All language subtitles for Porridge 1979.enng

RADIO: Lovely,
and who's the request for?

My husband, Kevin.

And what would you
like to say to him, love?

Well, just sort of tell him
that I love him

and I can't wait for the day
he comes home.

Aw! How long's he gonna be away?
About ten years.

Terrific.

So, if you're listening, Kevin,
wherever you are,

whatever you're doing,
have a nice day,

and this record is just for you.

MUSIC: 'Without You'
by Harry Nilsson

Excuse me?
Eh?

Could I cadge a lift?
Oh, well, no, you see, we're not...

My name's Beal,
I've just been posted here.

Oh, a brother officer!

Yes, of course.
It'll save me the cab fare.

Oh, well, I'd, er...
I'd still claim for it, though.

Thank you.

MUSIC CONTINUES ON RADIO

What's laddo in for?

Oh, it's, er...
It's better not to ask, you know.

In my experience,
if you know what a man's done,

it may prejudice you against him.

Best to start clean.
Benefit of the doubt.

Find out what he is,
not what he was.

What you in for, son?

Two years.

I didn't mean time, I meant offence.

None taken.

We know his sort, don't we?

See if he's still smiling
at the end of next week.

It's a bit bleak up here
this time of the year, but...

in the summer
there are some lovely views.

Where's the nearest town?

Oh, there isn't one.

Heh.

Have you got something to say?

You're as much prisoners as we are.

Well, I can't forget this evening

And your face as you were leaving

But I guess that's just
The way the story goes

You always smile

But in your eyes your sorrow shows

Yes, it shows

I can't live

If living is without you

I can't live

I can't live any more

MUSIC CONTINUES

One bunch of keys.
One diary, tartan cover.

One role of Sellotape.

One return portion ticket
Covent Garden to Ongar.

That's one journey you won't
be making for a while. Ring?

That's my wedding ring.

Married at your age? Daft!

MUSIC CONTINUES

DOOR SLAMS

RADIO: Ah, nice one, Harry.

Today's weather, well,
an excellent high of -2 degrees,

sleet and hail, but we're not gonna
let it bring us down, are we?

MUSIC:
'Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick'

by Ian Dury And The Blockheads

And the gardens of Japan

From Milan to Yucatan

Every woman, every man

Hit me with your rhythm stick

Hit me, hit me!

Je t'adore, ich liebe dich

Hit me, hit me, hit me

Hit me with your rhythm stick

Hit me slowly, hit me quick

Hit me...

BACKGROUND CHATTER

MUSIC CONTINUES ON RADIO

Pick that up, Ives!

What's your name?
Rudge.

Mr Mackay.
Mr Mackay.

There are only two rules
in this prison, Rudge.

Are you listening to me?

One, you do not write on the walls.

Two, you obey all the rules.

All right?

Carry on.

Hit me with your rhythm stick

It's nice to be a lunatic

Hit me, hit me

Hit me!

MUSIC CONTINUES

SHOES SQUEAK

DOORS SLAM

Do you see yon screw
With his looks so vain?

With his brand-new keys
On his brand-new chain

With a face like a ferret
And a pea for a brain

And his hand on his whistle
In the morning.

Is that you, Fletcher?

Is that me what, sir?

Satirical singing.

What, John Peel, sir?
That's traditional, that is.

Second only to my all-time
favourite, Scotland The Brave.

Come where the hands are clapping

Come where the toes are tapping

Come where the jocks are strapping
Down...

Fletcher!
Sir?

If you want to sing, I suggest
you form a Slade Prison Glee Club.

Glee?

KEYS JANGLE

Got any snout?
What if I have?

Well, if you have, all right.

If you hadn't, I was gonna offer you
some. I've got me own.

Fair enough.

Lennie Godber.

DOOR CLOSES AND LOCKS

Hey, Fletch!
I'm late.

I've got a letter from the wife.
Can you read it for me?

Look, Bunny, if you can't read,
how do you know it's from the wife?

It's got Elaine's scent.

Oh, dear! Where does Elaine work,
a tarpaulin factory?

Oh, come on, read it for me!

All right, all right, I'll just
give you the highlights, right?

"Dearest Bunny". Blah, blah, blah,
blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...

Blah. Blah, blah, blah...
Blah, blah, blah what?

It's just trivia, Bunny,
it's just trivia.

It's the weather, her mother's
catarrh, she's retiled the lav,

er, the canary's got haemorrhoids...

FLETCHER SIGHS

She met a welder at the Fiesta Club
and she's thinking of moving in

with him. All right, must be off,
Bunny, can't hang about.

We haven't got a canary.

As you can see, Mr Beal,
these men are gainfully employed

in the manufacture
of prison uniforms.

Gonna open my own boutique when
I get out. That'll do, Armstrong.

In the other workshop,
men are making metal dustbins.

Prisoners are also employed in our
electrical shop, maintenance shop,

laundry, and the prison farm.

Are you wearing make-up again,
Whittaker?

It's only a touch of rouge,
Mr Mackay. Get it off!

Anyone got any cleansing cream?

Get a lot of that, sir?

Insubordination?

Poovery.

Inevitable, Mr Beal.

We find it best to put them
all together in G Wing -

or, as we term it,
"married quarters".

HE CHUCKLES

I don't understand it myself, sir,
I never did.

Don't let that show, Mr Beal.

My attitude is, whatever he is,
each man in here...

is as despicable as the next one.

Well, that's very fair-minded
of you, sir.

I like to think so.

EXAGGERATED YAWN

Oh, afternoon, Mr Barrowclough.

Busy, Fletcher?

Oh, yes, yes, busier than ever, sir.
Still, I never complain.

I can't actually see what it is
you're supposed to be doing.

Oh, no, it's the pigs, sir.

They won't eat
without my reassuring presence.

Very highly-strung,
your average pig, you know?

Who's he?

Oh, Rudge.

Newly assigned to the farm.

How'd he work that, then?
Pardon?

Well, first day inside, the farm?

What is he, the Governor's nephew?

A first offender!

Admin thought it best.

Oh, well, gawd knows, we need all
the help we can get, as you can see.

Here y'are, lad.

What?

Shovel it. Shovel what?
Shovel that.

Shovel it where?
From here to there.

Why? Why?! Ah-ha, why...

If only we knew that, sonny,
but we don't, do we?

Ours not to reason why, ours
but to clean the sty. Wordsworth.

Yes, er, well, you'd better do
as Fletcher says.

This job is a privilege, you know,
Fletcher?

For the pigs, yeah.

Look, I want you to
set the lad an example.

Obviously, he's, you know, he's been
foolish to finish up inside here,

but I want you to show him that,
with a bit of graft,

he can make a success of his life.

Success? Oh, yeah,
I'll tell you about success.

I had a pal, came to London
28 years ago, right?

Without two ha'pennies
to rub together.

Now, he managed to scrape up
enough money

to get himself a little handcart.

And he went round
collecting all old newspapers.

Do you know what he's worth today?

No, what?
Nothing!

And he still owes for the handcart.

The farm!
Afternoon, Mr Mackay.

Ah, Mr Barrowclough.

