Reggie is feeling unwell and decides to see Sunshine Desserts' randy old medical officer, Doc Morrissey. Reggie knocks at the door, disturbing the Doc who is looking at an adult magazine. 

Doc:
Come In. Ah, Reg. Do sit down. 

Reggie:
Hello, Doc. 

Doc:
Has that secretary of yours got any more chest trouble? 

Reggie:
No. 

Doc:
Oh, pity. 

Reggie:
It's about me, actually. 

Doc:
You could always open a window so she sits in a draft. 

Reggie:
Yes, yes. No, I've been feeling rather odd, Doc. My legs are heavy, I keep shivering. Don't exactly feel ill though 

Doc:
Do you find you can't concentrate? 

Reggie:
(Mind has wandered). Sorry, what? 

Doc:
Can't concentrate? Having headaches at all? (He puts a thermometer in Reggie's mouth).

Reggie:
(Takes thermometer out to reply). Yes, I ... 

Doc:
Don't take the thermometer out of your mouth. (Reggie replaces it). Been sleeping well? 

Reggie:
(Mumbling with thermometer in mouth) No, I... 

Doc:
Don't talk with the thermometer in your mouth. (Reggie removes it). Don't take the thermometer out of your mouth. (Reggie replaces it).How's that boy of yours? How's his acting coming along? (Reggie gives a thumbs-down). He should stick to the amateur stuff like his father. Yours was the finest Othello I've ever seen. Definitive. Albert Finney couldn't have done better. The best Othello the Sunshine Desserts Strollers have ever had. Pity Edna Meddes from Despatch made such an adenoidal Desdemona. What's your boy's name again? Oh, it's er (Reggie mimes marking papers). Cross-tick? 

Reggie:
(Mumbles) No, Mark. 

Doc:
Oh Mark, that's right, yes. How's your girl, Linda isn't it? (Reggie mimes putting on weight). Oh, pregnant again? (Reggie expands on his mime). Oh, running to fat. Are your bowel movements up to scratch? (Reggie mimes sleeping, then pulling the toilet chain). Wetting the bed?!!! (Reggie mimes pointing at his watch). Oh, you go first thing in the morning. Yes of course. Where are we going for our holidays this year? (Reggie mimes something large).Elephant hunting?! (Doc removes the thermometer from Reggie's mouth).

Reggie:
No, Wales. 

Doc:
Could you just stand up and open your shirt? (Reggie does so, and Doc puts his stethoscope on his chest). Had any dreams about naked sportswomen? 

Reggie:
As a matter of fact I have. Only last night, I dreamed I was watching the Wightman Cup at Wimbledon. Everyone was naked. Even the line judges. 

Doc:
Who won? 

Reggie:
To be honest I didn't much bother with the scores. I think it was the ones with the very big, er, first serves. 

Doc:
I say, your ticker's racing like the clappers. Not surprising, really. (Doc sits down). Do you find you can't finish the crossword like you used to, nasty taste in the mouth in the mornings, can't stop thinking about sex, can't start doing anything about sex, wake up with a sweat in the mornings, keep falling asleep during 'Play For Today'? 

Reggie:
That's extraordinary, Doc! That's exactly how I've been feeling. 

Doc:
So have I. I wonder what it is? Take two aspirins. 

Watch video

Ice cream tasting

Series One - Episode One:

Reggie, C.J., Tony, David, Joan, lorry driver Ron Napier and a few other people are gathered in Reggie's office for a tasting session to determine the three most popular flavours for the launch of the new Exotic Ices project. 

David:
This mulberry and  quince is super! 

Reggie:
Write it all down. 

Ron:
This lime's bleedin' diabolical! 

Reggie:
Write it all down. Yes, well if you've all finished, ladies and gentlemen, Tony here will collect your cards, and we'll have the verdict from the computer before you can say 'prune and pumpkin neapolitan'. 

David:
It's almost as exciting as the Eurovision song contest! 

C.J.:
(Beckoning Reggie) You have left undone those things that ought to have been done up! (Reggie does up his fly).

Reggie:
(Embarrassed) That's a nice dress, Joan. Is it new? 

Joan:
You asked me that this morning! 

Reggie:
Oh, yes. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your efforts. You have been helping to launch a new sales campaign that can lift Sunshine Desserts out of the bad times that... 

C.J.:
What 'bad times' ?!!!!! 

Reggie:
Sorry C.J., slip of the tongue. ...help lift Sunshine Desserts out of the marvellous times into the even more marvellous times to come. (Reggie looks ill).

C.J.:
You feeling alright? 

Reggie:
I'm fine, C.J. I'm just not awfully keen on ice creams. 

C.J.:
What? (Tony returns with the computer printout).

Tony:
Yes, well, er, I've got the results from the computer. 

C.J.:
What?! Two minutes. What about that, eh! (He flicks the back of his hand at Reggie's stomach. Reggie grimaces).

Reggie:
The miracle of modern technology. (He is handed the printout). Right, we will begin our sales campaign, and the three most popular flavours we will start with are: bookends, pumice stone and West Germany.  What? 

Tony:
There's been an electrical fault. 

Reggie:
(Despairingly) Oh, you amaze me. 

C.J.:
This is no good, Perrin. I didn't get where I am today selling ice creams tasting of bookends, pumice stone and West Germany! 

Reggie:
Of course you didn't C.J. There's obviously been some kind of... (Reggie rushes off to be sick).

Today will be different!

Series One - Episode One:

It is Thursday morning. Reggie has finished breakfast and is ready to go to work.He decides that today will be different from the previous twenty-five years worth of todays. 

Elizabeth:
(Reggie is staring into space) You'll miss the train. 

Reggie:
Yes. 

Elizabeth:
You'll be late. 

Reggie:
Yes. (He finally gets up). Well, let's see what the day brings forth! (He walks to the hallway).

Elizabeth:
There you are. Umbrella. 

Reggie:
Thank you, darling. 

Elizabeth:
Briefcase. 

Reggie:
Thank you, darling. (He opens the front door to leave).

Elizabeth:
Wait! There's a piece of yellow fluff on your seat! 

Reggie:
Oh my God!!! It's lucky you noticed that! I can see the headlines now: 'New Scandal Rocks Jittery City. Food Firm Executive Found With Yellow Fluff On Backside. 'Don't Panic' Urges Chancellor'. 

Elizabeth:
There's no need to be so sarcastic. 

Reggie:
Well, what does it matter, darling? What does any of it matter? I mean, why shouldn't I go to work on roller skates, wearing a balaclava helmet, a kilt and a pair of 'long johns', if it comes to it? 

Elizabeth:
Reggie? Are you feeling alright? 

Reggie:
Never felt righter! 

Elizabeth:
Well, have a good day at the office. 

Reggie:
Do you know, I just very well might. (He kisses his wife and leaves the house with a spring in his step).

Exotic Ices marketing meeting

Series One - Episode One:

Tony Webster, Morris Coates from an advertising company and Esther Pigeon from market research are waiting for Reggie to arrive. 

Joan:
Can't think what's kept him! He's never more than eleven minutes late. (Reggie enters).

Reggie:
Morning Joan. I caught a later train because the sun was shining. It was eleven minutes late - 'seasonal manpower shortages, Clapham Junction'. 

Joan:
I'll leave you all to it. 

Reggie:
Right Joan, thank you. What's this, a fashion show? 

Morris:
I'm Morris Coates, Crumley Advertising. 

Reggie:
(Shakes his hand). Reginald Perrin. Where's David? 

Tony:
He's ill in bed with stomach troubles, from eating thirty-six ice creams. 

Reggie:
Good. Well, this meeting is, as you know, to discuss the advertising and sales campaign to promote our new range of Exotic Ices. We had a tasting yesterday and the computer, in its wisdom, decided the three most popular flavours were bookends, pumice stone and West Germany. 

Morris:
Yes, I'd heard. 

Reggie:
Yes, well the correct result achieved without the aid of the computer was: mango delight, fig surprise and strawberry and lychee ripple. 

Tony:
Great! 

Reggie:
There will be two new sales areas. David will be in charge of Hertfordshire, and Tony here will be in control of East Lancashire. 

Tony:
Great! 

Reggie:
Would you be kind enough to give us your market report, Miss Pigeon? 

Esther:
Yes. 71% of housewives in East Lancashire and 81% in Hertfordshire expressed an interest in the concept of exotic ice-creams. Only 8% in Hertfordshire and 14% in Lancashire expressed positive hostility, whilst 5% expressed latent hostility. In Hertfordshire, 96% of the 50% who formed 20% of consumer spending were in favour. 0.6% told us where we could put our exotic ice creams.

