-----------------------------------------Opening Credits------------------------------------------------------------------------REPORTER: Little pig, little pig, can I come in?
FIRST PIG: Who’s that?
REPORTER: Colin Millar, Sunday Times
FIRST PIG: Not a wolf?
REPORTER: No
FIRST PIG: Promise?
REPORTER: Yes
FIRST PIG: Sure, come on in.
REPORTER: So, why did you choose to build your house out of straw?
FIRST PIG: Well, I’ve never built a house before, certainly not one designed to withstand wolf attack, but I have read a lot of stories. And in stories it’s always the youngest brother with the humblest approach that wins the day
REPORTER: And that’s why you didn’t go for twigs, or bricks?
FIRST PIG: That’s right. Anyone who’s read a story knows those stronger houses will be destroyed, and only my humble straw house will defeat the wolf in an unexpected way
REPORTER: Like what?
FIRST PIG: I dunno. Hayfever?
REPORTER: I see, well - good luckREPORTER: Little pig, little pig, may I come in?
SECOND PIG: Of course, welcome
REPORTER: So why did you choose to build your house out of twigs?
SECOND PIG: Well, I’ve never built a house before, but I have read a lot of stories, and in stories it’s always the compromise between the two extremes that wins the day
REPORTER: So that’s why you didn’t go for straw or bricks?
SECOND PIG: That’s right. Anyone who’s ever read a story knows the straw will be too weak and the bricks will be too strong
REPORTER: How…will the bricks be too strong?
SECOND PIG: I dunno. Subsidence?
REPORTER: I see. Well, good luckREPORTER: Little pig, little pig, may I come in?
THIRD PIG: Yeah, but what’s wrong with the doorbell?
REPORTER: Oh. (rings doorbell) Nothing.
THIRD PIG: Right, in you come then
REPORTER: So, why did you choose to build your house of bricks?
THIRD PIG: ….because it’s a house?
REPORTER: Right, and that’s why you didn’t go for straw or twigs?
THIRD PIG: Well, that didn’t even really cross my mind.
REPORTER: Right, well, I’ve spoken to your brothers, and they both say that in stories-THIRD PIG: Yeah, well I’ve never read a story, but I have seen a lot of houses. And they’re usually built of bricks, so…I’ve built this house out of bricksREPORTER: Aren’t you afraid the apparent stability of the bricks makes them all the more at risk from a narrative twist?
THIRD PIG: …No. Are you afraid of that with your house?
THIRD PIG: Well then
REPORTER: So you’re sure the wolf won’t be able to blow your house down?
THIRD PIG: …blow it down? What, with his breath?
REPORTER: No, I just-
THIRD PIG: Look, basically what I’ve done is…build a house. Robert has built a kind of ethnic hut, which is nice. I don’t even know what Ethan thinks he’s built, an art installation? I mean, never mind a wolf, he’s in trouble if it rains. This is a house. Well, it’s getting late, the wolf will be here soon. Are you off?
REPORTER: Uh…
THIRD PIG: I thought you might want to stay with one of the other guys. With their “narrative protection”
REPORTER: Actually, if it’s alright I might stay here
THIRD PIG: Well, blow me down.ANNOUNCER: RAF Corfe Mullen, Top Secret Air Ministry Research Station, June the 3rd 1940.
WING COMMANDER: Prime Minister
CHURCHILL: Wing Commander. I trust you have good news for me
WING COMMANDER: I hope so, sir. If you’ll follow me. You’ll be aware, sir, that we’ve been putting out the story that our fighter pilots are on a strict diet of carrots, and the resultant Vitamin A boost is improving their eyesight and allowing them to see in the dark.
CHURCHILL: Yes, rather childish nonsense, isn’t it?
WING COMMANDER: Of course
CHURCHILL: And are the Germans falling for it?
WING COMMANDER: No, sir. No, we think that they have discovered that this is merely a cover for Mr Watson-Watt’s experiments with electro-magnetic waves, the so-called “radar” system.
CHURCHILL: Indeed. And are they falling for that?
WING COMMANDER: Well, sir, as far as we can tell - we think they are.
CHURCHILL: Excellent. Whereas the truth is…
WING COMMANDER: The truth, sir, lies behind these doors
(opens doors, cats miaow)
CHURCHILL: Ah, a room full of cats, just as I thought.
WING COMMANDER: As you thought, sir?
