Hello everyone. The transcript is now done, but I'm having serious difficulty working out who's saying what in the pub scenes. It sounds to me like there are three voices - Dave's is easy enough to spot, but George is never addressed directly, and I'm as sure as I can be he's not the only other person in the scene. Only Dave and George are named in the credits, but Carl appears at the beginning, so the third voice may be his, but I've only ever heard him speak through the distortion mic, so I can't tell which is his voice if either. If anyone has worked it out, could they let me know? As there's a request for the transcript by Thursday (and I said I'd post it yesterday, but I got stuck in the wilds around Birmingham International Airport, which are appropriate as wilds go), I should probably post it anyway and fix it at a later date. Everything will have to be said by "George" until then. Please point and laugh at any other inevitable mistakes contained within. CARL: Welcome home, Golf Tango India. Vacate runway to your right, and taxi to your stand. MARTIN: Thank you, Carl. Oh, incidentally, be advised: as we landed, we saw a large hawk or kestrel about fifty feet from the runway. CARL: Noted, Golf Tango India. What was it doing? DOUGLAS: Watching how it’s supposed to be done. OPENING CREDITS: This week, Kuala Lumpur! Door squeaks open. ARTHUR: Mum? Can I borrow your car? CAROLYN: Why? What’s wrong with your car? ARTHUR: It’s really old, and it’s a horrible colour, and it smells of duffle coats. CAROLYN: What’s wrong with it that’s stopping you driving it? ARTHUR: Only those things. But I thought since we were on standby this week, I might go for some drives. In a nice car. Like yours! CAROLYN: No, you won’t! Because you and I will be using this week to see if we can ease your stewarding skills up above that crucial dividing line between very bad and merely bad. I’m going to be your mystery passenger. ARTHUR: Brilliant! Will there be clues? CAROLYN: I mean we’re going to sit in the plane, and you’re going to practise serving me. ARTHUR: Right! So what’s the mystery? CAROLYN: The mystery is who I am. ARTHUR: And who are you? CAROLYN: I’m me. ARTHUR: That’s not very mysterious. CAROLYN: Oh, life’s too short. You and I are going to pretend to be a steward and a passenger – ARTHUR: Oh, right. Bagsy be the steward! There is a knock at the squeaky door. MARTIN: Hello? Carolyn? Um, just had a thought. CAROLYN: Oh good! A pilot with a thought: how the gods smile upon me! MARTIN: Just occurred to me, for weeks like this, we really ought to have a pilots’ lounge. CAROLYN: A what? MARTIN: A pilots’ lounge. CAROLYN: Martin, the very last thing I want to do is encourage either of you to do any more lounging than you already do. MARTIN: It wouldn’t be for lounging in! It would be for our briefings, doing our log books. I thought maybe each month one of us could present a paper on some aspect of aviation that interests us. CAROLYN: And to think a moment ago I thought the idea couldn’t sound less appealing. ARTHUR: But mum, you could make money out of it. You could sell drinks. CAROLYN: Without a licence? To pilots? ARTHUR: No, no, I mean tea and coffee and things, to David and George from engineering and the fire crew and Carl the ATC. Even Dirk the groundsman! MARTIN: Uh, no, no, no, it – it would be a pilots’ lounge, not for those guys – for the pilots. ARTHUR: But that doesn’t make sense. I’m not a pilot. MARTIN: ...No. ARTHUR: But I’d be allowed in? MARTIN: No. CAROLYN: Martin, if you can find an empty room on the airfield, you are welcome to sit in it, and if you can lure Douglas in and then keep him there long enough to read a paper at him, you’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din. Close the door on your way out. MARTIN: But – CAROLYN: On which you should now go. I’m sorry, I thought that was implied. Door rattles. ARTHUR: Any good, Skip? MARTIN: No, Arthur, because it’s locked. ARTHUR: Ah. Ooh! I’ll tell you where you could try though – how about that scrapped DC10 fuselage out round the back of the hangar? I mean it’s probably full of rats and cobwebs and skeletons, but if we clean it up – MARTIN: That’s actually not a bad idea. Tell you what though, Arthur: if it does turn out to be suitable, I thought we might strike a happy compromise between my idea of keeping it just for pilots and your idea of inviting everyone who works on the airfield. ARTHUR: What would that be? MARTIN: Just the pilots. And you. ARTHUR: Oh! So I’d be like an honorary pilot? MARTIN: No, you’d just be...you. ARTHUR: Great! Although the engineers and everyone are really good fun. George does these brilliant impressions of fruit. MARTIN: Yes, I’m – I’m sure