Reggie:
(After staring into space). I'm sorry, I missed that. I was watching the dust in the rays of the sun. See? Rather pretty.

Morris:
Well I don't know what sort of advertising campaign you wanted, but I was just thinking, off the top of the head: Beautiful girl, yoga position, which let's face it can be a very sexy position. Something like, off the top of the head, "I find it much easier to meditate with a fig surprise ice cream. One of the new range of Exotic Ices from Sunshine"?

Reggie:
Ludicrous!

Morris:
Well I'm just exploring angles. We'll have a whole team on this, I'm just sounding things out. What about sex?

Reggie:
It's great fun!

Morris:
No, I mean what sort of a sex angle are we going for?

Reggie:
I don't know. How about something like, just off the top of my head of course: "I like to stroke my nipple with strawberry and lychee ripple"?

Morris:
Fair enough. Sex is a bum steer. Incidentally, (he turns to Tony) is the concept of a 'ripple' in the ice cream sense of the word fully understood by the public?

Tony:
(Looking blank, and turning to Esther). Is it?

Esther:
Oh, in the Forest of Dean in 1967, 97.3% of housewives understood the concept of 'a ripple' in the ice cream sense of the word.

Reggie:
(Miles away) I can't be bothered with all this. Life's too short. (Click link to hear Reggie). (Turns to Morris) We'll be in 
touch then?

Morris:
Yes. Well, goodbye.

Esther:
This is a major breakthrough in the field of quality desserts!

Reggie:
(Uninterested) Good. (They leave).

Tony:
I must say I admired the way you handled Morris and his third-rate ideas.

Reggie:
Great!

Tony:
See you in the pub for lunch as usual?

Reggie:
Pub? Thursdays? Cottage pie and beans? Elbow jogged by that electronics crowd? Warm beer all down my crotch? No, you will not see me in the pub for lunch as usual. I am fed up wih lunch in the pub as usual. I shall dine today very much not as usual.

He has dinner in an Italian restaurant, ordering three courses of ravioli.

Coffee break

Series One - Episode Two:

The tea lady cometh. But all is not rosy on the trolley.

Mrs. Peaslake:
(In the corridor) Trolley!

Reggie:
Ah, coffee break. What do you want Joan?

Joan:
It's my turn. You did it yesterday.

Reggie:
Yes, well I'll do it again today!

Joan:
Oh, alright. Just a coffee, then.

Reggie:
(opens door for tealady) Ah, Mrs. Peaslake. Come in, come in. Two coffees please. Two cream horns. Two pieces of Battenburg.

Joan:
Oh, no. Please!

Reggie:
Oh, I'm sorry. Four cream horns, six digestive biscuits and eight slices of Battenburg.

Mrs. Peaslake:
Oh, make up your minds!

Joan:
I don't want anything to eat, Mr. Perrin.

Reggie:
I want you to have them. I want to give them to you. Take them home with you. Mrs. Peaslake, I'll take the lot.

Mrs. Peaslake:
What, all the cakes?

Reggie:
Yes, biscuits, the cake. The lot.

Mrs. Peaslake:
Well, you can't! I'll have nothing left for the Crumbles Department, nothing left for Flans or Accounts...

Reggie:
Let them eat bread!

Mrs. Peaslake:
Well, you can't have the last piece of Battenburg, that's spoken for.

Reggie: 
I'm sorry, 'spoken for'? Who by?

Mrs. Peaslake:
Mr. Norris from Crumbles. Always has a piece of Battenburg of a Friday. Mind you, he cuts the marzipan off and gives that to Deirdre with the wart.

Reggie:
I'm awfully sorry Mrs. Peaslake, but ordering is not allowed! You may remember, in 1971, I asked you to reserve me a macaroon. You refused.

Mrs. Peaslake:
Well, it's not exactly 'ordered'. It's more of a 'gentleman's agreement'.

Reggie:
I'm sorry, Mrs. Peaslake, I'm not a petty man, but if Mr. Battenburg can have his Norris, I don't see why I shouldn't have had my macaroon!

Joan:
Please! I don't want any anyway.

Reggie:
I'm sorry! Here is a fiver. Keep the change.

Mrs. Peaslake:
Oh. Thank you.

Reggie:
Thank you.

Mrs. Peaslake:
I'll get you a nice box for them.

Reggie:
Wonderful.

Mrs. Peaslake:
And you can reserve a macaroon any time you like!

Reggie:
Can't wait! (Mrs. Peaslake leaves). There you are!

Joan:
I don't even like cake!

Reggie:
Oh, go on. Live a little. (He picks up a piece and fantasises him feeding cake to Joan romantically).

Reggie asks C.J. for a holiday

Series One - Episode Two:

Reggie is determined to have four weeks holiday. 

Joan:
Mr. Perrin. I've worked for you for eight years. Do you mind if I say something?

Reggie:
Sounds rather ominous, Joan. What is it?

Joan:
I think you need a holiday.

Reggie:
God! Everybody seems to think I need a holiday! "Good Evening, here is the nine o'clock news. Today Russia invaded China, Richard Burton married Elizabeth Taylor for the seventh time, and in the Commons the Prime Minister told the House Reginald I. Perrin was in need of a holiday". God! You see, I need a holiday.

Joan: 
Well go in and ask C.J.

Reggie:
Yes, I damn well will. Get him for me would you? Tell him I want to see him immediately.

Joan:
(calls C.J.) C.J.? Mr .Perrin for you.

Reggie:
C.J.? Perrin here. I... Yes, C.J. Certainly C.J.(Puts down the phone). He wants to see me.

C.J.: (Reggie has knocked on his office door) One, two, three, four - make 'em sweat outside the door. Five, six, seven, eight - always pays to make 'em wait. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve - Come! (Reggie enters) Ah, Reggie. Sit down.

Reggie:
Funnily enough, C.J., I wanted to see you...

C.J.:
I'll come straight to the point. I didn't get where I am today by waffling. Never use two words where one would do, that's my motto, that's my axiom. That's the way I look at things.

Reggie:
Yes. I was wondering, C.J., while I was here...

C.J.:
Would it surprise you to learn, Reggie, that overall sales in April, across the spectrum were down 0.1%?

Reggie: 
Not particularly, C.J. Partly...

C.J.:
I don't say to you, "Reggie, pull your socks up". I say to you that overall sales in April across the spectrum were down 0.1%. I leave you to draw your own conclusions. And pull your socks up.

Reggie:
Yes. While I'm here C.J....

C.J.:
I didn't get where I am today without learning how to handle people.

Reggie:
Yes, C.J.

C.J.: 
I give them a warning shot across the bows. But I don't let them realise I'm giving them a warning shot across the bows.

Reggie:
Yes, C.J.

C.J.:
Not that I want to be entirely surrounded by 'Yes' men.

Reggie:
No, C.J.

C.J.:
So I say to you: go full steam ahead on this Exotic Ices project. I want reports daily.

Reggie:
Yes, C.J.

C.J.:
Daily!!!

Reggie:
Certainly, C.J. It's all well in hand.

C.J.:
(After a pause) Well? What do you want to see me about?

Reggie:
(Steels himself out loud) Be masterful!

C.J.:
What?!!! What is it?

Reggie:
I want a holiday, C.J. I Want a holiday, and I want it now.

C.J.:
Do...you...now?!

Reggie:
Yes, C.J. I must ask for at least four... four.... certainly not less than three... days. (Panics) This is a bad time to ask, you can't spare me. Yes, I quite understand. I just thought, while I was here... Long weekend? No, out of the question... well thank you anyway, C.J. (Reggie gets up to leave).

C.J.:
Sit down! You're on edge. You need a holiday.

Reggie:
Yes, that's why I asked you for one.

C.J.:
Impossible. I tell you what I'll do though - I'll compromise. I didn't get where I am today without learning how to compromise. Take the afternoon off.

Reggie:
Thank you, C.J.!

C.J.:
I don't know what you do at the weekends, Reggie, but take your wife into the country. Just the two of you. You'll return a different man. That's what Mrs. C.J. and I do, and we return different men!

Reggie:
Thank you, C.J. I will C.J.(Reggie gets up to leave).

C.J.:
Reggie? Middle age can be a difficult time. Not that we're one of those dreadful firms that squeeze a man dry and then abandon him. We value experience too highly. Goodbye, Reggie.

