The Evil Bread
Created | Updated Aug 13, 2003
A Sir Lance and General Ford Adventure
(We open in a car. It's not the Mills-Mobile, although it does looks suspiciously like it, with a slightly different paintjob and the words "Stev Ruls O-K" where the words "Mills-Mobile" normally are. Sitting in the drivers seat is Steven, and beside him poking about in the Glove-Box is Lance.)
Lance: Nope.
Steven (while driving): Let me guess, you're about to say something witty and amusing involving gloves.
Lance (shakes head): Actually, I was going to say there's no boxes in there.
Steven: Oh.
Lance: Tell me, where is it exactly that we're going? And why isn't Lord Mike with us?
Steven (sighs): Weren't you listening back in the pre-title sequence?
Lance: There wasn't one.
Steven: That's no excuse. If you had been paying attention, you'd remember that Lord Mike gave us a holiday.
Lance: He did?
Steven: Yes. And we're going to spend it up in a cabin in the woods.
Lance: We are?
Steven: Yes.
Lance: Why?
Steven: Well ... (Steven thinks of a witty excuse as to why they are going to spend a night in a secluded cabin in a haunted wood, thus allowing the writer to escape from a potentially threatening plothole)
Lance: Oh, I see. Is that why we brought the Parrot?
Steven: Yes, it is. Now will you stop asking silly questions, I think we're almost there ...
Lance: Wait a minute... did that narration gag back there mention a "haunted wood"?
Steven: Maybe...
Lance: It's just, that you know how much I hate woods. We went to that Conifer Wood a while back... hated it there... then we went to Thetford Wood... hated that, Amberson Wood, Lonford Wood, Victoria Wood, Bristol Wood.... I hate them all.
Steven: You're just making them up. There's no wood in Bristol.
Lance: Well, if there was, I'd hate it.
Steven: Anyway, you never said you hated woods before.
Lance: It's just never come up before.
Steven: Yes, right... it's just any excuse for those writers, isn't it?
(Steven mumbles about poor writing as the car-mobile pulls up outside the cabin.)
Steven: Well, we're here then. We'd better unpack.
(Lance looks at the car)
Lance: The only thing in there is the parrot... and a glove.
Steven: Mumbling Mangos! I told you that man at the petrol station looked dodgy, he's stolen our luggage!
(pause)
Steven: ... or maybe we left it at home.
Parrot: (squark) tube station, sir.
Lance: oh shut up.
(Lance moves up to the door of the rickety old cabin. On the veranda, a hanging chair swings creakily. Lance realises it's only moving when he's not looking at it, and that when he looks at it it stops.)
Lance: Waaa!
Steven (trying to get Parrot and Glove out of car, without much success): What is it?
Lance: Steve, that chair's haunted!
Steven: Don't be silly! What makes you think that?
Lance: The narrator said it was ...
(No I didn't. I just said it stops moving whenever you look at it. There's a difference.)
Lance (silence, then ...): Oh. Sorry.
(Steven joins him at the door, holding the Parrot in his hand and with the Glove perched on his shoulder.)
Steven: Well, open the door.
Lance: I haven't a key.
Steven: There isn't a lock.
Lance: Oh, right.
(Lance pushes open the door and they go inside.)
(Steven shines the glove around the room, and then wishes it was a torch.)
Steven: I wish this was a torch.
Parrot: (squark) ...and then it turned out that I looked like Paul McGann in the future... (laughs)
Lance: We really should stop leaving that parrot around when we discuss old adventures, it picks up everything.
Parrot: Quack.
(Steven switches on the lights)
Steven: Hey, wait a minute... this isn't an old haunted shack at all!
Lance: By golly gum drops, Sir Mike... um, Steve, you're right... (pause)... no, actually, you're wrong, this is an old haunted shack.
Steven: Oh yes, so it is. Silly me.
Parrot: (squark) Is it just me or does this look like the inside of a tube of toothpaste?
Lance: That was the funny the first 36 times, but now it's not any more, okay?
Steven: ... although having said that, it does look suspiciously like a tube of toothpaste in here.
Lance: (frowns) how do you know that? When was the last time you were in a tube of toothpaste?
Steven: Um... look over there, a ghost!
(Steven is pointing right at a pale, vaguely transparent ghostly form that is staring at them in shock and terror.)
Steve (sighs): Yeeesss, like I said, "Hey look, a ghost!"
(Lance walks up to the image and moves his hand up. To his surprise, the ghost does the same thing. Lance raises an eyebrow, and turns back to Steven.)
Lance: This isn't a ghost, Steven. It's a mirror. That's me, that is. (frowns, then pouts, brushing hand through hair) Although I am, rather surprisingly, rather a dead-ringer for a .. er, dead person, aren't I?
(5 Hours pass. It is now night-time. Lance and Steven are now sitting down in front of the roaring fire, eating their tea. Lance wears a worried look on his face, as he realises he can't actually make any tea, much to Steven's relief. The Parrot sits on it's perch, squarking something about Channel Tunnels.)
Steven: That was a quick 5 hours, it only seems to have been 2 seconds!
Lance: Thank goodness for the editing room, eh?