they’re great, but - but what I want is a nice, civilised arena to compare notes with my fellow professionals. Right, here it is. Laughter and chatter is heard from within the old fuselage. MARTIN: Is there – is there someone in there? ARTHUR: Sounds like it. Door opens. GEORGE: Next one, next one! Right, number twelve: the conference pear! The twelfth fruit impression is greeted by a chorus of raucous cheers. ARTHUR: Wow! Dave! George! Everyone! Hi! GEORGE: Arthur? Captain Crieff! MARTIN: Could someone please tell me what the hell’s going on in here? DOUGLAS: Hallo, Martin. MARTIN: Douglas!? DOUGLAS: Welcome to the Flap and Throttle. FLAP AND THROTTLERS: Yay! ARTHUR: What a brilliant place, Douglas! MARTIN: How long’s it been going on? DOUGLAS: We just had our third anniversary actually. MARTIN: So before I even got here? DOUGLAS: Yes. MARTIN: Why didn’t you tell me about it? DOUGLAS: Well, we were just waiting for you to settle in, you know – get comfortable with everyone. MARTIN: I’ve been here a year and a half! DOUGLAS: And we’re still waiting. MARTIN: I see. So it’s an illegal pub for everyone who works on the airfield except me. DOUGLAS: Well, to be honest, I didn’t think you’d approve. MARTIN: I don’t approve! DOUGLAS: I thought you might have told Carolyn or the airfield manager. MARTIN: I might have done. DOUGLAS: Right, so that’s why we didn’t tell you. ARTHUR: Yeah, but why didn’t you tell me? DOUGLAS: Because it was a secret, Arthur, and you are, without a shadow of a doubt, the worst liar in the world. ARTHUR: I’m not! DOUGLAS: All right, answer this question with a lie: what’s your name? ARTHUR: Arth...nuld Man, uh, Cat...su...man. DOUGLAS: Arthnuld Manacatsuman? ARTHUR: Yeah. DOUGLAS: That’s an unusual name. Tell me, is it made up? ARTHUR: Yes, it is. Oh! DOUGLAS: You see that’s the sort of trick question you want to watch for. I’ll tell you a secret. The way to lie convincingly is never make something up, just tell a different truth. So, if you have to lie about where you were today, tell them where you really were last week. If you have to give a false name, use a real name you already know. Try again. What’s your name? ARTHUR: Douglas Richardson! DOUGLAS: Better. Not quite perfect. A horn sounds. ARTHUR: Oh, I forgot. Mum’s waiting for me in the plane. MARTIN: What for? ARTHUR: She’s being my mystery passenger. DOUGLAS: Well, good luck. Let us know if you work out who she is. ARTHUR: Right-o! MARTIN: Douglas, an illegal pub on an airfield is incredibly dangerous and irresponsible. DOUGLAS: Don’t be so melodramatic. No-one drinks when they’re on duty. It’s just a bit of fun. It’s more about the secret club atmosphere – you know, like at school. MARTIN: Not at my school. DOUGLAS: Oh, come on! You must have had secret clubs in the lunch-break at least. MARTIN: No, actually. People weren’t really around during lunch-break. I think they went home or...oh. DOUGLAS: Ah. MARTIN: But anyway, I – I – I thought you didn’t drink – I thought you hadn’t had a drink for nine years? DOUGLAS: Martin, that is a secret. I have carefully built up my reputation as a hard-boozing sky god, and I’m not having you spoil it. MARTIN: So what do you drink there? DOUGLAS: If you must know, you know every year I win a bottle of Talisker single malt from Carolyn – MARTIN: Steal! DOUGLAS: Win. Well, I keep it in the Flap and Throttle. Everyone knows it’s for my personal use only. Not everyone knows it’s refilled with apple juice. MARTIN: Well, Douglas, look, I’m sorry, either you close it down immediately, or I’ll be forced to inform Carolyn. DOUGLAS: I can’t close it down - it’s not my pub. If you want it stopped, you’ll have to come down and tell them yourself. All the mechanics, the engineers, the fire crew, Dirk the groundsman. MARTIN: I’m not afraid of them! DOUGLAS: Nor should you be. Not even Dirk... MARTIN: Well, I’m not! DOUGLAS: Good. MARTIN: Why not even Dirk? DOUGLAS: No reason. I just mean someone who was afraid of them would probably start by being afraid of Dirk. It’s the natural place to start. MARTIN: Well, I’m not! I’ll come and tell them this evening. DOUGLAS: Ooh, full moon! MARTIN: Stop it! CAROLYN: Arthur? Where have you been? I told you to meet me in the cabin half an hour ago. ARTHUR: Sorry mum, I’ve been – I’ve been to the dentist. CAROLYN: Oh, have you? ARTHUR: Yes, I have. He said I’d been brushing really well but to watch out for my gums. CAROLYN: Right...so no real change since last week then, when I took you? ARTHUR: Oh yeah. CAROLYN: Leave the lying to Douglas, dear – he’s the professional. So, it’s a normal flight. I’m the passengers. You’re you. Off we go. ARTHUR:...
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