AJB presents William Shakespeare's James Bond in...



  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 31,538Chief of Staff
    Never Say Mango Again Part Two

    Act 3, Scene 1. The throne room of Sir Gareth Mallory.

    Sir Mallory: A new number thou wilt have to be assigned, Sir James, since we have a new Naught Naught Seven.
    Sir James: Humph... Aye...
    Sir Mallory: Maid Moneypenny, have you found ye new number?
    Maid Moneypenny: Well, Number 24 is vacant…
    Sir James: I believe he is.... most of ye time.
    Sir Mallory: Aye, we have all noticed that.
    Maid Moneypenny: With the recent retirement of Sir Lou Bega, Mambo number 5 is available.
    Sir Mallory: That band of knights posing as troubadours... um… Maroon 5?
    Sir James: They hath become more successful as balladeers, so have left her Majesty’s Secret Service.
    Maid Moneypenny: ...but I think... Oh it was on the tip of my tongue a moment ago... 69 would be more appropriate.
    William of Tanner: Or, as Sir James has been known to call it, "dinner for two".
    Sir James: Please, don't give me any lip about it.
    Sir Mallory: Tanner, tell Naught Naught Seven to join us.
    William of Tanner: Aye, mine liege.
    (Exit William of Tanner.)
    Sir Mallory: It is to be hoped that thou art fit for service, 69.
    Sir James: Of course, mine liege. I have been on a strict diet with much exercise. Although I'm sure given my new number, I'll soon be licked into shape?
    Maid Moneypenny: Of thine form of exercise I have no doubt, Naught Naught- I mean 69.
    Sir James: Well, among other things.
    (William of Tanner enters, accompanied by a tall distinguished lady.)
    Sir Mallory: Now, Naught Naught Seven...
    Sir James: Aye, mine liege?
    Sir Mallory: Not you. (Sir James quietly fumes.) Naught Naught Seven, meet 69.
    Naught Naught Seven: Most pleased I am to meet thee, 69.
    Sir James: And I to meet thee, Naught Nau... Naught Naught Sev... (Ye words "Naught Naught Seven" stick in his throat.) You may have my number, you can take my name, but you’ll never have my......
    Naught Naught Seven: Oh, I may have "that" too, until then just call me Lashana.
    Sir Mallory: Now 69, please follow Naught Naught Seven and she willst reveal unto you our many new and improved ways of serving Her Majesty.
    (Exit 69 and Naught Naught Seven.)

    (Ye exterior courtyard of a castle, where many knights are jousting.)
    Lady Lashana: Much has changed Sir James since your time. Or ye Old Days as we know them.
    Sir James: So I've heard, no more "Man Talk" lines, or legions of bikini clad maidens sitting around a pool for no reason.
    (Two knights pass by talking, one sketching on a parchment.)
    Sir Tom: ....and this was where Naught Naught Seven was trained, that post was the very one ye Old Wizard threw his bolas around.
    Sir Chris: I’ll just quickly get a sketch of it. (He moves towards the Lady Lashana.) Pardon mistress, but could you take a quick sketch of us beside this post, so we can post it or "Upload it " to the town notice board, for our followers to see?
    Lady Lashana: Oh how marvellous, is it the one beside that oddly shaped pipe?
    Sir Tom & Sir Chris: Aye, on U-Tube!

    (Lady Lashana leads Sir James to a table full of weapons.)
    Sir James: (Picking up a knife.) Is this a dagger which I see before me? And is this the cutting edge equipment you speak of?
    (Without looking he throws it at a target, hitting the bullseye.)
    Lady Lashana: Impressive, but there was actually poison hidden in its handle....
    (She too throws a knife, which also hits the bullseye.)
    Sir James: Lucky shot! Are you as good with something... longer?
    Lady Lashana: Oh my Sir James, what did you have in mind? And just what are you concealing in those hose... or are you just pleased to to see me?
    Sir James: That be'eth my short sword, for stealthy sword play.
    (From under her garments, a sword appears in Lady Lashana's hand.)
    Lady Lashana: Mine’s bigger.
    Sir James: Size isn't important, it's what you do with it.
    (They begin to fight, each countering ye others moves.)
    Lady Lashana: There are those that say Sir James is most dangerous with his hand around a shaft............ of a weapon.
    Sir James: Don't believe all you've read on the privy walls m’lady, be careful thee doth not injure one's pretty nails on so sharp a blade.
    Lady Lashana: I think ye shall find my tongue will be sharp enough to injure thee!
    (They continue to fight matching each others attacks and counter moves ending with both with a sword blade to their throat.)
    Sir James: Let’s have no more cutting remarks.
    Lady Lashana: I knew you were a sharp one Sir James. and to the point, it seems.
    Sir James: What say you, we call ourselves equals and partake of some mead and a white wine for the lady? Many of my lady acquaintances have also claimed to be equal to me.
    Lady Lashana: I too enjoy a tankard of mead, shaken or stirred, care to join me?
    Sir James: Good to see my successor is keeping up some of the old ways.
    (They call over a young knight dressed in a white tunic with a trained black bat on his collar and a selection of meads in small caskets on a belt.)
    Young Calvin: Good evening, Mr Bond fans.
    Sir James: Two meads that are shaken not stirred, my good man.
    Young Calvin: My top ten meads are always on me, starting with the 62 and 63, but it wasn't until the 64 that they got the mix right and it became the archetypal version. Which was remade several times.
    Sir James: Thank you but just the two meads that be'eth shaken not stirred.
    (Young Calvin pours the drinks, then hurries away when his trained bat flies off.)

    (Later, in ye chamber of Maid Moneypenny, where she ist chatting with Lady Lashana.)
    Maid Moneypenny: …. five times! ‘Twas incredible!
    Lady Lashana: So! There may be a lot more to him than I had expected.
    Maid Moneypenny: Oh, indeed, I believe the expression ist “well hu-
    (Enter ye Prince of Wales.)
    Lady Lashana: Mine liege!
    Prince of Wales: I prithee, fair maidens, please do not let me interrupt. What were thee talking about?
    Maid Moneypenny: ...er… we were just admiring ye new portrait of Dame Miles which has been hung open mine wall.
    Lady Lashana: Aye… er… it hath been well hung.
    (Maid Moneypenny looks at her feet, unable to look Lady Lashana in ye eye.)
    Prince of Wales: Let me see… hmm, it doth bear a resemblance to one of mine ancestors. Or more, methinks. However, I must see thine liege.
    Maid Moneypenny: He ist in ye courtyard, sire, with Sir James.

    (Ye courtyard. Enter Sir Mallory followed by Sir James. They approach an Italian broccoli seller, aided by his children.)
    Sir Mallory: Make hast there, make haste I say for the approaching Prince, Albert.
    Albert: An approaching Prince Albert?
    (Sir James looks embarrassed.)
    Sir James: Damnation, these be’eth the thickest tights I have...
    Albert: I shalt be on my way, sire. Come this way, Michael and Barbara. (Exits.)
    Sir Mallory: Look Sir James: here comes ye Prince of Wales. Or as he’s sometimes known in the colonies, ye Prince of Whales.
    Sir James: There must be some porpoise to that.
    Sir Mallory: Behave thineself, 69!
    (Enter ye Prince of Wales.)
    Sir James and Sir Mallory: Mine liege. (They bow).
    Prince of Wales: Sir James, that is a nice suit of armour thou wearest. Is it a Prince of Wales check?
    Sir James: Aye, ‘tis indeed a Prince of Wales, mine liege ye Prince of Wales. And thine armour?
    Prince of Wales: Nay, Sir James and Sir Mallory. Please, call me Bonnie Prince Charlie. (Turning to the scene before him.) ‘Tis quite the collection of chariots thou hast.
    Sir Mallory: Aye, Bonnie... um mine liege. One of these was formerly raced by another Prince of Wales, Lord Timothy. It has not been seen living in the light of day since.
    Sir James: And the other, mine liege, was first driven by another kin to Bonnie Prince Charlie, though ‘twas reported to have perished in the highlands when the heavens fell. It hath since rebuilt by our Wizard.
    Sir Mallory: Speaking of which, I must go see him about a task he hath been given.

    (Ye chamber of ye Young Wizard. Sir Mallory stands behind ye Young Wizard, who is working on his potions.....)
    Sir Mallory: What progress hath thee made on opening the abattoir doors? We doth need the information hidden behind those bloody doors!
    Young Wizard: Please, no need for the strong language sire.
    Sir Mallory: Thee needs to work on thine image, some find you less manly...
    Young Wizard: I hath taken up cage fighting and rock climbing.
    Sir Mallory: Um? Verily, butch indeed.
    (Ye Young Wizard attaches a small barrel to the doors and lights the fuse, quickly running back to Sir Mallory to hide behind a large desk....... There is a very large explosion!!! ....... Which destroys most of the side of the chamber. Sir Mallory and ye Young Wizard rise with soot covered faces.)
    Sir Mallory: Think ya used enough gunpowder there Butch! ...... You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!!
    (Ye Young Wizard runs towards the damaged area...)
    Young Wizard: Look here Sir Mallory, some of the parchments have survived.

    (Later in ye throne room of Sir Mallory.)
    Sir Mallory: It is my plan to send the two of you to find the missing alchemist. Lord Fahrenheit, also known by the code cypher "Important Missing Alchemist". Suspicion has fallen upon a rich scoundrel called Sir Malik Mercury. Naught Naught Seven, hast thou found out anything about him yet?
    Lady Lashana: He likes long walks in ye forest, ye poetry of Christopher Marlowe, needlepoint of cute kittens, paintings by Nicholas Hilliard and sketching his meals to post to friends.
    Sir Mallory: Hath he many friends?
    Lady Lashana: Although a public figure he hath many private parts, which he exposes only occasionally.
    Sir Mallory: Have you seen his private parts?
    Lady Lashana: Nay, he has a tight circle of friends which I've tried to join, bending over backwards but alas, I was unable to penetrate his intimate circle.
    Sir Mallory: Mayhap the two of you together might be able to. He is at present in Italy, and mine informants tell me he is leaning towards Pisa.
    Sir James: Ah, ye birthplace of Galileo.
    William of Tanner: Galileo?
    Sir James: Galileo.
    All: Magnifico!
    Lady Lashana: We shalt depart for there at once.

    Act 3, Scene 2. Sir James and Lady Lashana meet Lord Felix outside.

    Sir James: So, to Italy we are bound. Art thou travelling with us, Lord Felix?
    Lord Felix: But of course. Alas, mine chariot remains in Jamaica… or possibly Cuba.
    Lady Lashana: ‘Tis no problem, ye Young Wizard hath furnished me with transport- this way!
    (Lady Lashana leads Sir James and Lord Felix to a magnificent chariot, fashioned by ye DB5th Earl of Aston and ye Viscount Martin.)
    Lord Felix: Most impressive.
    Lady Lashana: Aye, ye Young Wizard always reserves his best for Naught Naught Seven.
    Sir James: ….aye… ‘tis so… :#
    (They enter ye chariot and set off through ye streets of London, heading for ye port of Dover.)
    Lady Lashana: ‘Twill not take us long, if we avoid ye M25.
    Lord Felix: Ye streets seems unusually busy.
    Sir James: Hast thou not heard? One of ye Royal Princesses hast given birth to a new Prince.
    (Crowds flock ye streets, waving flags. A band sings “Good Morning London Town.)
    Sir James: Take heed, milady, watch out for yon man with green-
    Sir James: … trainers.
    Lady Lashana: What?
    Sir James: Never mind.

    (They arrive at Dover and head to ye docks where they art met by a steward.)
    Lord Felix: I believe this is our boat, here.
    Steward: Thine documents of travel, I prithee.
    (Sir James and Lady Lashana art guided aboard immediately, but Lord Felix ist delayed while ye stewards examine his documents and likeness, assess his history, take his shoe size, etc, before allowing him to embark.)
    Lord Felix: What a rigorous ritual... eh ..... Steward Windrush?
    Sir James: ‘Tis because though art from ye Colonies, mine friend, whilst Lady Lashana and myself art part of Europe.
    Lord Felix: Only for ye moment, Sir James, only for ye moment. Thou had better get used to more difficult travel in ye future.
    Sir James: But mine travel documents will be of a beautiful blue colour.
    Lady Lashana: Here, Sir James, have some coconut.
    Sir James: (Suspiciously.) Looks like mango to me.
    Lady Lashana: Nay, 'tis definitely a coconut.
    Sir James: Now listen lady, I've had my hands on many mangos and.....
    Lady Lashana: Humph! I've had my hands on many nuts and that is definitely a coconut!
    Sir James: Look, a mango is red, longish and soft.
    Lady Lashana: Sir James, in my hands nothing stays... soft.
    Sir James: Well, if thou say'est so...
    Lady Lashana: Let us find our cabins… ah, here we are. I shalt be in this chamber here, whilst thee and Lord Felix shalt share ye chamber yonder.
    Sir James: (Disappointed.) I had anticipated… alternative arrangements.
    Lady Lashana: No doubt, 69.
    Lord Felix: (Aside.) I can bet Sir James was thinking of a ..69...
    Sir James: (Heading to ye chamber.) I hope thou does not snore, Felix.
    Lord Felix: A nightcap?
    Sir James: Nay, I don't wear one.

    (Next morning, at sea. Sir James walks ye deck, to be joined by Lord Felix.)
    Lord Felix: ‘Tis my feeling thou art not too happy about this lady bearing thine number, Sir James.
    Sir James: Really? Whatever gave you that idea?
    Lord Felix: Oh, just a wild guess.
    (Sir James's eye twitches, and he crushes the empty tankard in his hand.)
    Sir James: For many years I have been Naught Naught Seven. ‘Tis part of mine identity. It doth cause me great distress to see another with that designation.
    Lord Felix: And yet, I would have thought 69 to be right in thine, er, ballpark.
    (They art joined by Lady Lashana.)
    Lady Lashana: It’s a beautiful day! I see you've both been exercising, have you the Quoits?
    Sir James: Nay, no problems there since I last had the island beans, but aye- t'is a lovely day, made in heaven.
    Lord Felix: Look yonder, another ship doth approach us.
    Lady Lashana: Mayhap they just wish to say hello?
    Sir James: I fear not- they art on an attack course, and look at her colours, ye dreaded black flag with crossed green footwear...!
    Lord Felix: Buccaneers?
    Sir James: Nay, far worse- Brexiteers!!!

    (Ye other ship sails straight to theirs, close enough for them to read “HMS Wandering Higgins” painted on its side. A voice ist heard.)
    Voice: Ahoy, Europe lovers! Stand by to be boarded! ... Waaa... wiff waff .... way hay!!!
    Sir James: ‘Tis their dreaded leader, Cap’n Boris!
    Lord Felix: I thought their leader was Cap’n Theresa?
    Sir James: Nay, she keeps herself well hidden these days.
    Lady Lashana: And what of her opponent, Jolly Jeremy?
    Sir James: Mayhap one day he will be of use but meantime we must fight! Look, Cap'n Theresa has painted some red lines, so they'll soon be crossing them!
    Lord Felix: Look in that little dinghy behind, is that who I think it is?
    Sir James: Cry havoc Lord Felix, 'tis the most dreaded of all Brexiteers, the ferocious Farage!! Quick, to arms!
    (Hordes of Brexiteers board their vessel. Crying “Majority rules!” they assail ye passengers and crew. Sir James beats them off with his sword. Lord Felix mans a cannon and blows holes in their ship. Lady Lashana lynches their leaders. Someone throws a milkshake. Eventually ye Brexiteers are beaten back and sail away.)

    Lord Felix: ‘Twas a close call.
    Sir James: Just like their referendum…
    Lady Lashana: Look, Italy ist ahead!
    Lord Felix: That did not take long.
    Sir James: Lord Felix, remember how we played sport, drank in the ship's tavern, did gamble in the ship's casino, swam in the pool, and danced the night away to ye Barry Manilow tribute band, had that pillow fight in the evening and you awoke next morn with your hand betwixt two pillows, but in reality t'was between my.....
    Lord Felix: (Hastily.) With vagary, I was very, very drunk at the time.
    Sir James: ....hast thou never heard of a montage?

    Act 3, Scene 3. A harbour full of people and excitement, as a galleon makes anchor. Sir James is exercising on deck.

    Lady Lashana: My, my- that's impressive, 'tis so big- but why doth it lean so?
    Sir James: Pardon M'Lady, ‘tis these damn hose, they're too light to... Oh I see thee doth speak of the tower that leans.
    Lady Lashana: Aye.
    Sir James: ‘Twas built by Egyptian builders!
    (Enter Lord Felix.)
    Lord Felix: I hath made arrangements for us to travel onwards. Our Italian cousins hath been very helpful, and Lady Caruso sends you her compliments Sir James.
    Sir James: (Aside.) Um... see nipples and die......
    Lord Felix: I think the quote be'eth “see Naples and die”.
    Sir James: You look at what you want to, Lord Felix.
    Lady Lashana: I say we pack and get ready with haste to leave.
    (Later on the docks a carriage is laden down with trunks and cases.)
    Lord Felix: Why doth thee need so much luggage?
    Lady Lashana: Um, I too had thoughts like this?
    Sir James: I must always carry my safari suits, tuxedos, both with black and white jackets, my collection of Sir Tom Ford doublets and hose .... the list is endless.
    Lady Lashana: But this stuffed donkey in a sombrero?
    Sir James: A souvenir... something indicative of the people and their culture.
    Lady Lashana: (Aside to Lord Felix.) Willst thou tell him, or shall I?
    Lord Felix: (Aside.) Just let him be, he ist happy.
    ((They enter ye carriage.)
    Sir James: So, Lady Lashana, ‘tis time to find Sir Malik and thou art the one most acquainted with his habits.
    Lady Lashana: ‘Tis my belief he will be found in one of ye fashionable night hostelries, holding a most glamorous party.
    Sir James: Then we must start our quest looking at many night spots.
    Lord Felix: Sounds like a pub crawl to me- so let’s get cracking!
    Sir James: Set off, driver- and watch out for that man with green trainers.
    Lord Felix: You mean the one arguing with an innocent bystander for no good reason?
    Sir James: Aye, that would be the one. (Thump.) Too late.

