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

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  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief 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.)
    trek.jpg
    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-
    (Thump.)
    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?
    007.jpg
    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!
    dog.jpg
    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: 33,451Chief of Staff
    THE PROROGATION OF A TORY


    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.)
    007.jpg
    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.)
    bond.jpg
    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: 33,451Chief 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.
    2018-08-08-Hit-And-Miss-Leonard-Walker-COVER-rr.jpg
    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!
    007.jpg
    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!
    (Thump.)
    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: 33,451Chief 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-
    (Thump.)
    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
  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 22

     NAY, TIME TO DIE!

    Anonymous Contributor, Barbel, caractacus potts, Gymkata, The Domino Effect, Westward_Drift


    -----------------------------------------

    Act 1, Scene 1

    ------------------------------------------

    (Curtain opens on a snow-covered landscape, a lone figure hobbles towards a small homestead dressed as a snowman.

    Inside yon hovel, a lady lays on a couch as a young girl plays in ye kitchen while a bird faints in its cage.)

    Mother: Quickly Madeleine, my bowels do heave with great irritation. I doth need my medicine most quickly!

    (Madeleine turns to ye audience with a clothes peg on her nose as an escaping gas sound can be heard.)

    Madeleine: Yes Mama, doth thee need thine white medicine or ye red medicine? And where is Papa?

    Mother: Do you know’eth what thine father does?

    Madeleine: He be’eth a Physician, Nay?

    Mother: (Aside.) Physician Nay? That be’eth the first tale..... (Aloud.) He doth kill people.

    Madeleine: He doth work for Dignitas? Look Mama, a snowman is calling.

    Mother: Describe him to me, I cannot see through these heavy red curtains.

    Madeleine: He hath a snow arms, snow feet and...

    Mother: Snowballs! (She rolls two across the table.)

    Madeleine: I cannot see, but he hath a snowman mask and a carrot for a nose.

    Mother: Quickly- hide in Papa's secret room.

    Madeleine: Oh Mama, ‘tis not a secret room but A Man Cave- he doth keep his Gentleman's Special Interest Parchments, his chess set, and that signed portrait of Franz Oberhauser asking him to help on that Information Business idea.

    (She runs but too late- ye Snowman is in ye room.)

    Snowman: Where ist thine husband m'lady, and what be’eth that foul smell?

    Mother: Alack, my bowel is full of demons fighting to escape, sometimes I cannot hold them back.

    (Madeleine scurries to under ye sink to retrieve a small hidden dagger, she rushes forward to attack but falls sending ye blade into ye dying embers of ye fireplace sending up sparks, just as Mama releases a horde of smelling bottom demons, causing a huge explosion!)


    (Outside two locals take in the scene, as ye snowman flies up and over........ )

    First Local: He's flying very high #

    Second Local: Walking in the air....

    (Madeleine flies in ye opposite direction with one of ye red curtains around her.)

    Second Local: Is that a bird? Is it a plane?

    First Local: Nay, 'tis young Madeleine.

    Second Local: Nay, ‘tis Superman!


    -------------------------------------------------------------

    (A curtain covers most of ye Globe stage, acting as a painted backdrop. There is only a narrow bit of floorboard available in front of painted backdrop. Ye backdrop image depicts a frozen lake, with snow covered hills in ye distance. At the edge of ye frozen lake ist painted a house with its lights on, address Number 22 Frozen Lake Lane. Further in ye distance is a second house, Number 24 Frozen Lake Lane. Lights are all off in that house, Number24 is sleeping right through ye First Act!)

    (Madeleine emerges stage left, none the worse for her unscheduled flight. She is struggling to drag a heavy object by its shoes, which are an unfortunate shade of green. As she continues to struggle, gasping and pausing frequently to regain her grip, we now see ye object is a corpse, leaving a trail of blood on ye floorboards. As Madeleine reaches centre stage, she drops ye corpses legs, catches breath, and turns to ye audience.)

    Madeleine: Mama! Just killed a man! Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead. (Ye child’s voice rises in pitch and volume.) Mama, life had just begun, But now I've gone and thrown it all awaayyaayyy….

    (As Madeleine hits ye high note and holds it on ye second syllable of "away", ye "corpse" stirs, struggling to lean on his right elbow while lying on his back, and raises his left arm to project the actor's impressive voice.)

    Safin: So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye!!?? (Ye child stares dumbstruck.) So you think you can love me and leave me to die?!!? (Madeleine shakes her head.) Oh, baby!! Can't do this to me, baby!!!! Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here!!!!

    (Madeleine turns to ye audience looking like McCauley Culkin in ye Home Alone poster, and emits an earsplitting never ending scream.)

    -------------------------------------------------------------

    Act 1, Scene 2

    -------------------------------------------------------------

    (Ye forestage fades to black, leaving the child and corpse in silhouette, They exit stage discreetly as a painted backdrop curtain rises. Full lights come on revealing mainstage: a hotel room in Matera. Adult Madeleine, now Apothecary Swann, is in bed at stage left, snoring loudly.)

    Apothecary Swann: zzzzzz..... zzzzzz..... zzzzzzz..... zzzzzzz.....

    (Sir James Bond sits centre stage, enjoying a beverage while holding a printed broadsheet headlined "Ye Adventures of Bulldog Drummonde". His eyes squint and lips move, as literacy was less common in Elizabethan times.

    Suddenly Madeleine sits up in bed and screams, just as ye child did. Sir James jumps in his chair, drops broadsheet and beverage and spits out what he's been drinking, and after a second turns to Madeleine.)

    Sir James: What ye hell? I was pretending to read and you just...

    Apothecary Swann: I didst have a nightmare!

    Sir James: A nightmare? A nightmare! Canst thee not have one more quietly? (Madeleine gives him such a look.)...Er, that is, what I meanst to say dearest, was, er, was... what was this nightmare about? Pray, tell me!

    (Madeleine opens mouth, then pauses, moving finger to lips, facing audience thinking.)

    Apothecary Swann: Nay I cannot tell, not even to thee!

    Sir James: (Angered and suspicious, rising from chair.) Whatst’s all this? Thou dost have a secret! I knew it all along! (Turns to audience.) Didst I not tell thee all she hast a secret!!

    Apothecary Swann: Oh no I dost not! (Furtively rubs her belly.)

    Sir James: Oh yes thou dost!

    Audience: Oh no she dost not!

    Sir James: (To audience, shaking fist.) Oh yes she dost!

    One lone voice from back row: You idiot! Canst thou not see she is with Childe?

    Rest of Audience: Aye! That ist right! We've all figured it out!

    (Madeleine nods to ye audience, while Sir James waves his hand dismissively and turns back from ye audience.)

    Sir James: Bah, thou all art crazy!

    Apothecary Swann: Enough of this. We have come to this place because here is an old custom. Ye locals write down a memory they wish to forget, then set it alight. It burns, and ye bad memory is gone, forgotten.

    Sir James: And we both shall write down a memory, then set it on fire?

    Apothecary Swann: Aye, ‘tis so.

    Sir James: Very well. Let us do this. Thee first.

    (Madeleine takes a scrap of paper, writes “Spectre 2015” on it and sets it on fire. She tosses ye burning paper from ye window.)

    Apothecary Swann: And it is gone. For you, Sir James?

    Sir James: I shall do likewise, but I must do it at a certain place.

    Apothecary Swann: A certain grave? Do it if thou must.

    ----------------------------------------

    (Sir James, having been guided by a young man, stands at ye tomb of Lady Lynd. A likeness of her taken from “The Dreamers” (selected by Number24, but banned from being displayed here by Barbel.) stands above ye inscription:

    The Lady Lynd

    Vesper Lolita Emmeline Lilli Violet Ivy

    Emotionally, Sir James begins his Soliloquy at ye Tomb of Lady Lynd.)

    Sir James: Sweet Vesper

    Skewered was I when first we talked

    Of schools, and charity, and parents lost

    You thought me cold-hearted, and yet

    I would love thee whatever the cost


    We played our parts, we did it so well

    We acted in a play, or maybe a farce

    And in time I learned to love your face

    As well as your perfectly formed-

    (There ist a sudden explosion. Sir James is thrown back, pieces of stone miraculously missing him. His ears ringing, he spots a card on ye ground. It is ye dreaded Spectre Junior League Symbol.)

    Sir James: Ye dreaded Spectre Junior League Symbol! All ist now clear to me! Madeleine….

    (He begins to run.)

    -----------------------------------------

    (Sir James approaches Ye Nueva Locanda de Matera. He is out of breath from ye preceding chase.)

    Doorman: My Lord, art thou well? You look as if thou hast had a cannon fire in your face, fallen off a bridge, and raced through town at a swift pace.

    Sir James: More or less. I also rode a horse up a rampart and leapt over a funeral procession. Thou art very observant. Now, fetch mine carriage. It is the one made by ye DB5th Earl of Aston and ye Lord Martin…. Why doest thou not move? For what are you waiting?

    Doorman: Ye valet ticket?

    Sir James: Oh, aye, of course.

    (Sir James rummages through ye folds of his garment. He is both annoyed and sheepish. He finally finds a slip of paper and hands it to ye doorman, who goes to retrieve ye carriage. Apothecary Swann by coincidence is exiting ye inn. She is shocked by Sir James’ appearance.)

    Apothecary Swann: James! What tragedy has befallen you? (If only she were as observant as a doorman.)

    Sir James: We must flee. Death has not claimed ye past, but it will claim us if we do not leave posthaste.

    (Ye doorman arrives with ye carriage. Sir James hands a doorman a coin and he and Apothecary Swann climb aboard. A pigeon alights on ye bench next to Apothecary Swann. It has a tube strapped to one leg.)

    Sir James: Open it. I hear horses approaching.

    (Madeleine retrieves a letter from ye tube and ye pigeon flies off. She unrolls ye letter to reveal to us a drawing of an octopus on the rear of ye paper.

    Sir James flicks ye reins and they proceed down ye narrow street. Several men on horseback approach. Sir James increases speed but ye pursuers gain ground. One pulls alongside when ye street widens and slashes a sword at Sir James. Madeleine screams as it narrowly misses the pair. Sir James pulls a hidden lever (one of many as we shall see). A pole springs out from ye hub of ye front wheel, tripping ye horse next to them. Ye rider flies through ye air with a Wilhelm Scream and crashes into a storefront. Ye pole retracts.)

    Sir James: What dost yon missive say? Speak!

    Apothecary Swann: It is nothing but lies from ye Comte de Blofeld. He claims me to be a daughter of Spectre.

    Sir James: (Thinking.)


    I’ve loved you since I do not know when

    My dear most lovely Madeleine

    Though thine lips do taste of nectar

    Thou surely art a daughter of Spectre


    Sir James: (Aloud.) Perhaps thou art. They were waiting for me at ye tomb of Lady Lynd.

    Apothecary Swann: Why wouldst I betray you?

    Sir James: Alack, all of us secrets do have. To yours, we have not yet arrived… yet.

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 17

    (Ye carriage races down ye street. Two horsemen follow, but maintain a respectful distance, not wanting to repeat ye error of their compatriot. More horsemen appear in front of them. Sir James swerves his carriage down a neighbouring street. They enter ye Matera town square. All exit points are blocked. Sir James quickly pulls back on ye horses’ reins.)

    Sir James: (To his horses.) Whoa, Sir Sean. Whoa, Sir Roger.

    Primo: There is no escape for you, Sir James. Ye town bell will soon toll your demise.

    (Several henchmen pull out crossbows and bow and arrows.)

    Lady Madeline: James! Please! Save...us.

    (Big dramatic pause...)

    Sir James: Very well.

    (Sir James pulls on two other hidden levers. Ye packs on ye backs of Sir Sean and Sir Roger unfurl and cover them in leather and chainmail armour. A canopy raises from ye rear of ye carriage. When fully extended over the pair, Sir James reaches up and unrolls armour like that on his horses. Sir James and Madeleine are now completely enclosed, able to see outside through small slits in ye armoured fabric. Ye shafts of incoming light are very atmospheric.)

    Primo: Fire!

    (Arrows and crossbow bolts rain down on ye carriage, but bounce off ye armour. Sir Sean and Sir Roger are becoming very agitated as errant arrows strike them.

    Sir James grabs a firestarter from his corduroy doublet. Ye sparks alight a small piece of cloth. Sir James grabs two metal canisters from under ye bench, touches ye flame to ye canisters and throws them out toward his adversaries. Smoke begins to billow out, providing cover.)

    Primo: Advance on them! Do not let them escape into ye dark mist!

    (Sir James gives a cruel smile. He uses ye flame to ignite two fuses on the floor of ye carriage, then pulls on the reins and ye carriage turns. When the rear is facing Primo and ye archers the fuses ignite ye hidden rifle barrels in the rear of ye carriage. A dozen bullets fly out, slaying several men.

    Sir James whips the reins and ye carriage races toward a group of men blocking one street. Sir James pulls a lever and blades extend from ye rear axle. The horses trample several men while ye blades cut down those who tried to dive out of ye way.)


    Sir James and Madeleine have made their escape. As sunset approaches ye carriage and horses, now reset to their initial innocent appearance, approach a waystation in ye nearby town of Altamura.

    Apothecary Swann: Thou hast not spoken for hours….

    Sir James: It did seem I was expected- how could they have known this?

    Apothecary Swann: But surely thou do not think that….?

    Sir James: No-one else knew. Also, thou didst receive a missive from ye Comte de Blofeld.

    Apothecary Swann: But, James…. (She rubs her belly.)

    Sir James: But me no buts, fair lady. Now, out of mine carriage and wait here.

    Apothecary Swann: (Getting out.) But when shalt I see thee again?

    Sir James: Thou willst not.

    (Sir James goads ye horses, and poor exhausted Sir Sean and Sir Roger wearily begin to head off. Madeleine waits, aghast, at ye waystation. A young woman on a makeshift stage begins to sing….)


    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Intermission. A young singer, Billie, comes on and mumbles some words.

    -------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Young Singer: ...and its... (Inaudible) ... Nay Time to (Inaudible) ... something something Bad Guy ...

    Audience Member: Speak up!

    2nd Audience Member: Aye, no-one can hear you!

    Audience as one: Aye! That is right! (They grow restive.)

    3rd Audience Member: Dost thou not know how to belt it out to ye back row as didst Dame Bassey before thee?

    (Audience rises to their feet as a mob, and reach for their provisions brought from ye market.)

    4th Audience Member: (Facing backwards into ye mob and gesticulating.) Why didst they not get Safin to sing this song? He hast an excellent singing voice!!! Mr Showmanship they callest him!!!

    Audience: (In unison.) Thou suckest! Get off ye stage!! Boo! Hiss! Etc etc

    (And poor Billie ist pelted with rotten tomatoes and other sundry fortnight-old vegetables, as we begin ye Second Act.)



    ---------------------------

    Act 2, Scene 1

    ----------------------------

    (An alchemist’s chamber. Ye table ist littered with Alembics, Aludels, Crucibles, Mortar and Pessels, and other such typical Alchemical gear, and right in the middle of ye clutter sits a plateful of nice breads and cheeses (and whatever else Elizabethans ate for lunch). Two alchemists approach giggling, and with tongs carefully place a giant mutant flea in the middle of ye bread, then retreat.)

    1st Alchemist: This shall teach him for being ye most annoying of all alchemists.

    2nd Alchemist: Indeed, with luck he shall exit ye plot very early and we shall be ye only alchemists with any lines for the remainder of ye play.

    (Behind them are shelves full of squealing rats in cages, and glass vessels crawling with fleas are piled on ye tables before them. They both wear Plague Doctors' masks.)


    1st Alchemist: Here he comes now!

    (An annoying little alchemist enters, also wearing a Plague Doctor’s mask. He hears his fellow alchemists giggling, shoots them a glance, then lifts his mask ensuring he is two metres from fellow Alchemists. He picks up his loaf of bread to eat, then pauses noticing ye giant mutant flea crawling round, just inches from his open mouth.)

    Annoying Little Alchemist: Oh, you guys!

    (He opens a window to throw ye entire plate of food into ye street. Outside is a vast pyramid of rotting food, human waste and bits of human and animal corpses, with steam rising and vast swarms of flies buzzing over it, which ye passers-by must walk around or get their shoes dirty, as is typical in ye streets of Elizabethan times. Ye Alchemist's lunch lands on top with a “splat!”, momentarily disturbing ye flies. Our giant mutant flea then crawls off ye bread into ye pile of waste and immediately finds a rat to infect. Said rat in turn runs into ye street to bite the ankle of ye next passer-by.)

    Passer-by: Ouch! Damnable vermin!

    (He plunges a sword through ye critter. We now see that he is dressed oddly, in a Plague Doctor's mask and is accompanied by a large group of men similarly attired and all waving swords about. Other passers-by have to step in ye waste heap to avoid ye swords.)

    Men: To Evil! Yea, verily, to Evil!

    !st Evildoer: Oh, could this be ye address we do seek? (He reads ye sign slowly, literacy still being uncommon in those times.) “Ye… Olde… Al Capo…

    2nd Evildoer: (Suddenly afraid.) Al Capone? Hey Al, Al, don’t hold it against me!

    1st Evildoer: Nay, stop that! “Al Coho… Elke Sommer… Alchemist’s Shoppe?” Aye, it says “Alchemist’s Shoppe”! This is it, fellow evildoers, let us now enter!

    (They kick down ye door and enter with much noise, slaying indiscriminately- but for ye Most Annoying of all Alchemists who they allow to live, and indeed take away with them. They lead ye Annoying Little Alchemist towards ye right, but he pauses.)

    Alchemist: Tarry! I almost forgot ye most important item!

    1st Evildoer: What now? We have deadlines in this business.

    (Ye Annoying Little Alchemist climbs on a stool to reach a rat-cage on ye top shelf. Ye rat must be a Norwegian Blue Rat, for he is kipping on his back. With tongs, ye Alchemist retrieves one particularly nasty looking flea from ye dead rats fur and adds it to a glass vessel. This glass vessel is nearly full already with hopping crawling nasty looking fleas. Before he places ye glass vessel in his pocket, he holds it at such an angle that those audience members with opera glasses can read the text on ye label: Top Secret Evil Nano-Flea project. Client: SPECTRE (Crossed out.) Mallory (Also crossed out.) and finally Safin.)

    Annoying Little Alchemist: Now I am ready, let us depart.


    -----------------------------------------------

    Act 2, Scene 2

    ---------------------------------------------

     (A residence in Jamaica. Sir James returns from fishing, and inspects ye remains of a cigar which he finds.)


    Sir James: Hmm, “Delectados”? They are particularly hazardous to one’s health.

    Voice From Behind: And so art thou, mine friend.

    Sir James: (Turning.) Lord Felix! It hath been too long!

    Lord Felix: Aye, ‘tis so. I have come to seek thine companionship on a quest which I must undertake.

    Sir James: A quest?

    Lord Felix: An alchemist hath gone missing, and we must find him.

