Butler Rhod Gilbert's Work Experience

I'm Rhod Gilbert, stand-up comedian.

People tell me I've got the toughest job in town, but I'm sure I'll find other things far more difficult,

so I'm trying something completely different.

This is my work experience and this week I'm a butler.

I had no idea how to prepare for being a butler.

I'd seen the Ferrero Rocher ad and I knew a bloke with a conservatory

but the closest I'd come to a lord was a Lloyd - my flatmate,

comedian Lloyd Langford.

So for the next few hours, Gilbert the Butler butlered the butt off

Lord Lloyd of Port Talbot.

BELL RINGS

FARTS

PLOP!

Washing Lloyd's old boy was the closest I've come to the old boys' network.

I've sat first class on a train a few times,

but a free coffee and a seat that reclines three-quarters of an inch

doesn't make you Princess Margaret.

I needed some serious butler training.

Hello, it's Rhod for butler school.

Not even a thank you, come in.

Nothing. Just the door slides away, ominously.

Cardiff's only posh building - Mansion House.

I felt as out of place as someone with a social life

on Deal Or No Deal.

I was here to meet bona fide butler Anthony Seddon Holland.

Today Holland would attempt to prove that you could polish a turd

by turning me into a butler.

-Go through into the lounge, sir.

-Thank you, Holland.

-Take a seat, Mr Gilbert.

-This is very like my lounge.

-It is?

-No.

-Please make yourself comfortable.

-This is comfortable.

What happens now, Holland? I feel awkward with you standing there.

-I'm sorry.

-Do you not normally sit down?

No, sir, I would not normally sit down.

What's going to be the biggest challenge?

It feels like for me the biggest challenge is going to be taking it seriously.

I don't mean that in a derogatory way. It's just such an odd world.

I'll have to keep my tongue firmly between my teeth

for the next few days.

You're also have to think about multiple things at the same time

and do multiple things at the same time. Not everybody can do it.

One of the key things in our profession is small detail.

One of the things a lot of people in our society don't care about any more.

If you were to look at this bed and this general area,

what would you say, if anything, is wrong with it?

-Is it upside down?

-No.

-I don't know. Absolutely nothing's wrong with that.

-Nothing at all?

These cushions are not straight.

-Not straight?!

-The zipper is showing.

-It should not be showing.

-That's terrible.

-The telephone is pointing...

-Let me guess what's wrong with it.

-Go on.

-Absolutely nothing.

-You don't think so?

-No.

Do you not think it would be more appropriate, sir, if the phone

was actually adjusted so it was facing the bed?

So whoever was there could see the number that comes up.

-Now you mention it, yes.

-Body language is very important.

I tend to keep my hands in front of me there

because there's less chance of me touching myself.

What?!

-For instance, right now, I have an itch on my top lip.

-Do you?

-I want to scratch it.

-Allow me, Holland.

Thank you. That's very considerate, sir.

All part of the service. I'm getting used to it.

If there's a lady and you start touching yourself it's embarrassing for everyone.

It is.

I had to learn more boring, pointless information

than someone doing a PhD on armrests.

But if I only remembered one thing,

it was not to grope myself violently while serving dinner.

Come in from the left.

Be aware of this one. Keep it out the way.

Drop this one down silently.

Stealth waitering. Egg and chips with a Parmesan jus.

Thank you. If you're unsure as to whether the person's finished...

If I come in and go like this, what are you going to do?

I'd probably leave it for a minute and when it gets awkward go, "What?"

Somebody drops a spoon, fork, or knife on the floor,

you place the clean item of cutlery on there.

You close the napkin.

If it's a knife or a spoon,

then you would come in from that side to the person.

It's a big intro for a spoon.

It is quite a big intro, but spoons are very important, sir.

-Think where we'd be without them.

-We'd have our hands full of soup.

Shall I show you my sock drawer?

My sock drawer would be literally like that.

This is one serious iron you've got here.

Whenever I do a corporate gig or something,

if I haven't ironed my shirt, I just keep my jacket on.

You're doing it wrong.

