Original subtitles

Multi -millionaire Terence Twiggy Rathbone has bought the Daily Crucible

newspaper and appointed Russell Spam as its new aggressive editor, while former

editor Harry Stringer has been rehoused in the office lift.

Reporter Greg Kettle, meanwhile, has discovered ex -Soviet leader Nikita

Khrushchev alive in Switzerland.

What would you like, Mr. Rathbone?

I think I'll have the Chattoria Maritimo.

That's the restaurant, sir.

Yes, that's what I'll have.

Well... Acquisitive as ever, Adrian.

You know, I often think it's a good thing that the government don't find out

about your little business manoeuvres.

Quite so, Prime Minister.

Talking of which, Mr. Rathbone...

There was the most extraordinary demonstrations going on down in the

we came in.

Something about cheap labour in your South American mind.

Propaganda, Mrs McNamara. Left -wing crazies at work.

Well, it says here, some of your labourers are digging the mineral out of

rocks with their bare hands.

I believe in a return to Victorian values.

Yes, of course. It's just that, well, in a uranium mine... Health risks are

minimised, Prime Minister.

Every worker is issued with his own asbestos suit.

Yes.

Anyway, you've made it into Queen Street at last, I see.

The newspapers are the cow dung in the field of communications, Mrs. McNamara,

but they have their uses.

Unpredictable, these two.

Take our bill next week on the restoration of capital punishment.

Signs are it's going to be a very close thing.

All it needs is a slight nudge in public opinion.

I think I catch your drift, Franklin.

Of course, I have no control over the Daily Crucible's political view. Oh,

whatever.

I have no control over any inquiry into South American operations when it comes

to that.

No, no, no, I'm quite sure that your record on human rights is utterly

blemish.

What would you like to start with, Russ?

A

good

journalist knows how to protect his story, Harry. There's some right

Fleet Street these days.

I still say this is madness, Russ.

Everyone knows Khrushchev died in 1971.

In obscurity.

What proof did the world ever have that he was really dead?

Oh, for God's sake, Russell.

Why don't we say we found Trotsky and Rasputin as well at McDonald's?

Mr. Newstead?

Is he still alive?

I'm not disgusted. It didn't seem rather personal.

He does look a bit like Chris Chopper, doesn't he?

But we've still got to prove it, Russell.

We've got to have hard evidence.

We'll have the evidence, Harry.

If this checks out, it won't be dynamite, it'll be thermonuclear.

Get it to tell us everything.

Politics, the power, the passion.

Born again, Supremo spills sex secrets.

Russell Reed, black from dead red.

Lift lid on loves and lust.

There's never been a story like it.

I'm impressed, Russell. You've certainly done your homework on this one.

They've been over it with a fine -toothed scalpel, sir.

Every square molecule of it. The man is crucial.

You're looking queasy, Harry. What's the matter?

Well, these Sovietologists certainly argue a cogent case, I agree, but I

pretend I don't have reservations.

Reservations are the condoms in the birth of new ideas, Harry.

When I take over a business, I take the back seat. Right, Russell?

Right, sir.

Your policy of less affair is a beacon of inspiration to all Fleet Street.

People are calling you the new Roy Thompson.

I trust that man implicitly, Harry. He's young, he's new, he has a fresh view.

He can smell a soup when he sees one.

Just to warn you, Stampede 7, the Iran -Iraq peace initiative, it's been

Yeah, there's a replacement on its way.

Love -tug budgie and millet -dope riddle.

You know,

I think I may have managed to convince myself, Max.

What about Khrushchev?

After all, the most distinguished...

experts in the country are prepared to go on the record?

Maybe I've misjudged Spam.

I mean, perhaps, deep down, he's actually a... My godfathers, what are

Artwork samples for the hanging spread.

Hanging spread? What hanging spread?

New rush job to coincide with the Commons vote on Monday. There's the memo

Spam.

Should we reinstate the rope for rippers?

or let homicidal psychopaths prowl the streets on probation, the crucible

carefully considers both sides of the issue.

Who's on this, as if I didn't know?

Kettle and Bill Titler left a couple of hours ago.

Greg says something about a brilliant new angle he wanted to chase up. You

haven't put young Titler onto a story with Greg Kettle?

And I had such high hopes for that boy.

We've come here to talk to the relatives of a murder victim, is that right? Not

the relatives of a murder victim, no.

The friend of a murder victim?

Not exactly the friend of a murder victim, no.

We have come here to talk to the murder victim.

The murder victim is dead.

A dead person talked to us.

Hello? Is there anybody there?

Mrs Gladys Tate, Greg Kettle of Her Majesty's Press. We spoke on the phone.

Everything is ready. I'm on the second floor.

Now, remember, this woman is a very big medium.

We are about to enter a haven of peace and transcendental reverence.

Yes, I think the spirits are receptive, Mr Kettle. Whom is it you wish to speak

to? I'd like to call up first Mr Edward Daintree, who was hacked to death by the

Butcher of Burns.

He is here. Mr Daintree is with us now.

Edward Daintree, there is one here who would speak with you.

Will you respond?

Go ahead, please.

Good morning, Mr Daintree.

Sorry to drag you down here.

We're doing a background piece on the rights and wrongs of the death penalty

convicted murderers.

Now, you were horribly disemboweled by one of these people.

I believe at one point your head was cut off with a bread knife.

Do you think that a ten or fifteen year prison sentence is adequate for this

sort of grisly crime?

Uh -huh.

Yes?

Would you?

I guess not.

Right. Well, thank you very much indeed, then, Mr. Daydream.

Was there anything you wanted to ask?

Uh, no. I think that's covered most of my points.

Well, thank you very much, then, Mrs. Tagpa.

Next, I wonder if you could get hold of a Mrs. Belle Elmore Crippin.

Talk to me about sociologists, unquote, said A5 murder victim Harry Langham.

Small intestines were found in a ditch. Point. New path.

Quotes. They know F for Freddy dash, dash, dash. All about anything.

More to follow later.

Yes, it requires a special kind of skill.

job of the reporter.

Very similar to that of the nuclear physicist or the brain surgeon.

I'm surprised you never went in for brain surgery, Greg.

Many people have suggested it over the years.

The hand, part of the hand.

Right, this is the mock -up for Monday's front.

We leave with Khrushchev, obviously, all the background material, substantiating

evidence, how the Crucible scoured the world for six months to find him and so

on.

Gradually we set the scene for the next day's issue when we start serialising

his official memoirs as told to Greg Kettle.

I remember Greg not too dry.

I want it spiced with scandal.

What were the young men of the Kremlin like between the sheets? Was Brezhnev

really the superstar everyone claimed?

How did Kosygin feel about women with big breasts?

Right.

But don't trivialise it.

And on the centre, we run the background spread on hanging. Time to coincide

with the Commons vote later today.

Yes.

I must say that for an article that purports to offer a fair, evenly

discussion on the morality of capital punishment, the headline string the

bastards up.

offense so far.

What would you suggest, Harry?

I suggest we give Bill Titler a free hand for a few days.

Left to himself, he might come up with something useful.

Father Teasdale.

Bill Titler, Daily Crucible.

You can start by taking that crate into the hall.

I'm afraid everything's rather a muddle.

They're closing the church down, you see. I really... Oh, don't worry.

I'll get the brownies to move it later.

Actually, I wondered if I might have a word about your late brother, Mr Trevor

Teasdale. Trevor?

Oh, yes.

Sweet, charming fellow.

Well, what did you want to know? Well, I understand he was assistant chief

hangman of Great Britain.

I don't want to talk about that, I'm afraid. No, I never talk about it. No,

sorry. Fine, fine, fine. Point taken. It's not my job to pry, I understand.

A bit sensitive.

So you, uh, say you've got to pack up and move out, then?

Certainly, yes.

How much to do until the... Oh, no, no.

Not in the sun, please.

Use the toilet roll.

You see, Prime Minister, the crucible spread on hanging is pretty well sewn up

for tomorrow's edition.

I'd be a rogue and a rapscallion if I tried to interfere with that coffee now.

Oh, absolutely, Twiggy. Well, the crucible must print. The crucible must

Cigar. Oh, what's that? Some notes of mine?

It appears to be a short list for the Queen's birthday honours, Prime

Lord Rathbone of Higerton.

Sir Russell Spam.

Harold Stringer, CBE.

Oh, how careless are we, Twiggy? This is highly confidential.

Of course, none of these has actually been confirmed yet.

Names can still be removed.

With all due respect, sir, I feel it morally wrong and totally indefensible

three honours should be bestowed on a single newspaper.

Strike off, Harry Stringer.

And the attendances never did pick up, so down came the Episcopal decree.

The church has got to go.

It's very sad, Father.

Still, I suppose I'd better be off.

Thanks very much for the tea and sandwiches.

Bye now.

Oh, sorry. There was just one small detail I wanted to check before I go

your brother.

He died on March the 4th, 1973, is that right?

Quinn Quagesma.

Yes, that's right, because I remember actually being at home at the time with

parents, all celebrating Quinn Quagesma. I remember them saying on the news that

the Home Secretary had just granted a pardon to Raymond Evans, the man your

brother had hanged 17 years before.