The farm produces a moderate amount
of what the prison eats.

We've a little livestock,
as you see. Some pigs, poultry.

A few allotments for the older lags.

Ah, yes.

No guided tour of Slade Prison
would be complete

without meeting
Fletcher, Norman Stanley.

Afternoon, Mr Mackay, Mr Beal.

How do you know my name?

Oh, it gets around, sir.
It doesn't take long.

I expect you're already a legend
on some bog walls.

Typical recidivist, this one.

Been doing porridge
most of his life.

Never, I repeat, never...

give him the benefit of the doubt.

Oh, come on, Mr Mackay, you know me.

Bide me time, keep me nose clean.
I'm no bother, am I?

Long to do?
Long enough.

What you in for?

Got caught.

Got the picture?

What sort of pie is this?
Fruit pie.

Yes, I realise that. I merely
wondered what sort of fruit.

I dunno. It just comes out of a tin
marked "fruit pie filling".

So, we have no clue
as to its origins?

No, it's not oranges. It's more
like, er...

..plum, or damson.

What's the hold-up, Fletch?

Oh, it's the defrocked dentist
having a go at the cuisine again.

Move along, Banyard.

This food has not one ounce
of nutritional value.

Come on, Egon Ronay, shift yourself!

That's the matter with you people,
Fletcher.

None of you exercise your right
to complain.

Listen, if you don't move on,
my son,

I'm gonna exercise my right forearm
down your throat!

That'll do.

Put your complaint in writing,
Banyard.

Will it do any good?
No.

Hello, Len.
Hello, Fletch. 'Ere.

It's the laddo's first day here.

Do him a favour, will you?
Give him a small portion.

You're not doing yourself any
favours, are you, Banyard, eh?

All you're doing is getting up other
people's noses, ain't ya?

We have certain rights.
No, we don't. We're in the nick.

I suppose you think you're entitled
to something better

just because you went to
a public school, is that it?

On the contrary, Ives,
I'm well used to this kind of food.

I went to Harrow.

Oh, ho-ho, that's good, innit?

That's a good advert for
the public school system, innit, eh?

Prepares you for the nick!

Of course, it's worse for him in
here than for most of us, innit?

Cos he has had further to drop.
Professional man, dentist.

Tragic.
What do you mean, Fletcher? Tragic?

I mean, it's no laughing matter
for that woman he had

under the laughing gas, was it?
There's no need for that, Ives.

We don't have to keep
unearthing each other's pasts.

I'm paying for my peccadillos.
Oh, that's good.

Well, if you're paying,
I'll have a large one.

What's a peccadillo?

It's a South African bird.

It flies backwards to stop
getting the sand in its eyes.

No. No.
I know what you mean, though.

It's an animal, called the, er...
armadildo.

"Armadildo."

No, no, no.
That was King Arthur's codpiece.

I think that's what I'm eating,
an' all.

DOORS SLAM

TOILET FLUSHES

Don't worry, it may never happen.

It already has. I'm here, ain't I?

Now, look.

Whatever you're in here for,
you did it, didn't ya?

Bang to rights. Yeah.

Yeah. Just like me.

If we hadn't been caught, we'd have
been Jack the Lad, wouldn't we?

But we was, we was collared,
and that's that.

So, don't bleat.

If you can't do the time,
don't do the crime.

I ain't bleating!
Good.

Prison is like life, you know.

You need something to believe in
in here.

Something to hang on to
so you don't go under.

Can't buck the system.
It's mad to try.

But, you can lift the heart
with an occasional little victory.

Well, nice talking to you, Rudge.

Oh, one more thing...

Don't hang about in here too long.

Ambush Alley, they call this.

Not a safe place in the nick.

You get 'em all in 'ere -

transvestites, homosexuals,
drug addicts, the lot.

I tell ya, when someone walks
in 'ere, just sits down

and gets on with it,
it's like a breath of fresh air.

Oi!

RADIO: Most areas of
the Home Counties are again

affected by major power cuts.

Talks between the Government
and the union were broken off

following their rejection
of a 14% pay increase.

The weather: Freezing fog
and black ice...

Shoes all right, Mr Grout?

OK. On your way, Jacko.

THE ARCHERS THEME PLAYS

I don't like the look
of that new 'un.

What's his name, Beal?
Yeah.

And put me king back, Fletch.

What are you incinerating, Hedley?

It's there, and it was there!

Oh, was it?

Oh, maybe I shook the table.

I dunno, maybe the wind
blew it there.

That's why they're called draughts,
you know, the wind blows them about.

Hm. Go on, put it back, then.
Put it where you like,

if winning is all that important
to you.

I'll have it where it was,
thank you.

I don't mind losing, so long as
it's all fair and square.

Show me a man who laughs at defeat,

and I will show you a Black
chiropodist with a sense of humour.

HE CHUCKLES

RADIO: It's 7.24...

Almost lock-up, Mr Beal.

Then I'll buy you a jar.
I wouldn't say no to that, sir.

The prison officers
have formed a club.

It's known as
the Prison Officers Club.

It was formerly the coke store
before we converted to gas.

A little basic, perhaps.

But it's remarkable what you can do
with a pot of paint,

a few horse brasses.

And a little imagination.
I'll look forward to it, sir.

Oh, ah, sorry, Mr Mackay.

What are you up to, Ives?

Now, listen, Mr Mackay...
Always up to something,

aren't you, Ives?

This is Ives, Mr Beal.

Horrible, Ives. Aren't you?

Well, if you say so, sir.

Don't be cheeky, Ives.

BELL RINGS

Oh, dear, what a shame. Just when
you was poised for victory.

Don't worry.
We'll continue this tomorrow.

Ah, well, I dunno when I'm free
tomorrow, do I?

I shall have to consult
my social diary.

"Oh, well, that's all
I have time for.

"There's the ironing to be done
before Starsky & Hutch.

"Needless to say, I love you,
and miss your loving..."

"Arms", I think it is.

Yeah, would be arms, yeah.

Hm. Then it's lots of hugs
and kisses. Nice letter.

So, there's nothing in here
about a welder or a canary?

No, I would've noticed.

Hey!
What?

There weren't no welder,
or a canary.

And I never thought there were,
neither.

What's he on about?
Search me.

Stir crazy, perhaps.
Yeah.

Hey, how did that kid Rudge
manage to wangle the farm?

I dunno. Charm, I shouldn't wonder.

Been sitting in his cell since chow,
just staring at the wall.

Ah, well, he's just had his first
experience of your cottage pie,

ain't he?

Best not to move about too much
after that, innit?

He's only a kid.

Oh, dear, listen to her!

No, I just remember the first night
I come in here.

How I felt when that door
banged shut.

Hey, why don't you
go and have a word with him? Why?

Well, you're good at
that sort of thing.

You perked me up
when I first come inside.

Listen, I broke you in, Godber,
because you was forced upon my cell.

And it was in my interest
not to have a manic depressive

in the bottom bunk, wasn't it, eh?

Suit yourself.

I will, I will.

Oh, dear. 'Ere, you owe me
some darning wool.

Already gave you some!

That was in exchange for the orange.