The Safari Park

Series One - Episode Two:

Tom and Linda promised to take their children Adam and Jocasta to the Safari Park on Saturday, but Tom has crashed their car. Reggie and Elizabeth offer to drive them round instead. Tom and Linda are in the back of the Perrin's Ford Cortina, holding the two kids. Reggie would rather be somewhere else - anywhere else! 

Elizabeth:
Look! Yak! 

Reggie:
Hmm. There isn't much to say about a yak. Isn't it marvellous? The cars are all moving round in herds, and all the animals are parked. 

Jocasta:
What's that, Daddy? 

Tom:
A waste-paper basket. 

Elizabeth:
(A herd of zebra cross their path) Look! 'Zebra Crossing'! 

Reggie:
Ho ho. 

Jocasta:
What's that?! 

Reggie:
A starling. (He stops the car).

Elizabeth:
Why have we stopped? 

Reggie:
Because I'm hot. It's like a Turkish bath in here. 

Tom:
You're not supposed to. It's dangerous. 

Reggie:
(Winding down window) What did you and Linda have to eat yesterday? 

Linda:
Squid with garlic. Why? 

Reggie:
Just wondered (winds window down further).

Linda:
(reads from signpost) 'You are approaching lion country. Close all windows'. 

Reggie:
Ah, so we could have had the windows open. 

Tom:
Sorry. 

Linda:
(continuing to read) 'If in trouble, blow your horn and wait for the white hunter'.(To the children) Lions soon! 

Adam:
Why are lions? 

Linda:
Why are lions what? 

Adam:
Why are lions lions? 

Linda:
Because they come from other lions. 

Adam:
Why aren't lions ants? 

Tom:
Because they don't come from ants' eggs. 

Adam:
Why am I me? 

Reggie:
OH, SHUT UP! 

Linda:
Dad, please! I must ask you not to talk like that. 

Adam:
I done biggies! (The car screeches to a halt).

Elizabeth:
That is not the right way to say it, Adam. It's "I've done biggies". 

Linda:
Let them talk the way they want to, Mum. 

Elizabeth:
Well, they should be able to speak correctly. They might want jobs with the BBC one day. 

Reggie:
Yes, and all the BBC newsreaders say "I've done biggies". 

Tom: 
It's just that we like our own way of bringing them up. We treat them, not as children, but as tiny adults. 

Reggie:
Oh, shut up, you bearded prig. 

Elizabeth:
Reggie! 

Linda:
No, Mum. If Dad feels like that, he should get it off his chest. 

Tom:
Sorry, but why am I a 'bearded prig'? 

Reggie:
(shouting) You really wanna know? 

Tom:
Yes. 

Reggie:
Because you have a bright red, open-plan -finish playpen, you put supposedly- witty house adverts in the Cookham and Thames Ditton Chronicle, you brew your own parsnip and nettle wine, you smoke revolting briar pipes, you put a gothic stone folly in your garden, you called your children Adam and Jocasta, and made them eat garlic bread the minute they were off the breast. Alright? 

Tom:
I see. Thank you. 

Watch video

Reggie:
Not at all. 

Elizabeth:
Move on, darling. 

Reggie:
I'm not moving on till you start enjoying yourselves. Alright, it's a failure. Everything I plan is a failure, but we're here now, and I'm not moving on till you bloody well start enjoying yourselves. (The car behind hoots. Reggie opens his door). SHUT...UP! 

Elizabeth:
Reggie, please. Stop making a spectacle of ourselves. 

Reggie:
Oh yes, you hate that don't you? (The car is still hooting. Reggie sticks his two fingers up at them).

Linda:
Dad, please. Not in front of the children. 

Reggie:
They're not children, they're tiny adults. 

Linda:
Well, not in front of the tiny adults, then! 

Elizabeth:
Please, darling. Move on! 

Reggie:
I'm not, till you start enjoying yourselves. (They all look at one another).

Linda:
We ARE enjoying ourselves! 

Tom:
It's a marvellous outing! 

Reggie:
Oh, all right (The car refuses to start). Blast! Bloody thing! I hate cars, I hate bloody machines! (The car starts, and they move off).

Adam: 
I done poopie-plops in my panties! 

Elizabeth:
It's "I've done poopie-plops in my panties". 

Tom: 
Yes, Adam. I wonder if you think that was a good idea? It's going to get a bit uncomfortable for you later on, you know. 

Reggie:
Not just for him! This was supposed to be an outing. 

Tom:
On reflection, I don't think the safari park was a good idea. 

Reggie:
Oh thank you. That's very helpful. It's hardly started yet. We've got the monkeys on the roof to come yet, rubbing themselves against the aerial, doing their poopie-plops all over my windscreen. 

Elizabeth:
(They have stopped to look at a pride of lions) Ooh, look! Look at the nice lions! 

Tom:
Please don't say that. Lions aren't nice. We want them to grow up to see reality as it is. 

Reggie:
Ah, but is it? 

Tom:
Is it what? 

Reggie:
Is reality as it is? 

Tom:
Well, of course it is. 

Linda:
Don't be absurd, Dad. (The car stalls, and steam comes from under the bonnet).

Tom:
It's overheated. 

Reggie:
Thank you, Stirling Moss. Tch, I've seen livelier lions in Trafalgar Square! Lions that won't move, cars that won't start. Oh to hell with it, I'm going out. 

Tom:
Is that altogether wise? 

Reggie:
Look, the animals are all probably doped anyway, and in any case I'm going out, alright? To a world blessedly free of garlic, and sweat, and poopie- plops. And if you don't like it you can stick it in your pipe, stick a clove of garlic up your... and drown in your own nettle wine, alright?!!! (Reggie gets out and faces the lions).

Elizabeth:
Reggie! Come back! (The lions stand and start to charge him. A ranger shoots the nearest lion. Reggie races back to the car).

Reggie:
I'm sorry. 

Elizabeth:
It's alright. I understand. 

Reggie: I don't WANT you to understand. 

Elizabeth:
I know how you feel. I understand. 

Reggie:
(At the top of his voice) OHHH GODDDDD !!!!!! 

Back to top of page
 

With a Sunday due to be spent at his mother-in-law's, Reggie makes an excuse to stay home, and invites his secretary Joan Greengross over for an affair. But things don't quite go according to plan. 

Reggie:
(Answering front door) Hello, Joan. Come in. 

Joan:
Hello, Mr. Perrin. 

Reggie:
Won't you sit down? 

Joan:
(she sits) What's all this crisis about? 

Reggie:
Oh, you'll soon see. Would you like a sherry? Just a little one before we go upstairs? 

Joan:
Upstairs? 

Reggie:
Er, hot, isn't it? 

Joan:
Oh, very. 

Reggie:
Yes, a hot Sunday in summer. 

Joan:
I don't know what all this is about, but I have come twenty miles. Can't we get straight down to it? 

Reggie:
Yes, we'll get, er, we'll get straight down to it in a minute (the phone rings). Excuse me. Hello? Oh, hello darling. Yes I'm getting along alright. No, I haven't had my dinner yet. Yes, of course. The pickle's on the shelf where you keep the pickle, in the jar marked 'pickle jar'. No, I'm not angry, I just happen... No, you're not interrupting anything... No, it's not a bad time to ring... Goodbye darling. (he puts down the phone). That was my wife. 

Joan:
So I gathered. 

Reggie:
She's away for the day. The whole day. She's gone to visit the hippopotamus, er, her mother-in-law. She resembles a hippopotamus. Not Elizabeth, her mother. Elizabeth doesn't resemble a hippopotamus. More sherry? 

Joan:
No thank you. 

Reggie:
Certainly. (he refills her glass). Well this is nice Joan (he sits next to her). Hot, isn't it? 

Joan:
Well, it hasn't got a lot hotter in the last minute. 

Reggie: 
Yes, I'd noticed that. Yes, I prefer the heat to the cold, I find it much, er... 

Joan:
Warmer? 

Reggie:
Yes, warmer. Yes. 

Joan:
What is this crisis all about, Mr. Perrin? 

Reggie:
There is no crisis, Joan (he kisses her on the lips). I'm sorry. Sorry, terribly sorry. I shouldn't have done that. 

Joan:
Oh, Reggie! (she kisses him all over his face). Why now, Reggie? Why, after all these years? 

Reggie:
It suddenly seemed such a waste. (She pushes him back on the sofa. The phone starts to ring). 

Joan:
Don't answer it! 

Reggie:
No, to hell with it. No, I better had, it might be somebody (he answers the phone). Hello? Hello, darling. No, I don't think I rang off abruptly. (Joan caresses his body while he speaks). No, I haven't been working too hard. No, I don't think I sounded odd. Yes, I should be having it quite soon, I think. No, of course I haven't forgotten to ask about your mother. How's your mother? Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. Well give my mother your... your mother my best regards. Goodbye, darling. (he hangs up). My wife again. When I kissed you, I thought you'd be... 