I'm pushing in there. Look.

Ironing is boring, admit it. Admit it, Holland.

-I live to iron, sir.

-What if a woman gives me a dress to iron or a bra.

-We don't iron bras normally anyway.

-Do we not?

I thought you iron everything. This is so cool. I am definitely...

Hang on, I've lost the...

The bottom of the iron's fallen off. Argh!

Is that hot?

I thought it would have cooled down. We haven't used it for ages.

Are you all right? When picking up the Teflon plate...

I was really enjoying that!

..make sure you haven't been using it recently, otherwise it may be hot.

I've never seen a Teflon plate on the bottom of an iron before.

Health and safety regulations.

Just waiting for Anthony to bring me some ice.

Anthony!

Here we go, Mr Rhod.

We have a nice bath.

Fantastic.

Thank you.

How big a part of a butler's day is polishing?

Probably three or four hours a day.

-Three or four hours a day polishing silver?

-That's basically your job.

At what point in a four-hour polishing stint does it get boring?

I can see it's a job.

I can see there's job satisfaction, pride in doing things right,

getting things just so.

I can see all the normal human instincts,

but the end result, I just think, "Why?!"

Everyone's got a minimum standard.

I don't care if I can see my face in the end of somebody's shoes or the silver tray.

If somebody was serving me in a restaurant, as long as they haven't

got dog poo under their fingernails, that's good enough for me.

Four hours relentless buffing later,

I had to touch myself to check I was still alive.

Holland had polished this turd as best he could.

Time to stick it in a suit and see if it would float.

What's the suit for, exactly?

-I want you to make me look like him.

-OK.

Ready, Anthony? Close your eyes.

I will do. I was born ready.

-I want to surprise you on our wedding day.

-It's a transformation.

I keep going like that.

Every time you come at me I assume I'm in customs.

You look quite splendid, actually.

Really? Can I do a twirl, Holland?

If you feel strongly about that, sir, yes, you may. Very good.

Time for me to tell you where you'll be working.

You'll be working at Fonmon Castle

with Sir Brooke Boothby and his family.

You are going to do everything we have run through today, sir,

but you're going to be doing it for real.

Serving breakfast, getting up the family,

serving lunch and a formal dinner for 15 in the evening.

A formal dinner for 15?

Yes, a formal dinner for 15.

Turd in a butler suit, Batman.

The closest I've come to a dinner party

is offering a plumber a biscuit.

I had no idea what to expect next morning as I headed to Fonmon Castle near Cardiff.

I hadn't been this nervous since I tried to sneak Tom Cruise

onto a ride at Alton Towers.

Who lives in a castle?

Sir Brooke's house reminded me of my own family home,

in much the same way as when he opened the door,

Sir Brooke reminded me of Dizzee Rascal.

-Sir Boothby.

-Good morning to you.

-Good morning.

-Welcome to Fonmon.

-Thank you.

It's quite a remarkable place. How long has this been in your family?

My ancestor, Colonel Philip Jones, good revolutionary Welshman,

nicked it off the Normans who'd originally built it.

I imagine it's probably yours now, after that long.

Sir Brooke showed me how the other half lived.

Oil paintings of his ancestors, a massive library, servants quarters,

rooms full of tableware, and a mind-blowing spoon.

Beautifully-made spoon. They're so elegant,

the way they're put together.

I'm giving this dinner party tomorrow, therefore I'm looking

for some assistance in the form of a butler to manage the evening.

That absolutely terrifies me.

If I needed any more reason to be nervous, the next day's dinner party

was in honour of the Earl of Bradford,

Sir Brooke's friend who had recently married.

Apart from not touching myself in front of Lady Bradford,

I was unsure of my role.

The basic job of a butler is to make people feel good.

If you can achieve that or help us achieve it,

then that would be a successful dinner.

If all else failed, I knew exactly how to make the guests feel good.

I'd show them Sir Brooke's spoon.

There was loads to do before tomorrow's dinner party

so Sir Brooke gave me my first task,

confessing he had an embarrassing problem.

