The Rogue Speed Bump The Wright Way

Victoria, are you going to be long in there?

It's just I'm late for work.

Victoria won't get out of the bathroom.

She will do, Dad, when she's finished.

She's female, Susan, she's in a bathroom.

She's never going to be finished.

Have a cup of tea.

I had enough of this with your mother.

The hours I spent hanging about on the cold lino

with the Daily Mail under me arm

while she marinated herself in melon and mango body butter!

I thought at least when she left me

-I'd be able to get into the bathroom occasionally.

-Every cloud, eh?

Then you drop YOUR lifestyle bombshell. I mean, really, Susan!

What is the point of being a lesbian

if you continue to act like a normal woman?

She's entitled to use the toilet, Dad, she lives here now,

-so there's no point in getting all stressy about it.

-I'm late, Susan,

I'm entitled to be stressy, and thanks to your girlfriend,

I shall to have to ablute in the works' loo,

which I hate because we have those push-button taps,

which are fine in terms of efficient water management

but a total pain if you actually want to wash your hands.

Dad, I do taps all day.

Well, you're the expert. Can you explain the thinking?

You push the button, the water comes out. End of.

No, Sue, not end of, far from end of,

because when you take your hand off the button to wash it,

the water stops.

Am I mad to call that potty?

You have to catch the water.

It's actually quite a skill.

Push, catch! Push, catch!

It could be an Olympic sport.

"Ooh, the big Russian nearly got his fingers wet there!"

Sozzers, Gerald. Blame Jordan's new boob heartache.

Apparently she's terrified to go on planes.

"Oh, my God!" MAKES POPPING NOISES

Anyway, it's free now.

Too late, Victoria, the moment has passed. I have got to get to work...

Oh, no!

-Hang on, I am sorry, but no.

-What?!

How many times do I have to tell you girls,

you have to scrape plates before putting them in the dish washer?

Thought you were in a hurry.

This machine has a filter, Susan.

It has a finite capacity!

You appear to be under the impression that the KenBeam 450

can deal with an entire chicken carcass.

I'm sorry but this is all wrong.

Dad! I just loaded that.

And I am reloading it, Susan. Properly.

Gerald, this is psycho. I'm actually quite scared.

Everything is in the wrong place.

They're dirty dishes, they're in the dishwasher. Where do you want 'em? In the fridge?

But you can't just dump 'em in willy-nilly, Susan.

-There has to be a plan!

-A plan?

Well, if not a plan,

at least some elementary ergonomic spatial awareness.

Surely you can see that?

Dad, it's stuff in a dishwasher. You just bung it in.

Oh, brilliant, Susan. That is brilliant!

Not only is that mug now occupying a space

where I could get four cereal bowls, if properly stacked,

but the handle is now in danger of poking through the tray

and obstructing the spinny thingy.

Oh, my God. So a YouTube moment.

Vic, shut up!

But this is mug rage!

If the spinny thingy doesn't spin, it can't distribute water evenly...

-Dad...

-Bits are missed,

which get spot-welded to the plates during the drying process

so that you have to get at them with your thumb nail and a bit of spit

before you put 'em back in the cupboard.

This whole load will have to be re-built from bottom up.

I'll get at it this evening after me Horlicks.

Right, I have got to get to work!

Bye, girls!

Everything all right, Gerald?

Why wouldn't it be, Clive?

Isn't there any paper in the toilet?

-What?!

-Thought you were using the basin as one of those bum-washers.

Bee-detts they call them.

Oh, don't be revolting, Clive.

As if I'd wash me backside in a sink.

I'm not French.

I'm just trying to get the water to flow.

It keeps stopping when I take my hand off.

Would you like me to press it for you?

Yes, Clive, that would be very helpful.

But be gentle. The pressure's a bit erratic...

Sorry.

Blimey, Clive!

What's that going to look like at the morning meeting?

Like you've wet yourself.

