up a handful of cigarettes from one of the burst boxes.

E’MAN: "These cigarettes are a life saver! If my fall hadn’t been broken by this huge tumour growing out of my back, then I could have been killed!"

Englishman gets up and turns around to reveal his disfiguring hunchback. A crowd has gathered to see if Englishman is all right.

MAN: "Are you all right?"

E’MAN: "Right as rain, old chap. I say, I don’t suppose anyone has a gun I could borrow, do they?"

Everyone in the crowd produces a gun of one kind or another. And old man pulls out a .44 Magnum, and baby in a pram holds up a Derringer, school kids proffer Uzis and Mac-10s. Englishman opts for a rifle and runs off again after the suspect.

E’MAN: "Much obliged!" He calls back, "You can pick it up anytime from Miami police station."

Englishman follows the man to a marina, but his head start mean that he’s already descended to the jetties whilst Englishman is left looking down high level of ground. Englishman takes aim with the rifle. He tracks the suspect through the scope. CLONK! Screen goes black.

SCENE: The police station. Crockett – who’s on the phone – and Thursday.

CROCKETT: "Thanks…yes, thank you, we’ll get right on it," He hangs up the phone. "That was about Englishman. He’s disappeared. Seems he was last seen pursuing a suspect towards the marina, but no one’s heard or seen from him since."

THURSDAY: "Suspicious…let’s go,"

SCENE: The Ferrari pulls up outside the marina. A squad car is already there and two uniformed officers are questioning passers-by. Crockett and Thursday get out and walk down a stone staircase to the jetties. They stroll along the boats. Crockett grabs Thursday’s arm and points to the name of the boat that they’ve just got to: ‘SmuggleCo 1’. Crockett and Thursday draw their guns and cautiously board the yacht.

SCENE: Two men in the yachts living quarters are involved in an animated discussion. Crockett signals to Thursday to go around the deck so as to take the other entrance. Once in position Thursday signals back. Crockett slides open the glass door at the back of the yacht.

CROCKETT: "Freeze! Nobody move!" One of the men goes for a shotgun by the couch, which Thursday shoots, the two men raise their hands.

THURSDAY: "You two punks better start talking. Where’s Englishman?"

MAN #1 (SUSPECT FROM THE ROOF): "Who?"

MAN #2: "What’s an Englishman?"

CROCKETT: "Don’t play dumb with me, we got ways of making you talk. Wait here – I’ll be right back with something that might just persuade you to tell us what we want to know."

The two goons look at each other. Exit Crockett.

SCENE: Pitch blackness. A scratchy/shuffling sound. Some sparks and the sound of a lighter being struck. Then a flame appears. Englishman is lying in a cramped wooden box.

E’MAN: "Hm, I’ll just have a cigarette whilst I await rescue from this airtight underground box which is already dangerously low in oxygen."

Englishman starts smoking a cigarette. Several cigarettes later and with the coffin full of smoke, we hear the sound of digging. We hear the sound of spades hitting the top of the coffin.

E’MAN: "AH, GOOD! YOU’VE FOUND ME ALL RIGHT THEN!" The digging stops for a moment.

CROCKETT: "Englishman – is that you?"

E’MAN: "The one and only!" The lid of the coffin is prised off and we see Crockett and Thursday stood over the hole, looking down at Englishman. Thursday holds out a hand and helps Englishman up.

CROCKETT: "Englishman, you’re all right! We were worried for a while that you might run out of oxygen and be severely brain damaged."

E’MAN: "You know, Tubbs, I think I might vote Labour at the next British election and Democrat at the next American election. Those two parties seem to have a lot of good policies."

CROCKETT: "What are you – stoned? And who’s Tubbs? This is 1983,"

Englishman shakes his head – hard – and then blinks a few times.

E’MAN: "So how did you find me?"

THURSDAY: "A rather unorthodox method of Crockett’s. When confronted with an alligator, suspects seem to like talking a lot more than usual."

