Reginald Iolanthe Perrin
In the first episode of 'The Legacy Of Reginald Perrin', we learn that Reggie has been killed by a falling billboard, ironically advertising the very life assurance company with which he was insured. Elizabeth, Jimmy, Tom & Linda, C.J., David & Prue, Joan, and Doc Morrissey have all been requested to attend the reading of the will at the office of Geraldine Hackstraw, a senior partner at the firm of solicitors Hackstraw, Lovelace and Venison. Reggie has, however, left rather a lot of money to his family and friends - on one condition.
Battersea Dogs Home is a splendid organisation. But to leave one's money to it would be a cliche, and to me cliches are like a red rag to a bird in the hand, as C.J. might say. I would prefer to leave my money to more original causes: to form a society to provide free psychiatric help to guilt-ridden, overpaid bosses of privatised industries, to expand the Legal Aid system so that it can reach the needy as well as the rich and to provide minibuses so that rich, privileged children can take depressed underpaid English cricketers to the seaside. But I won't.
I leave all my worldly possessions to my dear, beloved, lovely wife Elizabeth. And to her intellectually-deprived, emotionally- disadvantaged brother Jimmy (who will no doubt need it as there will no doubt have been a cock-up on the pensions front). And to my dear, dear daughter Linda who has supported me through thick and even thicker and who will need all the help she can get after her marriage to that dreadful arse Tom. I love him dearly and I'm sorry his marriage broke up. It's not his fault he's a dreadful arse.
To Doc Morrissey who, as he gets older, will no doubt need to buy lots of medical books to find out what's wrong with him. To my dear secretary Joan who had so much to put up with from me, and did so much for me. To C.J. I hated him once, but time is a great healer. And last, but least, to David Harris-Jones and his wife Prue. I have only one word to describe my relationship with David and Prue - super.
To them all, I leave all my worldly goods to be divided EQUALLY (counting David and Prue as one unit, as the self-satisfied twits are always proclaiming that "togetherness is their middle name.") The monies dependent on one condition being fulfilled - one, very small, condition: each and every one of you must completely satisfy Ms. Hackstraw that you have done something totally and utterly absurd. I know that this condition will cause you consternation but you must agree that it is entirely appropriate, since the money you will be receiving will have come very largely from the profits and eventual sale of my Grot empire of rubbish stores, sums which have been largely invested since the late Seventies in the Channel Isles, the Isle of Man, Bermuda, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, in fact almost everywhere except Lloyd's of London (who's a shrewdie then?!). I'm sorry, Elizabeth, that I never told you - I didn't want us to live on it. Life wouldn't have been a challenge anymore, and Grot was never intended to make money anyway.
The decision as to whether you have been sufficiently absurd rests entirely with the beautiful Ms. Hackstraw, who's cold exterior no doubt hides a seething, passionate nature. She has to read this out, though it embarrasses her, while also secretly pleasing her because she's quite vain. Otherwise all the money WILL go to the Battersea Dogs Home. By gamely reading it out I hope she has shown you that she is not to be feared as your ultimate judge. You must contact her with progress reports and any evidence of absurdness achieved once every three months until probate is completed.
This is the last will, testament and commentary on the absurdity of life of Reginald Iolanthe Perrin."