I'm going to have to dry them under the blow drier.

SOFT WHOOSHING

I say "blow". "Gasp" would be a better word.

I'd get a more hot airflow wafting me trousers

if I stood behind a flatulent hamster.

Cleaner in the toilet, gents.

Mr Wright, what you doing?

Oh, really, Mrs Jonson.

I am drying me trousers because they got a bit wet

when Clive pressed the knob too hard.

You two should get a room.

Vic, I'm on a job. I'm busy.

You're just going to have to work it out yourself.

But I don't know whether to put it in the top tray or the bottom tray,

and then what if it obstructs the spinny thingy?

I am frozen with indecision.

Health and safety, ladies and gentlemen. Safety and health.

That is the name of this department.

Not "common sense".

We are not called council "common sense" officers.

The borough doesn't pay us

to be "reasonable" or to "exercise our judgment".

It pays us to minimise risk...

even if no such risk exists.

Ours is a proud record.

This is the department that introduced the static seesaw...

..the horizontal slide...

Babies must wear helmets when breastfeeding near the swings...

..because of us.

We are society's last best hope.

We are... Clive,

are you eating whilst wearing your security laminate?

I can't help it, Gerald. It's comfort eating.

I do it because I can't lose weight.

You should try that great new diet, Clive.

It's called a bit of self-discipline!

So...to business.

On our advice, council has now completed the massive task

of installing speed bumps at 50-metre intervals

on every road in Baselricky, and we at Team Health and Safety

have measured every single one.

Three days crawling round the town centre on me hands and knees.

Bit like Christmas, really.

As you know, I have discovered one rogue erection

which is six millimetres proud of its optimum legal altitude.

Clive, talk me through my proud erection.

We are still talking about speed bumps, aren't we, Gerald?

What else, Clive?

Right. Good.

Well, what we're looking at here is a whole new bump instillation process.

-A B-I-P, yes.

-You want me to say B-I-P, Gerald?

Always use acronyms, Clive.

They speed communication and thus increase efficiency.

Oh. Right. So the B-I-P...

-Or bip.

-You think bip?

-I do, Clive.

"Bip" is user friendly,

it's less alienating to the public

and even quicker to say than "B-I-P".

Try it. Bip. B-I-P.

Former faster. Latter slower. Carry on.

Right. Well, the bip will entail...

I'm lost, Gerald. What does "bip" mean again?

Bump instillation process, Bernard.

Spelt B-I-P, but we're saying "bip" to be clearer and to save time.

I'm all over it now.

He's holding us all back, you know.

Clive, guesstimate me on the temporal parameters of the current bip.

Pardon?

How long will a new bump take?

Well, it's going to be a big job, Gerald.

A two-phase operation.

-A T-P-O, yes.

-Or teepo.

Talk me through the teepo, Clive.

Well, phase one begins with

a bump-alignment level-location situation...

A B-A-double-L-S...

..followed by an upsizing procedure.

..U-P.

So what we're looking at here, Team Health and Safety, is a complete....

BALLS UP.

We may need to fine-tune our acronyms on this one.

I love a road closure.

I presume we're talking hard-hat-and-high-vis-only area, Gerald?

Absolutely, Malika. I don't care if the Queen herself turns up.

Risk management does not do exceptions.

"Sorry, Your Majesty, but no high vis, no access."

Road closures. High-vis-only area.

This is going to be the best birthday I ever had.

Birthday, Malika? Is it your birthday?

Friday. Cake and Asti Spumante after work.

No presents.

And when I say no presents, I mean, of course, presents.

But not saucy ones. I hate that at office birthdays.

Pathetic, sex-starved blokes giving rude presents.

A fella once gave me some fruit-flavoured condoms.

-I wrapped the raspberry one round his neck.

-Blimey!

I won't tell you what I did with the pineapple.

Vic, where's the receipt for that printer ink you bought?

I don't know. In my bag maybe?

I'm not really into structure.

Vic, we've been through this.

-All receipts go straight on the fridge.

-All of them?

Like, I totally got some nice lacy knickers from Girl Shack today.

Hashtag I love new pants.

All of them. I'll sort out the ones we can claim against tax.

Tax is evil.

Tax pays for the NHS, Vic.

Um, actually, you're wrong there, because the NHS is free. Derr.

The reason it's free is because we pay for it, Vic.

Dude, if we paid for it, then it wouldn't be free.

I thought you were supposed to be the clever one.

Evening, girls. Long day and still the dishwasher to do.

But first, Horlicks!

Happy to make a jug if people are interested.

Might even put a drop of Malibu in it.

Dad, I wanted to talk to you.

Fire away, Susan. I'm all ears.

I want to talk to you about Mum.

Mum? What about her?

She's coming to tea.

Coming here? Seriously?

Yeah. Next week.

You see, Susan! You see!

I said she'd crack first!

Ta-da-da-da-da-da!

"Never coming back"? Ha! That didn't last long, did it?

High-ten, girls. High-ten.

Gerald, two high-fives do not make a high-ten.

Bless.

She didn't ask, Dad. I did.

Ah, right. I see.

-And she's bringing Kyle.

-Kyle?!

We need to get to know him, Dad.

As long as he's Mum's boyfriend, he's family.

Family?!

He won't last.

Quite frankly, I don't know what your mother sees in him.

Um, derr.

He's a personal trainer. Where's the attraction?

Double derr.

Buff guns. Tight butt.

Iron-hard pecker.

Pectorals, Vic.

Yeah, also pecker. Have you seen him in spandex?

It's like a third leg.

Oh...

The bloke turned my stomach the first morning he showed up,

jogging up and down in his low-cut Lycra.

Not a hair on his chest, Sue. Not one.

I mean, I want to be generous and assume he's got alopecia

or he's having a bit of chemo, but the truth is he waxes it.

-Your mother's boyfriend waxes his chest.

-Dad...

I mean, nobody objects to a bit of male grooming, trim your ears

and eyebrows when they start going a bit pubic, yes,

but shaving your chest?

It's not normal.

It is these days, Dad, and Kyle's coming to tea.

Well, if he leaves moisturiser on me World of Leather,

he's paying for the cleaning.

Dad, listen to yourself! I'm worried about you.

-Don't worry about me, Sue. I'm fine.

-You're not fine.

You've been hurt and you're not facing up to it.

How? How am I not facing it?

Well, by...by banging on all the time.

It's why Mum left.

You were banging on while she grabbed her car keys.

Susan, she crossed the line.

She left a bit of butter in the Marmite!

A LOT of butter in the Marmite.

And also a lot of Marmite in the butter.

I said, "Valerie, it's very simple.

"Just wipe the knife on the edge of the toast before..."

And she left, Dad, and I don't blame her.

In fact, if Vic was bringing in a bit more money, we'd leave too.

Getting there, Sue.

TEXT ALERT

In fact, boom! Looks like I've got a DJ-ing gig right here.

Safe, mah bruv.

Dat was nuff sick las' nigh', hangin' wit dah yute an' stuff.

I is tellin' you.

So, guy, me is lookin' to spin mah fat beats for da ladies

an' da brethrin!

Yeah, make some fierce noise, raht?

Rinse it out!

Oh, sorry, Mrs Collins!

Yeah. No, when Jonathan comes in,

can you tell him Victoria returned his call?

Thanks.

What?

You were putting on that voice again, babes.

No! Really?

Oh, my God, I so don't know when I'm doing it.

You're not thinking of leaving, are you, girls?

I think I'd rattle about a bit in this house on me own.

Well, we're not going to be here forever, Dad.

-You have to start rebuilding your own life.

-I don't know what you mean.

Having the courage to say "I've been hurt but I'm still here.