Tangerine!

Besides, that was to pay me
for the stamp.

What stamp?
For your pools.

I paid you for the stamp
with a squirt of me toothpaste.

No, that was for the darning wool.

Well, look, I'm not gonna sit here
arguing the toss with you all night.

Have you got any or haven't ya?

Yeah. Well, are you gonna
give me some or ain't ya?

Yeah.

What, just like that?
Free, gratis and for nothing?

Yeah.
Cobblers!

MACKAY: All away!

Let's have them away now!

DOORS SLAM

All away!

MACKAY SHOUTS IN DISTANCE

Evening, all. Good evening,
Mr Mackay. Good evening.

Ah, Chalky. Evening.
Ah, what'll you have, sir?

No, no, no, my shout.

Henry?

Oh, no, I'd better not.
I must be off in a minute.

Nonsense, man!
He'll have the same again.

And Mr Beal and I will have
a pint of your finest.

I'll have a dram as well,
on the side. Purely medicinal.

Quite snug in here, don't you think?

Very nice.

Any suggestions, you know,
put them to the committee.

Of which I happen to be
the chairman. Ah, I will, yes.

Oh, the good thing about
a club like this is

it gives the men a chance to unwind
at the end of the day,

have a few laughs. Isn't that right,
Henry?

Y... Oh, yes, it's...
invaluable, in that respect.

Ah, welcome sight! First today.

Thank you. Here's to you, Mr Beal.
Here's to you, Mr Mackay.

I, uh, found what you had to say
very instructive, sir.

Well, one does one's best to be
helpful, you know.

Oh, very helpful. Cheers.

Bottoms up. Oh, aye.
Down the hatch.

No, you haven't entered
a glamour profession, Mr Beal.

We're underpaid, understaffed,
and overlooked.

Even though every time
we walk these landings,

we put our lives on the line.

Well, if you can't stand the heat,
get out of the kitchen.

And the public never hears of us,
of course.

Except adversely.

When some namby-pamby politician
takes up the case of a psychopath

who claims that we've been less
than gentle with him.

What do they know, sir?!

See, that's why...

That's why you'll find that
we're a pretty tight bunch here.

Unified, if you like!

Unified in the face of criminal
hostility, and public indifference.

That's why this place
is so important to us all.

Where the hell is everybody?!

FOOTSTEPS

YELLING

Get off!

YELLING CONTINUES

No!

You awake, Fletch?

No.

It's that bloke Atkinson.

Mmm.

He keeps getting
these terrible nightmares.

I know, yeah.

He told the shrink about it,
but all he's given him is aspirin.

You have to feel compassion,
don't you? Yeah.

A human soul in such torment.

YELLING CONTINUES

Belt up, Atkinson, you noisy scrote!

Let's be having you!

Morning, Atkinson.
Sleeping better, are we?

I slept like a top until some
stupid prannet started shouting!

What's the rush, son.

You should watch where you're going.

You should watch
where you're standing.

What's your name?

What's it to you?

CHOKING

There's no problem here,
Mr Lassiter.

The name's Rudge. Rudge.

My name's Harry Grout.

Don't think we've had the pleasure.

These are my friends,
Samson, and Delilah.

Samson got his nickname
because of the muscles.

And she got hers because of her
striking resemblance to Hedy Lamarr.

Grouty, listen to this!

Listen to what?

You know Robbie Patton
who works in the laundry?

Well, his wife wanted a divorce,
so she goes to the solicitor.

He says,
"Well, you've got to have grounds."

She says, "What's 'grounds'?"
So he tells her.

He says, "first of all,
there's insanity."

I mean, Robbie's a bit
of a dipstick,

but he's not certifiable, is he?

"Secondly, there's desertion."

Well, he's in here.
He can't go nowhere, can he?

"Third, there's cruelty."
As you know, he wouldn't hurt a fly.

So that leaves adultery.

"What's adultery?" she says.
So he tells her.

She says, "Ah, I think
we've got him there!"

"He is not the father of my child!"

THEY LAUGH

Good, innit?

THEY CONTINUE TO LAUGH

I thought you'd like that!

Can I have laddo?
We mustn't be late for work.

All right, yeah? Come on, lad.

"Not the father of my child!"

Very funny!

I don't get it...
Never mind.

Who was that fellow on the landing?

Harry Grout. He runs this nick.

I thought that was
the Governor's job?

No, only officially, sonny.

Next time you meet him,
bow, curtsey,

or lick his boots
if that's what he wants. All right?

Thanks.

RADIO: How are you?
Are you ready to do the sloosh?

The Listermint Sloosh!

JINGLE PLAYS

Are you slooshing? Do you like it?

Grout?

Yes?

Er...

Shouldn't you be
at your place of work by now?

Well, normally I would be,
Mr Barrowclough,

but I'm gonna see the MO.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.
Nothing serious, I hope?

Never been better.

HE COUGHS

SNEEZING, COUGHING

Oh, er...

Do you want to go next, Mr Grout?

I mean, I'm in no rush.

I'm afraid
you'll all have to clear off.

I need this room for a meeting.

On your way, lads.

I don't know what this is about,
but I require urgent treatment!

My boil needs lancing.

If you don't hop it,
I'll have one of my lads do it.

We haven't met.

I'm Harry Grout.

Everybody knows that.

Bill Oakes.

I know your form, Oaksey.

You're no second-rater.

You was moved 'ere from Wakefield,

where you obviously kept
your nose clean.

Half way through a 12-stretch
for armed robbery, innit?

That's right.

A big tickle,
that last job of yours.

I hope the money's
safely tucked away.

Someone's been investing it for me.

Safe as prefabs, then!

That's why I want out.

I wish to unfreeze my assets
and take off to the sun.

I can see how you would!

Obviously, there'll be
the appropriate recompense

to your good self.

Yeah...

I like the word recompense.

I was thinking in the region...

No, let me tell you MY thinking.

Five thousand.

Three before, two after.

It's only fair the lion's share's
should come upfront.

Once people take off to the sun,

they're often get careless
about tidying up their affairs.

Where do you want it put?

Hastings & Thanet Building Society,
Bexhill Branch.

How long will you need?

You'll have to give me
up to three months.

Supposing you don't spring me?

Then you get your money back,
Oaksey.

Mind you, I keep the interest.

Nine and a quarter per cent
at the moment, tax paid.

Next.

Oh... Where have they all gone?

They all got better, Doc.

You look a bit down in the mouth,
Mr Barrowclough.

Anything the matter?

Nothing new.

Same old story.
Domestic crisis, you know.

Oh, dear.

Mrs Barrowclough left you, has she?

Unhappily...

..no, Fletcher.

KNOCK ON GATE

Wait.

Morning.

She wheels her wheelbarrow

Through streets broad and narrow

Crying cockles...
Oh!

He loves all that, you know!

And mussels, alive, alive-o...

I thought I told you to wait
in the car!

She wheels her wheelbarrow

Through Wealdstone and Harrow...

Watch out for him. He's the mad
butcher of Slade Prison.

What did he do?

Fiddled the VAT on his sausages!

Where are you going with that?

Pig swill.
What?