CROCKETT: "Yeh, so anyway, they confessed to the whole thing and are going to testify against Weiss and Baron von Porn. Turns out Weiss was smuggling the illegal drugs out of Miami in the boxes of Baron von Porn’s illegal porn videos."

E’MAN: "Ahhh! Of course! The perfect crime! Customs would never have thought to check illegal porn for illegal drugs!"

SCENE: A huge white Miami mansion on a sunny day. Baron von Porn (who we saw earlier) and Mr Weiss are being put into the back of squad cars.

FADE OUT

SCENE: Back to the present and Englishman and Welshman in the gallery. Very dark.

W’MAN: "Just let me turn the light on, Englishman. It’s gone dark whilst you were telling the story." The lights come on, Welshman walks back over from the light switch. "So, what happened to Jessica’s nephew? And what did the jaywalking guy have to do with anything?"

E’MAN: "Well, it turned out that the so-called victim was dosed with nothing more than saline. Also, the post-mortem showed that he was already dead when it happened. So there was no murder. Come to think of it, maybe that wasn’t the biggest case I cracked in the eighties. But at least we cured Dick Van Sloan. Oh, wait, no. He was killed in that bed bombing."

W’MAN: "What bed bombing?"

SCENE: A hospital ward. Dick van Sloan is doing his rounds. Close-up of bomb stuck to underside of bed. Pans up to show Van Sloan checking a patient’s chart. Door bursts open. Englishman rushes in.

E’MAN: "Van Dyke! I mean, van Sloan! Noooo!" Van Sloan looks up at Englishman.

VAN SLOAN: "What is it?" Englishman looks puzzled.

E’MAN: "I…I can’t remember. Oh, wait, that’s right! The bomb! We have to defuse it. Help me look for it."

Cut to

SCENE: Exterior view of the hospital. Suddenly there’s a deafening explosion and a fireball bursts out from halfway up the hospital building. Debris and glass rains down onto the cars parked below. As the fireball turns into a tower of thick black smoke, the camera pulls backwards and pans across the road to show a café. We zoom in on two of the patrons sat at an outside table. Englishman and van Sloan are having coffee.

E’MAN: "Oh, right! The bomb! I completely forgot!" Englishman nonchalantly takes a sip from his cup.

W’MAN (Voice only): "So he wasn’t killed in a bed-bombing?"

E’MAN (Voice only): "Let me finish, Welshman."

At this moment a flaming bed plummets from the sky and lands squarely on van Sloan – crushing him.

Englishman, who was looking at the hospital when the bed landed, turns back to say something to van Sloan, but finding him gone, he closes his mouth again. Englishman looks all around him but can’t see van Sloan anywhere. Englishman wipes his mouth with the napkin and gets up to leave.

E’MAN: "Er, Waiter! Put it on my tab."

The waiter goes back inside. A few seconds later the owner runs out.

OWNER: "Hey, you don’t got no tabs with us. We don’t do tabs! You gotta pay for that, mister."

But Englishman has already climbed into a waiting car, which now pulls away from the kerb, oblivious. As the car drives off, we pan back to the café and the smouldering bed. It moves and from underneath it emerges, covered in soot and dirt; his previously pristine clothes torn and dirty. And he’s propping himself up with a long pole from the bed which has splayed at one end so it resembles a sweep’s brush.

VAN SLOAN in a very bad Cockney accent: "Where am I? Who am I? Well, Mary Poppins! Bless my soul!"

SCENE: Present day. The gallery. Englishman and Welshman. Welshman is nodding…then stops nodding and looks very confused. But before he can say anything an alarm bell rings out noisily through the Englishmansion.

W’MAN: "The fire alarm! Let’s get out of here!"

E’MAN: "Not without my priceless family portraits!" So they start taking the paintings down from the walls and stacking them up.

SCENE: Exterior view of the Englishmansion. Englishman and Welshman emerge from the front door through billowing grey smoke,

VOICE THROUGH MEGAPHONE: "Halt! This is the FBI! Put down your weapons and surrender!"

