Going Postal Page #9

---

Damn you.

Account for this.

Reacher, no!

Leave it.

What are you doing?

Saving us from prison.

But we have to keep account.

Your job is to hide things,

not to declare them

for the whole world to see.

Please, Reacher!

lt is my life's work.

Get off me, you fat fool.

Look at you.

Loose flesh, loose tongue,

loose brain.

Just loose everything.

The fact is, Horsefry,

you're too stupid to live.

(YELLS)

(YELLlNG / HlTTlNG NOlSES)

Found the fault yet, Mr Pony?

l-l...

Mr Horsefry was taken ill.

lt left a nasty stain on the carpet.

l sent him home.

But can't stand the smell.

Mr Pony,

that's not the look of a man

who's in for a substantial pay rise.

Better.

Adora, that's a really neat trick

you pulled off.

l knew you'd see it my way.

l have no idea

what you're talking about.

Freezing the towers.

That was very slick.

The trouble is, right now the

Post Office is down, too. Bandits.

Hmm. How careless of you.

We need a double whammy.

As you hit the clacks,

we can steal their business.

A synchronised attack.

l wouldn't synchronise with you

if you were the last person

on the Disc.

40 Passing Clouds, please.

You know what?

You're right. You don't need me.

You're more than capable of bringing

down Reacher Gilt on your own.

You've got it all under control

so l'll just walk away

and leave you in peace.

You won't ever hear from me again.

Two...

Don't you want to know how l did it?

Go out onto the Post Office roof.

Get yourself a little bit closer

to Heaven.

Then get down on your knees

and pray.

You know how to pray, don't you?

Just put your hands together

and hope.

Hello?

She said pray.

Hope you don't mind

about the sausage business.

But, to be perfectly honest,

l think we both came out of it

looking pretty good.

Anyway, l was wondering if -

ls this about the rent?

Who the hell are you?

We paid Mr Groat. So you'll

have to take it up with him.

Forget Groat.

What are you doing on my roof?

l'm Mad Al. He's Sane Alex.

And that's Adrian.

He says he's not mad

but you can't prove it, can you?

We're pigeon fanciers.

So where are the pigeons?

Out flying.

Pigeons don't fly at night.

Bats.

We're trying to breed homing bats.

Bats don't have a homing instinct.

Yes.

Tragic, isn't it?

Yeah, because sometimes

l come up here at night

and l just see their empty

little perches.

As all l can do not to cry.

Well, l'm sure Lord Vetinari will be

fascinated to hear all about it.

You know, l quite enjoyed

seeing you on your knees.

Adora.

The Smoking GNU, actually.

You can really jam the whole

clacks system from a pigeon loft?

Mm-hmm.

Nice trick.

Trick?

This is cutting edge cracking.

Two years in development.

lterative beta testing.

Culminating in this.

Away you go, boys.

Firing out from here...

..into the Grand Trunk.

Then...

Jam.

But before it jams,

it's already passed the code on.

So...

Jam.

The problem started at this tower.

And l think one of you

has been meddling.

Was it him?

Was this his idea of a joke?

No, sir. He didn't do anything.

Then it must have been you.

You with a juvenile sense of humour.

(SHRlEKS)

Stay back. l'll have to drop

every employee until someone -

l've got it. l know what's happened.

One moment, Mr Pony.

l'm just disposing of some assets.

(SCREAMS)

Hey! That's my niece.

Oh, that is useful to know.

lt's a strange aperture.

lt's jumping off

the elliptical bearing.

l can fix it.

lf you hit Q and then K,

and the resonant frequency

to sent it to Genua,

when the pressure

is higher than ours -

Spare me the details.

Can you trace it?

Well, there's over

1 0,000 messages here.

(GROWLS)

(SCREAMS)

l might be able to find it.

Thank you.

There, there.

(MAD AL) Better stop down now.

When the sun comes up,

(WHlSPERS) they can see us. Shh.

See?

We can do to the clacks

what my stiletto did to your foot.

lt's not a bad start.

Not bad?

As long as we're sending, Reacher

Gilt doesn't earn a single dollar.

Ah, but if we worked together

while you're stabbing his foot,

l can be picking his pocket.

The great thing about the Post Office

is we don't rely

on complicated machines.

We have hands and feet.

And...

..strong ones at that.

Heave away, Mr Pump.

(CHEERlNG / APPLAUSE)

Ladies, gentlemen,

don't get caught in the clacks.

Come join us at the Post Office.

We'll get your message delivered.

You see, the clacks system works

at the cutting edge of technology.

And in the white heat of progress

there are sometimes complications.

But l can assure you

there are now all resolved.

Some people are saying -

And we'll be providing refunds for

any messages that have been lost.

All you have to do is

fill in the claim form.

But l do urge your readers

not to do anything as rash

as writing a letter

and sending it by post.

Wouldn't you -

You might as well tear it up

and scatter it to the four winds.

Mr Gilt, this claim form

is 50 pages long.

A help desk will be provided.

But, please, don't get bogged down

in the details.

What really matters is

we fly high above the bandits.

l will wager my hat of office

that the clacks will have broken down

by sunset tonight.

(APPLAUSE)

And when we win, l'll burn his

ludicrous hat of office in this.

Now to collect on that wager.

Ready to stick the stiletto in?

The pleasure's all ours.

So, how long does it take?

(MAD AL) lt should have got

to the first tower already.

l must say, it's looking

distinctly underwhelming.

lt's alright leaving us.

So much for iterative beta testing.

Don't shout at me.

l'm not shouting.

l'm just calmly stating.

Well, just don't.

ls it possible they could have...

..cracked our code?

Just as l was beginning

to like the hat.

Stop whining, Lipwig.

l'm not whining, l'm just -

l'd like to know why

the GNU isn't smoking.

l'm sure you've talked your way

out of worse situations before.

That was the old Lipwig, remember?

l'm a changed man now.

Mr Lipwig, sir. Mr.. . oh.

Mr Lipwig, sir.

Mr Groat.

l imagine Gilt's demanding the hat.

You're not gonna let them have it,

are you?

What's that l hear?

Nothing.

Moist Von Lipwig has nothing to say.

Have we lost everything?

(GASPS)

Relax, Mr Groat.

l'm not done yet.

All l have to do...

..is attempt the impossible.

As you can see, the sun has set

and the clacks system

is working perfectly.

All that remains is for

the Postmaster to admit defeat.

But where is he?

Another empty promise.

Now, don't get me wrong.

l have a fondness

for the quaint old Post Office.

lt's part of our history.

But, really,

that is where it belongs.

Did someone ask for me?

Ah, Postmaster.

Just in time.

The fire was getting low.

Well...

..if you're too scared

to rise to the challenge.

Have it.

Challenge?

An overnight race

from here to Uberwald.

The clacks versus the post.

That's over a thousand miles away.

1 ,700 miles, to be precise,

Miss Cripslock.

Mr Gilt,

do you accept the challenge?

Accept?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes