Original subtitles

Good evening, everybody.

These days it seems

people will do almost anything to get on television:

stand behind news reporters mouthing, "Hello, mom"

Deliberately buy yogurts that are past their sell-by date

so they can complain to Anne Robinson,

or video their pets being knocked unconscious by garden swings

in the hope that the producer of "You've Been Framed"

Will believe it to be spontaneous.

Fame is the spur.

But fame, as we shall see,

is like an oven-ready frozen meal for one-

Not as nice as it looks.

Excuse me.

I've been looking though the number

of firearm certificates you've issued

in the last couple of years, Fowler.

Ah, yes, I think you'll find it comes to a goodly round number.

Yes, it does- none.

That's right- no more, no less.

92 sponsored applications,

- none accepted. - That is correct.

Including the bloke I sponsored.

Or more accurately, particularly the bloke you sponsored.

He is the chief todger of my lodge.

If I can't swing him a permit,

I'm gonna look a right dicky doo-dah, aren't I?

I do not approve firearms applications

in order to prevent you from looking a dicky doo-dah.

Besides which, I could issue the fellow a cruise missile permit,

and you would still look like a dicky doo-dah.

It is not within my power to prevent you

from looking like a dicky doo-dah.

Only god or a large bag could do that.

It is your job to vet the applications.

You're supposed to ask questions

to find out who's a suitable person to own a gun.

That's right. Surely the first question must be,

- does that person wish to own a gun? - Of course.

And if the answer to that is yes,

then clearly that person is not suitable to have one.

This is the nanny state gone mad.

What, because I don't happen to think

that a man who lives in a suburban semi

needs an automatic weapon?

He's a sportsman.

Then tell him to buy a pair of plimsolls.

Sport? Sport?

When did you last see a wild boar in Gasforth?

Or an elk?

If you did, dispatching it with a spear or an arrow

would be sport.

But deploying an elk-seeking missile is just cheating.

This is a civil liberties issue.

You are denying my todger his rights.

And what about the rights of those

who do not wish to live next to an armed man?

Particularly one who attends weekly secret meetings

in which he puts on a dress and kisses a dead turkey's bottom?

We only kiss the turkey's bottom on special occasions.

Normally we might do with a chicken nugget.

I am talking about the rights of the individual here,

which I consider secondary to those of the community as a whole.

This town is a human nest.

If you were an ant, would you consider it

A matter of hymenopterous civil liberties

that a socially dysfunctional worker ant

be allowed to keep a pet anteater?

If it were securely muzzled and tethered, yes, I would.

Then clearly you are quite mad, Grim.

Good day.

Did you see "Crimewatch U.K." on the telly last night?

God, it was good.

Sometimes when I'm watching, I think, "ooooh,

that looks so exciting, I wish I was a copper."

And then I remember I am one,

which is so silly, isn't it?

- Get on with your work, boy. - Yes, yes.

I love Jill Dando.

She can take down my particulars any time she likes.

So serious, so firm.

Lovely jackets.

You know, I don't know what she does to the crooks; but she certainly scares me.

Yes, I afriaid the fact of the matter is: Crime is so much better on the television.

I don't approve of this current broadcasting trend

that turns police work and video surveillance into entertainment.

Actors train for years

to get the chance to appear on the television.

But why do they bother?

Just steal one and you'll be on the following night.

I remember when there were other things on the television-

Grumpy scottish doctors

and dictionary games,

those marvelous royal variety extravaganzas

with puppeteers from Prague who you weren't supposed to be able to see

because they wore black jumpers.

Timeless stuff. Clean, wholesome-

- Boring. - Yes, perhaps slightly boring.

I confess I normally made a cup of tea

when those greek men who jump onto each other's shoulders

and end up standing on top of one another in a great big pile were on.

But it just made Cliff Richard's bit even better.

It's no good harking back to the past like a sad old gitzer.

Tv's changed. People like police shows.

But they're so predictable.

There's always the two officers.

They don't get on, then they do get on.

One of them's fat and gruff, the other one's thin and posh.

One's a sad old drunk, the other one's a health fanatic.

One of them's a woman, the other one's a martian.

One of them has four heads, the other one's allergic to heads.

If there were as many police officers on the beat as there are on television,

the country wouldn't be in the state it's in.

These TV twits should come along to a real station

and see what it's actually like.

Great goggling googlies, sergeant, whatever is the matter?

We're going to be on the telly.

Calm yourself, sergeant. What is this nonsense?

- This fax came for you- - a fax for me, sergeant?

Yes... then I presume you do not know its contents.

Of course I do, I always read your mail.

At home. At home you do, sergeant.

But at work you wouldn't dream of reading

the private communications of your commanding officer.

Oh, all right, have it your own way.

What's in your fax, Raymond?

I wonder if it's something exciting.

Good lord, we're going to be on the television.

The chief constable has been approached by the BBC

to do a fly-on-the-wall documentary

about a police station.

He wants to know if we'd agree for it to be ours.

Now this needs some very careful consideration.

For the time being, I think it'd be best

if we didn't tell C.I.D., because you know what'll happen.

Derek Grim of Gasforth C.I.D., come on down!

- Just as I feared. - Have you heard, Fowler? We are gonna be stars.

Limos, posh birds, no more queuing at Sainsbury's.

I reckon we should cut a single. Starsky and Hutch did it, didn't they?

♪ Come on, silver lady, take me home. ♪

And Kojak, he had a bash- ♪ if a picture paints ♪

♪ a thousand words ♪

♪ then why can't I paint you? ♪

Look, be quiet, everyone, be quiet.

Starsky and Hutch and Kojak were fictitious policemen.

The BBC want to make a documentary...

not "Gasforth P.D. Blue."

The whole purpose is to show policing in the raw.

Huh! Do you mean nude policing?

Now, we have to give this very careful consideration.

This type of documentary can ruin people's lives.

There are countless examples of people

opening themselves up to the camera,

only to discover that the subsequent exposure

leaves them lost, empty and bewildered.

Now think about it, seriously,

do we really want to bring that kind of confusion

and heartache on ourselves?

Yeah, definitely.

So I want it, you know, business-like. Because I'm a police officer,

it's gotta be totally sensible, severe almost,

you know, practical and absolutely no-nonsense.

But also, I'd like it just a little bit... Really sexy.

You know what I mean? Just a hint of ravishing.

A nod towards drop-dead bunkable.

So you got that? Sensible, no-nonsense, absolutely gorgeous.

That'll do for me too.

Yes, and me.

Boyle-

Do you reckon my face is a bit saggy?

I mean, go on, tell me the truth, absolutely honestly-

As a mate. What do you think?

Well, you know... No, not really.

Oh, come on, don't pull your punches.

Give it to me absolutely straight.

Is it a bit saggy?

Maybe just a touch.

Well, thank you very much.

Blooming charming! That really helps my confidence, that does.

I'm fat. I'm grotesque.

- No. - I look like I'm resting my jaw

on a stack of crumpets.

I am a vast, unsightly, wobbling mound of lard.

I can't do it, Boyle. I simply can't face the cameras.

Sir, you look lovely, superb shape.

- The girls'll go potty. - Do you really think so?

- Honestly? - No question.

Birds love a slap head.

- A slap head? - Like you were saying, sir,

Kojak. The girls'll be queuing up to lick your lollypop.

I'll tell you what, if you're worried about your chin,

there's a couple tricks I learned off a bird of mine who was in telly.

I never knew you had a girlfriend in TV, Boyle.

- Oh, yes, sir. She was a stroker. - A stoker?

No, sir, a stroker- on "Sale of the Century."

She used to have to stand there in a bikini and stroke the prizes.

Lovely she was.

I used to watch her every Saturday, stroking stuff-

Sets of cookware, crystal decanters,

lawnmowers.

That girl could stroke anything you put in front of her.

- How did we get onto that? - Yes, sir, I was telling you,

little trick of the trade- light.

That is the secret to looking good on the box.

Gotta get light under your chin.