    (Our three heroes enter a local tavern.......)
    Lord Felix: This be the Confused Gondolier, One of the most popular taverns in the city. Has something called Pole Dancing, and is an Italian themed tavern.
    Sir James: Must be some sort of folk dancing from Poland, you know how I enjoy something indicative of the people and their culture, but these signs can be misleading. I was at a tavern once that said it featured lap dancing- judging by what I witnessed, Laplanders are very gymnastic and oddly wear very little clothing for such a cold climate! But an Italian themed tavern in Italy?
    Lady Lashana: ‘Tis the latest thing, soon all taverns in Italy will be Italian themed..... or Irish obviously.
    Sir James: As long as they have Antipodean tavern stewards, and mead, I be'eth happy. I shall approach yon bar steward.
    Lady Lashana: Language Sir James!
    Tavern Keeper: Ow ya goin’ mate, fancy a bevvie?
    Sir James: Two meads that are shaken and not stirred, and a diet Mango cocktail… or was it coconut? Be you the usual bar keeper?
    Tavern Keeper: The other fella is on a break, should be back though, he's a real diamond.
    Sir James: I'm looking for a man......
    Tavern Keeper: I don't think you're his type. (Aside.) Try Tuesday and Thursday nights.
    Sir James: I'm looking for information on......
    Tavern Keeper: Surely you must know how? You just push your....
    Sir James: Nay, you misunderstand, I hath monies to....
    Tavern Keeper: Hey, a good looking man like yourself shouldn't have to pay. Have a bit more self confidence, and a bit more self respect.
    Sir James: I'm looking for Sir Malik...
    Tavern Keeper: Bloody hell cobber, you’re shooting a bit out of your league there. He's gorgeous!
    Sir James: Have you had him in lately...
    Tavern Keeper: How dare you just because I serve drinks you think I'll sleep with anyone!
    Sir James: Pardon, where might I meet him?
    Tavern Keeper: Oh, try the Hammer- it be'eth a tavern and dancing club two streets across. Poached many of our customers. I had hoped instead of getting successful it would fall... But I've given up on waiting for the hammer to fall.
    Sir James: (Pushes a bag of coins across.) Thank you, at last a lead!
    Tavern Keeper: A lead? Well if you enjoy leads, chains and collars , there is a cellar....
    Sir James: How very dare you sir! .… (Aside.) Pray tell, which night doth it open?
    Lord Felix: I see you've got the libations, Sir James.
    Sir James: Nay, this just the bulge of my coin purse, Now we must make haste Lord Felix, we could be having an audience with Sir Malik.
    Lady Lashana: Then let us quickly neck these, and get moving.
    (They drink quickly and depart the tavern.)
    Tavern Keeper: This never happened to the other fella….

    Act 3, Scene 4. Sir James, Lady Lashana and Lord Felix arrive at the Hammer, a tavern in ye shadow of the famous Tower of Pisa.

    Lady Lashana: Now, is everyone clear about our plan?
    Sir James: But of course. Lord Felix and I shalt have a few drinks at ye bar, whilst thou do find out where Sir Malik Mercury is to be found. I shalt then challenge him to whichever game he is playing, defeat him effortlessly, and depart with the beautiful maiden who had been sitting with him.
    Lord Felix: Art thou sure that will work, Sir James?
    Sir James: Well, it has worked twenty-four times previously….
    Lady Lashana: I think mine plan ist better. I shalt encourage him to come away with me to a place of solitude, where both of thee shalt be waiting.
    Sir James: Well, we shalt see how it goes.
    (They enter ye establishment. The tavern is full of smoke, music and excitement. A band play "Good Morning Pisa Town".)
    Lord Felix; 'Tis a den of iniquity, full of the lowest knaves of the kingdom. A wretched hive of scum and villainy.
    Passing Lady: Why, greetings Lord Felix, art thou back for ...
    Lord Felix: Begone, strange woman, whom I hath never met before!
    Sir James: Hey, not so fast Lord Felix, I might have at least have gotten her calling card.
    Lady Lashana: Try the notice by the wheel at ye pawn shop.
    Sir James: Ah yes- Pawn Hub.
    Lord Felix: Any sign of Sir Malik?
    Lady Lashana: I do believe that is he over there, at a gaming table.
    Sir James: That be’eth amazing, do ye have second sight?
    Lady Lashana: Nay, one vision. He looks to be playing chemin de fer.
    Lord Felix: Not poker, then?
    Sir James: I cannot see what he's sitting on! ..... Oh, poker? Nay, not this time.
    Lord Felix: I hope your card skills are as good as when you played those two Serbians?
    Sir James: Aye, that was indeed a game of two Slavs. Now I shall away.
    (Sir James sits at ye gaming table and calls for chips. After some misunderstanding involving deep-fried potatoes, he is able to play.)
    Sir James: Banco.
    (Across the table sits Sir Malik Mercury, accompanied by a stunningly beautiful young maiden.)
    Sir Malik: Ah, a new player. May I be permitted to know thine name?
    Sir James: I am he who is called Bond, James Bond.
    Sir Malik: Doubtless thou knowest mine identity. And this ist Paloma.
    Paloma: Most pleased to meet thee, good sir.
    Sir James: And I thee. Come, let us play!
    (Lady Lashana sits next to Sir Malik.)
    Lady Lashana: Tell me, how ist it that thou do seem to win so frequently?
    Sir Malik: It's a kind of magic.
    Sir James: Well, now I'm here.
    (Ye cards are dealt, and Sir James wins.)
    Sir Malik: So! Shall we play again?
    Sir James: Aye, the show must go on.
    (After a montage of card play, Sir James looks to be losing...)
    Sir Malik: ‘Twould seem I'm too good for you, Sir James.
    Sir James: Then why don't we change the game, and the stakes?
    Sir Malik: Hath thee something in mind?
    Sir James: Aye, ‘tis all the rage at court- snap!
    Sir Malik: Indeed a game of great skill. Very well, we shall play- after all these are the days of our lives, and the nights of.…?
    (They begin to play..... another montage of cards on table, and hands reaching for chips...)
    Sir James: Lord Felix, come join our revelry, and bring mead that is shaken not stirred.
    Lord Felix: You are in good spirits Sir James, has luck been a lady tonight?
    Sir James: Aye... Sir Malik, has thine cod piece slipped?
    (Sir Malik looks down for a second as Sir James slaps a card on the pile shouting SNAP!!)
    Sir Malik: What? How? ........ You’re a bloody che......
    Lord Felix: Now Sir Malik, play the game. all ‘tis fair and above board.
    Sir Malik: Forgive me gentlemen, ‘twould seem I have lost.
    Lady Lashana: Thou seems to be out of luck this evening, Sir Malik.
    Sir Malik: Aye, ‘tis so.
    Lady Lashana: Mayhap I could change that for thee?
    Sir Malik: I thank’ee, sweet lady, but I prefer to play the game.
    Sir James: Then shall we... double the stakes?
    Sir Malik: I have no objection.
    Lord Felix: Take care, Sir James.
    Sir James: Oh, ‘tis super easy- barely an inconvenience.
    (They play, and Sir James wins again.)
    Sir Malik: Thou surely hast a talent for this game, Sir James.
    Sir James: ‘Tis merely one of many.
    Sir Malik: Mayhap we shalt find out if that ist true, later. Come, let us drink together.
    (Sir Malik heads for the bar, with Paloma on his arm. Sir James heads there too.)
    Lady Lashana: (Aside to Lord Felix.) Should I go too?
    Lord Felix: Nay, methinks Sir James ist more his cup of tea.
    (They arrive at the bar, but wirh Sir James now on Sir Maliks arm...)
    Sir Malik: Well, here we are.
    Paloma: Of thee I have heard, Sir James, thou hast fine testimonials.
    Sir James: ‘Tis these tights again, I must find a thicker denier.
    Sir Malik; What would thou drink, mine friend? I willst have ye finest champagne in ye house!
    Paloma: And for me, too.
    Sir James: I willst have mead- let it shaken be, and not stirred.
    Sir Malik : And some nibbles- tell me Sir James doth thee enjoy oysters or snails?
    Sir James: To be honest, I'm more a large frankfurter guy. Nearly choked on a big one but I manage to swallow quite a lot!
    Sir Malik: (Wide-eyed) ....Now that I would'st like to see......
    (A steward approaches.)
    Steward: Thine pardon, Sir Malik, but a message hast come for thee.
    Sir Malik: Excuse me a moment, Sir James, I am sure that Paloma will keep thee entertained. (Exits.)
    Sir James: Hast thou known Sir Malik long?
    Paloma: Nay, not long. I met him one night at the opera.
    Sir James: Followed by a day at ye races?
    Paloma: Nay, we didst go to Norway or some such place. ‘Twas hard to tell.
    Sir James: Hmm, Norway, eh?
    (Lord Felix, grabs Sir James by the arm.)
    Lord Felix: Take notice, Sir James, yon lady sitting across there- is she not ..... er, June Bride ?... April Showers ? ...... March Hare? August Bank Holiday?
    Sir James: Nay, though she hath a strong resemblance to...........
    (They grow silent as Lady Lashana approaches.)

    (In a room off ye tavern, Sir Malik talks to three men.)
    Sir Malik: Tell me, I prithee, what hast thou found out about our new friend?
    Brian: (Tall, with much curly hair.) He ist Sir James Bond, an agent of discretion sent from Albion.
    Roger: (Shorter, blond hair.) ‘Tis said that he ist licenced to kill, and bears ye number 69.
    (Ye third man, John, merely nods silently.)
    Sir Malik: So! Methinks he should be dispatched with much haste- action this day!
    Brian: Aye, we shalt give him the works.
    Roger: We will not let him go.
    Sir Malik: Wait until he ist outside- no scandal, we do not want this to be ye news of the world.

    (At ye bar.)
    Sir James: So, where art thou off to next?
    Paloma: Sir Malik hath not told me. In truth, I do tire of not being in his confidence.
    Sir James: Paloma ...
    Paloma: Faith tells me he may never let me probe his inner circle.
    Sir James: Mayhap thou would prefer to come with me?... and probe away?
    Paloma: Aye, mayhap. Ye look like a gentleman.
    Sir James: Lo, Sir Malik doth approach- come with me, apace.

    (Sir James leads Paloma quickly to ye door, joined by Lord Felix and Lady Lashana. Sir Malik sends a signal to Roger, Brian and John who follow them outside and throw large nuts at them...)
    Lord Felix: They're nuts Sir James!
    Sir James: Aye, they should "Pecan" someone their own size.
    (Lord Felix looks sternly at Sir James.)
    Lord Felix: Apace, this way!
    Sir James: Come, Paloma!
    (They run down an alley, but trip over a pile of unused play scripts. Some are labelled “Purvis/Wade”, some “Hodge”, and so forth. They are set on by Sir Malik’s bandmates… er, henchmen...)
    Lady Lashana: Here Sir James, crouch down behind this pile of naughty Nanny parchments.
    Sir James: Nay, we must keep moving!
    (Ye backing band of knaves push at the parchments causing them to Topol over crushing the Lady Lashana!)
    Knaves: Too much love will kill you!
    Sir James: Lashana…
    Lord Felix: No time to grieve, Sir James, this way!
    (Lord Felix helps a limping Sir James to his feet, with Paloma on his arm, and they make their escape.)
    Paloma: How ist thine ankle, Sir James?
    Sir James: Most painful- I fear I may be out of commission for about two weeks.
    Paloma: Fortnight?
    Sir James: No time for games, Paloma.
    Lord Felix: That is true, they are gaining on us- we must find a chariot or horses and fast!
    Paloma: Lo, over there!
    (Paloma points at a rickshaw leaning against a wall ahead.)
    Sir James: A rickshaw? But ‘tis not possible, mine ankle…
    Lord Felix: And I have suddenly remembered that I have a hook for one hand, and only one leg.
    Paloma: Two Chinese drivers are sitting upon it, I shall go over and pull them off.
    Sir james: Nay, Paloma- a bribe of coins should suffice, surely.
    Paloma: No matter- get in, and apace!
    (Paloma runs across and pulls the two drivers to the ground, as she also scares some horses away by showing a sign "Charcutier, opening soon". They stampede towards their pursuers, as Sir James and Lord Felix leap into ye rickshaw.)
    Paloma: I must now grab the shafts.
    Sir James: No time now Paloma..... later perhaps?
    (Paloma begins to run, so fast that smoke pours from the rickshaw wheels just as Roger, Brian and John draw near.)
    Roger: They are getting away!
    Brian: Quick, after them!
    John: ........................................
    (They enter a barn , quickly smashing through the doors as they exit, with John in harness pulling the small carriage.)
    Brian: He may not say much but he’s very strong.
    Roger: Aye, he ist the base of our whole band.
    Brian: Lets see how they like this! (He throws a small axe at Sir James, it buries itself beside Lord Felix.)
    Lord Felix: Um, he's talented with his axe!
    Sir James: Paloma, watch out for that man with green trainers busy flogging a dead horse..... again!
    Paloma: What?
    Sir James: I said, watch out for- (There is a thump, followed by a squashing sound and then some crunching.) Never mind.
    Lord Felix: Sure I am that he shalt return.
    Sir James: No argument there.
    Lord Felix: That will be a first.
    Sir James: Aye, he will return. With one of his many dead horses to flog, as well.
    Lord Felix: Here, Sir James, have some coconut.
    Sir James: Hmm... That looks more like ma- ma- make haste, Paloma, they are gaining on us!
    (They move with haste through the cobbled streets. From a tower above the venue, Sir Malik watches while removing his garments to display a white catsuit.)
    Sir Malik: Time to play with my organ.
    (He begins to play a traditional Rhapsody to Bohemia... as the chase continues.)
    Sir James: ‘Tis amazing how strong thou art, Paloma.
    Paloma: Oh, ‘tis nothing- much practice have I had pulling all sorts of things for Sir Malik.
    Sir James: I hath my throwing knives strapped on my wrists, how be'eth you armed?
    Lord Felix: The latest from the Colonies Interesting Alchemist, a folding bow and extendable arrows.
    Sir James: Aye, the C.I.A hath many interesting toys. Paloma, a bit faster darling, they're really getting rather close.
    (They fight along the streets.)
    Paloma: Hold on, I'm turning right down Giu Strada, where the two crying soothsayers live.
    Sir James: Do they give readings?
    Paloma: Angela won't but Theresa May.
    Lord Felix: I'm bereft of arrows, we need an escape!
    Sir James: Quick Paloma, head for the coast road. I have an idea.
    (Sir James, having thrown his daggers at the pursuers, cuts down a banner saying "Pisa welcomes careful drivers” which temporarily hides their view.)
    Sir James: Paloma, could you take on both Lord Felix and myself?
    Paloma: Well maybe, if we had dinner and a few drinks, some dancing, I.....
    Sir James: Nay, on your back I mean.
    Paloma: Hm, a bit old fashioned but ..
    Sir James: Can you carry us on your back, Paloma?
    Paloma: Oh! Yes, I'm stronger than I look,
    (Quickly they jump onto Paloma who veers off, letting the rickshaw plummet over the cliff edge. It falls hitting a monk's mead still, which explodes in flames as Sir James, Lord Felix and Paloma hide in some nearby bushes.)
    Brian: Halt John!
    (John stops. Brian puts a piece of sugar in John's mouth.)
    Roger: They went right over.
    John: .................
    (From the bushes Sir James, Lord Felix and Paloma watch.)
    Sir James: With luck they'll think we'll be spending so much time filling in insurance parchments we shall not be able to pursue Sir Malik.
    Lord Felix: Perhaps Sir James, they will think us dead?
    Paloma: Be quiet, they be passing us...
    (Brian, John and Roger head away, followed only by a crying monk...... )

    Act 3, Scene 5. A boarding house. Sir James, Lord Felix and Paloma have taken rooms. They enter, Lord Felix moving to a window as Paloma arrives with Sir James still on her back....

    Sir James: Just over by the chair darling, that trip was quite fatiguing and be careful of my ankle.
    Paloma: Aye, Sir James.
    Sir James: Most fortunate we were to escape.
    Lord Felix: Aye, ‘tis true.
    Paloma: Most hungry am I- may we partake of this excellent meal that has been sent up?
    Lord Felix: Aye, the latest masterpiece from Sir Jamie Oliver- he doth call it a Pizza!
    Paloma: I shall cut it in four?
    Lord Felix: Nay, I hath much hunger, better to cut it in 8!
    Paloma: I hath heard his pizza shop is in money difficulties.
    Sir James: Fake news, Paloma, he doth just have trouble with his dough.
    Paloma: (Rolling her eyes.) How's the ankle, Sir James?
    Sir James: Fine, I don't like to complain. First, we must plan our next step.
    Lord Felix: With that ankle of yours, it must be a very careful next step.
    Sir James: Paloma, we must rely on you for knowing what Sir Malik is up to.
    Paloma: I shalt help thee all I can.
    Sir James: Good, with thee I should like to do-
    Maid Moneypenny: (From off.) 69!
    Sir James: Well, perhaps later…
    (Maid Moneypenny opens ye door, to admit Sir Mallory, William of Tanner, ye Young Wizard, Freddie, Velma, Daphne, Shaggy, a very large dog who begins to eat all of the food, and a small dog tagging along.)
    Sir Mallory: 69, most grieved I was to hear of the death of Naught Naught Seven.
    Sir James: Aye, though ‘twas in ye line of duty.
    Sir Mallory: No bad puns, no wine snobbery, no safari suits.... she had it all.
    William of Tanner: ‘Twould seem, mine liege, that thou hast no alternative but to give 69 his old number once again.
    Sir Mallory: Aye, 'tis true.
    Sir James: You mean…?
    Sir Mallory: Welcome back, Naught Naught Seven.
    Sir James: Thank you sire! (Pause.).... I still get the dental and pension entitlements?
    Sir Mallory: We can discuss that later. Still, welcome back.
    Sir James: With mine injured ankle, perhaps a blue badge, so I can park my carriage closer...
    Sir Mallory: As I said, later! Thou art Naught Naught Seven again.
    (Sir James glows with pride as he stands erect, stretching to his full 5'9" before falling down yelling and cursing, grabbing at his sore ankle.)
    Sir James: (Aside.) Oh, to get back into my special shoes, to be 6' once more!