    Sir James: “We”? I am enjoying ye days of mine retirement, Lord Felix.

    Lord Felix: I cannot persuade thee?

    Sir James: Most surely not.

    Lord Felix: Well, I shalt be in ye tavern tonight. I prithee, join me, for old times' sake.


    (Ye local tavern. Lord Felix sits, nursing his drink, with a man with an unnerving smile as Sir James walks in.)

    Lord Felix: Ah, Sir James. I have been expecting thee. What would ye like to drink?

    Sir James: Mead- let it not be stirred, but rather let it be shaken.

    Lord Felix: But of course. (He places an order.) Let me introduce you to mine associate, Logan of Ashe.

    Logan: Most pleased am I to meet thee. Of thee I have heard a great deal.

    Sir James: Nothing bad, I do hope.

    Logan: Oh, nay- of thee I am a great admirer! I have all ye DVDs, most of ye books, a Corgi model of thine carriage, and-

    Lord Felix: Enough. To business. An alchemist has been abducted from London.

    Sir James: Alchemist, eh? First name?

    Lord Felix: Annoying Little. We have been tasked with finding this man.

    (Sir James’ eye is momentarily distracted by a tall, elegant woman passing by.)

    Sir James: Thine pardon, what did you say?

    Lord Felix: Careful now, Sir James.

    Sir James: Old habits die hard. Nay, mine friend, I shalt not be joining thee.

    (He gets up.)

    Lord Felix: I shalt be waiting here for when thine mind doth change.

    (Sir James walks to ye street, where ye lady is waiting in a carriage.)

    Elegant Lady: Care for a ride?

    Sir James: Why, we have only just met!

    Elegant lady: In thine dreams, grandfather. Pray, enter my carriage.

    (They set off.)

    Sir James: Thou may know me as Bond, James Bond.

    Elegant Lady: Nomi.

    Sir James: I know thee not- as I said, we have only just met.

    Elegant Lady: Nay, mine name ist Nomi. From Sir Gareth have I been sent, to seek thine aid in finding an alchemist who hast been-

    Sir James: - abducted from London. Aye, of this I have heard tell. I prithee, pass mine greetings to Sir Gareth and remind him that I have retired.

    Nomi: Of this he is well aware. Indeed, thou willst remember thine number, Naught Naught Seven?

    Sir James: But of course.

    Nomi: That is my number now. I am Naught Naught Seven.

    Sir James: ‘Tis a dirty job, but someone hath to do it. Nomi, I shalt not join thee in thine quest. I prithee, stop thine carriage.

    (A puzzled Nomi stops ye carriage, and Sir James alights.)

    Sir James: I thank ye for ye ride. I can walk from here.

    Nomi: If thou says so. But I have ye feeling we shalt be meeting again.

    (Nomi drives off. Once she ist out of sight, Sir James begins walking back to ye tavern where Lord Felix awaits.)


    Nomi: (In ye distance.) Is that all ye lines I get to say?

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 17

    --------------------------------

    ACT 2, SCENE 3

    --------------------------------


    (Ye Isle of Cuba. Sir James wanders into a tavern where a most becoming young wench awaits in a most remarkable dress.)

    Sir James: Greetings. I trust thou art Paloma?

    Paloma: Indeed, and I trust thou art he who is called Bond, James Bond?

    Sir James: Aye, ‘tis so.

    Paloma: I am most happy to be working with thee. Thou art only mine second assignment, you know.

    Sir James: Oh? And ye first?

    Paloma: An agent called Baines, but he was killed- up in ye hills down there.

    Sir James: ‘Tis a relief to know I am next in line for ye same kind of aid.

    Paloma: Thou shouldst not worry- for three weeks of training have I had!

    Sir James: Three weeks, eh?

    Paloma: Now, come with me.

    (She leads him down to a cellar.)

    Sir James: I am not too keen on thine decorator.

    Paloma: Nay, this is ye wine cellar. Now…

    (She begins to undo his doublet.)

    Sir James: Perhaps this is not quite ye moment…

    Paloma: Oh? Ah, I see. Behold!

    (She indicates a well styled black doublet and hose, from Sir Tom Ford of London.)

    Sir James: How did thee know mine size?

    Paloma: Well, I did guess that thou wert about five foot eight-

    (Sir James develops a sudden fit of coughing.)

    Paloma: …..er, six foot tall. Now, at haste!

    (Sir James changes into the outfit which fits him perfectly.)

    Paloma: Now, with me!


    (They walk down ye streets of Havana.)

    Paloma: Aha! (Points at address plate.) This is ye address of ye party we will be crashing!

    Sir James: I must say, I admire your ability to read an address without squinting and moving thine lips. and only three weeks training?

    (They enter. Ye party is dark and full of sinister people all dressed in black with pallid complexions and ornate jewellery)

    Paloma: This party ist some creepy scene, much like those Harry Potter Plays that used to be all ye rage.

    Sir James: Hmmm, this remindeth me of something- that SPECTRE meeting I crashed five years ago, same weirdo junkie-chic goth crowd! Ye other fellow told me SPECTRE meetings were much more conventional back in his day, I don't know why I get stuck with these Horror Play type SPECTRE meetings.

    (Blofeld's Field Rep descends a staircase holding an eyeball on a pillow before him. ‘Tis an Enchanted Eyeball. He presents ye Enchanted Eyeball to a tall pale woman with long black hair.)

    Blofeld's Field Rep: SPECTRE Agent Morticia, say hello to ye Comte.

    SPECTRE Agent Morticia: Why, isn't he cute! Hello little Comte, cootchie-wootchie-coo! May I pet him?

    Blofeld's Field Rep: How'd you like it if I poked you in ye eyeball?

    SPECTRE Agent Morticia: Why darling, you say ye sexiest things!

    Blofeld's Field Rep: Never mind that! (Turns to next SPECTRE agent.) SPECTRE Agent Fester, say hello to ye Comte.

    SPECTRE Agent Fester: Hiya Comte! Y'know, you and I have a lot in common! I like to take my eyeballs out and soak them in saline solution every night!

    Blofeld's Field Rep: SPECTRE Agent Cousin It, say hello to the Comte.

    Sir James: Thank God there isn't a SPECTRE Agent Lurch ... yet!

    (Suddenly there is a kerfuffle. Ye Enchanted Eyeball begins leaping up and down on ye pillow, making whistle and chirping noises.)

    Blofeld's Field Rep: What's that, ye Comte's Enchanted Eyeball? (Whistle chirp.) You say you've spotted an intruder? (Whistle chirp.) But, where?

    (Ye Enchanted Eyeball resumes its position on ye pillow, then rotates to stare fixedly straight in ye direction of Sir James.)

    Blofeld's Field Rep: (Points in ye direction of Sir James and a strangled voice screeches.) Cuckoo!!!!

    All SPECTRE Agents: (In unison.) Cuckoo!!!! Cuckoo!!!! Cuckoo!!!! Cuckoo!!!!

    Sir James: (Aside.) Oh good God, not this again! (Shakes fist.) Curse you, Comte de Blofeld, this "cuckoo" nonsense is why I chose to retire after my last Adventure! (Thinks: and Michael & Barbara are still negotiating their out-of-court settlement for plagiarism with Sir Michael Myers of Scarberia).

    Blofeld's Field Rep: (Turns to Annoying Little Alchemist who is suddenly at his side.) You there! Annoying Little Alchemist! Release the Evil Nano-Fleas and kill ye intruder in our midst!

    Annoying Little Alchemist: Sure boss, heh heh, I'll release ye Evil Nano-Fleas, and, er, kill somebody! Heh heh heh heh...

    (As ye Annoying Little Alchemist approaches Sir James and Paloma, Blofeld's Field Rep carries ye Enchanted Eyeball to a decorative box along a sideboard. The lid of ye box opens on its own, and a disembodied hand emerges, and waves. As ye Enchanted Eyeball is presented, ye hand reaches out to retrieve ye Enchanted Eyeball carefully, then withdraws into ye box and ye lid closes.)


    Annoying Little Alchemist: Heh heh heh, now we shall see my creation at work!

    (Sir James and Paloma make a grab for ye Annoying Little Alchemist, but Nomi descends on a rope and grabs him.)

    Paloma: What ist this? I thought I would be working with Sir James Bond, not Spiderman!

    Nomi: Nay, not Spiderman, but I shall be playing in mine next Play at ye Marvel WoodenStage Universe Theatre across ye street next month, once this long delayed production is over.

    Paloma: Oh those are always good, much more popular with Contemporary Audiences than these Plays, congratulations!

    Nomi: Thanks! And I much admired your performance in last years Play BladeRunner 1599. I was most impressed at ye successful use of pseudo-Elizabethan era retro-tech in that Production. But enough of yon girlish chit-chat, for now, we art rivals!

    (Sir James pushes Paloma and Nomi, holding ye Annoying Little Alchemist by ye scruff of his neck, behind ye bar.)

    Paloma: You're coming with me, Annoying Little Alchemist!

    Nomi: Nay, you're coming with me!

    Paloma: Uh-uh, he is now in ye custody of ye CIA!

    Nomi: Nuh-huh! He is now in ye custody of MI6!!!

    Paloma: Oh yeah?

    Nomi: Yeah!

    Paloma: Oh yeah?

    Nomi: Yeah!

    Sir James: Er, ladies? I do so hate to interrupt ye, but what's happening on ye dance floor?

    (Somebody coughs offstage, on ye unseen dancefloor.)

    Nomi: I don't know, the rhumba? The samba? The mamba? Some of these AfroCuban jazz groups are quite good you know, I wouldn't mind hitting ye floor myself!

    (Many more coughs.)

    Paloma: They certainly are working up a sweat!

    Sir James: ...and although we are in a tropical climate, it is night and there is a nice cool breeze off ye Caribbean so they shouldn't be sweating quite that much…

    (Suddenly ye sound of a sneeze: wahahaaaahaaaa-CHOO!!)

    Nomi: Oh, yuck! Oy, you cover your mouth with your hand when you do that!

    PalomaWhy does nobody sneeze into their sleeve like they're supposed to? Is that so difficult? Droplets all over ye place!

    (More coughs and sneezes and now loud moans.)

    Sir James: The first man who sneezed! His nose is turning black! That doesn't normally happen does it?

    Annoying Little Alchemist: It is working! Heehee! These are all symptoms! My evil invention is working!

    (Sir James, Nomi and Paloma shoot him a collective glare.)

    Paloma: Wow, they're really starting to boogie down now! I've never seen that dance move before!

    Nomi: Is it the pogo? The slam-dance? The mosh?

    Sir James: Nay- those punk rock dance moves shall not be invented for many centuries, so that can't be what they're doing!

    Annoying Little Alchemist: It is another symptom! They are having convulsive seizures! And see ye beautiful Buboes pustules forming on their necks! Heehee!

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 23

    (More moans from ye dancefloor, growing louder, more frequent.)

    Sir James: Symptoms of what?

    Annoying Little Alchemist: My new variant of ye Bubonic Plague of course! I did not dream it would work so fast! Is it not beautiful?

    Paloma: Yeccch, now their extremities are all turning black! They can barely stand on their feet anymore!

    Annoying Little Alchemist: Yes! Yes! That is ye gangrene! Another symptom! Hooray for my genius!

    Sir James, Paloma and Nomi: Ewwww…

    (In the midst of ye coughs, sneezes, and swelling chorus of moans and groans, above all we hear the sound effect of a whoopee cushion. Sir James, Nomi and Paloma's eyebrows all rise.)

    plllfffttt

    (Paloma scrunches her nose, waves her hand before her face, then glares towards her rival Nomi. Nomi scrunches her nose, waves her hand before her face, then glares towards her predecessor Sir James, of whom she is secretly jealous. Sir James scrunches his nose, waves his hand before his face, then glares towards the Annoying Little Alchemist.)

    Annoying Little Alchemist: (Shrugging his shoulders and giggling.) Sorry everybody, I just cannot digest this Latin American food with all its beans!

    Paloma: Thou art truly a pig!

    (Ye whoopee cushion sound effects continue.)

    Nomi: No listen, that sound (and stench) is coming from ye dancefloor!

    (From ye dancefloor: moan, cough, groan, plllfffttt!, groan, cough, plllfffttt!,moan, plllfffttt!, plllfffttt!...)

    Sir James: Another of your damnable symptoms?

    Annoying Little Alchemist: Yes! Yes! Now comes the Extreme Flatulence!

    (From ye dancefloor: ...plllfffttt!, plllfffttt!, plllfffttt!, plllfffttt!...)

    Paloma: Oh this is too horrible! They are being propelled forward by each whoopee cushion sound effect as if there were a Daemon in possession of their buttocks!

    Nomi: And now, ye forward momentum of ye emission of noxious gases causes them to bump crashing into each other! Tis like a human version of ye Bumper Chariots at ye Brighton Seaside Pier except more smelly! 

    Sir James: Oh this is too much, ‘tis just one blasphemous indignity upon ye human body after another! At least ye Globe audience is spared ye actual sight and must rely on our device of unreliable narration to imagine it! (Too bad about ye smell, though.) Annoying Little Alchemist, hast thee no respect for God's Finest Creation?

    (From ye dancefloor, ye whoopee cushion sound effects diminish and a new sound begins: ulp, gag, blurgghh...)

    Annoying Little Alchemist: ...and now! They shall begin vomiting blood! ha-ha-haha-hahhh!

    Sir James: Everybody down!! Now!!! (All four duck behind ye bar.)

    (An enormous geysering bucketful of red ketchup special effects sprays ye front of ye bar and ye mirror behind it, with drips slowly trickling down. Disgusting sound effects from ye unseen dance floor slowly diminish from more "blurggghs" to more moans, then a series of plops as ye bodies hit ye floor, then less moans, then finally silence.)

    (After five minutes, ye four characters tentatively raise their heads above ye bar and survey ye damage, saying "ewww" a few more times, then survey ye human wreckage. Ye entire Globe Theatre now really stinks from ye Extreme Flatulence, ye stage hands shall not be able to remove this smell for months.

    Finally ye dance floor is revealed and despite all ye bloody vomit ye corpses appear intact, except that they are now all identical somewhat chubby white men in suits with unruly blond haircuts. They are not quite dead yet but lying collapsed on ye floor, twitching and compulsively making excuses about being at ye party.)

    BoJo 1: I wasn't at the party.

    BoJo 2: There was no party!

    BoJo 3: I was there but it wasn't a party, it was a work event.

    BoJo 4: Nobody told me parties were illegal! How was I to know? I'm the real victim!

    BoJo 5: It is Prime Ministerial prerogative to go to any party I choose to.

    BoJo 6: In fact it is my duty, to enjoy the parties that the "hoi polloi" cannot, on their behalf! It is a noble sacrifice!

    Annoying Little Alchemist: I'm truly sorry, I did not foresee this horrific symptom!

    Sir James: What dost thou mean?

    Annoying Little Alchemist: This is ye BuBorisic plague!

    Sir James: Thou art indeed a monster most foul, I swear thou shalt pay for this!

    Bojo 7: plllfffttt!

    Nomi: Look out!

    (More guards appear, and battle rages.)

    Sir James: Hark, fair Paloma. I know that you are busy but, pray, prepare for this battle to end. Ye curtain is preparing to fall anon.

    (Paloma continues fighting.)

    Paloma: I need one minute, Sir James.

    (Ye fighting continues with Paloma, James, and Nomi continuing to fight ye bad guys. Much to the delight of Sir James, Paloma displays impeccable fighting ability, only exceeded by ye ability of her dress to stay in place during some remarkable moves. Sir James, on an upper balcony, falls to ye ground floor and lands on a bar. Getting up, he rapidly gathers ye makings for a drink while Paloma races over, armed with fresh guns.)

    Sir James: Three weeks training? Fair Paloma, you are surely taking me for a fool.

    Paloma: 'Tis true, good sir. More or less.

    Sir James: More or less indeed. We are still in need of a vehicle post haste.

    Paloma: I shall fetch one, worry not.

    Sir James and Paloma: Salut!

    (After finishing their drinks, they proceed to go outside with their fresh guns and finish ye battle, nimbly capturing ye scientist from Nomi.)

    Nomi: Hoy!

    Sir James: Forgive me, fair Nomi. Also, we must take thine craft.

    (Sir James, Paloma, and their captive race towards a door.)

    Paloma: Enter anon! 'Tis a faster route towards our goal!

    (Ye three race through ye building.)

    Paloma: Sir James, I can go no further. Alas, I must leave you here.

    Sir James: Fair maiden, thou art most excellent.

    Paloma: And you as well, my lord. You must not be in such a hurry next time...

    -------------------------------------------

    (A ship.)

    Sir James: Look, Lord Felix, I bring thee ye Annoying Little Alchemist.

    Lord Felix: I never had any doubt you would, Sir James.

    Logan of Ashe: I thank’ee, Sir James. Now, Annoying Little Alchemist, hast thee brought thine satchel of interest?

    Annoying Little Alchemist: Oh yes, I have-

    Sir James: Hold, let me see what ist in yon satchel.

    Logan of Ashe: Nay, ‘tis for me.

    Lord Felix: Now, hold on just one-

    (They struggle. Sir James manages to have a quick look in ye satchel- his eyebrows raise as he sees ye name "Mallory". Logan of Ashe stabs Lord Felix with his sword. Sir James goes to help Lord Felix, and Logan of Ashe kicks the pair down below and locks ye door before scuttling ye vessel.)

    Logan of Ashe: Now, come ye with me.

    (He forces ye Annoying Little Alchemist into a small boat, and they depart. Down below, Sir James and Lord Felix struggle against ye incoming water.)

    Lord Felix: Gravely wounded am I, Sir James. Abandon me and save thineself.

    Sir James: Never!

    (He tries to save Lord Felix, but ye pull of ye water ist too strong.)

    Lord Felix: (Weakening.) Worry ye not, Sir James, for I must surely survive. After all, I still have both mine arms and legs.

    Sir James: I am afraid, I am petrified. I do not think I can get by without you by my side.

    Lord Felix: (Struggling for strength.) All will be fine. Never mind, Sir James, I will call ye at ye end of this adventure and we will tell jokes as if nothing ever happened. I shall flirt with a nurse and you will watch a gigantic stone fish wink at thee.

    (And with that, Lord Felix dies in Sir James’ arms. Aghast, Sir James watches as his best friend goes beneath ye water. He comes to his senses and manages to open a door, eventually finding a small boat upon which he shall be found later by ye Royal Navy.)

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 23


    ------------------------------------------------------------------

    Act 3, Scene 1

    -------------------------------------------------------------------

    A garage. Sir James enters from stage right, nearing a carriage which ist covered by a tarpaulin. He reaches over and takes ye tarpaulin off, revealing an older style carriage (perhaps 30 years older, give or take, from current design).

    Sir James: Truly, a vintage conveyance to serve my needs.

    (As he nears it, an older Welshman enters ye garage. He is clearly weeping from distress.)