Otherwise you'll get a shadow in the crease

where your great big wobbly flap of fat is.

How am I gonna get light under me chin, Boyle?

Stand on me head? The light's are on the ceiling.

For instance, sir, you've got a mirror there, right?

There's light coming through the window, right?

When the camera's near, slip the mirror onto your desk,

chin over it, bosh, under lit, beautiful.

There you go, you've lost a couple of pounds already.

Ah, that's the way, Gladstone.

We'll show those communists from the BBC

that despite the pernicious influence

of their puerile police dramas,

the british bobby still believes in the very highest of standards.

You know, sir, I was nearly in show business once before.

Oh yes, my mother was very pushy.

I suppose all moms think their kids are beautiful,

but the interesting thing is, sir,

I actually was.

A gorgeous little fellow-

Big eyes, big smile,

- chubby little cheeks. - Yes, I think I get the idea.

And the purest of pure soprano voices.

I could curdle milk while it was still in the cow, sir.

Mmm-hmm. Anyway,

one day Radio Trinidad advertised for a boy soprano.

It was my big chance, sir.

The whole street turned out to see me get on the bus.

"Young Frank Gladstone going to be a star," they said.

And I would've been but for two things.

And what were they?

My testicles, sir.

They dropped on the way to the auditions.

I still believe that if that road had been tarmacked,

I would've got away with it.

I was going to sing "oh, for the wings of a dove."

I had to give them "old man river" instead.

The BBC not here yet?

Good. There was a terrible queue at the chemist's

but I thought the occasion warranted a new comb.

Patricia, have you got nits?

No, I haven't got nits!

I've had my hair done. I'm trying to look nice for the telly.

Patricia, the whole point of this exercise

is to show us as we are.

What sort of example are you setting to the constables?

Great gobs of gastric gas, Habib,

what are you thinking of?

- What? - Your legs, your legs, you naughty girl!

They have no business being here.

- Get rid of them. - It's an image thing, sir.

It's about personal empowerment.

It's about me being the me I want me to be.

Unless I'm very much mistaken, constable,

you're talking complete donkey twaddle.

I am not talking donkey twaddle, sir.

I have an obligation to be a role model,

to show young girls that being a strong and in-control woman,

does not mean denying my essential femininity.

Or to put it another way,

you want to look nice on the television.

I think it's my duty, sir,

as a feminist.

Really, what has got into you girls today?

Vanity, thy name is woman!

You will spend your next break taking your skirt down.

Ah, constable Goody.

Good morning to you, sir.

At least you've come to work looking respectable.

Why thank you.

Evening all- detective constable cool,

TV's sex cop, always ready to get on the job.

Sir-

Sir, you think it's all right

if I wore my father's Trinidad police dress uniform?

Well, it is part of the Commonwealth after all.

Now listen to me, all of you-

This is a serious documentary about serious police work.

I will not tolerate these vain, unworthy attempts to attract the camera.

We will present ourselves as God made us

and as the queen expects.

What's "Grey Away," Raymond?

Um...

"Grey Away"? I have no idea.

"Looking a bit grey?

Feeling a bit old?

New 'Grey Away' will make you look 10 years younger."

Good lord, I must've picked up someone else's bag at boots.

Good lordy-lord.

Good lordy, lordy, doo-dah ding dong day.

I'll take it back at lunchtime.

Messages, Habib?

Well, it was just a thought!

The BBC!

They're here! They're here!

♪ Another opening, another show. ♪

Five minutes, please.

I'm going out a constable, but I'm coming back a star.

I can't go on!

Do it for the troops, kid.

Do you really think I can dance, Mr. Weinfeld?

Follow the yellow brick road. ♪ Follow the yellow brick road- ♪

Be quiet, you idiotic youth,

or I shall send you home and you won't be on television at all.

- Yes, sir, I'm sorry. - Go and tell them I'll be straight out.

Knock 'em dead, kid.

Ah, good afternoon.

I'm sorry?

Good afternoon.

Bob Tough, director.

Inspector Fowler... Inspector.

Right, we don't exist.