Joan:
Outraged? Scream the house down? Oh no, I've dreamed of this for eight years! 

Reggie:
Good lord! Have you really? Good lord! 

Joan:
What a lovely house this is (Joan leads him out of the room). I bet there's a lovely view from upstairs. 

Reggie:
Yes, I bet there is! I mean, er, I think the view would be best.. from the...spare bedroom (they go upstairs). 

Reggie: 
(Joan lies on the bed, Reggie turns the picture of the queen to the wall) I think the view would be better from over here... (she gets up and kisses him) Thank you. (She opens the top buttons of her dress). Oh, those are jolly nice buttons, Joan. 

Joan:
Yes, they undo very easily. (she places his hand on her buttons). 

Reggie:
Oh, yes, so they do. (She starts unbuttoning his shirt). My buttons undo very easily too. 

Joan:
Yes, they do. 

Reggie:
British buttons are pretty good on the whole, aren't they? I think this wallpaper looks nice, don't you?  (He is having second thoughts, and thinks to himself 'I can't go through with this') No, I'm sorry I can't. 

Joan:
You can't what? 

Reggie:
I can't go... I can't... I can't remember where we got the wallpaper. 

Joan:
Oh come on, Reggie. Never mind about the wallpaper (she leads him over to the bed. The doorbell rings. Reggie is relieved). 

Reggie:
Oh damn. Oh dear, what a shame (he hastily buttons up his shirt). Damn, damn, damn. 

Joan:
You don't have to answer it. 

Reggie:
No, but I better had, it might be somebody. (He goes downstairs and opens the front door. It is Reggie's son). Oh, hello Mark. 

Mark:
Hello, pater, me old dolly. Not interrupting anything am I? 

Reggie:
No, no. I was just having forty... forty winks. Oh I see you've joined the bearded wonder brigade. 

Mark:
Yeah. Phew, it's 'ot, 'innit? 

Reggie:
Yes. Want a beer? 

Mark:
Oh thanks Dad. Oh, I see you've got another of Doctor Snurd's pictures of the Algarve. 

Reggie:
Yes, Albufeira. Do you like it? 

Mark:
Nah, ruddy awful. Why are all your pictures painted by your dentist? 

Reggie:
Well I keep buying them in case he stops giving me injections. 

Mark:
That reminds me, I need my 'Teds' seeing to. 

Reggie:
'Teds'? 

Mark:
Ted? Ted Heath? Teeth? 

Reggie:
Oh yes. I can't keep up with all this rhyming slang. 

Mark:
No, well it's not all the gen, 'Chitty Chitty'. 

Reggie:
'Chitty Chitty'? 

Mark:
Chitty Chitty? Bang Bang? Rhyming slang? 

Reggie:
Oh. Your mother's gone to Worthing to see the hippopot.. the granny. 

Mark:
Well it's a good job. I know what she'd say if she was 'ere: "Peter Hall won't want you in the Royal Shakespeare Company with holes in your socks" (he lifts his foot revealing a holey sock). 

Reggie:
How is the acting going? 

Mark:
Oh, it's er... rotten. D'you know, the only job I've had in the last three months is that advert for fishfingers. Er, what are the two sherry glasses for? 

Reggie:
What?! Oh, they're for, er, they're for, er, for drinking sherry. My wife and I had a... that's your mother and I... had a sherry before she went to Worthing. 

Mark:
Oh that's good. I thought for a minute you were keeping a fancy woman upstairs! (he laughs). 

Reggie:
(He laughs nervously) That's a good one! No. How did you know your mother had gone to Worthing? 

Mark:
Oh, she rang yesterday. 

Reggie:
Oh I see. And asked you to come round to see if I was alright? 

Mark:
No, no, nothing like that. I just thought I'd drop in, to see how you were. 

Reggie:
Only normally you 'drop in' just to borrow 
some money. 

Mark:
Oh well now you mention it, I am a bit borassic at the moment. Borassic? Borassic lint? Skint? I could use a tenner, if er... 

Reggie:
You know, you might find it easier to earn a living if you were a bit more presentable. I mean, I'm broad minded (he looks towards the hall and Joan upstairs), but I can think of more appropriate garb for a Sunday than jeans and a T-shirt with "Wedgwood Benn For Pope". 

Mark:
Yeah, point taken. Tell you what. I'll pop up to the spare room, I've got some old clothes in the wardrobe, alright? 

Reggie:
Ye... NO!!!! You can't go up there, I've got some, er, secret papers up there. It's a new product we're bringing out, a breakthrough in non-wobble jelly. It's all fairly hush-hush. 

Mark:
What do you think I am, an industrial spy? 

Reggie:
No, of course not. Why don't you go into the kitchen and get us some grub. There's cold aspirin and medicine in the fridge. (Mark heads for the kitchen, Reggie races upstairs).

Joan:
(She appears from under the bedclothes in her underwear). Hello! 

Reggie:
Hello, hello. It's my son Mark. I can't just throw him out. 

Joan:
Oh, I suppose not. Oh hell, this is really getting me in the mood! 

Reggie:
I'll get rid of him in a minute. Do you think we ought to call it a day? 

Joan:
Do you want to? 

Reggie:
No, I don't want to. I thought you might want to. 

Joan:
No! I don't want to. 

Reggie:
Oh good. Good. Good. The only snag is, he wants to come in here to get some clothes, so I think perhaps you ought to go into Linda's room. 

Joan:
Oh, great! (She gets out of bed). 

Reggie:
(He ushers her out of the room). I am sorry. (He turns the queen's picture over) I am sorry. (He goes back downstairs) That's alright, Mark, you can come up now. 

Mark:
No, I've just remembered. I gave them to the Young Trotskyists jumble sale. 

Reggie:
Oh, I've gone and moved my jellies for nothing then, oh well. 

Mark:
Sorry, Dad. Oh, what about my twenty quid? 

Reggie:
I thought you said ten? 

Mark:
Well you wouldn't refuse your own 'dustbin', would you? 

Reggie:
'Dustbin'? 

Mark:
Dustbin lid. Kid. 

Reggie:
Oh. Don't forget you still owe me seventy pounds. 

Mark:
Do I?!!! Tell you what, if you make it thirty, I'll owe you the round hundred. It's easier to remember. 

Reggie:
(The doorbell rings again) Oh my God, who's that? There's another one. Well I don't care who it is, they're not coming in. (He answers the door). Oh it's you, Tom. 

Tom:
Yes, I know (He enters). 

Reggie:
Well? 

Tom:
Lindyplops asked me to call round.. 

Reggie:
...To see Elizabeth? She's gone to Worthing. 

Tom:
Yes I know. Oh, hello Mark. 

Mark:
Hello, four-eyes. Where's big sis? 

Tom:
Lindysquidge is tied up with the children. 

Mark:
Hot innit? 

Tom:
Yes. Very thirst-making. 

Reggie:
Oh. Want a beer, do you? 

Tom:
Oh, thank you very much. I'm not a heat person. I sweat very easily. 

Reggie:
Yes, I had noticed. 

Tom:
I have very open pores. Lindyswerps sweats very easily, too. She has very open pores. 

Mark:
I don't think the old man wants to hear about the perfect marriage of your open pores. 

Reggie:
No, there's nothing I'd like to hear less about. Except, perhaps, the digestive organs of the praying mantis. 

Tom:
Actually, the digestive organs of the praying mantis... 

Reggie:
Oh, my God. Incidentally, how did you and Linda know that Elizabeth had gone to Worthing? 

Tom:
Oh, she rang us, and happened to mention it. 

Reggie:
Oh, I see. So you thought you'd drop in here and see if I was alright, eh? 

Tom:
No, no, no, no, no. One of us thought we might pop round, and as one of us had to look after the children, we tossed for it. 

Reggie:
And you lost. 

Tom:
Hmmm. No, I won. We didn't like to think of you being lonely. (The doorbell rings yet again). 

Reggie:
Fat chance of that! Who's this?!!! (He goes to answer the door). 

Mark:
Your 'dustbins' alright, are they? 

Tom: 
Yes, they're a lot quieter than they used to be. 

Mark:
Well, they're older. 

Tom:
No, we've got new ones. They're plastic. (Jimmy enters). Oh, hello Major! 

Jimmy:
Hello, all. Where's my favourite neice? 

Tom:
Tied up with the children. 

