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, a den of villainy, full of knaves and ne'er-do-wells
Lord Felix : A Republican Party Fund raiser ?
Sir James : Nay, 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 get em! I'm with you all the way.
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
Saw this one on Facebook and thought it would fit well-
Twys: Sir James, I'm feeling hungry.
Sir James: No problem- here, I have acquired some spinach.
Twys: I did not expect that.
Sir James: No-one expects the spinach acquisition!
Lord Felix Sir James, I'm feeling hungry.
Sir James: No problem- here, I have acquired some spinach.
Lord Felix: I did not expect that.
Sir James: No-one expects the spinach acquisition! Hmm.. gives me an idea... The torture chamber of ye Comte de Blofeld’s castle. Twys ist held by two of ye Comte’s guards.
Comte: Now, my dear, thou shalt tell me ye secret formula for the Bloody Mary!
Twys: Never! Thou canst not make me talk.
Comte: You think not? Now, guard- the rack! (Ye guard produces a plastic-coated dish-drying rack. Ye Comte de Blofeld looks at it in disbelief and clenches his teeth in an effort not to lose control. He hums heavily to cover his anger)
Comte: You....Right! Tie her down. (Ye two guards make a pathetic attempt to tie her on to the drying rack.)
Comte: Right! Tell me!
Twys: Never!
Comte: Ha! Right! Guardl, give ye rack (Aside.)(oh dear) give ye rack a turn. (The guard stands there awkwardly and shrugs his shoulders.)
Guard: I....
Comte: (Gritting his teeth.) I know, I know you can't. I didn't want to say anything. I just wanted to try and ignore your crass mistake.
Guard: I...
Comte: It makes it all seem so stupid.
Guard: Shall I...?
Comte: No, just pretend for God's sake. Ha! Ha! Ha! (Ye guard turns an imaginary handle on the side of the dish-rack.)
Twys: I don't understand!
Comte: Ha! Then we'll make you understand! Guards, fetch...THE CUSHIONS!
((A dramatic chord ist heard. Ye guard holds out two ordinary modern household cushions.)
Guard: Here they are, Comte de Blofeld.
Comte: Now, Apothecary Knightley – thou hast one last chance. Tell me ye recipe and where it ist made- two last chances. And where it can be found- three last chances. You have three last chances, the nature of which I have divulged in my previous utterance.
Twys: I don't know what you're talking about.
Comte: Right! If that's the way you want it- guard! Poke her with the soft cushions! (Ye guard carries out this rather pathetic torture.)
Comte: Confess! Confess! Confess!
Guard: It doesn't seem to be hurting her, Comte de Blofeld.
Comte: Have you got all the stuffing up one end?
Guard: Yes, lord.
Comte: (Angrily hurling away ye cushions.) Um! She is made of harder stuff! Guards! Fetch...YE COMFY CHAIR! (A dramatic chord ist heard. We see ye guard’s horrified face.)
Guard: Ye comfy chair???? (Ye other guard pushes in a comfy chair.)
Comte: So you think you are strong because you can survive the soft cushions. Well, we shall see. Guards! Put her in the Comfy Chair! (They roughly push her into the Comfy Chair.)
Comte: Now- you will stay in the Comfy Chair until lunch time, with only a cup of coffee at eleven. (Aside, to ye guards.) Is that really all it is?
Guard: Yes, sire.
Comte: I see. I suppose we make it worse by shouting a lot, do we? Confess, woman. Confess! Confess! Confess! Confess!
Guard: I confess!
Comte: Not you!
Twys: I didn’t expect a sort of Spanish Inquisition. (Ye dramatic chord ist heard again. The door flies open and Sir James and Lord Felix burst into ye chamber.)
Sir James: NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to Albion.... Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as fear, surprise.... I'll come in again. (Exit and exeunt.)
Twys: I didn't expect a sort of Spanish Inquisition. (Ye dramatic chord ist heard once more. Sir James and Lord Felix burst in.)
Sir James: NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as: fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to Albion, and nice red uniforms - Oh damn! (To Lord Felix.) I can't say it - you'll have to say it.
Lord Felix: What?
Sir James: You'll have to say the bit about 'Our chief weapons are ...'
Lord Felix: (Rather horrified.) I couldn't do that... (Sir James rushes Lord Felix off-stage again.)
Twys: (Very flatly.) I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition. (Dramatic chord. Sir James and Lord Felix enter.)