Swill, for the pigs, sir.

Pig swill.

It's Fletcher, isn't it?

Yes, sir!

Settling in all right, are you?

Never mind if I am or if I'm not.

I wouldn't leave that bicycle there
if I was you, sir.

When I want your advice,
I'll ask for it.

Suit yourself, sir.

But there are one or two thieves
in here...

Whose side are you on, anyway,
ours or theirs?

Neither. Mine.

FLETCH WHISTLES

It lacks something, Lotterby.

With this soup, Elizabeth David
recommends coriander bay leaves

and a dash of pepper.

I said a DASH, Lotterby!

Aaagh! I've cut
the top of my finger off! Ow!

Show me! Stop making all this fuss.
Show me what it is.

No! It's really bad!

What's going on?!

Oh, shame...

This man has had an accident,
Mr Mackay.

Let's see, Cooper.

What happened?
Carry on, the rest of you!

Well, I thought I'd cut the top
of my finger off, but...

It seems to be still there. Sir.

Is that your bicycle, Mr Beal?

Yes, sir. I took the precaution
of bringing it indoors, sir.

Into this thieves' kitchen?!

Ask yourself the question, Mr Beal,
was that wise?

Er...

What would they want with it, sir?

The Lord alone knows.

"Rob now, think later".
That's their motto!

What's on the menu today, Godber?

Creme Dubarry, sir,
followed by curry.

Curried what?
Er... meat, sir.

What meat?
I don't know. It doesn't say.

It just says "Tinned Meat", sir.
On the tin, like.

Ladle.

Of course, he sees himself as
an authority on curry, he does,

on account of where he was stationed
in the army.

India?
No, Bradford.

Very fair, Godber, very fair.

Perhaps...

Perhaps just a dash more
curry powder?

Oh, right, sir. Erm...
Lotterby, curry powder.

HE SNEEZES FRANTICALLY

SMASHING CROCKERY

Try a hankie, sir. Blow!

Try a hankie, sir.

SNEEZING CONTINUES

Blow, sir.

I can't breathe! Get the doctor!

The MO, sir?
Get the doctor!

Get away, man.

Hello, Len.

FLETCHER RINGS BICYCLE BELL

That's what you got, is it?

Yeah. It's hardly ever been used.

What are you gonna use it for?

I dunno.

Well, why'd you nick it?

Well, he'd got one and I hadn't!

I can't understand

why Mackay hasn't come down on us
like a ton of bricks?

I'll tell you why.

He lost something today
in the kitchen, that's why.

What, pride, you mean?
Something else.

Shift your backside. Why?
It's hidden in your mattress.

Oh, I see. So if we get a search,
I'm the one who gets the blame.

Oh, yes, you would do, yes.

You think of everything, you do.
I try.

Have a look outside.
See if one of them's about.

OK. Shut your eyes.

All right. Open up.

Er! Teeth!

Yeah, Jaws Three! Look...

HE HUMS THE JAWS THEME TUNE

Get off! How'd you come by 'em?

Mackay sneezed 'em into the curry.

I'm not sleeping on THEM.

They won't bite you!
There's only half a set there.

No, no, I mean, they're red hot.

He'll turn the nick over
looking for them!

He'll negotiate first, won't he?

Bit risky.

Well, you know what they say,
"Nothing dentured, nothing gained!"

Now, 'ere', listen, Fletcher!

Ives, will you knock
before you come in here?!

Who is it?
Ives!

Clear off!

Now, listen 'ere', Fletcher!
Grouty wants to see you.

RADIO: Now, before we get
to your last record,

how well do you think you could look
after yourself on this island?

Are you pretty good with your hands?

WOMAN: Yes, I think I'm a fairly
practical sort of person.

I do my share round the house.

How's the diet going, all right?

RADIO:
This is the recording you've chosen.

MUSIC PLAYS

Desert Island Discs.
Oh, yeah?

Always been an ambition of mine,
to be on that programme. Yeah...

Nice threads, Grouty.

Yeah, feel that. 100% cashmere.

Lovely, innit?

He's doing me one in barathea
for when the weather gets warmer.

If it ever does!
Yeah.

On your way, Tenk.

SWITCHES RADIO OFF

Now, then.

Er, if it's about the...
If it's about the teeth...

What?

I realise, of course, that
you are entitled to first refusal.

Are you referring
to Mackay's missing molars?

I presume that's why I was sent for.
I mean, nothing escapes you.

Oh, no, Fletch.

If you've got 'em,
that's your tickle.

Oh, good.

Oh, no.

I wanted to talk to you about
something else.

Oh, dear.

I had this notion...
A football match.

Showbiz celebrities come up 'ere,
give the lads a boost.

Good for morale.

Oh, yeah, yeah. Lovely, Grouty.

I know a bloke in the Smoke
who could organise it.

First thing's to get
the Guv'nor's blessing.

I'm sure the Guv'nor would do
anything for you, Grouty. Yeah.

You suggest it, Fletch.

Why me?

Because you're a man to be trusted,
and I know you'd do it subtle.

Oh, yeah!

And of course, if anything went
wrong, it would all come back on me!

That's right!

Don't know why I didn't think
of that myself!

HE CHUCKLES

I'll do what you say, Mr Mackay,

but I'm not happy that we should
kowtow to these people.

If we do this kind of thing, isn't
there a danger of a loss of face?

MUMBLES: That's nothing compared
to my loss of teeth!

RADIO: And the outlook
for the weekend is little change.

Well, that's the weather, folks.

If you're thinking of going out
today, my advice is "Don't!"

RADIO JINGLE PLAYS

What's that?

A Spitfire. Saved our skins
in the war, they did.

Them and the Hurricanes.

That's what I'd like to have been,
a fighter pilot.

Up over the white cliffs of Dover,
a quick dogfight with the Luftwaffe,

then back to the mess for bacon
and eggs and a sing-song.

Er... Could I have a word, Fletcher?

I'm busy, Mr Barrowclough,
do you mind?

RADIO: All these and more.

See the National Express coach
advertisement

in your local evening paper.

Well, if you insist, sir.

Have to 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 can
put your hand on what he hasn't got.

Well, if he hasn't got it,

I don't see how I could put my hand
on it, sir.

And if he has, I'm not sure I
want to! You know what I mean?

Don't be obtuse, Fletcher!

We both know what we're on about!

And I want you to know,
I heartily disapprove of this.

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

But we are just the go-betweens, eh?

We are merely here
to maintain the status quo.

And if we don't come
to some little arrangement,

they go in the auction Sunday.

Ah... Arrangement, 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.
Oh, yeah.

Well, you know what they say, sir?

"An eye for an eye
and a tooth for a mouth!"

Clear off!

I have been authorised
to go up to a fiver.

Then the quicker you go up to it,
the better, sir.

Hang it all, Fletcher.

I mean, I would like to make some
token gesture towards bargaining!

Oh, I'm sorry, sir, sorry.
Go on, bargain away, sir.

3:50.
A fiver.

Done.

You certainly have been.

WHISTLE

No! 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?

Yeah, I love the game, sir.
So good for the lads, 'an all.