I've got some gaps in my cellar, so I'm hoping that you can go off

and come back with some possible recommendations.

On top of that, you're going to take with you a bottle of our port

so you can practise taking the port out into the decanters.

But it is fairly precise

and you will be handling a very fine and very rare wine.

I want you to do a little practice.

Great. Tomorrow I'd be in charge of the posh booze as well.

I knew less about very fine, very rare wine than Ian Beale,

but I'd heard that far beneath Cardiff Castle

lived a magic wine Hobbit who could help me.

-Hello, Rhod. Nice to meet you.

-Hello.

There is nothing difficult about wine-tasting except for spitting.

The very sad news is I've forgotten the spittoon.

I'm prepared to be professional, toughen my nipples and drink it.

My dear fellow, I congratulate you on your courage.

We'd better start, then, by tasting some wines.

-You've got two nostrils.

-Thank you.

It's not just wine you know about. Quite an expert on the human face.

Yes, getting wine there...

-..and wine there.

-Good.

Wine, wine, wine again.

-Are you getting plums on your nose?

-Stewed plums.

-Stewed plums?

I'll go further. I can give you the address these plums were steamed at.

-It's got a silver award this one as well.

-Decanter magazine liked it.

I've never heard of Decanter magazine.

-They probably haven't heard of you.

-Well said!

-Do you think Sir Brooke would like that?

-I've only met him today.

I don't know anything about him. If he doesn't like it, I'll have it.

Forget this whole butler thing this evening. Let's go on the pop.

You could lead a young man astray.

We'll bring you one if you're a very good boy.

I can't remember what we were talking about.

We're talking about why we decant vintage port.

Sir Brooke Boothby seems to be making a really big deal about this port business.

Are my guests really going to be able to tell

if I've done it by the book?

Lord Bradford, one of your guests, he has an exceptionally fine palate.

So he will know whether the port is treated,

decanted properly, whether I've...

Oh, spiffing, more pressure.

Not only was the port I'd be decanting tomorrow

worth more than a signed photo of the Loch Ness monster,

but if the port didn't taste like what it ought,

Sir Brooke would stew my plums.

The wine Hobbit smelt my anxiety and gave me a magic wine-tasting thing

for good luck, and a final tip that I'd never forget.

A bottle of champagne should be opened with no more sound

than a duchess's fart.

There is a duchess coming tomorrow, so I could ask her

to break wind to give us a benchmark.

FEINT HISS

Well done.

-The duchess has barely lifted her leg.

-Congratulations.

Master, you are now certainly an opener of champagne.

If you do half as badly as I've done today, you'll be a great success.

Thank you.

Unfortunately, the wine Hobbit had cast an evil spell on me

because by the time I'd got back I'd forgotten everything he said.

I needed to be up at dawn to remove the currants

from Sir Brooke's muesli,

but the Hobbit's spell kept me up all night doing drunken role play.

Can I offer you an aperitif, Lady Bradford?

I'm really bad at role play.

Holland said, whatever you do when you talking to a lady,

in fact when you're talking to anybody,

a blanket rule in fact, blanket ban, don't touch yourself.

Lady Bradford, I presume?

My name? Thank you for asking, Lady Bradford, very kind of you.

Stop it, Lady Bradford. Really!

Don't touch yourself. Lady Bradford,

I am Gilbert.

Gilbert the butler.

Next morning I felt like my head had been decanted.

My mind was as cloudy as a duchess's fart.

My master was up at dawn and I had to be up before him.

What's happened to him? Where is he?

Is breakfast coming today or tomorrow?

Gilbert the butler was supposed to deliver breakfast at 8:30am

to Sir Brooke Boothby in his room

and I can hear him pottering about in the kitchen.

Good morning, Sir Brooke.

Gilbert, good morning.

Or is it good afternoon?

I do apologise, sir. I had a sleeping malfunction.

I'd given up on you on breakfast.

-You can feed the currants to the birds.

-I can do that, sir.

You could make me a cup of tea

because I still haven't had my cup of tea.

OK. Where will you be, sir?