    Welshman: Hold! That ist MINE carriage!

    Sir James: At one time, perhaps it was. 'Tis mine now...you may leave.

    Welshman: I call upon thee to watch thine tongue! I did this long before you did and you should be wise to give your elders more respect!

    (Sir James laughs.)

    Sir James: Thou wert unloved back then and doubly unloved now. Enjoy thine retirement with ye others.

    (Sir James attaches two horses to ye reins.)

    Sir James: Hey there, Sir George. Hold fast, Sir Pierce.

    Welshman: What? No Sir Timothy?

    (The Welshman harumphs and leaves. Sir James enters ye carriage and drives off.)

    -----------------------------------------------------

    Act 3, Scene 2

    ---------------------------------------------------


    (Sir James drives his carriage to just outside ye building where Sir Gareth and his entourage await. He parks, casually.)

    Warden: Hey, no parking here!

    (Sir James rapidly dons a white wig and an eyepatch.)

    Warden: Oh, pardon, Monsieur Largo.

    (The warden wanders off and Sir James enters ye building, removing ye wig and eyepatch. He approaches ye desk.)

    Attendant: Aye?

    Sir James: I am he who is called Bond.

    (Ye attendant looks on blankly, obviously expecting more.)

    Sir James: ….James Bond?

    (There ist no reaction. Sir James addresses ye audience.)


    It comes to this, I stand alone

    My name no longer always known

    From one too young to know the facts

    Of how I saved the world from Drax


    And Stromberg too, the list is long

    In words and pictures, on and on

    Great tales of battles, thrills and shocks

    Inside volcanoes and Fort Knox

    Of magic cars, and climbs and falls

    And one who died to scratch my-


    (Enter Maid Moneypenny.)

    Moneypenny: ‘Tis all right, Higgins, he is expected.

    (Moneypenny leads Sir James through ye corridors.)

    Moneypenny: It has been a while, has it not?

    Sir James: Aye, ‘tis so.

    Moneypenny: Didst thee enjoy thine fine retirement?

    Sir James: Oh, do be silent.

    (As they walk toward ye throne room of Sir Gareth, they are joined by Nomi.)

    Nomi: So! Thou hast returned, as we have expected.

    Sir James: ‘Twas ye only thing left to do.

    Nomi: Pray, Sir James... where ist ye Annoying Little Alchemist?

    Moneypenny: Most curious! I see that you have made fast friends, Sir James!

    (Outside Sir Gareth’s door, a secretary awaits.)

    Secretary: Good morrow, Naught Naught Seven.

    Nomi: That must be troublesome to you, true? And my question remains unanswered... where ist ye Annoying Little Alchemist?

    Sir James: Alas, he hath departed for greener pastures with someone else.

    Moneypenny: Naught Naught Seven, he will see you now.

    Sir James and Nomi: Thank you.

    (Nomi and Sir James both make to enter at ye same time. They wedge shoulders against ye doorframe and each other so neither can move further, then exchange glares realising they are both stuck.)

    Nomi: What makes you think he meant you, geriatric?

    Sir James: What makes you think he meant you, whippersnapper?

    Moneypenny: No, not thee, Naught Naught Seven- Sir James.

    (Nomi quietly fumes as Sir James goes through ye door.)

    Nomi: Is that it? Do I not get any more lines?


    ------------------------------------------------

    ACT 3, SCENE 3

    -----------------------------------------------

    Sir James enters M's office. Sir Gareth Mallory is behind his desk with a large bottle of dark liquor in front of him. A glass of fine crystal sits in his hand, full of the liquor. Sir James walks over and sits at M's desk. M takes a drink and refills his glass.

    Sir James: Dost mine eyes deceive me or ist thine desk...bigger? Mayhap, perhaps thou art...smaller!

    M: Sir James...(Takes a drink, refills glass.)… I would not be truthful if I said that you were not missed. Alas, most of us thought that you had perhaps passed on. While it pleases me immensely that you are in fact alive, your sudden service with the CIA is troublesome. Troublesome! I say, most troublesome! (Takes a drink, refills glass.)

    Sir James: Think on it not. They asked with the greatest of care and I was obliged to agree to their request for assistance.

    (Sir Gareth takes a drink...refills his glass. He's a tad unsteady.)

    M: Indeed...(Takes a drink, refills glass.)… I must say, your intrusion in these matters has caused us quite a mess that must be cleaned up.

    Sir James: Blame me not, 'tis a mess of your own doing and ye knowest this. The Comte de Blofeld made a serious attempt at my demise in Cuba. To my good fortune, his plan was changed by someone else, resulting in the demise of all of SPECTRE using your weapon. And now, your cursed weapon is free upon the world!

    (M takes a drink, refills his glass. Sir James begins to look a little concerned.)

    Sir James: Thus, I return. Like the prodigal son, I'm back to assist his family.

    M: Resht assured...(Takes a drink, refills glass.)… we art handling the matter.

    Sir James: Rest assured thine ownself… I can identify the culprit who hath absconded with ye Annoying Little Alchemist, but I shalt require access to… Ye Comte de Blofeld.

    M: You ashk the impossible. (Takes a drink, refills glass… burps. He almost misses ye bar when setting ye bottle back down.) The shwine has been secreted away in Belmarsssssssh.

    Sir James: Indeed, I am aware of this fact. Art thou aware that he led a SPECTRE meeting from Belmarsh? Were you aware that he utilized the dark sorcerers’ arts to attend that meeting? He had a crystal ball!

    M: That is an impossibility!

    Sir James: Pray, why did thou not shut down your most vile flea program?

    M: To thee, I owe no explanay…. Ex(hic!)planay...shun! To England, most assuredly… to you, I do not!

    Sir James: And Lord Felix? Do you answer to him? That would a most interesting affair if that were the case considering that yon good man has passed off of this mortal coil.

    M: Alas, I did not know this. I tender my apologies for hish losh… loss. Felix was the very best of us.

    (Pause. M takes a drink refills, refills glass… loud belch.)

    M: Again, I musht query...dost thou have pertinent information?

    Sir James: For that, I require access to ye Comte de Blofeld at Belmarsh post haste.

    M: It ish not possible. For you to, you know… the Comte de Blowfish. Vishit him.

    (Ye liquor bottle is now empty. M rather unsteadily stands up and goes to a table behind him to get another bottle.)

    Sir James: Ye GODS, man! Thou art as thirsty as a man trapped in the desert for a week!

    Sir Gareth: Hold thine tongue! Thou art completely out of line! Or something. Thou art a part of the solution...no, a part of the problem...yesh, the problem, not a part of the solution. Shtay and help or leave now. Goodbye! Poneymenny! Shend in Naught Naught Aught Aughta remember it by now...Seven!

    Sir James: (Sotto voce, to the audience as he leaves, passing Nomi on her way in.) Indeed, it IS the same desk as before!

    M: (To Nomi.) I entrusht you with a moist, serious task. Thou musht go to Belmarssssh and check on the Comte de Blueface with haste.

    Nomi: Upon my shoulders you may rely! My word, it doth smell as heady as a distillery in here!

    (Sir Gareth takes a drink, collapses into his chair.)

    Nomi: It looks like I won't be getting any more lines here, either.

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited March 4

    -------------------------------------------

    Act 3, Scene 4

    ------------------------------------------

    Ye dwelling of ye Young Wizard. He is happily stirring pots of food, and ye table is set for two with candles and wine. There is a knock on ye door.

    Young Wizard: So soon? I didst think I had another twenty minutes.

    (He pushes aside two bald cats and a bear with a red hat and a blue coat then answers ye door, to find Sir James and Maid Moneypenny who brusquely enter.)

    Sir James: Greetings, Young Wizard, I have missed thee.

    Moneypenny: Greetings, Young Wizard.

    Young Wizard: Naught Naught Sev- I mean, Sir James! I had thought thee retired, or mayhap dead at ye hands of Spectre.

    Sir James: Aye, well, that ist exactly what I am here about. And Spectre shalt be doing no more killing, of anybody.

    Young Wizard: I prithee, another time. I am expecting a guest- he shalt be here soon.

    Sir James: Ah, wine.

    (He pours two glasses for himself and Maid Moneypenny.)

    Young Wizard: Touch ye not! That ist for mine meal!

    Moneypenny: Cheers, Sir James.

    Sir James: Bottoms up.

    (They drink.)

    Young Wizard: Do not touch that!

    Moneypenny: Young Wizard, we do require a look in thine crystal ball.

    Young Wizard: Now? Canst I not have one nice evening?

    Sir James: ‘Tis most urgent. And Maid Moneypenny, I prithee, may I have another glass of yon wine?

    Moneypenny: Of course.

    Young Wizard: I prithee, not ye wine! He shalt be here any minute!

    Moneypenny: (Pouring.) Here thou art, Sir James.

    Sir James: I thank ye.

    Moneypenny: Now, let us make room on ye table for ye Young Wizard’s crystal ball.

    Young Wizard: Oh, not ye table! It did take me hours to get it perfect like that!

    Sir James: Now, if I just put ye crystal ball here…

    Young Wizard: Oh I prithee, not there! Do not disturb ye flowers!

    Sir James: Now, Young Wizard, look into thine crystal ball…. Tell me what you see about Spectre and fleas.

    Young Wizard: (Suspicious.) Fleas? Art thou here with permission of M?

    Moneypenny: Most definitely not.

    Young Wizard: I canst not tell ye. I see nothing, I know nothing.

    Sir James: Look, Wizard, many have died on account of these fleas and many more will die unless ye help us!

    Young Wizard: …Well… I see that all of Spectre are now dead.

    Sir James: Not quite all.

    Young Wizard: Nay, ‘tis true. I see ye Comte de Blofeld. He lives, imprisoned in gaol.

    Moneypenny: And what else?

    Young Wizard: I see that many more will die, including…

    Sir James: Aye?

    Young Wizard: Including all of us who pay allegiance to Sir Gareth!

    Moneypenny: More wine?

    Sir James: Aye, I do think so.

    Young Wizard: Oh nay, I prithee-

    (There is a knock on ye door.)

    Sir James: ‘Twould be best if thou do answer it, methinks?

    Moneypenny: Aye, best not keep William waiting.

    (Ye Young Wizard opens ye door, to find William Of Tanner with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in ye other.)

    Tanner: Ah… hello.

    Young Wizard: (Shocked.) Ye did know?

    Moneypenny: Of course we knew.

    Sir James: What we did not know was that it was supposed to be a secret!

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 20

    ---------------------------------------------

    ACT 3, SCENE 5

    ---------------------------------------------

    Ye banks of ye ancient river Thames.

    (A painting of London provides ye backdrop. The set itself is of a bridge along ye Thames. Sir James enters from stage left. M is already waiting, leaning against ye bridge wall itself, and holding a pack of ice to his aching head.)

    Sir James: Apothecary Swann! Art thou mad???

    M: Truly thou art to blame, Sir James. You provided ye information five years ago and we took it quite seriously. You should be aware that nothing has arisen since then.

    Sir James: I must ensure thou hast true knowledge of her. She ist incredibly smart, clever as can be, and adept at concealing facts. Ye must be cautious.

    M: We exercise extreme caution around her, be assured. However, she ist ye only person to whom ye Comte de Blofeld will converse.

    Sir James: I question your judgment, good Sir Gareth! I question it most severely!

    (M pauses a second. With an edge to his voice, he continues.)

    M: I am here to save lives. To do so, I have utilized that weapon for its desired purpose and in ye process save the lives of our people. Think of it as an arrow shot with purposeful accuracy, always hitting its desired target and dispatching ye enemy without provoking ye slightest care in others.

    (He pauses, looking hard at Sir James.)

    M: But yes... It had to be done in a most secret fashion. We had to be careful of loose lips, as it were. Too many eyes, too many secrets to be divulged.

    Sir James: Our enemies would kill for such a weapon. Zounds, thou must know this!

    M: Pray, Sir James... If an error has been made, let ye blame for such an error rest upon my troubled shoulders. None other should carry this weight. I serve this country. I have dedicated my life with zeal to protecting this country and ye people in it. But times have changed and ye methods of combatting our enemies have changed. We must change with ye times as well. Search your feelings, you know this to be true.

    Sir James: Ye Comte de Blofeld…. We were successful in ascertaining ye targets.

    M: Pray! Clarify what is meant by ye use of 'we' in thine last sentence!

    (Sir James looks at M, gives him a knowing look.)

    M: Oh for (Sudden coughing in ye audience.) sake! (Ye coughing continues.) you and your insistence on involving others! Why must you be such a horse's (Loud cough.) all of ye time!

    (He pauses.)

    M: And after ye Comte? I must know what it is that they want?

    Sir James: I know not. I can truly only imagine... Imagine all the people. ‘Tis easy if ye try. Leaders of the world, ye kind and gentle folk of all nations, everyone.

    M: Indeed… The usual. Always ye usual. They never seem to go for anything more atypical, do they? Can we not get someone who just wants a free lunch somewhere?

    (M and Sir James share a light laugh.)

    M: Ye Comte de Blofeld was in contact with his surrogates on ye island of Cuba. Magic was employed in ye form of a crystal ball... A crystal ball which we now have in our possession thanks to you!

    Sir James: Foul witchcraft!

    M: Indeed. Ye dark arts. Ye annihilation of SPECTRE shall have an impact, thou must know this. Ye person or persons behind this act are not to be taken lightly, Sir James. They are strong and they are powerful... Well nigh omnipotent. I find that I must put my reliance and trust upon you to find out all that you can.

    Sir James: Fear not, good sir. I am well and truly your man.

    (William Of Tanner joins them.)

    Tanner: Ah…. Er… Sir James! Most surprised am I to see thee!

    M: Come off it, Tanner, thou does not fool me for an instant. So, thou art in on this as well?

    Tanner: Mine liege?

    M: If thou art involved, then surely ye Young Wizard ist also?

    Tanner: What? You know?

    M: Of course I do, was it supposed to be a secret?


    -----------------------------------------

    ACT 3, SCENE 6

    ----------------------------------------

    A Gaol. Sir James Bond and William Of Tanner walk down a corridor.


    Tanner: I know not why thou shouldst want to see him anyway, Sir James. He is as loony as a lunchboxful of lemurs.

    Sir James: Come again?

    Tanner: As crazy as a capful of cats?

    Sir James: Surely you mean as potty as a purseful of puffins?

    Tanner: Nay, as peculiar as a pocketful of pandas!

    Sir James: As wacky as a walletful of wasps!

    Tanner: As batty as a batch of beetles!

    Together: As mad as a bag of bees!

    Sir James: Phew, that took some doing to come up with an analogy as weak as that one.

    Tanner: Ah, we art here. Now, I prithee, remember Sir James: Do not touch or approach him. Pass him nothing but soft paper. No pencils or pens. No staples or paperclips in his paper. If he attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it.

    Sir James: Relax, Tanner, I will not….

    (Sir James spots Apothecary Swann, walking down an adjacent corridor with Nomi.)

    Tanner: Aye?

    Sir James: I…. I…..

    (As Sir James dissolves into incoherence, Nomi sees her chance.)

    Nomi: I think-

    (Apothecary Swann slams a door in her face, as Sir James does ye same to William Of Tanner.)

    Apothecary Swann: What art thou doing here?

    Sir James: (At ye same time.) What art thou doing here?

    Both: What art thou-

    (They stop and stare.)

    Apothecary Swann: You first.

    Sir James: Nay, nay, thee first.

    Apothecary Swann: After all these years, thee again!

    Sir James: Tell me!

    Apothecary Swann: Nay, you tell me!

    Sir James: Willst thee ever tell me thine secret?

    (Sir James grabs Madeleine by ye arm. She shakes him off, angrily, but not before a flea has crossed over between them.)

    Apothecary Swann: Secrets! Always with thee it is secrets!

    Sir James: Well, I am a secret agent- ye clue ist in ye name.

    Apothecary Swann: Secrets may be strong enough for a man, but they are made for a woman.

    Sir James: Is this always so?

    Apothecary Swann: Enough! Go see ye Comte thineself!

    (Madeleine angrily stomps off.)


    (Sir James walks down ye corridor. Ye inmates there hiss at him and speak in total madness, one even quoting directly from ye speeches of Boris Johnson. Finally he arrives at ye cell of ye Comte de Blofeld. Ye Comte stands waiting.)

    Comte: That ist ye same atrocious cologne thou did wear in court.

    Sir James: Greetings, Comte, may I speak with thee?

    Comte: Oh, so formal Sir James. There ist no-one else present, unless ye be dishonourable enough to have others listening through ye walls. Thou can call me “Ernst”.

    Sir James: Never will that happen, unless Eon get things even more wrong than they have been doing recently.

    Comte: Thou art once more owing allegiance to Sir Gareth, is that not the case?

    Sir James: Aye, ‘tis so.

    Comte: May I see thine credentials?

    Sir James: Most certainly.

    (He holds out his credentials for ye Comte to see.)

    Comte: Closer, I prithee. Closer. Hmmm, I see thou art no longer Naught Naught Seven.

    Sir James: ‘Tis so.

    Comte: That must hurt thee very badly.

    Sir James: We art not here to discuss me. Now-

    Comte: You think that thee will dissect my mind? A Jason Bourne fan once tried to test me- I ate his liver with some fava beans and a vodka martini.

    Sir James: Shaken, not stirred?

    Comte: But of course. Most upset am I, Sir James, for I am ye real victim here!

    Sir James: What? In what possible sense art thou ye real victim?

    Comte: This scene! Ye Play ist nearly three hours long and this is mine only scene!

    Sir James: That ist thine own fault, you fiend, for you stunk up ye last Play with your understated performance! "Inglorious Basterd" my arse, more like Insufferable Bore!

    Comte: But I did not wish to ham it up.

    Sir James: Bond villains art supposed to ham it up! Hast thou not seen Toby Stephens?

    Comte: Nay, that I could not bear. I see that thou art here with William Of Tanner. I trust he ist well, and ye Young Wizard too?

    Sir James: You know about that?

    Comte: Oh, was that supposed to be a secret?

    Sir James: Now, I wish to ask thee-

    Comte: Nothing will I tell thee, except that I continue to be ye author of thine pain. Thou hast ne’er worked out ye secret of Apothecary Swann, is this not so?

    Sir James: In time I shalt-

    Comte: (Mocking.) “In time”. Ha! When her secret doth find its way out, and it shalt, ‘twill be ye death of thee.

    (Sir James, enraged, throws himself upon ye Comte, his hands encircling his neck.)

    Sir James: Die, Blofeld, die!

    (Alarmed, William Of Tanner bursts in and drags Sir James away from ye Comte.)

    Tanner: James, what do ye think thou art doing?

    Sir James: Oh, ‘tis nothing. All ist fine.

    Tanner: What? I heard thee saying “Die, Blofeld, die!”

    Sir James: Nay, nay, I was speaking German. “The, Blofeld, the”, ‘twas all.

    Tanner: Then why ist he dead?

    (Sir James turns, horrified, to see ye Comte de Blofeld dead. His skin ist covered with boils and his hair hast turned blond.)

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 20

    ------------------------------------------

    ACT 3, SCENE 7

    ------------------------------------------

    Ye throne room of Sir Gareth Mallory. Unaided by strong drink, he ist berating Sir James Bond before Moneypenny, ye Young Wizard, William Of Tanner, and Nomi.


    M: Let me see if I have got this correct, Sir James- thou didst strangle ye Comte de Blofeld.

    Sir James: Aye, but-

    M: And thou wert yelling “Die, Blofeld, die” as thou wert doing so?

    Sir James: Well, I would not say “yelling”, but-

    M: And William Of Tanner here didst have to drag ye off in ye midst of this act?

    Sir James: ‘Tis true, but-

    M: And ye Comte did in fact die?

    Sir James: This didst happen, but-

    M: And all this, yet thou does deny killing ye Comte?

    Sir James: This is true.

    M: Oh well, that ist all right then.

    Sir James: (Relieved.) Ah, is it?

    M: (Rather loudly.) No of course it is bloody well not all right!!! Of all ye stupid, half-witted things to do ye had to go and do this?

    Young Wizard: Aye, but mine liege-

    M: Oh? Thou knowest better, Wizard?

    Young Wizard: In fact, sire, in this case I do. We examined ye Comte’s body, and he did not die from strangulation. His skin was covered in boils and his hair had turned blond. ‘Tis my opinion that in touching him, Sir James had transferred some nano-fleas, specially bred to kill ye Comte and only ye Comte.

    Moneypenny: Ye question ist, where did he get them from?

    Tanner: There ist only one answer.

    Sir James: Aye. Apothecary Madeleine Swann.

    M: So…. (He looks longingly towards his liquor cabinet.) Dost thou know where she can be found, Sir James?

    Sir James: Dammit Mallory, I keep telling you I hast been retired five years, this is NOT my job any more!

    M: What? Art thou sure? Well, why do I keep signing paperwork for a Naught Naught Seven? Hmm? Got you there!

    Nomi: Ahem. Over here in ye corner of ye set, sire. That ist me, I've been ye new Naught Naught Seven for five years now!

    M: What? Who ist that? Most certain I am that I hast never seen thee before in mine life! How did ye get in here? Naught Naught Seven, do you know anything about this?

    Sir James: Aye, we met in Jamaica. Most competent she seemed, so I assumed she was telling ye truth.

    Nomi: I am telling ye truth! I am the new Naught Naught Seven!

    M: Moneypenny?

    Moneypenny‘Tis absolutely true sire, we have been paying her for five years now. She collects dental benefits, we covered her massage therapy. She comes into ye office for eight hours every day, then goes home. She even took two weeks vacation, but nobody noticed because she never gets any dialogue even in ye office scenes.

    Nomi: See? I keep telling y-

    M: But how can this be? A brand new employee coming into work every day for five years and I did notice not? What the hell was I doing?

    Sir James: (Snickers.) Probably rearranging thine liquor cabinet!! (Makes glug glug glug pantomime gesture to fellow Players who all laugh at M's expense,)

    Nomi: Now hold on one damned minute here! I want some dialogue! We art halfway through this Play and I have barely got two lines so far! This self-referential rant is my first significant speech in ye entire Play!

    M: (Shuffles through papers on desk.) I can't find this part in the script...

    Sir James: No, she appears to be improvising sire, but ‘tis more inspired than ye confusing exposition we art supposed to be delivering in this scene, so let us see where she ist going with this...

    Nomi: (Steps to centre-stage, tears roll down cheek.) How did it come to this? All those Advertising Broadsides for two long years leading up to ye Play's debut stressed that I, Nomi, was to be ye All-New All-Different Naught Naught Seven! All those Interviews I did with Town Criers promoting ye upcoming Play, explaining my hip new 17th century attitude and motivation! Ye Audience was led to believe I was going to be an interesting, edgy new character and yet...

    Sir James: (Bumps Nomi off centre-stage.) An idea I have, sire! Mayhap I go back to my nice house in Jamaica, and ye All-New All-Different Naught Naught Seven can get ye chance to save ye world?

    M: I do not know about that...

    Bond: Most certainly, just give her some last minute training! In fact, someone was just telling me ye Colonial Intelligence Agency offers a really good three week crash course that teaches a rookie agent how to read without moving her lips, and kickbox in a slit skirt!

    Young Wizard: ...and mayhap she gets a lab scene with me, where I can show her some silly gadget and she says something witty and I say "Oh do pay attention Naught Naught Seven!"

    Nomi: Well, I am not sure I can do funny dialogue...

    Young Wizard: Neither could ye two fellows before Mr Grumpy over there, yet they managed to save ye world!

    M: Never mind all that, silence everybody! This Play hast already been dragging on for one and a half hours and we still have two major Acts to go, so there's no time for this character, whoever she ist, to get more dialogue, but!!! ...She can stand in ye background while ye real Naught Naught Seven saves ye world! Alright team, chop chop, let's get moving!

    All: Aye, sire.

    M: Right, now let us look at ye proper Script to see what our next lines are. Ah yes, confusing exposition indeed. Something something Nano-Fleas, something something Blofeld, something something Madeleine, something something Norway. Everybody got that?

    Sir James: Madeleine!!! Grrrr... I have got a tasty word or two to say about that one! (Clenches fist and seethes.)

    M: (Re-examines script and raises eyebrows.) Indeed you did! But that all got cut when Nomi started improvising. Phew! That ist some sailor's vocabulary, let us hope you never have to deliver dialogue in front of small children! Right, end of Third Act everybody. Places for Fourth!

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 18

    ---------------------------------

    ACT 4, SCENE 1

    --------------------------------

    Norway. Sir James drives his carriage down a coastal road. Spying a house, he draws up and goes to ye door. Ye sound of girls laughing and giggling ist heard from inside. A man answers, fastening his robe.

    Man: Aye?

    Young Lady’s Voice: (From inside.) Who is it, mine darling?

    2nd Young Lady’s Voice: (From inside.) Tell him to go away!

    Sir James: Thine pardon I crave, I seek Number 22 Frozen Lake Lane.

    Man: Ye next house- I am Number 24.

    Sir James: Ah, I see. I thank’ee.

    Number 24: No problem. Coming, girls….


    (Sir James goes back to his carriage and drives on. At ye next house, he tethers his horses and fetches their nosebags, giving them a swift shake but not a stir.)

    Sir James: Wait here, Sir George, Sir Pierce.

    (He goes to ye house and enters through ye open door to find Madeleine awaiting.)

    Apothecary Swann: Why hast ye come, Sir James?

    Sir James: Thou must tell me who gave ye the nano-fleas, Madeleine.

    Apothecary Swann: Ist ye Comte de Blofeld dead?

    Sir James: Aye, ‘tis so.

    Apothecary Swann: Good.

    Sir James: He didst tell me that you did not betray me.

    Apothecary Swann: Thou art not built to trust people.

    Sir James: I know not why thou didst try to kill ye Comte, or who gave thee ye means, but I do know that for what felt like five minutes of mine life I wanted everything with thee.

    Apothecary Swann: And not because I did not trust ye.

    (There ist a soft noise from ye stairs. Sir James looks up to find a young girl, perhaps four years old.)

    Apothecary Swann: This ist Mathilde.

    Sir James: (Alarmed.) Mata?

    Apothecary Swann: Nay, Mathilde.

    Sir James: Ahhh… Er…. I bid thee greetings. I am he who is called Bond, James Bond.

    Apothecary Swann: And she ist not thine.

    Sir James: (Doing some swift mental calculations, and noting the familiar blue eyes.) But of course….


    Sir James moves to centre stage and addresses ye audience:

    It's as if all my life has been shaken

    And stirred with a children-sized spoon

    It's as if all the values I cling to

    Have flown away, raking the moon


    From now on there's no "me", it's just "us"

    And I'd lay down my life for her love

    For this now I know, and for certain

    All the time in the world's not enough


    (Ye next morning, Mathilde enters ye bedroom, Dou Dou in hand, to find Madeleine and Sir James in bed together.)

    Mathilde: (Wide eyed.) J’ai faim.

    Sir James: Er…. Hungry! Aye, of course.

    (He gets out of bed and starts toward ye kitchen.)

    Sir James: Let us see what we can do about that.

    Mathilde: Merci.

    (She takes his hand as they walk. Sir James at first looks uncomfortable, then starts to smile as they enter ye kitchen.)

    Sir James: Now, let us see…. bacon?

    (Mathilde smiles as he opens a cupboard. Ye pantry shelves are filled with containers of Ludefisk and Pickled Herring.)

    Sir James: Ah… Perhaps not. Eggs! I know a very good recipe for scrambled eggs. I... er... read it in a book once.

    (He looks around in vain for eggs. Mathilde giggles and whispers to Dou Dou.)

    Sir James: Well, not eggs then. Bread?

    (He opens a cupboard.)

    Sir James: Ah…

    (Madeleine enters ye kitchen.)

    Apothecary Swann: Having a problem, Sir James?

    Sir James: No, I….

    Apothecary Swann: Give her an apple.

    James: An apple. Of course.

    (He produces a knife and begins to peel ye apple. Apothecary Swann sits at the dining table and motions Sir James to join her.)

    Apothecary Swann: The villain you seek is named Safin. Zhafin?

    Sir James: Sa-feen? Safe-in?

    Apothecary Swann:

    He ist a man of mystery. No one knows how to pronounce his name.

    His family wast murdered most horribly by mine father Squire White.

    at the behest of Herr Oberhauser who stole his family’s fiefdom

    and became Ye Comte de Blofeld. Safin desires back his birthright.

    Sir James: Syphon’s vengeance against Spectre ist just, but why endanger Creation?

    Apothecary Swann: He is a villain from a family of villains.

    Sir James: (To ye audience) Aye, tis motivation enough.

    Apothecary Swann: (Also toward ye audience.) It ist all we are getting.

    (Ye front door crashes open and three henchmen wielding swords rush in.)

    Apothecary Swann: Mathilde, hide!

    (The young girl hurries under ye spiral staircase that connects to a loft where her bed abides. Madeleine goes to ye cupboard. From a lower shelf she grabs a sword and tosses it to Sir James, who had been protecting himself from swinging swords by using a chair as a shield. Two henchmen fight Sir James, who more than holds his own. He slashes ye wrist of ye largest henchman who drops his sword, then runs through ye other who screams and expires on ye floor. Ye large henchman throws a chair at Sir James causing him to lose his sword.)

    Ye Large Henchman: I need but one hand and no blade to kill thee.

    (An epic fist fight ensues. Meanwhile ye third henchman approaches Apothecary Swann but then spies Mathilde. He lunges for ye girl only for Madeleine to throw a knife into his back. He collapses and dies by ye frightened child. Mathilde tries to run to her mother, only for Safin to enter ye house and grab Mathilde as she runs past ye front door. He has a flintlock in one hand.)

    Safin: Come, Madeleine.

    (While the pistol is not pointed at anyone, ye threat is unspoken but deafening. Safin leaves with Mathilde. Madeleine bows her head and follows.

    Sir James and ye remaining henchman continue their fistfight into ye cooking area until Sir James manages to get his arm around ye large henchman’s neck and force his face into a water basin. Sir James holds him down until his foe ist drowned. Sir James grabs his fallen sword and exits ye house at a run, only to re-enter moments later.)

    Sir James: They hast maimed Sir George and Sir Pierce. I cannot follow.

    (Logan of Ashe appears in ye doorway, sword in hand.)

    Logan: The horses shalt live.

    No need to give their all

    as glue, a violin bow

    or la viande de cheval.

    (Logan lunges forward. He briefly holds ye upper hand as Sir James falls backward over ye body of a henchman he hast slain. Sir James dodges ye downward swing of his adversary's sword. He quickly regains his feet.

    The pair circle one another, swords at ye ready. Sir James hurries up several stairs of ye spiral stair case. Logan swings his sword but hits nothing but wrought iron.)

    Logan: Wrought iron shalt not preserve thee. It ist not a protective cage.

    Sir James: A cage would be for thee, for

    Thou art mere vermin like the M.I.C.E. - Money? Ideology? Compromise? Ego?

    Thine reasons for betrayal undefined

    And in your aim imprecise.

    I still breathe and in my determination

    Will send you to a grave consigned.

    Logan: I need no more motivation than My Lord, So Fine.

    Sir James: Thou and your not-so-fine master Saffron shalt die for reasons multifarious. Ye death of my brother ist just ye first.

    Logan: Sir James, I had no idea you held such love for your brother, Ye Comte de Blofeld.

    Sir James: Nay, that swine was no brother of mine by either blood or nurture

    I speak of Lord Felix, a brother made by both his deeds and his nature.

    Logan: You shalt join your ‘brother’ from Virginia Colony anon.

    Sir James: Thou art ye son of a whore.

    Thy mousy voice is but a squeak, not a roar.

    (Logan of Ashe lunges at Sir James though ye balusters. Sir James sees his chance and grabs a crossbeam with his free hand. He leaps and kicks Logan in ye chest. Ye scoundrel drops his sword and stumbles backward while Sir James lands in a crouch. Sir James stands and with a backhand slams ye hilt of his sword into Logans forehead, who falls backward and crashes into ye cupboard. Ye containers therein shatter, raining ludefisk and pickled herring upon ye traitor.)

    Sir James: Thine smell now reflects thine character.

    (Before Logan can react, Sir James slashes his leg with his sword. Logan of Ashe falls onto ye floor. Sir James grabs the cupboard and pulls it down onto his foe, pinning him amongst ye herring and ludefisk.)

    Sir James: Where hast Sulphur taken Madeleine and her daughter?

    Logan: Her daughter? Art thou daft? If you wish to find them...ask your brother.

    (Logan spits in Sir James’s face. Sir James raises his sword with both hands and drives it down into his enemy’s chest. Logan of Ashe ist slain. Ye anger on Sir James’s face slowly changes to realization. Nomi enters ye house, sword at ye ready.)

    Sir James: Thou art late, New Naught Naught Seven.

    Nomi: With mine lack of dialogue I saw no reason for haste. Ye Young Wizard awaits on a Royal Navy ship at the shore to take us back to England.

    Sir James: Nay. We must go to Ye Comte de Blofeld’s castle to stop Sarafin and his nefarious plan. This mewling scoundrel revealed more in his defiance than he intended.

    Nomi: Ye Comte’s castle and lands are in Asia, off Japan. Ye journey will take many months.

    Sir James: Nay, ‘tis but a simple scene transition.

    Nomi: Come, mine carriage awaits.

    (Ye pair leave. Offstage, Nomi can still be heard improvising.)

    Nomi: Tally ho, Sir Barry! Allons-y Sir David!

    (Ye off stage harrumph of an irate Welshman echoes in ye distance.)

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 20

    --------------------------

    ACT 4, SCENE 2

    -------------------------

    A ship. Sir James and Nomi are paying attention, Naught Naught Seven, to ye Young Wizard as he pores over a map.


    Captain’s Voice: (Off stage.) Land ho! Island ahead!

    Sir James: See, Nomi, I told thee it would not take long to reach Zacefron’s base.

    Nomi: It ist SAFIN! How many times do I need to-

    Young Wizard: Thine attention I crave, Naught Naught Seven… both of thee. Ye base is a maze inside a castle, and most easy it would be to get lost inside. I have therefore crafted for thee an enchanted bracelet which will keep ye in constant touch with mine crystal ball here and I shalt guide ye through ye castle.

    Sir James: Where ist this enchanted bracelet, Young Wizard?

    Young Wizard: Here!

    (Ye Wizard opens a drawer to reveal a 24-piece tea service. Quickly he closes ye drawer and opens another to reveal ye bracelet.)

    Young Wizard: Here it is!

    (Nomi and Sir James both reach for it together, with Sir James taking possession first.)

    Nomi: But-

    Sir James: Sorry. You’re just too late.

    Young Wizard: Now, thou art going to need transport to get there. Follow me.

    (They go on deck.)

    Captain: I shalt keep ye ship anchored here, Young Wizard.

    Young Wizard: I thank'ee, Captain.

    Captain: Pray, pass mine greetings to William Of Tanner... when thou does see him.

    Young Wizard: (Shocked.) Thou dost know about that?

    Captain: (Walking away.) I thought everybody knew about that.

    Young Wizard: Ahem. Now, here we have a most stealthy vessel, thou might call it a “stealth boat”. Take it to ye landing bay of ye castle, then speak with me through ye enchanted bracelet.

    Sir James: But of course.

    (A carrier pigeon flutters overhead, landing on Nomi’s shoulder.)

    Nomi: Ah, this will be ye reply to a missive I sent to Sir Gareth.

    (She takes ye message from ye pigeon’s leg.)

    Sir James: What does it say?

    Nomi: Sir Gareth has replied to my request that thee, Sir James, shalt once more be Naught Naught Seven.

    Sir James: (Visibly swelling with pride.) I shalt once more be Naught Naught Seven?

    Nomi: Aye, ‘tis so.

    Sir James: Then, Nomi, I have but one thing to say to thee.

    Nomi: And what ist that, Sir Ja… I mean, Naught Naught Seven?

    Sir James: Thine pigeon hast left a message of a different kind on thine shoulder. You might want to clean it before we we get into ye boat.


    ---------------------------

    ACT 4, SCENE 3

    -------------------------

    (Having landed onshore, Sir James and Nomi make their way toward Safin’s castle.)

    Sir James: (Via ye enchanted bracelet.) Art we heading in ye right direction, Young Wizard?

    Young Wizard: (Via ye enchanted bracelet.) Aye, keep going in ye direction ye art heading.

    Nomi: Look there, Sir James.

    Nomi: We must be careful.

    Sir James: Dangerous plants? Ha! This I shalt have to see to believe.

    Nomi: No problem- look closer.

    Sir James: Ah.

    Nomi: Nevertheless, we must continue in this way to reach ye castle.

    Sir James: Hmmm, I suppose thou art right.

    Nomi: Careful, watch thine feet!

    Sir James: A cesspool. Most surely foul things art being hatched here.

    (They draw closer, and spy some figures working in ye garden. One looks familiar….)

    Sir James: Ye Annoying Little Alchemist! I didst think we might be encountering him again.

    Nomi: And now ist ye time to seize him again!

    (Sir James and Nomi lay seige to ye guards and other alchemists. Some they kill outright by ye just severity of their attack, some fall into ye cesspits and die a most foul death. Soon, ye Annoying Little Alchemist ist in their power once more, as he was in Cuba.)

    Sir James: We bid thee greetings. I am sure ye situation ist perfectly clear to thee. (He displays his sword.)

    Annoying Little Alchemist: (Giggling nervously.) Oh yes, perfectly clear.

    Nomi: Thou willst tell us what ist being made in this… garden of death,

    Annoying Little Alchemist: Mine master prefers ye term “poison garden”.

