| Reggieinterviews
Perrins' first two guests
Series Three, Episode
Three:
After the community's first
guest fled in panic, Reggie has decided to personally interview each guest
as they arrive.
Reggie:
(On the phone) Perrin
here, on green. Would you send in the first of our two guests please, madam
secretary? Thank you. (There is a knock at the door) Come in! Hello,
and welcome to our little comm... Good Heavens, it's Mr. Pelham the pig
farmer!
Mr. Pelham:
Got it in one, old son!
When I saw your adverts I thought, 'That's the same Reggie Perrin who used
to swill out my porkers'.
Reggie:
Ooh, ar. Ooh, ar!
Mr. Pelham:
'He's the man to come to
with my problems', I thought.
Reggie:
Right, so what are your
problems?
Mr. Pelham:
Well, I've expanded Reg.
Pigs, calves, battery chickens. I'm a success! An abbatoir in Bicester
gives me group rates.
Reggie:
Splendid. Great news. So
what's the problem?
Mr. Pelham:
Meat. I've gone off meat.
Reggie:
Oh dear.
Mr. Pelham:
All those chickens locked
in the dark with their beaks cut off. Calves kept anaemic so their meat
will be pale, and all to be slaughtered in the end so that people can gorge
themselves.
Reggie:
Oh, dear oh dear.
Mr. Pelham:
My daughter doesn't speak
to me anymore. My son's a vegetarian. And it's ten years since my wife
was knocked over by that bus outside Macfisheries. The branch isn't even
there now, it's Timothy Whites. |
Reggie:
Oh dear oh dear.
Mr. Pelham:
Look, is that all you're
going to say, "Oh dear, oh dear"?
Reggie:
(Under his breath)
Try and look professional.
(He pretends to write things down, while
Mr. Pelham peers over). Sorry, professional secret
(Reggie slides
the paper off the desk and screws it up).
Mr. Pelham:
I get these strange dreams,
Reg. Dreams of Hell.
Reggie:
Oh dear oh dear.
Mr. Pelham:
I'm locked in a cage with
my nose cut off. Rows of me, millions of me. And opposite there are thousands
of me, turning on spits, dripping fat. And Satan and thousands of his sultry
mistresses are licking their lips in anticipation of their finger-lickin'
Hades Fried Pelham.
Reggie:
Oh dear oh dear.
Mr. Pelham:
Well, if you can't do anything
for me... (He gets up to leave).
Reggie:
(Under his breath)
Say something, say anything. Er, yes, our expert therapists and consultants
will help to make you a wiser, braver, happier, better, more complete human
being. When you leave here, Mr. Pelham, your problems will be... will no
longer exist!
Mr. Pelham:
Thank you, Reg. I knew you
could do it (He turns and leaves).
Reggie:
(Under
his breath) It's more than I did. (He picks up the phone) Would
you send in the second of our two guests, please, madam secretary, thank
you. (To himself)
I must be more dominant and assertive right from
the start. (There is a knock at the door). Come in!
Thruxton:
Morning. Thruxton Appleby
the textiles tycoon. I expect you've heard of me. Yes, of course you have.
I saw your advert in the Mucklethwaite Morning Telegraph, and I like it's
bare-faced cheek. If there's one thing I admire, it's bare-faced cheek.
Yorkshireman are you?
Reggie:
No no, Londoner. |
Thruxton:
Oh that's odd. You don't
often find bare-faced cheek among namby- pamby Southerners. Well, Mr. Perrin,
normally, I don't bother with quacks, cranks or crackpots, but I've tried
everything: health farms, headshrinkers, religion. You are my last resort.
Reggie:
Oh, how flattering. So what
is your problem, Mr. Appleby?
Thruxton:
I'm not likeable, Mr. Perrin.
Reggie:
Oh! (Pretends to write)
'Thinks he's not likeable, and he's dead right'. Sorry, professional secret.