CHURCHILL: What other explanation could there be? Suddenly our crews can inexplicably see in the dark? To the thinking man there is but one explanation - clearly you are training cats as navigators
WING COMMANDER: You’re a great man, sir, and we’re lucky to have you. Yes, sir, we are. After all, we have long used dogs in the military, cats are not only far more intelligent but have exceptionally good night sight. Let us give you a demonstration. Chovers!
CHOVERS: Uh, yes, sir. Hello, sir
WING COMMANDER: Bring me Flight Navigation Officer Sooty
CHOVERS: Right away, sir. Here he is, sir
SOOTY: Miaow
WING COMMANDER: Put him through his paces, Chovers
CHOVERS: Yes, sir. (unfolds map) Alright, Sooty. Don’t let me down, old chap. Church with a spire.
SOOTY: Miaow (places paw on map)
CHOVERS: Church with a steeple
CHOVERS: Well done!
CHURCHILL: May I?
CHOVERS: Uh, please
CHURCHILL: Bridal path permitted for public use
SOOTY: Miaow (places paw on map) Miaow (places paw on map) Miaow (places paw on map)
CHURCHILL: The Krupp Munitions Factory near Essen
SOOTY: (yawns)CHURCHILL: Well, can’t he do that? That’s what we need! CHOVERS: Well he can, sir, but -
WING COMMANDER: It is the one drawback, sir. we’re used to working with dogs, of course. And dogs love us and want us to do well. Cats are indifferent to us and don’t care if we die. So we have to keep a constant reward system in operation. Chovers, rub the navigation officer’s tummy
CHOVERS: Yes, sir
SOOTY: (purrs)
CHURCHILL: But this is ludicrous, man! We can’t have our pilots breaking off a dogfight every ten minutes to rub the navigator’s tum-tum
SOOTY: (hisses)
WING COMMANDER: Actually, Prime Minister, we’re not calling them “dogfights” anymore. It does seem to be paying off, sir. And so tomorrow night, Prime Minister, we would like, for the first time, to send a Spitfire squadron into action against the enemy, navigated entirely by cats. Do we have your permission, sir?
CHURCHILL: I suppose so. What do you call this method, by the way?
WING COMMANDER: Feline navigation system, sir. Or, for short, CatNav
CHURCHILL: Good jobPRESENTER: This week I’m talking to Andrew Wilson, Professor of Biogenetics at the University of York, and tireless champion of the Theory of Evolution. Good evening
WILSON: Good evening. If I may though, the fact of evolution - it’s no longer considered a theoryPRESENTER: Perhaps not by you…
WILSON: Not by any competent authority. Those who contest it are either under informed or willfully ignoring the evidence. The proven scientific fact is that almost all life on Earth is the result of cumulative change resulting from random mutation of the genes
PRESENTER: Almost all?
WILSON: That’s right, yes
PRESENTER: You mean there are exceptions?
WILSON: Not significant exceptions, no
PRESENTER: But there are?
WILSON: Yes, but the overwhelming-
PRESENTER: I’m sorry, I’m going to have to press you on this - what are the exceptions?
WILSON: …..hummingbirds
PRESENTER: Hummingbirds?
WILSON: Yes, I think God probably made the hummingbirds. But that’s all!
PRESENTER: Why hummingbirds?
WILSON: Well, look, a scientist must take each case on its merits, free from prejudice. And I have to admit that hummingbirds…. Have you seen one? They’re amazing! They beat their wings eighty times a second. They can fly backwards! They can’t have just happened by accident, so in this extremely unusual case the most credible explanation is that they were formed by a superhuman creative intelligence.
PRESENTER: God?
WILSON: Well you can call it what you like…
PRESENTER: Can you call it God?
WILSON: Yes. But, look - this is the exception that proves the rule
PRESENTER: The rule that God doesn’t exist?
WILSON: Look, what I believe - what I believe is that the overwhelming majority of all life that has ever existed came about by the blind application of natural selection upon replicating entities. All God did was make the hummingbirds. And Elizabeth Roberts.
PRESENTER: Who?
WILSON: My granddaughter. She happens to be the other exception
PRESENTER: God made your granddaughter?
WILSON: Yeah, I know it’s a coincidence, I know. But as a conscientious scientist I have to record that when my daughter recently gave birth it was immediately obvious God had come out of retirement to try to top the hummingbirds
PRESENTER: How can you tell?
WILSON: You just have to look at her. Her little chubby feet alone rule out the possibility she randomly descended from a pre-Neolithic hominid like the rest of us did.