Teaches 'em things in life,
don't it?

You know, give and take,
fair play, "may the best man win."

Put the boot in, E Wing!

I used to play a bit, in goal.

Oh, yeah. Yeah, I can just see you
as custodian, sir.

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.

Of course, what the lads really need
is a bit more motivation. Hm?

It's a pity someone in authority

don't get one of them showbiz teams
to come up here.

Work wonders for morale, that would.

Show business?
Yeah.

Matter of fact,
I know a bloke in the Smoke

who runs that sort of thing.

Really?
Yeah.

Well, been nice talking to you,
Mr Beal.

Yes, on your way, Fletcher.

Another lager and lime.

Oh, no, my round, sir.

Thirsty work, eh?

Top that one up, would you?

It keeps me in trim, though.
Yes, I can see that, sir.

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

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

They can't play "away" matches.

THEY CHUCKLE

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 for it, sir.

A team from the 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, sir!

Off the top of my head. Just...

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.

Oh, well, don't look at me.

I've grown disenchanted
with the game.

20 years of supporting Orient
does that for 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, don't forget,
early night tonight, all of you.

I don't want any of you creeping off
down the pub, all right?

Oh, hello, Mr Mackay.
I didn't see you there, sir.

You're a strange choice for trainer,
aren't you, Fletcher?

Well, it's the lads what decreed it,
sir.

They took a vote, know what I mean?

I heard, yes.

Yet you're a man who's always
despised physical activity.

Oh, not in others, sir.

We got plenty of strength
at the back.

One thing we're not short
of is stoppers.

What we need now
is a bit of creative midfield flair.

From what I saw of him,
Rudge could provide that.

Revelation, he was.

Yeah, he reckons he had a trial
for Brentford,

before he had a 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, matter of fact, I have.
Look at that.

I thought I played quite well today.

Did ya?

Well, I thought so.

Good in the air. I scored one.

That was Urquhart's shot, wasn't it?
It just hit your ear as it went in.

No, that was a cunning deflection.

Oh, one of them, was it?

Oh, gawd!

So, er, how d'you rate my chances,
then, Fletch?

Chances? Of what?

Making the team!

Slim.

Darn your own naffin' socks!

Come on, Oaksey!

You're in here for armed robbery,

try and steal the ball
once in a while!

You're in the spirit of things,
Fletcher.

Afternoon, Mr Treadaway.

How do you rate our chances?

Difficult to tell, innit, sir.

We don't know what we're up against
yet, do we?

Have you heard any more
about who's coming?

They seem rather vague at
the moment, don't they, Mr Mackay?

There is some talk
of David "Diddy" Hamilton, sir,

and possibly one of The Goodies.

That'll be a novelty up here,
won't it? Amongst all these baddies.

Is that all, Mr Mackay?

No, sir, but these people
have commitments.

It's hard to pin them down
until the last minute.

Your head's going down, Godber!

We've had a letter
from Michael Parkinson, sir?

Oh, is he coming?!

No, sir. He wrote to say that he
would have come, but he isn't.

Oh...

But we have the letter on file, sir.

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 shall be lucky
to get Basil Brush!

Sir.

Look out. Mother Superior.

This'll be the visitors'
changing room, sir.

Our lot will change next door.

We're not painting that as well,
are we?!

Certainly not, sir.
Good.

What about valuables, Mr Mackay?

They leave them on the coach, sir.
Very wise.

Who are these fellows?

Whittaker, sir, and Whalley.

I picked them because they
have an artistic bent, sir.

Well, we're bent...

I know.
Carry on.

Get that eye shadow off, Whittaker!

After the game, sir, I thought we'd
have a little reception for them

in the prison officer's club here,
sir.

Oh, I don't think so.
It's such an inhospitable place.

But, sir, you haven't been there
since we brightened it up. Huh?

I acquired some horse brasses, and
the MO's wife donated a stag's head!

I still think they'd be much 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, you know.

Tommy Armstrong, Steve Callaghan,

McLaren, Nifty Small, Mini Cooper...

Young Rudge, of course...

FLETCH COUGHS

Wellings, and McMillan...

Doug Hayward, Urquhart,
and Lenny Godber.

Subs, we've got Bunny Warren, Adams,
and Jacko, in case it gets ugly.

Sounds a fairly well-balanced side.
Yeah, I think so.

We've gone for a blend of youth,
experience, flair, and brutality.

Only thing was...

I didn't hear Oaksey's name
in there.

No, I think Oaksey
would be the first to admit

that he is not a footballer.

Yes, I am.

Well, footballer, yes, maybe.

But I mean, you're not as fit as
some of the younger lads, are you?

Yes, I am.

Er...

Well, put it another way,

I was basing it on the fact

that he cannot tackle, pass, trap,
or dribble!

He throws in well, mind.

He's playing.

No, he's not.

Yes, I am!

Is he?

Oh, yes.

Oh, I got your name down here
all the time, Oaksey, look!

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

Come on, Fletcher! You're late.
All right.

DOOR SLAMS SHUT

I just want you to know
I've had it with you! You what?

You've really got up my goat
these last two weeks! Wrong!

I GET your goat,
I don't GET UP your goat!

I get UP your nose, or ON your wick!

Well, just lately,
you've done all three!

You never miss an edge, you.

Running around like a tinpot
Napoleon, drunk with power.

I've degraded myself for you,
I have. Given you Kit-Kat,

darning your socks,
just to make your naffing team.

We've been cellies a long time.
Doesn't that count for something?

If you made the team automatic,
tongues would wag. "Favouritism!"

That's why you've got to prove
yourself more than the next man.

I did! I didn't mind doing more
laps than anyone else,

more press-ups, knocking my pan out.

But I will not stay behind
and lace up everyone else's boots!

You're in the team.

Everyone's wetting their knickers
around this prison,

just cos we've got some so-called
celebrities coming up here.

Don't you want to play, then?
What?

You're in the team!

Straight up?
Centre back.

Oh, ta, Fletch!

You're changeable, ain't ya?

Who else is in?

"Armstrong, Simkin, Rudge..."
Oakes?!

Look, you're in the team,

so don't quibble about who else
is in the team, all right?

Everything you say, Coach!

Eh, who's captain?
Why?

I wondered whether
I was a contender.

A captain has to possess
certain attributes

which set him aside
from the rest of his team.

That is why I've chosen
Light-fingered Larry...

Urquhart?
What attributes has he got?!

Half an ounce of snout,

which he's now given to me!
All right?!

I must say, that's very
disappointing, Mr Bainbridge.

Yes.

The thing is, that, er...

Not many of the chaps in tonight.

There never are.

It's a desperate place, is this!

The only reason I come here -
it's either this or going home.

I'm single, myself.

I was married. Divorced now.

Oh, really?

Well, look at it this way, it
is better to have loved and lost...

than to spend your whole ruddy life
with her!

Ach!

Same again, Chalky.

That was Mr Bainbridge,
their team captain.

Bad news, I'm afraid.

We've lost David "Diddy" Hamilton.

Oh, dear.

We still have the Goodie, have we?

Well, he didn't say we hadn't.