Lord Felix: Er.... Nobody...um....
Sir James: Expects...
Lord Felix: Expects... Nobody expects the...um...the Spanish...um...
Sir James: Inquisition.
Lord Felix: I know, I know! Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. In fact, those who do expect -
Sir James: Our chief weapons are...
Lord Felix: Our chief weapons are...um...er...
Sir James: Surprise...
Lord Felix: Surprise and --
Sir James: Okay, stop. Stop. Stop there - stop there. Stop. Phew! Ah! ...our chief weapons are surprise...blah blah blah.
Comte : Bring me the Cheddar, Parmesan, Wensleydale and Stilton !
Sir James : Nay Don't tell Me I'm to be .....
Comte : Aye Sir James you are to be " Cheese Boarded "
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
Comte: Bring me the Cheddar, Parmesan, Wensleydale and Stilton!
Twys: Nay! Don't tell me I'm to be.....
Comte: Aye- thou art to be "Cheese Boarded"!
Twys: Thou canst not do that to me- I am a vegan!
Comte: Oh, I see. Better not do that then, don't want to offend anybody. 8-) Nevertheless, my dear, thou shalt tell me ye secret formula for the Bloody Mary!
Twys: Never! Thou canst not make me talk.
Comte: You think not? Now, guard- the rack!
(The Spanish Inquisition scene until...)
Sir James: Our chief weapons are...
Lord Felix: Our chief weapons are...um...er...
Sir James: Surprise...
Lord Felix: Surprise and --
Sir James: Okay, stop. Stop. Stop there - stop there. Stop. Phew! Ah! ...our chief weapons are surprise...blah blah blah. Hey, where did Blofeld go?
Twys: He got fed up listening to you- he's buggered off!
Sir James: Oh. Then I guess we must do the same- to London, apace, I must consult with M!
Act 5, Scene 1.Ye throne room of Sir Gareth Mallory.
Sir Gareth: ... so ye Comte de Blofeld hast escaped... again?
Sir James: Aye, mine liege, 'tis true- but not with ye formula for ye "Bloody Mary".
Lord Felix: For Apothecary Knightley did not reveal it to him.
Sir James: And from what I hear, Red Nicola ist doing very well without using said formula. Scotland doth belong to her, in ye most part, and statistically she doth outnumber Lord Boris and all others.
Sir Gareth: What, then, do you suggest we do, Naught Naught Seven?
Sir James: 'Tis my opinion we do nothing, sire. Sure I am that there will be some constitutional balls-up to prevent ye Scots from breaking away, at least for many years.
Lord Felix: Hmm...
Sir Gareth: Then let it be so... for ye moment. We shall not look into the matter any more.
Sir James: Aye, mine liege. This is... no time to pry.
Lord Felix: Oh, no...
Sir Gareth: I thought I told you to stop doing that.
Sir James: Oh yes, mine apologies.
Maid Moneypenny: Sir Gareth, Apothecary Knightley awaits outside.
Sir Gareth: Show her in, Maid Moneypenny, and I prithee join us. (Maid Moneypenny and Apothecary Knightley enter.)
Sir Gareth: Apothecary Knightley, mine thanks for all thine help to Naught Naught Seven during this mission.
Twys: Mine pleasure, Sir Gareth.
Sir Gareth: Methinks 'tis time for a drink to celebrate!
Sir James: Thine predecessor kept Bourbon in...
Sir Gareth: I prefer wine. Maid Moneypenny, please do the honours.
Maid Moneypenny: Of course. Sir James, would thee prefer sweet or dry?
Sir James: Why, sweet of course- 'tis no time to dry. (All present throw things at Sir James.)
April
Lord Felix: We must away, and tarry not, for this is a matter of much urgency.
Sir James: Hath no fears old friend, 'twould take a foul oriental disease to get the better of me. (Eight months later they set off.)
Lord Felix: Sir James, that be'eth the worst case of man flu I hath ever seen.
The throne room of Sir Gareth Mallory. Sir James enters.
Sir Gareth: Over here, Naught Naught Seven. Sit ye down.
Sir James: (Looking around, puzzled.) Greetings, mine liege, but... where ist Maid Moneypenny? I was looking forward to some witty and not at all sexist banter before reporting to thee.
Sir Gareth: Maid Moneypenny hast chosen to be working from home at this time.
Sir James: Working from home?
Sir Gareth: Aye, and that ist what I do wish to see thee about. It is my wish that thou should do ye same for the foreseeable future.
