Original subtitles

This episode of drop the dead donkey was first shown in February '93,

in a week which featured a health scare over apple juice,

Michael portillo's proposals to slash public sector spending,

the queen issuing a writ against the sun,

and revelations that j Edgar hoover was a transvestite.

Right, big story, portillo wants the private sector

to run schools, police, prisons, hospitals.

Heed my words. In five years' time,

they'd have replaced hospitals with branches of operations "r" us.

And you'll get there on liberian-registered buses

that pay toll to the local police franchise called plod "u" like.

Staffed by 12-year-old school leavers,

whose parents got behind with the mortgage on their kid's pencil

and who are now doing time

in strangeways - world of adventure plc.

And all these bloody companies

will be part of one giant consortium,

whose board of directors will be headed by Michael "poxy" portillo.

Well, thank you for that observation, Henry.

Oh, where are you off to, Damien?

I'm gonna do my Nazi war criminals in britain piece.

You know the one about the Estonian ss officer living in Leicester?

Now, you have got the right man, haven't you?

Trust me.

Great news. Sir royston's wife is visiting us this afternoon

to see our operation in action.

And I'm sure I don't need to remind you

that she's a very important woman. Bit of a looker, too.

So I want everyone on best behaviour.

And, Dave, that means you don't go anywhere near her.

Please, I am getting tired of this cliche.

Do you honestly think I would try to seduce

sir royston merchant's wife?

Well, you did seduce his daughter.

Only the once.

Yes, yes, yes, we all know Dave's groin overheats

faster than a Bulgarian nuclear reactor.

But frankly, I'm rather less worried about the fornicating

and rather more worried about the fawning.

Why do we have to walk on eggshells

just because this woman's decided to drop by?

Just because she's the wife of some megalomaniac billionaire.

I think you've answered your own question there, Helen.

So, this afternoon, I want everything spick, span,

dapper, ripper, and Bristol fashion. Excellent. Now, if that's all.

Well, there is one more thing. Terrific.

Sexual harassment in the office... Oh, good, when can we start?

Well, it looks as if you already have, Henry.

Since one of the pas raised the subject,

I've logged 34 complaints, 32 of them about you.

Oh, that's absurd. I don't think you realise

how sensitive some of the girls are. The younger ones in particular.

They don't like being called sweetheart and darling

and plumbum.

You can't pay a woman a compliment these days.

Now, listen, Henry, all Helen is trying to say is...

Back off, you sick old perv.

Thank you, Sally. I can handle this, thank you.

All I'm asking, Henry,

is that you show a little bit of consideration.

All right, fair enough, Helen.

From now on, I'll do as you ask and, well, I'll make a real effort.

Thanks. After all, how could I refuse

a scrumptious piece of totty like yourself?

Let's go.

Mr jann sepp? Yes?

What do you want?

Or should I say oberleutnant sepp?

What? We want to talk to you about the war.

I don't talk to rude people who stop me in the street.

Oh, come on, now, mr sepp.

Come on, you can't get away as easily as that, you know.

He shouts after him

come on, Gerry, keep up!

Look, I need this. Vital war work. Huh?

Ah!

Come on, Gerry, get on!

Just hold on, Gerry!

Mr sepp!

Who are you? It's we who are asking the questions now, mr sepp.

Leave me alone. But we just want to talk!

I said leave me alone! Oh!

Now, these English tests...

Well, of course they should be introduced.

Ignorance amongst 14-year-olds is appalling.

Do you know, hardly any of them knew

that brideshead revisited was written by Evelyn waugh?

She'd be turning in her grave if she knew.

Yeah, well, er...

All authors would, sal.

I mean, George eliot, he'd be appalled, too.

Exactly. Pd James. He'd be really appalled (!)

Well, there you are. Ignorance.

Pd James is a woman, joy.

Dave laughs

all right, everyone, lady merchant's on her way up,

so no drops in the clanger department.

Has anybody heard anything from Damien?

Yeah, he rang in.

Something about the guy avoiding questions

by feigning unconsciousness.

Is this the globelink newsroom? No, it's the sistine chapel (!)

Lady Caroline. Welcome to the hotbed of news technology.

Does that girl work for you? Never seen her before.

Messenger, probably. Now, let me introduce you

to our supernovas of the newsreading family.

This is Sally smedley.

I believe we have a mutual friend in mrs Thatcher.

Well, she was a friend, dear,

but frankly, she's just an embarrassment now.

Whenever I invite her to dinner, I just stick her down the gaga end

with the Kingsley amises and the woodrow wyatts.

So, what brings you to globelink, Caroline?

I'm writing a novel set in the TV world.

But really, it's about sex

because, well, it's everyone's favourite subject, isn't it?

I find men such enigmas. How do you find them, Sally?

She finds them in transport cabins, mostly.

It seems to me that men divide into two categories -

the tarts and the virgins.

But, of course, virgins are more of a challenge.

I, er...

I expect you'd like to meet the rest of the staff.

This is our editor, George dent. Dave charnley.

I expect you'd like to see our brightly lit digital edit suite?

Not a lot. Why don't we have a coffee in your office instead?

Terrific idea. Marvellous.

Strange woman. What do you reckon?

I reckon she fancies Gus. Very strange woman.

What I don't understand is how everyone seems to know

who fancies who.

Well, it's obvious, really.

I mean, for example, the way you fancy Helen.

Oh, don't be so silly.

Me fancying Helen? Ha!

I suppose next, you're going to be telling me

that you can tell how she feels about me.

Well, I'd say she was fond of you. Really?

You do talk a load of old rubbish sometimes.

? I could have danced... ?

All I really need for the novel is lots of stuff

about the secret life of the office.

You know, the sex, jealousy, the ambition.

The hatreds and passions.

Well, I...

There's been a bit of a dispute over where the coffee machine should go.

Gus, you must be able to do better than that.

Machine beeps oh, look.

Something coming through on the fax.

I'm sorry, it's not fair, barging in on you at work.

Oh, please, not at all.

Why don't I pick your brains over dinner instead?

Er, Clinton still can't find an Attorney General

who hasn't employed illegal aliens.

How ridiculous.

If they fired everyone in britain

who had a couple of Filipino maids sleeping in the garden shed,

none of us would have a job, would we?

Boss. That artist's impression you wanted

of j Edgar hoover wearing high heels, a wig and a dress,

well, the boys in graphics say it's too confusing

cos it just looks like Margaret Thatcher.

I thought she didn't work for you.

Oh, this girl?

I thought you meant the other girl, who looks like this girl,

but doesn't work for us. Like this girl does.

Right. Well, I'll see you later, then.

Oh, yes, brilliant. Terrific, wonderful.

Joy, could you get me a glass of water?

No, you can get the other girl to do that.

You're in there, gussy. Oh, please!

That is our proprietor's wife we're talking about.

I'm sure she's devoted to sir royston.

Tell that to the Romanian basketball team.

For heaven's sake! Joy, will you please get me a drink?

Well, how about this really nice glass of apple juice?

Erm, Dave. Hm?

I was just thinking, if, as you say, Helen is fond of me,

I was wondering if it might be polite to ask her out?

Yeah, good idea. Right.

How would I go about that, then?

For goodness sake, George, you just go up to her and say,

"Helen, I think you're really great

"and would you like to go out with me?" Gotcha.

You'll be ok, you can do that, George.

Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll do that.

You couldn't just write that down, could you?

You! What are you doing here?

Just a few questions, mr sepp. Get away.

Get away from that, it has taken me four years to build!

Mm. Takes a little longer without the slave labour, 'ey, mr sepp?

What?

Jann, what is happening?

Who are these men? It's ok, mrs sepp,

we just want to talk to your husband

about him being a wanted Nazi war criminal.

Both: What?!

Oh! Oh, my dear!

Get out! Leave us alone!

You people, you are vultures, parasites.

But I'll tell you something else...

Oh!

Oh, my god!

Well, if you're not going to tell me any office scandal,

you're going to have to tell me about yourself.

Right. Well, I...

I'm a sort of hands-off overview executive

who sits at the sharp end

and interacts within the office matrix.

So you have a gift for language.

Oh, thank you. Shame it isn't English.

Do you have any pastimes or interests? Hobbies?

No, not really.

Do you have a girlfriend? Yes.

Oh, lovely girl. What's her name?

Rosie. Rosie housewine.

German name. German father. Latvian mother.

Lovely people.

Very tall.

Can we possibly have the bill, please?

Oh, yes, I suppose it is getting late.

Oh, well. Time we went to bed.

I'd give you a lift home, but I go in the opposite direction.

Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.

Bloody hell.

George, that is quite a suit.

Yes, well, I'm going to ask Helen out today,

so I thought I'd make a bit of an effort.

Flares.

Nice (!)

Morning, everyone.

Now, listen, Stalin, what is the meaning of this?

Another memo on sexual harassment? It's got nothing to do with me!

Oh, really? As an exercise in statistics,

I've compiled a list of your chat-up lines.

Tess provides us with,

"have you got any Yorkshire in you?

"Well, would you like some?"

Viv volunteers,

"if I said you had a beautiful body,

"would you let me rub up against it?"

And from Fiona we have,

"fancy a shag?"

Oh, that doesn't count, she's Australian.

I have to say, I feel Helen has a point here.

We men can be very threatening sometimes.

Morning, commanders. Oh, Gus,

lady Caroline left a message for you.

Be round at her place at nine tonight for dinner.

Thank you, joy. You mark my words, Gus,

the maid will show you in,

the lady m will be there, stark naked.

Don't be absurd!

She clearly just wants to do some more research.

Why is he so touchy?

I wouldn't kick her out of bed.

Even though she is a little old for me.

Of course she is, Henry, they've cut her umbilical cord.

And do you, Elizabeth Mary sepp,

take this man, William Henry gray, to be your lawful...

Guten tag, herr sepp!

Nervous chatter

very clever.

Pretending that you don't speak German.

How dare you!

You, who did that to my wife!

Just calm down. Get out. No violence, please, mr sepp.

Get out! Look, you're not in the gestapo now.

What's happening, dad?

Get away from my cameraman! Mum's wheelchair!

Get out!

Wheels spinning

thank you. He chuckles

ok, juanita, you can take the evening off.

I'll be out in a moment, Gus. Just in the bedroom.

Henry: 'You mark my words, Gus,

'the maid'll show you in, and lady m will be there, stark naked.'

do excuse me, I've been doing my pottery.

Do you like it? This is my bit of the flat.

Yes, it's, er... it's very nice.

Well, make yourself at home. I'll just organise some drinks.

Right.

Door shuts

music on stereo: 'Je t'aime'

music stops

brass band music

hello again.

Oh, you like brass band music too.

Yes, I find it so sexy.

Yes, well, I'll turn it off, so we can talk.

I expect your workmates teased you about coming here.

Said I was out to pull you.

Oh!

Oh, good heavens. Good heavens, no.

To be honest, I already have a lover.

Good.

Er, for you.

Good for you.

So, erm, sir royston doesn't mind?

Oh, no.

As a matter of fact, he's desperately possessive.

If he caught me with anyone, I think he'd kill us both.

A-ha.

Where is sir royston at the moment?

He's in the Soviet union buying up a couple of cheap republics.

He'll probably phone.

Did I mention how much he respects my judgement

when it comes to hiring and firing staff?

Yes, you did.

Twice.

Come here and sit with me.

Gus hums to brass band

it's all right, Gus, I'm not going to eat you.

All we're going to do is make love.

Uh! I...

I think I should tell you, I...

I do have herpes.

Oh, that's a relief.

So do I.

Helen, I think you're...

Oh, George!

Oh, I was bogged down in all these sexual harassment complaints.

Ridiculous.

All these sad, menopausal men desperately pestering women.

Deluding themselves that their advances are in some way welcomed.

Oh, I'm sorry, what was it you wanted?

Just to say night-night.

Night-night, George.

Door shuts

sorry.

Caught my flares in the door.

Come on, Gus, haven't you finished undressing?

Knock at door

you don't have to knock.

Hi.

Take that off.

And the towel.

Oh, Gus! Actually, lady Caroline...

I think we can drop the "lady" now.

Look... it's all right, Gus.

I know you haven't done this sort of thing very often.

If ever.

That's why I like you.

You see...

When it comes to sexual interfacing with the female gender group,

I've always been caution-orientated

due to ongoing problems of an adaptive nature

regarding the gooeyness factor on the physical front.

While on the emotional matrix, I... shh.

I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to.

Now...

Let's start...

With some touching.

Door opens

man: I'm back early, sweetheart.

Echoes Gus?

Gus? It's all right.

It wasn't sir royston, it was Peter, my friend I was telling you about.

Who's this one? Not another vicar.

Oh, I...

I just dreamt a naked sir royston was sitting on my head.

I think you'd better go.

Oh, thank you!

Oh, thank you so much!

That... that's ever so kind of you.

Erm...

It's been delightful.

Thank you, erm...

Thank you for having me.

Well, for not having me.

It's been a great pleasure, a great pleasure to meet you both.

At least do up your shoes.

Ah...

We must do this again sometime.

Damien hums

no.

Mr jann Andreas Thomas sepp.

No! What?

I am jann Wilhelm sepp.

I knew you would turn up.

Look.

Here.

Birth certificate,

passport,

picture of me in raf squadron,

Winston Churchill giving me distinguished flying cross.

Does this satisfy you?

Oh, right.

Well, looks like we've got the wrong one.

Oh, well.

"Oh, well"?! "Oh, well"?! You say, "oh, well"?

You put my neck in brace, my wife in wheelchair,

my daughter in lunatic asylum, and you can't say anything else?

All right.

Sorry.

I am going to kill my first man since 1943!

Jann, please. Mr sepp, you'll regret this tomorrow.

But I shall enjoy it today!

Stand your ground, Gerry, he's only bluffing.

Oh, I dunno, though.

Crack oh!

Right, what else?

Well, the sun says it's fighting this court case with the queen.

Mm, very brave,

taking on the person who basically rules the country.

Yeah, the queen doesn't stand a chance.

Are we nuking the opposition, news-busters?

Terrific. Joy?

I'm not taking any calls and, erm, if lady merchant wants me,

tell her I've had to go to Tibet on business.

Well, there's this, first traffic prosecution

using a remote-control camera.

Would you believe it? Last night, I jumped a light

and was filmed by one of those poxy things.

Oh, no. Still, what can you do, huh?

Well, nothing, of course.

Apart from reverse into the pole, knock it down and take out the film.

Marvellous technology. Japanese. Feel how light it is.

Has something happened, Damien?

Some madman attacked me and Gerry. Why?

God knows.

Completely unprovoked.

Poor Gerry needed a lot of stitches.

Fortunately, we were right next to outpatients.

Erm, joy, do you think you could phone Gerry's wife for me?

Only she tends to get hysterical

when she hears my voice on the phone.

Right, is that everything?

There is one more thing. Sexual harassment.

Oh, for god's sake.

Yes, this is absolutely ridiculous.

This sexual harassment must stop now!

I mean it, Henry!

How dare anyone in this office use their power and influence

to make sexual advances to these poor,

terrified, mesmerised,

sexually-inexperienced men!

And women!

And I hope that's clear!

Anyway, er...

Just a thought.

Big rumpus over how much tax the queen should cough up.

Yes, well, I trust they're not going to charge her taxes

on her castles and sceptres and things.

She should be allowed to claim her crowns as clothing,

her yacht as travel...

And prince Philip as office furniture.

Oh, and she should get a rebate on all that petrol she used

burning down windsor castle

because she thought Fergie was inside.

Damien, don't attempt humour,

you're not intellectually-equipped for it.

Sorry, Sally. Here, have some apple juice.

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