"This is my life and I'm going to live it to the full!"

You mean upgrade our Sky subscription?

That's a big step.

No, Dad. Mum's been gone six months.

You're not a monk.

I mean start dating again.

Miaow!

Dating? Who'd want to date me?

Lots of girls. What about that one at work?

The one that Mum always used to say flirted with you at the ballroom dancing night?

Oh, Malika?

She's a bit of all right, isn't she?

Well, yes. She is an impressive woman, no doubt about that.

Feisty. Spirited. Passionate about health and safety.

Not hard to look at, either.

In fact, it's her birthday on Friday.

Well, that's perfect! Buy her a little pressie!

Something girlie.

There's a great new shop on the high street called Girl Shack.

-Me and Sue love it.

-Girl Shack, you say?

Or Ann Summers?

-Yeah? What?

-Yes, I'd like to buy this.

PHONE RINGS

Excuse me. Won't be a moment.

Girl Shack, can I help you?

I'll have to check the stock on the computer.

Excuse me, miss. I am here.

If you can just wait one moment while I deal with this call.

But I was here first. I turned up.

Why should some lazy so-and-so,

who can't even be bothered to get off his fat backside,

get to jump the queue just cos he's picked up the phone?

It's policy to deal with calls as they come in, sir,

otherwise they keep ringing. It's policy.

It's policy. Same excuse the Nazis tried at Nuremburg.

Just following orders!

Excuse me! I was here first.

No, you wasn't. I was here. You was talking to him.

I was only talking to him because I was waiting to talk to her!

Now I'm talking to her and I don't want to talk to you.

You're only talking to her because I was talking to him

while I was waiting to talk to her. That's why I'm talking to you.

-Are you a nutter?

-No, I am not a nutter!

You are, you're a nutter.

I've got these four dance leotards,

but I'm buying them for four different girls at Zumba.

-So do you want to pay for them separately?

-Yeah, and can I get an individual receipt for each one?

Not a problem.

PHONE RINGS Excuse me. Won't be a moment.

Girl Shack, can I help you?

A scarf?

Certainly, if you'd like to come by and see us ..

Here I am and here is the scarf.

But I'm serving her.

But I am on the phone.

I think you are aware of shop policy.

So stick that on your iPod and shuffle it.

TUNELESSLY: # Help, I need somebody

# Crazy right now

# Not just anybody

# Crazy right now. #

That's really good, Vic.

Yeah, it's a mash-up of the Beatles and Beyonce.

I'm calling it Beyonce.

What about the Beatles part?

Derr.

It's the first bit of Beatles and the second bit of Beyonce.

Which is Beyonce.

Well, I suppose I could do the first bit of Beyonce

and the second bit of Beatles.

Which would be Beatles.

Well, I did it.

Ooh, Girl Shack! So you took my advice, then? Very cool, Dad.

Very classy.

It's just a little birthday gift. A nice silk scarf.

Oh, 32 quid. Lucky her...

Oh, no!

They've left the security tag on.

Totally do not try and get it off.

I've tried loads of times in shops.

It just sprays ink all over the changing cubicle.

Blimey. I'm going to have to take it back after work tomorrow.

Don't get me started.

Do not get me started.

So, the balls-up has been completed

and the bip is now pending.

Talk to me, Clive.

Well, Gerald, Malika was right, we've had to close the road.

Nobody likes it.

I do. I flipping love it!

The surrounding streets will get over-congested

so we'll have to close them too.

That'll block the whole town centre from the south.

We'll have to put in temporary buses.

Temporary buses mean temporary bus lanes.

And temporary bus lanes means temporary bus stops,

which means a temporary construction base,

which means...

Portaloos.

You want to be careful with those, mate.

I used one when we had the multicultural festival.

Unfortunately, the lock was broken,

so I thought, "I know, I'll jam the door shut with me foot."

Only opened outwards.

"Hello, ladies!"

We've all been there.