Sir James: What? Me work from home?
Sir Gareth: 'Tis so. I shalt arrange for a number of willing maidens, at least one seemingly unbeatable henchman, and thine carriage, made by ye DB5th Earl of Aston and the Viscount Martin, to be delivered to thine abode.
Sir James: But, sire....
Sir Gareth: Oh, and of course a large supply of mead, but thou will have to shake and not stir it thineself.
Sir James: Of course, mine liege, if this be thine desire. I shalt get to work straight away!
Sir Gareth: No rush, Naught Naught Seven.
Sir James: (Bewildered.) No rush?
Sir Gareth: Aye. (Sighs heavily.) Thou cannot start until ye twelfth day of November.
Sir James: Ye twelfth of November????
Sir Gareth: 'Tis so. Now, on thine way, Naught Naught Seven.... but take thine time.
)
Perhaps sir James should comment how he usually travels to exotic places and hardly ever lives at home - sleeping there happens even more seldom. In fact his abode is barely furnished (just a bar and a bed) and he's not even sure of the address. Can he even find it?
A street in London. Sir James drives his carriage.
Sir James: Hmm, now sure I am that mine abode ist here somewhere... Perhaps this one? (Sir James alights from his carriage and goes to a door marked "221B". A man with a moustache, carrying an old-fashioned doctor's bag, answers ye door.)
Man: Yes?
Sir James: Mine pardon, I did think that this wast mine house.
Man: Nay, I think that thou art-
2nd Man: Let me see, Watson. (Ye first man groans slightly as a tall thin man smoking a pipe walks forward.)
2nd Man: I see from thine attire that thou wert once a sailor, but now work for, shall we say, an unspecified department in ye Ministry of Defence. And thine father was a Scot and thine mother Swiss. Thine carriage hast been modified in unusual ways- one of ye seats ist on springs, for example- and under thine left arm ist a holster holding a firearm, most probably made by ye Walther company.
Sir James: 'Tis true, but at ye moment I do seek-
2nd Man: For breakfast thou didst have scrambled eggs, and last night though didst consume rather too many glasses of mead, shaken but not stirred. Furthermore, thou wert with a woman in her early twenties with long red hair, an unusually long tongue, missing one of her stockings, about five foot five inches, with loose morals and a father complex. She didst enjoy taking-
Watson: Enough, Holmes. This man ist merely seeking his abode.
Holmes: Oh, right. Take ye the first on the right, then second left.
Sir James: I thank'ee. (Sir James heads back to his carriage.)
Watson: (Voice fading as Sir James leaves.) Really, Holmes, I wish you wouldn't...
Sir James: Hmm, first right then second left...
(Sir James arrives at his abode.)
Sir James: Ah, here we are. 'Tis very rare that I am here, what with me spending so much time travelling to exotic places. (He enters to a very bare apartment, containing only a bed and a bar.)
Sir James: Home sweet home. I hardly ever live at home - sleeping there happens even more seldom. (He kicks off his shoes, removes his doublet and heads to ye bar.)
Sir James: Now, let me see...? Oh yes- Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of- (There ist a knock at ye door.)
Sir James: Who ist there?
Voice: Snow White.
Sir James: With or without ye dwarves?
Voice: Without. (Sir James opens ye door, to reveal...)
Sir James: Lord Felix!
Lord Felix: I bid thee greetings, Sir James.
Sir James: Normally, I wouldst embrace ye warmly-
Lord Felix: (Ruefully.) Or punch me in mine stomach.
Sir James: ...but in these times that ist frowned upon. Let us do ye new plague greeting!
Lord Felix: But of course. (Awkwardly they bump elbows. Then heels, followed by a knee bump and a medium headbutt.)
Sir James: And what brings ye here, to mine abode?
Lord Felix: Ah, 'tis a matter of importance. We must away, and tarry not for this ist a matter of great urgency.
Sir James: Alack, not till ye twelfth day of November shalt we depart.
Lord Felix: Surely thou art not serious?
Sir James: Most serious, and call me Shirley not.
Lord Felix: Then I must depart alone- farewell, Sir James, I hope to see thee soon.
Very good. Perhaps Holmes can say a lot about the woman/women he spent last night with? Such as a woman in her early twenties with long red hair, an unusually long tongue, missing one of her stockings, about five 5' 5'', with lose morals and a father comlex?