It's been a good thing
for the prison, by and large.

They've talked about little else.

And there's been a noticeable
dropping off of violence of late.

Apart from Banyard's nose...

Yes, I think you have to be
commended for this idea.

Thank you, Henry!
Thank you, Henry!

Ah!

Welcome to Slade, gentlemen.

Our pitch is round the back.
Shall we drive on?

MUSIC PLAYS ON RADIO

CHATTER

Here's the netball team,
where's the flaming football team?

Which one's the Goodie?

I don't recognise any of them!

Fletcher.

This is, er...

Come along.

This is Mr Bainbridge,
who's organised the Showbiz XI.

How do you do?
Hello. Actually, we're only ten.

We were supposed to pick up
Tony McCauley

at the Mill Hill roundabout.

He's a songwriter.
Have you heard of him? No.

Oh. Well, he didn't turn up,
I'm afraid,

which is why we're a bit late.

Well, we'd better get on.

We have no floodlights,
not in the right places, anyway.

Mr Barrowclough,
would you see them through?

Could we borrow one of your chaps?

One of your subs, Fletcher?

Well, if you like, sir,
but what about Mr Beal, sir?

He's been saying he plays a bit.
He's as keen as mustard, he is.

Ye-e-s... I'll have a word with him.
Thanks.

Thanks a lot.

Forgive me asking, Mr Mackay,
but who the hell are they?

Me and the lads were given
to understand

there'd be a sprinkling
of celebrities!

Chap with the red hair?

Does the weather
on Anglia Television.

And there are a pair
of scriptwriters...

for somebody quite famous!

And Mr Bainbridge himself

has just finished pantomime season
at the Alhambra...

Swansea!

Oh, I'll tell the lads.
They'll be right chuffed (!)

Who are they, Fletch?

A weatherman, eight small parts,
and a Widow Twanky!

Now, go and get changed, will you?

THEY GRUMBLE

Excuse me. Is there a garage nearby?

I've got to top the bus up, you see.

The lads won't want to stop
on the way back.

Half a mile down the road,
in the village, Esso station.

Just...
Ah, good.

I'll nip down later.

Right! Well, I'd better get changed.

ON TANNOY: The match will commence
in five minutes.

Autograph hunting is not permitted.

CHATTER

You all right, Oaksey?
Yeah, yeah. I'm all right.

Right, lads, settle down,
pay attention!

I know you're all very disappointed,

cos they all turned out
to be nobodies.

ALL: Aye.

But the fact remains, they did come
all this way to give us a game.

So, let us give them a game.
Let's show them, shall we?

But no rough stuff, all right?
We don't need that, do we?

What about Mr Beal?

Oh, he's all right. You can kick
him to kingdom come!

LAUGHTER
But be subtle, right.

Oh, never mind. Go on, off you go.
All of you.

Don't forget what I've taught you!

And don't forget,
whatever happens,

don't let them panic you
into playing football.

CHEERING

I don't recognise any of them!

LOUD CHEERS AND APPLAUSE

CHEERING CONTINUES

What am I doing benched with
that pillock Oakes on the park?

You'll get on, son, don't fret.
'Ere, have a snort of liniment.

Now, gentlemen,
let's have a good clean contest.

It's not a boxing match, Mr Mackay.

That's what I'm anxious to prevent.

Call!
Heads.

Right then. We'll stay as we are.

Urquhart?

WHISTLE

WHISTLE

Afternoon, Mr Treadaway.
Oh, good afternoon, Fletcher.

How's it going?
Difficult to tell, sir,

seeing as we're only ten seconds
into the game.

Good dog. All right, dog. Good dog.

Which of them's the Goodie?

Oh, I don't think he's come, sir.
But we have got a weatherman.

He's out on the wing.
He says it's gonna rain.

Oh, well played, Slade!

Er... who is that?
That's Armstrong, sir.

Class player, he is.

Yes, he's going out next month.

Pity, that,
if we have another fixture.

Yeah, it is a shame.
He'll be right choked.

More games are on the agenda, eh,
Mr Treadaway?

I don't see why not.
If this one goes without a hitch.

Good for morale.

RATTLING

What's that noise?

Just your dog peeing against
my bucket. Don't worry about it.

Bad dog! COME ON, Oaksey!
Get a move on!

Are you blind? That came off of him!

Oh, sorry, did it?
I never touched it!

Yes, you did!
I didn't!

I think it's a message coming
through in semaphore!

I happen to be extremely honest!

Are you saying I'm not?
That's why you're here, isn't it?

Yeah, that's it, look.
"Sink the Bismarck'"

SHOUTING

HANDEL'S "MESSIAH" ON RADIO

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

Yes, Ives?

Oh... er...

Just thought you'd like to know,
Mr Grout,

it's Slade Prison 1 - Showbiz XI 0.

Really...?

Yes, a set piece.
Free kick on the right.

Callaghan takes it, Rudge volleys,
hits Godber on the cheek, bang!

Straight into the corner of the net!
No chance!

Well, you did ask me to keep you
informed, Mr Grout.

Better get off out there, then.

SHOUTING

Have you been bribed, Simkin?

No, I haven't!

Show an example, Fletcher!

BOOING

WHISTLE

CHEERING

I saw that!
What?

I'm going to book you for that.

What's your name, Cooper?

Cooper!

Here ya are.

Ooh, Jesus!

Cooper?

Oh, God...

Where does it hurt?
My ribs. Just there. Agh!

Hurts him just there, Mr Mackay.

Right. Here y'are.

Is there somewhere
I can take a leak?

Try the changing room.

Oh, ta.

WHISTLE

BOOS AND JEERS

You all right?
I don't know yet!

Oh, gawd, I've only just sat down!

Come on.

I hope it's nothing trivial,
I might get a game!

Ooh, no!

What's the matter, Oaksey?

Cartilage, I think. Old trouble.
I've had it before.

You'll have to get him off.
I'll help you, Fletch.

Come on.

Go on, then, Mac, set 'em alight!

CHEERING

I never touched him, you know.

I know, mate. Don't worry about it.

Careful.

Here, take a load off.

I'd best fetch the MO.
No!

You're in pain, ain't ya?

I'll be all right. He knows naff all
about orthopaedics.

I'll just have the early bath.

Come on, Fletch.
The lads need your strategy.

All right, son. All right.

CHEERING

WHISTLE

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Our ball! Corner kick!

Come on!

Where are they?

How many fingers am I holding up,
Godber?

You can't fool me, sir! Er... five!

The lad's concussed.
Get him off, Fletcher.

Someone go down to the Plough
and Sail and get the MO.

I'll go!

Don't be daft. Come on!

Right, let's get on. Corner!

It's a goal kick!

Any more of that, Urquhart,
and I'll have you for dissension.

BLOWS WHISTLE

Not too tight?
No, it's all right.

'Ere, don't forget the specs!

Oh, yeah.

What are you hanging about here
for, Jacko. Get on the pitch.

What?
You're substituted.

Let Warren go on!

I want your strength up front.
Go on. Corner!

All right, Len, get in here.

Sit down. I'll get water to bathe
your face.

No, you won't, Fletcher.