    Sir Mallory: Thou hast not had much success in finding ye alchemist, it must be said.
    Sir James: Aye, ‘tis true, mine liege, but I do believe that the key lies with this fair maiden- Paloma, we were discussing Sir Malik.
    Paloma: I didst hear talk of a great castle, in Norway.
    Sir Mallory: Then to Norway thou must set sail. Maid Moneypenny, see to travel for Naught Naught Seven and his allies.
    Maid Moneypenny: But of course, sire. Three single cabins on ye next boat I shalt arrange.
    Sir James: Efficient as ever, I see.
    Paloma: ‘Twas a castle overlooking one of ye fjords.
    Lord Felix: I shalt contact mine superiors for further information.
    Young Wizard: But first, Naught Naught Seven, thine attention I crave. Behold, this ring! Inside the jewel, it contains a magic potion.
    Sir James: A poison, I wager?
    Young Wizard: Rather the opposite. The potion counters the ill effects of Smalahove, a vile tradition in Norway.
    Sir James: A Norwegian poison. I thought the Norsemen only murder in plays and scriptures, and tax each other instead?
    Young Wizard: The Norsemen have built a tolerance to it to such a degree it's considered a meal, not a poison. Thou will struggle to avoid it. If you are forced to digest it you must use this potion to save thy health and sanity. Here also I have a pair of skis, inside which a sail ist cleverly hidden to be deployed should thee find thineself skiing over ye edge of a cliff.
    Sir James: We don’t go in for that any more.
    Lord Felix: (Aside.) More’s the pity…
    Young Wizard: Take ye this expanding elastic band, to be hidden in thine hose.
    Sir James: In case mine hose suddenly fall down?
    Young Wizard: And also I have- these!
    (Ye Young Wizard hands Naught Naught Seven two small objects.)
    Sir James: And what might these be?
    Young Wizard: Earplugs, in case Sir Malik starts singing.
    Sir James: Oh, I had heard he was rather good.
    Lord Felix: ‘Twas dubbed, Sir James.
    Sir James: I’m going slightly mad…

    Act 5, Scene 1. A ship arrives in Oslo. Sir James, Lord Felix and Paloma disembark.

    Lord Felix: I shall seek some transport for us and our luggage.
    (A street vendor approaches.)
    Vendor: Good day, gentlemen and madame! May I offer you some smalahove surprise?
    Paloma: Mmm, that looks fantastic! What's in it?
    Vendor: But then there would be no surprise, would there, madame?
    Paloma: The artistic cook has taken great pains to make the dish look like a torched sheep's head. What is it really made of?
    Vendor: The skin and fleece of the head of ye sheep is torched. The head is salted, sometimes smoked, and dried. The brain is cooked inside the skull and then eaten with a spoon or fried. The head is boiled or steamed for about three hours, and is served with mashed rutabaga and potatoes.
    Paloma: Really?
    Vendor: Yes, many foreigners are surprised to learn the recipe….
    Sir James: Er, no, thank you.
    Lord Felix: Over here! I have found a carriage.
    (Sir James and Paloma go to ye carriage.)
    Sir James: How far is it till we reach our destination?
    Lord Felix: ‘Twill take us at least a day and a night.
    Paloma: Then we must eat here before we start off.
    Sir James: ‘Tis true. We must find a place to eat… Ah, over there I see “Ye Python Cafe”. Driver, I prithee stop there- and watch out for that man with- (Thump.) Never mind.

    (They enter ye cafe. One table ist occupied by a group of Vikings with horned helmets on.
    Sir James: You sit here, dear Paloma.
    Paloma: All right.
    Lord Felix: (To waitress.) Morning!
    Waitress: Morning!
    Sir James: Well, what've you got?
    Waitress: Well, there's egg and bacon; egg sausage and bacon; egg and smalahove; egg bacon and smalahove; egg bacon sausage and smalahove; smalahove bacon sausage and smalahove; smalahove egg smalahove smalahove bacon and smalahove; smalahove sausage smalahove smalahove bacon smalahove tomato and smalahove...
    Vikings: (Starting to chant.) Smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove….
    Waitress: ...smalahove smalahove smalahove egg and smalahove; smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove baked beans smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove...
    Vikings: (Singing.) Smalahove! Lovely smalahove! Lovely smalahove!
    Waitress: ...or Lobster Thermidor au Crevette with a Mornay sauce served in a Provencale manner with shallots and aubergines garnished with truffle pate, brandy and with a fried egg on top.... and smalahove.
    Paloma: Have you got anything without smalahove?
    Waitress: Well, there's smalahove egg sausage and smalahove, that's not got much smalahove in it.
    Paloma: I don't want ANY smalahove!
    Sir James: Why can't she have egg bacon smalahove and sausage?
    Paloma: THAT'S got smalahove in it!
    Lord Felix: Hasn't got as much smalahove in it as smalahove egg sausage and smalahove, has it?
    Vikings: Smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove (Crescendo through next few lines.)
    Paloma: Could you do the egg bacon smalahove and sausage without the smalahove then?
    Waitress: Urgghh!
    Paloma: What do you mean 'Urgghh'? I don't like smalahove!
    Vikings: (Getting even louder.) Lovely smalahove! Wonderful smalahove!
    Waitress: Shut up!
    Vikings: (Really loud.) Lovely smalahove! Wonderful smalahove!
    Waitress: Shut up! (Vikings stop.) Bloody Vikings! You can't have egg bacon smalahove and sausage without the smalahove.
    Paloma: (Shrieks.) I don't like smalahove!
    Sir James: Sshh, dear, don't cause a fuss. I'll have your smalahove. I love it. I'm having smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove baked beans smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove and smalahove!
    Vikings: (Singing again.) Smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove, lovely smalahove, wonderful smalahove!
    Waitress: Shut up!! Baked beans are off.
    Sir James: Well could I have her smalahove instead of the baked beans then?
    Waitress: You mean smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove….(The Vikings begin to sing again and drown her words.)
    Vikings: (Singing elaborately.) Smalahove smalahove smalahove smalahove, lovely smalahove, wonderful smalahove! Smalahove smalahove...
    Lord Felix: Mayhap, we should find somewhere else to dine…?
    Sir James: Aye, let us find somewhere completely different.
    (They leave.)

    Act 5, Scene 2. A clifftop, looking down over a spectacular view of water and mountains. A castle lies at the foot of ye cliff.

    Sir James: So, this ist definitely the right fjord, Lord Felix?
    Lord Felix: Aye, most definitely.
    Sir James: Last time you were sure it was the right fjord we only found a widow dressed in black …. I still marvel at how snug her dress of mourning was. How canst ye be sure?
    Lord Felix: I have received a message from mine superiors, by Norse code.
    Sir James: Nothing to do with it being the last one on ye list then?
    Paloma: Look below, there art guards at ye front entrance and a firm presence at ye rear.
    Sir James: ‘Tis definitely his place then. Let us proceed carefully….

    (They begin to climb carefully down the cliff.)
    Lord Felix: ‘Tis a steep one, take care.
    Sir James: No problems, I am as sure footed as a mountain goat.
    (He promptly falls, his landing cushioned by a pile of soft snow, and finds himself outside ye castle main entrance. Brian, Roger and John look down at him.)
    Brian: Well, what have we here?
    Roger: We didst think thou wouldst… drop in.
    Sir James: I assure you, my presence here is naught but a coincidence. I was out walking my rat and I seem to have lost my way.
    Roger: Come inside, tell it to Sir Malik.
    Sir James: Why nay, I shall go on my way.
    Brian: We think it not. This way, or we shalt guide ye in by throwing these large stones here.
    Sir James: Large stones? You can not be serious..
    Brian, Roger & John: We will, we will rock you!
    (Sir James makes a run for it but ist hit by several stones and ist knocked out.)

    Act 5, Scene 3. Sir James lies unconscious on ye floor of ye throne room of Sir Malik Mercury.

    Sir James: (Waking up.) No, Felix, use thine real hand, I’ve told you about this before… (Awakes.) Ah… I see.
    Sir Malik: This is the real life, Sir James- that was just fantasy.
    Sir James: I suppose there is no use saying I just dropped in to say hello?
    Sir Malik: Nay, for thine purpose ist known to me.
    Sir James: I am but an innocent tourist.
    Sir Malik: Thou art an agent of discretion in ye service of Her Majesty, and thou art known as 69.
    Sir James: (Indignant.) No longer! I am once more Naught Naught Seven! ...er...whoops.
    Sir Malik: Indeed, and no doubt thou wishes to know what ist mine purpose here. Come this way….

    Sir Malik leads Sir James to a chamber full of strange-looking machines, with bubbling test-tubes and burning flames. A man sits working at a table, under heavy guard.

    Sir Malik: I have no doubt thou hast been set to find this man, an alchemist of great renown.
    Sir James: Aye, ‘tis so.
    Sir Malik: He hast been busy working for me in ye creation of the means by which I shalt take mine revenge upon ye world!
    Sir James: But thou hast amassed great riches, Sir Malik, by thine own hard work.
    Sir Malik: Aye, I’ve paid my dues time after time. But more do I desire! Mine fleet of ships lies hidden in this fjord, ready to strike against all ye ports in the world. Here in frozen Norway, they sit safe whilst all ye other oceans will rise in temperature, making all the wooden galleons burst into flame leaving me the only naval power in ye known world.
    Sir James: Thine alchemist ist truly a genius if he can make all ye oceans rise in temperature- by how much, may I ask?
    Sir Malik: Two hundred degrees, that’s why they call him Mr Fahrenheit.
    Sir James: And how hast thou persuaded him to join thine service?
    Sir Malik: Most simple- his daughter lies captive in another chamber. But enough! For thee, Sir James, I have planned a most amusing death...

    Act 5, Scene 4. Ye throne room of Sir Malik. Sir James ist tied to a chair.

    Sir Malik: This ist an experience thou wouldst never have had at ye hands of Sir Gareth Mallory.
    Sir James: Well, he never tied me to a chair.
    Sir Malik: His loss. Now, Sir James, thou hast perhaps noticed that this room is a cleverly-designed echo chamber. I shalt sit in another room, and thou shalt hear mine amplified singing! Amplified to a volume no human can bear.
    Sir James: Pretty much like a U2 concert then?
    Sir Malik: Nay, much more than that! I bid thee farewell, Sir James.
    (Sir Malik departs. After a moment, his amplified voice ist heard and Sir James begins to struggle. Apace, his experience allows him to wriggle out of his Bonds James Bonds).
    Sir James: Again I have to thank ye Young Wizard for his foresight.
    (Sir James uses ye earplugs provided by ye Young Wizard, and runs to ye next chamber where Lord Fahrenheit ist being held. He quickly overcomes ye guards.)
    Lord Fahrenheit: Mine saviour thou art! But free I cannot be until thou hast freed mine daughter also.
    Sir James: It’s about ten past three, I think.
    Lord Fahrenheit: Mine daughter! Thou must free mine daughter!
    Sir James: Oh, excuse me, wait a moment. (Removes ye earplugs.) What didst thou say?
    Lord Fahrenheit: Mine daughter! She ist being held captive within this castle.
    Sir James: Then find her we must.
    (Sir James searches through ye castle, defeating any guards he doth find, until discovering the daughter of Lord Fahrenheit.)
    Young Maiden: Kidnap or slay?
    Sir James: Neither- rescue!
    Young Maiden: Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?
    Sir James: Huh? I am he who is called Bond, James Bond- I'm here to rescue you!
    (They rejoin her father.)
    Lord Fahrenheit: Now we can make our escape.
    Sir James: Not quite yet…
    (He returns to ye chamber containing ye strange-looking machines, and smashes them all to pieces.)
    Sir James: And now methinks we can leave!
    (From a cleverly concealed pocket of his doublet, Sir James produces ye skis supplied by ye Young Wizard and dons them. Grabbing Lord Fahrenheit and his daughter, he leaps from a castle window. As they fall, a sail bearing ye Union Jack appears and cushions their fall. Most remarkable, since it would be another couple of centuries before ye Union Jack was created.)

    Act 5, Scene 5. Below ye castle, Lord Felix and Paloma await anxiously.

    Paloma: It hast been so long, I do hope Sir James ist all right.
    Lord Felix: Worry ye not, my dear, Sir James hast got out of tougher spots than this one: erupting volcanoes, exploding oil rigs, MGM takeovers- he always survives.
    Paloma: Look up there!
    (They look up to see Sir James carrying Lord Fahrenheit and his daughter, suspended under a Union Jack sail.)
    Lord Felix: Nobody does it better…
    (Sir James lands beside Paloma and Lord Felix, who help his companions.)
    Lord Felix: Thou hast rescued ye alchemist and his daughter, Sir James! Our mission ist completed!
    Sir James: Not quite- watch this!
    (Ye castle explodes, for some undefined reason.)
    Sir James: And that puts an end to his evil schemes.
    Lord Felix: But what of Sir Malik?
    Paloma: Look there, yon ship!
    (A speedy ship sets sail into ye fjord.)
    Paloma: He ist getting away!
    Sir James: Lord Felix- thine hook, apace!
    Lord Felix: Mine hook? But surely thou canst not throw it to yon ship?
    Sir James: Who said anything about throwing?
    (Sir James quickly unravels ye collapsible elastic band ye Young Wizard hast given him, and uses it to catapult ye hook through the air towards the ship. It catches in their mainsail, causing ye ship to overturn and sink in the freezing waters of ye fjord.)
    Sir James: Sure I am that they will not keep themselves alive.
    Lord Felix: 'Tis time to return home, methinks.
    Sir James: Aye, and most hungry am I. A pity we have nothing to eat here.
    Lord Fahrenheit: No problem, they kept me well fed and I brought some food with me- here, help thineselves.
    (He produces a bag of fruit.)
    Paloma: Ah, good- coconuts!
    Young Maiden: I love coconuts!
    Lord Felix: For a moment I was afraid it might be smalahove, but most glad am I to see you have coconuts.
    Sir James: (Suspiciously.) Art thou sure they are not mangoes?
    All: Coconuts!!!!

    (Exeunt omnes.)

    Barbel, Thunderpussy, Number24, Charmed & Dangerous
  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 31,538Chief of Staff

    Act1, Scene 1. Ye throne room of Sir Gareth Mallory. Enter Sir James.

    Maid Moneypenny: Why, there thou art, Sir James! I have been seeking thee everywhere.
    Sir James: I was, er, just improving my French.
    Maid Moneypenny: A master of many tongues thou most surely art.
    Sir James: Nay, just one- but thou never take advantage of it.
    Maid Moneypenny: Thou should attend Sir Gareth forthwith, he hast sent for thee most urgently.
    Sir Gareth: A most serious situation hast arisen, Naught Naught Seven.
    Sir James: Great weapons have been purloined? Our agents have been slain?
    Sir Gareth: Nay, it would seem that there is a threat to Parliament itself.
    Sir James: Hmm, hast that Sir Guy Fawkes character escaped from gaol and got up to his olde tricks again? ‘Twould seem he did try to fry the Parliament.
    Sir Gareth: Yes, and ‘tis no time to fry…
    Sir James: I see what you did there.
    Sir Gareth: ‘Twould seem that our Parliament ist to be prevented from its business, at a time of great importance, in a most unusual and some say unconstitutional and undemocratic manner.
    Sir James: Nay! What does ye Prime Minister have to say?
    Sir Gareth. ...ah…. I was afraid thou might ask that… Thee may find this mission impossible.
    Sir James: Mayhap I should ask mine friend Lord Felix if Ethan Hunt ist free, then.
    Sir Gareth: 'Tis not a matter we would share with those across the sea, 'tis purely a British problem. Well, and French. And German. And...
    Sir James: Well, at least Ireland should not be a problem.
    Sir Gareth: ...ah....
    Sir James: But surely, sire, Her Majesty would not stand for this! She must say "Nay".
    Sir Gareth: ...ah...
    Sir James: She said "Aye"? 'Tis no time to "Aye"!
    Sir Gareth: I was afraid you'd say that.
    Sir James: 'Tis enough to make one weep.
    Sir Gareth: Naught Naught Seven, 'tis no time to cry.
    Sir James: Enough bad puns. What can be done to prevent this from happening?
    Sir Gareth: All our hopes rest with ye Leader Of Ye Opposition.
    Sir James: ...ah…
    Sir Gareth: Let us consult ye Young Wizard.
    (Ye Young Wizard ist sent for.)
    Young Wizard: To keep any interlopers confused we are to call this mission The Rhythm Method.
    Sir Gareth: That's Rhythm Section, Wizard!
    Young Wizard: Aye, like Sir Boris we were advised to pull out at the last minute.
    Sir James: Is this true?
    Young Wizard: Naught Naught Seven, 'tis no time to lie!
    Sir James: Hmph, everyone's at it now.
    (Much shouting ist heard from ye street below.)
    Sir Gareth: What ist that noise?
    Sir James: 'Tis many people marching on Parliament to protest against ye Prime Minister's prorogation.
    Sir Gareth: I'm beginning to think that Sir Guy Fawkes had the right idea...
    Sir James: Mayhap I should learn more about him.
    Sir Gareth: Aye, I shalt arrange for thee to go see him at ye Tower of London. They shalt go over all ye physical procedures used with him. Do not deviate from them for any reason whatsoever. And thou art to tell him nothing personal. Believe me, thou dost not want Guy Fawkes inside thine head.

    Act 1, Scene 2. Ye Tower Of London. Sir James walks with a guard.

    Guard: I prithee, remember ye rules. Do not touch or approach ye glass. You pass him nothing but soft paper. No pencils or pens. No staples or paperclips in his paper. Use the sliding food carrier. If he attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it. Do you understand me?
    Sir James: Aye, ‘tis understood.
    Guard: He ist past the others, ye last cell. Thou keepest to ye right. I hath put out a chair for thee.
    Sir James: Very good, I thank’ee.
    (Sir James moves forward, passing several cells. A noise comes from the first ......)
    Prisoner: Make the Colonies great again! I shall build a wall, the bigglyest wall ever. Hadrian, great guy by the way, great guy.... He had the right idea to keep those rebellious Scots out......
    Sir James: Still blowing his own Trump-et I see.
    (He shakes his head and passes another cell......)
    Second Prisoner: ORDER! ORDER! Come closer, friend, look at what I've got in my hand.....
    (He doth throw something into Sir James's face- some white ... papers.)
    Sir James: Not yet more amendments, you mad Bercow.
    (Sir James walks to ye last cell, where a man ist waiting.)
    Guy Fawkes: Good morning.
    Sir James: Sir Guy, I am he who ist called Bond, James Bond. May I speak with thee?
    Guy Fawkes: What did Bercow say unto ye?
    Sir James: He did shout ORDER! ORDER !
    Guy Fawkes: I do so hate Bad Manners.
    Sir James: Oh, I don't know ... "Lip up Fatty" was very good.
    Guy Fawkes: Thou art one of Sir Gareth Mallory's, art thee not?
    Sir James: I am, yes.
    Guy Fawkes: May I see thine credentials?
    Sir James: Certainly.
    Guy Fawkes: Closer, please. Closer. Hmm, that is very impressive.
    Sir James: ‘Tis these tights, I must have a word with mine tailor.
    Guy Fawkes: Tell me what thou wouldst know, Sir James. Thrill me with thine acumen.
    Sir James: ‘Tis told that thou had a most drastic idea for ye British Parliament.
    Guy Fawkes: Aye, ‘tis so.
    Sir James: Why was that?
    Guy Fawkes: A politician once tried to serve me a survey. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.
    Sir James: Why his liver?
    Guy Fawkes: Well, being a politician he had no heart and no brain. Also the arse and elbow are interchangeable.
    Sir James: Fair enough.
    Guy Fawkes: So I tried to destroy ye Houses of Parliament with some gunpowder. Well, quite a lot of gunpowder actually.
    Sir James: Sounds pretty final.
    Guy Fawkes: Aye, but alas I was caught. (Breathes heavily.)
    Sir James: Nay, nay... 'tis no time to sigh.

    Act 1, Scene 3. Ye cave of ye Young Wizard. Enter Sir James.

    Sir James: Greetings, Young Wizard.
    Young Wizard: Greetings, Naught Naught Seven. How did thine meeting with Sir Guy Fawkes proceed?
    Sir James: Alack, his only advice was to blow up ye Houses of Parliament.
    Young Wizard: Hmm, some might agree with him there.
    Sir James: ‘Tis true, but that option ist not open to us. Hast thou any advice for me?
    Young Wizard: Thine attention I crave, Naught Naught Seven. Behold this enchanted knife! ‘Twill stand by thine side, then stab thee in the back when thou doth least expect it.
    Sir James: Sounds of no use whatsoever.
    Young Wizard: True. I call it the “Gove”. Behold this pair of hose! They are designed in such a way that if thee fall in water, the hind portions shall fill with air to twice their natural size to keep thee afloat.
    Sir James: And what is its title?
    Young Wizard: I call it ye “Kardashian”.
    Sir James: Butt of course. Sorry I ass-ked. And what ist this here?
    Young Wizard: Ah, this spins around for years to no effect whatsoever. I call it-
    Sir James: Ye "Theresa"?
    Young Wizard: Nay, 'tis called ye "Corbyn".
    Sir James: Doth it cost much to keep running ?
    Young Wizard: Nay luckily we hath a new accountant- the Lady Diane Abbott, so it costs virtually nothing.
    Sir James: Ah, I see.
    Young Wizard: And this ist called ye "Sheeran". It emits a sound guaranteed to cause thine enemies to fall asleep. Unfortunately it also has that effect on thine friends as well- I'm working on it.
    Sir James: Sure I am that thou willst succeed.
    Young Wizard: This little pill is a mixture of herbs and exotic spices, which makes a person remember the past differently......... we call it the Prince Andrew!
    Sir James: ..and this metal ring ?
    Young Wizard: That be'eth my Prince Albert.
    (Sir James drops it to the floor.)
    Sir James: Now, 'tis time for lunch.
    Young Wizard: I am planning on making some fish & chips, wouldst thee care to join me?
    Sir James: I must decline- 'tis no time to fry.

    Act 1, Scene 4. Ye Visitors’ Gallery of ye House Of Commons. Lord Felix sits patiently waiting, watching ye noisy proceedings. Enter Sir James.

    Sir James: I thank’ee for meeting me here, Lord Felix. Apologies for being late.
    Lord Felix: ‘Tis no problem, Sir James. I have been enjoying watching ye antics of ye comedian below, while waiting for ye Prime Minister to appear.
    Sir James: Comedian? (Looks down.) Alack, Lord Felix, that IS our Prime Minister.
    Lord Felix: Hmm, I begin to see thine problem.
    Sir James: Indeed.
    Lord Felix: That man there in old-fashioned clothes, even for our century, lounging about on ye benches- ist he ye Leader Of Ye Opposition?
    Sir James: Nay, that ist ye Leader Of Ye House.
    Lord Felix: Then who ist ye Leader Of Ye Opposition?
    Sir James: Yon bearded man there, in ye big girls’ blouse.
    (Much shouting from below.)
    Sir James: ‘Tis much noisier than usual.
    Lord Felix: How can they get any business done, shouting at each other so much?
    Sir James: Oh, they don’t. They have been debating ye same question for about three years and three Prime Ministers now.
    (Sir James gestures to the chamber floor.)
    Sir James: Regard the two red lines running along the floor?
    Lord Felix: Aye, Sir James.
    Sir James: They are to prevent two politicians from attacking each other with swords, as it keeps their tips six inches apart!
    Lord Felix: Um? ... You can do a lot of damage with six inches...... as you've proven many times, Sir James.
    (Sir James raises an eye brow.)
    Lord Felix: Why do they not just ask ye people to decide for them?
    Sir James: They tried that...
    (Yells of “Order! Order!” from below.)
    Lord Felix: Order?
    Sir James: That ist very kind of thee, I’ll have a mead- let it be shaken, not stirred.
    Lord Felix: There ist a bar in here?
    Sir James: Several- they find it very necessary. I believe Lord Ken Clarke ist an expert in that subject.
    Lord Felix: Look, that member there ist crossing ye floor and joining one of ye other parties.
    Sir James: A regular occurrence these days.
    Lord Felix: Enough have I seen- I believe you mentioned a bar…?
    Sir James: Hmm, someone in this House has had a good idea. Pity it isn’t one of ye Members below. Let’s go.
    (Sir James and Lord Felix descend ye stairs and walk towards ye bar. A blond man rushes past them on his way to a waiting carriage.)
    Lord Felix: Sir James, I do believe I just saw ye Prime Minister making a run for it!
    Sir James: Nay, that was his brother making a sensible move and getting ye hell out of there.
    Lord Felix: I hope they have bourbon in this bar.
    Sir James: Nay, Felix- ‘tis no time to rye.

    Act 1, Scene 5. (Outside ye House of Commons, Sir James bids farewell to Lord Felix.)

    Lord Felix: A pleasure as ever, Sir James.
    Sir James: Aye, for me too. Art thou returning to ye colonies across the sea?
    Lord Felix: I must go there apace. Our President hast said that he does not need my services, and as we all know that means he most certainly does. He needeth some new quills for drawing hurricane progress on parchments.
    Sir James: Of course. ‘Til later, then.
    (Lord Felix heads off. Sir James enters his waiting carriage. As he drives off, another carriage doth follow.)
    Sir James: Hmm, it doth seem that someone is most interested to see where I am going. (Shouting.) Driver, do not tarry! Forward apace!! And watch out for that man in green trainers! (Thump.)
    Driver: What did thee say?
    Sir James: Never mind.
    (An arrow dispatches Sir James’ driver, and he has to take over the reins and race through the streets of Olde London Town.)
    Sir James: Tally-ho!
    (From ye pocket of his doublet, Sir James removes a small hip flagon of mead. Polishing it briskly against his hose, he holds it aloft and studies the reflection of ye following carriage.)
    Sir James: (To himself.) Hmm, a blond man doth follow me. I pray, is that Sir David of Zaritsky, here to take the measure of my doublet again?
    (The blond man leans from the window of his carriage and fires two arrows in quick succession at Sir James, who ducks as the arrows pass overhead.)
    Sir James: Hmm, that blond man looks suspiciously like yon Prime Minister, or perhaps his brother who had had enough and went home. ''Tis hard to tell!
    (Sir James spurs on his horse even faster. Gravel spits from its hooves. Yet Sir James's pursuer closes ye gap, his horse larger and more powerful than Sir James'. An arrow whistles by close to Sir James' ear, as another clangs from the footplate on which Sir James stands. Sir James' pursuer leans once more from his carriage, and shouts.)
    Pursuer: Cuckoo!
    Sir James: Oh Brother! But not that of ye Prime Minister.
    (Ahead, ye great River Thames stretches and Sir James realises that he has moments before his steed gallops headlong into its swiftly moving currents. With all his strength, Sir James pulls at the rains and makes his steed skid to a stop. Swiftly he turns ye beast and begins to gallop full tilt back at his pursuer. Sir James pulls a small lever and a shield rises from ye carriage, against which his pursuer's arrows clang harmlessly away. As the two steeds charge mercilessly at each other, Sir James pulls a cord on his doublet, which drops away. A set of wooden and feather wings sprout from a harness strapped to his back. In the windrush, Sir James leaps and ye wings carry him aloft, as his pursuer espies the river too late, and plunges into its currents, shouting as he falls.)
    Pursuer: 'Tis no time to fly!
    (Sir James floats to the ground.)
    Sir James: I was afraid he'd say that. ''Tis lucky Sir Leonardo da Vinci knocked this harness up for me while I wast last in Matera. I doth think he will go far.
    (Sir James begins to nonchalantly walk away, when a henchman sidles from ye shadows and knocks him out.)

    INTERLUDE. While unconscious, Sir James dreams.... Many dark clouds filter past, allowing the sun to shine through....... From a haze Sir James awakens ... )

    Sir James: Where be’eth I? This looks unfamiliar... A wheat field, by a golden road, made of golden bricks marked with a small letter "Z"..... a .. a couple of large-chested, sizzling gypsy wenches about to disrobe and.........
    (There is a flash, and Lord Barbel the keeper of the dream world appears.)
    Lord Barbel: This shall remain a pg13 dream, Sir James, so none of such saucy doings!!!!
    (And with another flash he disappears.)
    Sir James: Oh well, I did try. Reminds me of when I awoke on Crab Key… Somehow I feel I be on a quest to find my little dog, Felix.
    (A scarecrow in the field doth speak.)
    Scarecrow: There hath been a great storm, called storm Theresa, we're expecting her to return twice more ! Ah, wiff waff and nescio quid agam as the French say.
    Sir James: I must find my travelling companion who hath transmogrified into man's best friend.
    Scarecrow: Yes, a mate with an alibi, like when the wife asks about your latest girlfriend?
    Sir James: ...er, nay, my dog Felix.
    Scarecrow: I think he has gone ahead to find a place of great wisdom, tolerance and brotherly love, the castle known as… Parliament!!
    Sir James: How can thee keep a straight face when'st saying that? No matter, I will also travel to this Parliament to rejoin my friend- if as you say there be’eth much wisdom there, perhaps I shall discover many answers!
    Scarecrow: I never thought of that... my brain doesn't work good, I don't, er.… think good. In my family the clever kid became a doctor or lawyer, the real thicko became ......
    Sir James: A politician?
    Scarecrow: ..... a scarecrow!
    Sir James: Why not come with me? Perhaps Parliament and the wise people there could help you too.
    Scarecrow: Why that's a whizz bang idea, Amo valebat as the Italians say. I be Horace, how be you known?
    Sir James: I am he who ist known as Bo-
    Scarecrow: BORIS, Not Horace, that be me AH ....Im 'omnis homo ad opus righ as my old Nanny would say.
    Sir James: Oh Hell, ye can just call me Dorothy! By the way, what ist this place called?
    Boris: Dorothy, thou art in Oz!
    Sir James: Oz? Then fair dinkum! G'day mate, where's the barbie?
    Boris: Not that Oz! Let us away on the golden brick road…
    (They walk off arm in arm down ye yellow brick road, ignoring ye sound of Sir Elton John singing away. From some bushes they hear an attempt at a ferocious growl.)
    Boris: Oh, ‘tis most terrifying!
    Sir James: No, it isn’t.
    (Sir James reaches behind an unrealistic grassy knoll and pulls out an elderly lion.)
    Lion: Oh! Roar! Roar! (Pause.) Aren’t thee scared?
    Sir James: Well, not overwhelmingly, I must admit.
    Boris: ‘Tis a lion!
    Sir James: Yes, very impressive, isn't he Boris?
    Boris: What? Oh yes very scary... braccas dogmata virorum aliorum ego iustus meus !
    Lion: Do you really think so? At least that is what I am supposed to be, if thou readest ye Daily Mail and Daily Express.
    Sir James: Ye Express used to have a good comic strip, many years ago.
    Lion: Do you think I'm effective as a leader? I don't think my pride think I'm very good- even my good friend Chuka left to join another pride........ Twice!!
    Sir James: Oh, boo!
    (Ye lion jumps back in terror and hides behind Boris.)
    Boris: Thou art just a big girls’ blouse!
    Lion: Aye, ‘tis so. Always have I been scared to do what I should do. If only I could find my courage.
    Sir James: We are off to see the wonderful world of Parliament, why not come with us, they are the most effective leadership in the world and could help you.
    Lion: Would they help me?
    Sir James: If it helps them get some expenses monies, they'll be all over you.
    Lion: I'll do that, I need lessons in being courageous and effective at leadership. How do we get to Parliament?
    Sir James: We follow the golden brick road ahead, straight ahead.
    Lion: I usually take the other, on the extreme left, but I'll come with thee on thine journey. I'm Jeremy, by the way.
    Sir James: Let us away.
    (The trio exit. Soon, they find a man made of tin, wearing old-fashioned spectacles and lounging on a bench.)
    Sir James: Get up, man!
    Tin Man: (Languidly.) I don't believe I care to.
    Jeremy: Oh, go on- have a heart!
    Tin Man: (Puzzled.) A heart? And what would that be?
    Sir James: It is what makes thee care for other people, especially those less fortunate than thineself.
    Tin Man: ...no, I do not understand. Care to run that past me one more time?
    Boris: I must admit, I'm not understanding it either.
    Jeremy: Well, there's a surprise. Tin Man, would thee not care if someone were to, say, lose their job and have to rely on a food bank?
    Tin Man: Could they not simply adjust ye flow of money from their overseas accounts?
    Sir James: Hmm, perhaps you should join us on our quest. How should we call thee?
    Tin Man: Thou can call me Mogg.
    (The four set off down ye road, occasionally squabbling. Eventually they reach a large building with towers.)
    Boris: Camelot!
    Mogg: Camelot!
    Jeremy: It's only a model.
    Sir James: Nay, 'tis our destination: Parliament!
    (As they walk towards ye building, a crowd of small people walk slowly towards them, their arms held out in front.)
    Jeremy: Oooh, they’re scary!
    Mogg: ‘Tis nothing to be scared of, they art only Munchkins.
    Jeremy: But they are walking so strangely!
    Boris: Aha! Wiffle waffle. They art Zombie Munchkins- they have been prorogued!
    Sir James: Prorogued?
    Mogg: Aye, 'tis a kind of living death when they cannot do what they are meant to do. They now wander around aimlessly.
    Boris: (Innocent look.) Hmm, who could have done such a thing...?
    Sir James: Indeed... Hey, you there! (Sir James grabs one of ye Munchkins.) Where art thee all going?
    Munchkin: Back to our constituencies- we have been prorogued!
    Sir James: My friends and I seek help- who ist there in yon building who can possibly help us?
    Munchkin: Only ye great wizard called Bercow- but thou must hurry! Like many others, he hath announced that he is leaving.
    Sir James: I thank'ee- now be off and rejoin the others. But watch out for that man with green trainers! (Thump.)
    Munchkin: (From a distance.) What did thee say?
    Sir James: Never mind.
    (They arrive at the huge doors of Parliament with a horde of shuffling Munchkins following calling out "Order, Order !" A man in tights and a wig approaches them.)
    Mogg: These portals of resistance are of an imposing mammoth-isty!
    Boris: Eh?
    Jeremy: He said they're big doors.
    Mogg: (Monocle falling from his eye.) Good Lord, don't you know the Queen's English?
    Boris: Well actually, I was born in the colonies.
    Sir James: And I’m Scots/Swiss as any true fan knows. :007)
    (The man approaches closer.)
    Man: Ye may know me as Black Rod. Now, what is your business here?
    Sir James: We wish an audience with the great wizard Bercow of Parliament, may we pass?
    Black Rod: The door can only be opened with a terrific banging.
    Boris: Banging, eh? Sounds like my territory, stand aside....
    Black Rod: Nay, I must use my great staff.
    Jeremy: I hope they're being paid a living wage and have been allowed to form a Trade Union and are free from bullying or sexual harassment.
    (Ignoring them Black Rod picks up his staff and bangs on the doors, commanding them to open.)
    Sir James: I've seen some big knockers before but....
    (The doors open to reveal a large room with benches on both sides and a large green chair at the rear. A deep and booming voice fills the chamber...... )
    Voice: Sit down. Why have you disobeyed my strictest rule and come in daylight?
    Black Rod: With Parliament suspended, I thought it safe to do so.
    Voice: Don't let me interrupt you..… It's funny. All that excitement on the golden brick road rang a distant bell. And now, suddenly, this evening, it makes perfect sense. Welcome, Sir James..... Cuckoo!
    Sir James: (Clapping.) That's awfully good, a cuckoo, sounds just right. Do you do any others?
    Voice: Tu-wit-ta-woo- that's an owl.
    Sir James: Splendid, splendid.
    Voice: And look at this........ ( A light casts a shadow on the wall, as two hands form animal shapes.) A rabbit, an elephant, and look here, an Aston Martin DB10 carriage..... Why is that man slouching on the bench?
    Sir James: Oh that's Mogg, he's very... eh… languid.
    Voice: Nothing goes limp while I'm performing! .... Well, not for ages, anyway.
    Boris: Aye, stiffen the sinews old Moggy.
    Jeremy: This is all the proof we need- he really is a wiz of a wiz, if ever there was.
    (From behind the speakers chair comes ye sound of a scuffle and barking ...... a white haired man in a colourful tie falls out on the floor followed by Felix the dog.)
    Boris : Who be’eth he, Sir James?
    Sir James: ‘Tis my dog, Felix!
    Boris: Nay, ye man.
    Sir James: He is the Wiz, I fancy.
    Mogg: I don't agree with that sort of thing, old man. I'm very traditional in my ways. A marriage is between one man and .... several off shore banking accounts.
    Jeremy: But he sounds nothing like the Wizard Bercow.
    Sir James: A voice box, Jeremy. Science was never my strong suit, but the principle is easy enough- a loud hailer cone, to make him sound louder and more impressive.
    Jeremy:I must get one of those.
    The Wiz: Please call your dog off, bloody hell he'll try and shag anything.
    Sir James: Felix!!!
    (Felix rushes to Sir James and is magically returned to human form.)
    Sir James: Who's a good boy. who loves his Daddy?
    Lord Felix: Good to see you again Sir James ...... Please stop rubbing my tummy and patting my head.
    Sir James: Sorry, Felix. Why don't you lie down and let me give you a blow............. by blow account.
    The Wiz: Why have you come here, and upset my chilling mood?
    Sir James: We have come with requests.
    The Wiz: Nay no songs....... well maybe a Queen medley but none of that Ed Sheeran sh1te!!
    Sir James: Requests of a magical nature, as you are in control of Parliament, so have great power.
    The Wiz: We must make haste, I can hear the Zombie Munchkins at the doors.
    (An ominous rumbling ist heard from outside.)
    Sir James: Ah, this be Boris, a scarecrow of limited means who would like to be, in his own words, "Gooder at doing stuff ".
    (The Wiz looks Boris over and produces a small pouch, which he passes to Boris.)
    The Wiz: Look upon your work, the white make-up in this bag with the other colourful make-up. Your best calling has always been your first. Be a clown, all the world loves a clown. That's why you make bad decisions, you should be making custard pies!!
    Boris: Thank you Wiz, I shall change my ways.
    The Wiz: And this fellow?
    Sir James: Jeremy, a lion who hath no courage, so would like some.
    The Wiz: Fear is nothing to be feared...... just controlled. Look at those whom you employ- the Lady Diane Abbott and the Lady Emily Thornberry? Most wouldn't leave them in charge of a bucket of poo, but you do. You're not frightened of the derision. You already have all the courage you need!
    Jeremy: Yes, I can see it now. "I am Invincible” !!!
    Boris: Up for an election?
    Jeremy: We're gonna need a bigger vote!
    Sir James: Lastly we have Mogg here, who needs a heart.
    The Wiz: From what I've seen I can do nothing for Mogg, he really is heartless.
    Mogg: Can you not facilitate such an acquisition?
    The Wiz: Here, take this.
    (He passes another pouch to Mogg.)
    The Wiz: This pouch contains a heart,..... some kidney, bacon, beef sausage, lamb chops and mushrooms, topped off with a fried egg. It's a mixed grill.
    Mogg: (Suspiciously.) Where did it come from?
    The Wiz: All the way from ye Paradise Islands, just like thine bank account.
    Sir James: Hooray, we have all got our wishes granted!
    Mogg: Well I haven't......
    (Sir James pushes him back onto a bench, where he lands in his favourite position.)
    Sir James: We have ALL had our wishes granted- courage, brains, my old friend back and a slap up mixed grill for afters. Listen, even ye Munchkins sound different. They sound happy!
    The Wiz: Well, I’m not happy.
    Sir James: Which one are you then? Grumpy, Sneezy, Dopey…?
    (From outside comes a chant from a lone bystander.)
    Man: STOP BREXIT!!!
    Mogg: Is he still here?
    The Wiz: The doors, unlock the doors.
    Lord Felix: Listen they're singing, about licking and sucking on a hard.... Brexit?
    Sir James: Nay, It's about the lollipop guild Felix… Felix….
    (Sir James begins to wake up.)

