Original subtitles

And now...

This episode was first broadcast in October '94,

in a week when hope faded for the marriage of Charles and di,

but grew for the prospects of peace in northern Ireland.

And so, after weeks of painstakingly searching

this rugged area the size of wales, finally, some kind of reward,

as behind me, the soldiers gather and burn huge piles

of Coca leaves and marijuana.

The drug barons themselves...

..May have escaped the net this time...

..But their evil wares have not.

And...

And I think you'd better cut there, Jerry.

Behind me, smoke. Soldiers burning drugs.

They're soldiers... behind me...

Behind me, soldiers...

Rugged soldiers, the size of wales!

Burning drugs.

Painstakingly!

Behind me, painstaking barons burning-ly drug soldiers

in huge piles of whale nets.

Ugh! Whoo!

All right, that's the one, Jerry.

Hey! Let's go for a curry.

It's a shame we couldn't broadcast that,

it's a graphic indictment of how drugs can derange the human mind.

Human mind?

Yeah, well, you may well mock,

but I have got some dynamite stuff on that tape.

My interview with the informant in Colombia

will send the whole British end of that operation down

for a very long time. So when does the trial start?

Wednesday. But the hot tickets are all for Thursday,

when our star witness here takes the stand.

Well, sooner you than me, Damien.

These Colombian drug barons don't mess about.

They tend to regard witnesses as a form of organic compost.

Yes, well, when you're a hardened veteran like me, David,

you don't even think about it. The danger comes with the territory.

Hi, coach! Had a good weekend recharging the batteries

for another surge of powerhouse info dynamics?

Not really.

Trouble with Deborah.

She seems to be going through this sort of nihilistic phase.

You know, "the universe is meaningless."

It's perfectly normal for a girl her age, I suppose,

but she seems to hold me personally responsible.

So she's gone on a huge spending spree with my credit cards.

Well, you know what they say, George.

Problems are just the pregnant mothers of solutions.

Yes. That's given you something to think about, hasn't it?

So, how's the running order looking, team?

Well, number one is this week's royal disclosure book.

You know, Charles and di. Will they divorce, where will it end?

Should the un send in a peacekeeping force?

Then it's the German elections, blah, blah, blah.

Oh, big item on the introduction of identity cards.

Are they a good idea?

Will the government use them as a form of harassment?

Well, they're good news for you, Henry.

Because next time you wake up in the sidings in sevenoaks,

you'll have a little card in your pocket to tell you who you are.

Well, we've loads of stuff on the royal visit to moscow.

A report on how they're frantically resurfacing roads

and filling in potholes before the queen arrives.

I wish she'd visit clapham.

Henry, you'll be fronting all the moscow stuff.

And after that, you'll be doing an interview with Barbara cartland

about her move into rugby league,

playing scrum-half for hull Kingston rovers.

Fine.

For goodness' sake, Henry, what is the matter?

Well, you might as well know now, I suppose.

It'll be in all the papers soon enough.

What will be in all the papers?

I got a letter from this chap

claiming he's the result of a fling I had

with a film editor during the yom kippur war.

Oh, brilliant, Henry, great timing

We're all set to get tons of great publicity

from Damien appearing in court

to show that globelink's setting a moral lead in the war against drugs,

and now that's going to get blown off the front pages by...

"Dirty Davenport's desert disgrace"!

And all because you allowed yourself to be seduced

by some painted jezebel.

Seduced? We're talking about Henry here, Gus.

Do you really think that's what happened?

No, what happened was she was this succulent Australian girl...

I don't want to know all the details!

What are you worried about?

I mean, the tabloids wouldn't dredge up something

that happened 20 years ago, would they?

Sorry, I don't know why I said that, I'll shut up.

Anyway, it's probably just someone trying it on.

Well, let's hope so, Henry.

Otherwise, you may just find yourself introducing

pro-celebrity sheep dog trials on our all-night euro channel!

So how are you gonna handle it?

Well, he's probably just a gold-digger,

but if he pushes his luck,

I suppose it's down the clinic for the old blood test.

You know, it's funny.

Margaret made me have a blood test when Deborah was born.

Never quite understood why.

I mean, it's not as if there was any doubt that I was the father.

All right, let's get started, shall we?

Right. Post.

Four mps have written, agreeing to be interviewed

on the fight against sleaze, but they all want to be paid in cash.

And, er, George, this letter came by bike

from your credit card company. Oh, no. Deborah!

Oh, and there's this death threat for Damien.

Yes. Thank you, joy.

Erm... George? Mm?

What does it say?

It says they're gonna cancel my credit card.

