Ronin had some great car chases. F&F5 had them stealing a vault by dragging it along the streets of
Rio ? The Transporter had a great chase, perhaps a carriage could get stuck on some mine shaft
rails ? ( temple of doom type )
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
Just a few ideas ( None of which need to be used )
Perhaps Sir James's carriage could land on some mine tracks ( Bit of Octopussy ) before that, his
carriage could have it's roof chopped off by going under a castle gate etc ( AVTAK ) , to get rid of
a knave in his carriage, Sir James could do a spiral jump, causing the knave to fall out ( TMWTGG )
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
(Outside ye distillery.)
Twys: What a beautiful carriage thou doth have.
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!!!
Twys: Hmm?
Sir James: Er, I have had a few optional extras installed.
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: 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: 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.)
(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!
That's all there is, people. I've incorporated all of TP's ideas and now we have to think of how Sir James escapes the firing squad and rescues Twys before blowing up the castle and thwarting Blofeld's plan....
(Outside ye distillery.)
Twys: What a beautiful carriage thou doth have.
Sir James: Aye, make them like this they do not any more. I prithee, please enter.
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 d'ith Pimp my ride.
(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 Head lights ?
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.
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
On escaping the firing squad, I was thinking as in LALD. Might Sir James have a magnet hidden by
the old wizard in his cod piece Which Sir Brucie removes with his doublet, so when the Firing squad
shoot their arrows they turn 90 degrees and impale Sir Bruce letting Sir James escape ?
Could do the old CR joke of Sir James jumping over a wall only to land in front of another Firing
squad, startling the guards and runs in to the castle .
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
That's an idea. I was thinking of having Sir James suddenly produce the blond wig which makes everyone believe his lies, and tell the firing squad to shoot Sir Brucie. What do you think?
Feel free to join in, N24- and anyone else of course.
(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!
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! (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: A most useful item, methinks.
(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: A most useful item, methinks. Lets me get Exit Done
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
Sir James now has to rescue Twys from Blofeld's evil clutches. I was thinking about finding her in a gold bikini, chained to Blofeld's throne. Sir James enters, masked, and offers Jabba, er, Blofeld a deal to which the reply is "Ho ho ho" and Sir James falls through a trapdoor....
(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 willt 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! (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 blond wig.) Ah, mm, aha, I must speak with ye Comte.
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. (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 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.
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- (Ye Comte de Blofeld pulls a lever, and a trapdoor opens sending Sir James falling below.)
(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 willt 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! Does 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,
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 realises he has put on the wrong wig, so quickly changes to the magical Blonde 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, Has't thee finished arranging by baubles ?
Sir David : Aye my Master ( He exits, removing some tight rubber gloves )
( Sir James Looks at the 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 thee sandith on
(Ye Comte de Blofeld pulls a lever, and a trapdoor opens sending Sir James falling below.)
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
Next, when Sir James falls through the trapdoor he meets a well-known figure we can take the pi..., er, have fun with. My first thoughts are Andrew Neil and Piers Morgan. I don't think Neil is well-enough known though I could be wrong, while Morgan is known in the US but isn't the much-slagged figure there that he is here. Any thoughts?
Could be a large Orange beast, ( Trump) a freak of an oompa loompa ? Like the inflatable
one over London, Sir James could pierce it to bring it down to size, If Sir James tries his
magic wig, the Trump could try to grab him in his ....... Kitty Galore ?
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
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!!! (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 draws his dagger and pierces ye orange skin of ye Wancor. As with a balloon, it deflates quickly.)
Comte: Curse ye, Sir James. (Sir James dives quickly through the gate ye beast entered from.)
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-lumpas 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 Ann Widdecombe's Dance teacher for two years
(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 yee feels a bit of a dick now ?
(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.)
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
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!
Comments
Rio ? The Transporter had a great chase, perhaps a carriage could get stuck on some mine shaft
rails ? ( temple of doom type )
Perhaps Sir James's carriage could land on some mine tracks ( Bit of Octopussy ) before that, his
carriage could have it's roof chopped off by going under a castle gate etc ( AVTAK ) , to get rid of
a knave in his carriage, Sir James could do a spiral jump, causing the knave to fall out ( TMWTGG )
(Outside ye distillery.)
Twys: What a beautiful carriage thou doth have.
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!!!
Twys: Hmm?
Sir James: Er, I have had a few optional extras installed.
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: 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: 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.
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.)
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!
All ideas welcome!
Twys: What a beautiful carriage thou doth have.
Sir James: Aye, make them like this they do not any more. I prithee, please enter.
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 d'ith Pimp my ride.
(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 Head lights ?
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.
the old wizard in his cod piece Which Sir Brucie removes with his doublet, so when the Firing squad
shoot their arrows they turn 90 degrees and impale Sir Bruce letting Sir James escape ?
Could do the old CR joke of Sir James jumping over a wall only to land in front of another Firing
squad, startling the guards and runs in to the castle .
" Nice to flee you, to flee you nice "
I'll get onto that later, unless you beat me to it.
(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!
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!
(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: A most useful item, methinks.
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: A most useful item, methinks. Lets me get Exit Done
Sir James now has to rescue Twys from Blofeld's evil clutches. I was thinking about finding her in a gold bikini, chained to Blofeld's throne. Sir James enters, masked, and offers Jabba, er, Blofeld a deal to which the reply is "Ho ho ho" and Sir James falls through a trapdoor....
leading to something like ........
https://youtu.be/XMxSOiOWdvA
My favourite episode of that wonderful series- love that scene!
(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 willt 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!
(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 blond wig.) Ah, mm, aha, I must speak with ye Comte.
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.
(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 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.
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-
(Ye Comte de Blofeld pulls a lever, and a trapdoor opens sending Sir James falling below.)
Comte: Now, my dear, thou willt 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! Does 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,
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 realises he has put on the wrong wig, so quickly changes to the magical Blonde 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, Has't thee finished arranging by baubles ?
Sir David : Aye my Master ( He exits, removing some tight rubber gloves )
( Sir James Looks at the 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 thee sandith on
(Ye Comte de Blofeld pulls a lever, and a trapdoor opens sending Sir James falling below.)
Next, when Sir James falls through the trapdoor he meets a well-known figure we can take the pi..., er, have fun with. My first thoughts are Andrew Neil and Piers Morgan. I don't think Neil is well-enough known though I could be wrong, while Morgan is known in the US but isn't the much-slagged figure there that he is here. Any thoughts?
Could be a large Orange beast, ( Trump) a freak of an oompa loompa ? Like the inflatable
one over London, Sir James could pierce it to bring it down to size, If Sir James tries his
magic wig, the Trump could try to grab him in his ....... Kitty Galore ?
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!!!
(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 draws his dagger and pierces ye orange skin of ye Wancor. As with a balloon, it deflates quickly.)
Comte: Curse ye, Sir James.
(Sir James dives quickly through the gate ye beast entered from.)
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-lumpas 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 Ann Widdecombe's Dance teacher for two years
(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 yee feels a bit of a dick now ?
(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.)
Gimme about 20 minutes for the next bit...
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!