Sir Gareth : Good Maid Moneypenny, the young Wizard hath begun using a new word, for which
I hath never heard before " contagious" ? Could ye explain, so I may better understand ?
Maid Moneypenny : Aye, my lord this a new scientific word. Which doth mean how the plague can spread across our realm.
Sir Gareth : most interesting ..
( enter Sir James, looking at a new sword .... )
Sir Gareth : Ah ! Sit James, could ye use the
Term " contagious " in a sentence for us ?
Sir James: Aye, I did ask the young Wizard for
A new sword and to comply with my request it
Took the " contagious " !
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
(Lord Felix makes his leave. Sir James returns to ye bar.)
Sir James: Now, where was I...? Oh yes- Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of- (There is another knock on ye door.)
Sir James: Oh, blast! (Sir James opens ye door to find a figure dressed all in white paper, with a mask covering the lower half of its face.)
Sir James: Aye?
Figure: Mmmf knff ummf tmm thkkk.
Sir James: What? (The figure pulls down its facemask.)
William of Tanner: Greetings, Naught Naught Seven, 'tis I.
Sir James: Tanner! What hath brought thee to mine abode?
William of Tanner: Sent have I been by ye Young Wizard to bring thee this parcel.
Sir James: Ah, 'tis mine new sword, I have no doubt.
William of Tanner: He hath begun using a new word, for which I hath never heard before- "contagious". Could ye explain, so I may better understand?
Sir James : Aye, this a new scientific word which doth mean how the plague can spread across our realm.
William of Tanner: Most interesting .. could ye use the term " contagious " in a sentence for us?
Sir James: Aye, I did ask the Young Wizard for this new sword and to comply with my request it took the "contagious"!
William of Tanner: Huh? Kva? Brukar me engelsk? Please explain it to me ….
Sir James: (Impatiently.) It took the cu-
William of Tanner: Ah! I get it now, no need to tell me 24 times.
Sir James: Also I'd like to point out it's a very, very, very old joke.
William of Tanner: Well, 'tis new to me. Now, Naught Naught Seven, I had best be on my way. (William of Tanner makes his leave. Sir James returns to ye bar, again.)
Sir James: I'll get this drink yet. Now, six measures of-
Comments
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, a den of villainy, full of knaves and ne'er-do-wells
Lord Felix : A Republican Party Fund raiser ?
Sir James : Nay, 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 get em! I'm with you all the way.
It's a scene we've done variations on before, of course. What could we do to liven this one up? Not Star Wars again!
Twys: Sir James, I'm feeling hungry.
Sir James: No problem- here, I have acquired some spinach.
Twys: I did not expect that.
Sir James: No-one expects the spinach acquisition!
Lord Felix Sir James, I'm feeling hungry.
Sir James: No problem- here, I have acquired some spinach.
Lord Felix: I did not expect that.
Sir James: No-one expects the spinach acquisition! Hmm.. gives me an idea...
The torture chamber of ye Comte de Blofeld’s castle. Twys ist held by two of ye Comte’s guards.
Comte: Now, my dear, thou shalt tell me ye secret formula for the Bloody Mary!
Twys: Never! Thou canst not make me talk.
Comte: You think not? Now, guard- the rack!
(Ye guard produces a plastic-coated dish-drying rack. Ye Comte de Blofeld looks at it in disbelief and clenches his teeth in an effort not to lose control. He hums heavily to cover his anger)
Comte: You....Right! Tie her down.
(Ye two guards make a pathetic attempt to tie her on to the drying rack.)
Comte: Right! Tell me!
Twys: Never!
Comte: Ha! Right! Guardl, give ye rack (Aside.)(oh dear) give ye rack a turn.
(The guard stands there awkwardly and shrugs his shoulders.)
Guard: I....
Comte: (Gritting his teeth.) I know, I know you can't. I didn't want to say anything. I just wanted to try and ignore your crass mistake.
Guard: I...
Comte: It makes it all seem so stupid.
Guard: Shall I...?
Comte: No, just pretend for God's sake. Ha! Ha! Ha!
(Ye guard turns an imaginary handle on the side of the dish-rack.)
Twys: I don't understand!
Comte: Ha! Then we'll make you understand! Guards, fetch...THE CUSHIONS!
((A dramatic chord ist heard. Ye guard holds out two ordinary modern household cushions.)
Guard: Here they are, Comte de Blofeld.