I mean the death threat! What does it say?

"To Damien day, if you give evidence, you will die."

Now, please, I'm busy.

Are you ok, Damien?

I've received a death threat. Death threat? Yeah.

In connection with this drugs trial? Yeah.

Excellent!

That's the mark of a reporter who's really making waves.

Oh, I can see the strapline now.

"Damien day, the reporter who knew no fear."

Knows. What?

Knows no fear. You said "knew no fear."

Did I? Well, what's in a tense? Words aren't my core activity.

No, you're the communicator, I'm just the humble logistics support.

I'm sure this is a crank or something,

but we ought to take appropriate steps.

Absolutely. We must notify publicity.

You mean security? Yes, security, that's what I meant.

Well, it's gonna be very difficult to trace.

They've just cut the letters out of newspapers.

Yeah, that's what I always do.

Don't worry, Damien.

Oh, he's not worried. The danger comes with the territory.

Yes! The danger comes with the territory.

A noble epitaph... epigram!

Anyway, heads down, chins up, chest out. Terrific!

Well played, team!

Relax, Damien. Listen to the voice of experience.

Back in the '60s, a colleague of mine, old huey spoddyswood,

he got a death threat from some separatist nutters in Aden.

15 pages all about how they were gonna slit his throat,

slice him up and then post the bits to his loved ones.

And it was all talk.

Really? Yeah, they just shot him.

Are you all right, Sally?

You've been in and out of that loo all morning.

Oh, I'm all right. Just feeling a little queasy, that's all.

Would you like some tea? No, thank you.

I think if I drink anything I'll be sick.

Would you like some tea?

Strange. This is the fourth morning in a row that I've felt nauseous.

Sally couldn't be...

Nah!

Damien, this death threat.

I do apologise. I was preoccupied earlier with this business

over Deborah and my credit card company

and this bulk order for fuse wire.

I think we should ring the police and arrange protection for you.

Oh, don't worry about it, George. I can handle it.

It's gonna take more than a few words chopped out of newspapers

to stop me doing what I can to uphold the course of justice.

Phone rings

yeah? South American accent: 'Mr day.

'I'm in the building across the street.'

I have you in my telescopic sights and you are dead meat, amigo!

Bloody hell, get down, everybody! Keep away from the windows!

Dave, get down. What's up, amigo?

Gunman, telescopic sight...

Bastard, charnley, that's not funny!

Oh, the reporter who knows no fear also knows no sense of humour!

Oh, look, for god's sake. Someone is trying to kill me and...

Hey, I wasn't scared, ok?

I was just concerned about everyone else.

Damien, let's ring the police and arrange some protection for you.

Oh! Oh, well, all right, then, if you insist.

If it makes you happy.

Looks like John Major's gonna accept the permanence

of the ira cease-fire.

Well, maybe he wants to win next year's nobel peace prize.

Oh, no, he's got no chance.

For a start, he's never killed anyone.

Hello? Is that Scotland yard? I wonder if you could help me.

My name's George dent from globelink news.

Yes, that's right. Deborah's father.

You've what? You've told him he can come and see you?

I don't see the harm. I mean, the chap's come from Australia.

But what if he wants to tap you for money?

Well, if he's come all the way from Australia

to try and prove he's a relative of Henry's,

he probably needs the money for psychiatric treatment.

Don't worry about me. I'll know instantly if he's true Davenport.

Ok, right. Thanks. Bye!

What did they say? Well, the sergeant says

they've used up their witness protection budget for this year,

so they can't provide you with a bodyguard

until the next financial year. Basically, they're not resourced

to respond to single death threats any more.

For god's sake.

Don't worry, they said keep your death threats.

When you've got three, you give them a ring,

they send round a form, then you fill it out, then we send it back.

And then? Bob's your uncle.

You all right, George? Yes.

Just finding it a little hard to motivate myself.

According to this article,

scientists now know when life on earth will cease.

Really? When?

In 4 billion years' time.

Makes everything suddenly seem so pointless, really.

All right, man of steel?

I've arranged mega profile press interviews.

You know...

"Why I think it's vital to take a principled moral stand.

"By Damien day, a latter-day Thomas a becket."

He was stabbed to death.

Sorry. I meant Thomas more.

Head chopped off.

Not Thomas more. I meant Thomas, erm...

The tank engine?

Isn't there something you should be getting on with, joy?

Well, see you tomorrow. Keep sharp, ratings raiders!

I think you're being very brave about this, Damien.

Oh, not really, George.

It's gonna take more than some dago lowlife to frighten me.

Phone rings

yeah?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh, sod off!

Who was that?

It's just Dave pissing about pretending to be security.

What did he say?

That some sinister-looking bloke's coming upstairs to see me.

Oh, shit!

Oh, shit, he's coming!

Oh, honestly! Talk about panic.

Can I help you?

Yes. I've come to kill Damien day.

Oh, right.

I said I've come to kill Damien day. Which one is he?

Er... who? Come on, don't play games.

Unless you want me to take you with him. That's him there.

Ok, senor day.

Stand up and die like a man or perish on your knees like a dog.

Oh, my god! Hello, security?

That won't do you any good! You want to know why?

It was security who put me up to this!

Asked me if I wouldn't mind scaring the crap

out of the arrogant little bugger.

No hard feelings, mate.

I'm, er, looking for Henry Davenport.

Oh? I'm Henry... I'm Henry Davenport.

Hello, I'm Terry. Did you get my letter?

Yes. Yes... yes, I did.

Oh, heck! You're Sally smedley.

You're even more beautiful in the flesh

than you are on the screen.

And you must be the gentleman who believes he's Henry's son?

But frankly, Henry, I can't see how that's possible.

Because he has taste, manners, and a full head of hair!

I'm a great fan of yours.

Well, it's very nice to meet you, Terry.

Oh, it's an honour for me.

Listen, I don't suppose I could take you out to dinner sometime?

You know, nice meal, bit of dancing?

We could have a nice relaxing evening.

Course, I'd need a spanner. A spanner?

Yeah, to slacken off the wingnut on that tight bloody arse of yours!

She exclaims, Henry laughs raucously

never can resist winding up snooty tarts!

Come on, my boy, let's go have a drink!

Well, seems like a real chip off the Davenport block, eh, Damien?

Terry laughing

so I jumped out of the bedroom window,

stark naked apart from the tinsel,

just as he's coming through the door with his shotgun!

You know, exactly the same thing happened to me once in Singapore.

They laugh

I never had any idea, you know.

About you. Not an inkling.

I know. Mum didn't tell me you were my dad till I was 18.

I wish she'd said something.

I suppose she thought I'd have denied everything,

but she'd have been wrong.

I mean, I love my daughters, but, damn it, a son is a son!

You can't teach daughters to play rugger or box.

I mean, they did their best, but I could tell their heart wasn't in it.

I had to make do with mum bowling Daisy cutters at me.

You know, I was very fond of, er... your mother.

Jackie?

Yeah, Jackie! Jackie.

If she'd told me!

I mean, all these years I thought the Davenport name

would die with me. But now I find I...

I'm speechless.

I understand. It's a shock.

No, no, no. I'm speechless. Just look at that blonde.

Oh, yeah!

Friend's not bad either. Well?

Let's go. Wait. What?

When we get over there, for god's sake, don't call me dad.

Yep. That's it. I have finally lost my grip on reality.

Our item number one is "will patently unhappy couple divorce?"

And our item number 24 is

"safety inspectors find definite risk

"of nuclear explosion at aldermaston."

No, we've cut that.

After all, an atomic explosion that hasn't happened yet

is hardly news, is it, David?

Ok, so that's three cheese, two tuna and an egg mayonnaise, all on brown.

And I'll have an avocado prawn mayonnaise on walnut bread, please.

Right. With grated cheese, kiwi fruit,

pickle, mustard, peanut butter and chocolate spread.

Oh, and a packet of tandoori crisps.

Right. Sally!

Can we just have a quiet word, please?

Ok, team! Are we making the most of today?

Remember, today is tomorrow's tadpole of opportunity.

Damien. Are you ok?

Er, yeah, fine.

Good. I'd like you to meet Pete. 'Ello, Damien.

Pete is from celebrity minders.

"Celebrity" minders? Oh, right.

'Ere, don't I know you? Yeah, when Madonna was at the savoy.

Didn't I throw your cameraman down a rubbish chute?

That's right! So, er, how's business?

Oh, not bad. Just had a week looking after Jeffrey archer.

Different kind of job to Madonna, that.

You have to throw people into his way.

So, you obviously had a good night?

That boy is 100% pure Davenport!

Henry!

If this story ends up on the front page of the news of the world,

with a blurred 20-year-old photo of you and the mother, then I'm...

Oh, come on, Gus. What if they do get hold of it?

It'll be quite heart-warming, really.

It'll be, "much-loved newsreader finds long-lost son."

No, George.

It'll be long-lost love child shames sheepdog trials presenter!

Pregnant? Don't be ridiculous, I can't be.