    Act 2, Scene 1. (Sir James gradually recovers consciousness.)

    Sir James: (Awakening.) … Felix, Felix, what was in that drink?…..
    (Sir James awakes to find himself facing 27 dignitaries sitting in a semi-circle. In ye centre sits a red-haired woman in her mid-sixties, her hands clasped in front of her.)
    Anonymous Woman: Guten tag, Sir James. My apologies for the way you were brought here today. I was not sure you would accept a formal invitation.
    Sir James: ‘Tis always possible.
    Anonymous Woman: You know who I am?
    Sir James: I would think most of ye Western world know who thou art, Frau M-
    Anonymous Woman: Nein, no names bitte! Since thou hast recognised me, I am sure that thou knows who my 26 colleagues are.
    Sir James: ...I think I can work it out- except for ye Italian leader. I find it hard to keep up with how quickly those change.
    Italian Leader: I wouldst say that thine country is not in a position to comment on that subject these days.
    Sir James: Fair comment, I withdraw my remark.
    Anonymous Woman: Sir James, we have brought thee here as a representative of thine Government. None of ye politicians do seem to have a pair of ears to listen to us.
    Sir James: Aye, ye British people have the same problem with them.
    Frau Mer…. Er, Anonymous Woman: This we know. Let me introduce you to a now retired senior member of thine Civil Service.
    (Enter Sir Humphrey.)
    Sir Humphrey: Let it be known that thine present interlocutor doth hope, nay, wish that thou art to be found in as convivial a state as possible at this current time of day.
    Sir James: ...eh?
    Anonymous Woman: I believe he said “Good morning”. It was our thought that our message to thine Prime Minster may be better received if thou heard it from a respected member of thine own establishment.
    Sir Humphrey: To put it simply, Sir James, certain discussions both formal and informal have taken place involving a full and frank exchange of views, out of which there arose a series of proposals which on close examinations have led to the realization that alternative courses of action might, in fact, in certain circumstances be capable of discreet modification leading to a reappraisal of the original areas of difference and pointing the way to encouraging areas of compromise and co-operation which if bilaterally implemented with appropriate give and take on both sides might, if the climate were right, have a reasonable possibility of, at the end of the day, leading to a mutually satisfactory conclusion.
    Sir James: I am not sure if I can remember all that! Could thee put thine message to ye Prime Minister more simply?
    Sir Humphrey: If you must do this bloody stupid thing, don’t do it in this bloody stupid way.
    Sir James: Well, I shalt tell him but I am not sure he will listen.
    Anonymous Woman: And that, I think, concludes our business. Would thee like a piece of torte before going?
    Sir James: I think not- ‘tis no time to pie.

    Act 2, Scene 2. Ye throne room of Sir Gareth Mallory.

    Sir James: ….so that ist what happened, sire.
    Sir Gareth: Thou have been given a mission by this anonymous woman and her cohorts to give their message to our Prime Minister?
    Sir James: Aye, ‘tis so. Do you think he will listen?
    Sir Gareth: ‘Tis worth a try.
    Sir James: ‘Tis no time to-
    Sir Gareth: Enough, Naught Naught Seven! But be thou aware, Sir Guy Fawkes hath escaped from ye Tower Of London- methinks thou may come across him in thine mission.

    (Outside ye Houses of Parliament. Sir James finds his way blocked by a large crowd of people, shouting and waving placards saying “Stop ye Coup”.)
    Sir James: What ist going on here?
    Protestor: We art protesting against what hath been happening to our government!
    Sir James: Good luck with that.
    (Sir James continues, coming next to a smaller crowd of people, shouting and waving placards.)
    Sir James: Art thee protesting against what hath happened to our government, too?
    Ex-Minister: Nay, we ARE the government! Or at least we used to be…
    (Sir James next fights his way past hordes of reporters, all frantically seeking someone to interview.)
    Reporter: You there! Have you been prorogued?
    Sir James: Nay, ‘tis just these tights- I must get a better tailor.
    (Outside No10, Sir James speaks to one of ye constables on duty.)
    Sir James: ‘Tis most important that I have a word with ye Prime Minister.
    Constable: Alack, he ist in Aberdeen wrestling with a bull.
    2nd Constable: Nay, he ist in Ireland, being ignored by their Taois… Taiose… er, their leader.
    Sir James: ‘Tis madness! I must get out of here.
    (Sir James hides beneath Westminster Bridge. There, he spies a familiar figure in ye shadows, struggling with a fuse and two flints.)
    Sir James: Greetings, Sir Guy.
    Guy Fawkes: What? Sir James! I suppose thou have been sent to bring me back into gaol.
    Sir James: Nay, I have a better idea. (Produces a box of matches.) Would you like a light?
    Guy Fawkes: Most certainly.
    Sir James: ‘Tis definitely time to Guy!

    Barbel, Thunderpussy, Charmed & Dangerous
  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 31,538Chief of Staff
    Act 1, Scene 1.

    (Still to be written.)

    (Interlude. A Norwegian man sings a song he wrote.)

    Oh Danny Boyle, the plays, the plays are calling
    From Shallow Grave to that stage play "Yesterday"
    But there's no Bond, a Bond play's sorely lacking
    'Tis you 'tis you and you must try

    But come ye stage play when summer's in the meadow
    Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
    It needs a twist, a twist that is surprising
    Oh clever twist, oh cunning twist I need you so

    And if you come, then EON can still leave it dying
    And I am dead, as dead I may well be
    And you will come, and find a place in my writing
    And I'll kneel and say a «Yipee!» there for it

    Look there it is! It's cunning as a twist can hope for
    And 'tis so good, it has to be a secret
    And if it not fail to meet Barbara's approval
    I'll simply say I must direct that play.
    I'll simply wait until EON agrees with me

    Act 2, Scene 1. (Ye throne room of Sir Gareth Mallory. Maid Moneypenny attends to her clerking. Enter Sir James Bond.)

    Maid Moneypenny: There thou art, Sir James! Where have thou been?
    Sir James: I was, er, looking up an old friend.
    Maid Moneypenny; But of course, and more than looking I should wager.
    Sir James: Why, Moneypenny, thou should know me by now!
    Maid Moneypenny: Aye, ‘tis true. Thou should attend Sir Gareth forthwith, he hast sent for thee.

    Sir Gareth: Prithee, come in Sir James, do not tarry. I hast some bad news.
    Sir James: Pray tell, what ist? Hath the Comte de Blofeld escaped?
    Sir Gareth: Nay.
    Sir James: The Maid Moneypenny? Ist she up the Macduff?
    Sir Gareth: Nay.
    Sir James: Ist it Parliament? Mayhap ye green-loafered Bavarian who frequents these threads ist once again offering his opinion on ye current situation there?
    Sir Gareth: Nay, Sir James, 'tis none of these - 'tis much worse.
    Sir James: Pray tell then, what could be worse than these?
    Sir Gareth: A mission I hath for thee.
    Sir James: A mission? How splendid! What couldst be so bad about that?
    Sir Gareth: Neither thine own true love, nor thy dead parents, nor thy erstwhile half-brother, nor anyone else thou loves nor once loved ist involved. This time, 'tis not personal.
    Sir James: Ye Gods. I hast not come across such a situation since mine hair became blond. The prospect of such a mission ist alien to me. Please tell me more.
    Sir Gareth: What dost thee know of Mary, Queen Of Scots, Naught Naught Seven?
    Sir James: Why, ye cousin of the beloved Queen Elizabeth. She was married to Lord Darnley, a most handsome man though some say he had weepy eyes.
    Ye music at her wedding was terrific- from Lord John Barry, no less. Alas, she ist no more. Why do thee ask, sire?
    Sir Gareth: Taste ye this drink.
    (Sir Gareth passes a glass to Sir James, who sips at first tentatively and then with more gusto.)
    Sir James: Ah, vodka from ye land of ye Tsars! It also contains some other flavour with which I be not familiar.
    Sir Gareth: That would be tomato juice- not surprising that thou should not recognise it, since it is non-alcoholic.
    Sir James: Ah.
    Sir Gareth: This drink ist becoming most popular all through ye civilised territories, and also parts of Manchester. It ist called a “Bloody Mary”.
    Sir James: I begin to see ye connection.
    Sir Gareth: Ye authorities fear the drink will lead to Scottish nationalism and Papism, as well as other ill side effects that comes with strong alcohol. I charge ye to find the recipe and destroy it.
    Sir James: Are there ill effects from alcohol? I knowest not of this.
    Sir Gareth: Alas, I forgot to whom I was speaking. Think no more of it.
    Sir James: But, sire, thou knowest I am of Scottish blood- see, this tattoo on mine arm!
    Sir Gareth: Queen and country, Naught Naught Seven. Now, thine associate Felix, Lord of Leiter, hast set sail from Amsterdam and ist due to arrive soon. ‘Twould be good if thou shouldst meet with him and work on this assignment together.

    Act 2, Scene 2. (A seaport. Lord Felix disembarks, and Sir James picks him up in his carriage.)

    Sir James: So, tell me about the tobacco bars I prithee?
    Lord Felix: What do thee want to know?
    Sir James: Well, tobacco ist legal there, right?
    Lord Felix: Aye, ‘tis legal, but not a hundred percent legal. I mean thou can not walk into a restaurant, roll up, and start puffing away. Thou art only supposed to smoke in thine home or certain designated places.
    Sir James: Those are tobacco bars?
    Lord Felix: Aye, it breaks down like this: ‘tis legal to buy it, ‘tis legal to own it and, if thou art ye proprietor of a hash bar, ‘tis legal to sell it. ‘Tis legal to carry it, which does not really matter because – get a load of this – if ye constables stop thee, ‘tis illegal for them to search thee. Searching thee is a right that the constables in Amsterdam do not have.
    Sir James: But I thought Amsterdam and their constables are known for having nil tolerance?
    Lord Felix: Thou art thinking of New Amsterdam in the Colonies. They are indeed known for being intolerant. I am speaking of Amsterdam in the Nether Regions. They are very tolerant indeed. Amsterdam has legalized not only smoking, but felonies such as murder, theft, breaking in, breaking out and coming out. Because of their tolerant constables there is little wrongdoing in the Nether Regions.
    Sir James: That does it, Lord Felix – I am going, that ist all there is to it.
    Lord Felix: Thou shalt dig it ye most. But thou knowest what the funniest thing about Europe is?
    Sir James: What?
    Lord Felix: ‘Tis ye little differences. A lot of ye same stuff we got here, they got there, but there they art a little different.
    Sir James: Examples?
    Lord Felix: Well, in Amsterdam, thou can buy beer in a theatre. And I do not mean in a paper cup either. They give thee a glass of beer, like in a bar. In Paris, thou can buy beer at ye House of MacDonald's. Also, thou knowest what they call a Quarter Pounder of Roasted Hedgehog with Cheese in Paris?
    Sir James: They do not call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?
    Lord Felix: No, they do have the metric system there, they would not know what a Quarter Pounder is.
    Sir James: What do they call it?
    Lord Felix: Royale Surprise with Cheese.
    Sir James: (Repeating.) Royale Surprise with Cheese. What do they call a Big Hog?
    Lord Felix: A Big Hog ist simply a big hedgehog there too, but they call it Le Big Hog.
    Sir James: Le Big Hog. What do they call a Popper?
    Lord Felix: I know’est not, I did not go to ye King of Heartattacks. But thou knowest what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
    Sir James: What?
    Lord Felix: Mayonnaise.
    Sir James: Nay!
    Lord Felix: I hast seen them do it. And I mean not a little bit on the side of ye plate, they drown them in it.
    Sir James: Yucch!!

    Act 2, Scene 3. (Sir James and Lord Felix enter a tavern in London.)

    Sir James: This place can be a little rough.
    Lord Felix: I'm ready for anything.
    (Strange music is played by three unfortunate-looking minstrels.)
    Innkeeper: (Pointing at Lord Felix.) Forsooth! We don't serve thy kind here.
    Sir James: What kind?
    Innkeeper: Colonials. They keep trying to order cold beer, whatever that may be.
    Lord Felix: Why don't we exit stage left to another tavern? I do not wish for any trouble.
    (As Sir James and Lord Felix move to depart, Lord Felix accidentally knocks the arm of a varlet, spilling his pint of mead. The varlet blocks their path.)
    Varlet: My brethren the Innkeeper here doesn't like you. I don't like you, either. Thou should’st watch thineselves. We're wanted men. I hast the death sentence in 12 counties!
    (At that, the varlet removes a dagger from his hose and lunges at Lord Felix. Sir James, however, is too quick. Drawing his sword, he deftly separates the varlet from his arm, before bundling Lord Felix from the tavern.)
    Lord Felix: He seems ‘armless to me.
    (Outside, a tall, hirsute knight approaches and spits a wad of tobacco to the ground.)
    Sir James: Chew-baccy here is first mate on a ship that might suit us.
    (Another knight approaches and doffs his cap to Sir James and Lord Felix.)
    Knight: Romeo Soleo. I'm captain of the Millennium Falcon. Chewie here tells me thou art looking for passage to the colonies.
    Lord Felix: Aye, indeed, if she be a fast ship.
    Romeo: Fast ship? Thou hast ne’er heard of ye Millennium Falcon? Tis’ the ship that ran the English Channel in less than 12 weeks! A faster ship thou shalt ne’er find. Though it leaks and may leave thou wet.
    Lord Felix: Well Sir James, ‘tis no time to stay dry.
    Sir James: I was afraid you’d say that.