Comte: Now, Apothecary Knightley – thou hast one last chance. Tell me ye recipe and where it ist made- two last chances. And where it can be found- three last chances. You have three last chances, the nature of which I have divulged in my previous utterance.
Twys: I don't know what you're talking about.
Comte: Right! If that's the way you want it- guard! Poke her with the soft cushions!
(Ye guard carries out this rather pathetic torture.)
Comte: Confess! Confess! Confess!
Guard: It doesn't seem to be hurting her, Comte de Blofeld.
Comte: Have you got all the stuffing up one end?
Guard: Yes, lord.
Comte: (Angrily hurling away ye cushions.) Um! She is made of harder stuff! Guards! Fetch...YE COMFY CHAIR!
(A dramatic chord ist heard. We see ye guard’s horrified face.)
Guard: Ye comfy chair????
(Ye other guard pushes in a comfy chair.)
Comte: So you think you are strong because you can survive the soft cushions. Well, we shall see. Guards! Put her in the Comfy Chair!
(They roughly push her into the Comfy Chair.)
Comte: Now- you will stay in the Comfy Chair until lunch time, with only a cup of coffee at eleven. (Aside, to ye guards.) Is that really all it is?
Guard: Yes, sire.
Comte: I see. I suppose we make it worse by shouting a lot, do we? Confess, woman. Confess! Confess! Confess! Confess!
Guard: I confess!
Comte: Not you!
Twys: I didn’t expect a sort of Spanish Inquisition.
(Ye dramatic chord ist heard again. The door flies open and Sir James and Lord Felix burst into ye chamber.)
Sir James: NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to Albion.... Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as fear, surprise.... I'll come in again.
(Exit and exeunt.)
Twys: I didn't expect a sort of Spanish Inquisition.
(Ye dramatic chord ist heard once more. Sir James and Lord Felix burst in.)
Sir James: NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as: fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to Albion, and nice red uniforms - Oh damn! (To Lord Felix.) I can't say it - you'll have to say it.
Lord Felix: What?
Sir James: You'll have to say the bit about 'Our chief weapons are ...'
Lord Felix: (Rather horrified.) I couldn't do that...
(Sir James rushes Lord Felix off-stage again.)
Twys: (Very flatly.) I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition.
(Dramatic chord. Sir James and Lord Felix enter.)
Lord Felix: Er.... Nobody...um....
Sir James: Expects...
Lord Felix: Expects... Nobody expects the...um...the Spanish...um...
Sir James: Inquisition.
Lord Felix: I know, I know! Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. In fact, those who do expect -
Sir James: Our chief weapons are...
Lord Felix: Our chief weapons are...um...er...
Sir James: Surprise...
Lord Felix: Surprise and --
Sir James: Okay, stop. Stop. Stop there - stop there. Stop. Phew! Ah! ...our chief weapons are surprise...blah blah blah.
Comte : Bring me the Cheddar, Parmesan, Wensleydale and Stilton !
Sir James : Nay Don't tell Me I'm to be .....
Comte : Aye Sir James you are to be " Cheese Boarded "
Yes, I love that sketch. Seen it countless times and I still laugh- mainly at Michael Palin, but Terry Gilliam is hilarious too.
Comte: Bring me the Cheddar, Parmesan, Wensleydale and Stilton!
Twys: Nay! Don't tell me I'm to be.....
Comte: Aye- thou art to be "Cheese Boarded"!
Twys: Thou canst not do that to me- I am a vegan!
Comte: Oh, I see. Better not do that then, don't want to offend anybody. 8-) Nevertheless, my dear, thou shalt tell me ye secret formula for the Bloody Mary!
Twys: Never! Thou canst not make me talk.
Comte: You think not? Now, guard- the rack!
(The Spanish Inquisition scene until...)
Sir James: Our chief weapons are...
Lord Felix: Our chief weapons are...um...er...
Sir James: Surprise...
Lord Felix: Surprise and --
Sir James: Okay, stop. Stop. Stop there - stop there. Stop. Phew! Ah! ...our chief weapons are surprise...blah blah blah. Hey, where did Blofeld go?
Twys: He got fed up listening to you- he's buggered off!
Sir James: Oh. Then I guess we must do the same- to London, apace, I must consult with M!
Sir Gareth: ... so ye Comte de Blofeld hast escaped... again?
Sir James: Aye, mine liege, 'tis true- but not with ye formula for ye "Bloody Mary".