Jimmy:
Oh, jolly good. Saw you on the idiot box last week, Mark. On the other side, which we don't watch. Just caught the end of it. You were all sitting down, smiling, eating fishfingers. Nice to see a play with a happy ending for a change. 

Mark:
Yeah, it was a nice play. A bit short, but interesting. 

Jimmy:
Well, I just happened to be passing. Thought I'd drop in. 

Reggie:
Hmmm. Elizabeth phoned you as well, did she? 

Jimmy:
Just... happened to phone. Didn't... mention you. I was just... passing. Now I'm here, wouldn't mind any free nosh that's going. Fact is, no beating about the bush, bit of a cock-up on the catering front. Kiddies yelling, distaff side in a tiswas, general hoo-hah. 

Reggie:
Hmmm. Drink, Jimmy? 

Jimmy:
Oh, not for me. Must rush, or I'll be in the doghouse. Whisky please. Working hard these days, Reggie. Busy time in the
pudding caper? 

Reggie: 
Pretty busy, Jimmy. Pretty busy. 

Jimmy:
Yes. Not working too hard, I hope. Don't want you going bonkers or kicking the bucket on us. Cheers! 

Reggie: 
Yes, well Elizabeth has obviously spoken to the whole family, so perhaps I ought to issue a bulletin: Reginald Iolanthe Perrin is as well as can be expected under the circumstances, alright? 

Tom:
I think I'll just pop up to Lindy's old room... 

Reggie:
No Tom! You can't. Er, why? 

Tom:
Well Lindypops and I were having a little bet that you can see the spire of St. Peter's church from her bedroom. I've got 50p on it that you can't. 

Reggie:
No, I'm sorry Tom. I've got some important blueprints up there, for my new non-stick jellies. 

Mark:
Non-wobble! 

Reggie:
Yes, non-stick and non-wobble. So perhaps you'll realise how important they are. Sorry, Tom. I know you're not an industrial spy like... Give our drinks another guest, Mark. (He goes back upstairs). 

Jimmy:
Worried about old Reggie. Overdoing it. Middle-age. Difficult time. Hinted as much. Tactfully as I could, you know. Fancy the thrust got home! 

Reggie:
(To Joan, who is naked in Linda's bed) I'm awfully sorry, we'll have to try another room. Tom wants to come in here. He and Linda have got a bet you can see the spire of St. Peter's church from this window. 

Joan:
Oh well, so long as it's a good reason! 

Reggie:
Oh, I am sorry. 

Joan:
If you say sorry once more, I shall hit you! 

Reggie:
Oh, I am sor.. Oh sorry. 

Joan:
Look, shall I go up into the loft, or is the borough surveyor coming round to look for dry rot? 

Reggie:
Perhaps on second thoughts you'd better go. I'll keep them busy downstairs while you slip away, yes? 

Joan:
Well, it'll take a minute or two. I've taken all my clothes off. 

Reggie:
Oh my God. And Jimmy's down there as well... Look, there's a drainpipe just here. You can climb down there, and onto the roof of the potting shed. It shouldn't be too difficult. And be careful when you get down because you've got to pass the window of the room we're all in. 

Joan:
Wonderful! The perfect end to a perfect day! 

Reggie:
I didn't plan it like this Joan! 

Joan: 
I should hope not! (Reggie goes back into the living room). 

Reggie:
Another drink for everybody? 

Tom: 
If the coast's clear, I'll go up. 

Reggie:
No, it's not quite clear, Tom. Look at this. I found some marvellous things in the attic yesterday while I was looking around. This is a wedding photo from the day I got married. 

Mark:
Who's the geezer with the boozer's conk? 

Reggie:
The 'geezer' as you call him is your Uncle, Percy Spillinger. He got very drunk at the reception. He was found two days later singing 'Scotland The Brave' on top of the church at East Grinstead. The chap next to him, with the sticking-out ears is Lance Corporal Sprocket. He was my best man (Reggie looks for Joan out of the window). Yes, he was easily the best... best man. Next to him of course is your grandmother. Budding resemblance to a hippopotamus already. Dreadful wedding, wasn't it Jimmy? Lance Corporal Sprocket made a terrible speech, I had a nosebleed and the wedding cake collapsed. (A clap of thunder breaks overhead). 

Jimmy:
Thunder! (He gets up and goes to the window. Reggie pulls him away). 

Reggie:
It's bad luck to look through the window. Look at this, this is er...  a stuffed trout I caught at my boss's place down in Hampshire. 

Tom:
I eat a lot of fish. I'm a fish person. 

Reggie:
(Tom goes towards the stairs. Reggie drags him back). You'd be more interested in this, Tom. This is, er, what is it, oh yes, this is an empty tube of Nurse Jenkins Wart Eradicator. 

Jimmy:
Awful wallahs, warts. Before you can say 'Jack Robinson', you're covered in the blighters. 

Tom:
I'd better look at that church before the storm breaks (He turns to leave. Jimmy walks towards the window). 

Reggie:
EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS! This'll really interest you. I used to play cricket when I was a kid, with dice. England v. my 'girls'. That's the girls I had a crush on at the time. England batted first, made 188 all out. Hutton 67, Edith Piaf 4 for 29. Here's the girls' reply: Fat receptionist at Margate - bowled Voce for 28. Cousin Andrea caught Leyland, bowled Larwood 2. Tall girl on the 8.21 not out, 92. Greta Garbo lbw bowled Voce and Norton. Went home then, had no more to do with it. Violet Bonham- Carter not out, 56. Girls won by five wickets. 

Tom:
I'm not a cricket person. 

Jimmy:
Interesting! Pity the tall girl on the 8.21 didn't get her ton. Might have done if Violet Bonham-Carter hadn't hit two sixes
off successive balls! 

Mark:
Well, I'm going for a 'bangers'. Bangers and mash - slash. (He goes upstairs). 

Tom:
I'll go and have a look at that church. (He follows Mark upstairs). 

Reggie:
(Jimmy goes to the window again) I wish you'd come away from the window, Jimmy. It's awfully bad luck. 

Jimmy:
I've known men go mad in this kind of weather. 

Reggie:
Really? 

Jimmy:
Yes. One very thundery weekend in Cyprus. Fella by the name of Bernstein. Taffy, we called him. Best shove halfpenny player in Famagusta. Very sound chap, very good mechanic. Suddenly went bonkers. Became convinced he was a forsythia bush. All protestations to no avail. Went off to the Jewish M.O. to get himself pruned. 

Reggie:
Well I'm not going bonkers, Jimmy. I can assure you of that. 

Jimmy:
Oh no. No. Wasn't hinting or anything. 

Reggie:
(Mark re-enters the room). Everything alright, Mark? 

Mark:
Oh, better out than in! 

Tom:
Couldn't see anything because of the storm. 

Reggie:
Oh dear. Nothing unusual in Linda's room then? 

Tom:
No, no. Why? 

Reggie:
No. Why should there be? Nothing untoward at all then? 

Jimmy:
(Shouts) Hey wait! A woman! Crawling through the shrubbery! See the bushy-topped tree, middle foreground? (Jimmy opens the window). Hey you! Stop! Come back! 

Reggie:
No, Jimmy. Shhh. It's alright. That's Mrs.... Drmdrm from the village. She's a bit, erm... We always let her crawl through our shrubbery. 

Dinner Party Without Food

Series One - Episode Four:

The Perrins are due to host a dinner party, but Elizabeth's mother is ill and she has decided to stay with her until she is better. She has told Reggie to cancel the dinner party, but Reggie decides to have a bit of fun instead. He invites C.J. and his wife, David Harris-Jones, busty Davina Letts- Wilkinson and Reggie's own forthright uncle, Percy Spillinger for a party with a twist. 

Reggie:
(Leading the guests into the living room) Ah, David, Davina, come on in. What a lovely dress, Davina. It shows off the best legs in the convenience foodstuffs industry. Do sit down, both of you. 

Davina:
What a gorgeous room! Your wife must be so clever. 

Reggie:
Yes, yes. Do help yourselves (there is a tray of twenty-plus drinks on the table). 

Davina:
Gorgeous! Er, How many people are coming? 

Reggie:
Er, five. 

David:
Super! This is welcome. C.J. gave me a grilling today. Who elseis coming? 

Reggie:
C.J. 

Davina:
Why didn't he tell me? Just like a man. This dress isn't C.J. at all.

David:
C.J.'s the last person in the world I want to see (C.J. enters). Hello C.J. Nice to see you. (Mrs. C.J. and Percy enter, followed by Reggie). 

