Flying Lessons

 

 

Mr. Chigger: Excuse me, I saw your advertisement for flying lessons and I'd like to make an application.

 

Secretary: Appointment?

 

Mr.. Chigger: Yes, yes.

 

Secretary: Certainly. Would you come this way, please.

 

(She gets up, clutching a file and trips off in a typical efficient secretary's walk. Mr. Chigger follows. Cut to a river. She goes straight in without looking to right or left, as if she does this routine as a matter of course. Mr. Chigger follows. Halfway across the river they pass a couple of business executives hurrying in the opposite direction.)

 

Secretary: Morning, Mr. Jones, Mr. Barnes.

 

(Cut to a forest. They come past towards camera, passing a tea trolley on the way with a tea lady and a couple of men around it.)

 

Secretary: Morning Mrs. Wills.

 

Mrs. Wills: Morning, luv.

 

(Arty shot. Skyline of a short sharp hill, as in Bergman's 'Seventh Seal'. They come in frame right and up and over, passing two men and exchanging 'Good mornings'. Cut to seashore. Tripping along, they pass another executive.)

 

Executive: Take this to Marketing, would you.

 

(They disappear into a cave. We hear footsteps and a heavy door opening.)

 

Secretary's Voice: Just follow me.

 

Mr. Chigger's Voice: Oh thank you.

 

(Cut to a shopping street. Camera pans in close-up across road surface.)

 

Secretary's Voice: Oh, be careful.

 

Mr. Chigger's Voice: Yes, nearly tripped.

 

Secretary's Voice: Be there soon.

 

Mr. Chigger's Voice: Good. It's a long way, isn't it?

 

Secretary's Voice: Oh, get hold of that - watch it.

 

Voice: Morning.

 

Secretary's Voice: Morning. Upstairs. Be careful, it's very steep. Almost there.

 

(Camera reaches a GPO tent in middle of road.)

 

Voice: Morning.

 

Secretary: Morning. (they emerge from the tent) Will you come this way, please. (cut to interior office, another identical secretary at the desk) In here, please.

 

Mr. Chigger: Thank you. (he enters and first secretary trips off he approaches the second secretary) Hello, I saw your advertisement for flying lessons and I'd like to make an appointment.

 

Second Secretary: Well, Mr. Anemone's on the phone at the moment, but I'm sure he won't mind if you go on in. Through here.

 

Mr. Chigger: Thank you.

 

(He goes through door. Mr. Anemone is suspended by a wire about nine feet off the ground. He is on the telephone.)

 

Mr. Anemone: Ah, won't be a moment. Make yourself at home. (into phone) No, no, well look, you can ask Mr. Maudling but I'm sure he'll never agree. Not for fifty shillings ... no... no. Bye-bye Gordon. Bye-bye. Oh dear. Bye-bye. (he throws receiver at telephone but misses) Missed. Now Mr. er...

 

Mr. Chigger: Chigger.

 

Mr. Anemone: Mr. Chigger. So, you want to learn to fly?

 

Mr. Chigger: Yes.

 

Mr. Anemone: Right, well, up on the table, arms out, fingers together, knees bent...

 

Mr. Chigger: No, no, no.

 

Mr. Anemone: (very loudly) Up on the table! (Mr. Chigger gets on the table) Arms out, fingers together, knees bent, now, head well forward. Now, flap your arms. Go on, flap, faster... faster... faster... faster, faster, faster, faster - now jump! (Mr. Chigger jumps and lands on the floor) Rotten. Rotten. You're no bloody use at all. You're an utter bloody wash-out. You make me sick, you weed!

 

Mr. Chigger: Now look here...

 

Mr. Anemone: All right, all right. I'll give you one more chance, get on the table...

 

Mr. Chigger: Look, I came here to learn how to fly an aeroplane.

 

Mr. Anemone: A what?

 

Mr. Chigger: I came here to learn how to fly an aeroplane.

 

Mr. Anemone: (sarcasticaly) Oh, 'an aeroplane'. Oh, I say, we are grand, aren't we? (imitation posh accent) 'Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I'm off to play the grand piano'. 'Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.' Now get on the table!

 

Mr. Chigger: Look. No one in the history of the world has ever been able to fly like that.

 

Mr. Anemone: Oh, I suppose mater told you that while you were out riding. Well, if people can't fly what am I doing up here?

 

Mr. Chigger: You're on a wire.

 

Mr. Anemone: Oh, a wire. I'm on a wire, am I?

 

Mr. Chigger: Of course you're on a bloody wire.

 

Mr. Anemone: I am not on a wire. I am flying.

 

Mr. Chigger: You're on a wire.

 

Mr. Anemone: I am flying.

 

Mr. Chigger: You're on a wire.

 

Mr. Anemone: I'll show you whether I'm on a wire or not. Give me the 'oop.

 

Mr. Chigger: What?

 

Mr. Anemone: Oh, I don't suppose we know what an 'oop is. I suppose pater thought they were a bit common, except on the bleedin' croquet lawn.

 

Mr. Chigger: Oh, a hoop.

 

Mr. Anemone: 'Oh an hoop.' (taking hoop) Thank you, your bleeding Highness. Now. Look. (he waves hoop over head and feet)

 

Mr. Chigger: Go on, right the way along.

 

Mr. Anemone: All right, all right, all right. (he moves hoop all the way along himself allowing the wire to pass through obvious gap in hoop's circumference). Now, where's the bleeding wire, then?

 

Mr. Chigger: That hoop's got a hole in.

 

Mr. Anemone: Oh Eton and Madgalene. The hoop has an hole in. Of course it's got a hole in, it wouldn't be a hoop otherwise, would it, mush!

 

Mr. Chigger: No, there's a gap in the middle, there.

 

Mr. Anemone: Oh, a gahp. A gahp in one's hhhhhoop. Pardon me, but I'm off to play the grand piano.

 

Mr. Chigger: Look, I can see you're on a wire - look, there it is.

 

Mr. Anemone: Look, I told you, you bastard, I'm not on a wire.

 

Mr. Chigger: You are. There is.

 

Mr. Anemone: There isn't.

 

Mr. Chigger: Is.

 

Mr. Anemone: Isn't!

 

Mr. Chigger: Is!

 

Mr. Anemone: Isn't!

 

Mr. Chigger: Is!

 

Mr. Anemone: Isn't!

 

Mr. Chigger: Is!

 

Mr. Anemone: Isn't!!

 

Mr. Chigger: Is!!!

 

Voice Over: Anyway, this rather pointless bickering went on for some time until...