Englishman stops and squints out to see what’s going on. His view: a load of blinding spotlights, some large black off-road vehicles and the silhouettes of men with assault rifles.

E’MAN: "What weapons? What are you talking about? If this is about Welshman’s service revolver, I can explain. I was going to get a licence. No, no, wait…I’ve got a better one. We had a licence, but Welshman’s dragon ate it."

FBI GUY: "Go and get them!" FBI and ATF agents move forwards and ‘help’ Englishman and Welshman away from the property. "Sir, are you the owner of this house?"

E’MAN: "For tax purposes…no,"

FBI GUY: "But you do live here, don’t you, sir?"

E’MAN: "Yes, now what’s all this about?"

FBI GUY: "Have you, by any chance, recently rented this property out to one D. Koresh?"

E’MAN: "Well, I can’t remember his name, but maybe…yes, I think it was something like that."

FBI GUY: "Mr Koresh is leader of a cult calling itself the Twig Davidians,"

E’MAN: "Really? But what does this have to do with me?"

FBI GUY: "You’ve rented your house to him, sir,"

E’MAN: "Right – and?"

FBI GUY: "And he’s in there right now with a load of his followers,"

E’MAN: "So you’re just trying to get them out,"

FBI GUY: "That’s right, just as quickly and quietly as possibly,"

BOOM!

FBI GUY: "What the hell was that?!"

E’MAN: "Oh, no! My hand grenade collection! And it isn’t insured. You better have a good reason for burning down my house!"

FBI GUY: "Actually, sir, we were wondering if you could explain that to us. Smoke grenades don’t usually result in fire like this."

W’MAN: "Englishman, didn’t you say you were filling the house with gas and petrol?"

E’MAN: "Yes. Though I hardly see how that’s relevant."

BOOM!

A few people are blown off their feet. Englishman, Welshman and all the federal agents survey the house as it continues to burn. Flames are reaching into the sky from a hole in the roof, which is beginning to collapse.

E’MAN: "Ah, well, lucky it isn’t my house."

W’MAN: "Not your house?"

E’MAN: "Nope, my house is just over there, my giant castle on English Island – New York’s largest island." Englishman turns round, the camera swings round to stay behind him. We see a monstrously huge castle. Englishman turns back to Welshman.

W’MAN: "You mean ‘not registered in your name’, for tax purposes or something,"

E’MAN: "No. I mean, that’s not my house, and it has never been my house."

W’MAN: "What do you mean, it’s ‘not your house’? We’ve been living there for years! So whose house was it?"

A motorcade pulls up the driveway, out steps former President Clintstone.

E’MAN: "Speak of the devil – it belongs to that man: President Clintstone."

W’MAN: "But I though Lincoln resumed his Presidency when he was returned by the aliens?"

E’MAN: "No, you must have misunderstood what it says in the Constitution. It the event of a President being abducted by aliens, only for him to later return, he can’t just interrupt someone else’s term. Instead he becomes President elect, as it were, only without an election – and he takes over when the incumbent has served out his current four year term. It’s all there in black and white in the Constitution, Welshman."

W’MAN: "Fair enough. President Clintstone . . . I suppose that explains why the house has been vacant for the past four years, whilst he’s been in office."

E’MAN: "Yes, that’s a perfect explanation. Lucky for us President Clintstone doesn’t believe in door locks. Maybe they don’t like them where he’s from – Bedrock in Arkansas."

W’MAN: "Little Rock."

E’MAN: "I hear his wife Wilma is a senator now."

W’MAN: "Hilary."

E’MAN: "Well, shall we adjourn to the drawing room for a brandy."

W’MAN: "Yes…it’s been a tiring twenty two episodes – in England we’d only have had to make six."

Englishman and Welshman walk off towards the English castle as the sun rises on another morning in America.

End of season one.

ENGLISHMAN MAY RETURN…