Yes, well, we need to be prepared for every eventuality

and for major congestion and inconvenience.

The tailbacks will go all the way to the M25.

I'm afraid so.

Close it!

Close the M25! We have the authority!

We can do it. Let me lay the first cone!

Now we mustn't leap to judgment, Malika.

Closing the M25 would mean shutting down Heathrow, Gatwick

AND the Channel ports.

That is a big call.

It takes a big man to make a big call, Gerald.

Are you a big man?

Yes, Malika, I am.

If necessary, I am.

I am a...a BIG man!

Good afternoon, miss.

I'd like some service, please, that is unless there's anybody else

in the British Isles that might need you,

in which case, they would naturally take precedence.

-Was there something?

-Yes, there is something.

You sold me this scarf yesterday and you left the security tag on.

Oh, sorry about that. Have you got the receipt?

But why would you need the receipt? You've got the scarf.

A receipt proves you've paid for it.

Otherwise you could have picked it up just now.

But you sold it to me yesterday. Surely you remember me?

Oh, yes, sir. I remember YOU.

Do not get me started.

OK, we won't.

The receipt for the scarf wasn't in the bag.

I know, you left it. I stuck it to the door of the fridge.

Of course. The fridge. The family database.

What else would you do with a valuable and important document

but stick it to the fridge with a plastic banana?

Girl Shack.

I'll pick it up on me way to work,

and this time this ticket does not leave my jacket pocket.

Anyone for a cup of tea?

I'll text you.

Excuse me, please. Excuse me, I need to get through.

Morning, Team Health and Safety!

I'm just popping in to the high street,

so move the barrier, please, Clive.

CLIVE LAUGHS Good one, Gerald.

Excuse me, Clive?

-This is a test, isn't it?

-What?

You said no high vis, no access. No exceptions.

You're testing our resolve.

-No, actually, I'm not, Clive.

-Yes, you are.

-I would have let him straight through.

-I'm really not testing you.

The more you say it, the more obvious it gets.

You can trust Team Health and Safety, Gerald.

Your team. Your rules.

Well done, Clive.

Barrier, please. Clive. Thank you!

Oh, it's you again. Have you got your receipt?

Yes, I have and it is...

in the pocket of me other jacket.

Cheers! Happy birthday, Malika.

Well, top birthday all round.

A family box of Celebrations from Clive,

strangely with no Malteser Teasers or Caramels in.

Yeah.

Funny, that.

A Jethro Tull CD from Bernard...

..and a tub of lovely grey stuff from Mrs Jonson.

Thank you all very much.

I have also bought you a present, Malika.

-Have you, Gerald?

-From that new shop in the high street.

Girl Shack? I love their stuff.

Hand it over, then.

Unfortunately, it is still in the shop

but I have the receipt with which you can claim it.

What have you got me?

Something I'd really like to see you in.

You'd really like to see me in this, would you?

Oh, yes. In fact, I'd be honoured if you'd let me put it on for you.

I could do you for harassment!

"One pair lacy knickers"?

Oh, Gerald, this is a mistake.

Of course it's a mistake!

There's no way Malika's a size 8.

Off to work, love.

Victoria is monopolising the bathroom again,

but this time the works' toilet tap...

..will not defeat me.

Aagh!

Blimey!

WHOOSHING

-Got squirted again?

-Yes.

They're not going to dry, either.

The moisture has stuck the fabric to me thighs, thus impeding air flow.

I need to distance me trousers from me body.

Well, how about creating a drying frame

using polystyrene cups from the drinking fountain?

That's a very good idea, Clive.

Cleaner in the toilet, gents!

Mr Wright, what you doing?!

Quite obviously, Mrs Jonson, due to ongoing problems with dampness,

I have placed a polystyrene cup in me trousers.

Well, whatever turn you on, I suppose,

but you keep your hand off my rubber gloves.

And next time, put a sign on the door!

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