Written by Skoob1999
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Wednesday, 2 February 2011

image for Up The Buses! - Part Three Blakey On His Way To Stan's On The Number 52. (Not pictured. The bus is pictured. But Blakey was out of focus.)

Act 2 Scene 1

Interior - Blakey's office. Inspector Blake is sitting at his desk reading from a sheaf of paperwork. His expression is one of incredulity. He is talking to himself as he reads...

BLAKEY - Hurrrr! Hurrrrr! They've gotta be 'avin' a larf innit? Sick? Sick? Eighteen staff I've got off on the sick right now. Not one of 'em's genuine. I'll 'ave em. I'll 'ave the bleedin' lot of 'em when they come back. Disciplinary action. That's wot's needed. They only get away wiv it coz of the blinkin' cor blimey unions. Most of 'em's orf chasin' flippin' crumpet. They must think I'm stupid...Nobby Barnes...orf sick with malaria wot he caught orf some sort named Cheryl Cole whilst on a caravan 'oliday at St Leonard's on sea. Aht the paper for a tenner... he must fink I was bloomin' well born yesterday...I'll 'ave 'im! Hurrrr! Hurrrr! Wot's this one? Shorty Mepstead orf wiv a bad back due to too much nooky wiv crumpet in the pub car park...on top of a skip...I'll give him blinkin' cor blimey crumpet up a skip...

(FX - A KNOCK AT THE DOOR.)

BLAKEY - Come!

JACK (from outside) - Do what?

BLAKEY - Come inside you idiot! Hurrrr! Hurrr!

(ENTER JACK - SMOKING A CIGARETTE AND STRIKING POSES LIKE A PROPER CHIRPY COCKNEY CHAPPIE)

(CUE HYSTERICAL CANNED LAUGHTER.)

JACK - Mornin' Inspector Blake. Apologies for the confusion there, but when you said 'Come' it got me finkin' abaht the bit o' crumpet I 'ad larst night in that field up by the lido. She was a right blinkin' goer, so I thought I'd best check me strides for stains. Nudge nudge.

BLAKEY - Did you want summink Jack? Coz I don't really 'ave much time to listen to your crumpet related meanderings. Eighteen essential staff have reported in sick, wiv everything from white finger to bleedin' Lassa Fever...

JACK - Oh. I didn't realise that. Don't tell me Nobby Barnes has got the blinkin' malaria again...

BLAKEY - Funny you should say that...

JACK - Who'd he get it orf this time? Larst time he got malaria, he said he'd got it orf some sort called Kerry Katona on a stag weekend up that Blackpool! He's a right case is Nobby. I dunno how he gets away wiv it...

BLAKEY - Probably you being his shop steward has summink to do wiv it...

JACK - Ere...if you're sayin' wot I fink you might be sayin' - you wanna watch it mate. We've 'ad all out strikes for less than that...

BLAKEY (Panicking!) - Leave it aht Jack. I've got a chronic staff shortage already - I've had to cancel the free Asda bus, and Asda ain't even been invented yet!

JACK - Nah Blakey - It's abaht Stan...

BLAKEY - Butler? The crumpet cruncher? Wot's he been up to now then? Don't for Gawd's sake tell me he's put another blinkin' clippie up the pudd'n club! He's crumpet mad that bloke. I've already got seven clippies orf on maternity leave! And all in the blinkin' name of crumpet dahn the pub, up the chippy, and up against skips. I hate Butler...

JACK - Summink like that. He won't be in today. Done his back in he has. Terrible agony he's in. Terrible...

BLAKEY - Oh Gawd! I bet it's all to do wiv blinkin' crumpet innit? Nah, nah, don't tell me. It's to do wiv bleedin' crumpet. Couldn't be to do wiv anyfing else knowing Butler...Crumpet mad he is...but the least he could have done was phone in...

JACK - Blakey...this is 1972, remember? Not everybody has a phone.

BLAKEY (Eyes narrowing in abject fury) - Then I shall call at his arse personally to see how he is...

JACK - His arse? What do you wanna call at his arse for? I mean, it ain't like you'll get an echo back or anything...

(CUE HYSTERICAL CANNED LAUGHTER AS JACK MILKS THE MOMENT)

BLAKEY - When I say is arse - you know perfectly well wot I mean. I mean his house. It's coz I is a cockney innit that I sez house like arse...

(BLAKEY APPEARS TO HAVE AN ONSET OF DIZZINESS. HE HAS TO STEADY HIMSELF.)

JACK - 'Ere Blakey, are you all right?

BLAKEY - Erm...yeah...course I am you twonk...it's just that...

JACK - Just wot Blakey? Wot's up?

BLAKEY (STUNNED, DREAMILY) - I just had a premonition...saw meself thirty years in the future playing a miserable narrow-gutted wanker named Smiler in Last Of The Summer Wine. With Hilda Ogden off Corrie...

JACK - Wiv all due respect Blakey - maybe you should go home sick yourself. Either that or go and chase some crumpet. You don't look very well mate.

BLAKEY - Phew. Thanks Jack. You ain't such a bad geezer for an out and out fanny hound - but I'm gonna pay Butler a home visit. Just to wish him well and convey that I hope his crumpet damaged spinal column makes a speedy recovery....Hurrrr! Hurrrrr! I hate Butler!

FADE.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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