Back up at my office because having got something inside me I feel human.

He's had to remove his own currants from his muesli.

13 currants, unlucky for some.

Mr Brooke had to remove them all himself.

Attention to detail, you can see one of the currants is actually damp.

Obviously the milk was poured on and the currant was only spotted later.

So attention to detail, Gilbert the butler would spot things like that.

Teskar, breakfast is served!

Come hither!

Can I help you, ladies? The house is not quite spotless yet. Back to your positions.

-Yes, sir.

-Thank you.

My hangover was almost as impressive as Sir Brooke's spoon,

and he'd almost lost a hand on a jagged muesli flake.

But I had to focus. We had a dinner party to organise, and...

-Oh, not more wine!

-Mind your head.

Nothing to damage, sir, I assure you. How old are these wines, sir?

Well, these two are only about 12 years old.

So they're not great age. The red one is about 20 odd years old.

And the port we're going to get out in a minute is 40, 50 years old.

Please don't put it on there, sir.

I've never had the privilege of a camera pointing at my backside

as I go up stairs before!

It's an equally good side, sir.

I've got to get these to the fridge.

Gilbert? It's time we got the shooting stuff ready.

Very well, sir.

I'm on my way!

Sir Brooke and I are about to go shooting.

I understand we're going clay pigeon shooting.

At least I hope the pigeons are made of clay.

If the pigeons are made of pigeon,

I may have a little difficulty shooting them.

What I need you to do is unpack the ammunition out of those little boxes

and put them into those two bags.

That will give us plenty of ammunition to shoot.

They are the right sort of pigeons.

They're not going to shit on your head.

Now I'm in my new tweed garb,

I should probably change my persona slightly.

I feel less "Hello, sir, very good, sir, three bags full, sir",

and more "All right, sir? How are you doing?"

"Very good, sir, on the double, sir. I'll be with you in a moment, sir,

I'm just having a dump, me and the wife."

-All right, girls?

-Morning. It's nice meeting you.

Nice meeting you too, girls.

-You are staying tonight?

-No, I'll be on my way.

We won't see you in the morning then?

You won't see me in the morning, girls.

Not unless I pop in your room! Ha-har!

We have two full bags of cartridges.

-That's right.

-Would sir like some help ramming it home?

This sleeve hasn't been used. It's just gone a bit stiff.

There we are.

Good shot, sir!

I say, sir. Don't worry, sirs.

In the words of Meat Loaf, two out of four ain't bad.

This is one of the most dangerous possible things that can happen

-in shooting, if a man is loading for a 20 and a 12.

-Absolutely.

If you put one of those down my gun, it will go halfway down the barrel

and jam, and then it will explode in my face and yours.

-Is that the right one, sir?

-Yeah.

-Double sure, sir?

Pop him in.

I was a little concerned when they asked me

to reload different rifles, shotguns.

Apparently if you get those two mixed up,

then I could have blown Sir Brooke's head off.

Which would have been most inopportune before the dinner party.

I don't mind waiting on Sir Brooke,

but I have no intention of pouring soup down a headless neck.

The battlefield was littered with dead and dying clay pigeons.

Valiant Sir Brooke wanted to finish the injured ones off

with the butt of his rifle, but I held him back.

The dinner party was looming

and my day was packed as tightly as a horse's Y-fronts.

HUMS 'WHOLE LOTTA LOVE'

# You need coolin', baby I'm not foolin'

# I'm gonna send you back to schoolin'... #

876, 877...

God, look at the state of these gloves - look at that.

I look like Paul Daniels after he's had a nervous breakdown.

Holland would have a heart attack if he could see this cushion.

This is the monster fire in the library

where the guests will be before dinner. Look at that.

You could properly brulee creme with that.

How aristocratic is that? Rather than those little firelighters you get,

Sir Brooke lights a fire with champagne corks.

Apparently they do the trick just as well.

All I've got to do now is make sure

Lady Bradford doesn't mistake this for a hairdryer.

Three hours later, this grotty old dump looked as good as Wimpey show home.