    Sir James: He canst call it a bag of bees for all that I care. What is going on?

    Annoying Little Alchemist: Why, ‘tis perfectly obvious. Here we art breeding ye nanofleas, which can be directed at any individual or family or race that I design.

    Sir James: (Via ye enchanted bracelet.) Hast thou heard, Young Wizard?

    Young Wizard: (Via ye enchanted bracelet.) Most certainly. Sir Gareth hast provided warships ready to take aim and destroy yon island when ye word ist given.

    Sir James: Ye word ist not given yet- I must go inside yon castle first and rescue mine… family. Nomi, take charge of this piece of scum. (Sir James exits.)

    Nomi: With great pleasure.

    Annoying Little Alchemist: “Piece of scum”- ha!

    Nomi: I could think of worse things to call ye.

    Annoying Little Alchemist: Thou art only jealous because I have more lines in this play than you do.

    Nomi: Oh? That problem ist easily dealt with.

    (She pushes him into the nearest cesspool, in which he dies smellily and noisily. A little distance away, Sir James hears ye noise.)

    Sir James: Hmm, that sounds like ye noise we heard in Cuba. However, no time to pry- ahead lies ye door of ye castle. Wait… a sound from inside? That doth sound like…. Singing.

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 20

    ------------------------

    ACT 4, SCENE 4

    ------------------------

    (Safin is seated on a throne in his chamber, minions lined up behind him. On the wall is a vast stylised Q logo, adorned with two lions, a crab, some sort of bird and two faeries. Ye “Q” of course stands for “Quantum”- you were thinking of something else?)

    (In front, in chains are Madeleine and Mathilde.)

    Madeleine: Let us go!

    Safin: Bismallah, no, I will not let you go! (Waves black fingernail at Madeleine.)

    Mathilde: Wet uth go!

    Safin: Bismallah, no, I will not let you go! (Bends slightly and waves black fingernail at Mathilde.)

    Madeleine and Mathilde: Let us go!

    Safin: I will not let you go! Never!

    Minion 1: (Leans in from left.) Never!

    Minion 2: (Leans in from right.) Never!

    Safin: Never, ever, ever let you go!

    Mathilde: (Looks to Madeleine.) Mama mia!

    Madeleine: (Looks to Mathilde.) Mama mia!

    Madeleine and Mathilde: (Both look to Safin.) Mama mia! Let us go!

    Pierce Brosnan: (Poking his head out from behind curtain, stage left.) Mamma Mia? Oh, is this my cue?

    All Players: (In unison:) No! No! No! No! Nooo!!!!

    (A variety of stray objects are thrown in Brosnan's direction, including at least one glass vessel full of Evil Nano-Fleas. Brosnan beats a hasty retreat never to return in this play…. Maybe.)

    Safin: Er, whoops I lost my place! How embarrassing my darlings, now where was I? Oh yes, ahem- (Raises hand full of black fingernails dramatically.) for Beezelbub has a devil set aside for me!

    Minion 1: (Leans in from left.) And me!

    Minion 2: (Leans in from right.) And me!

    Safin and all minions in unison: (Safin rises from throne and waves a hand full of black fingernails high above his head as he projects ye high note to the back row) For meee!!!!

    (Enter from stage right a Starwatcher with long curly hair carrying a lute (Indeed a most beautiful red lute that was made at home by he and his father when he was a boy.)

    He takes position one step behind Safin and to his left, our right. Minions discreetly assemble ye olde effectes peddles before him. Safin dramatically lowers his arm and takes one step back, ye Starwatcher steps forward to centre stage wielding his lute, and all other Players fall silent and step back into the darkness. Ye Starwatcher begins strumming, and continues, and continues some more, it is an epic noodly killer lute solo. Ye lute fanatics in Ye Rowdy Audience are all amazed and begin to debate what they are hearing...)

    1st Fanatic: Is he as good as Zoso of Page?

    2nd Fanatic: Well Zoso's an Occultist of course, that's very square in this new era. Whereas ye Starwatcher observes ye movement of ye objects in ye heavens and derives a theory of ye universe from first principals, like that fellow ye Pope just had put to death. Therefore ye Starwatcher is a Heretic, much more radical than a boring old Occultist .

    1st Fanatic: Yeah, my parents are into ye Occult, so pre-Renaissance, all ye cool kids are into Heresy.

    3rd Fanatic: Yeah, Heresy rules!

    2nd Fanatic: But what of Gilmour of Cambridge?

    3rd Fanatic: Oh you mean Floyde who art Pink? Aw, you've got to be on rye ergot to listen to the weird noises he makes on his pedal steel lute!

    1st Fanatic: Speaking of which, this is some awesome mouldy bread, is it not?

    2nd Fanatic: Oh, wowww, I'm totally seeing Bosch-like visions superimposed on top of tonight's performance!

    3rd Fanatic: Oh wait, ye killer lute solo is coming to an end, I think there's finally going to be some more dialogue in this Play.

    (But ye lute fanatics art wrong, at least at first. Sir James comes up the stairs, armed, to face Safin. Looking around, he sees that there are several other armed men staring back at him. Slowly, he continues up ye stairs. As he reaches ye top, he sees Safin with young Mathilde.)

    Safin: Hail and well met. I prithee, lay thine weapon on ye floor.

    (Sir James lays his sword on ye floor.)

    Safin: Pray, your sidearm as well. Take ye utmost of care... a flick of the wrist and she's dead.

    (Sir James pauses. Safin throws a pillow in the air.)

    Safin: Watch her spread her wings and fly away!

    (Ye henchmen shoot ye pillow.)

    Sir James: Alas, I shall do it!

    (Sir James drops his flintlock.)

    Safin: Please, take pleasure and sit with me.

    (Sir James sits.)

    Sir James: (To Mathilde.) Faith, dear child. Be assured that all shall be correct.

    Safin: Sir James Bond...a violent history most intense, an ability to kill with impunity, a most profound grievance with ye Comte de Blofeld, enraptured by the beauty of Madeleine Swann. 'Tis true, I see myself in you. We are both killer queens, you and I.

    Sir James: Different choices have taken us down different paths.

    Safin: On the contrary, only our methods are different. You say black, I say white... you say dog, I say bite... Jaws was never my scene and I don't like Star Wars. When you die, your abilities shall pass as well... mine shall persist beyond my life. And life? Faith, my dear Sir James... life is all about your legacy. True?

    (He pauses.)

    Safin: This can be beautiful, not ugly. We can leave each other alone, you and I. Perchance, do you agree?

    Sir James: There is much truth in what thou sayest.

    Safin: You have my thanks.

    Sir James: Truly, we are much alike. We have both lost all before being given the chance to keep anything. 'Tis a shame that we never had a chance, is it not? Just one chance... we all deserve that much.

    (He pauses again.)

    Sir James: But, you are building something that can truly destroy everything without any else getting that well deserved chance, no?

    Safin: Faith, you are correct. However, nobody cares to realize that they do not want that chance...they are all simply waiting for the hammer to fall. We lie to ourselves and to others about what we want and what we dream, but this is all ephemeral. Everyone is under pressure and nobody wants to make decisions. Nobody wants to tear it up. We want to be instructed how best to live our lives and then pass quietly one day. Who wants to live forever?

    (Again he pauses.)

    Safin: So...now I'm here. I'm truly a prince of the universe, Sir James. I'm quietly guiding them to oblivion.

    Sir James: Those who play at God are not treated well by historians-

    Thy villainous deeds dost not a great villain make.

    Thou seeks to wear a God’s coronet,

    But with thine lack of character and motivation

    Thou art but a villain-ette.

    Safin: But you? You will be treated well? Come now, you are death on two legs, Mr. Bond. We both do away with others to improve the world, do we not? We want a clean world, do we not?The world must grow and not stagnate. You are against this goal, true? You would defy me at every chance. I want to break free and you would deny me. However... and please don't take offence at my innuendo... I have made you obsolete.

    Sir James: Nay, I must be against that point of view. With people like you in the world... those who want it all and want it now... you are merely joining a large contingent of short men with large dreams.

    Safin: Nay, I am truly passionate about life! About that crazy little thing called love! Anon, you must undo what you have done up until now, Sir James. You must render your explosives impotent and depart my island forthwith. Do that and you may take this beautiful angel with you and keep yourselves alive.

    Sir James: Pray, and Madeleine? May she also be free of this place?

    Safin: Alas, she must remain here until you are long away from here.

    Sir James: That is not acceptable.

    Safin: ‘Tis an unfortunate thing. Thou has dashed ye dreams of young Mathilde. She understands that departing from here is her chance to survive and thrive. Yay, perchance to dream and find somebody to love.

    Sir James: Speak not, let her truthfully tell me ye same.

    Safin: Sir James... what would a mother undertake to ensure ye safety and well-being of her offspring?

    Sir James: But soft! Is that what happened to your mother? Did you tie your mother down?

    Safin: My mother? Truly, she laid at my feet and passed out of this world as I watched.

    (He grows angry.)

    Safin: So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye? You're just an overgrown schoolboy! Let me tan your hide!

    (Safin takes Mathilde up in his arms, angrily.)

    Sir James: Anon, hold fast! You have won...you are the champion, the champion of the world. I shall abide by your wishes.

    Safin: Indeed you shall.

    Sir James: I tender my most sincere apologies.

    (Sir James bows on ye floor.)

    Safin: We all have choices, Sir James. Some difficult, some hard. You say Rolls, I say Royce... you say God, give me a choice... I don't want to be ye President of America. Dost thou wish to perish before your daughter's eyes? Dost thou wish for her to perish before thine eyes?

    Sir James: Nay! Nay nay nay, I say thee nay! Please, accept my apologies.

    Safin: Mathilde, sweet child. Behold your father. Witness power, dear girl.

    Sir James: Truly and sincerely, I am most sorry.

    (Sir James pulls a hidden flintlock from his belt, stands up, and blasts ye closest henchman. Ye others run in fear as he quickly reloads.)

    Safin: Now I'm here...

    (Safin and Mathilde disappear quickly via ye platform which quickly disappears below.)

    Safin: (Disappearing.) Now I'm there...

    (Sir James looks around… Safin and Mathilde are gone. Madeleine runs to him.)

    Madeleine: James! Pray, my daughter... do you know where she has gone?

    (Sir James lowers his flintlock, fear and anger crossing his face.)

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 21

    ------------------------------

    ACT 4, SCENE 5

    ------------------------------

    (Sir James and Madeleine are wandering ye evil headquarters freely, down corridors right past all ye henchmen.]

    1st Henchman: Lo, I do believe those art ye heroes of this Play. Out here they should not be, I say.

    2nd Henchman: Someone should tell our leader.

    1st Henchman: Ha! ‘Tis more than I am paid for, someone else should do this!

    2ns Henchman: Ye leader should tell ye leader! Most surely ‘tis a leader’s job!

    1st Henchman: Aye! Now, do any doughnuts remain in our waiting chamber?


    Madeleine: This I should have known- ye first time thou hast been given responsibility for our, er, I mean my child thou hast gone and lost her!

    Sir James: Nay, ‘tis not so. ‘Twas yon evil villain, with whom thou do seem suspiciously close. And this brings to mind that thou did have some sort of secret!

    Madeleine: Again with ye secret! What secret?!!? Thou hast already seen ye big secret!

    Sir James: Aha! Thou dost admit thou hast a secret!!!

    Madeleine: Secret secret bloody secrets! That ist all you ever talk about!

    (They round a corner and approach ye cesspools. Rats and fleas crawl everywhere, while henchmen clad in Plague Doctors masks stir ye green bubbling swill. Nomi appears.)

    Nomi: Aha, I surely knew you two wouldst get along! Greetings, Apothecary Swann! But where ist…. oh.

    (Bond and Madeleine begin squabbling again.)

    Nomi; Hohoho, this ist too much! Ye great swinging agent of discretion saddled with ball and chain! I cannot believe I gave thee back thine number, typical urban father! Bo-ringgg!

    ____________________


    (Safin is once again stooping and waving his black fingernail at Mathilde.)

    Safin: Now see here little girl you, I'll Cruella DeVille you... and buzz-kill you, I'm not very nice!

    (His black fingernail ist getting awfully close to Mathilde's nose.

    Mathilde winks at ye audience and...

    Mathilde leaps up and chomps her baby teeth deep into Safin's finger!)

    Safin: Ye-owtch! ! Waahhhh!! Hah-hah-hah-hah-Hahhhh!!!

    (Safin leaps straight up, then hops around in a circle, waving his arm in full repeated arcs back and forth over his shoulder, with ye toddler not losing grip.)

    Safin: You suck my blood like a leech! You break my skin and you breach! You've sunk your teeth and it hurts! 

    (Ye henchmen scramble chaotically.)

    1st Henchman: What in hell ist going on?

    2nd Henchman: Mine liege, tell us what to do!

    3rd Henchman: We art only henchmen, and occasional backing vocalists, nobody trained us what to do!

    (As Safin waves his arm in ye direction of ye exit, Mathilde chooses her moment to release her grip and flies backwards, hitting ye ground on a backwards roll then performing two backwards somersaults before landing on her tiny toddler toes, with tiny toddler fingers poised for balance, a step before ye door frame.

    Safin is clutching his arm, blood spurting from his finger like a geyser.)

    Safin: Each moment this goes on I die a little! I just can't get no relief! Somebody!

    1st Henchman: (Leans in from left.) Somebody!

    Safin: Ooh, somebody !!

    2nd Henchman: (Leans in from right.) Somebody!

    Safin: Can anybody find me ... a frikkin' band-aid right now?!!?

    (Mathilde's eyes quickly move left and right. Ye henchmen art busy running in circles bumping into walls and each other.)

    1st Henchman: Duh, which way did she go?

    2nd Henchman: Which way did she go?

    Safin: ...You've broken my heart, and now you leave me.

    (Mathilde tiptoes out ye doorway and begins to wander ye evil headquarters unsupervised but DouDou has been left behind...)

    Safin: You will remember, when this is blown over, and everything's all by the way... When I grow older, I will be there at your side to remind you how I still love you - I still love yooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu…..


    (Mathilde passes ye balcony, then tiptoes down long shadowy corridors seven teeny steps at a time, pausing at each eighth step, glancing quickly left and right. By following this ancient secret toddler ninja move, she evades all notice from Safin’s minions.

    She passes a torture chamber and begins to hum "DouDou, doodly DouDou".

    Mathilde passes another room containing a periodically recurring time-controlled geyser disguised with an outhouse seat, a torture device not used in this adventure.

    She hums "dadoo, dadoo, da doodoo; dadoo doo, da DouDou!" then notes her newly discovered melody, pauses and has a look in eye, like that time Sir James tried on the suit and looked in the mirror before gambling at the Royal Gambling Tavern.

    Mathilde comes to ye cesspools, pauses and sweeps her eyes across ye landscape, noting ye positions of each henchman and calculating further advance, when she spots...)

    Mathilde: Mommy! Mommy's fwend! Mommy's fwend's fwend!

    Madeleine: (Sweeps Mathilde up in her arms.) Darling, there you are! What a clever little girl you are to find Mommy and Da… ah… Sir James all by yourself! (Slaps Sir James.) Unlike some people I could mention!

    Nomi: I do hate to interrupt thee, but we shouldst not wait here! Let us get to ye boat before ye henchmen notice or mayhap the villain's headquarters explodes!


    (Ye henchmen are not noticing very much...)

    3rd Henchman: I like the ones with ye sprinkles!

    1st Henchman: How bout ye ones with ye jelly filling?

    2nd Henchman: Does anybody like ye cruller? Nay, didn't think so, I'll just throw it in a cesspool shall I?

    ____________________


    Nomi: Ah, here ist ye boat!

    Sir James: (Via enchanted bracelet.) We art ready to set sail, Young Wizard. Ye word ist given.

    Young Wizard: (Via enchanted bracelet.) Aye, I shalt tell Sir Gareth his warships may fire when ready.

    (Nomi gets in ye boat first, Madeleine carefully follows, then once safely in holds her arms out for Mathilde.)

    Mathilde: Nay, Mother!! I can do this all by myself! Evwybody watch!

    (Taking a running jump, Mathilde leaps off ye dock high above ye boat, then pauses motionless, suspended in midair in a kungfu type pose, while ye camera rotates bullet time style.)

    Madeleine: Good girl, my love!

    Nomi: Yes, that was very good indeed!

    (Mathilde raises one eyebrow ironically, fixing her cuffs.)

    Sir James: (Seeing this with a smile.) Not mine, eh?

    (Madeleine shoots him a look.)

    Sir James: (Still on ye dock, wipes a tear with pride.) That girl ist going to make a fine secret agent some day...

    (Sir James feels so good about his days work, he begins to hum his own theme song as he takes his first step off dock onto ye boat.)

    Sir James: Dadoo, dadoo, da doodoo...

    (Mathilde looks up from ye boat, recognising ye melody.)

    Sir James: Dadoo doo, da DouDou!

    Mathilde: Dou Dou ! Dou Dou ! Whew's Dou Dou ? I want my Dou Dou!

    Sir James: (Almost in ye boat.) There there, my love, we'll get you another Dou Dou when we get ashore.

    Mathilde: (Begins to wail.) Noooo! I don't want anuffer DouDou ! I want my Dou Dou ! Whews my DouDou bwahhh! Bwahhh!! Bwahhh!!!

    Madeleine: Oh James, be a dear and go back and look for her Dou Dou! I'll never get her to take a nap when she's like this!

    Sir James: But, er, that is to say, uh, poopsikins dearest, ye castle ist about to explode and...

    Madeleine: Bond James Bond! If you don't march right back in ye castle right now and look for our daughter's, er, I mean, my daughter's Dou Dou I shall never speak to you again!

    Sir James: (Slapping his hand over his brow then climbing back onto ye dock.) Oh all right, grumble grumble, I guess I have no other choice but to attempt reentry!

    (Sir James re-enters ye castle as Nomi unties ye boat, and Nomi, Madeleine and Mathilde safely escape.)


    (As ye small boat drifts across ye sea, Mathilde watches backwards over ye stern. Nomi moves in close to Madeleine.)

    Nomi: We shalt make for ye ship where ye Young Wizard awaits.

    Madeleine: Ye Young Wizard? Hast he brought William Of Tanner with him?

    Nomi: How dost thou know about that?

    Madeleine: Everybody knows about that.

    Nomi: So, you do know what goes on, on these boats, don't you?

    Madeleine: (Considers what a deadbeat loser Sir James is.) I'm listening...

    Mathilde: (Watching ye castle grow smaller on ye horizon.) Wow, I wondew what sowt of thwiwwing adwentures Mommy's fwend will have as he twies to wescue DouDou?


    (Off shore facing ye castle, a fleet of English Naval vessels begin to assemble.

    On each ship's deck are several large catapults which somehow do not get in the way of the sails and rigging. Sailors load ye catapults with explosive ammunition.)