Reggie:
Well, I think we're all here now. Let me introduce you: C.J., this is Mrs. C.J., oh yes, you two know each other. Davina Letts-Wilkinson, with cust..., er, from Custards, David Harris-Jones, and my uncle, Percy Spillinger, Abinger Hammer. 

Percy:
(turns angrily to C.J.) We met in the drive. He nearly knocked me down! (He spots Davina's breasts) I say!!! What a lovely pair!!!! 

Mrs. C.J.:
(Trying to change the subject) I like your pictures. Are they of Scotland? 

C.J.:
The Algarve! I didn't get where I am today without recognising the Algarve when I see it. 

Reggie:
Quite right, C.J. I bought them from my dentist. 

Percy:
I once bought six sets of false teeth from a Maletto greengrocer in Marrakesh. I thought I might meet a chap one day, lost his choppers, they'd be worth their weight in gold. 

Mrs. C.J.:
Well, this is nice, isn't it? 

C.J.:
Yes, looking forward to this, Reggie. No dinner today. 

Reggie: 
(under his breath) Yes, and no dinner tonight. (Out loud) Yes, I think the secret to a successful party is the right mix of people. I'm only sorry Elizabeth couldn't be here, her hippopotamus isn't well. 

Mrs. C.J.:
Oh dear. I know just how she feels. 

Reggie:
You've got one? I see. 

Mrs. C.J.:
I hate being ill - makes me feel so... ill. 

Percy:
(To Davina) I say, you haven't half got a sturdy pair of pins on you! Fancy walking through the hayfields with me? 

Mrs. C.J.:
I think the weather's looking up again. 

C.J.:
You're talking too much. 

Percy:
Mrs. Spillinger had pins like yours. We buried her at Ponder's End. 

Reggie:
Another drink, anybody? 

(Later, and David, Davina and Percy are all slightly drunk. Mr. and Mrs. C.J. feel out of place). 

Reggie:
Another Olive, Mrs. C.J.? 

Mrs. C.J.:
No thank you. I must leave room for what's to come. 

C.J.:
When it comes. 

Reggie:
If it comes. 

David:
These little mats are nice. There's some kind of a bird on mine. 

Davina:
Green woodpecker (She pretends to peck David's nose). 

Percy:
I once bought a stuffed woodpecker in Chipping Norton (Davina squeals with delight). 

Reggie:
I like a nice, relaxed get-together, don't you Mrs. C.J.? 

C.J.:
Golden eagle on my mat. 

Mrs. C.J.:
What's this on mine? 

Davina:
A hedge-sparrow. 

David:
You know a lot about birds, Davina. 

Davina:
I used to go out with an ornithologist. 

Percy:
Lucky fellow. He wouldn't need his binoculars to see your knockers. 

Mrs. C.J.:
What a lovely vase! 

C.J.:
There isn't a vase inthe room, woman. 

Reggie:
Well, as it was such a nice evening, I thought - the garden! 

C.J.:
Oh, the garden! Eating in the garden. Splendid idea, Reggie. (Reggie leads them out to an empty garden). Lovely garden, Reggie. Somebody's got green fingers. 

Reggie:
Yes, yes indeed. Well, shall we go into the dining room? 

C.J.:
The dining room at last! 

Reggie:
(He leads the party into the dining room, with an unlaid table). Well, here we are in the dining room. Thought you'd like to see it. 

Mrs. C.J.:
Very nice. What a nice table. 

David:
Super! 

Percy:
Well it certainly isn't supper! 

Reggie:
It isn't. There isn't any. I've invited you all round here and I'm not going to give you anything to eat. I think we live in a world where we're far too greedy, and there isn't enough food to go around. What you would have had this evening would have been liver pate, sole meuniere, guinea fowl in red wine, and lemon meringue pie.Instead, I'm going to send a cheque for £20 to Oxfam. Alright? 

Mrs. C.J.:
What a lovely gesture. 

Davina:
Gorgeous. 

Reggie:
And you will all have to invite me back, so you can send a cheque for £20 to Oxfam as well. Another drink, C.J.? 

C.J.:
I'd like a word, Reggie. 

David Harris-Jones and his underpants

Series One Episode Four:

At last night's dinner party, David Harris- Jones' trousers had, at some point in the evening, come down, revealing his underpants decorated with a picture of Beethoven. Percy Spillinger's suggestion that David was 'probably a poof' has set C.J. wondering. He decides to broach the subject, with Reggie present. The three men are gathered in C.J.'s office. 

Reggie:
(Knocks and enters) Morning,C.J. 

C.J.:
Morning Reggie. Sit down. 

Reggie:
(The chair farts). Sorry, C.J. I suppose I ought to apologise for last night. 

C.J.:
Nonsense. You had a point, even if you had an odd way of making it. I am human, you know. 

Reggie:
(He pictures C.J. wearing rabbit ears, and furry paws).Yes, very human. 

C.J.:
But I'm also old-fashioned, Reggie. I like my employees to have moral standards. For example, I didn't like that dress the Letts-Wilkinson woman was almost wearing last night. That kind of thing encourages hanky-panky. We aren't one of those dreadful firms where people can engage willy- nilly in hanky-panky with their secretaries. 

Reggie:
Certainly not, C.J. (he thinks of his affair with Joan). 

C.J.:
Neither Mrs. C.J. nor I have ever engaged willy- nilly in hanky-panky with their secretaries. 

Reggie:
I imagine not, C.J. 

C.J.:
(He stands, and walks round to face Reggie) And I'm worried bout Harris-Jones and his fancy underpants. (He presses his intercom). Send him in please, Marion. (To Reggie). Do you think he's a pansy, Reggie? Never felt any stray hands round your nether regions? 

Reggie:
Certainly not, C.J. 

C.J.:
(David knocks an enters). Ah, there you are. Come on, in, sit down. 

David:
Thank you, C.J. 

C.J.:
Cigar? 

David:
No thank you C.J. I don't smoke cigars. 

C.J.:
Ah-ha. Girlfriend doesn't like them, eh? 

David:
I don't have a girlfriend, C... (C.J. slams the lid of his cigar box shut). 

C.J.:
You went to a boarding school, didn't you? 

David:
Yes, C.J. 

C.J.:
I wonder if you're cut out for this kind of life, David. Perhaps you'd be better off running a boutique, or a wine bar, or a hairdressing salon. There are plenty of opportunities open for the gifted homosexual. 

David:
(Stands in anger) How dare you suggest that I'm a homoexual!!! 

C.J.:
Sit down!!! 

David:
Yes, C.J. (The chair farts) Sorry, C.J. 

C.J.:
Why does the suggestion that you're a homosexual annoy you so much? 

David:
I've nothing against homosexuals. In fact some of my best friends... No!!! It's just that.. I'm not one. 

C.J.:
Reggie? Perhaps you'd like to deal with the rest of this? 

Reggie:
Er, yes C.J. David, what C.J. is wondering... and he does have a point. 

C.J.:
What ?!!!!! 

Reggie:
What? Oh, er, what C.J. is wondering, David, is whether it is right for an executive of this firm to wear underpants decorated with the face of Ludwig Van Beethoven. 

C.J.:
Exactly. I didn't get where I am today wearing underpants decorated with Beethoven. 

David:
I'd have thought a man's underpants were his own affair! 

C.J.:
Oh, you would, would you? Well, we'll see Webster's (Presses the intercom) Send Webster in for me. 

Reggie:
You see, David, what C.J. feels is that, although it is generally held that an Englishman's underpants are his castle, and that under our constitution they are deemed suitable, and innocent until proved guilty, there could be occasions - in a traffic accident for example, or a sex orgy at a bugged hotel in Omsk - where that might not be so. 

C.J.:
(Tony knocks his door) Come! Tony! Reggie would like a word with you. 

Reggie:
I would like a word with you? Oh yes, er, what would you say if I asked you to show me your underpants? 

Tony:
I'd assume there's a good reason for it. 

Reggie:
Would you mind showing us your underpants, then? 

Tony:
Not at all (He undoes his trousers and takes them down to his knees). 

C.J.:
Plain blue, excellent choice. Splash of colour, not inconsistent with executive dignity. 

Tony:
Great! (He pulls his trousers back up). 

C.J.:
Well? 

David:
Oh, alright. I admire Beethoven. I was in Bonn. They were 73% terylene and reduced. 

C.J.:
There's nothing more to be said. Thank you, gentlemen. (They leave).

After seeing him briefly the previous day, Reggie has remembered where he had seen the German sales rep Mr. Campbell- Lewiston. He is due in for a meeting with Reggie, and Reggie decides to get his own back. 

Joan:
It's 4.30, Mr. Perrin. 

Reggie:
Well? 

Joan:
Don't forget, you're seeing Mr. Campbell- Lewiston then. 

Reggie:
Oh yes! Remember I said I'd seen him somewhere before? Yes, we were at school together. Little pig bit me in the changing room. (He knocks the door) Come in! Ah, Campbell- Lewiston, come in, come in. Some coffee, Joan? 

Joan:
Yes, Mr. Perrin. 

Reggie:
Do sit down, Campbell- Lewiston, you little twit. 

C-L:
What?!!! 

Reggie:
Well how are things in Germany? 

C-L:
Well we're beginning to make headway. Some of our mousses are holding their own in the Rhennish Palatinate, and flans are heating up in Schleswig-Holstein. 

Reggie:
Oh good, I might be able to get a bit of sleep now I know that! (he laughs). What a stupid face! And what about the powdered Bakewell tart mix? Still selling like hot cakes, is it? 

C-L:
Oh, well, not too well I'm afr... oh 'hot cakes', very good (he laughs). 

Reggie:
And the treacle pudding? Proving sticky is it? 

C-L:
Treacle pudding, sticky! Very good. You're a bit of a wag. 

Reggie:
Yes, and you're a bit of a ... Now, Campbell- Lewiston. I remember you: Campbell-Lewiston, E.L. Ruttingstagge College, small-bore rifle team! 

C-L:
Of course! 'Goofy' Perrin. R.I. Perrin! 

Reggie:
Yes! You've done very well for yourself, you little squirt. Thank heavens for small-bores, because small bores 
get bigger every day! I really must congratulate you on the work you've been doing in Germany, Campbell-Lewiston. 

C-L:
Thank you. 

Reggie:
Remember the day you bit me in the changing room, little swine! 

C-L:
Bit you in the changing room? 

Reggie:
Yes, you've.. I'm sorry? You've done awfully well with the flans in Schleswig- Holstein. What we'd like you to do now is pave the way for our new range of Exotic Ices: mango delight, fig surprise, strawberry and lychee ripple. You'll find all the facts in this brochure here. 

C-L:
(He takes the brochure) I can't believe it. I've never bitten anyone! 

Reggie:
Initially, we'd like to... I'm sorry? Yes, I had the toothmarks for a fortnight. I told everybody they were my first lovebite. Initially, we'd like you to try out the Exotic Ice Creams in a typical German town. Are there any typical German towns? 

C-L:
Well, all German towns are typical. Is there any particular way you'd like me to promote the ices? 

Reggie:
Still breaking wind all the time are you? 

C-L:
I beg your pardon?!!! 

Reggie:
Yes. All you were good for in those days. Everybody used to say 'Campbell- Lewiston stood a better chance of hitting the target if he ate a tin of curried beans and stood with his back to it'! 

C-L:
(Stands in anger) I didn't come here to be insulted like that! 

Reggie:
Oh, alright then, I'll insult you like this: you don't clean your teeth properly, you slovenly sod! 

C-L:
Who the hell do you think you are?!!! 

Reggie:
I think I'm the bloke in charge of the Exotic Ices project, and therefore I am the bloke in charge of you !!! And I was very impressed, Campbell- Lewiston, with that article you wrote on the techniques of freezing junket in the International Deep-Freeze News. Congratulations! (He shakes his hand). 

C-L:
I hoped it would be alright. 

Reggie:
Absolutely marvellous, and jolly nice to see you! 

C-L:
Thank you. Er, all those names, they were a sort of... middle- management test? 

Reggie:
Oh yes, of course, you didn't realise? Yes, yes. It's the latest thing - 'industrial psychology'. Try it on the Germans! 

C-L:
Yes, I will! 

Reggie:
Well, you must go. Nice to see you again, and good luck with the Exotic Ices, you slimy creep. 

C-L:
Oh, ha-ha (they both laugh. C.J. enters). 

C.J.:
Ah, there you are Reggie. Here are my notes for your speech. 

C-L:
Hello, C.J. Or should I say 'slimy creep'? (He leaves). 

Reggie:
I'm worried about Campbell- Lewiston, C.J. 

Billberry Hall Speech

Series One - Episode Five:

C.J. has asked Reggie to give a speech on "the role of luxury desserts in a competitive industrial society" at a seminar at Bilberry Hall, the home of the British Fruit Association. The title of the speech, C.J. decided, would be "Are We Getting Our Just Desserts?" On the day of the speech, Reggie arrives a little inebriated - fuzzy-headed after taking a few too many tablets to calm him down and with a tendency to supplement certain words with "earwig" - at a meal held during the interval of the day's events. His wife Elizabeth is being entertained by Dr. Hump - a lecturer in the philosophy of fruit at the University of Budleigh Salterton - and Elwyn Watkins, the chief scientific advisor at the Bridgend College of Pesticides. Reggie finds the introductions most amusing, and he continues to drink, much to the annoyance and embarrassment of Elizabeth. Finally, the second half of the seminar begins, and Mr. Watkins welcomes Reggie to the podium. Elizabeth, C.J., Tony, David, Doc Morrissey and about forty other people anxiously await Reggie's speech. But by this time, Reggie is very drunk. As the speech progresses, he begins to slur his speech and mix up his words. It becomes evident, towards the end, that he has digressed from his speech completely and is making things up as he goes along. 

Mr. Watkins:
(On the stage). Welcome back. Now, if we can concentrate after our meals (He laughs. No one else does). We come now to the undoubted high spot of this afternoon's talks. I refer of course to none other than, er... (he searches his papers desperately for a name) to none other than, er... to none other than our first speaker this afternoon. He is indeed a household name to many of us, if not more. His subject this afternoon is, er... his subject is, er... his subject is the subject to which he is a household name to many of us, if not more. In fact, he needs no introduction from me, so here he is. (There is scattered applause as Reggie struggles to his feet). 

Reggie:
Thank you. Thank you very much indeed. Thank you, Mister... whatever your name is. When my boss said to me "Reginald Iolanthe Perrin, you are a senior sales earwig at Sunshine Desserts, and they are holding a seminar on instant puddings at Bilberry Hall and I want you to talk on 'Are We Getting Our Just Desserts?'", my first thought was: 'What a pathetic title for a talk!' (C.J. scowls). But then I thought again (C.J. loses his scowl). My second thought was: 'What a pathetic title for a talk!' (C.J. finds his scowl again). But I come here anyway because I have something very important to say to you all. We are told that we need more growth: 6% per year. More chemicals to cure more pollution, caused by more chemicals. More car parks for more tourists who want to get away from more car parks. More food, to make us more fat, to make us use more slimming aids, to make us take more pills, to make us ill, to make us take more pills, to make more profit. More boring speakers, making more boring speeches, at more boring conferences. 

Dr. Hump
(mutters to Mr. Watkins): This is rubbish. (Reggie overhears). 

Reggie:
More rubbish, that's a very good point, thank you Hump. But what has all this growth done for me? Well, I'll tell you. One day I'll die, and on my grave it will say: "Here lies Reginald Iolanthe Perrin. He didn't know the names of the trees and the flowers, but he knew the rhubarb crumble sales figures for Schleswig Holstein." Look outside at those trees - beautiful. But soon they will all be cut down to make more underground par carks (sic). But I have got good news for you, because half the parking meters in London have got Dutch Parking Meter disease. 

C.J.:
(to Elizabeth) I wish he'd stick to the point! I didn't get where I am today talking about Dutch Parking Meter Disease. 

Reggie:
In the audience, my boss C.J. Let's have a big hand for C.J. (there is scattered applause as C.J. half-rises in acknowledgement). OK, that's enough. Ladies and gentlemen. You see, we become what we do. You show me a hero who makes fondue tongs, and I'll show you a happy man who earns his living perforating lavatory paper. "But what do YOU believe in?" I hear you ask. Do I hear you ask? Well I'll tell you anyway: I know that I don't know. I believe in not believing. You see, for every man who believes something, there's somebody who believes the opposite. What's the point? How many wars would have been fought, how many people would have been tortured if nobody ever believed in anything? Have you ever heard of 'The Wars of the Apathetic'? Or 'the persecution of the apathetic by the 
bone idle'? 

Dr. Hump:
(Mutters to Mr. Watkins) I think we've heard enough of this! 

Reggie:
But if we try and complain about it, we're told we're standing in the way of 'progress'. Progress! There's a word that begs the pardon. I beg your parsnips. I'm sorry, it doesn't beg the parsnips, it begs the question. 

Dr. Hump:
I think he's drunk. 