    Act 2, Scene 4. (Sir James and Lord Felix go into a second tavern.)

    Innkeeper: And what would thee like to drink, gentlemen?
    Sir James: I will have a mead, let it shaken be and not stirred.
    Lord Felix: Where ist thine sense of adventure, Sir James? Innkeeper, we shalt have two Bloody Marys.
    (Ye bar goes silent. Ye band stops playing "Good Morning London Town". A darts player freezes mid-throw. In the distance, a wolf howls. Heads slowly turn to stare at Sir James and Lord Felix.)
    Varlet: Bloody Marys, eh?
    (He throws a dagger at Lord Felix, narrowly missing, then takes to his heels.)
    Lord Felix: After him! Run, James, run!
    (Sir James chases ye varlet through ye streets. They battle with swords, then the varlet runs off. Sir James pulls out his crossbow and shoots several times, narrowly missing. The varlet trips and falls, his sword lying just outside his arms reach. Sir James walks slowly up to him, crossbow in hand.)
    Sir James: I know what thou art thinking: "Did he fire six arrows or only five?" Well to tell thee the truth, in all this excitement, I hast kind of lost track myself. But being this is a .44 crossbow, the most powerful crossbow in the world, and would blow your head clean off, thou hast got to ask thineself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do thee, varlet?
    (The varlet gives up trying to retrieve his sword. Sir James picks it up and starts to walk away, as Lord Felix and ye constables arrive.)
    Varlet: Hey! (Sir James turns around.) I gots to know...
    (Sir James recocks and aims his crossbow and pulls ye trigger, but it just clicks and he grins, laughs, and walks away.)
    Varlet: Son of a bitch…

    Act 2, Scene 5. (Ye cave of ye Young Wizard. Enter Sir James.)

    Sir James: Greetings, Young Wizard.
    Young Wizard: Most pleased I am to see thee, Naught Naught Seven. Thine attention I crave- behold this enchanted blond wig! If thou do wear it, thou can tell ye most outrageous lies and everyone shalt believe thee.
    Sir James: And what ist it called?
    Young Wizard: We call it ye “Donald”.
    Sir James: Not ye "Boris", then?
    Young Wizard: Nay, we did try that but no-one believed ye lies. Now, what can I do for thee, Naught Naught Seven?
    Sir James: I have been charged by Sir Gareth to look into ye drink known as ye “Bloody Mary”.
    Young Wizard: Ah, ‘tis one of a wide range of drinks named after Royals.
    Sir James: Such as?
    Young Wizard: I prithee, look here. (He mixes some fluids together.) This be called ye “Phizzing Philip”. Thou art not recommended to drive thine carriage after one of these. Or speak with foreigners.
    Sir James: Are there any more?
    Young Wizard: "The Charles". It has been stored and aged for decades, ready for the right time. It may have been ageing for too long and gotten a bitter aftertaste.
    Sir James: I see. What can thee tell me about ye Bloody Mary?
    Young Wizard: Because of its association with Mary, Queen Of Scots, it hath become a symbol for rebellious Scots. Their leader, Red Nicola, ist considering using it as a flag.
    Sir James: Then 'tis most important we stamp it out! 'Twould never do for ye Scots to leave ye United Kingdom only to join ye European Union and prosper.

    Act 3, Scene 1. (A vodka distillery. Sir James sits with ye director.)

    Sir James: 'Tis good of thee to see me at such short notice, director. I understand thou art here from ye land of ye Tsars?
    Director: Da, and I understand thou art a representative of Her Majesty's Government. Thou art not, perchance, a politician?
    Sir James: Why, nay, I work for, er, ye Foreign Office. A mere Civil Servant am I.
    Director: Glad am I to hear this. Last week we did have a delegation of Members of Parliament. Most disruptive.
    Sir James: Oh? And what did they seek?
    Director: 'Tis most curious, I do believe they were after broth, or mayhap consommé.
    Sir James: Broth? Consommé?
    Director: Aye, I didst hear them talk- forgive me, mine English ist not good- I didst hear them say that they were attempting to organise some pea soup.
    Sir James: (Confused.) Pea soup?
    Director: 'Tis so. Apparently the week before they had been attempting to organise a pea soup in a brewery and had failed in this endeavour...
    Sir James: (Light dawning.) No surprise there.
    Director: ...so they were attempting to do the same thing in mine distillery. Alas, they failed there also.
    Sir James: Knock me down with a feather.
    Director: Would thee like a tour of this establishment?
    Sir James: Very much so.
    Director: Then seek ye Apothecary Knightley.

    (In ye distillery, Sir James approaches a most comely wench.)
    Sur James: Ahem.
    Apothecary Knightley: Can I help thee?
    Sir James: Aye, I am he who ist called Bond, James Bond. I seek Apothecary Knightley.
    Apothecary Knightley: Thou hast found her.
    Sir James: An individual who identifies as being of ye feminine gender.
    Apothecary Knightley: Thine command of current pointless idiom does ye credit, Yeoman Bond.
    Sir James: Sir James... to mine friends.
    Apothecary Knightley: Twys Knightley.
    Sir James: Twys Knightley?
    Twys: Aye, I am ye middle of three children. Well, Sir James I guess we'd better get started. You don't want to lose as much time as Eon have wasted this last decade, do you?

    (Twys leads Sir James through a doorway.)
    Twys: This is where we make ye Ass Beer, for export to Norway.
    Sir James: Ass Beer?
    Twys: Aye, 'tis from the bottom of the barrel. They use special barrels- look, they all have a crack in the bottom. Then a mesh of material is placed over them.
    Sir James: Ah ! ... so they cover their Ass.
    Twys: Here try mine it be ..... Uh? Where's it gone?
    (Sir James raises an eyebrow .. )
    Twys: Hey, who in here has had my Ass?
    (Several worker raise an arm enthusiastically.)
    Sir James: Nay, she speaks of her ale.
    (Disappointedly, ye workers lower their arms.)
    Twys: Oh, well, never mind.
    Sir James: And what ist this here, Twys?
    (Sir James points to a large metallic figure hoisting barrels.)
    Twys: Ah, that ist ye T800. ‘Twas built by an alchemist and runs on clockwork. It absolutely will not stop. Most marvellous, is it not? It is said to have cost a fortune of 60 Colonial dollars to make! All its wheels and cogs come from the Empire of Japan from the Datsun carriage company.
    (Unseen, a varlet sneaks up behind ye T800 and alters its controls.)
    Sir James: May I have a closer look? I hath never seen the sixty dollar man before.
    Twys: But of course.
    Sir James: I’ll be back..... As the Old Wizard told me, always have an Escape Plan.
    (Sir James approaches ye metallic figure, which abruptly changes position and throws a barrel at him. Sir James repeatedly ducks out of its path.)
    Sir James: What! ’Tis like a game boy!
    Twys: I don’t know, this hast never happened before- and I have total recall.
    (Ye T800 advances towards Sir James, arms held menacingly. Sir James leaps onto ye conveyor belt carrying barrels, and it follows. Sir James draws his crossbow and fires, but his bolts bounce harmlessly from its metallic skin.)
    Twys: Do be careful, Sir James!
    Sir James: Ye thought had occurred to me- I have no wish to be ye last action hero!
    (Ye conveyor belt approaches an icing chamber, where ye beer ist chilled, and leaps off in ye nick of time. The T800 ist frozen, and Sir James heaves a barrel at it, shattering it into a million pieces.)
    Sir James: I hope he hath no twins… (He avoids many parts of ye robot falling all around.) Looks like it's raining Datsun Cogs!
    Twys: Ah, here ist mine Ass! (Drinks heartily.)
    Sir James: Methinks I would like some of your Ass too after that! (Drinks.)
    Twys: I forgot to tell thee of one unfortunate side-effect of this beer.
    Sir James: Oh?
    Twys: Aye, it makes thee...
    (They are interrupted by loud farting noises.)
    Sir James: Ah, I see....... Would'st thee light a match?

    (Deep in ye distillery.)
    Twys: In this barrel we have ye vodka which ist sent to ye Blades club, containing a pinch of pepper- but thou wouldst know about that...?
    Sir James: Aye, 'twas I who introduced them to the habit, more years ago than I could believably mention. And this barrel?
    Twys: This barrel hast ye vodka flavoured with smalahove- 'tis a special consignment for Norway.
    Sir James: Inconceivable. And this?
    Twys: This barrel contains a certain proportion of tomato juice along with ye vodka, to create a "Bloody Mary".
    Sir James: So! Ist this sent to Scotland?
    Twys: Nay, our sales to Scotland are very low- they have their own drink there called "whisky".
    Sir James: Ah yes, I believe I have heard of this. So, where dost thee send thine barrels of Bloody Mary?
    Twys: I am sorry, Sir James, but that information ist on a need to know basis. Section 26, paragraph 5. Sure thee understand.
    Sir James: But of course. Enough have I seen, to London I must make haste.
    Twys: Thou should also see ye nearby whisky distillery, mayhap?
    Sir James: Wouldst thee care to accompany me, and mayhap dine with me en route?
    Twys: Why, Sir James, ‘tis so sudden. And thou art unknown to me, a strange gentleman.
    Sir James: Ten minutes, then?
    Twys: Make it five.

    Act 3, Scene 2. (A whisky distillery. Sir James and Twys arrive at their destination, a castle-like building with a glass roof.)

    Sir James: ‘Tis not quite what I was expecting...
    Twys: Times change, Sir James. Ah, here comes ye owner now.
    (A man wearing a top hat and a brightly coloured coat approaches. He performs a quick somersault before introducing himself, doffing his hat and bowing deeply.)
    Sir James: A colourful ensemble, good sir.
    Willy: Could be worse, I could be wearing green trainers.
    (Willy replaces his top hat.)
    Willy: Greetings, honoured guests, thou may know me as “Willy”. To what do I owe this pleasure?
    Twys: I am Apothecary Knightley from ye vodka distillery, and this is he who called Bond, James Bond. We would very much appreciate a tour of thine wonderful establishment.
    Willy: ‘Tis no problem, but I prithee to excuse mine inability to conduct thee on such a tour and would ask thee to make thine own way.
    Twys: ‘Tis a pity we shall be deprived of thine company.
    Willy: Aye, for I must await here a visitor I was expecting… Charlie.
    Twys: You were expecting some "Nose Candy "?
    Willy: Nay, a young visitor who hath won a competition, he ist called Charlie!
    (Willy looks down to the flowers and chocolates and hides them behind his back. A small bottle of blue pills falls to the ground which he quickly picks up.)
    Willy: Just my rheumatism medicine, it assists with my ... er....... stiffness ... Did thee mayhap see anyone along ye way?
    Sir James: Why, nay. We hath seen no one.
    Willy: Oh well. Please, enter by yon door there. I must away, to light the candles and see the rose petals are...... no matter, enjoy my distillery. Please go anywhere you wish.
    (He exits.)

    (Sir James and Twys enter ye building.)
    Sir James: Most strange!
    Twys: Aye, for ‘tis not like mine distillery at all. See, ye fields of hops growing there. And that golden brown river- if I be not mistaken, it doth smell like-
    Sir James: Whisky!
    (Two figures emerge from ye shadows and begin to stalk Sir James and Twys.)
    Twys: Aye, a river of whisky- and look, a boat!
    Sir James: Let us have a closer inspection…
    (They board ye boat and begin to sail down ye river of tasty alcohol. Their followers sneak along ye bank.)
    Twys: Look there, Sir James!
    Sir James: Are those children harvesting ye crops? Child labour!
    Twys: Nay, not children- those are little orange men. Hear them singing “Doompa Woompa” or such as they work.
    Sir James: Orange men? That could be politically insensitive in certain countries.
    Twys: Nay, they used to be purple until an unfortunate accident at ye Irn Bru factory.
    Sir James: Lo, another boat ahead.
    (They approach ye second boat.)
    Sir James: Ahoy there!
    (A tousled head appears sleepily from behind ye bulwarks.)
    Man: Avast behind!
    Twys: No need to get personal, good sir, we have only just met.
    (A few other heads appear on ye second boat, gazing blearily at Sir James and Twys.)
    Sir James: Mere tourists are we, sightseeing round this wonderful place. Do thee work here?
    Man: Work? (He and his companions laugh.) Why, we pay Willy just to allow us here! Boating on a river made of whisky is ye stuff dreams are made of! Allow me to introduce ourselves- we are from ye British actors’ drinking club: I am Burton, this here is O’Toole, that is Harris, and that is Reed.
    Twys: And ye one still sleeping?
    Burton: Oh, I forget his name- we just call him Welshboy. And you, good sir?
    Sir James: I am he who is called Bond, James Bond. No stranger to strong beverages am I.
    Harris: Oh, thine reputation precedes thee! “Shaken, not stirred”, eh? (They laugh.)
    O’Toole: Compared with us, dear boy, thou art but an amateur drinker.
    Sir James: No doubt. My companion and I-
    (Suddenly they art assailed by arrows from ye shore of ye river.)
    Burton: To our boat, apace! Reed, start ye motor!
    (Sir James and Twys leap onto ye other boat as arrows continue to fly towards them.)
    Harris: Down there, quickly- to ye bottling area!
    (Ye two varlets race down ye banks following the boat, under a sign reading “Bottling Area- Please Take Care.”)
    Sir James: So, there art five in thine party, eh?
    Reed: Once we were six, but one of our colleagues- from ye colonies, Lord Dean Martin- fell into ye river. It took a long time for him to die.
    Twys: Pray tell why?
    Reed: He got out four times to use the privy!
    (In ye bottling area, ye little orange men fire corks from catapults into the tops of bottles. Sir James and company duck down, but one of ye varlets slips and is struck by one of ye corks from behind in a most uncomfortable area.)
    Sir James: Oh! Skewered! One sympathises.
    (As ye boat leaves ye bottling area, ye remaining varlet continues to give chase.)
    Sir James: Where art we heading now?
    Burton: ‘Tis ye icing area- see, ahead!
    (Ye walls grow white with ice. Ye pursuing varlet slips, and ist crushed between two giant ice cubes.)
    Sir James: On the rocks…
    (Ye boat glides smoothly to a berth.)
    Burton: Most exciting this has been.
    Sir James: We thank’ee for thine help.
    Harris: No problem, this hast been fun.
    Twys: Methinks we should get out of here, Sir James.
    Sir James: Aye, let us go.
    (Ye little orange men watch them depart, then get back to their work.)

    Act 3, Scene 3. (Outside ye distillery.)

    Twys: What a beautiful carriage thou doth have.
    Sir James: Aye, they do not make them like that any more.
    Twys: Why hast thee lanterns under the sides?
    Sir James: That be under skirt lighting, and to improve performance behold, go faster stripes! Sir Vin Diesel did'eth pimp mine ride.
    Sir James: Aye, make them like this they do not any more. I prithee, please enter.
    (They set off. Unbeknownest to them, another carriage doth follow at a discreet distance.)
    Twys: Mmm, how comfortable thine carriage ist. What does this button do?
    Sir James: Don’t touch that!!! ("New Amsterdam, New Amsterdam" begins to play.)
    Twys: Hmm?
    Sir James: Er, I have had a few optional extras installed. Please, touch not anything else.
    Twys: Watch out for that man with green trainers!
    Sir James: What?
    Twys: Never mind.
    (Ye following carriage gets closer.)
    Twys: Sir James, that carriage-
    Sir James: - hath been following us for the last mile.
    (Ye varlets in ye following carriage let loose a barrage of arrows. Sir James swings his carriage to ye left and ye right to avoid them, but the pursuers get closer.)
    Twys: I behold a great shaft, Sir James.
    Sir James: Beg pardon, these tights are a little tighter than I......
    Twys: Mine!
    Sir James: Perhaps later, Twys, this is not ye moment for-
    Twys: Nay, that sign! It says “Mine”! Take that road, I prithee.
    (Sir James abruptly turns his carriage down the indicated road, with ye varlets overshooting ye cutoff and having to double back. Sir James and Twys arrive at ye mine but their carriage gets stuck on ye tracks leading into ye pit. With no time to waste, they go into ye mine.)
    Twys: Apace, Sir James, I can hear them gaining on us.
    Sir James: ‘Tis so dark, I cannot see ahead.
    Twys: Um? Go faster stripes, and under skirting lighting but no headlights? The rafters, they seem so low.
    (Sure enough, their carriage hits a rafter and ye roof ist torn off.)
    Sir James: Hmm, I had been meaning to get a sun roof fitted.
    Twys: Look out!
    Sir James: If there be a man in green trainers, I cannot see him.
    Twys: Nay, look astern. (Sir James pulls a serious face.) Nay, nay, look behind us!!!
    (One of ye pursuing knaves takes advantage of their roofless state and leaps onto their carriage. Struggling with one hand, Sir James uses his other hand to steer toward where ye tracks break off in a twisted manner.)
    Twys: Goddamn! What the... What ist going on? What the hell are you doing now, boy? You're not thinking...?
    Sir James: I sure am, girl!
    (Ye carriage leaps into ye air over a chasm, twisting 360 degrees. A strange whistling sound ist heard. Ye varlet falls out, and Sir James lands safely though Twys hast fallen into ye back seat.)
    Twys: Wowee! I hath never done that before!
    Sir James: Neither have I, actually…. Well, perhaps once, Twys.
    Twys: (Climbing back into ye front.) Thou art wonderful! Kiss me now, Sir James…
    Sir James: Why not?
    (They kiss, and their carriage smashes straight into a rock pile. They art knocked unconscious, and ye varlets carry them off.)