That was quite a coincidence, I suppose, your brother dying that very same day.

I told you I didn't want to talk about that. Oh, no, no, I wouldn't want you

I've never said a word to anybody about it in 13 years.

Right. Well, you know what the press would do with a story like that.

And I don't want to talk about it ever again, don't you understand?

How I went to his house that day and... ..found him there, hanging from

the banisters.

The rope all taut and rigid round his neck.

He always could tie a good knot, Trevor.

Your brother, a former hangman, hanged himself. He couldn't bear it, you see,

knowing that he'd taken an innocent man's life like that.

Well, I think you're absolutely right not to talk about it, Father.

Now, when you first found him hanging...

Change of plan, everyone. The BBC's check has bounced. The breakfast time

appearance is cancelled.

It's time to deal with a special live interview with ITV at nine tonight.

OK, careful with him, boys.

He's exclusive.

This is terrific, Will.

Just what the spread needs to put some sanity back into it.

Bill Tickler's just come back with a good one for the spread, Max.

A hangman who hanged himself when he found he'd executed an innocent man.

The whole spread was moulded ten minutes ago, Harry. Sorry.

Bugger it.

Where's Spam, then? TV studio.

Live Christoph interview in five minutes.

Well, can't we run this on page three at all?

There's a piece about Princess Diana being anorexic again.

What?

Died shock -flat tight. Spark slim -plagued scare.

Weight loss, health theory of a royal knee wrinkle.

What does this mean?

Oh, it's a scene last night at the theatre. One leg of a tight, slightly

Do you think she's lost weight, Annie? Look, this is her yesterday.

This is her the same day last year.

Oh, who the hell gives a toss about Princess Diana's bloody tight?

That's the death of, oh, my God.

Oh.

And here on LWT in a moment, a change of program, we present a special live

interview with former Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev.

Yes,

rather fat and almost completely bald.

How do you spell that?

Yes.

Mr.

Donald...

Oh, yeah.

Chronic schizophrenia.

And what happened after he was discharged? Did he... I see.

Stay with friends.

Good

evening.

Tonight... A rare moment in history.

Former Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev, ousted from power in 1964 and believed

to have died in 1971, was last week found alive by a reporter working for

Daily Crucible newspaper.

The Crucible's editor, Mr. Russell Spam, is with me tonight with Mr. Khrushchev

himself, now 93 years old, but still, I understand, alert and articulate.

Mr. Khrushchev, can I start by asking you, How does it feel to have been dead

for 15 years?

Mr. Christophe, did you hear my question?

Mr. Christophe?

Mr. Christophe?

We're going to move on now to tomorrow's debate in the Commons on capital

punishment. All the polls show that the outcome is still very much in the

balance. Earlier this evening, the Prime Minister told me why he believed the

death sentence was an effective deterrent.

What's the verdict?

Serious?

Things are a mess, Russell.

Not only did this man die on live television.

Now, you tell me it wasn't Khrushchev at all, but some fruitcake from a loopy

bin.

What can I say, Mr.

Rathbone? I've had enough, Russell.

You're fired.

I quite understand, sir.

You were going for a moment there, didn't I?

What?

Excellent front page. Wait till Harry sees it. He'll be pleased as punch.

TV death blow spikes Fool's Day gag.

The tragic death of a 75 -year -old man on live TV last night sadly scuppered

Britain's biggest ever National April Fool's Day spoof.

A father -loving crucible had put up geriatric joker Mr Donald Kubelski to

hopes role of Mr Khrushchev as part of a special all -Fool's Day prank.

Tell Spam I want to feed him here in my office immediately.

Hey! You just don't get to say the front page is a cracker.

How you have the effrontery, Russell, to pass off this fiat. Oh, incidentally,

I've just read this hangman piece of young Titler's first -rate job.

Duke -ridden noose -boss in string -up shock.

Rope chief's brother tells of heartache, lynch grief.

It's a story that swings hanging debates, Harry.

Shame it missed the paper. Oh, the word down from the Chief Whip's office is

that the bill should cruise through this afternoon by seven votes.

Thanks in no small measure to our Chamber of Horrors contribution, I dare

Well, it's not good enough, Russell.

I agree, Harry.

We've put on half a million readers, but we need more.

We need a stronger image, a campaigning paper, a paper with a conscience.

How's this going for a new long... running moral crusade. The Crucible

war on an enemy of society.

An evil power -crazed maniac, a rabid lunatic who makes Hitler look like

Paddington Bear.

And only the Crucible dares to stand up to him.

Well, who is this person?

We haven't found him yet, but...

off his master and a story with some sordid sex appeal someone's secrets we

grabbed famous facts that we have stabbed

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