So Claire, the housekeeper, introduced me to my crack team of waiting staff.

He's running the show, so you've all got to answer to Rhod. OK?

-Mr Gilbert.

-Mr Gilbert, yes.

-There we are.

-Got it?

The plan is that you lot are so good, you'll make it look like I know what I'm doing.

Ollie is laying out the candlesticks.

As you can see, they have to be 55 centimetres exactly apart, each one.

That one is a centimetre out.

This is 36, this one.

Someone somewhere cares.

It's not me, it's not Ollie.

That's not fair. We do care.

(But not deep down!)

'Before you could say, "I think Lord and Lady Bradford have arrived, sir"...'

I think Lord and Lady Bradford have arrived, sir.

'..Lord and Lady Bradford arrived. I think.'

Did you have a pleasant trip?

-When we found the place.

-Oh, really?

-We got slightly lost.

-Oh, did you?

-What am I taking?

-Our guests of honour were the first to arrive.

Thankfully, they were lovely, but we were off - the night had started.

I'm pretty much winging it now. This is kind of using common sense,

because I haven't been told how to do any of this,

how to greet people or whether to take the car.

I'm a slightly nervous driver, and the last thing I want to do now

is write off this Jag in the side of a 12th Century castle.

The pressure was mounting. Next, I had to decant the port.

He'd been keeping it for 47 years.

I'd rather have pulled my pants down in the library and shouted,

"Anyone for billiards?" than mess this up.

Right, I'm pretty nervous, it has to be said.

This port is two years older than I am.

I have absolutely no idea how much this bottle of port is worth.

It could be hundreds, it could be thousands.

You can see how much... Oh, shit!

The cork has snapped in half.

It's broken off in there.

Oh, dear, this is going terribly wrong.

Come on.

Oh, no - it's just disintegrating!

I'm going to push that in there. Just push it in.

I knew this would go wrong. Look, there are bits of cork coming out.

Keep it steady, apparently. That's the key.

Not too fast, not too slow.

However, I've just pushed the cork into the bottle with my finger,

so I'm doing it as bloody fast as I can

before somebody comes along and catches me.

With the guests due any minute everything had to be perfect.

These people were born with a silver spoon in their mouths.

One of them had a crystal wine decanter

sticking out of his bottom as well.

I had to remember all the pointless detail Holland taught me.

This napkin is not straight.

I'm finding this really stressful.

This is not a world I know anything about. I've never come into contact with it.

I don't know why, it's just daft.

They're just people, and they're nice people.

They have a different way of doing things.

And their way is unbelievably particular.

Just as I thought we were ready, I remembered I'd forgotten to change.

If Sir Brooke caught me in my day suit after dark,

he'd have my guts for garters, and my stewed plums for cuff links.

Yeah. Brilliant.

-Rhod, lots of people are waiting outside.

-Shit!

There's about 10 people outside.

What's taken all this time?

Apologies. I am so, so very, very sorry...

for the delay.

Would you like us to go out again?

-Eh...!

-The wings of your collar should be underneath your tie.

I appreciate you putting me right.

If you could stagger yourselves...

Like Heathrow, every two minutes, somebody lands!

Don't squabble over who was first.

Good evening. Good evening. Do come in.

Mr and Mrs John Humphries!

It's like Noel's House Party!

Good evening, do come in.

SPEAKS IN FRENCH

Hello. Sorry to have kept you.

Sir Jeffrey and Lady Inkin!

I can't help doing it slightly like I'm compering a gig.

"Your next act, Sir Jeffrey and Lady Inkin!"

The champagne opening had gone well.

As luck would have it, one of the guests had broken wind loudly

just as I uncorked it.

There was just time to swat up on the wine.

READS FRENCH LABEL

And that's from St Esteve.

So let's look at the wine - look at the wine, Gilbert!

Look at it!

Done that.

My Lord, ladies, and gentlemen, dinner is served!

Well done, Gilbert!

It's the first thing you got right all evening. Splendid.

This is like something out of a costume drama.

And their agenda is, come to a dinner party at Sir Brooke's house,

not to make a nice little TV programme and indulge Rhod Gilbert.