    Act 4, Scene 1. (A dungeon.)

    Sir James: (Awakening.) ...No Felix, it’s just the perfect size- for me, that is... (Awakens.) Oh, right…
    (Sir James sees he ist tied to a chair. Ye Comte de Blofeld stands before him, accompanied by two large henchmen.)
    Comte de Blofeld: Good evening, Sir James. I have been expecting thee.
    Sir James: I have heard that remark before, Comte de Blofeld.
    Comte: Really? I didst think I would be ye first to say that.
    Sir James: I do believe the first would have been mine mother, the Lady Monique. Anyway, Comte, I had thought thou were held captive in ye Tower of London.
    Comte: Thou must not believe everything thou dost read in ye "Daily Mail", Sir James. Or ye "Daily Express" for that matter.
    Sir James: Or "Ye Sun"?
    Comte: Most especially not. Thou hast been prowling around ye distilleries of Great Britain, hast ye not? Now, why would this be?
    Sir James: I like drinks, and I used to be a tippler.
    Comte: “Used to be”? ‘Tis not what I have heard.
    Sir James: What of it? And where ist Twys?
    Comte: Ye Apothecary Knightley? She doth have some most valuable information which I mean to possess- ye formula for ye “Bloody Mary”.
    Sir James: And what wouldst thou do with such a formula?
    Comte: Why, foment unrest in Scotland of course. ‘Tis symbolic of their Queen Mary and would drive ye Scots to seek independence and break up the United Kingdom at a most politically sensitive time.
    Sir James: Ye Comte de Blofeld, distributor and wholesaler of Bloody Marys.
    Comte: Wholesale? "Sell" Bloody Marys, for money?!
    Sir James: My apologies. I am sure thou would simply give it away.
    Comte: Excellent, Sir James, that ist precisely what I intend to do. Twenty hundred litres of it, to be exact. Man or woman, black or white, I don't discriminate. It should not be too difficult to persuade ye Scots to accept free drink.
    Sir James: That should make a certain group of politicians rather angry, wouldn't thou say?
    Comte: Angry? Why, my dear Sir James, it'll positively drive them out of their minds. I call this "Operation Yellowhammer", but I have wasted enough time upon thee- Guards, take Sir James to the archery range, present him to ye man of arms Sir Brucie Forsyth.

    (Sir James ist taken to a courtyard and placed in front of a target.)
    Sir Brucie: Would'st thee wish for a blindfold, Sir James?
    Sir James: Nay, thee only lives twice. Once when'st born and again when'st staring death in the face.
    Sir Brucie: Twice, eh? (Turns to ye archery yeomen.) Nothing in this game for a pair!
    (He walks back to his yeomen archers... )
    Yeomen: Doth that be a new uniform, Sir Brucie?
    Sir Brucie: Aye, shall I give thee a twirl?
    Yeomen: Fantastic as always, we'd score that a 10. Shall we post that with the others on your bedchamber entrance?
    Sir Brucie: Aye, Let’s have a look at the scores on the doors.... later. Now men, good aim, good aim!
    Sir James: Please do me the courtesy of aiming for my heart, for my love of Albion.
    Sir Brucie: Very well, higher,... higher....... lower, good aim, good aim!
    (Sir James pulls out ye blond wig given to him by ye Young Wizard and quickly dons it.)
    Sir James: Whiff whaff, I say, harrumph! Surely, men, ye can see that thine real enemy here ist not me but Sir Brucie! Let's Get This Done! Did I not print this on the side of a public carriage!
    Sir Brucie: What?
    Sir James: Oh yes, and I have been saying this for years. Why don't ye shoot Sir Brucie, not me?
    1st Yeoman: Hmm, this could be true...
    Sir Brucie: No, wait, I prithee, do not-
    1st Yeoman: Aye, men, change thine aim! We shall return to taking orders from Sir Larry Grayson!
    (Sir James takes advantage of this distraction to leap over ye wall...)
    Sir James: So long, suckers!
    (...only to find himself before another firing squad.)
    Leader: Ready, men... take aim...
    Sir James: Whiffle whaffle, whiff whaff, I say, harrumph! Surely, men, ye can see that thine real enemy here ist not me but thine leader!
    Leader: What?
    Sir James: Oh yes, and I have been saying this for years. Why don't ye shoot thine leader, not me?
    (As they begin to argue, Sir James sneaks away, slipping off ye blond wig as he does so.)
    Sir James: Nice to flee you, to flee you nice! This wig ist a most useful item, methinks. Lets me get Exit Done....

    Act 4, Scene 2. (Deep inside ye castle, the Comte de Blofeld sits on a throne surrounded by guards and attendants. Twys, wearing a gold bikini, ist chained to ye throne.)

    Comte: Now, my dear, thou willst give me ye secret recipe for ye Bloody Mary or face a fate worse than death.
    Twys: I have already sat through an Ed Sheeran concert, thou canst not scare me.
    Comte: You think not? Guards- ye blackboard!
    (Two of ye guards bring forward an old-fashioned blackboard. Ye Comte slowly pulls on a steel gauntlet.)
    Twys: Nay!
    Comte: But yes!
    (Ye Comte deliberately drags ye nails of ye gauntlet down ye blackboard, producing a most hideous screech.)
    Twys: Argh! Stop it! It doth sound worse than The Stevens who shakes in double denim..
    (Sir James quietly enters through a side door and is challenged by ye guards.)
    1st Guard: Hey, thou art not permitted in here.
    Sir James: I must speak to ye Comte.
    2nd Guard: Did thou not hear us? No-one ist to enter here.
    Sir James: Oh, right, I forgot. (Puts on ye wig.) Ah, mm, aha, I must speak with ye Comte.
    1st Guard: Why, you're a pretty little thing, aren’t you?
    Sir James: Eh?
    2nd Guard: Fancy a threesome, darling?
    Sir James: I hath had threesomes, foursomes, fivesomes, even sixsomes .... but then I stopped playing cribbage! ...Oh, you mean..... Oh!
    1st Guard: Come, my dark-haired beauty, Once you go evil Yeoman you'll be ruined for other men…
    Sir James: Dark-haired beauty…?
    (Sir James realises he has put on the wrong wig, so quickly changes to the magical blond one.)
    2nd guard: Er? Where'd she go? That was my future wife! Who are you, what doth thee want here?
    Sir James: I must speak to ye Comte. Wiff Wahff Ahhhh!!
    1st Guard: He must speak with ye Comte.
    Sir James: Take me to ye Comte now.
    2nd Guard: Aye, we will take thee to ye Comte now.
    Sir James: Thee have served thine master well, and will be rewarded.
    1st Guard: I hope it's book vouchers!
    (Sir James ist led to ye Comte.)
    1st Guard: Master. ‘Tis he who ist called Bond, James Bond.
    Comte: I told thee not to admit him!
    Sir James: I must be allowed to speak.
    2nd Guard: He must be allowed to speak.
    Comte: You weak-minded fools! He's using an old Tory mind trick.
    Sir James: Greetings, Exalted One. I know that you are powerful, mighty Comte, and with your wisdom I'm sure we can work out an arrangement which will be mutually beneficial and enable us to avoid any unpleasant confrontation.
    Comte: Ho ho ho! There will be no bargain!
    Sir David Dickenson: Aye even if it's as cheap as chips!
    Comte: Say ye well, Sir David. Hast thee finished arranging my baubles?
    Sir David: Aye my Master (He exits, removing some tight rubber gloves.)
    (Sir James looks at ye Comte's Christmas tree.)
    Sir James: Some interesting baubles indeed- these two look familiar...?
    Comte: Aye, they used to belong to a young wizard, of my acquaintance.
    Sir James: Whiff, whaff, you will release Apothecary Knightley and bring her to me.
    Comte: Thine mind powers will not work on me, Naught Naught Seven. I hath seen all the Lord Derren Brown's spectaculars.
    Sir James: Nevertheless, I'm taking Apothecary Knightley. Thou can either profit by this or be destroyed. ‘Tis thine choice, but I warn thee not to underestimate mine powers.
    Comte: Oh, I do not...
    Twys: Take care, Sir James! Thou art standing on-
    Sir James: Yuck! I did not know ye had a dog!
    Twys: Nay, Sir James, thou standeth on-
    (Ye Comte de Blofeld pulls a lever, and a trapdoor opens sending Sir James falling below.)

    Act 4, Scene 3. (A dark chamber. Sir James lands on ye floor, his blond wig falling from his head.)

    Sir James: Oooff!!!
    Twys: (From above.) Art thee all right, Sir James?
    Sir James: I think so. Fortunately, I landed on my copy of “Some Kind Of Hero” so that broke the fall.
    Comte de Blofeld: Now, Sir James, ‘tis time for ye to meet mine latest acquisition…
    (From ye shadows, a large orange beast lumbers into view.)
    Beast: No collusion! Build ye wall! Lock her up!
    Twys: Oh no- its a Wancor!!!
    Comte: Aye! One of my oompa-loompas fell into a vat of chlorinated chicken, and Trumped the rest. HE is the biggest of my creatures.
    Wancor: I'm the bigglest, the bigglest of all!
    Comte: Now bring popcorn and drinks, I intend to enjoy this to the full....
    (He places a hat on his head with the motto " Make SPECTRE Great Again!")
    Twys: How can you be so cruel?
    Comte: I was Lady Anne Widdecombe's dance teacher for two years.
    Twys: Now that IS cruel...
    (Ye Wancor heads for Sir James threateningly.)
    Sir James: (Desperately grabbing ye wig and slapping it on his head.) Ah, harrumph, thou must obey me!
    Wancor: Oh yeah? Lemme show ya...
    (Ye Wancor suddenly grabs Sir James by ye crotch.)
    Sir James: Argghh!!!
    Wancor: What? This is not what I am used to!
    Sir James: I bet ye feels a bit of a dick now, eh?
    (Sir James draws his dagger and pierces ye orange skin of ye Wancor. As with a balloon, it deflates quickly.)
    Comte: Curse ye, Sir James.
    Wancor: Oh, I'm melting, I'm melting!!
    (Sir James dives quickly through the gate ye beast entered from.)

    Act 4, Scene 4. (Sir James emerges in another dark cave, where he finds a dark block of stone.)

    Sir James: Now, what ist this…?
    (He examines ye stone, and finds a protusion on ye side which he presses. Gradually, ye stone melts away and a familiar figure emerges.)
    Lord Felix: (Awakening.) Oh James, don’t stop, that feels so wonderfu…. (Wakes up.) Ah. Hello, Sir James.
    Sir James: Lord Felix! Most glad am I to see thee.
    Lord Felix: How are we doing?
    Sir James: Same as always.
    Lord Felix: That bad, huh?
    Sir James: We must rescue my lady Twys Knightley from ye clutches of-
    Lord Felix: Twys Knightley? Surely thou doth jest!
    Sir James: I jest not, and I prithee do not call me Shirley.
    Lord Felix: Fair enough, how shalt we proceed?
    Sir James: Above us lies ye Comte de Blofeld and many attendants, and ye lady whom we must rescue.
    Lord Felix: I see, and where are the rest of your men?
    Sir James: 'Tis just thee and me, Felix.
    Lord Felix: Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!
    Sir James: But of course!
    Lord Felix: First, though, Sir James, I'm feeling hungry.
    Sir James: No problem- here, I have acquired some spinach.
    Lord Felix: I did not expect that.
    Sir James: No-one expects the spinach acquisition! Hmm.. gives me an idea...

    Act 4, Scene 5. The torture chamber of ye Comte de Blofeld’s castle. Twys ist held by two of ye Comte’s guards.

    Comte: Bring me the Cheddar, Parmesan, Wensleydale and Stilton!
    Twys: Nay! Don't tell me I'm to be.....
    Comte: Aye- thou art to be "Cheese Boarded"!
    Twys: Thou canst not do that to me- I am a vegan!
    Comte: Oh, I see. Better not do that then, don't want to offend anybody. 8-) Nevertheless, my dear, thou shalt tell me ye secret formula for the Bloody Mary!
    Twys: Never! Thou canst not make me talk.
    Comte: You think not? Now, guard- the rack!
    (Ye guard produces a plastic-coated dish-drying rack. Ye Comte de Blofeld looks at it in disbelief and clenches his teeth in an effort not to lose control. He hums heavily to cover his anger)
    Comte: You....Right! Tie her down.
    (Ye two guards make a pathetic attempt to tie her on to the drying rack.)
    Comte: Right! Tell me!
    Twys: Never!
    Comte: Ha! Right! Guardl, give ye rack.... oh dear.... give ye rack a turn.
    (The guard stands there awkwardly and shrugs his shoulders.)
    Guard: I....
    Comte: (Gritting his teeth.) I know, I know you can't. I didn't want to say anything. I just wanted to try and ignore your crass mistake.
    Guard: I...
    Comte: It makes it all seem so stupid.
    Guard: Shall I...?
    Comte: No, just pretend for God's sake. Ha! Ha! Ha!
    (Ye guard turns an imaginary handle on the side of the dish-rack.)
    Twys: I don't understand!
    Comte: Ha! Then we'll make you understand! Guards, fetch...THE CUSHIONS!
    ((A dramatic chord ist heard. Ye guard holds out two ordinary modern household cushions.)
    Guard: Here they are, Comte de Blofeld.
    Comte: Now, Apothecary Knightley – thou hast one last chance. Tell me ye recipe and where it ist made- two last chances. And where it can be found- three last chances. You have three last chances, the nature of which I have divulged in my previous utterance.
    Twys: I don't know what you're talking about.
    Comte: Right! If that's the way you want it- guard! Poke her with the soft cushions!
    (Ye guard carries out this rather pathetic torture.)
    Comte: Confess! Confess! Confess!
    Guard: It doesn't seem to be hurting her, Comte de Blofeld.
    Comte: Have you got all the stuffing up one end?
    Guard: Yes, lord.
    Comte: (Angrily hurling away ye cushions.) Um! She is made of harder stuff! Guards! Fetch...YE COMFY CHAIR!
    (A dramatic chord ist heard. We see ye guard’s horrified face.)
    Guard: Ye comfy chair????
    (Ye other guard pushes in a comfy chair.)
    Comte: So you think you are strong because you can survive the soft cushions. Well, we shall see. Guards! Put her in the Comfy Chair!
    (They roughly push her into the Comfy Chair.)
    Comte: Now- you will stay in the Comfy Chair until lunch time, with only a cup of coffee at eleven. (Aside, to ye guards.) Is that really all it is?
    Guard: Yes, sire.
    Comte: I see. I suppose we make it worse by shouting a lot, do we? Confess, woman. Confess! Confess! Confess! Confess!
    Guard: I confess!
    Comte: Not you!
    Twys: I didn’t expect a sort of Spanish Inquisition.
    (Ye dramatic chord ist heard again. The door flies open and Sir James and Lord Felix burst into ye chamber.)
    Sir James: NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to Albion.... Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as fear, surprise.... I'll come in again.
    (Exit and exeunt.)
    Twys: I didn't expect a sort of Spanish Inquisition.
    (Ye dramatic chord ist heard once more. Sir James and Lord Felix burst in.)
    Sir James: NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as: fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to Albion, and nice red uniforms - Oh damn! (To Lord Felix.) I can't say it - you'll have to say it.
    Lord Felix: What?
    Sir James: You'll have to say the bit about 'Our chief weapons are ...'
    Lord Felix: (Rather horrified.) I couldn't do that...
    (Sir James rushes Lord Felix off-stage again.)
    Twys: (Very flatly.) I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition.
    (Dramatic chord. Sir James and Lord Felix enter.)
    Lord Felix: Er.... Nobody...um....
    Sir James: Expects...
    Lord Felix: Expects... Nobody expects the...um...the Spanish...um...
    Sir James: Inquisition.
    Lord Felix: I know, I know! Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. In fact, those who do expect -
    Sir James: Our chief weapons are...
    Lord Felix: Our chief weapons are...um...er...
    Sir James: Surprise...
    Lord Felix: Surprise and --
    Sir James: Okay, stop. Stop. Stop there - stop there. Stop. Phew! Ah! ...our chief weapons are surprise...blah blah blah. Hey, where did Blofeld go?
    Twys: He got fed up listening to you- he's buggered off!
    Sir James: Oh. Then I guess we must do the same- to London, apace, I must consult with M!

    Act 5, Scene 1. Ye throne room of Sir Gareth Mallory.

    Sir Gareth: ... so ye Comte de Blofeld hast escaped... again?
    Sir James: Aye, mine liege, 'tis true- but not with ye formula for ye "Bloody Mary".
    Lord Felix: For Apothecary Knightley did not reveal it to him.
    Sir James: And from what I hear, Red Nicola ist doing very well without using said formula. Scotland doth belong to her, in ye most part, and statistically she doth outnumber Lord Boris and all others.
    Sir Gareth: What, then, do you suggest we do, Naught Naught Seven?
    Sir James: 'Tis my opinion we do nothing, sire. Sure I am that there will be some constitutional balls-up to prevent ye Scots from breaking away, at least for many years.
    Lord Felix: Hmm...
    Sir Gareth: Then let it be so... for ye moment. We shall not look into the matter any more.
    Sir James: Aye, mine liege. This is... no time to pry.
    Lord Felix: Oh, no...
    Sir Gareth: I thought I told you to stop doing that.
    Sir James: Oh yes, mine apologies.
    Maid Moneypenny: Sir Gareth, Apothecary Knightley awaits outside.
    Sir Gareth: Show her in, Maid Moneypenny, and I prithee join us.
    (Maid Moneypenny and Apothecary Knightley enter.)
    Sir Gareth: Apothecary Knightley, mine thanks for all thine help to Naught Naught Seven during this mission.
    Twys: Mine pleasure, Sir Gareth.
    Sir Gareth: Methinks 'tis time for a drink to celebrate!
    Sir James: Thine predecessor kept Bourbon in...
    Sir Gareth: I prefer wine. Maid Moneypenny, please do the honours.
    Maid Moneypenny: Of course. Sir James, would thee prefer sweet or dry?
    Sir James: Why, sweet of course- 'tis no time to dry.
    (All present throw things at Sir James.)

