Porridge Page #4

If you insist, sir.

Call it a draw, Hedley.

In private, if you don't mind.

Oh? Delicate matter.

Oh! Step in the office.

I'm here at the request of Mr Ma...

er, one of my senior colleagues.

Well, I-I think you know that...

I know that you know... what I know.

Do I? The grapevine says you could

put your hand on what he hasn't got.

If he hasn't got it,

how could I put me hand on it?

And if he HAS, I'm not sure I want

to! Don't be obtuse, Fletcher!

We both know what we're on about! And I

want you to know, I heartily disapprove.

Oh, so do I, sir! So do I!

But we are just the go-betweens,

here to maintain the status quo.

Unless we come to an arrangement, they

go in the auction Sunday. Ah... yes.

My function is to ensure that the item in

question is restored to its rightful place.

To wit, his mouth.

I think we see eye to eye. Yeah! 'An

eye for an eye and a tooth for a mouth!'

Clear off!

I have been authorised to go up to

a fiver. The quicker, the better!

Hang it all, I would like to make a token gesture

towards bargaining! Sorry, sir, sorry. Bargain away.

Done. You certainly have been!

It was a 50-50 ball

and he bottled out!

I'll have you for that.

WHISTLE:

Afternoon, Mr Beal.

Afternoon, Fletcher.

Football fan, are you?

I love the game, sir.

It's good for the lads. Teaches 'em

things in life, give an' take, fair play...

Put the boot in, E Wing!

I used to play a bit, in goal.

Yeah, I can see you as custodian. Not

much would get past you, eh, Mr Beal?

Come on, somebody!

I WAS fairly useful. Essex

Methodist League, runners up '69.

Oh, my word, sir.

What the lads really need

is more motivation. Hm?

It's a pity someone in authority don't

get one of them showbiz teams up here.

Show business? Yeah. I know a bloke in

the Smoke who runs that sort of thing.

Really? Yeah.

Nice talkin' to you, Mr Beal.

Yes, on your way, Fletcher.

Another lager and lime.

Oh, my round, sir. Thirsty work, eh?

Top that up. It keeps me in trim,

though. Yes, I can see that, sir.

A lot of talent in the men but... they lack motivation.

Well, they can hardly join a league, Mr Beal.

They can't play 'away' matches

Er... I know a chap in London who organises

charity matches. Show business, that sort of thing.

He might be willing to bring a team up here. Show

business? It'd work wonders for morale, sir. Morale, eh?

Morale.

Morale, Mr Mackay? Could work wonders, sir. A

team from outside, a sprinkling of celebrities.

Put Slade on the map, sir.

Local press, that kind of thing.

This idea hasn't come from the prisoners,

has it? Oh, no, no! Off the top of my head...

Yes... well... I'll give it

some thought. Very good, sir.

It's on. I heard.

Well done, Fletch. Any time, Grouty.

Now we need someone reliable

as trainer.

Not me! I'm disenchanted with the game. 20

years of supporting Orient does that to a man!

I insist. Oh. In that case,

it is my privilege.

Come on, Oaksey. You're flagging!

I heard Rod Stewart was coming?

Unlikely, he's a tax exile!

Who gives a monkey's,

we're getting double rations!

Come on, Oaksey! Shift yourself!

Well done, lads, well done.

Listen, early night tonight.

No creeping off down the pub,

all right?

Oh, hello, Mr Mackay.

I didn't see you there, sir.

A strange choice for trainer. Well,

it's the lads what decreed it, sir.

They took a vote, know what I mean?

I heard.

Yet you have always despised

physical activity. Not in others.

We got plenty of strength at the

back. We're not short of stoppers.

What we need now

is creative midfield flair.

How about Rudge? Revelation, eh?

Says he had a trial for Brentford,

before his trial for shoplifting.

I can believe it.

Have you... uh... Have you chosen

the final team, like? Not yet, no.

Want a bit of Kit-Kat? What? Oh, ta!

You must have a rough idea, though. A nucleus,

like. Well, taking shape, taking shape.

Have you got any socks need darning?

Yeah, I have. Look at that.

I thought I played quite well today.

Did ya? Well, I thought so.

I scored one. That was Urquhart's

shot? It hit your ear as it went in.

No, that was a cunning deflection.

Oh, one of them, yeah?

Oh, gawd!

So... er, how d'you rate my chances, then,

Fletch? Chances? Of what? Making the team!

Slim.

Darn your own naffin' socks!

Oaksey! You're in for armed robbery

so try and and steal the ball!

In the spirit of things, Fletcher? Afternoon, Mr

Treadaway. What are our chances? Difficult to tell, sir.

Have you heard any more about who's

coming? They seem rather vague.

There IS talk of David "Diddy"

Hamilton and one of The Goodies.

That'll be a novelty

amongst these baddies!

Is that all? No, but these people have

commitments. It's hard to pin them down.

Your head's going down, Godber!

Michael Parkinson wrote to us. Is HE coming?

He says that he would have come, but he isn't.

But we have the letter on file.

Didn't you mention that comedian chap? What's his name

- Jimmy Tarbrush?

Buck, sir. Yes, Buck Tarbrush.

Well, unhappily,

he's indisposed, sir.

Oh, dear.

Buck Tarbrush We'll be lucky

to get BASIL Brush!

Sir.

This'll be the visitors' changing room, Our lot will

change next door. Are we painting that, too? Oh, no!

And any valuables? To be left in the coach.

Who are these two? Whittaker and Whalley.

I picked them

for their artistic bent.

Well, we ARE bent!

Mmm, I know.

Carry on.

Get that eyeshadow off, Whittaker!

Afterwards, we could have a little

reception in the Officers' Club.

Such an inhospitable place.

But sir, you haven't been there

since we brightened it up

with some horse brasses!

And the MO's wife donated a stag's head! I still think

they'd me more comfortable in the Plough and Sail.

'Scuse me, I'd like to go through.

They're all engaged.

I have certain rights!

I'm desperate for a pee!

^ This is blatant intimidation!

It's time you people realised...

Hello, Fletch.

Hello, Grouty.

I am going through that door

and no one's going to stop me... Aaagh!

So?

Let's hear the team, then!

Yeah... er, Ronnie Simkin

in goal. Lesser of two evils.

Tom Armstrong; Callaghan; McLaren; Nifty

Small; Mini Cooper; young Rudge, of course...

FLETCH COUGHS:

Wellings and McMillan...

Doug Hayward; Urquhart; Godber. Subs are Bunny

Warren, Adams and Jacko in case it gets ugly.

Sounds a fairly well-balanced side. Yeah, we've

got youth, experience, flair and brutality.

Only thing was... I didn't hear

Oaksey's name in there.

No, I think Oaksey would admit that he is not a

footballer. Yes, I am. Well, a footballer, maybe.

But I mean, you're not as fit

as the younger lads. Yes, I AM.

Er... I was basing it on the fact

that he cannot tackle,

pass, trap or dribble!

He throws in well, mind.

He's playin'. He's not!

Yes, I AM!

Is he?

Oh, yes.

Oh, your name IS down here, Oaksey!

It's just that I've spelt it McMillan.

Come on, Fletcher! You're late.

All right.

DOOR SLAMS SHU:

I've had it with you!

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes