The Deadly Receptacle The Wright Way

I really think I should change the appointment.

Dad, it's just a prostate check!

Women spend their entire lives being messed around by doctors.

And you're banging on about one little finger up your bum!

Might not be so little. My bro's doing medicine at Exeter

and they're all horrendous rugger buggers.

I mean, fingers like bananas, dot, dot, exclamation mark.

Giles can pick up a football single-handed.

Right. I'm going to change my appointment.

Dad. You're not changing it.

But it's on the same day as the Ballroom Dance!

I won't be able to WALK, let alone do the cha cha!

I've been looking it up on the net.

Apparently, the muscles can go into rigid spasm.

How am I going to dance with a rigid backside?

Hang on. That's not right.

-Excuse me. I think you're in the wrong queue.

-Wrong queue?

Yes. This is the eight items or less queue. You've got eleven.

-Have you been spying on my shopping?

-No, I have not been spying.

I've been conducting a citizen's survey

and you're in the wrong queue.

The four cans are one item.

Only if they're in a four-pack.

Those will have to be swiped separately.

Four of the same is one.

Excuse me, but by that argument,

identical quadruplets would travel on the same passport,

which any UK Borders Protection Officer will tell you they don't.

-You're raving tonto.

-Hop it, or I'll get the manager.

I'll remember you.

Dad! I actually want to die.

The ability to respect a queue is what made Britain great.

It's how our sailors managed to pull so many boys off on the beaches.

He's talking about Dunkirk, Vic.

And never let it be forgotten.

I'm collecting for my favourite charity, boys. Will you contribute?

-Of course, Malika. What's the cause?

-The local hospice.

Hospice? What's that? A hospital with a lisp?

Wrong, probably. I know. I've done the course.

A hospice is where they care for the dying, Bernard.

Is that something you're interested in, then, Malika? The dying?

I got involved when my late husband was failing.

You contributed him, so to speak.

I was in Weston-super-Mare when he ate the fatal meal, Clive,

so the Coroner's report accepted at the time.

-Ah!

-Yeah!

-Ah!

-Yeah!

-Ah!

-Scaramouche!

-Ah!

-Yeah!

-Ah!

-Yeah!

-Ah! Raspberry!

-Ah!

-Yeah!

-Ah!

-Yeah!

-Ah!

-Galileo!

-Ah!

-Yeah!

-Ah!

-Yeah!

-Beret!

It's brilliant, Vic! Really cool!

It's a mashup of Prince's Raspberry Beret and Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody.

-What me call it?

-Bohemian Raspberry!

-BOOM!

-You really are good, you know, Vic, I love your mashups.

It's lucky you do. You're the only one who's ever going to hear them.

You'll get a gig in the end, Vic.

-You just need one to get you started.

-I know! But how?

I go to gigs that I dig and I'm like, "Dude, I really dig your gig,

"can I get a gig?" and they say, "Where can we see you gigging, see if we dig it?"

I'm like, "Dude, I don't have a gig, which is why I need a gig at your gig."

And they're like, "Dude, how can we give you a gig, if you've no gig for us to dig

-"to see if we dig it enough to give you a gig...?"

-I think I get it!

It's like a TOTAL Catch 22.

In fact, I think it might even be a Catch 23.

I know it's getting you down, Vic.

It's just those mean girls I told you about

from when I was at school. They hacked my site again.

They changed my name to Grand Master Total Crap.

This is getting stupid! You should make a complaint,

-there is a process.

-No way! I'm not running and I'm not hiding.

One day, I'll get a gig, upload loads of cool footage

of giggers digging my gigging, then those bitches

can kiss my funky white mashup!

So, let us proceed to today's agenda, which is,

as ever, to eliminate risk. Clive. Speak to me.

Well, Gerald, as you know, the American coffee chain

Moonbonks Barista is opening a new branch in Baselricky High Street.

Has APPLIED to open a new branch, Clive,

whether that application is successful is up to us.

Well, I say, let 'em in. I love a Moonbonks!

And rest assured, Clive, the needs of the coffee-drinking community

will loom large in our deliberation.

Not, however, as large as risk management.

There'll be no scalded lips or little wooden stirring sticks

stuck up people's noses on my watch.

Moonbonks is subject to UK DOE workplace legislation.

We must therefore ensure that they deliver

a Failsafe Accident Neutralized

and Nullified Industrial Environment.

Acronomically...

F-A-N-N-I-E.

If Moonbonks cannot guarantee that their coffee

will be served out of a Fannie,

then the people of Baselricky won't be drinking it.

Clive, speak to me about how we ensure

the enforcement of a properly regulated Fannie.

Well, the principle fear is the danger of scalding liquids

being carried about the streets in insufficiently robust containers.

We therefore asked Moonbonks

to supply us with examples of their cups.

This is the Tall.

Well, it's big. Dangerously big.

Picture the scenario - a crowded pavement, full of busy commuters.

Each carrying a LITRE of boiling liquid,

inadequately secured with an ill-fitting lid.

That's been semi-clamped on by a distracted Spanish student,

with his mind on the girl who's toasting the paninis.

The commuters are in a hurry. They're anxious to get to work.

-They don't see the cracked paving stone!

-Bang! Splosh!

Coffee-flavoured gonads. We've all been there.

It's a NIGHTMARE scenario.

We will insist that the Tall is reserved for in-house customers

and that only the Short is offered for takeaway trade.

-This IS the Short.

-I thought you said it was the Tall.

-I did, but it's the Short.

-Then show me the Tall.

-This is the Tall

-You just said it was the Short!

-It is.

-It's the Short AND the Tall?

-Yes. The Tall IS the Short.

-How can the Tall be the Short?

Because it's the smallest one they do. Small is actually Big.

That's what my late husband used to try to tell me!

Shortly before he ate the fateful meal?

I don't know, Bernard. I told you, I was in Weston-super-Mare!

As the Coroner's Report accepted at the time

and in two subsequent enquiries!

This is the Vesuvi.

What is happening to this country?!

We used to be happy with a cup of coffee!

It was adequate! It did the job!

No-one ever said, "Actually, have you got a bucket?

"I could MURDER a bucket of coffee!"

Well, I think Moonbonks are wonderful.

My favourite's a butterscotch double-white-choc

vanilla-bean-caramel Frappy Crappy with M&M's on top.

Whatever happened to "One lump or two"?

There's no restraint any more! We're descending into decadence!

This is what happened to the Roman Empire!

What, big coffee cups? I didn't notice them in Gladiator!

Mass slaughter in the Coliseum. Emperors marrying their horses.

Smarties in your Frozen Flurry.

All evidence of cultures that have lost their way, Bernard.

Decadence comes in many guises.

Anyway...

I nearly got started there. So...

We have the small cup or Tall, and we have the big cup or Vesuvi.

Vesuvi isn't the big one, Gerald, it's the medium.

This is the big.

-It's called Grandissimo.

-Oh, no. I'm not happy.

I'm really not.

What's your main area of concern, Gerald?

Quite frankly, I think what we might be looking at here

is not a cup, but a small portable pond.

A pond?

There are very strict legal limits

concerning the size at which a domestic body of liquid

requires fencing and I think this cup may breach them.

A word, please, Wright Mr, Wright Mr, please, a word.

Heard, I have, that you out carrying are safety checks absurd

on the new franchise Moonbonks!

As is duty my, Mayor Mr.

Well, over get it with by the Night Ballroom Big, Wright Mr,

and make sure a licence give you them, or for it answer will you!

I'm collecting for the local hospice, will you donate?

I don't believe in charity, they spend it all on admin.

I've heard for every pound donated, they spend £2.50

on envelopes and Blu Tack. So why should I bother?

Exactly, so why bother, should we? Eh? Eh?

Come along, Cheryl. Along, Cheryl, come. Cha-cha!

What a couple of arse-tights!

Blimey!

I may spontaneously ejaculate.

Exactly what site are you looking at?

Medicalfacts.com.

It can happen when they touch your prostate!

Oh! Maybe don't wear anything dark.

It says here that there is a possibility of actual arousal!

A bloke giving you a prostate probe? I can't see it myself!

-Might be a woman doctor.

-Blimey! I hadn't thought of that!

Which would you prefer, dude or chick?

Interesting question.

For a professional encounter such as this, dude, I think.

Less chance of arousal, certainly, and let's face it,

he'd have shorter finger nails.

But bigger fingers.

Yep, you're right, Victoria, it's a percentage game.

Well, here I am. What do you think?

It'll be better in heels, but I'm not very steady in them yet.

-Your mum's dress!

-Yeah, she lent it to me.

We couldn't find anything in the Oxfam shop. You don't mind, do you?

Susan, you look lovely, like your mother did.

Dad, when I picked up the dress, Mum said she wanted to see us.

Just you and me. Said she had something to tell us,

but she didn't say what it was.

She's probably going to tell you that she's going to elope

with her handsome, fit, buff, Aussie boyfriend.

Or she just really wants to

hang out with you, Gerald.

So, Team Health and Safety, when do people crave coffee?

Well, it's clearly a question of individual taste.

My Yvonne likes a cup after her lunch,

but only if I've given her one.

-Oh! Hello!

-Yeah, she's a bit of a princess like that, bless her.

Won't get it herself, but if I've given her one, she's happy.

-I imagine she is!

-Team...

Moonbonks offer three sizes of coffee deliveries.

Tall, being the least copious container, will be level one.

Grandissimo, being the largest and most dangerous,

-will, of course, be level three.

-Should be level one!

I knew you were going to say that, Malika! I knew it!

Because it's obvious! One is high and three is low!

Go and stand on an Olympic podium!

Go and stay in a one-star hotel!

Clive, with me.

You are our designated and hypothetical

member of the coffee-drinking community.

Here we have a liquid-filled Grandissimo.

Action the controlled immersion exercise.

Pardon?

Stick your face in the bucket.

Glasses, Clive.

And as you can see, our hypothetical beverage imbiber

has completely immersed his respiratory organs.

It actually seems to have created a seal!

Interestingly, there's a suction effect.

In fact, I think he might actually be, erm, drowning!

Abort! Abort! Man down!

Ooh, I saw my whole life pass before my eyes!

What, in 20 seconds?

Yes, in fact, I think it went round twice.

This is a highly dangerous cup,

which clearly requires fencing.

Outrageous. Wright Mr! Absurd, and surd-ab!

Have I here your report interim

on the Moonbonks Barista's Fannie Excessive!

Cups coffee subject to same rules as pools swimming?

This is Madness, Wright Mr. Madness, this is!

Issue Moonbonks a licence with before the Ballroom Night,

or for it answer will you!

I am my job doing just, Mayor Mr.

Job yours, yes! But long for how, Wright Mr? Hmm, Hmm?

Long for how? Come along, Cheryl!

Along, Cheryl, come!

Nutters!

I'm dying to hear what it is you want to tell us, Mum.

Well, let's get our salads first, shall we?

Oh, look! Some selfish swine's hogging half the bar!

One of those bowl-pilers, trying to squeeze on

an extra sunflower seed and garlic crouton.

The salad bar is a communal facility, you know!

Oh, yes!

He's building a little platform out of cucumber slices,

stuck together with blue cheese dressing, supported by carrot batons,

used as flying buttresses. That old trick.

Excuse me, but do you have a problem? I...

Oh, it's you again! The angry little man.

Do I have too many items again, Mr Grocery Counter?

Yes, as it happens, you have!

Look, you've scraped out the last of the Thousand Island Dressing,

you've used up ALL the herb breadsticks,

and there's only five kernels of sweetcorn left.

What are you, a 14-stone rabbit?

I didn't have the last breadstick. She did.

Kyle taught me how to do this. Brilliant, isn't it?

All right, Mum, you've put this off long enough.

-Now, what did you want to tell us?

-Kyle and I are going away.

-Away?

Yes. He's going to show me the world!

What, all of it?

We're going to backpack across Europe and into Asia,

and then see if we can pick up some work crewing

and head down to Australia.

You were always happy caravanning in Normandy.

-Was I, Gerald?

-What will you do when you get to Australia, Mum?

Well, they always need skilled people, and as a dental nurse,

Kyle says I'll easily get a work visa.

Exciting!

Well, Sue's all grown up. Got a life of her own with Victoria,

and, you and me, we're divorced, so...why not?

Why not? Indeed.

Look at this, Mrs Maha!

The Ballroom Night's going to be a bit different this year.

There's going to be a DJ and a prize for the best dancing couple.

£500 and a year's supply of coffee?!

The Mayor's got Moonbonks to sponsor our ballroom night!

And he's dancing with Cha-Cha Cheryl, the cha-cha champ.

I think we all know who's going to win that £500.

Excuse me.

Now we know why he was pushing through our Moonbonks enquiry.

Someone's going to have to out-dance him.

Not me and my Susan, I fear.

Or me and my Yvonne.

She has a weak bladder, we can never finish a routine.

Right, YOU!

You're dancing with me.

I will teach you a two-step, if it kills you!

Please don't say that!

Well, big day tomorrow, eh?

Yes, Dad. Our special dance.

Actually, Susan, I was talking about my prostate.

Cheer up. You might get aroused.

You can't just give up, Dad. It's why Mum left.

If there's ever going to be a chance of getting her back,

you have to rediscover your fire, your passion.

She's not coming back, Susan.

I could be as fiery and as passionate as Gary Barlow,

and your mother wouldn't notice

because she'll be in Australia with a man who shaves his body hair.

Dad, please! Not the waxed scrotum again!

You are a bit obsessed, Gerald.

I'm not obsessed! I'm just perplexed.

I still don't get it. I mean, why? Answer me that!

Why would a man possibly want bald testicles?

Duh!

-What?

-Duh!

I have no idea what you're "duh-ing" about, Victoria.

Dude, it makes them more sensitive.

Sensitive? Sensitive to what?

-Duh!

-Stop duh-ing, Victoria!

I will not be duh-ed in my own home.

Besides which, how could a man's testicles BE more sensitive?

Did none of these blokes get sack-smacked at school?

Your eyes were still watering at bed time!

Well, I might as well tell you -

Kyle's bringing his bald balls to the ballroom

because I've invited Mum.

-Mum's coming?

-Yes, and if you want to stand a chance of stopping her

going to Australia, you have to put on a good show!

Susan...

I don't think that seeing me cha-cha in my Spandex

is going to re-kindle the love-light in your mother's eyes.

Quite frankly, I'll be happy if I can dance at all after my prostate test.

I just hope he'll be gentle with me.

Blimey!

Oh, hello, again!

The mills of God grind slowly, Mr Wright,

but they grind exceeding small.

Don't you think that our previous relationship

precludes a professional engagement?

Oh, please, do not insult my ethics.

What I think about a patient

has no relevance to how I treat them.

The fact that you forced me to change queues at the checkout

should, of course, have no bearing

on the manner in which

I explore your anus.

When you choose to confront and insult

a blameless individual in a pizza restaurant,

you should in no way have to consider that you might shortly

be subjected to an exhaustively forensic rectal examination

by that very same man.

I will treat you as I would anyone else

and hopefully give you the big thumbs-up.

Are there any questions?

Well, I have heard that this examination can cause an erection.

Well, Mr Wright, I'm not going to deny that I'll take

great satisfaction from it...

..but I doubt that I'll get quite that excited.

I didn't mean you! I meant me.

Oh, yes! I see, yes, that's true, that can happen.

Some men actually find the experience pleasurable.

However, I can assure you, YOU won't.

So, please...bend over the couch.

Eight items...

11 items...

..did it really matter?

No, no, not at all, no. I was stupid.

I can see that now!

And that last breadstick, who took it?

-My wife!

-Your wife.

And...feeling for the prostate...

and all done.

I said all DONE, Mr Wright.

I've spasmed!

Yes, I can feel that, Mr Wright, but I want my finger back!

-You're going to have to relax.

-I can't relax!

I'm locked on like a...

like a hungry clam.

My bum's gone into defence mode.

I think it's making a citizen's arrest.

Mr Wright, I said relax!

I can't relax!

You can have me relaxed, or you can have your finger up me!

The two things are mutually exclusive.

Mr Wright, I am a very busy man.

I can't be stuck here all afternoon.

Well, I'm dancing tonight and I've already got a partner!

Put your foot on my bum and tug!

-Oof!

-Oof!

LOUD CLATTER

Blimey!

Well, how was it?

Everything all right?

Your backside is fine.

You can continue talking out of it for years!

I've put my Yvonne in a cab. She's having one of her turns.

I'm not surprised, the amount of punch she's drunk.

-I thought she was going to strip off and dive in!

-She only had two cups.

Yeah, but they were Grandissimo!

And as for you, I think you broke about six of my toes!

Please don't kill me.

Got to admit, the Mayor and Cha-Cha Cheryl

really burnt up the floor tonight.

I think they've got that money in the bank.

One, two... Two, one... Four.

I think that DJ's had more punch than your Yvonne, Clive.

I know, he's dropping his records and everything.

I think I'd better take him a nice coffee.

Our dance, I think, Sue.

She looks lovely, doesn't she, Gerald? Our little girl.

Ow!

Ooh!

Oh, it's my ankle, I've twisted it.

It's these bleedin' shoes!

So, are you going to take me somewhere classy after to celebrate?

Reserved, have I, my table usual at The Harvester.

This is terrible! Dad's been really looking forward to it.

He needs to dance to get his confidence back.

If only he had someone to dance with.

Gerald was our last hope.

I could murder that stupid girl for tripping!

Have a heart, Malika. She's got her whole life ahead of her.

Most unfortunate.

Unfortunate most, Wright Mr.

Wright Miss, ankle twisted is and clearly dance cannot she,

therefore, apropos, a forfeit, you are.

Belongs, the prize, to me and Cheryl Cha-Cha. Ha-ha!

There's been a change to the final couple!

It will now be Gerald and Valerie Wright!

Valerie. You look...beautiful.

Looks like mutton to me.

She looks hot.

Not wrong, babes. I give her a 4.5,

and the K Man never rates higher than a six, so...

I am SO going to hate it if you end up being my father-in-law.

They're so lovely.

Breaks me heart!

Maximum bashy-bashy drop legs.

Yeah. She has so blossomed under the K Man's wing. Yeah?

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Yes, well, seems it concede this, must I.

What did I tell you, Gerald?

You and Valerie were poetry in motion!

You were made to dance together,

and I know because I'm a very spiritual and sensitive person.

They were all right, I suppose. For a couple of amateurs.

Oh, shut your face, you dozy slapper!

-I beg your pardon?

-You heard, love.

Cook her a meal, Malika.

I was in Weston-super-Mare!

Well, I suppose I should be going.

Kyle's got a decathlon in the morning.

Don't forget your half of the prize.

Oh, you and Susan should have that.

I'll tell you what, we'll give it to Malika's charity, eh?

Personally, I've already had my reward.

Just dancing with you.

Yeah... It was nice, wasn't it?

I'll give you a ring sometime, shall I?

Well, you know I'd love it,

but won't you be abroad?

Oh, not quite yet... I'm not even sure when.

No rush, eh?

-Your ankle got better, then?

-Yeah. Funny, that.

Boom! Rinse it out! You is da bangalang girl,

workin' ya foxy tricky-trix

mek yo' mudda hot to jiggy-jig wit yo' faddah.

Come on, then! I thought this was supposed to be a party!

I think the DJ's too drunk to play.

Actually, I think he's...drowning!

Team, with me!

Well, Vic, looks like this gig's in need of a DJ.

-And this DJ is in need of a gig!

-BOTH: Boom!

Dis is DJ Vicky Licky in da house,

bangin' it out to da Baselricky Massive Yo!

Make some fierce noise, cos we is mad sick to go licky-licky

with da foxy Cha-Cha and da bashy-bashy drop leg!

# Let's kick it

# Ice, ice...

# Can't touch this

# Ice, ice, baby

# Can't touch this...

# Can't touch this... #

Minimising risk, Team Health and Safety, minimising risk.

Even where only minimal risk exists.

With me!

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