Thruxton:
Oh. I'm not liked as a person,
you see. It's an ungrateful world. When I think of all the things I've
done for Mucklethwaite: You can walk through the Thruxton Appleby Memorial
Gardens, past the Thruxton Appleby Memorial Bandstand, and gaze out over
the whole of Mucklethwaite as far as Scrag End Fell, and what are you sat
on?
Reggie:
I've no idea.
Thruxton:
The Thruxton Appleby Memorial
Seat.
Reggie:
Oh. Shouldn't memorials
be for after you're dead?
Thruxton:
Well that's no good is it,
you can't take them with you. My trouble, Mr. Perrin, is I expect money
to carry all before it. Cure me of that and you can name your price.
Reggie:
(Under his breath) Treat
him the way he treats everybody else. Be as rude as he is. (He pretends
to write again). Smoke?
Thruxton:
Yes.
Reggie:
Oh! 'Smokes - filthy habit'.
Caught you there! Drink?
Thruxton:
Yes.
Reggie:
Gin, whisky, vodka?
Thruxton:
Anything. |
Reggie:
'Drinks like a fish'. Caught
you twice. Thick as well as nasty.
Thruxton:
What's that you say?!
Reggie:
Oh deaf, too. 'Smokes, drinks,
deaf...'
Thruxton:
I'm not used to being spoken
to like that!
Reggie:
Well, you should come here
more often. Tell me, Drangleby, why do you think you're so loathed?
Thruxton:
Not 'loathed', Mr. Perrin.
Not even 'disliked', just 'not liked'. I'm rich you see.
Reggie:
Oh we'll soon cure you of
that. (He writes)
'Nosey swine'. Excuse me would you? (Reggie
walks to the door. Thruxton reads what Reggie has written).
Thruxton:
I don't think I'm a 'nosey
swine'!
Reggie:
Caught you again! (He
meets C.J. in the corridor) Ah, C.J. Will you come into my office in
exactly thirty seconds, and help to deflate the pompous windbag who's sitting
in there?
C.J.:
It'd be a pleasure.
Reggie:
Thank you, C.J. (He returns
to his office and waits). Come in!
Thruxton:
Nobody knocked.
Reggie:
Somebody will, if you give
it time. Come in!
Thruxton:
Why do you keep saying 'come
in'?
Reggie:
Third time lucky. Come in.C.J.,
are you coming in?
(C.J. enters) Ah, C.J. it's you, Good Heavens.Is
this important C.J.?
C.J.:
Not at all, Reggie.
Reggie:
Good, then take your time.
C.J.:
I just wondered if you'd
heard the weather forecast? |
Reggie:
The weather forecast, C.J.?
I haven't, but I'll certainly ring for it. (He picks up the phone) Reggie
here on green, would you get me the weather forecast? Put it through on
red, would you?
(He puts down the green and picks up the red phone).
Hello, weather forecast? Yes... yes... coming through.. yes... on a lower...
Thank you. (He replaces the receiver). I've now heard the weather
forecast, C.J. Thank you.
C.J.:
Good. I'll be off then.
Reggie:
Oh, this is the chemicals
tycoon Throxton Dringleby.
Thruxton:
Textiles!
C.J.:
Nice to meet you, Mr. Textiles.
Thruxton:
Appleby!
Reggie:
You've probably heard of
the Throxton Ongleby Memorial Hatstand?
Thruxton:
Bandstand!
C.J.:
Nice to have met you, Mr.
Bandstand. (C.J. leaves).
Thruxton:
Not very subtle tactics!
Reggie:
For a not very subtle man.
Now we can cure you, Droogleby, but it'll take some time: In a fortnight
you'll no longer be obnoxious - irritating and mind-bogglingly boring,
perhaps, but not obnoxious. In three weeks you'll be tolerable in medium-sized
doses in mixed company, and in four weeks, give or day a take or two -
or give or take a day or two, as it's not an exact science and I'm not
an exact speaker - you might even be likeable.
Thruxton:
Thank you!
Reggie:
Off you go, you bloated
capitalist. Take your unacceptable face from my study!
Thruxton:
Thank you. Thank you! (He
leaves).
Reggie:
He took it! He must be mad! |