    ____________________

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 20

    --------------------

    ACT 4, SCENE 6

    --------------------

    (Inside ye castle…)


    Sir James: My sanity is at an end! Is there no logic to the layout of this place? Was this designed by a madman???

    Pradeep: (From behind a corner.) Perhaps, 'tis true!

    Sir James: Who art thou? Reveal thyself and speak this instant to give me satisfaction!

    Pradeep: Pray, calm thyself. I am but a simple salesman, a contractor most capable and available to those who are in grave need of facilities to match their designs upon this world.

    Sir James: A salesman??? Surely you can't be serious!

    Pradeep: I am most serious, good sir, and...

    Sir James: Who requested such a place?

    Pradeep: Good sir, as you no doubt suspect, it is indeed Mr. Safin. He provided his needs and desires with great clarity, and our company gladly built this place to his specifications... for a modest fee of course.

    Sir James: Indeed. Hast thou a card for business?

    Pradeep: I hast one right here. Take one. Indeed, take several, and pass them around to your friends and family with my appreciation.

    Sir James: Of that, you may be assured.

    Pradeep: You have my thanks. Thou can save a card by giving only one between William Of Tanner and ye Young Wizard. Oh, and one last thing...

    Sir James: Yes?

    Pradeep: Don't call me Shirley.

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff

    ------------------------

    ACT 4, SCENE 7

    ----------------------

    (As Sir James races through ye castle, he comes across a pool in which lies….)


    Sir James: At last- Dou Dou!

    (He reaches to grab ye toy but suddenly someone's foot lands on his hand.)

    Sir James: Argh!

    Safin: Hahahh! Bond James Bond, at last we meet again for the second time!

    (Sir James is stabbed by Safin and falls into ye water, dropping his flintlock. Safin emerges from his hiding space and stabs Sir James again and again. Sir James, stabbed multiple times now, collapses into ye pool. Grunting from ye pain and exertion, Sir James rises.)

    Sir James: (Looks down to see blood on tunic.) Hey! Thou canst not do that, for I am the hero of this play!

    Safin: Oh?

    Sir James: Ha! You see, I win, as I always do in the final act of these adventures! Er... (Blood ist gushing out from Sir James.) ‘Tis only a scratch.

    Safin: Misguided old mule with your pigheaded rules... with your narrow-minded cronies who are fools of the first division! You have made a wreckage of my plans.

    (Sir James rises again and attacks Safin, surprising him. They fight. Sir James manages to overpower Safin and get him into a vulnerable position in ye pool, holding his arm at a painful angle. Safin, with his free hand, reaches up and scratches Sir James' face with the vessel containing ye nano-fleas. The vessel breaks.

    Sir James, enraged, breaks Safin's arm. Safin drops the sword. Both men howl in pain.)

    Safin: You're insane, should be put inside...you're a sewer rat decaying in a cesspool of pride! You should be made unemployed then make yourself null and void!

    (He pauses.)

    Safin: Alas, we are both now poisoned...poisoned! Fool! Always jumpin' never happy where you land! Fool! Got my business make your living where you can! Hurry down the highway, hurry down the road... hurry past the people staring! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!

    (He pauses, again.)

    Safin: Bad mistakes, I've made a few. I've had my share of sand kicked in my face but I've come through. We are now both tragic heroes, Sir James.

    (Again, he pauses.)

    Safin: We are now a walking death, Sir James. Our touch is lethal. A touch of their skin, a brush of their lips... they would die, surely.

    Sir James: Pray, do not call me Shirley. Explain your intent, foul fiend!

    Safin: Fair Madeleine... precious Mathilde...

    (Safin shows ye shattered vessel. Sir James, realization hitting, touches his face and begins to understand.)

    Safin: ‘Tis of your own doing, Sir James. The fault is yours. A dog with disease, you're the king of the sleaze!

    (Sir James, dejected, stands up slowly. He leans over and picks up ye dropped flintlock. Reloading quickly between shots, he puts 3 shots into Safin and walks away, picking up Dou Dou. Irritated by ye flea, he takes off his doublet and throws it aside.

    A man cautiously puts his face round a curtain to ye left.)

    Man: Er, excuse me?

    Sir James: (Weary.) Yes?

    Man: Is that Safin dead? I mean, really dead?

    Sir James: I sincerely hope so!

    Man: Wonderful! Now I am free!

    Sir James: Free? What dost thou mean?

    Man: Well- I'm Marc Martel. I'm the one who really did the singing, he only lip-synched.

    Sir James: What? This cannot be!

    Marc: Oh yes. He's been keeping me here behind this curtain, while everybody thinks it's him doing the singing.

    (Sir James looks over his shoulder.)

    Marc: What are you looking for?

    Sir James: I just wondered if mayhap I was with a tin man, a scarecrow, and a cowardly lion.

    Marc: Huh?

    Sir James: Never mind. Surprised am I, but now thou art free.

    Marc: For many years, I have wanted to break free. To break free from his lies, he's so-

    Sir James: Yes, yes, we have all got the idea. Now, run!

    Marc: Even better- I have my bicycle. I want to ride my -

    Sir James: Enough! Go!

    (Marc leaves from ye left. Pierce Brosnan's head appears around the curtain on ye right.)

    Pierce: Er, did I hear that correctly? I wonder if-

    Sir James: I must get out of here!

    (He exits onto a balcony. There, he holds Dou Dou in ye classic Hamlet position.)

    Sir James: Ahem-

    DouDou, or not DouDou, that is the question:

    Whether 'tis nobler on the screen to suffer

    The slings and arrows of a Type 45 Destroyer,

    Or take up arms against Safin in the Sea of Japan

    And by opposing, be ended. DouDou - to sleep.

    (He sees ye approaching fire from ye warships, tucks Dou Dou into his waistband and stands to face them.)

    Sir James:

    At last death comes, in gentle irony

    When now I have a… family

    As darkness looms and life is done

    I know I didn’t stand alone


    I won’t regret the lips I’ve kissed

    Rather, those I had to miss

    The friends I made, the places seen

    The Queen’s man I have always been


    I fought below the ocean blue

    In Egypt, Russia, Jamaica too

    I saved more damsels than one can know

    On boats, on horseback, and on a cello

    (Off- stage, an irate Welshman says "Harrumph")


    Villains foul, both thin and fat

    With daggers, knives, and a white cat

    I faced them all, did never run

    From bowler hat or golden gun


    At least I know I’ll meet anew

    My mother Monique, my father Andrew

    For those who grieve, let this suffice

    As a wise man once said, you only live-

    (There ist a sudden explosion and Sir James disappears from view.

    It is impossible to tell if he has been blown into ye sea or into little pieces or into Barbara Broccoli's dreams.)


  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited February 22

    ------------------------

    ACT 5, SCENE 1

    -----------------------

    2 weeks later, Sir Gareth's office.

    Sir Gareth: (56 bottles of booze later.) Thang you all very mush for (hic!) atte... at... coming here.

    (Moneypenny, ye Young Wizard, William Of Tanner, and Nomi nod carefully, watching to make sure Sir Gareth doesn't stagger into any of ye furniture.... again.)

    Sir Gareth: We have gathered here today to remember.... remember.... (Attempts a whisper, fails drastically.) Moneypenny, what wash I to remember?

    Maid Moneypenny: Sir James Bond, sire.

    Sir Gareth: Oh, ish that who it ish? (Hic!) I have not sheen him for a while.

    Tanner: (Aside, to Young Wizard.) I would be surprised if he hast seen anything for a while.

    Sir Gareth: I heard that! Be quiet! Now.… (Aside.) With Sir James being dead a patsy he can be so that my position and power mayest remain!

    (Ye MI6 staff turn and look at each other.)

    Sir Gareth: Right, has everyone got a drink? Well, there art some words I would like to say on behalf of Sir James.

    There are places I never saw, which fact I regret

    There are people I never knew, who I wish I had met

    Adventures I never had, dangers which I have ducked

    But most of all, there are women I never-

    Maid Moneypenny: (Hurriedly.) Wait, didn't we do this one already? Back when I shot him two plays ago maybe?

    Sir Gareth: With the number of times this fellow's been thought dead, retired, or gone rogue, who can remember any more?

    Right that ist done, back to work everybody, now for the interviews! 

    NomiWait- art thou not going to assign me his name too, as well as his number? All those rude people shouting at me whenever I go out in public already think I'm the new James Bond, thou might as well!

    Sir GarethWho art thee again? If only you'd got some dialogue in this play maybe I could consider thee, but all these applicants here have most impressive resumes, like they have been auditioning for years.

    (Sir Gareth opens the door to the outer office revealing ye applicants who art nervously checking their resumes.)

    Nomi: As I am not needed I must go and meet with Apothecary Swann. (Off Maid Moneypenny's inquisitive look.) Since our time in yon lifeboat I hast been...uh... helping her with her grief.

    Sir Gareth: Now who ist the firsht...the fir...who art they again?

    Tanner: Mayhap we should delay interviews until thou art sober (Sir Gareth glares at Tanner.)...er, I mean we hast observed a respectful mourning period.

    Sir Gareth: (Hic!) Aye. Perhapst it ist best.

    (Sir Gareth closes the office door and the curtain falls on Sir Gareth and his colleagues.)

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff

    Epilogue:

    (Apothecary Swann walks onto the stage carrying Mathilde in her arms.)

    Apothecary Swann: Remember at the curtain call

    That stories need not end,

    Whatever tragic fate befell

    Our valiant and courageous friend.


    Our sadness shall quell

    As we relive his life

    Awed by stories of heroic deeds

    Overcoming villains and strife.


    Not only in past glories must we revel.

    For there are lucrative opportunities in

    Sequels, Prequels,

    Spin-offs, Reboots and Re-quels.


    A time will come to recommence

    When our coffers are bare of what we hold most fond.

    Thus in another four to six years hence

    We will again tell the tale of he who ist named

    Bond, Sir James Bond.


    (Apothecary Swann and Mathilde exeunt stage right, Mathilde giving ye audience a smile and a wave.)

    ====================================

    CODA:

    The audience applauds ye Royal premiere production of Nay Time to Die as ye cast give their bows. However, some stand silently, stunned at ye preceding playe.

    Heated discussions commence both among ye Commoners at ground level and among ye Nobility in the levels above.

    On the ground of ye Globe Theatre two rowdy Liverpudlians can’t believe ye ending.

    Liverpudlian #1: Woah, that was one messed up Playe. It made no sense, I actually thought I saw Sir James die at ye end! But of course that never happens in any of these Playes, does it?

    Liverpudlian #2: Y'know, that’s what I thought happened too! That can’t be right, must be us who got too messed up. I tell you one thing, I am never eating mouldy bread before one of these Playes again!

    Liverpudlian #1: Mouldy bread makes ye action better. I could have sworn I was in Italy.

    Nearby are a husband and wife.

    Husband: Two dozen adventures led to this? I should throw my last bunch of rotting cabbage at ye stage.

    Wife: Well, I thought it was a great love story. Sir James sacrifices himself for his Lady Love and their Daughter. Even ye Young Wizard found love with Tanner. However, I was shocked to find out Tanner was a woman.

    Husband: Tanner wasn’t a woman.

    Wife: That’s just the beard throwing you off. When men play all ye female parts you’re going to get some that aren’t very convincing. Having a woman as Sir Garth’s Right Hand was a brave choice by the Author.

    Husband: (Sigh.) His name is Sir Gareth.

    Above the fray a trio of noblemen in their box have their own discussion.

    Nobleman #1: I thought it was fantastic.

    Nobleman #2: Poppycock. Ye ending ruined it for me. I expected a lighthearted romp for ye whole family. Nay Time to Die? He bloody well did die. This was The Tragic End of Sir James Bond. We didn’t get that in the title or the handbills.

    Nobleman #2 hands over a handbill.

    Nobleman #1: Fair point. However, thematically….

    Nobleman #3 (Who looks suspiciously like ye ‘deceased’ Christopher Marlowe.): Thematically my arse. That damned Stratfordian made up so many new words and odd allusions it will take over four hundred years to sort it all out. I could have done bet-- (He suddenly stops himself as if he has revealed too much.) --er, I loved the character of Paloma.

    Nobleman #1: Oh yes, I too loved her.

    Nobleman #2: Of that we can all agree. I also have the desire to purchase a corduroy doublet for my upcoming travel to ye Continent.

    Nobleman #1: As much as I loved ye Playe, I felt the costumes were questionable.

    Nobleman #3: I hear ye ‘Bard of Avon’ is just an actor hired by Squires Purvis and Wade.

    (Ye other noblemen stare at the one who looks suspiciously like the ‘deceased’ Christopher Marlowe for several seconds before resuming their conversation.)

    Nobleman #1: So we can all agree to have differing opinions?

    Nobleman #2: Absolutely not. Only one can proclaim the success or failure of Nay Time to Die.

    (The noblemen, along with ye entire audience, turn toward ye Royal Booth.

    Queen Elizabeth stands and clears her throat.)

    Queen Elizabeth: We desire a Dou Dou. (An advisor whispers in her ear.) What? Of course. This production was quite satisfactory, although one must admit they haven’t been the same since they killed Dame Miles.


    SIR JAMES BOND SHALT RETURN

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited March 24


    As interpreted by Barbel, caractacus potts, Westward_Drift (because we have run out of James Bond films.)


    SCENE 1


    Outside ye office of Colonel Ross, Yeoman Palmer awaits entrance, reading through ye latest scrolls.


    Palmer: This ist no kind of work, awaiting ye pleasure of Colonel Ross to send me on some other boring task. Let me see…. (He looks at ye “Sits Vac” column.) Hmm, someone ist in need of a butler- mayhap when I am older I may consider that. What else…? A job in Italy? Searching for a shark….? Nay, that sounds ridiculous.


    (Ye door opens and Colonel Ross’s clerking wench, Alice, sticks her unattractive head out.)


    Alice: Get thine ass in here pronto, Palmer, ye Colonel wants to see ye.


    Palmer: How canst I resist?


    (Palmer doth enter ye office. Colonel Ross looks up from some paperwork.)


    Ross: Palmer, thou art being reassigned. From now on thee shalt be working in Major Dalby's office.


    Palmer: I see. This is a promotion, 'en, innit sire? Doth it come with a rise in me pay?


    Ross: What? (Checks paperwork.) Hmm, yes an extra tuppence per fortnight. Now, ye important thing ist...


    Palmer: Well 'at's just swell, sir, now I canst afford yon new frying pan I've been looking at.


    Ross: I must warn you, Dalby does not share mine sense of humour!


    Palmer: Aye, I shalt miss that about thee, sire.



    ----------------------------------------------


    SCENE 2


    (Palmer takes his leave of Colonel Ross, exits ye building and starts walking toward Major Dalby’s office. On ye way, a silver carriage (made by ye DB5th Earl of Aston and ye Lord Martin) doth splash him.)


    Palmer: Flash git!


    (He continues walking and reaches Major Dalby’s office. Ye Major looks up when Palmer enters, late.)


    Dalby: Thou art late, Palmer.


    Palmer: Aye, sire. Mine apologies, sire.


    Dalby: I know not how things art run in Colonel Ross’s office, but such tardiness ist not acceptable here. Do I make mineself clear?


    Palmer: Sorry, sire.


    Dalby: I have here Colonel Ross’s report on thee. (Reads.) “Insubordinate… insolent…. Possible criminal tendencies….”


    Palmer: Aye, ‘tis so.


    Dalby: Good, thou dost sound like ye kind of man I can use. But let me warn ye, Palmer, cause me no trouble or I shalt bite thee so hard thou shalt not know where mine teeth end and thine skin begins. Do I make mineself clear?


    Palmer: Aye, sire, very clear. I thank’ee for a wonderful evening.


    Dalby: Spare me thine jokes, Palmer, I lack Colonel Ross’s sense of humour.


    Palmer: Aye, sire. I shalt miss that, sire.


    Dalby: Now, to ye briefing room. Thou shalt meet thine fellows there.


    --------------------------------------


    SCENE 3


    A briefing room. Major Dalby stands waiting, facing a room with about six or eight agents. Palmer enters, late as ever, and instantly spots ye only attractive female in ye room and goes to sit beside her.


    Dalby: Now that we are all here (Gives Palmer a look.) let us begin. Many of our most noted alchemists have been going missing, nowhere to be found. Ye latest ist a man called Radcliffe. ‘Tis my belief that our department hast what ist commonly known as a “lead”. Look ye here.


    (He uses a stick to point at an ink portrait of a middle-aged man on ye wall behind him.)


    Dalby: This ist our main target, name of Grantby, codenamed “Budgerigar”. Never does he travel without this man beside him.


    (Dalby points at a portrait of a tough-looking man.)


    Dalby: Code-named “Parakeet”. Now, thine task ist to accumulate data on Budgerigar’s movements and habits. Palmer, thou shalt be working with….


    (Palmer looks hopefully at ye attractive female.)


    Dalby: ...Carswell, there.


    (A man smiles at Palmer, who tries to hide his disappointment. Major Dalby leaves, and Palmer immediately turns to ye lady.)


    Palmer: ‘Allo, fair lady, thou canst call me ‘arry. What do they call thee?


    Jean: Thou canst call me Jean, but I do believe thou art to work with Carswell.


    Carswell: Hello, Palmer, come with me and I shalt show thee our office.


    Palmer: Of course. (As they leave he turns to Jean again.)


    Palmer: See thee later, mayhap?


    Jean: Mayhap.


    (Later, in an office.)


    Carswell: Now, Palmer, Major Dalby ist most insistent that we are meticulous with our work.


    Every day, thou must fill out a BUMF/ODDER 001 form and return it to him. Should thee have to leave ye office, thou must complete a WAS/T.E.O.F./T.I.M.E. 002 and submit it to ye purser’s office.


    Palmer: Bloody ‘ell, ist that all we do all day? Fill out forms?


    Carswell: We must make sure that ye correct colour ink ist used on ye correct forms. Ye size of ye feather used ist of paramount importance.


    Palmer: Other agents I could name travel ye world. Battle villains. Romance beautiful women. Ol' 'Arry ist trapped in a gray office under gray London skies with a “Licence to Quill”.


    Carswell: ‘Tis ye way Major Dalby likes it.


    Palmer: Well, ‘tis not my way. I shalt see ye later.

    -------------------------------------------

    SCENE 4

    Palmer approaches a building in ye shadow of St Paul’s Cathedral. A young street urchin approaches.

    Urchin: The men you desire went into that there building.

    Palmer: Art thou certain?

    Urchin: Aye. His carriage ist over yonder. It ist readily apparent with ye orange and green racing stripes.

    Palmer: So it is. Well done my good lad.

    Urchin: Where’s me money? Me friends and me ‘ast searched many a time fo’ it.

    (Palmer hands the child a coin. The boy bites ye coin and runs off.)

    Palmer: (Aside.) Legwork ist best when other legs dost the work.