We are not here. You are unaware of us.

We go where we please, we shoot what we please.

If you feel you wish to explain what you're doing, by all means do so.

- Understood? - Perfectly.

- Perfectly. - Good. Roll camera.

♪ Old man river... ♪

Be quiet, Gladstone. Be quiet!

So now let's just forget these television people

and set about our business.

Gladstone put those juggling balls away.

Now the knife and weapons amnesty which we've been running

has been at least a partial success.

A hacksaw blade...

A corkscrew

and a vicious pair of toenail clippers

have already been handed in.

And I've brought this in, inspector.

It's a Swiss-army pen-knife.

Ah, well done, Goody.

Confuscated from some juvenile nedwel no doubt.

Oh no, sir. That is mine.

That was a birthday present. And I've brought these in for you as well.

It's six butter knives.

Now, my mum says that you can have the spoons and the forks as well, if you like,

because the plastic handles crack in the dishwaher. Sir there you go.

Goody, when I asked you to be on the lookout for knives, I didn't mean any old knives.

I meant those belonging to the criminal classes.

Ooh!

I thought this was some sort of blue peter appeal.

Knife amnesties are a waste of time, sir.

They're just publicity stunts.

I will not have you belittling our achievement, Habib.

This corkscrew could cause a very nasty wound.

So could a gas cooker, sir, if you dropped it on someone's head.

Perhaps you should have a kitchen appliances amnesty, sir.

Now listen here, you naughty-

Goody, have you got gum in your mouth?

No, sir, just pretending to chew.

I wanna look tough for the cameras.

Now you be careful with these media people, Goody.

They're all smiles until they pounce.

I shall never forget going along to "The Antiques Roadshow."

When I slapped my family jewels on the table

the man just laughed.

I'd been up all night polishing them as well.

Deceitful and underhand the lot of them.

I know their game.

Those trotskyite BBC swine

will have to get up pretty early

to catch me with my trousers down.

Have you got a twitch, Goody?

No sir, I just think you should be careful.

Oh oh, don't you worry, boy.

I've got the measure of those pernicious snakes.

Sir, they're probably very nice people, sir.

No, don't you be fooled, Gladstone.

Debauched dimwits, the lot of them.

They could be anywhere, sir. They're very sneaky.

Ha! After years of gorging themselves

on vast lunches at the license payers' expense,

you can smell their beer-soaked

tobacco-raddled,

meat-and-pudding flatulence at 100 yards.

At least, that's what I'd heard.

Very quiet ride, this.

Very quiet indeed.

Normally, our time would be a blur-

A blur of drugs,

violence,

pornography, illicit sex.

Course sometimes we have to do a bit of work as well.

Shut up, Boyle.

We've received a phone call from a concerned neighbor.

An elderly gentlemen lives here.

The curtains haven't been opened for a few days

and he may be in need of assistance.

Tango, oscar, bravo,

um... Do re mi fa so la ti do.

Approaching house. Old git inside could be dead.

Will investigate, over.

Will you please shut up, constable Goody?

Great guys. Such joshes.

Now the old gentleman may be timid and fearful of strangers.

I myself am highly trained,

but if you could perhaps step to one side of the door?

No, I think actually the other side's my best side.

- Thanks. - Right, standing to one side now,

purpose, to avoid scaring silly old sod to death

if not popped clogs already.

Tango, uh... Jemma.

Angels 1-5, bandits at 6:00, dive, dive!

- Shut up, Goody! - Kevin, shut up.

Right, shutting up now.

Now you get to the side with the camera crew.

I don't want you messing up my shot.

I mean, we don't want the bloke getting nervous with too many coppers.

Yes, you're right. Suppose I am a pretty intimidating sight.

Hello sir, we've had a phone call.

I believe... no, I wanted a nurse.

Sir, I've been highly trained, perhaps I can help.

Oh yeah, all right, you'll do.

Looks like you've got lovely big 'uns under that uniform.

There's no call for that.

Mr. Opleton! Mr. Opleton.

I'm from "Love Passion Massage."

I'm afraid you're too late, love.