    (Exeunt omnes.)

    Barbel, Thunderpussy, Number24, Charmed & Dangerous
  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 31,538Chief of Staff
    Sir James Works From Home

    The throne room of Sir Gareth Mallory. Sir James enters.
    Sir Gareth: Over here, Naught Naught Seven. Sit ye down.
    Sir James: (Looking around, puzzled.) Greetings, mine liege, but... where ist Maid Moneypenny? I was looking forward to some witty and not at all sexist banter before reporting to thee.
    Sir Gareth: Maid Moneypenny hast chosen to be working from home at this time.
    Sir James: Working from home?
    Sir Gareth: Aye, and that ist what I do wish to see thee about. It is my wish that thou should do ye same for the foreseeable future.
    Sir James: What? Me work from home?
    Sir Gareth: 'Tis so. I shalt arrange for a number of willing maidens, at least one seemingly unbeatable henchman, and thine carriage, made by ye DB5th Earl of Aston and the Viscount Martin, to be delivered to thine abode.
    Sir James: But, sire....
    Sir Gareth: Oh, and of course a large supply of mead, but thou will have to shake and not stir it thineself.
    Sir James: Of course, mine liege, if this be thine desire. I shalt get to work straight away!
    Sir Gareth: No rush, Naught Naught Seven.
    Sir James: (Bewildered.) No rush?
    Sir Gareth: Aye. (Sighs heavily.) Thou cannot start until ye twelfth day of November.
    Sir James: Ye twelfth of November????
    Sir Gareth: 'Tis so. Now, on thine way, Naught Naught Seven.... but take thine time.

    In the Young Wizards chamber. He is in conversation with a young knight ....
    Knight: 'Tis all very interesting, Young Wizard, ye modern Knight must hath knowledge
    of many secret weapons
    Young Wizard: Aye, much stealth is needed in these modern times. Look upon this device.
    (Ye Young Wizard uncovers a wooden box with several switches and knobs.)
    Knight: Gadzooks! What is this wonder?
    Young Wizard: 'Tis a magical squeeze box.
    Knight: To make music?
    Young Wizard: Only laments.... For this knob when depressed, uses the squeeze action to
    fire a poison dart.
    (Enter Sir James as the Knight nods his head and asks another question, pointing at ye squeeze box.)
    Knight: And what doth that knob do?
    Young Wizard: Oh- He defends the realm and chases any maiden in a skirt!
    Sir James: A most accurate summation. Young Wizard, Sir Gareth hath decreed that I shalt be working from home for ye foreseeable future.
    Young Wizard: No problem, Naught Naught Seven, I shalt call upon ye later.

    A street in London. Sir James drives his carriage.
    Sir James: Hmm, now sure I am that mine abode ist here somewhere... Perhaps this one?
    (Sir James alights from his carriage and goes to a door marked "221B". A man with a moustache, carrying an old-fashioned doctor's bag, answers ye door.)
    Man: Yes?
    Sir James: Mine pardon, I did think that this wast mine house.
    Man: Nay, I think that thou art-
    2nd Man: Let me see, Watson.
    (Ye first man groans slightly as a tall thin man smoking a pipe walks forward.)
    2nd Man: I see from thine attire that thou wert once a sailor, but now work for, shall we say, an unspecified department in ye Ministry of Defence. And thine father was a Scot and thine mother Swiss. Thine carriage hast been modified in unusual ways- one of ye seats ist on springs, for example- and under thine left arm ist a holster holding a firearm, most probably made by ye Walther company.
    Sir James: 'Tis true, but at ye moment I do seek-
    2nd Man: For breakfast thou didst have scrambled eggs, and last night though didst consume rather too many glasses of mead, shaken but not stirred. Furthermore, thou wert with a woman in her early twenties with long red hair, an unusually long tongue, missing one of her stockings, about five foot five inches, with loose morals and a father complex. She didst enjoy taking-
    Watson: Enough, Holmes. This man ist merely seeking his abode.
    Holmes: Oh, right. Take ye the first on the right, then second left.
    Sir James: I thank'ee.
    (Sir James heads back to his carriage.)
    Watson: (Voice fading as Sir James leaves.) Really, Holmes, I wish you wouldn't do that.
    Holmes: (Shouting after Sir James.) And watch out for that man with green trainers!
    Sir James: (Driving off.) What did you say?
    Holmes: I said, watch out for-
    Holmes: Never mind.

    Sir James: Hmm, first right then second left...
    (Sir James arrives at his abode.)
    Sir James: Ah, here we are. 'Tis very rare that I am here, what with me spending so much time travelling to exotic places.
    (He enters to a very bare apartment, containing only a bed and a bar.)
    Sir James: Home sweet home. I hardly ever live at home - sleeping there happens even more seldom.
    (He kicks off his shoes, removes his doublet and heads to ye bar.)
    Sir James: Now, let me see...? Oh yes- Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of-
    (There ist a knock at ye door.)
    Sir James: Who ist there?
    Voice: Snow White.
    Sir James: With or without ye dwarves?
    Voice: Without.
    (Sir James opens ye door, to reveal...)
    Sir James: Lord Felix!
    Lord Felix: I bid thee greetings, Sir James.
    Sir James: Normally, I wouldst embrace ye warmly-
    Lord Felix: (Ruefully.) Or punch me in mine stomach.
    Sir James: ...but in these times that ist frowned upon. Let us do ye new plague greeting!
    Lord Felix: But of course.
    (Awkwardly they bump elbows. Then heels, followed by a knee bump and a medium headbutt.)
    Sir James: And what brings ye here, to mine abode?
    Lord Felix: Ah, 'tis a matter of importance. We must away, and tarry not for this ist a matter of great urgency.
    Sir James: Alack, not till ye twelfth day of November shalt we depart.
    Lord Felix: Surely thou art not serious?
    Sir James: Most serious, and call me Shirley not.
    Lord Felix: Then I must depart alone- farewell, Sir James, I hope to see thee soon.
    (Lord Felix makes his leave. Sir James returns to ye bar.)

    Sir James: Now, where was I...? Oh yes- Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of-
    (There is another knock on ye door.)
    Sir James: Oh, blast!
    (Sir James opens ye door to find a figure dressed all in white paper, with a mask covering the lower half of its face.)
    Sir James: Aye?
    Figure: Mmmf knff ummf tmm thkkk.
    Sir James: What?
    (The figure pulls down its facemask.)
    William of Tanner: Greetings, Naught Naught Seven, 'tis I.
    Sir James: Tanner! What hath brought thee to mine abode?
    William of Tanner: Sent have I been by ye Young Wizard to bring thee this parcel.
    Sir James: Ah, 'tis mine new sword, I have no doubt.
    William of Tanner: He hath begun using a new word, for which I hath never heard before- "contagious". Could ye explain, so I may better understand?
    Sir James : Aye, this a new scientific word which doth mean how the plague can spread across our realm.
    William of Tanner: Most interesting... could ye use the term " contagious " in a sentence for us?
    Sir James: Aye, I did ask the Young Wizard for this new sword and to comply with my request it took the "contagious"!
    William of Tanner: Huh? Kva? Brukar me engelsk? Please explain it to me ….
    Sir James: (Impatiently.) It took the cu-
    William of Tanner: Ah! I get it now, no need to tell me 24 times.
    Sir James: :D Also I'd like to point out it's a very, very, very old joke. ;)
    William of Tanner: Well, 'tis new to me. Now, Naught Naught Seven, I had best be on my way.
    (William of Tanner makes his leave. Sir James returns to ye bar, again.)
    Sir James: I'll get this drink yet. Now, six measures of-

    (There is yet another knock at ye door.)
    Sir James: Gadzooks! Who ist it this time?
    (Sir James opens ye door. An elderly lady appears and curtsies.)
    Elderly lady: Good morrow, s'.
    Sir James: Why, Maid May, my elderly Scottish treasure! 'Tis good to see thou finally appear in the story. Hast though come to prepare me a nice breakfast, scrambled eggs from French Marans he-
    Maid May: No, s'. I hast come for mine package - mayhap it was delivered earlier in this scene?
    (Sir James scrolls upward and recalls ye parcel from ye Wizard.)
    Sir James: Aye, May, ''tis true, a parcel was delivered, but it from mine colleague, ye Young Wizard. 'Tis marked "Open me not before November", and I believe 'tis for me. For what awaitest thou?
    (Maid May seems somewhat crestfallen.)
    Maid May: A package from ye big apothecary store, s', Amazonia. It carries some tatties and neeps. A haggis. Some Mars bars in ye batter. And some alcohol for double-cleaning the hands after washing. And some extra rolls of paper for ye toile-
    Sir James: Alcohol thou sayest? Kina Lillet? When finally, I can enjoy the Vesper I hath been attempting to make all this scene, I'd like it dry.
    Maid May: I'm afraid not, s'.
    (Sir James sighs.)
    Sir James: It seems then, 'tis no time for dry.
    Maid May: Since I am here s', I might as well clean the place up and make thee some food?
    Sir James: Why, of course Maid May.
    Maid May: I shall start in ye kitchen.
    Sir James: (Puzzled.) Kitchen? I did not know we did have a kitchen! I knowest where ye bed ist, and ye bar, but where ist this kitchen ye speak of?
    Maid May: (Long suffering.) In ye same place it hast always been, s'. Perhaps I should make a small fry up?
    Sir James: Nay, Maid May, 'tis no time to fry.
    (A carrier pigeon doth arrive, cooing gently. Sir James unwraps ye message from its leg.)
    Sir James: A message from Sir Gareth- he doth say... "I thought I told you to stop doing that."
    (Sir James doth sigh loudly... )
    Maid May: No time to sigh, s' .... no comfort in a sigh.
    Sir James: Ye sound like a minstrel, surely.
    Maid May: Alack, I am not Shirley. Or even Billie Ellish.
    Sir James: We shall just have to survive.
    Maid May: I shalt get to work in ye kitchen- ‘tis through that door there.
    (Maid May goes through ye door.)
    Sir James: Oh, is that what that door ist for? Oft have I wondered.
    (After a few moments Maid May returns and hands Sir James a cup.)
    Maid May: Here, s’, some coffee while ye wait.
    Sir James: I thank’ee.
    (Maid May returns to ye kitchen. Sir James takes a sip of ye coffee then spits it out in confusion and horror.)
    Sir James: Sugar??? All these years Maid May hast been making mine coffee and she hands me one full of sugar???
    (He goes into ye kitchen to find two varlets, one with Maid May in a neckhold.)
    1st Varlet: Take care, Sir James.
    Sir James: Ye had better hope that thou hath not hurt Maid May!
    2nd Varlet: Oh? And what do ye propose to do about it?
    Sir James: This.
    (Like lightning Sir James reaches for one of Maid May's patented eggs, hard-boiled for thirty-five minutes exactly, and unerringly throws it into ye First Varlet's face. Writhing in agony, ye First Varlet lets go of Maid May as ye Second Varlet makes to stab Sir James who expertly dodges his thrust and goes to draw his sword. It is stuck, and he struggles to draw it free from ye scabbard.)
    Sir James: Oh, shi-
    (Maid May kicks out at ye First Varlet's legs, sending him to ye floor. Instantly, she leaps into ye air and, seemingly in slow motion, thrusts both feet into ye Second Varlet's chest causing him to crash into ye wall, dazed. She then picks up a pot and smashes it into ye First Varlet's skull rendering him unconsc... uncon.. knocked out.)
    Sir James: Maid May! Hast thee had any special combat training?
    Maid May: Nay, I just do a little bouncer work at the weekends. And I used to be housekeeper to Sir Oliver Reed, this was a regular occurrence most weekends.
    Sir James: Now, where did that pigeon go…? Ah, here it is.
    (Sir James quickly writes a note and attaches it to ye pigeon’s leg before carrying it to ye window and setting it free.)
    Maid May: What art thou doing, s’?
    Sir James: I have asked mine liege Sir Gareth to send some men round to pick up these varlets. Now that I know where ye kitchen is, I do not want to step over them every time I go in there.
    Maid May: Hmm, I doubt if that shalt be often.
    Sir James: Now, I do believe it ist most definitely time for a drink! Three measures of-
    (There ist a knock on ye door.)
    Sir James: That was fast!

    (He opens ye door to find a most comely young maiden, accompanied by four of Sir Gareth's men.)
    Maiden: Greetings, Naught Naught Seven, sent have we been by Sir Gareth.
    Sir James: And very quickly, too.
    Maiden: We have received thine message- this team will take ye varlets away for questioning.
    Sir James: Most efficient.
    (Ye varlets are dragged away.)
    Maid May: Methinks I shalt go as well, s', all this excitement ist too much for me.
    Sir James: But of course. Fare thee well, Maid May.
    (Maid May exits.)
    Maiden: I thought I should stay, in case ye need help finding ye... stationery.
    Maid May: (Walking away.) Stationery? He cannot even find ye kitchen!
    Maiden: Whatever does she mean, Naught Naught Seven?
    Sir James: Oh I prithee, pray call me "Sir James".
    Maiden: Of course... Sir James. And I am Diane.
    Sir James: Diane what?
    Diane: Otherday.
    Sir James: (Aghast.) Diane Otherday???
    Diane: Aye, but please do not hold it against me.
    Sir James: That was not what I was thinking of holding against thee...
    Diane: Thine sundial, 'tis most attractive.
    Sir James: 'Twas made specially for me by ye Young Wizard- it is an enchanted sundial.
    Diane: Enchanted? May I see?
    (Sir James shows her ye sundial.)
    Sir James: What canst thou see?
    Diane: Why... (Reddening.) It doth show me in thine bed, murmuring "Oh James that was wonderful, do it again"!!!
    Sir James: Damn thing's fast again.
    Diane: A bit like thee, methinks.
    Sir James: Thine hose are very becoming, and most tight- how does one get into them?
    Diane: Thou could start by offering me a drink.
    Sir James: But of course- now, here ist ye gin, here ist ye vodka-
    (There ist a knock on ye door.)
    Sir James: Not again!!! I'll get that drink yet.

    (He opens ye door to find ye Young Wizard, carrying a satchel..)
    Young Wizard: Greetings, Naught Naught Seven. Sent have I been by Sir Gareth to equip thee for thine mission.
    Sir James: (Looking longingly at both Diane and ye bar.) Most efficient.
    Young Wizard: Thine attention I crave, Naught Naught Seven. Behold this most precious of all items! Sought by everyone, all over the world. See how it spins on my finger. Double-quilted, highly absorbent.
    Diane: You don't mean...?
    Sir James: It can't be...?
    Young Wizard: Yes! A toilet roll!!!
    Sir James: Don't suppose you have a packet of pasta as well, Wizard?
    Diane: It appears to have something written on it- let me see...
    "Now in times of want
    Use the both sides, not just the front
    Think of your friend too
    Roll back up all of the tissue"
    Sir James: Is this some sort of secret magic spell?
    Young Wizard: Merely good advice in these beleaguered times, Naught Naught Seven.
    Sir James: Well, since thou art here, Young Wizard, would thee care for a drink?
    Young Wizard: Well, 'tis lovely to see thee, Naught Naught Seven. Lovely. May I have one proleptic digestive enzyme shake?
    Sir James: (Shaking his head.) I do not think I have such a thing. Though I do have a toilet if you want to cut out the middleman.
    Young Wizard: Well, what would thee suggest?
    Sir James: I know just ye thing...
    (Sir James turns to ye bar.)
    Sir James: Now, let me see... Three measures of Gordon's gin, one measure of-

    (Two black-clad figures crash through ye window.)
    1st Varlet: Right, nobody move!
    Diane: What ist this?
    Second Varlet: Cover them, Mitchell.
    1st Varlet: Aye, Webb. Hand over ye toilet roll, apace!
    Young Wizard: No fear!
    Sir James: Ye toilet roll? But of course.
    (Sir James throws ye toilet roll at ye 1st Varlet, then throws ye contents of the drink he was preparing into the eyes of ye 2nd Varlet. A brutal swordfight erupts, and Sir James throws both ye varlets out of ye window through which they entered.)
    Diane: Oh look, one of them has landed on a railing spike and it went straight through his spine.
    Sir James: What a piercing bore.
    Young Wizard: "Piercing bore"? There ist no such expression!
    Diane: Well, ye railing ist right next to a crusher and 'tis pretty clear Sir James wanted to say "crushing bore" but he missed, so ist making ye best of a bad job.
    Sir James: Enough! I apologize. I’m really really sorry, I apologize unreservedly. I offer a complete and utter retraction. The imputation was totally without basis in fact, and was in no way fair comment, and was motivated purely by malice, and I deeply regret any distress that my comments may have caused you, or your family, and I hereby undertake not to repeat any such slander at any time in the future.
    Diane: All this excitement, 'tis enough to make one weep.
    Sir James: Nay, sweet maid, this is no time to cry.
    Young Wizard: Sir Gareth definitely told thee not to do that.
    Sir James: Aye, 'tis so. Now I must send out to have my window fixed. Young Wizard, I prithee, send workmen to fix mine windows.
    Young Wizard: I think I should do this apace.
    (Ye Young Wizard exits.)
    Diane: A cold wind doth blow through thine window now, Sir James. What shalt thou do to keep me warm...?
    Sir James: I know just ye thing. Now, three measures of...

    Barbel, Thunderpussy, Charmed & Dangerous, Number24
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