Carry on Dick

In the year 1750,

England was going through a period of

lawlessness unprecedented in her history.

Highwaymen terrorised the roads. Footpads

and cut-throats ran riot in the towns.

It hasn't changed much, has it?

In an effort to combat this wave of crime,

King George set up a special police force

called the Bow Street runners,

under the command of a man with

a reputation for being always on the job,

Roger Daley.

You men have been especially chosen

for one task.

To wipe out crime and violence.

And I know I can depend upon you

to do a good job.

Carry on, Captain Fancey.

Thank you, sir. Bow Street runners, atten...shun!

Left turn!

To your duties, quick, run!

Quick, run! Quick, run! Quick, run!

Halt!

Right, everybody out.

Hands up, mate!

Hand over your valuables.

Out and hand over!

But despite these initial successes,

there was one notorious highwayman

who constantly eluded the Bow Street runners.

One Richard Turpin.

More commonly referred to as Big Dick,

owing to the unusual size of his weapon.

Get ready.

Now.

Stand and deliver!

What's the meaning of this?

Keep calm, my dear.

Oh, dear.

This is an outrage!

You don't know who I am!

(Cackles)

I'll have your head for this!

(Whip cracks)

Stand and deliver!

- (French accent) Why have we stopped?

- It's Dick Turpin, ma'am.

- Blimey!

- (Cackles)

- (Women shriek)

- I'll handle this.

Stay where you are! Behave yourselves, now.

Behave yourselves!

You!

Get out of the road,

unless you want this broken across your head!

Excuse me, madam, I don't think

you've noticed what I've got here.

That doesn't scare me.

I've seen bigger ones in my time.

That doesn't surprise me.

You are wasting your time.

We have nothing to give you.

Madame Desiree and her Birds of Paradise.

(Giggling)

And you say you've got nothing to give us?

You must be jesting.

My girls are not fancy women.

They will fight for their honour.

Will they? (Cackles)

- Come on, out of there, the lot of you.

- No, you don't! Stay where you are, girls!

- All right, lads. Get your bags.

- I'll have the big blonde!

Your saddlebags, you fool!

Oh.

All right, ladies, we just want your clothes

and your valuables.

- Oh, is that all?

- That'll do, Lizzie.

(Giggling)

- Come on, in there!

- Girls, will you please...

Give us that!

Ladies, don't worry.

The only harm you'll suffer will be physical.

(Dick cackles)

You'll get nothing from us, I tell you. Not a thing.

Do you mind, madam? They know what I want.

Come here.

Shall I rush 'em now, Sergeant?

No, I think we'll let them uncover

a little more evidence first.

(Squeals of delight)

I see what you mean, Sergeant.

Catch them right in the act, eh?

I'll not leave it as late as that.

Far enough!

You can see they're not hiding anything.

- Now, then, what about you?

- No, you are not having it off.

That's not what I had in mind.

What's on the end of that gold chain?

No... No, you must not touch that.

It is my only means of support.

- Let me have a look at it.

- You mustn't!

(Cockney)

I told you it was my only means of support!

(Whistle blows)

Stay where you are!

We are Bow Street runners.

You're under arrest.

- Drop 'em!

- She just did.

No, no. The pistols.

Oh, these?

All right. Stand away from 'em, ladies.

How do we get 'em away from here, Sergeant?

Er... Yes, I was just wondering about that.

That shouldn't be a problem.

We've got our horses over there.

You'd love that, wouldn't you?

I wasn't born yesterday.

Of course you weren't.

You're too clever for the likes of us.

What else can you do?

You can't use the lady's coach.

No, we can't use the lady's coach. We... we...

And why not? Can you think of a better way?

See? I told you

you were too clever for us.

That's if it's all right with you, ma'am.

- Just to take 'em to the nearest lockup.

- With pleasure.

Thank you, ma'am. I'll send it right back for you.

All right, you. Get in.

After you, Sergeant.

How very kind, sir.

That's very nice of you, you don't...

(Guffaws)

Oh, no, you must think I'm a right mug.

Get in! Come on, the lot of you.

Quick as you like.

Cover them all the time.

Use your loaf, I'll see promotion for you.

- Leave it to me, Sergeant.

- Good lad. That's it.

Make a bit of room for me, lads.

I'll just sit on the outside.

Aargh!

(Horse whinnies)

(Dick cackles)

Come on.

Come back! Come back!

We're here, m'lud.

- Bow Street.

- Get in there and bring out Captain Fancey!

Yes, m'lud.

I could wear a codpiece.

I wouldn't advise it, my Captain.

The price of cod today...

(Knock at door)

- Yes, what is it?

Begging your pardon, Captain.

Oh, Bullock!

- I told you I was not to be disturbed.

- Yes, Captain, but the chief's outside.

The chief? Sir Roger?

My coat.

Why didn't you tell me, you fool?

- But I just did, Captain.

- Don't bandy words with me. Out of the way!

Sir Roger, what an unexpected... pleasure.

We hadn't expected you back for over a week.

Nor would I be, were it not for that wretch Turpin!

You mustn't let these trifling matters concern

you, sir. We have the matter well under control.

It may be of interest to you to learn that he

robbed me on the road to York last night.

- He's taken everything we've got.

- You'd better discuss this inside, sir.

Oh, I beg your pardon, milady!

He really did take everything, didn't he?

- Everything!

- Where exactly did this happen, did you say?

- On the road to York.

- Just outside Dencher, Captain.

Would that be Upper or Lower Dencher?

- About halfway between the two.

- In that case, we've nothing to worry about.

You may have nothing to worry about, Captain,

but you have not been travelling all night

with your bare buttocks on cold leather.

No, sir, I've had one of my best men patrolling

that stretch of road, Sergeant Strapp.

If Turpin was around, he'll have had him,

you can be sure.

I hope for your sake that you're right,

Captain Fancey.

You can depend on it, sir.

Nothing gets past old Jock Strapp.

(Horse neighs)

Ah, here he is now.

Well, Strapp, what happened?

Well, sir, I thought I'd better report to you

personally, sir.

- Good.

- See, we ran into Turpin's gang last night.

- And you apprehended him?

- Well, yes, sir...

What did I tell you? Good old Jock!

There's one slight problem, sir. He got away.

I knew he wouldn't let me dow...

- He got away? How?

- It's a long story, sir.

I don't want to hear any long stories,

you incompetent dunderhead!

I'm sorry. There's been a slight mishap, my lord.

I know. I heard.

Don't worry, I intend to take personal charge

from now on.

I promise you I'll have Dick Turpin

hanging from a gibbet within a month,

or my name is not Desmond Fancey.

There's only one comment

I have to make on that, Captain.

- (Horse farts)

- And that's it.

Pardon.

Quite right, Captain. There's something wrong

with the hang of the breeches at the front.

- Just stand still a moment.

- I'm far too busy to worry about that now.

Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote