A Perfect State

Laura:
When is Westminster going to wake up? Stand up for us and think of our future generations? When are they going to stop giving British sperm a bad name?

Gareth:
British sperm! What kind of a remark is that?

Simon:
Very ballsy.

Gareth:
Bloody rude.

Simon:
But she does seem to be speaking for the people.

Gareth:
No no no. We speak for the people, thank you. The people don't know enough to speak for themselves, and the last thing we need is any untutored outbursts of democratic demagoguery popping up like boils on our buttocks. I think you'd better go and have a sniff around.

Simon:
Oh. All right. Where is Flatby?

Gareth:
I don't know, Simon, look at a map. They have fish, so it's probably on the coast.

Simon:
Thank you, Gareth. Most helpful.

Laura:
You should have been helping to save one of our leading fishermen.

Winston:
[laughs] Harry Patterson's a brain-dead mullet who couldn't catch crabs in a jock-strap.

[last lines]

[Flatby has just proclaimed secession from the UK]

Winston:
We'll be the laughing stock of the world.

Johnny:
We'll be rich.

Malcolm:
We'll be free.

Laura:
We'll be... different.

[first lines]

Townspeople:
[repeated chant] What do we want? Fair quotas! When do we want 'em? Right now!

Laura:
People of Europe. people of England, idiots of Whitehall. Listen to us, the people of Flatby. This is Harry Patterson, fisherman. His dad built this boat with his own hands, but guess what; the government, our government, and the deranged ding-a-lings of Brussels in ten days time are going to crush this boat to matchwood and put Harry on the scrapheap of permanent unemployment.

Laura:
I don't know why you don't get out of Flatby altogether, darling. I mean, you're educated. You're a solicitor. You can ruin people's lives anywhere.

Julie:
I'm quite happy here, thank you.

Laura:
But how can you be? Misery's the main qualification for living in Flatby-on-the-Bog. And inbreeding, of course.

Laura:
If things are so bad here, why don't you both go back to Battersea?

Laura:
Chelsea. We lived in South Chelsea, thank you.

Johnny:
Views of the river.

Deidre:
From both toilets.

Winston:
You can't blackmail me with a twenty year old affair.

Laura:
Okay! Okay! How about a two month old affair, then? You and the Honourable Daphne Borthwick.

Winston:
How the hell did you know about that?

Laura:
Suddenly the Hon. Daph starts drinking rum and coke with a cock-eyed grin on her face. I know when a woman round here's been Winstoned!

Gareth:
[dictating into a small recorder] To the Minister. Sir: With regard to your wife's request for the return of the curved cucumber to our shops. Please, could you tell the good lady that it has taken the European Community seven years and forty million pounds to make the euro-cucumber the proud, firm, straight, and upright thing it is today. Hoping this will satisfy her, I remain, etcetera.

Simon:
Hello.

Laura:
Well, if it isn't the man from the Ministry.

Julie:
What are you doing here?

Simon:
Well, once you've been beaten up, dunked in the mud and almost drowned, you grow sort of fond of a place.

Julie:
We don't like your sort here.

Laura:
Julie!

Simon:
My sort! What is my sort?

Julie:
Furtive, devious, and British.

Simon:
Well, I'm sorry, but those are the basic qualifications for the civil service.

Julie:
Watch he doesn't nick anything.

Simon:
You have a charming daughter.

[last lines]

[Laura throws Winston's golf club aside]

Laura:
Would you care to dance?

Winston:
I'd be delighted.

Laura:
[singing] Da-dum, da-dum.

Winston:
God, this brings back memories.

Laura:
I do not do it in bunkers any more.

Laura:
[holding up newspaper] They'll have to take notice of us now.

Simon:
We certainly will.

Laura:
So, what'll happen next?

Simon:
I expect there'll be a serious outbreak of interdepartmental memos as the civil service collectively wets itself.

[first lines]

Laura:
Ready? OK, Winston, the world is watching! Tits out, tummy in.

Winston:
Citizens of the Independent State of Flatby, it gives me great pride and pleasure as Mayor of Flatby to...

Julie:
Uh, no no no. Sorry, not Mayor.

Winston:
What?

Laura:
Julie, shut up.

Julie:
But he's no longer Mayor.

Winston:
[indicating chain of office] So what's this then, my bloody tonsils?

Malcolm:
She means that Mayor is an English title.

Julie:
You are now Head of the Administrative Board.

Winston:
Oh good, I'm so glad; it's nice to know who you are. It gives me great pleasure as Head of the Administrative Board of the Indepndent State of Flatby to inaugurate this border crossing and unveil this wonderful sign.

Gareth:
Simon, maybe my memory is about as reliable as a condom on a porcupine, but did you not say you had dealt with this particular boil on the buttock of our body politic?

Malcolm:
Deidre, what the hell are you doing?

Deidre:
Historic tours.

Malcolm:
But there was no battle in this playground!

Deidre:
Yes, there was; Johnny said so.

Malcolm:
But it's not the truth!

Tourist:
We didn't come here for the truth. You can go to Torquay for the truth.

Gareth:
I already have a seasoned diplomat down there; just join up with him, and let him handle everything.

Bill Jarvis M.P.:
Well, uh, well, why should I?

Gareth:
Because in life's thorny desert, sir, my man Simon Watson is known as a delicate and sensitive flower, while you are known as having all the subtlety and charm of a truck smash at a Dolly Parton concert. So...

Bill Jarvis M.P.:
Now, Winston, what do you want for your support at this afternoon's meeting? New year's honours? Nice little O.B.E., hm?

Winston:
O.B.E.? Huh. Other Buggers' Efforts.

Gareth:
Bit of grovelling poverty. That should fix the grubby little upstarts.

Simon:
But is it legal to cut off their funds?

Gareth:
Legal? Who cares! We're the government; we decide what's legal.

Simon:
We're not actually the government, Gareth. We work *for* the government.

Gareth:
Oh, really. Thank you. I'll note that down.

Simon:
And is it moral? Is it in the tradition of British fair play? We just might look like a bunch of big bullies.

Gareth:
We *are* a bunch of big bullies. We built an empire on being a bunch of big bullies. We enjoy being a bunch of big bullies. These people are traitors. In more enlightened times we would have just cut their heads off and had another cup of tea.

Simon:
I, I just feel your being a bit... mean.

Gareth:
I sincerely hope so. Now, while I conduct the practical shenanigans up here, I want you to keep up the fifth column stuff down there; undermine 'em, turn 'em against each other; nice bit of weasel work.

Simon:
Gareth, I'm not sure I really like...

Gareth:
Simon, Simon, hush hush a second. You do know that despite what they say about the civil service, your career is not exactly bomb-proof. And you do cherish and enjoy your insignificant little job, don't you.

Simon:
You really are a quite awful person.

Gareth:
Thank you, Simon. It is nice to know one's efforts don't go entirely unnoticed. Now get down there, get nasty, or get downsized.

Simon:
I do wish you'd stop all this independence nonsense.

Laura:
Why? Why the hell should we?

Simon:
Because then we could be proper friends.

Laura:
I rather doubt it. I like my friends to be vertebrates, thank you. Not spineless little newts wiggling about in a civil service pond.

Laura:
You can't spend your life sitting on the fence.

Simon:
Of course I can; I'm a civil servant. We're born with splinters in our backsides.

[first lines]

Johnny:
OK, Deidre.

Deidre:
Go on, Johnny, do it.

Johnny:
OK.

Johnny, Deidre:
Three, two, one.

Johnny:
[puts on earphones and yells into microphone] Goooood morning, Flatby!

[last lines]

Winston:
Who turned the lights off?

Bert:
Not pay the bill, Laura?

Laura:
Don't panic; it's probably just a fuse.

Deidre:
Ah, Johnny, later!

Malcolm:
There're no lights anywhere. The whole town's dark.

Laura:
I don't believe it. They've cut the power off.

Malcolm:
[about Castro] Fidel is ideologically pure.

Julie:
Even if the ideology didn't work.

Malcolm:
The ideology was fine; it was the people that didn't work.

Julie:
Oh, he should have got rid of the people,then; Stalin did.

Gareth:
Now, what's the problem?

Simon:
Well, not a problem, but I would say: 'Cave posteriorum'.

Gareth:
What?

Simon:
Look out for your backside.

Simon:
They'll take us to court to get their power back on again.

Gareth:
Which is just what we want.

Simon:
But we've been through this. If we go to court, they might get legal recognition for their independence. What's different this time?

Gareth:
This time the minister has preempted possible adverse complications by engaging in lengthy discourse with certain provincial legal representatives.

Simon:
You've bribed the judge.

Gareth:
We do not bribe. We merely conjoin in smoke-filled rooms where we float subtly suggested inferences related to life, the universe, and their future career prospects.

Simon:
Who is the poor sod?

Gareth:
Justice Derek Dimkins, who I gather is about as trustworthy as a ferret in your Y-fronts; so I want you to pop down there and make sure he doesn't wander off the path of righteousness.

Simon:
I can't interfere with the course of justice.

Gareth:
Not interference, Simon. Informed guidance.

Simon:
So am I allowed to take you out to dinner now?

Laura:
All right. But I never go all the way on a first date.

Simon:
Me neither. No-one would ever let me.

[last lines]

Laura:
Cheers, Simon.

Simon:
Cheers, Laura.

Laura:
Boy, you smell like a dead sheep.

Simon:
I'm lucky that way.

[first lines]

[the crowd is singing "We Shall Not Be Moved"]

Lucy Trent:
Tonight, the lights have gone out in Flatby. They have no electrical power, but as you can see by the crowd behind me they still have people power, and a very live current of optimism to keep the light of independence shining. Lucy Trent, News at 10, Flatby. [pause] Am I clear?

[Lucy swings round, hitting the Tramp with a roundhouse]

Tramp:
Wough.

Lucy Trent:
You revolting little man!

Malcolm:
Why couldn't people just leave us alone?

Simon:
Because you're all wrong. Because we're all British and we must stick together like... lumps in porridge. Don't you see? Europe is good for us. We'll never have to worry about our money again; the Germans'll do it for us. We don't have to catch our own fish again; the Spanish'll do it for us. We don't even need our own government; the Brussels'll do it for us.

Malcolm:
You don't believe a thing you say.

Simon:
Nonsense. I'm totally committed to a United Kingdom, a United Europe, a United Dairies.

Julie:
Did he say anything about the case?

Winston:
No.

Julie:
So, you have achieved nothing.

Winston:
Right.

Julie:
Oh God! I can't do it on my own!

Malcolm:
It's all right, Julie; I'll always be here.

Laura:
Well done, Winston. You have just pushed our legal eagle over the edge.

Winston:
Maybe if we get an outside lawyer onto it, huh?

Julie:
Don't you dare! No-one knows Flatby law better than me. I am our legal arm; I will solve this, thank you very much! Now get lost all of you! I have work to do.

Laura:
Come on.

Julie:
Out! Out! Out!

Laura:
[softly, to Winston] That was subtle, Winston.

Winston:
I thought so.

Gareth:
Where're you going?

Simon:
Flatby. The Minister suggested I go on a damage limitation visit.

Gareth:
You, why you?

Simon:
He mentioned something about employing a little charm and tact, rather than - yeah, how did he put it? "Crashing about like a Welsh lager lout at a knicker factory." Bye, Gareth.

[first lines]

Newsreader:
Following Flatby's historic victory in the courts yesterday, the people of the newly independent state declared today a public holiday, and held a street party. No arrests were made. This is Corbet Thomas for the Lunchtime News.

Deidre:
Good morning, Flatby. This is the Deidre hour. Today I want to talk about public morality. I'm afraid we are becoming like Sodom and Gomorrah, and we know what happened in those two Irish towns.

[last lines]

Winston:
Citizens of Flatby. By the powers vested in me I'd like to present this key of the town to our first natural-born citizen.

[applause]

Sally:
Thank you, thank you.

Laura:
What's his name?

Sally:
Oh, yes! Well, in recognition of his place in Flatby history, I have named him after the gallant men of our first cabinet. He is Winston Johnny Malcolm Bertrand Palmer.

[applause]

Sally:
He will be known as Bert.

Laura:
[to Simon] Flatby's first citizen. Another little bastard.