PRESENTER: And Elizabeth is the only exception - you never felt this way about your daughter, for instance?
WILSON: No, no, the hominid explanation works fine for her.
PRESENTER: So, now you’ve discovered all this, Professor, what next?
WILSON: Well, I’m publishing a new book in the autumn: “Intelligent Deceit, The Tyranny of Superstition”, and I am founding a very small church.
PRESENTER: How small?
WILSON: It’s basically a Wendy church. QUESTIONING MAN: Ah, Monsieur Voltaire, est-ce vous?
VOLTAIRE: Oui, monsieur, c’est moi, Voltaire. Bonjour!
SIMON KANE: Are we doing this whole sketch in French?
VOLTAIRE: Assuredly not!
QUESTIONING MAN: Are we doing this whole sketch in outrageous French accents?
VOLTAIRE: Assuredly mais oui, bien sur! Permit me to introduce to you my friends. This is the quick tempered Comte Guy de Lombard, the finest swordsman in all of France, and a man who’s accent is if anything even more outrageous than our own.
DeLOMBARD: Charmed to make your acquaintance, monsieur!
QUESTIONING MAN: Dieu, I see what you mean
VOLTAIRE: And this is my English friend, Mr Simon Kane. Who does not want to do the outrageous French accent
SIMON KANE: I just think if we’re doing the voices we should do them pr-
VOLTAIRE: And hence will be getting no more lines!
SIMON KANE: Oh come on-
VOLTAIRE: Silence! Now, mon ami, what can I do for you?
QUESTIONING MAN: I am not your ami, mon ami. I wish to know if it is true that you once said “I do not agree with what you say, but I would defend to the death your right to say it.”
VOLTAIRE: Yes, that was one of mine. It is a phrase most elegant, n’est-ce pas?
QUESTIONING MAN: No, n’est-ce pas at all! I think it is a vain and foolish boast, and you would never actually do it
DeLOMBARD: What? You question my friend’s honour to his face? I have killed men for less!
VOLTAIRE: Peace, Guy de Lombard! Monsieur, I do not agree with you when you say that I would not defend to the death your right to say something I did not agree with. But I would defend to the death your right to say it.
SEVERAL: Oh, thank you.
QUESTIONING MAN: Alright, Monsieur Voltaire. I say someone should stab you to death
DeLOMBARD: This time you go to far, you insolent puppy! Take that back or prepare to die
VOLTAIRE: Peace, Guy de Lombard! Our friend is entitled to his view.
DeLOMBARD: I am sorry, Voltaire. But now I have challenged him my honour will not allow me to back down, he must die
VOLTAIRE: Then you will have to kill me first!
DeLOMBARD: …that would be stupid
VOLTAIRE: None the less, I will defend to the death his right to say someone should stab me to death.
DeLOMBARD: I don’t want to fight you, Voltaire, but I will. And remember, I am the finest swordsman in all France.
VOLTAIRE: Oh yes. So you are. Well, bof. Uh… It would be quite a silly way to die, would it not? Very well, on this one occasion, philosophy must make a concession to pragmatism. You two sort it out between you
DeLOMBARD: Wait, wait! You’re going back on your word? You’re not going to defend him to the death?
VOLTAIRE: In this one case most exceptional…no.
DeLOMBARD: But, that makes him right about you. So I have challenged him wrongfully and brought shame upon me for defending you, miserable dog. Honour demands we must duel, prepare to die! (draws sword)
VOLTAIRE: What? Alright fine, I take it back, I will defend him to the death!
DeLOMBARD: Ah, there speaks my noble old friend. Prepare to die! (draws sword) (church bells)FRENCH MAN: And so we say farewell to our friend Voltaire who died, as so many Frenchmen do, in a freak philosophy accident. A tragic loss made perhaps yet more tragic by the cruel irony that Voltaire never actually even said that.
JF: Really?
FRENCH MAN: Yep, it’s a common misattribution. It was actually said by Evelyn Beatrice Hall.
JF: Well I never
FRENCH MAN: Yeah. Also this is what a proper French accent sounds like, soPILOT: Alright, chaps, let’s take the old crate up for a spin, see if we can’t bag ourselves a Jerry. Ready, Archie?
ARCHIE: As I’ll ever be, sir
PILOT: Ready, Lofty?
LOFTY: Yes, sir
PILOT: Ready, Mr Pickles?
