CURRENT AFFAIRS/ ACCIDENTS SKETCH

 

Cut to a simple set with two chairs in it. Close up of Mr Praline.

 

Praline: (J.C.) Hello. 'Ow are you? I'm fine. Welcome to a new half-hour chat show in which me, viz the man what's talking to you now, and Brooky - to wit my flat mate - and nothing else, I'd like to emphasize that - discuss current affairs issues of burning import.

 

Pull back to show Brooky.

 

Brooky: (E.I.) Have you heard the one about the three nuns in the nudist colony?

 

Praline: Shut up. Tonight, the population explosion.

 

Brooky: Apparently there were these three nuns...

 

Praline: Shut up. Come the year 1991, given the present rate of increase in the world's population, the Chinese will be three deep. Another thing...

 

Floor manager comes in.

 

Floor Manager: (T.J.) Sorry, loves, sorry, the show is too long this week and this scene's been cut.

 

Praline: Lord Hill's at the bottom of this.

 

Floor Manager: But if you can find a piano stool you can appear later on in the show in film.

 

Brooky: 'Ow much?

 

Floor Manager: Oh, about ten bob each?

 

Praline: I wouldn't wipe me nose on it.

 

Brooky: 'Ave you 'eard the one about these three nuns...

 

Praline: Shh. I can hear something. 'Ang about, we may still get in this show as a link.

 

Praline kneels and puts his ear to the floor. In the bottom section of the shot we see beneath the floor an animation of the unfortunate members of the Society for Putting Things on Top of Other Things being flushed along a pipe.

 

Brooky: That's clever. How do they do that?

 

Praline: Colour separation, you cotton head.

 

Animation: various adventures of the Society members.

 

Cut back to announcer. There is a loud argument going on in the café behind him.  

 

Announcer: (J.C.) Well, they seem to be in another tight spot...(to the argument) Could you...could you, could you keep it down a little, please. Thank you so much. Could you keep it down please...Thank you. (to camera) Well and now we move on to our, to our main course. Prawn salad...Prawn salad?

 

Oak-panelled door with notice on it saying 'Prawn Salad Ltd'. The butler pushes it open and shows man into living room. The room is fairly large, containing at one end opposite the door a big window, making the room look quite high up - although it should be stately rather than modern. In the middle of the room's back wall there is a large ornate mirror, over a mantelpiece filled with objects. To the right of this wall there is a large bookshelf filled with books, and in front of it there is a drinks trolley.

 

Butler: (G.C.) Well, if you'll just wait in here, sir, I'm sure Mr Thompson won't keep you waiting long.

 

Man: (E.I.) Fine. Thanks very much.

 

He picks up a magazine. The mirror behind him without warning falls off the wall and smashes to the ground. The butler returns, and looks at the man enquiringly.

 

Man: The mirror fell off the wall.

 

Butler: Sir?

 

Man: The mirror fell off... off the wall... it fell.

 

Butler: (disbelieving but polite) I see. You'd better wait here. I'll get a cloth.

 

The butler just closes the door behind him and the bookcase detaches itself from the wall and comes sweeping down, bringing with it the drinks trolley. The butler opens the door.

 

Man: Ah, it ... it came off the wall.

 

Butler: Yes, sir?

 

Man: It just came right off the wall.

 

Butler: Really, sir.

 

Man: Yes, I ... I didn't touch it.

 

Butler: (politely ironic) Of course not. It just fell off the wall.

 

Man: Yes. It just fell off the wall.

 

Butler: Don't move. I'll get help.

 

He goes.

 

Man: Yes - er, fell off the wall.

 

A maid enters.

 

Maid: (C.C.) Oh my God, what a mess. 'Ere, did you do this?

 

Man: No, no. I didn't do all this. It... it did it all.

 

Maid: Oh? Well... 'ere, hold this. I'll get started.

 

She hands him a dagger.

 

Man: Oh, it's jolly nice. What is it?

 

Maid: It's a Brazilian dagger. Ooops.

 

She trips, falls lethally on to the dagger he is holding. She collapses at his feet. There is blood on the dagger and his hand. He is looking down at her, when he becomes aware of the butler and the gardener in a green baize apron at the door looking at him in horror.

 

Man: Er, she just fell on ... on to the dagger.

 

Gardener: (T.J.) (soothingly) Yes, of course she did, sir.

 

Man: Yes, just gave me the dagger and tripped, and went, 'Oops'.

 

Gardener starts backing round the room away from him, but humouring him.

 

Gardener: Yes sir, I understand.

 

Man: I mean, I didn't er...

 

Gardener: Oh no, no, of course not, sir, I understand.

 

Man: I mean she ... she just, er...

 

Gardener: Fell?

 

Man: Fell.

 

Gardener: (backs off too far and falls backwards through the window) Arrghh!

 

Man: (to window) I'm terribly sorry.

 

A policeman and the butler appear at the door.

 

Butler: That's him.

 

Policeman: (M.P.) Right, sir.

 

Man: Hello, officer. There seems to have been an accident. Well, several accidents actually.

 

Policeman: That's right, sir. Would you come this way, please. (goes towards him) Ahh! (clutches chest) It's me ... me heart, sir. (collapses)

 

Butler: You swine. I'll get you for that.

 

He is about to move forward when a large portion of the ceiling collapses on him. He goes down, too.

 

Man: Er, I won't wait. I'll phone.

 

He moves off through door. Large crashing sounds. He comes downstairs into a stretch of hall leading to an outside door. As he goes, suits of armour collapse, bookcase glass smashes, a grandfather clock tips over and smashes, pictures fall off walls. All this quite quickly in sequence as he passes in horror. He gets to the main door. We see his relief. He closes the main door behind him, slamming it: it's a country-house-type entrance. Cut to stock film of country house being blown up. Cut back to man looking in horror, with dust and rubble swirling around. He is holding the remains of the door.

 

Man: Sorry.

 

Pull wide. He is in a patch of rubble. The Society for Putting Things on Top of Other Things members walk by in their evening dress.

 

Members: I think we're really out this time. Yes. Jolly good. Now where's the school hall. I think it's over there. Come on. Sorry. Jolly good.

 

They go past the bishop from previous episodes in the field.

 

Bishop: (M.P.) (singing) Oh, Mr Belpit. Your legs are so swollen.

 

Sir William: (G.C.) Excuse me, is that the school hall?

 

Bishop: Um, I'm sorry, I don't know. I'm not in this one - I'm in next week's, I think.

 

Sir William: Oh, come on.

 

Bishop: Oh, Mr Belpit!...

  

They come to a school hall. A sign says 'Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, presented by the staff and pupils of the Dibley School for Boys'. 

 

Sir William: Oh, here we are. (they go in) 

 

Cut to announcer in cafeteria. 

 

Announcer: Ah well, they seem to have linked that themselves, so there's no need for me to interrupt at all. So, ah, back to the school hall. 

 

This sketch continues into Seven Brides for Seven Brothers

 

 

   
 

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