In 1972, an arse crack commando unit was sent to prison by a medical court for a haemorrhoid cream they didn't commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underpants. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as Soldiers of fart tunes. If you have a piles problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire.... the preparation H-Team
In a quiet cobbled street in London, England, Mr Kraplings, the much loved confectionary and cake shop opens for business. Young sales assistant Rudi Schlong is busy slicing off the tops of cup cakes and applying butter cream to create some delightful angel cakes. Suddenly the sound of a bell rings as the shop door opens and a strange figure enters the shop.
Young Rudi stops what he's doing and stares open mouthed at the man in front of him. He recognises him from the television that he so gleefully watches during the hour break of his 23 hour day at Kraplings. It's Lord, Sir, King Alan Sugar, the angry man from the Apprentice and true to form Count Alan is very angry.
Sugar - What the bladdy 'ell are you starin' at? If you was workin' for me you'd be FIRED for bein a gormless little twat.
Rudi - S-s-s-s- sorry your majesty. Please forgive me. How could I possible make amends for my most gravest of errors?
Sugar - Shaddap you snivillin' little tosspot and get me the most expensive cake you've got on your shelves and I'll do a deal with you.
Rudi - Y-y-y-y-yes president Sugar. I'll get that for you right now.
Young Schlong opens the till and lifts up the tray of cash. He retrieves a key and shuffles towards a glass cabinet that sits proudly in the centre of the shop. 'Krapling's Finest Fondant Fancy' reads the sign on top the cabinet. 'Only To Be Opened if either the Queen, Winston Churchill or Alan Sugar enter the shop'. He opens the door and carefully removes a small square, off-white cake with some chocolate squiggles on it and returns to the counter.
Rudi - H-h-h-here is Mr Krapling's most prized possession your Highness. The Fondant Fancy of Eternal Youth. Legend has it that anyone who takes a bite of this masterpiece of sugar and flour and stuff will live never grow old and live for 1000 years.
Sugar - 'Ow bladdy much then?
Rudi - T-t-t-t-two hundred pounds and a clapped out old Rolls Royce Silver Shadow with the registration AMS 1.
Sugar - You're 'avin' a bleedin' laugh aint you? I 'aven't made my millions spendin' that kind of dosh on magical confectionary. I'll give yer a ton fifty plus you can 'ave the Roller but I aint 'avin' cleaned for yer.
Rudi - Th-th-th-that's a deal your Holiness.
Sugar - Great, now give me the fackin' cake.
And with that, the Emperor swallowed it down with one gulp and left.
Half an hour later the door to Mr Kraplings burst open and an angry Alan Sugar storms into the shop.
Sugar - Fack me. What the fack was in that fackin' fondant fancy you fackin little nonce?
Rudi - W-w-w-well Sir it contained monosodium glutamate, artificial colourings, yeast extract, sugar and rat droppings.
Sugar - You little facker. Why didn't you tell me that before I stuffed it in me North and South? Everybody knows that rat turds plays 'avoc with me IBS. Now me Nobby Stiles are the size of facin' balloons. Me Emma Freud's are bigger than Jordans tits. Me FACKIN' 'AEMORRHOIDS ARE ABOUT TO BURST.
Rudi - What can I do to save you Dame Alan?
Sugar - 'Ere call this number. Its me last 'ope but this is a job for the H Team.
Ten minutes later the sound of machine gun fire can be heard outside the shop. Suddenly there's a loud explosion and the front door of Mr Kraplings is blown off its hinges.
As the dust settles four men stride through the entrance of the shop.
Hannibal - So what have we here?
Face - Looks like we've got a swelling that could blow any second. This is going to be a tricky one.
Hannibal - Hey shop boy. I need you to do something. Could you go out the back of your shop and mix some flour and margarine in a bowl until it resembles breadcrumbs, mix in a drop of water so it becomes dough, then roll it out on a lightly floured surface before you line it in a tin. Then bake it for five minutes, fill it with a compote of fruit, cook for another 30 minute and decorate with strawberries and fresh cream.
Rudi - Yes Mr Hannibal Sir, will do it right away.
Hannibal - That's good because I love it when a flan comes together.
Mr T - Crazy old fool
An hour later the team have finished their delicious summer fruits flan and get to work.
Murdoch - You know what we need to do? We need to connect that till up to that PC over there and then wire it up to that PC in the stockroom.
Mr T - What do you wanna go and do that for you crazy fool?
Murdoch - Well, then we'll have created a Local Area Network and we can all communicate to each other when we're in different areas of the shop.
Hannibal - That's right. And I love it when a LAN comes together.
Face - Ok I see where this is going. We could do with some help though. How about asking that group of guys outside the shop dressed in white gowns and white pointy hats, carrying that burning crucifix and pointing angrily at BA over here.
Hannibal - Hey yeah lets ask them. Afterall I love it when a Klan comes together.
Mr T - What??
Hannibal - No sorry BA I don't love that.
Mr T - I'll introduce you to my friend 'PAIN' if you carry on like that.
Murdoch - Hey those guys are going and some other guys have turned up. They're all wearing kilts, have got ginger hair and carrying bagpipes. They're coming into the shop.
Hamish McGregor - Och aye. We're from a long way away, beyond the hills in a mystical land called Scotland. We've come to London to meet a long lost relative called Euan so the McGregor family can get back together again.
Hannibal - Great. I haven't got a clue what these guys are saying but I love it when a Clan comes together.
Hamish - Anyway, aren't you the H team?
Face - Why yes we are fine sirs. You've heard of us?
Hamish - Och aye. We didnae believe you existed but now we've met you can you help us all out?
Murdoch - We can try. What's the problem?
Hamish - Well, being Scottish we all have crippling drug problems and we're all addicted to heroin. I don't suppose you can give us some if you've got any going spare?
Hannibal - Hold on? We're the H Team not the H team. Our H stands for Haemorrhoids not Heroin. I think you've got us confused.
Hamish - Aye you could be right. We were hoping the writer would have gone with his original idea of basing this whole scenario around you lot being addicted to smack rather than relieving the arses of famous Cockneys. For example Face could have been renamed 'Off-his Face'. Mr T could have been called Mr T-watted. That's about all I've got but it could have worked with a bit more thought.
Mr T - Crazy fool. The message we give to the kids is 'Don't do drugs and go to school'.
Suddenly another Scottish person enters the shop. Ex footballer and TV pundit Alan Hansen
Alan Hansen - Aye that's right and I'd just like to point out that not all Scottish people are addicted to class A drugs. Some of us have managed to get jobs you know. Hey, isn't that Alan Sugar bent down in the corner of the shop with his hairy arse in the air?
Sugar - Yes it fackin is. Now will somebody please put some fackin' ointment on me fackin Nobbys?
Alan Hansen - Yes, I'll do it...... How does that feel?
Sugar - Fackin amazin'. Now come 'ere and give me a hug you dirty old Jock?
Hannibal - What a happy ending. I love it Alans come together.