The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer Page #5

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an unprecedented seven minutes ovation.

Mr Hutchison. Your position as leader

must now be completely secure.

How do you feel about

the violent heckling

that punctuated your speech?

I am not saying that the Labour Party

was responsible

for this disgraceful episode.

But I will say this

it did seem to be organised.

(PHOTOGRAPHERS) One more, sir!

- Look this way, sir!

(HUTCHISON) Michael! Niss!

(RIMMER) Well done, Tom!

Very good indeed.

(HUTCHISON) What's the

next move then, Michael?

(RIMMER) At the moment, Tom, I've got

my personal life to consider.

- I'm thinking of getting married.

- Oh, congratulations, Michael.

- I think an MP needs a wife by his side.

- Quite right.

(NISS) Who is it?

That... I'm not entirely sure of.

Have you got the result

of that poll yet?

Yes. Queen,

number one, as usual.

She's out.

Oh, yes. Number two.

Second most popular girl in Britain

Pat Cartwright, showjumper.

- Very nice.

- Love at first sight?

- Pretty girl, isn't she?

- You romantic fool, you!

(# ROMANTIC ORCHESTRAL MUSIC)

(CLICKING OF TYPEWRITER KEYS)

(RIMMER) Morning.

Hello.

(# ROMANTIC MUSIC CONTINUES)

(SMALL TALK IS IN BACKGROUND)

(PAT) Would you like to have a drink?

My parents would love to meet you.

I'd love to, the trouble is I've got to dash

and see the Prime Minister.

(PAT) Oh.

- How about dinner some time?

(# 'RIMMER' THEME)

(BLACKET) Hello Michael.

Nice of you to come.

My privilege, Prime Minister.

- Make yourself comfortable.

- Thank you.

Tell me, Michael. Have you ever thought

about going into politics?

We're always on the lookout

for fresh blood

and there are one or

two seats available.

Well, I've never really thought of myself

as a socialist.

Can't see why that

should be an impediment.

We're not bound by dogma.

Think it over. The offer's there.

Thank you.

Now then, my spies tell me

not literally, of course!

(PRESSES RECORD) ...that your firm

has been investigating the reasons

for the slight decline in

the popularity of my government.

I'm afraid it's you, sir.

But your polls have always

shown me as being

more popular than

the government as a whole.

Exactly. The public haven't

been seeing enough of you.

I mean, you haven't been

on our TV screens

for quite a while now.

Well, I try to give the impression

that we work as a team.

But every team needs a leader.

True.

So you think a little more exposure

on the silvery tube?

The more the better!

(BLACKET LAUGHS QUIETLY)

(PRIME MINISTER, ON RADIO) Good evening,

and hello again.

A lot has happened

since ten o'clock this morning,

so I thought it was about time

we had another of our little fireside chats...

(RIMMER) Never seen a man

dig his own grave before.

(PAT) Go turn him off, Michael.

(CHANNEL CHANGES

TO 'LOUNGE' MUSIC STATION)

(RIMMER) I must tell you how much

I've always admired your seat.

It's been an inspiration to me

over the years.

(HE KISSES PAT)

(RIMMER) With this ring...

Stop it. We mustn't...

Once doesn't count as breaking training.

I've got the Olympic Heats tomorrow...

...I've got the 'olympic heats' tonight.

(DREAMILY) I think I've achieved

a new personal best!

(TV COMMENTATOR) The surprise upset

at the White City

was the defeat of Pat Cartwright

who failed to complete her round.

(SOUND OF SPLASH AT WATER JUMP)

She complained afterwards

of stomach cramps.

(INTERFERENCE) ...We see her now coming out

on Brown Goblin.

She's safely over the first

riding slightly higher

in the saddle than usual

a quick turn here...

(FERRET SWITCHES SET OFF)

(MRS FERRET) Where's it all gone?

(FERRET) Huh? Where's all what gone?

- The furniture.

- Ah.

Well, while you were out this morning

it started getting a bit shaky.

So I just popped it

into the furniture shop

to have it re-pawned... repaired.

I rather like it like this.

A great feeling of space.

Care for a glass of 'Fors'?

(BLACKET) Good morning!

(GUARD) Nice to see

you again so soon, sir.

- You know the way, I imagine?

- Oh, yes.

We thought of building you

a flat up there, sir.

Oh, no, no. Very amusing!

Because I'm here so often,

you mean? (LAUGHS)

Bloody Capricorns! I'll have

a word with Bob about him.

A little regional unemployment,

I think. (LAUGHS LOUDLY)

(# PASTORAL FLUTE

AND HARPSICHORD MUSIC)

(HUTCHISON) Oh, Michael. Let me introduce

my old friend Teddy Mandeville.

The next Chancellor of the

Exchequer, eh, Teddy?

(RIMMER) Very nice to meet you

in the flesh, sir.

(MANDEVILLE) It's a pleasure.

(SPOT) Hello.

(HUTCHISON) I must say that Blacket idea's

working out awfully well.

(SPOT) Even our gardener's sick of him.

I mean, he's never off the box!

(RIMMER) I hope he doesn't die

of over-exposure.

(LAUGHTER)

Such a ghastly little man!

(RIMMER) He is a big help. You know

what's going to decide the election?

Law and order.

That, and the race issue.

I think we should be tougher

with the immigrants.

Well, I don't see

how we can be any tougher

than the Labour Party.

We can't let in less than zero.

(SPOT) We could let a few out.

I mean, Uncle Eric's

got this super idea about a boat race.

Five thousand pounds

for the first West Indian

who can row back to Jamaica.

When they all sort of row off,

it'll be fantastic!

- I mean...

(SPOT'S AUNT) Spot. Your shot.

Oh, my shot...

Coming, Auntie Vanya!

(RIMMER) As Sir Eric is retiring

in any case

why don't you allow him

to express his real views?

(HUTCHISON) The man's a lunatic!

Good shot, Eric!

(RIMMER) Exactly. He could make

a grossly inflammatory speech

you could sack him

and emerge as a man of principle,

yet the impression would still get about

that we are tougher on immigration

than the Socialists.

(RIMMER) Peter, I wonder if

I could tear you away

from my fiance for a moment?

Like you to call up

a few newspapers...

Nobody could accuse me

of being a racialist...

(SPOT LAUGHS)

...but when I hear stories

as well-authenticated as this

which I heard from a very close friend

of a constituent

who had been talking

to somebody in a pub

who had heard from

an extremely reliable source

that a fragile old lady of ninety-two

had been locked in a lavatory

by a group of ten immigrants

who proceeded to poke at her

with sharpened broomsticks

for a period of fourteen hours

whilst they chanted

anti-white slogans,

and finally forced her to use

a newspaper photograph

of Mr Enoch Powell

in a way... that I'd

rather not go into here.

When I hear stories

like that, I wonder

are we mad, to allow,

in this country, fragile old ladies

to be ruthlessly poked by blacks!

(SCATTERED APPLAUSE)

(PHOTOGRAPHER) Could we take it from

the end again, please?

(BENTLEY) Eh?

(PHOTOGRAPHER) 'Are we mad...'

(BENTLEY, REPEATING) Are we mad?

Are we mad?

Are we mad?

(PHOTOGRAPHER) Look to the right, sir!

(BENTLEY) Are we mad?

Are we mad!

(LOUDLY) Are we mad?!

(PHOTOGRAPHER) Look to the right, sir...

(BENTLEY) Are we mad? Are we mad?

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