Tailgating sketch - Mercorabilia

Lack of internet after moving house and a short month have meant February's posts have all got bunched up at the end.
Oh well, here's a sketch I've been saving - hope you feel it was worth the wait.



Mr Gold: Come in HQ. Golf Tango calling HQ. (speaking in muffled voice) HQ here – over. (in normal voice) I’ve got a bogey on my tail. It’s a grey Vauxhall Astra – could be trouble, over. (speaking in muffled voice) Roger Golf Tango, can you shake him? Over. (in normal voice) Hold on, HQ – approaching a bend. *sound of screeching* (muffled voice) Golf Tango report – over. (in normal voice) Negative HQ – he’s still with me. Please advise…
Mrs Gold: What are you doing?
Mr Gold: What?
Mrs Gold: I said what are you doing?
Mr Gold: Well, I was just pretending, you know.
Mrs Gold: Pretending what?
Mr Gold: *clears throat* Well, there’s… there’s a car behind us and I, uh, I thought it could be cool if he was following us and we had to evade him – (sounding excited) as if we were on some top secret spy mission.
Mrs Gold: John, we are in a Ford Fiesta. I hardly think top secret spies go on missions or attempt to evade possible tails in a K reg hatchback!
Mr Gold: Well…
Mrs Gold: What’s more you are not a child – you are my husband and you are 35/41 years old. Don’t you think the time for pretending might be over by now?
Mr Gold: Yes, dear.
Mrs Gold: Right. Now let’s have no more of this.
<pause>
Mr Gold: *humming mission impossible theme under his breath*
Mrs Gold: John!
Mr Gold: What?
Mrs Gold: Will, you stop looking at your wing mirror!
Mr Gold: Well, I have to check my mirror, dear – it’s the law.
Mrs Gold: Yes, but that means checking it once or twice when making a manoeuvre - not every 5 seconds while driving along a straight road.
Mr Gold: Ok… But he is still behind us, dear.
Mrs Gold: I don’t care if he’s behind us, beside us or on top of us. He is not going to be interested in what we’re doing and his every move does not need to remarked upon in a running commentary. Understood?
Mr Gold: Yes, dear.
*binging sound*
Mr Gold: Oh – we’re almost out of petrol. I’ll just pull in here, dear, and get some more. (pulls into petrol station and gets out humming)
(As the sound fades the wife speaks hurriedly under her breath.)
Mrs Gold: Come in, Alpha Wolf, over.
Alpha Wolf: Alpha Wolf here, over.
Mrs Gold: Pull back – you’re getting to close to the target and we don’t want to make him nervous.
Alpha Wolf: Roger. Do you think he’s on to us?
Mrs Gold: No, don’t worry – I don’t think he suspects a thing.

Falstaff The Spy sketch - Mercorabilia

A friend of mine recently introduced me to Roger Allam’s Olivier Award winning performance as Falstaff in the Globe’s production of Henry IV and it inspired me to write this sketch. The idea being that it could something that might be used for a Comic Relief skit

M sat at desk, busy with paperwork. Bond enters.

Bond is on crutches with his foot in plaster. He has a neck brace on and is sporting a black eye and a cut lip.

M: (without looking up) Ah, 007. Ready to return to active service?

Bond: Yes, sir.

M: Good. (looks up) Well, I… Good God –what happened to you?

Bond: Nothing, sir.

M: I see. Well, I’m afraid this won’t do. We simply can’t send you out into the field like that. (sighs) No – there’s nothing else for it – we’ll have to use the emergency operative.

Bond: Emergency operative, sir?

M: (presses intercom) Miss Moneypenny, send him in.

Pause and then Falstaff swaggers in the office and poses with his hands on his hips.

[Poss inc:

Bond: (unimpressed) Where on earth are you from?

Falstaff: (grinning) My noble lord, from Eastcheap! (This last bit is accompanied by a swaying of the hips)]

Bond stares at him and then back at M.

Bond: You cannot be serious.

M: Very. Don’t worry. He’s just as good as you. He can do everything you can.

Bond: Really?

M: Show him.

Pause as Falstaff clears his throat then he spreads his arms wide. A bevy of (bikini-clad) beauties flock to him.

Bond: So he can.

Falstaff grins, turns and starts to head out of the room with the girls.

M: Don’t forget about the mission!

Falstaff raises a hand to show he’s heard.

Bond looks at M incredulously.

M shrugs.

Bond looks on after Falstaff.

Cut to: corridor of an old-fashioned train carriage.

Falstaff is making his way along the corridor as unobtrusively as he can.

He brushes away one of the girls from the previous scene who tries to cling to him.

He continues on his way - his face shows intense concentration.

He steps on a squeaky floorboard and immediately straightens and stands with his shoulder flat against the wall; supposedly hiding.

Nothing happens so he carries on.

Cut to: interior of the compartment.

Businessmen seated reading various papers.

One looks up and spots Falstaff’s silhouette moving across the door panel (which has its blind drawn) looking strikingly similar to Hitchcock.

 

Cut to: the corridor.

There is a noise behind Falstaff – he freezes this time with his shoulder against the middle of the glass door panel.

Cut to: interior of the compartment.

The businessman stares in disbelief at the silhouette on the door.

He looks down at the papers he’s reading and we see it’s a script entitled ‘The Rear Window – The Remake’.

He looks up at the silhouette again and promptly throws the script out of the window.

 

Cut to: the corridor.

Falstaff carries on.

He hears the carriage door close behind him and after a quick look back he ducks inside a nearby empty compartment and slides the doors shut but inadvertently closes them on his stomach which protrudes through the gap.

Cursing and muttering, he opens the doors again and tries to close them without trapping his massive bulk.

He succeeds and drops to the ground to avoid being seen.
Another of the girls appears and crawls to him.

Panicked, he initially tries to bat her away – glancing fearfully at the window in the compartment door – but he eventually relents.

The Chief Guard comes along (accompanied by 2 other guards) and, hearing giggling, looks down inside the compartment and spots them.

The other guards attempt to look and the Chief pushes them back.

The Chief slides the doors open and Falstaff and the girl pause in their exploits staring up in horror.

The Chief’s face shows a mixture of outrage (at their escapades) and delight (at having caught Falstaff).

Falstaff groans at having been caught.

Chief: Get him up.

The other guards haul Falstaff to his feet and he is escorted off – as is the girl by the Chief.

Cut to: Deserted base.

Falstaff stands in front of a firing squad with his hands bound behind his back.

Chief: Do you have any last words?

Falstaff pauses to think.

Falstaff: What is honour? A word. What is in that word-…

Chief: Enough!

Falstaff reacts (disappointed).

The Chief turns to his men.

Chief: Ready!

Falstaff looks left and right for signs of help – there is none.

Chief: Aim!

Falstaff looks upwards, closes his eyes and starts muttering under his breath.

Chief: Fire!

Suddenly, a blade or some kind of weapon flies across from the right knocking the gun nozzles to the left so that they shoot the Chief who collapses to the ground.

A second blade severs the ropes binding Falstaff’s hands.

He rubs his wrists in relief and looks up - spotting something in the distance.

Prince Henry stands on a nearby ridge overlooking the scene – his arm still raised from throwing the weapon.

Falstaff: Hal!

Hal smiles and heads down to Falstaff.

The men embrace.

Falstaff: It’s good to see you.

Hal: And you. Sorry I took so long – had to defeat a rogue French army.

The guards look at them, look at each other, pause and then run.

Falstaff and Hal watch them go then smile and clap each other on the back.

They (hear a noise and) strike a martial arts pose – ready for action.