    (Palmer approaches ye building entrance only to be stopped by a doorman.)

    Palmer: I hast urgent business with a gentleman named Grantby.

    Doorman: Thine accent is not of a learned alchemist.

    Palmer: I am merely a humble messenger, but like an alchemist I’ve always enjoyed a good session with ye “mortar & pestle.” (He rhythmically pounds his fist into his palm leering suggestively. Ye Doorman laughs knowingly and moves to one side.)

    Doorman: Enter, Friend.

    (Palmer travels down a corridor to a grand room.)

    Palmer: (Aside.) There must be ‘undreds of books and scrolls on these shelves, but Dalby would’st ‘ave us write so many reports as to make them seem but a grocery list. (He looks around.) There be my feathered quarry Budgerigar with his valet Parakeet at yon table with scrolls unfurled and books op’n’d.

    Grantby: Bring me Agathodaemon’s scroll of the elements.

    Parakeet: Aye, sir. It may take up to 30 minutes to find which alcove it is in. Ye librarian ist at lunch.

    (Ye valet exits and Palmer sits at the table across from Grantby.)

    Palmer: We come seeking Alchemist wares relating to ye transmutation of lead and mercury. It wast lost on a boat on ye Thames. We think you canst help us get it back.

    (The other patrons loudly shush Palmer. Grantby points to a sign.)


    Grantby: Canst thou read?

    Palmer: Aye. I wast school’d. We would be willing to do a deal.

    (Nearby, behind a bookcase lurks a Suspicious Stranger in an Eggplant Purple doublet. He inches closer to overhear Palmer and Grantby.)

    Audience Member: Hey, that man’s sneaking up on you. He looks right suspicious.

    Suspicious Stranger: (Replying to ye audience member with a thick French accent.) Shh! Sacre Bleu! Can’t thou read? (He points to ye sign.)

    Audience Member: No, I cannot! Wanna make somefing of it?

    (Grantby removes a folded bit of paper from his doublet. He scribbles a few words and hands ye paper to Palmer.)

    Grantby: Meet me after six at this tavern.

    (Palmer briefly looks at ye paper, puts it into his pocket, gets up and silently leaves. As he exits ye doorman smiles and pounds his fist into his palm. Palmer walks down ye street to The Mermaid Tavern. He spots a sign on ye door.)

    Palmer: Bastard.

    (Palmer runs back to ye Alchemist building and espies Grantby and his valet walking toward his carriage.)

    Palmer: Grantby! ‘Alt! We ‘ave business.

    (Parakeet grabs Palmer who punches him. Palmer and ye valet exchange blows. The pair fight with ye expertise of two nine-year-olds in a sandlot. Palmer knocks ye valet to ye ground several times but in his distraction fails to see Grantby entering his carriage. Ye valet stands and grabs Palmer in a bear hug. He then knees Palmer in ye groin several times. Palmer collapses, writhing. Parakeet climbs aboard ye carriage and he and Grantby drive off.

    None of the three have noticed ye Suspicious Stranger in ye Eggplant Purple doublet watching ye entire exchange while lurking behind a corner.)

    Audience Member: See, he's still lurking around. Very suspicious, I tell thee.

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited March 24

    SCENE 5

    Dalby's office. Palmer walks in like a knight after riding at a gallop all morning in full armour, the saddle firmly ensconced up his arse and nether regions.

    Dalby: Oh sit down, Palmer.

    Palmer: (Gratefully.) Thank you, sir. (He sits down very carefully.)

    Dalby: I have read thine report. Grantby gave you a note, which led you to a false rendezvous, then you got into a fight with his valet.

    Palmer: Aye, sir.

    Dalby: That wast most stupid of thee, Palmer. Thou art not Sir James Bond, thou knowest.

    Palmer: Aye, sir. He gets much better paid than I do.

    Dalby: Enough. Give me ye paper, Palmer. 

    (Harry hands ye folded paper given by Grantby to Dalby.)

    Dalby: Dost thou consider your actions worthy of a real spy’s legwork?

    Palmer: Well, Major, the valet fella’ worked his leg into my groin with quite o’ bit o’ action.

    Dalby: I do not share Colonel Ross’s sense of humour, Palmer. Did you ever think to unfold ye paper and look at ye other side of it?

    Palmer: (Sheepishly.) No.

    Dalby: 'Tis a handbill for a concert at ye Olde Band Shell this Sunday. Obviously, this is ye real meeting place, not The Mermaid Tavern. You're a poor excuse for a spy Palmer.

    Palmer: If ye say so, Sir.

    Dalby: Meet me at ye Olde Band Shell on Sunday if we have nay retrieved Radcliffe by then.

    __________________________

    SCENE 6


    Palmer returns to his lodgings. A sound inside gives him pause; he doth look down through ye keyhole and spies a hand holding a knife. He straightens sharply and bursts through ye door.


    Jean: There. Now thou hast made me miss it.

    (Jean Courtney, wearing ye top of a set of ‘arry’s pyjamas, walks over to ye calendar on ye wall and retrieves ye knife she hast just thrown.)

    Palmer: Thou doth not miss a thing… except ye date. Today ist ye thirteenth.

    Jean: I am superstitious.

    Palmer: How did ye get in? Never mind that, thou art here. Who sent ye, Ross?

    Jean: Nay, I work for Dalby, thou dost work for Ross.

    Palmer: Nay thou works for Ross, I work for Dalby.

    Jean: Dalby.

    Palmer: Ross.

    Jean: Dalby!

    Palmer: Ross! Anyway, what hast thou learnt about me?

    Jean: Thou art a one time Naval Yeoman forced to work for ye intelligence service. Unlike many, thou can read and write. (She holds up a book as evidence, “Birds Of Ye West Indies”.

    Palmer: I do wish I had never learned to, ‘twould spare me ye torture of endless paperwork.

    Jean: I can see thee as useful, since Yeomen go where Officers fear to tread.

    Palmer: Art thou hungry?

    Jean: Tempted I am.

    Palmer: Then sit ye here whilst I cook.

    (He indicates a seat in front of a musical instrument.)

    Jean: Hmm, a cimbalom- these are most rare.

    (Jean sits and looks around. Ye apartment hath low wood beams and an elaborate kitchen seeming to overspill its portion of ye floorplan. ‘Tis a small cluttered apartment with a lot of ye area given over to cooking needs. She can see recipes pinned up on his walls, but too far away to read. Ye area round ye cimbalom ist well-ordered, though ye rest is a bit of a mess.)

    Palmer: (Enters kitchen and gathers several implements.) Aye, I had it, er, imported from Hungary.

    Jean: Smuggled, thou doth mean. (Jean looks round at 'arry's larder full of strange exotic foods.) Most unusual, I don't recognise all these trendy imported foods. Oh, these art "champignons", art they not?

    Palmer: That’s right.

    Jean: Thou doth fancy thineself a real gourmet.

    (Palmer begins to prepare a meal while Jean plays at ye cimbalom. ‘Tis a haunting melody, most suitable for a man alone.)

    Jean: What art thou making?

    Palmer: Well, I shalt use onion, garlic, olive oil, tomatillo, avocado, black beans, pinto beans, frijoles refritos ('ats yet more beans), lime, cilantro, maize-based flatbread, mozzarella, chocolate, nineteen variety of peppers, with coffee afterwards. and wuffahell, might as well av summa 'em champignons.

    ('arry stands and chops behind a massive wooden cutting board overlooking ye living room where Jean plays ye cimbalom . Behind him is an array of open flames, over which sit iron cauldrons, frying pans, sauce pans, and something like a potters kiln built of brick. All are bubbling and sizzling and 'e spins between each wif split second timing, not cuttin' or burnin' 'imself once.

    On ye cutting board 'e finely chops garlic, onions, tomatillos and peppers then stirs ye result in a bowl wif olive oil.)

    Palmer: 'Ere's some nice spicy salsa! (Picks up dark green object the size of his hand.)

    Jean: But what is this?!!? Thou art holding a hand grenade!

    Palmer: Naw luv, 'tis an avocado (Slices, separates pit, scoops out green flesh and mashes with more garlic, olive oil, lime and cilantro) an' theres our gwac! Now lessee if these beans are ready. (With an immense ladle he scoops out a mixture of cooked beans from ye iron cauldron.)

    Jean: Thou certainly dost have an irresponsible number of open flames in such a small apartment!

    Palmer: That reminds me, luv, ye mind opening yon window so we can see what we're doing?

    (Jean opens ye window and thick clouds of black smoke dissipate.)

    ('arry pulls out two flatbreads, lays them on ye cutting board, and fills each generously wif beans, gwac, salsa and a dollop of sour cream. He rolls each into a wrap and coats with shredded mozzarella. Then with a long wooden paddle he carefully places both in ye kiln. Whilst waiting for ye kiln to do its magic, 'e mashes some soft chocolate in a small vessel with nineteen different varieties of chopped peppers into a paste and heats over yet anuffer open flame. Then he withdraws both flatbread wraps from ye kiln, places each on a clean plate, and presents ye chocolate pepper mixture on ye side as an optional seasoning.)

    Palmer: 'Ere ye goes luv, bean burritos wif guac' an salsa, an mole sauce on a side!

    Jean: Wenches dig a man who can cook!

    (Jean takes a bite and immediately emits a ladylike whoopee cushion sound effect.)

    Palmer: Aye 'tis ye beans, ats ow ye know its cooked authentically! Good innit?

    Jean: Delicious, especially ye guac' and ye salsa. and this mole sauce, I could even eat it even without ye peppers, by ye boxful!

    Palmer: Glad I am that thou hast enjoyed it.

    Jean: So, I have learned that ye art a good cook and interested in music.

    Palmer: Well, surely thou wert sent to learn about me.

    Jean: I have learned much, and call me Shirley not.

    Palmer: But of course.

    Jean: Thine eyeglasses, do thee ever take them off?

    Palmer: Only in bed.

    (Jean reaches to his face and takes ye eyeglasses off….)

    ---------------------------------------

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited March 25

    -------------------------------------------

    SCENE 7


    (Dalby's office. Dalby sits staring into space waving his finger like a baton, uttering a strange unpleasant noise.)

    Dalby: Hum, hum, hum-diddly-hum ... wait where was I? Oh yes, diddly-hum, now what comes next? another hum or another diddly?

    (Palmer runs into Dalby's office, then stops and holds ye door for balance, struggling to catch his breath.)

    Palmer: Puff, puff, puff...

    Dalby: What's all this Palmer? Why aren't you in ye field doing legwork?

    Palmer: Sir, I just gots anuffer lead! Come quick! (Tries to wave Dalby out ye door.)

    Dalby: Palmer, you interrupted me when I was busy humming out-of-date military marches! I ought to discipline you for this!

    Palmer: But sir, its a right solid lead from, er, a trusted informant. (Aside.) I dare not tell this old stick in ye mud my informants are all street urchins! (Aloud.) Budgerigar and Parakeet are in a warehouse on Creepy Olde Warehouse Lane on ye other side of town this very moment!

    Dalby: I hast told thee once I want more legwork, less inspired hunches! Now run along!

    Palmer: Sir, I was just at ye bloomin warehouse, I's seen 'em go inside! Speaking o’ bloody legwork I just ran clear cross London to tells you!

    Dalby: And this was worth interrupting my humming out-of-date military marches was it?

    Palmer: You said you wanted to find these rascals! I knows where they are right now! Look, let’s you'n'me round up ye uffer agents an we'll surround ye place while theyre still inside!

    Dalby: Now you know it's not that easy Palmer. If you wish a warrant to open private property and conduct a search thee must fill out a form Whoo(P)Cush(N)SFX-dash-plfft!

    Palmer: (Slaps hand to forehead, stoops wearily.) Ah no sir, not a bloody Whoo(P)Cush(N)SFX-dash-plfft!, Thass 150 bleedin pages long!!!

    Dalby: You mind your language you escapee from ye criminal underclass! There ist only one way to obtain a warrant to open private property and conduct a search and that ist to fill out a form Whoo(P)Cush(N)SFX-dash-plfft. And make sure you use the correct colour ink or you shall have to begin all over again and pay for ye paper you have wasted!

    Palmer: (On knees, begging.) Ah no sir, please, they’re right! There! In ye floggin' warehouse right! Now! I swear...

    Dalby: I've told you once Palmer. Now get on with it!

    Palmer: Aw sir... ('arry slumps out of Dalby's office defeated; Dalby resumes his cheerful but tuneless humming.)

    Dalby: Now where was I? Oh yes: hum, hum, hum-diddly-hum, diddly-hum; hum, hum, hum! Diddly-hum, diddly-hum. I quite like that one! ‘Tis a fine Imperial March!


    (In ye office Palmer shares with Carswell.)

    Carswell: Now ye start a Whoo(P)Cush(N)SFX-dash-plfft by filling in this bit here,’tis thine name, see? Your name would be Harry, of course?

    Palmer: Yeah, ‘tis right. (Turns to audience, hand to mouth as if sharing a secret.) Now my name's not 'arry!

    Carswell: (Writing very carefully.) Hair... Ree! Now, that’s done it! Looks good! Now let me see…. (Counts.) Only nineteen more pages to go and we're done with this one! And after that we can start on those! (Points to overflowing pile of papers tumbling off table onto floor.)

    Palmer: Thou hast got to be kidding me, surely!

    Carswell: Nay, and my name ist not-

    Palmer: This form here- we must skip it and get moving as quickly as possible.

    Carswell: Nay, nay, Palmer. Not without filling in this form, old man. Section 26, Paragraph 5. Need to know. Sure thou doth understand.

    (Palmer sits and begins ye onerous task, desperate to get it done as quickly as possible.)


    (Dalby’s office. Palmer bursts in.)


    Palmer: Here, sir. I ‘ave filled in ye Whoo(P)Cush(N)SFX-dash-plfft form!

    Dalby: Oh, thou hast? (He takes ye form and examines it.) But nay, Palmer- this ist in blue ink and ye regulations doth clearly state that it must be in black ink.

    Palmer: (Dismayed.) But sir-

    Dalby: No “buts”, Palmer. Now go away and do this again- and I shalt be docking ye cost of this from thine wages!


    (Half an hour later….)

    Palmer: (Wearily.) Here, sir, thine form- in black ink.

    Dalby: Let me see…. Hmm, this would appear to be correct. All right, Palmer, let us go.

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited March 25

    --------------------------------------

    SCENE 9

    A Warehouse. Dalby, Palmer and a dozen worker types have shown up and entered ye warehouse and it ist empty.

    Worker Type: Sorry squire, there’s nuffink ere. Whyntcha just pay us an’ we'll be off n still ‘av time t’catch a game?

    Dalby: You were instructed to be here precisely when high noon was above ye local steeple and you arrived five minutes late

    Worker Type: Naw look, guv, we busts opens warehouses all round London town and dere's lotsa churchsteeples, and each has ‘er own local relative high noon, so who's to say whevver we's five minnits late or five minnits early?

    Dalby: I'm to say, local church steeple takes precedence. There shalt not be standarised time zones for another three centuries! Therefore time ist measured in relation to the closest church steeple. You arrived late, thou art fired without pay! Be off with you!

    Worker Type: (Exits with mates.) Bleedin toff!

    Palmer: ‘Ats right civil of ye, sir. Ye know if I ‘ad been right bout this ‘ere warehouse I'da been a ‘ero!

    Dalby: But thou wast wrong Palmer! Don't you ever fill out a Whoo(P)Cush(N)SFX-dash-plfft again, Palmer, dost thou hear?

    (Dalby struts off stage right, Harry shuffles round warehouse set muttering to himself, kicking stray detritus, when something flies from beneath his feet.)

    Palmer: Cor! Major Dalby sir, come’n’see, itsa whatsis, a watchyermacallit, a carrier pigeon!

    Dalby: (Returning to stage centre.) A carrier pigeon thou sayest?

    Palmer: Naw, ‘ats not right, not a carrier pigeon, ‘tis one of ‘em birds from ye tropics all ye pyrates are bringin’ back to London wif ‘em. Y’know, ye silly lookin’ ones ‘at talk! A carrier parrot! They repeat what they ‘ear people say!

    Dalby: And you sayest such birds talk, dost thou? Perhaps we'd better take this one back to headquarters. I say, wouldst thou care for some lunch?

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited March 25

    SCENE 10


    Dalby’s office. Ye staff are all crowded round his desk, upon which sits ye parrot.

    Dalby: You must be ye most incompetent agent ever, Palmer, I send thee out after Parakeet and instead thou hast brought back a parrot! They are not the same thing, you know! Don’t thee know anything about birds?

    Palmer: (Aside.) Oh, I knows a fing or two about birds alright!

    Jean: (To ye parrot, obviously.) Who’s a pretty boy then?

    Carswell: Polly want a cracker?

    (Ye parrot gives them a look of disdain.)

    Palmer: ‘Tis like ‘e don’t know ‘ow ter speak proper English. Here, what’s this on his ankle?

    Carswell: His ankle? What is it?

    Palmer: ‘Tis ye joint between his leg and his foot, but that’s not important right now.

    Jean: It doth look like a ring of some sort.

    Dalby: Let me see…. It hath writing. It says “One ring to rule them all, one ring to-”

    Palmer: Nay, nay, sir, it says “Ipcress”.

    Carswell: Ipcress?

    Jean: Ipcress?

    Parrot: Ipcress! Ipcress!

    Dalby: What on earth ist an, what did they say, “ipcleft”?

    Palmer: Nay, sir, Ipcress.

    Parrot: Ipcress! Ipcress!

    Palmer: Well, ‘e seems to know what it’s all about.

    Parrot: What’s it all about, Alfie?

    Palmer: Ssh, my name’s not Alfie.

    Parrot: Give it time, Harry, give it time.

    Jean: Oh, he ist talking away no problem now.

    Parrot: ATAC to St Cyrils! ATAC to St Cyrils!

    Dalby: I do not understand.

    (Ye parrot begins to make a series of strange sounds.)

    Parrot: Ah-oo-ga! Poopding poopding poopding ! Boyoyoyoyoing!!

    Palmer: Now I do not understand, either.

    Carswell: I shalt take him to ye lab and study these sounds.

    Palmer: Just make sure to feed him.

    Carswell: Feed him? With what?

    Parrot: Polly wants a cracker!

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited March 25

    SCENE 11

    A park. A brass band plays. Dalby sits in ye audience, Palmer enters and sits beside him.

    Palmer: Major Dalby-

    Dalby: Sssh! (His hand beats out ye rhythm of ye tune being played upon his stick.)

    Palmer: But, sir-

    Dalby: Sshh, Palmer! This ist one of mine favourites.

    (Palmer sits impatiently waiting for ye tune to finish. When it does, he speaks again.)

    Palmer: Sir, do ye mind telling me what we art here for?

    Dalby: Why ye rush, Palmer?

    Palmer: I am scared any of me mates might see me ‘ere wif this old-fashioned stuff.