Lord Felix: For Apothecary Knightley did not reveal it to him.
Sir James: And from what I hear, Red Nicola ist doing very well without using said formula. Scotland doth belong to her, in ye most part, and statistically she doth outnumber Lord Boris and all others.
Sir Gareth: What, then, do you suggest we do, Naught Naught Seven?
Sir James: 'Tis my opinion we do nothing, sire. Sure I am that there will be some constitutional balls-up to prevent ye Scots from breaking away, at least for many years.
Lord Felix: Hmm...
Sir Gareth: Then let it be so... for ye moment. We shall not look into the matter any more.
Sir James: Aye, mine liege. This is... no time to pry.
Lord Felix: Oh, no...
Sir Gareth: I thought I told you to stop doing that.
Sir James: Oh yes, mine apologies.
Maid Moneypenny: Sir Gareth, Apothecary Knightley awaits outside.
Sir Gareth: Show her in, Maid Moneypenny, and I prithee join us.
(Maid Moneypenny and Apothecary Knightley enter.)
Sir Gareth: Apothecary Knightley, mine thanks for all thine help to Naught Naught Seven during this mission.
Twys: Mine pleasure, Sir Gareth.
Sir Gareth: Methinks 'tis time for a drink to celebrate!
Sir James: Thine predecessor kept Bourbon in...
Sir Gareth: I prefer wine. Maid Moneypenny, please do the honours.
Maid Moneypenny: Of course. Sir James, would thee prefer sweet or dry?
Sir James: Why, sweet of course- 'tis no time to dry.
(All present throw things at Sir James.)
April
Lord Felix: We must away, and tarry not, for this is a matter of much urgency.
Sir James: Hath no fears old friend, 'twould take a foul oriental disease to get the better of me.
(Eight months later they set off.)
Lord Felix: Sir James, that be'eth the worst case of man flu I hath ever seen.
Now, that needs to get fitted in somewhere!
Sir Gareth: Over here, Naught Naught Seven. Sit ye down.
Sir James: (Looking around, puzzled.) Greetings, mine liege, but... where ist Maid Moneypenny? I was looking forward to some witty and not at all sexist banter before reporting to thee.
Sir Gareth: Maid Moneypenny hast chosen to be working from home at this time.
Sir James: Working from home?
Sir Gareth: Aye, and that ist what I do wish to see thee about. It is my wish that thou should do ye same for the foreseeable future.
Sir James: What? Me work from home?
Sir Gareth: 'Tis so. I shalt arrange for a number of willing maidens, at least one seemingly unbeatable henchman, and thine carriage, made by ye DB5th Earl of Aston and the Viscount Martin, to be delivered to thine abode.
Sir James: But, sire....
Sir Gareth: Oh, and of course a large supply of mead, but thou will have to shake and not stir it thineself.
Sir James: Of course, mine liege, if this be thine desire. I shalt get to work straight away!
Sir Gareth: No rush, Naught Naught Seven.
Sir James: (Bewildered.) No rush?
Sir Gareth: Aye. (Sighs heavily.) Thou cannot start until ye twelfth day of November.
Sir James: Ye twelfth of November????
Sir Gareth: 'Tis so. Now, on thine way, Naught Naught Seven.... but take thine time.
Perhaps sir James should comment how he usually travels to exotic places and hardly ever lives at home - sleeping there happens even more seldom. In fact his abode is barely furnished (just a bar and a bed) and he's not even sure of the address. Can he even find it?
Sir James: Hmm, now sure I am that mine abode ist here somewhere... Perhaps this one?
(Sir James alights from his carriage and goes to a door marked "221B". A man with a moustache, carrying an old-fashioned doctor's bag, answers ye door.)
Man: Yes?
Sir James: Mine pardon, I did think that this wast mine house.
Man: Nay, I think that thou art-
2nd Man: Let me see, Watson.
(Ye first man groans slightly as a tall thin man smoking a pipe walks forward.)
2nd Man: I see from thine attire that thou wert once a sailor, but now work for, shall we say, an unspecified department in ye Ministry of Defence. And thine father was a Scot and thine mother Swiss. Thine carriage hast been modified in unusual ways- one of ye seats ist on springs, for example- and under thine left arm ist a holster holding a firearm, most probably made by ye Walther company.