MR.PICKLES: MiaowPILOT: Then tally-ho. Right, turn on the CatNav
ARCHIE: Mr Pickles, where to?MR.PICKLES: Miaow
PILOT: Left it is, tally-ho!WING COMMANDER: So you see, sir, it all started terribly well
CHURCHILL: So what the hell went wrong?
WING COMMANDER: Well, as far as we can tell, sir…the cats didn’t realise they were going to be shot at
CHURCHILL: Aah
WING COMMANDER: Yes, it seems that came as a surprise to them and, well, sir…have you ever squirted a cat with water?
CHURCHILL: I have, Wing Commander. It didn’t like it, not one bit
WING COMMANDER: No, sir. Well it seems they like it even less with bullets, sir. And so we now have Spitfires landed in trees and garage roofs all over Switzerland
CHURCHILL: Ye Gods, the whole squadron?
WING COMMANDER: Yes, sir. Well, except for one that didn’t even get as far as Germany and is currently following a mackerel trawler around the North SeaCHURCHILL: And what the hell are you planning to do about this?
WING COMMANDER: Well, we think we can recover the planes, sir. And then, one of our lady boffins has a plan
CHURCHILL: You have lady boffins?
WING COMMANDER: Lovely lady boffins, sirWING COMMANDER: Lady Boffin! Step in here, please
LADY BOFFIN: Good morning, Prime Minister
CHURCHILL: Eugh! I thought you said you had lovely lady boffins?
WING COMMANDER: Oh, yes. Uh, Lady Boffin, take off your glasses
CHURCHILL: Ah. Ooh, yes
LADY BOFFIN: This is my plan, sir
CHURCHILL: Mmmhmm
WING COMMANDER: Lady Boffin, glasses back on, please
CHURCHILL: Oh! Yes, what have you done about these damn scaredy cats?
LADY BOFFIN: A two-pronged strategy, sir. Firstly we’ve modified the flight controls and trained the cats to actually fly the planes as well. That way we need never risk another human life in the air.
CHURCHILL: But dammit, if they’re alone in the aircraft surely they’ll just fly off somewhere safe and comfortable. Nowhere near the Germans
LADY BOFFIN: Hence my second prong. I suddenly realised, sir, that the cats simply saw all humans as the same. They had no idea of the ghastly fight we’re in. So I put them through a series of films and lectures outlining, in simple, cat-comprehensible language, the nature of the Nazi menace
CHURCHIL: And?
WING COMMANDER: The cats were appalled, sir. Lady Boffin was quite right. They had had no idea what they were fighting against. They’re all lined up outside now, sir, ready and eager for the fray.
CHURCHILL: Oh, you now want me to let you launch a squadron of Spitfires navigated and piloted solely by cats, yes?
WING COMMANDER: Yes
LADY BOFFIN: Yes
CHURCHILL: Well, why not - after all, I am very drunk(piano plays) SINGER: Where’ve they gone, all the days of summertime? Who can find, last September’s rose? Where’ve they gone, all the snows of yesteryear? Where have they vanished to, where’ve they gone, do you suppose?
COMPUTER: File not found: “days of summertime”. Invalid search: “last September’s rose”. Address unknown: “all the snows of yesteryear”. Please check your spelling, or else search for “other snows”.
SINGER: How can I once more return, to my youth?
COMPUTER: Please wait. Database updated, search initiated…your route can’t be calculated
SINGER: Where’ve they gone?
COMPUTER: Not in this directory
SINGER: Who can find-
COMPUTER: Unfulfilled request
SINGER: Where’ve they gone, all the girls I used to know?
COMPUTER: Unknown recipients, message failed at this address
SINGER: Is there a point to human strife? Or is it all simply absurd?
COMPUTER: Finding file: “the Meaning of Life”. A fatal error has occurred
BOTH: Please check and retryRADIO MAN: And now on Radio 4 it’s time for The Archers, the way it sounds to people who don’t really listen to The Archers, but you know, sometimes it’s on. And there’s a new arrival at the ball, which doesn’t mean a baby, it just means someone’s come in.
(John Finnemore sings the Archers theme tune, sort of)
JOLLY MAN: Hello, look who’s turned up again
WOMAN: It’s one of the men who always sound tired
TIRED MAN: ‘fraid so, like a bad penny. Hello, one of the men who always sounds jolly, and one of the cosily wry women, which is all of them, except two
JOLLY MAN: Hello. I dare say you could do with a drink
TIRED MAN: Well, I wouldn’t say no
WOMAN: You look like you’ve been in the wars
...
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