    Dalby: Culture and ye art strangers, Palmer. Just enjoy ye beautiful music.

    Palmer: Beautiful music? That ist a military march!

    Dalby: Of course.

    Palmer: Aw, sir, that was cornball back in ye days of Boadicea!

    Dalby: Her army did not have sousaphones. Now ssh, here come ye next one.

    (Ye band begins again. Palmer gets more impatient. When ye next tune finishes, he tries again.)

    Palmer: Major, ‘tis most important we-

    Dalby: Be quiet, Palmer. Now I know you think I'm an old fuddy-duddy, a bit of a pompous git with a broom stuck up his buttocks, and all that sort of rot, as you young folk say. But I "dig" a few "toons" myself, and fancy I can "get down" with the best of them! (Dalby bops his head and pumps his fist to ye marching music with ye least sense of groove ever.)

    Palmer: Yes I can see that sir. (Looks round to see if anybody he knows is watching.) Most, er, embarrassing sir. But do go on.


    (Ye villains arrive, led by Parakeet. Palmer sinks low in his chair and pulls his collar up and his hat down.)

    Palmer: (Aside.) I don’t want even ye villains to recognise me wif this old coot!

    Parakeet: So why’d ye have us meet you here, Dalby? Awful noisy isn’t it?

    Dalby: It’s not noise, it’s out of date marching music, and I happen to like it! It's spiffy!

    Parakeet: Er, if thou sayest so. I guess it doesn’t suck too much. Let’s get on with this deal.

    Palmer: (Turns outraged.) What’s this? Doesn’t suck too much?!!? It sucks rotten ol’ ostrich eggs is what it sucks! I can’t believe your encouragin’ ‘im! Bloody ‘ell, you villains, I tells ye! (Shakes head in disgust.)

    Parakeet: Why look who it is! It’s my buddy ye punching bag from ye library! Hey look all you minions, I beat up this loser at ye library! Hahaha!

    Minions: Hahaha! You’re ye big man at ye library, boss! Hahaha!

    Dalby: Quiet you lot! I can’t hear ye music!

    Palmer: Seriously though, even you villains oughta have better musical taste than t’ listen to this din!

    Dalby: (Shouting to bandstand.) Yeah! Woohoo! Play Darth Vader’s Imperial March!

    Parakeet: (Gives Palmer a bit of a skeptical look) Oh yeah? What groups are you into, if you’re so much cooler than us?

    Palmer: (Rises in seat slightly.) Well I just ‘appen to be ye worlds biggest fan o’ Mozart!

    Parakeet: (Looks to minions.) Mozart? Who’s that?

    Minion 1: Never heard of them!

    Minion 2: Yeah, you’re making them up, there’s no such group as Mozart!

    Dalby: (Shouting to bandstand.) Never mind all that filler! Play ye Imperial March!!!

    Palmer: Mozart’s not a group, he’s a composer, and ye reason you haven’t heard o’ ‘im is because ‘e won’t be born for another 150 years!

    Parakeet: What?!!? Won’t be born for 150 years? Well how do you know he’s going to be any good then? Eh! Got you there!

    Palmer: I ‘appen to know cuz I’s an afficianado o’ avant garde composers! Mozart’s gonna be th’ best composer what ever lived, and I’m ye first spy on my block to be into ‘im!

    Parakeet: (Waves hand dismissively.) Bah, that makes no sense, you’re just being a poseur!

    Palmer: Oh yeh? Lookit this! (Turns round to reveal denim jacket with Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart written on back in crayons, in immense Gothic script with elaborate calligraphy and extra umlauts.)

    Parakeet: Woah, that is cool!

    Palmer: And I got all these badges! I get them from ye booth next to ye American Imports section at ye Farmers Market!

    Parakeet: Hmm, that’s a lot of badges for a composer who won’t be born for 150 years…

    Palmer: And this! (Opens jacket to reveal Mozart concert t-shirt, further labelled Eine Kleine Nachtmusik World Tour 1787)

    (Band begins playing Darth Vader’s Imperial March. Dalby leaps onto ye chair, blocking view of audience behind, making devil horns sign above his head and bopping his head like he’s having a seizure. This covers him exchanging papers with Parakeet.)

    Dalby: Yeah! Woohoo! It’s ye Imperial March! Waahooo! Hum, hum hum-diddly-hum, diddly-hum! Come on you lot, get into it! Hum, hum hum-diddly-hum, diddly-hum!

    (Palmer, Parakeet and minions all discreetly move to ye back row so no one thinks they’re with Dalby.)

    Parakeet: So hast thou ever seen him in concert?

    Palmer: Naw, course not! Those compositions will only be performed in the future! But since I eat a good ‘ealfy diet wif lotsa imported American foods that none o’ you fellers know about cuz only really cool spies eat ‘em, I’m in real good healf, an’ mebbe I’ll live that long an mebbe I can see ‘im one day!

    Parakeet: So? Will you see him, then, if you do live that long?

    Palmer: What?!!? Hawhawhaw! Naw, don’t be daft!

    Parakeet: But you just said he’s ye greatest composer that will ever live!

    Palmer: Yeh, well, that’s true, but! In 1787 Mozart’ll be bloody mainstream pop music and every last granny in a suburbs will be lissenin’ to ‘im! Where’s ye fun in that for a music snob? Naw, if I’m still alive in 1787 I’ll be ye first spy on the block to be a fan of the Velvet Underground and Nico!

    (Dalby is still humming off toon and dancing spastically in front of ye bandstand, all alone. He does not notice ye band have packed up their instruments and moved to another band-shell so as not to be seen with him. As Palmer leaves, ye Suspicious Stranger who hast been observing ye entire thing follows.)

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited March 25

    SCENE 12

    A trendy booth at ye Farmers Market specialising in exotic American imports. 'arry is shopping for newly introduced food products only grown in ye Americas, looking very hip and at home. In ye middle of ye aisle he spots Ross, staring at an ear of maize, looking uncomfortable and confused.

    Palmer: Ah 'allo Colonel Ross, didn’t know thou were an enthusiast for ye new American imports!

    Ross: (Very unconvincingly.) Palmer! What a surprise to see thee here! Yes, yes of course, I shop here all ye time. Love ye stuff. Er, what ist this one, seems quite popular? (Points to display being near continuously picked from by fidgety customers.)

    Palmer: Now that be tobacco leaf sir, nice‘n’addictive an’ ye dont even get 'igh like wif Indian hemp! I bet some people could smoke 70 a day an’ not feel a thing!

    Ross: I don’t think I see ye point of that. What ist that one you have there?

    Palmer: That there is a potato.

    Ross: Looks boring. Give it to ye Irish. And this?

    Palmer: Ah that’s coffee beans sir, me fav'rit! ‘Tis also nice’n’addictive but it keeps ye wide awake.

    Ross: Well that does sound more useful. How about this?

    Palmer: Coca leaf sir, for when ye coffee don’t work no more- ‘tis even more addictive.

    Ross: Now see here Palmer, are there any of these newfangled American imports that aren’t addictive drugs? Isn’t there anything nice and tasty ye can eat?

    Palmer: well, all 'ese ones 'ere, sir, look, 'ere's peppers, tomatillo, tomato, potato, sweet potato, pumpkin, squash, avocado, pineapple, papaya, pawpaw, passionfruit, banana, chocolate and vanilla, sunflower, amaranth, quinoa, cashew, pecan, chestnut, walnut, Brazil nut, strawberry, blueberry, cranberry, huckleberry, chuckberry, johnberry, halliberry...

    Ross: You're not fooling me Palmer, I know all about your criminal proclivities, you're trying to get me "hooked"!

    Palmer: Naw sir, not me. Well that maize ye have in yer hand, sir, 'ats a food staple, lots ye can do wif maize and ‘tis very nutritious.

    Ross: But how do you eat this thing?

    Palmer: Wif yer teef sir, ye bite the kernels off wif yer teef.

    Ross: Preposterous! Most of us English folk don’t even have teeth!

    Palmer: Or... ye can slice off ye kernels and cook ‘em in an iron cauldron wif 'ot oil! Then ye get popped maize, sir! Look, ‘alf ye people in ye theatre are eatin’ bucketfuls o' that right now! (Gestures to Audience.)

    Audience: Chomp chomp chomp chomp! Chomp chomp chomp chomp! Chomp chomp chomp chomp! Chomp chomp chomp chomp! etc

    Voice At Back: Oy you lot, quit chompin’ yer popped maize so loud, I can not hear ye dialogue!

    Second Voice: What’s a point? This Playe makes even less sense when you can hear ye dialogue!

    Ross: (Glares at Audience, then turns back to face Palmer.) Well ye still need some teeth for that. Speaking of exotic edible delicacies, Palmer, I happen to hear that, er, Major Dalby has got himself a talking parrot?

    Palmer: Well I don't know if I'd know anyfink bout 'at sir.

    Ross: Aye, very good, correct answer. Of course, if I were, let us say, to be interested in what this talking parrot has to say, er...

    Palmer: If?

    Ross: Let us imagine, just to be theoretical, that I were Colonel Ross...

    Palmer: I don't know, I can’t keep up wif 'oo's 'oo in this Playe sir. (Aside to Audience.) All I know is my name aint 'arry!

    Ross: ...and if, suppositionally speaking of course, I were still your superior officer, do ye think some one might, er, be able to "accidentally" procure said talking parrot for me?

    Palmer: Naw, naw, sir, of course I'd never do 'at sir, cuz 'at would be illegal.

    Ross: In that case, theoretically speaking, what if I were to "accidentally" throw your smart arse back into Gaol if you don't? (Ross gives a very direct look at Palmer, who looks straight back at him. Ross changes ye subject.) How about this one? A glass vessel full of "Pre-Chewed Maize", it says, "No Teeth Required"!

    Palmer: Naw ye don’t want 'at, 'ats baby food, sir!

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited March 25

    SCENE 13


    Tis nightfall. Two coaches enter a yard of a business closed for the night. The yard is filled with half-painted carriages and coaches, some in garish colors. Shadows loom everywhere. A sign on ye fence gives ye business name.


    (The coaches stop at a respectable distance from one another. Dalby, Palmer, a Doctor, and enough agents to fill a jester coach disembark. Palmer and a few of ye agents raise crossbows and aim it at ye other coach. One agent is carrying a wooden chest with a large "£" on it; he, ye Doctor, and another nondescript agent take point.

    Likewise, a number of men alight from ye other coach. Two are carrying a stretcher with an unconscious Alchemist Radcliffe. Grantby and his valet Parakeet come into view. Two men carrying ye stretcher take lead position. Grantby remains by his coach while Parakeet joins the men carrying the stretcher. Several more of their brethren have aimed weapons at ye opposing coach.)


    Dalby: I did nay expect you to oversee ye exchange thyself.

    Grantby: I must earn my commission.

    Dalby: Quite. Standard Exchange Protocol, then. (To Grantby.) Doest thou object to me starting?

    (Grantby gestures his acquiescence.)

    Dalby: Excellent.

    (Dalby begins to move his hands as if playing a snare drum.)

    Dalby: Approach.

    (The six men approach each other, walking in lockstep, almost like a synchronized march.

    Dalby: Boomshakalaka, Boomshakalaka, Boomshakalaka, Boom!

    (The two groups have stopped at ye midpoint between ye coaches. The stretcher carrying Alchemist Radcliffe and ye small chest are placed on ye ground.)

    Grantby: (Taking over as per Standard Exchange Protocol.) Bow to your partner.

    (Ye Doctor and ye valet, Parakeet, give one another a nod.)

    Grantby: Do-si-do.

    (Ye Doctor and Parakeet pass one another, turning such that they are back to back and almost touching as they pass. Ye Doctor kneels and examines ye Alchemist while Parakeet kneels and opens ye chest of money.)

    Grantby: Oi. Thou couldn’t have used just Sovereigns?

    Dalby: It’s all we had on such short notice!

    Grantby: This will take a bit to count.

    Palmer: (To himself.) Get on with it, then.

    Dalby: Have somewhere to be, Palmer?

    Palmer: Aye. I ‘ave a date lined up for tonight.

    (Dalby gives him a disdainful sneer and turns back to ye exchange.

    Ye doctor puts his ear to Radcliffe’s chest and then looks into his eyes. Radcliffe begins to awaken from his drugged slumber. Budgerigar meanwhile has removed ye different denominations of coins and stacked them on ye ground to be counted.)

    Doctor: What is thy name?

    Alchemist Radcliffe: Radcliffe.

    Doctor: Who is thy Minister in Parliament?

    Alchemist Radcliffe: I know not. And really, who doth care?

    Doctor: (To Dalby.) He sounds fine!

    Parakeet: You’ve made me lose my place with all thy talking. I have to start again. (He starts counting each stack of gold and silver again.) Let’s see. Twenty shillings to a pound….These Angels are seven shillings and six pence... (Eventually.) All here, Sir! (He places the coins back into ye chest.)

    Grantby: Let’s finish up then. Gentlemen...RAZzle DAZzle!!!

    (Ye Doctor and Parakeet circle 90 degrees while ye other four men circle around them 180 degrees and trade places. It all looks remarkably well choreographed. Dalby’s agents pick up the stretcher.)

    Dalby: (Again playing the air drum.) Why did the chicken cross the road? (The men start walking in lockstep to their respective groups.) To get from the left to the right. He stepped out of rank, got hit by a tank, he ain't no chicken no more, no!

    (Grantby and his men pile into their coach while Radcliffe is helped into Dalby’s coach. The enemy agents drive off.)

    Audience Member: There’s that purple fella’ again lurking!

    (Palmer turns and sees the Suspicious Stranger in ye Eggplant Purple Doublet lurking behind a half painted carriage.)

    Palmer: Look out! We’ve been betrayed.

    (The Suspicious Stranger begins to run away. Palmer quickly fires his crossbow and ye Suspicious Stranger collapses onto the ground next to a silver carriage made by ye DB5th Earl of Aston and ye Lord Martin. Palmer and Dalby run over to ye fallen man.)

    Dalby: Who art thou? Who dost thou work for?

    Suspicious Stranger: Mon Dieu, je suis assassiné.

    (The Suspicious Stranger dies.)

    Palmer. I think ‘e’s French, Sir.

    (Dalby gives Palmer a withering glare. He goes through ye dead man's clothing and pulls out a piece of paper.)

    Dalby: An introductory letter from Louis de Revol, ye French Foreign Minister and Secretary of State. The man was a Monsieur Aubergine.

    Palmer: Aubergine...that’s French for eggplant. A little on ye nose with ‘is choice of attire.

    Dalby: Stop thinking about food Palmer. You’ll have to cancel your date with ye Widow Courtney. You’ve just killed a French agent.

    Audience Member: See? We ‘ad reason to be suspicious o’ him!

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited March 25

    SCENE 14


    Dalby: Palmer, ye French have put a bounty on thine head.

    Palmer: A bounty! What is it?

    Dalby: It's a chocolate bar with a coconut filling, but that's not important right now. There ist much concern about Alchemist Radcliffe; it appears that he ist behaving ye same as ye parrot, babbling nonsense and making silly noises, and thou art being held responsible.

    Palmer: Me?

    Dalby: Thou must find a place to hide.

    Palmer: Well, I am sure I have a friend who will be happy to give me a bed.

    Dalby: Nay, Palmer, I do not mean Courtney's place.

    Palmer: I suppose you're right. I shan’t put 'er in peril too.

    Dalby: Palmer, we are spies. We should always to be aware of sources of peril. Now go, go further, out of ye country.

    Palmer: At once, Major.


    (Ye ancient River Thames. Palmer walks towards a barge.)

    Palmer: Hey, there. How much to take me to-

    (A club lands on his head from behind, rendering him unconscious.)

  • BarbelBarbel ScotlandPosts: 33,451Chief of Staff
    edited March 25

    SCENE 15


    'arry's in a gaol cell. The slot in ye door opens, there's a nice meal wif champignons and maize and crispy fried potatoes and a cup of espresso and other fine imported ingredients. 'e reaches for ye meal and ‘is fingers are whacked with a ‘ammer, and ye meal is taken away.

    A week later, 'arry's still in a gaol cell. Ye slot in the door opens, there’s a big nasty stinky wormy slice of amanita muscaria waiting for ‘im. 'arry's starvin’ and ‘e dont get ‘is fingers whacked, so ‘e eats ye nasty slice of amanita muscaria.


    An hour later, our 'arry's tootally trippin. Ye guards come 'n' drag ‘im to a torture chamber. There a Sorcerer disorients ‘im wif a Magic Lantern show.


    Next, ye Sorceror turns to a table with many strange devices on it. He begins to contort himself into absolutely ridiculous positions turning cranks whilst using ye devices to recreate ye sounds heard before from ye parrot.

    Palmer: Naw, naw, make it stop!

    Sorcerer: Now, listen to me. You will obey what I say. you will forget the Ipcress Folio.

    Palmer: Oh wowww, where am I? Whatsa Ipcress Folio?

    Sorcerer: You will obey what I say. You will forget your own name.

    Palmer: Wait! What name? I don’t fink I ‘as a name!

    Sorcerer: You will forget your own name. What is your name?

    Palmer: Well I know one fing! My name aint 'arry!

    Sorceror: !!! Wait! What's that you say?

    Palmer: My name aint 'arry!

    Sorceror: You quite definitely said your name is not Harry?

    Palmer: Thass right, guv, my name aint 'arry!

    Sorceror: Oh, jolly good! Well, that was easy! In that case I think we're done!

    Palmer: You’re kiddin'? It was jus’ gettin' interestin'!

    Sorceror: Nay, I think we've achieved everything we set out to. We're all done here, why not knock off early?

    Palmer: Wuff you mean, I gotta go back to that cell?

    Sorceror: No, no, you're free to leave! You don't need anything else from us! Off you go, and best of luck with your future endeavours and all that sort of thing!

     ('arry gets up and walks towards ye door marked EXIT.)

    Palmer: Ye mean juss like that?

    Sorceror: I'm sure there's other things you'd rather be doing right now, and frankly so would I! bye-bye!

    Minion: Boss, you sure 'bout this?

    Sorceror: Major Dalb- ..., Er, I mean that uptight toff who ist always humming out of tune, paid us to erase his memory, and we've obviously done what we're paid for! So let's all knock off early, shall we!

    Minion: Aw thass right, boss, fanks!

    (Palmer stops to ask one more more time just to be sure, thinks better of it, opens ye EXIT door and exits this scene.)

    Minion: Wait, didnt Major Dalb- ..., Er, I mean that uptight toff, also pay us to program some sort of brain washing trigger?

    Sorceror: (Starts to speak then stops, expression changing.) Oh bugger!!! Er, could you open ye EXIT door and see if he's still standing outside?

    Minion: Naw, 'e's long gone boss, dint waste no time gettin’ outa here!

    Sorceror: Oh bugger, indeed...

    Minion: Er, boss, does we still gets t'knock off early?


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