Reggie:
That's funny, so do I. [Doc Morrissey stands up and leaves the room]. Oh, there he goes, Doc Morrissey, 'the wizard of the aspirin'. Off to the bog 'cause he's frightened of C.J.'s fishing contest. He's gone to practice his flies! 

Dr. Hump:
Get rid of him Watkins! 

Reggie:
Old 'baldy Hump' here. You know why he's bald, don't you? Made a right cock-up. Put pesticide on his hair, hair restorer on his plums. Now he's as bald as a coot, got a garden full of hairy plums! Anybody here from Canada? Anybody here from Australia? Tarporley? Anybody here from Tarporley? Stand up, all those from Tarporley and shake hands with the person on your right. 

C.J.:
Come on, Perrin! I didn't get where I am today shaking hands with the person on my right! 

Reggie:
Oh C.J., I want to help you! What use has life if it isn't for the people who have to live it? [Several people rise to remove Reggie from the podium, including Dr. Hump] Oh, here he comes, old 'baldy Hump'. 'Lecturer in Applied Manure at the University of Steeple Bumstead'! [Reggie is removed, and Mr. Watkins tries to restore order.] Get your hands off me! Oh God, he's got me right in the balls! 

Mr. Watkins:
(At the podium, trying to divert attention from Reggie's removal) Thank you, thank you for a most stimulating address. (To Dr. Hump) Oh, fair do's! 

Dr. Hump:
He didn't call you 'baldy'! 

Mr. Watkins:
I'm not bald! 

Elizabeth drives Reggie home, stopping for him on the way at a public lavatory in the town. Reggie leaves by another exit, catches a taxi to Sunshine Desserts, where he borrows a lorry of loganberry essence and drives it to C.J.'s country estate. After a threatening letter to C.J. promising that 'blood will flow', he releases the loganberry juice into the river from which C.J. and his guests are all fishing. Having completed his last 'snook' at society and the people who have made it hell for him, he drives to the Dorset coast and dons a new disguise, leaving Reggie's old clothes on the beach. 

Reggie spies on C.J., Tony and David

Series One - Episode Six:

Reginald Perrin has finally done it. He has left his clothes on the beach, and is free to start a new life wherever and however he likes. But he has gone back to his old haunts, namely Sunshine Desserts. It is lunchtime, so he goes to the local pub, The Feathers, where C.J., Tony Webster and David Harris-Jones are having a drink. Reggie sits nearby and eavesdrops on their conversation. 

Reggie:
(He enters, pretending to be a Welshman) Pint o' bitter, please landlord. Barrel brown, hop heavy, malt Malkdale to slake 
a Cambrian thirst, eh boyo? (He pays for his pint) There you are, I think you'll find that correct. All the very best. (As he sits, C.J. laughs loudly at Tony's joke. Reggie thinks 'My God, I've only been dead a month, they're laughing their heads off. Is that all they think of me? "Sad about Perrin" "Yes, yes, very sad. Hey, heard the one about the Irish kamikaze pilot?"')

Tony:
What's up with you, David? 

David:
I was thinking. Poor old Reggie. Only a month ago he was no further from me than you are now. 

C.J.:
It's made me wonder what life's all about. I don't like it. I didn't get where I am today wondering what life's all about. 

Tony:
Yes, I still can't believe he's snuffed it. 

C.J.:
Hmmm. I don't like it. It started me thinking. I didn't get where I am today by thinking. My father once caught me thinking, and I'll never forget what he said: "C.J.", he said - we were never close - "C.J.", he said "remember this - philosophy doesn't get the washing up done". 

David:
Anyway, Reggie's going has been good for you, Tony. It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good. 

C.J.:
Yes, I have every confidence in you, Tony. Every confidence that you will manage the Exotic Ices project just as well as Reggie Perrin. 

Tony:
Thank you, C.J. Great! 

David:
Super! 

C.J.:
If not better. 

Tony:
Thank you, C.J. Great! 

David:
Super! 

C.J.:
What did you two chaps think of Reggie Perrin, eh? 

David:
I think he was unpredictable. I mean, he wasn't always unpredictable. Sometimes he was very predictable. But 
you couldn't predict when he was going to be... predictable and, and, and when he was going to be... un... predictable. 

C.J.:
Yeeeees. What did you think, Tony? 

Tony:
Well, frankly C.J., I thought he was a decent enough chap who just wasn't quite up to it. 

C.J.:
Hmm. Yes. (Reggie gets up to leave). 

Tony:
Oh, by the way, have you heard the one about the Irish kamikaze pilot? 

Donald Potts’ letter to Elizabeth

Series One - Episode Six:

After his fake suicide, Reggie is now calling himself Donald Potts, and living in Mr. & Mrs. Deacon's boarding house. He is desperate to write to his wife Elizabeth to tell the whole story. He reads aloud what he has written. 

Oh my darling Elizabeth, I am writing this to tell you that I am not dead, and that I love you, and that I always will. I know this will come as a great shock after ten weeks, but I simply had to write. My name is now Donald Potts and I am living in a bedsitter. It’s horrible, and I like it. Last week when I posed as an Italian and got a lift in your car – on which, incidentally, the tax has run out – I realised what really matters most to me is your happiness, darling. Don’t worry about me. I have no money left, but I have applied for a job in which I think I will be very happy.  So I have been here a week now darling and I still haven’t finished writing this letter. I found the routine of my job very difficult at first, but now I am falling in with it. My landlady seems very nice. I often miss you but I know that I could never again give you the support that you need. I can’t believe in the expansion of industry, the challenge of the Common Market, any of the claptrap. So much seems ridiculous. The shape of this pen strikes me as ludicrous. I can’t take the male sexual organ seriously. The sight of a pumice stone is liable to drive me hysterical, and I shall never again be able to think of your mother without thinking of a hippopotamus – I just did, and it was lovely. I had to leave you darling, I felt like I was going sane and mad at the same time. But then the words ‘sane’ and ‘mad’ don’t have much meaning do they? So few words do – blue, green, butter, kettle. Blue is green to some people and others can’t tell butter from margarine. Oh, oh my darling Elizabeth. We never talked enough, or loved enough, or lived enough. When did I last tell you that I love you, which I do so very much. It’s hard to know that I shall never see you again… Your ever-loving, Reggie.

Reggie decides not to post the letter and instead rips it up.

Donald Potts' Job Interview

Series One - Episode Six:

Now living in a bedsitter as scruffily- dressed Donald Potts, Reggie is short of money and needs to get a job. He goes for an interview with the council, expecting a park- keeper's job. He is given something slightly different. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
(Reggie has knocked and entered) Sit down. 

Donald:
(In gruff Cockney accent) Oh, ta, guv. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
Name? 

Donald:
Potts. Potts, Donald. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
Why do you want to work in the Parks Department? 

Donald:
I like the open air life, sir. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
Have you had much experience in gardens? 

Donald:
I done a lo' of odd jobs. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
I see, 'odd jobs'. What job are you in at the moment? 

Donald:
Temporarily unemployed, sir. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
Oh, splendid! What jobs have you done? 

Donald:
You name it, I done it! 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
I'd rather you named it, Mr. Potts. 

Donald:
Oh, er, decorating, plastering, tiling, guttering, perching... 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
'Perching'? 

Donald:
Yeah, gutta-perching. That's, like, perching on gutters. To mend roofs and that. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
Do you have any references? 

Donald:
Nah. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
Good! Splendid. Have you ever been 'inside'? 

Donald:
So what?! I paid for wo' I done! 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
What did you do? 

Donald:
Six mumfs. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
Yes, yes. But what crime did you commit? 

Donald:
Embezzlement, sir. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
Oh fine! That's most satisfactory. 

Donald:
Bu' I've turned over a new leaf, sir. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
Yes, and if you come and work for us, you'll turn over a lot of leaves! (He laughs. Alone). Do you drink, Mr. Potts? 

Donald:
Only to excess, sir. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
Excellent. 

Donald:
Yeah, tha's 'ow I lost my Doris, on account o' the drinkin' and the embezzlin' and the kipper-throwing. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
I see. Throwing kippers?! 

Donald:
Yeah, I do a lo' o' tha'. 

Mr. Thorneycroft:
Well, you seem to be just the sort of chap we're looking for. So many of our applicants these days have A-levels and degrees. Ex-salesmen and nuclear scientist dropouts. No use to us at all, you never know where you are with them. No, you're the sort of chap we're looking for: a lazy, criminal drunkard. You can start Monday morning. 

Donald:
Thank you very much, sir! In the municipal park, sir?