I've decided to have the police woman.

I think there's been a misunderstanding.

I'd love to have you both, but I can't afford to on my pension.

Can we have it off now, please?

Oh-hoo! I'll just get my teeth out.

Surprisingly quiet day, this.

Grim required.

Excuse me.

Diamond theft...

Drug deal... Major bank robbery...

Grim required, Grim required.

Must have -

Must have inspector Grim.

Did you hear that, Boyle? Let's go, go, go!

Go where, sir?

Grim responding- wilco, bravo...

- Um... - Vinto?

Vinto!

Well, we're only a small town station...

but in the modern age,

we face all the problems of a big city, really.

Oh yes, policing a town like Gasforth

is no longer just a question

of making sure people have lights on their bicycles.

Sir, here are three more

bicycle bylaw infringements, sir.

Right, Gladstone. Just put them on the desk.

Yes, sir.

Oh sir, there is one other matter.

One of our police dogs has got no nose.

Well, that can't be right.

How does he smell?

Terrible.

Gladstone!

I've been a very gad goy.

Yes, you have been a very gad goy.

I mean bad boy.

These television people have driven this station mad.

Thank goodness you at least have maintained your sanity.

Can you pass the duty log, please?

Right, that's it, the BBC are leaving immediately.

I heard there was a television crew here today.

I want to get on telly.

Oh really? And what is to be your contribution

to this great democracy of television?

Perhaps you've grown a rude-shaped turnip?

I've got this!

Where's the telly people?

Drugs, murder,

prostitutes-

Totally ordinary day this.

It is a jungle out there.

Not a real one, obviously- a metaphorical jungle.

But that is just as scary

particularly if the metaphorical lions and tigers

are actually real armed villains.

Yes, Grim.

I wouldn't be surprised if in the real jungle,

the lions and tigers weren't saying to each other,

"It is Gasforth on a Friday night out there, man."

It's a-it's a real phone call.

Hello, Grim.

- Yeah, it's for you. - Tough.

Would you please hand over that weapon?

I'm wearing the queen's trousers

and I'm in danger of soiling them.

Oh, you'll get it all right.

Where's this camera then?

Shoplifting, jaywalking-

Inspector Grim, Raymond's in danger!

There's an armed man at the front desk.

An armed man- this is it!

The sharp end at last.

I'll unlock the gun cupboard.

You lot, cover me with the camera as I run in.

Make sure you get my full expression

as I shout, "police, freeze!"

Boyle, you hold the torch.

Do you think I should take off my shirt?

Have you ever really thought

about what television fame means, sir?

Oh yes, it's fine for a while-

You and your scatter cushions in "Hello" magazine,

the chance to talk publicly about your dandruff.

- Sounds pretty good, doesn't it? - Oh yes.

But then suddenly, the tide turns against you.

Suddenly, Richard and Judy are no longer taking your calls.

You find yourself in carpet warehouses

shouting, "open new years day."

And then just when you thought you could sink no lower,

you appear at the door of Noel's mansion

in crinkley bottom.

- Is that what you want? - Oh, no, no!

Then hand over the gun.

Freeze! Freeze! Freeze!

The crisis is over, Grim. I talked him round.

Oh, that's a rusty old service revolver,

it's completely harmless.

Yes, I dug it out with my root vegetables.

I thought I might hand it into your weapons amnesty.

I thought I might get featured on the news.

A non-functioning firearm!

And I took my shirt off for that. Blimey!

Still, you couldn't have known, Fowler.

I can't deny you showed a lot of bottle.

You were incredible, Raymond, and on TV too.

You'll be a hero.

Oh no really, I'd far rather no fuss was made,

honestly, it's-

You're in luck, we didn't get any of it.

Inspector Grim insisted on us covering him exclusively.

Oh. Oh well, never mind.

It's probably for the best. Um...

unless you'd like to do it again, sir?

For the cameras?

Oh yes, please.

Yes. Yes, he'd like to do it again.

- Yes, he'd like to do it again. - And then after that,

I could show you my disgustingly-shaped turnip.