They're serious.

God save the Queen.

God bless our food and make us ever thankful, Amen.

ALL: Amen.

While they said Grace, I said a prayer of my own.

"Our father, please don't let there be a ladybird in the potatoes."

You've got a problem. Not only is it a ladybird,

but it is one of the invading foreign Harlequin ladybirds.

Are you sure this isn't just idle prejudice, sir?

No. We've therefore drowned it in the claret, and we wish you to remove it.

-It must die.

-And should I return the claret, sir?

I tried another prayer.

"Lord, please don't let all the wine corks break off in the bottles."

Oh, shit!

Bloody cork snapped in the bottle again! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Stress, stress, stress, stress.

It was almost as if the good Lord was deliberately sabotaging my efforts.

And by good Lord, I mean God, not Lord Bradford.

Although he was about to throw a spanner in the works and all.

The proverbial has hit the fan in a major way.

One of the staff has dropped some spoons.

There was some leek and potato soup in the spoon.

The spoon has flipped up, and the leek and potato soup,

to cut a long story short, is on the back of Lord Bradford.

I could just sneak up and sort of sponge it off him as he's there,

but people are going to say,

"Why is the butler sponging Lord Bradford in the middle of a conversation?"

I'm out of my depth.

I'm going to speak to Sir Brooke and see how he thinks I should proceed. Thank you.

The dress code was "dinner jacket", but Lord Bradford was taking it a bit too literally.

Sir Brooke told me to deal with it directly and discreetly.

But what could I do? I was just a half-polished turd in a butler suit.

He was the Earl of Bradford,

looking like a contestant on Come Dine On Me.

Lord Bradford, can I interrupt you briefly?

It appears that some leek and potato soup

has found its way onto the back of your jacket.

And to give us an opportunity to remove the jacket

and make an attempt at cleaning it and returning it to you.

-Is this piss taking, or genuine?

-Genuine.

They're going to start thinking that, you know...

That the entertainment has arrived!

If things got any worse, I'd have to get Sir Brooke's spoon out.

I dealt with Soupgate as discretely as I could.

Leek and potato soup everywhere.

To his credit, Lord Bradford laughed it off.

Well, we sponged it off, but you get my drift. Time for some fun.

Not Sir Brooke's spoon, but a raucous romp of a party game,

called, Guess which of two bottles of the same 1963 port has been disturbed

at some point in the last decade, and which has remained horizontal in a cellar since 1966?

Well, one's well travelled and one doesn't travel at all.

A little game, my Lord, ladies and gentlemen.

When I was growing up we played a similar game called, Guess which milk is off.

But it was never this much fun.

It's more complex.

-More complex?

-More bitter.

OK. The answer is that blue has remained here since 1966.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

There's nothing wrong

with preferring a port that has moved, absolutely nothing.

Dare to be different.

Guess the disturbed port had exhausted the happy gathering,

so they retired to the library to sit down somewhere else.

It had been stressful, but I'd had a great time with lovely people.

We were very different, and I knew I wasn't cut out

to be a butler because I just couldn't take it seriously.

But I was keen to find out what they made of me.

We need to have some comment on how we've got on.

I would say, Brooke, that Gilbert has been a most refreshing butler,

in that he's been much less intimidating

-than butlers I've come across in the past.

-Here, here!

Rhod, unfortunately, is over blessed with too much charm,

so that he gets involved with conversations with the guests,

and forgets about what he should be doing.

I would not employ him as a butler.

But I'd be delighted to have him as a fellow guest at a dinner party.

Thank you!

That's it. I'm a butler no more.

They're a really nice bunch of people.

I didn't find it demeaning in any way.

And there's a real satisfaction and reward in getting things just right,

in getting things perfect, the detail.

I can't switch off that part of my brain that always

wants to try and be funny and try and make people laugh.

It's still a world of weird protocols and weird details.

You're more of a part of it than I am, aren't you?

Sit, Teskar! Sit!

I remember when I was a butler, that dog did everything I said.

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