Simon:
You're not taking this a touch personally, are you?

Gareth:
Me? Taking it personally? My knighthood is history. My ulcer has developed ulcers of its own, and the Prime Minister has deliberately kicked my bicycle, and you think I'm taking this personally? Now, why would you think that?

Simon:
Wild guess?

Gareth:
Well, you're wrong.

Deidre:
How can we promote this place as a Monaco-style tax haven when we have government ministers driving around in crapped-out Allegros?

Winston:
Deidre, I am Head of State: a man of consequence, dignity and a seven handicap. I do not deal with motoring or littering offences.

Deidre:
So who does then?

Winston:
Try the Minister of Justice.

Deidre:
It's her damn car.

Winston:
Then try the new chief of police.

Deidre:
Well, Johnny says he's a communist and he doesn't believe in property.

Winston:
Deidre, why don't you form a vigilante group and anyone you don't like you can hang from the lamppost.

Deidre:
You might have a very good idea there, Winston. Thank you very much.

Winston:
[sighs] Never use irony on a fascist.

Malcolm:
I've had enough. I've absolutely had enough. See, it was the boys who took your car after all; I was right all along. But I can't run this town properly if I'm going to have you lily-livered, wishy-washy liberals interfering all the time. So, I'm tendering my resignation.

Winston:
Accepted.

Malcolm:
Now, I know you want me to stay.

Laura:
No, we don't.

Malcolm:
But my mind is made - What?

Julie:
Your resignation has been accepted.

Malcolm:
Why? What's wrong with me?

Laura:
We've already replaced you.

P.C. Bill:
Hello, Malcolm.

Malcolm:
But he's a policeman.

Laura:
Yes, we thought that was a reasonable qualification for the job of policeman.

Malcolm:
Oh, I see.

Julie:
You were very good, Malcolm, but maybe teaching is your true vocation.

Malcolm:
Hmm, yes. Well, maybe you're right. Probably does need some sort of jack-booted fascist git to run things properly. Welcome back, Bill. Evening, all.

[first lines]

Johnny:
Good morning, Flatby! This is your DJ and estate agent, Johnny 'Wildman' Pearce, on Radio Free Flatby, seven eight four six FM inviting you to a free tour of our independent state where the property prices are a real steal for those who get in quick.

[last lines]

Laura:
Rule Britannia, Mr. Ambassador. Oh, cheer up!

Johnny:
If we want to attract the rich investors we've got to have a stable society, which means if anyone steps out of line they must realize they're going to feel the firm but fair fist of the law smashing their teeth in.

Laura:
It's not my problem, it's his. He never makes a move.

Deidre:
So kick-start him then!

Laura:
How?

Deidre:
Give him a hint; let him know you're interested. That's what I had to do with Johnny.

Laura:
Really?

Deidre:
Oh, yeah! If I hadn't broken into his flat, thrown his girlfriend out the window and tied him to his bed for three days, he'd never have known I fancied him.

Laura:
But that gave him a clue, did it?

Deidre:
I think he got the message.

Gareth:
[on the telephone] How are things down at Customs and Excise? VAT lads still gouging eyeballs and eating babies, are they?

Gareth:
No, actually. I want to do *you* a favour. I discovered a whole nest of very naughty people; duty evaders by the thousand. Thought you'd like to set your little Rottweilers onto their nether regions.

Gareth:
Yes, life is fun, isn't it?

Simon:
What did you think you were doing?

Gareth:
I thought I was talking to myself, for God's sake!

Simon:
Oh! "Will no-one rid me of this turbulent priest," eh?

Gareth:
What?

Simon:
Henry the Second re Thomas ? Becket. Blokes overheard Henry and dashed off and killed Thomas. Henry was very cut up. Not as much as Thomas, of course-

Gareth:
Yes, yes, thanks for pointing out the subtle parallel.

Winston:
Good morning, Mr. Ambassador. Now, we would like an explanation of your unprovoked military incursion into our territory.

Simon:
Her Majesty's Government would like to issue a formal and unconditional apology for the incursion which was due to a... um...

Laura:
Cock-up?

Simon:
Clerical error. But thanks for the offer.