Sir James: 'Tis true, but at ye moment I do seek-
2nd Man: For breakfast thou didst have scrambled eggs, and last night though didst consume rather too many glasses of mead, shaken but not stirred. Furthermore, thou wert with a woman in her early twenties with long red hair, an unusually long tongue, missing one of her stockings, about five foot five inches, with loose morals and a father complex. She didst enjoy taking-
Watson: Enough, Holmes. This man ist merely seeking his abode.
Holmes: Oh, right. Take ye the first on the right, then second left.
Sir James: I thank'ee.
(Sir James heads back to his carriage.)
Watson: (Voice fading as Sir James leaves.) Really, Holmes, I wish you wouldn't...
Sir James: Hmm, first right then second left...
(Sir James arrives at his abode.)
Sir James: Ah, here we are. 'Tis very rare that I am here, what with me spending so much time travelling to exotic places.
(He enters to a very bare apartment, containing only a bed and a bar.)
Sir James: Home sweet home. I hardly ever live at home - sleeping there happens even more seldom.
(He kicks off his shoes, removes his doublet and heads to ye bar.)
Sir James: Now, let me see...? Oh yes- Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of-
(There ist a knock at ye door.)
Sir James: Who ist there?
Voice: Snow White.
Sir James: With or without ye dwarves?
Voice: Without.
(Sir James opens ye door, to reveal...)
Sir James: Lord Felix!
Lord Felix: I bid thee greetings, Sir James.
Sir James: Normally, I wouldst embrace ye warmly-
Lord Felix: (Ruefully.) Or punch me in mine stomach.
Sir James: ...but in these times that ist frowned upon. Let us do ye new plague greeting!
Lord Felix: But of course.
(Awkwardly they bump elbows. Then heels, followed by a knee bump and a medium headbutt.)
Sir James: And what brings ye here, to mine abode?
Lord Felix: Ah, 'tis a matter of importance. We must away, and tarry not for this ist a matter of great urgency.
Sir James: Alack, not till ye twelfth day of November shalt we depart.
Lord Felix: Surely thou art not serious?
Sir James: Most serious, and call me Shirley not.
Lord Felix: Then I must depart alone- farewell, Sir James, I hope to see thee soon.
Sir James: ...but in these times that ist frowned upon. Let us do the new plague greeeting.
Lord Felix: But of course.
Sir Gareth : Good Maid Moneypenny, the young Wizard hath begun using a new word, for which
I hath never heard before " contagious" ? Could ye explain, so I may better understand ?
Maid Moneypenny : Aye, my lord this a new scientific word. Which doth mean how the plague can spread across our realm.
Sir Gareth : most interesting ..
( enter Sir James, looking at a new sword .... )
Sir Gareth : Ah ! Sit James, could ye use the
Term " contagious " in a sentence for us ?
Sir James: Aye, I did ask the young Wizard for
A new sword and to comply with my request it
Took the " contagious " !
Please explain it to me …. ( in a PM if it's worse than PG)
Very, very, very old joke.
(Lord Felix makes his leave. Sir James returns to ye bar.)
Sir James: Now, where was I...? Oh yes- Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of-
(There is another knock on ye door.)
Sir James: Oh, blast!
(Sir James opens ye door to find a figure dressed all in white paper, with a mask covering the lower half of its face.)
Sir James: Aye?
Figure: Mmmf knff ummf tmm thkkk.
Sir James: What?
(The figure pulls down its facemask.)
William of Tanner: Greetings, Naught Naught Seven, 'tis I.
Sir James: Tanner! What hath brought thee to mine abode?
William of Tanner: Sent have I been by ye Young Wizard to bring thee this parcel.
Sir James: Ah, 'tis mine new sword, I have no doubt.
William of Tanner: He hath begun using a new word, for which I hath never heard before- "contagious". Could ye explain, so I may better understand?
Sir James : Aye, this a new scientific word which doth mean how the plague can spread across our realm.
William of Tanner: Most interesting .. could ye use the term " contagious " in a sentence for us?
Sir James: Aye, I did ask the Young Wizard for this new sword and to comply with my request it took the "contagious"!
William of Tanner: Huh? Kva? Brukar me engelsk? Please explain it to me ….
Sir James: (Impatiently.) It took the cu-
William of Tanner: Ah! I get it now, no need to tell me 24 times.
Sir James:
William of Tanner: Well, 'tis new to me. Now, Naught Naught Seven, I had best be on my way.
(William of Tanner makes his leave. Sir James returns to ye bar, again.)
Sir James: I'll get this drink yet. Now, six measures of-