Oh, my gawd!

Look, we've seen nothing, have we,
Len? Seen what?

It's your caper, son. I don't want
nothing to do with this.

They saw you come in, didn't they?
Are you just gonna sit there

until half time and pretend you
didn't notice? Notice what?

You'll have to take them with you!

You've got no choice, have you?
Otherwise I'll be in it an' all.

Oaksey, I'm not going anywhere!

You'll do as you're told, son.

Oh, bleedin' hell!

In. In!
Come on, Len.

It's our ball, Mr Mackay.
It come off their man. Corner!

See, he knows nothing.
He's got amnesia!

Come on! Get on with it.

SHOUTING, CHEERING

Right, shift.

Yeah, all right. All right.

Right, in!
You're joking, Oaksey!

I'm warning you, Fletcher. Get in.
Get in!

C'mon, Slade. Take no prisoners...

SHOUTING FROM THE FOOTBALL MATCH

WHISTLE

Oh, come off it!

Hold it, driver!

Penalty being taken.

Go to your left.

WHISTLING, JEERING

Out you go!

Mr Cox, open the gates!

RADIO: Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Everything all right?

Who's the bird?

My sister-in-law.
What's she doing here?

It's more natural, married couple,
touring.

This time of year?!
Ah, come on.

Hang on a minute.
Don't say you brought a suitcase?!

Don't be so stupid!
Come on, Fletcher.

I wasn't told about this.

Come on!

I wasn't told about this!
Shut up!

Who are they?!
Don't look at me.

Look, Fletch, a woman!
Yeah. All right. Get in there.

HALF-TIME WHISTLE

What's the hurry, Mr Barrowclough?
I'm dying for a Jimmy Riddle!

You berk.
Here y'are, lads.

Hop it, Simkins!

Don't look at me, lads,
there's 11 in the team!

Only one of us
let the ball through his legs.

Where's Fletch?
Probably knackered.

It's not like Fletch
to miss his orange.

MUFFLED SPEECH

Jolly good close game. Your chaps
were unlucky not to equalise.

Not my chaps.

I'm strictly impartial.

Young Budge was playing rather well.

Rudge, sir.

That's what I said.

Any word on the walking wounded
in there?

Mr Mackay...

Just a moment, Henry.
Yes, but, you see...

I'm talking to the Governor,
Mr Barrowclough!

Yes, but...

There's something
I think you ought to know.

Cheer up, Fletch!
I've done you a favour, son.

We're free and clear!

You think they haven't blocked
the roads?

We're going North, to Scotland.

They'll never figure on that,
will they, eh?

Never figure on Dumfries.
Dumfries?

Queen o' the South, their team.

Scottish League Division B, as was.

Dumfries: 0,
Hamilton Academicals: 1.

Is he all right?

He banged his head on the goalpost.

At least he's oblivious
to this fiasco!

St Johnstone: 2, Stenhousemuir: O.
All right. Leave it out.

What do you mean, fiasco?
Sweet as a nut, this is.

Listen, Oaksey, you obviously
got good reason

for doing something this drastic.

I've got under a year to go.
And the lads, even less.

You're doing us no favours, Oaksey.

I haven't got the money
for plastic surgery

and a first-class ticket
to Acapulco.

And I certainly do not relish
wintering in Dumfries.

D'y'know, I'm very upset
you feel that way. Oh, yeah?

But I had to bring you.
You can see that, can't you?

You don't have to bring us
no further.

Dump us. Gawd knows
we're in the middle of nowhere.

You know about Dumfries.

I don't know nothing, son.

It's still them and us, remember?

On your way, then.

Yeah, see you, Oaksey.

I hope not!

We're out!

Yeah, I know, son.

Come on.

Yes, yes, I'll wait.

Ah!

Everything's in hand, sir.
They won't get far.

Police have been informed
in four counties,

road checks on all major roads
south and east.

Local police are looking
for the coach,

and I'm detailing some
of our men to help them, sir.

And I'm having to ring
the Home Office.

Oh...
Oh, indeed, Mr Mackay!

I shan't forget this football match
was your suggestion!

Mine, sir?

Oh, no, sir!

No, no, let us be fair.
The idea came from Mr Beal.

Did it?

Oh, sorry. Look, I know you've got
other things on your mind,

but without the coach, how am
I gonna get my chaps back to London?

Er... Oh, hello?

Would you mind, sir?

Treadaway, Slade.

COCK CROWS AND DOG BARKS

You all right, Len?

I think so.

Good, cos we're both gonna need
clear heads

if we're gonna get ourselves
out of this mess!

'Ere, stick some of these
in your pockets.

What for?
Sustenance, son. Sustenance.

We might be out all night in this,
you know.

He's really dropped us in it!

It weren't our fault.

Wasn't us who went over the wall.
I know!

But the screws don't know that,
do they?

They've had a conflab by now,
won't they?

"Whose idea
was this football match?"

"Fletcher's, sir."
"Oh, yes? Really? Very nice."

They'll put two and two together
and make three.

Three?
Three years.

That's why we can't let 'em
catch us.

Can't we give ourselves up
to the law?

We can't do that. They wouldn't let
us get a word in edgeways.

Some local bobby's not gonna
pass up the chance

of capturing us single-handed,
is he?

A commendation for him.

Another notch on his truncheon,
in't it?

What are we going to do?

Well, actually, I've got
the perfect solution. What?

We're going to break back in.

Yeah, I know, I know. Come on.

Hey, why don't we nick a chicken?
Don't be silly.

It's Wednesday afternoon. Where'd
we get sage and onion stuffing?

Use your loaf.

DOG BARKS

MAN: Oi! Come back here!

SIREN APPROACHING

PRISONERS:
Nymphs and shepherds gone away

Gone away!

QUIET! QUIET!

Gone, gone, gone, gone away!

Hey, Fletch?
What?

How d'you know we're going
the right way?

By the sun.

ORGAN MUSIC

SHEEP BLEATS
Ow!

Excuse me!

Can you tell me what's going on?

No-one else seems to know.

We're gonna miss our train
if we don't leave soon.

Oh, I'm sorry, but the police want
statements from all of you.

You see, this whole job could all
have been worked out in advance.

I bet if we'd brought
Michael Parkinson or the Goodies,

you wouldn't have held them
for questioning.

Probably not.

But of course, you didn't, did you?

Oh, dear.

I told you it would be dodgy.

Come on, come on, don't flag.

Jab! Jab!

It's the big one next week, sir.

HORSE NEIGHS

Who was that?

Couple of escaped convicts.

Oh.

Oh, Fletch, leave the bell alone.

I s'pose you're right.
Old habits die hard.

Might as well give 'em this
back an' all.

You just won't admit it.

We're lost.

It's gonna be dark soon,
we're gonna have to sleep rough.

There's gonna be a frost tonight.

All right for some of us.
Some of us have got long trousers!

Shh!
What is it?

I heard something.

TWIGS SNAPPING UNDERFOOT

Thank you, Hiawatha (!)

Hiawatha didn't wear football boots,
did she?

He. Get down!

What is it?

Cops.

Copse? You mean like a wooded glade?
Yeah.

