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.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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!
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