I've just been measured for my spring wardrobe from chanel.

Yet being fitted for haute couture

isn't generally recognised as a form of contraception, is it?

Look, I'm telling you

it is impossible for me to be pregnant. Ok?

All right. If you're saying you always take precautions.

Of course I do!

Every time. Every single time.

Without fail.

Where the hell is Pete?

Erm, oh, er, joy sent him out on a sandwich run.

What? He's my bodyguard!

All right, all right, don't panic.

I'm not panicking. You're very jumpy.

And I am not jumpy!

Bang oh! Jesus!

Ta-da! You got to admit it, they had you there.

That was not funny. Yes, it was. It was very funny, wasn't it, Henry?

Hm? Oh, yes.

Helen...

What's the problem?

"Dear Henry, thanks for the money. I'm not your son.

"I just met Jackie in a bar once.

"She told me about your one night stand all those years ago.

"Sorry for any inconvenience. Yours, Terry."

Oh, Henry, I am sorry.

Did he sting you for a lot?

Five grand. For a journalism course. Oh, well.

Morning, team!

What's the matter with Henry?

Turns out that boy wasn't his son after all.

Oh, that's a relief.

Nice to start the day with some good news.

Talking of which, what stories are we scorching the enemy with today?

We're going to lead on the us-north Korea nuclear agreement.

Inspection of all potential weapon building facilities guaranteed,

except for two,

which the north Koreans insist aren't worth looking at.

That has to be a ten on the Henry Davenport scale of crass naivete.

What? Well, let's face it, accepting the word of a totalitarian regime

led by a drunken fat psychopath

is almost as stupid as you giving thousands of pounds away

to a complete stranger, just because you wanted a son.

Thank you, Damien. As ever, sensitive to the problems of others.

Yeah, well, I am the one with the real problems around here,

in case you hadn't noticed. I am in court tomorrow

giving evidence against people who wanna kill me,

not pathetically moping around, crying over spilt sperm.

Will you shut up about spilt sperm?

Do excuse me, please,

while I make arrangements for Damien...

To take his face home in a hanky!

Look, take it easy, dad You're dead!

Whoa, I'm sorry, Henry,

professionally I can't allow you to lay a finger on my client.

Get out of my way, son! I can't allow it.

That's right, he's paid to protect me.

So, I can say what I like.

You sad, old, bald, pitiful bastard.

Yells I'm sorry, Henry, sit down.

Please don't make me hurt you.

I wouldn't want you spending weeks in intensive care.

Oh, that reminds me, I must ring Deborah's probation officer.

Erm, what colour would you say that was, Helen? Er, pink?

Yes, whitish pink, though, isn't it? More white than pink?

It's pink, Sally.

You must be very nervous about the trial.

It's bound to be a hell of a strain for you.

All I have to do is tell the truth. That's what I meant.

Be nice to be down the Bailey again. Be like the good old days.

What good old days?

Oh, nothing.

Joy, small question.

What colour would you call that? Pink.

Phone rings yeah? George, it's the police.

Oh, no, sorry, it's not about Deborah. They want Damien.

Hello, Damien day speaking. Yes?

George, would you agree that only an idiot would say that was pink?

Well, it is pink. Thank you.

Oh! I don't believe it.

They've changed their plea to guilty,

so I'm not needed to testify.

And I was so looking forward to defiantly taking the oath

and personally putting those fiends behind bars. Damn...

Damn, damn, damn...

Well, what a shame.

There's a lot of publicity potential down the pan.

And a lot of man hours wasted on that tribute.

Still, never mind.

Pete, thanks for your services, mate. What tribute?

As of now, you're stood down. Ciao.

What does he mean "tribute"? Tribute to who?

Well, I'll be seeing you, Damien. You're in no danger now.

Oh, yeah, cheers, Pete. Well, thanks for everything.

No trouble. Any time. Bye.

Bye, Pete.

Erm, Pete? Pete!

Seems Gus might not have wasted his time on that tribute after all.

Sally? You're going to have to accept it.

You are pregnant.

Don't be silly, Helen. Any second now that's going to turn white.

A-ha! There, you see? White!

Joy, surely we covered the Tory mp sleaze story yesterday.

We covered yesterday's sleaze story yesterday.

I don't think the public want to know about this kind of thing.

Right... that's why the privilege committee sits in secret, is it?

No, joy, the committee sits in private

to show they're above suspicion. If they sat in public,

it would imply they needed to justify themselves. I see.

And, of course, Neil Hamilton must be above suspicion,

because he's minister responsible for business probity.

We're on the same wavelength, joy. Cut the item.

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