A wooded glade crawling
with bleedin' cops!

Mackay, Slade Prison.

Any developments, Sergeant?

Nothing.
They'll be long gone by now.

Did you check the ground
for tyre tracks?

Of a getaway vehicle.

D'y'know, we never thought
of that...

I didn't mean to imply...

If you did your job as well as us,
they wouldn't be out, would they?

This is not an everyday occurrence!

You'd expect one odd con
to tunnel out

or go over the wall
on a rope ladder,

but three of them?!

Driving out...in a bus?!

All right, lads, we're through here.

What about the coach?

It's all yours.
We're finished with it.

HORN BLARES

Mr Collinson, you get back
to the prison.

I will drive the coach
with Mr Miller.

Er, are you sure you can drive
this thing, sir?

This?! No bother at all.

Right, come on.

ENGINE STALLS

Clutch!

Straight back as you are.

That's it. Come on.

Keep coming, Mr Mackay.
Come on. Straight back!

Come on, a bit more.

All right, you're clear there!

Oh, it's you, Mr Mackay!

Yes, it's me, laddie!

If you'd have been half awake
earlier,

this would never have happened!

Yes, sir!

It's cold.

If they're out in the open, it'll
freeze their brass monkeys off.

I hope so, Mr Miller. I hope so!

It's just like the wooden horse.

What wooden horse?

The Greeks and the Trojans.

That's how the Greeks got into Troy.

Save the history lesson till
we get back to our flowery dell.

How are you gonna manage that?

Have I ever let you down?

No.

Well, I might now.

Come on.

Freeze!
I'm freezing already!

What's this?
C'mon, give us a hand.

Come on.

But it's half-past eight.
The club should be open!

I didn't open up,

as under the circumstances,
I thought nobody would be here.

Yes, well, in the circumstances,

I need a drink
more than most evenings!

What'll it be, Mr Barrowclough?

Something to keep out the cold.

Yes, it's bitter out.

It's bitter in.

Make those two large ones, will you?

You know, I'm surprised at Fletcher
and Godber going over.

Surprised and disappointed.

You will never learn, will you,
Mr Barrowclough?

You can't judge these people

by our standards of decency
and behaviour.

They are the dregs of society.

GROANING

What was that?

Ssh, ssh.

Help!

It's coming from the store room!

Help!

It's locked.

Course it's locked.
That's where I keep all the booze.

Give me the keys.
Help!

Oh, thank God, Mr Mackay!
Saved at last!

Where are we? Who is it?

Don't worry, Len.
Our ordeal is over.

HICCUP

You're saying that Oakes forced you
down the delivery hatch?!

At gunpoint, sir!
Well, he had to do something.

Otherwise we would've blown
the whistle on him, sir.

We'd have gone and seen Mr Mackay,

who happened to have the whistle
at the time.

It's no laughing matter, Fletcher.

The man's been drinking, sir!

I had to, sir.
It was only medicinal, sir.

It was perishing down there.
The audacity of it!

Prisoners
in a Prison Officers' Club!

That was a very shrewd move
on Oakes's part, sir.

I don't follow you.

He knew it was the one place where
you'd never find a prison officer.

HE LAUGHS

There'll be one or two red faces in
the Governor's office this morning!

King, please.

They put it out on BBC last night,

"Three prisoners escape
from Slade Prison."

This morning they've got to say,
"Sorry, we only meant one!"

Makes 'em look as if
they can't count, don't it?

Oi, Fletcher!

Oh, hello, Mr Grouty, sir.

There'll be something for you

in your Christmas stocking,
Fletcher.

Oh, thank you, sir.
I'll look forward to that, sir.

Carry on.

What did he mean by that, Fletch?

Oh, I got him some millet
for their lovebirds.

I didn't know Samson and Delilah
ate millet?!

The cage birds,
you stupid little nerk!

BELL RINGS

Oh, dear.

I don't know why you kowtow
to that man Grout.

I know you don't, Mr Banyard.

That's why your nose
looks like it does.

'Ere, Fletch.
What?

All right, you are.

Am I?
Yeah. You use your head.

All you got in here.
I'm learning that.

Good.

RADIO: OK, here's today's
lucky horoscope for Taurus the bull.

Romantic inclinations
may pull you in one direction,

but cool common sense will be urging
you to follow another course.

Everybody's been asking me today
what really happened. Oh, yeah?

You'd be amazed at some of the
theories people have come out with.

Still, you're all right.

It all adds fuel
to the Fletcher legend.

What's the matter with you?

Well, we're still in this cell,
aren't we,

while Oakes is Hardy Kruger?!

Hardy Kruger?

"The One That Got Away".

A film, starring Hardy Kruger.

Well, I shouldn't worry about it.

Before long, he's gonna be
Googie Withers again!

Googie Withers?

"Within These Walls".

Maybe not. Maybe he got abroad.

He'll hate it. They always do.

You can't sit in the sun
for the rest of your life, can you?

Before too long, he'll get homesick
about Halifax, or wherever he lives.

He'll miss kippers, or custard,
wildcat strikes.

Maybe...

Look, Len, why don't you
bide your time, eh?

I mean, you'll soon be off out
of here, won't you? Free and clear.

And you won't be looking over
your shoulder all the time.

You won't be listening out
for every creak on the stair.

Yeah. Yeah, you're right, Fletch.

I just wasn't thinking straight.

The fresh air must have gone
to my head. Schtum.

Evening, Mr Mackay.

I won't buy it, Fletcher.

That's just as well, sir,
cos it ain't for sale.

You know to what I am referring.

The Governor may believe your story,

but the Governor
does not walk these floors.

I was in the village today.

Some peculiar reports.
Sightings, you might say.

Oh, yeah? UFOs you mean, sir?

Oh, yes.

Unidentified Fleeing Objects.

A boxer in shorts with his trainer.

A sexton's missing bicycle.

A farmer sees two thieves running
from his apple store.

Now, I can't prove you were out,
Fletcher...

Godber.

But mark my words...

..my day will come.

NOISILY CHOMP APPLES

MUSIC: 'Free Inside' by Joe Brown

Made a wrong turn at 17

Took me down a one-way street

I should have listened to my head
And turned right round

Instead I just followed my feet

I thought I was heading
In the right direction

But it was downhill all the way

Oh, sooner or later

The man's gonna take ya

Turn o' the key and lock you away

But it's gonna be all right

It's coming out good

It's gonna be all right

I'm changing my ways
And turning the tide

There's a piece of me
That no-one can take

And it's locked up in my head

And I've got the key
And it keeps me free inside

Inside

There's a piece of me
That no-one can take

And it's locked up in my head

And I'm feeling free inside

I never gave you
No hard-luck stories

Never gave you no alibis

If your hand's in the hat

And you pull out a ticket

Don't mean you take the prize

I know I was heading
In the wrong direction

But a man can change his ways

Oh, sooner or later
Time's gonna make you

Count up the cost
And count up the days

But it's gonna be all right

It's coming out good

It's gonna be all right

I'm changing my ways
And turning the tide

There's a piece of me
That no-one can take...

And it's locked up
In my head...

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