Steven: Indeed.
Lance (chomps noisily on toast): Is this the bit where I do my "High Street" gag?
Steven: No, that comes later.
Lance: Oh.
(Their conversation is interupted, as they hear the scary echoing eery noise of scary echoing eery noises, coming from somewhere outside the cabin!)
Lance: That speech was a mouthful.
Steven: So is this toast.
(pause)
Steven: Lance...
Lance: Steven...
Steven: I bet that'll be a nightmare for the typist.
Lance: You what?
Steven: Nothing. Did you hear that scary echoing eery noise of scary echoing eery noises, coming from somewhere outside the cabin?
Lance (considers): No... oh, wait a minute... yes, I did actually.
Steven: Do you think we ought to go and investigate?
Lance (considers): um...
(pause)
Lance: No.
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Steven: Hey! You can't do that.
Lance: What do you mean?
Steven: This is our big moment, let's go and find out what's going on outside.
(They both go outside).
Lance: Oh look, it's just a man with a CD player, a large amplifier and a CD of "death and horror sound effects, volume 2: blood, gore and general nasty things".
Lance (screams): Eek!
Steven: What?
Lance: That man ... he's wearing a suit!
Steven: I know. (grins) And you're afraid of the strangest things. (turns to man) Hello to you, man with CD Player.
Man: Hello.
Steven (frowns): You look familiar to me somehow. (clicks fingers) Say, isn't your name Fisher, and you and I and Marian once saved the universe from a madman?
Man: No, I'm afraid you're mistaken. Fisher is my identical twin half-brother. (straightens tie) My name's Nobby.
Lance: Nobby? Nobby?? What's that?
Steven (to Lance): An in-joke. (to Nobby) Why are you standing outside this cabin, trying to scare us with fake scary monster noises?
Nobby (thinks): Welllll ...... I was told to. Wasn't I.
Steven: Told to? By whom?
Nobby: I can't tell you that.
Steven: On pain of death, I suppose?
Nobby: No, I can't tell you because I don't know myself. She sent me a letter. I'm a hired assassin, you see. But she didn't send me to kill you, just to frighten you a bit.
Steven: "She" didn't, eh? So how do you know it's a she, if you've never met her?
Nobby: Er ... the letter was scented.
Lance (who has been standing around, looking dim): Can I do my "High Street" gag now?
Steven (sighs): No, later! I'm busy grilling Nobby here for clues. (turns back to Nobby, but Nobby has vanished) Oh look, you let him get away.
Lance (shamed): I'm sorry.
Steven: Forget it. Let's look at the clues so far: Somebody wants to scare us away. Somebody who ... knows us. And presumably is evil. And Female. You know what we have to do now?
Lance (brightens up): Tell my "High Street" gag?
Steven: No, we must look through the case-files and find out how many Female adversaries we've faced. There can't be that many, most of the ones we face seem to be Male. (thinks) I forgot to bring the case-files with us.
Lance: That's alright. The Parrot has all our adventures memorised. Perhaps if we asked him ...
Steven: Brilliant! Quick, to the Mills-Parrot!
(They run inside the cabin.)
(Inside the cabin Steven stops short with a gasp)
Steven: Gasp!
Lance: What is it?
Steven: It's Mike!
Mike: Oh, sorry, just making my customary cameo. Best be off now.
(Mike walks very slowly off as Steven and Lance stand and stare)
Lance: Do you think there was much point to that?
Steven: I very much doubt it, quick to the parrot.
(The parrot sits on the perch cackling loudly to itself about yoghurt.)
Steven: Right Mr Parrot. How many female adversaries have we been adversed by?
Lance: eh?
Parrot: (quacks) I suggest you make like a tree and leave.
Lance: Is he threatening me?
Steven (sighs): who's stupid idea was this to ask the parrot anyway?
Lance (nervously): Um... Mike's.
Steven: Anyway, why would anyone want to scare us while we're in this house?
Lance (considers): To stop us having chicken for tea?
(pause)
Steven: Were we going to have chicken for tea?
Lance: No, but I'm definately not having it no. No sir-ee, no chicken for ME tonight.
Steven: Good grief...
There will now be a short interval, during which time you can buy ice creams, drinks, refreshments, and some sort of little book that has jokes in it.
Ice cream salesperson: Ice creams! Get your ice creams here! Ice creams! Get them while they’re hot!
Person: ‘ere, you’re not an ice cream salesman, you’re a postman.
Ice cream salesperson: No I’m not
Person: Yes, you are. You’re wearing a postman’s uniform, and you’ve got a mail bag and everything.
Ice cream salesperson: No, no, this is just to show how good I am: Royal Male, see, I’m a prince in Luxembourg.
Person: That says Royal Mail, you fool.
Ice cream salesperson: That’s what I said.
Person: No, you said Royal Male, that’s a homophone.
Ice cream salesperson: A what?
Person: It’s two words that have different meanings and spellings, but are pronounced the same.
Ice cream salesperson: Oh, that… no, um, it must be those prison labourer’s. Fools, can’t trust them to sew anything.
Person: Prison labourers don’t sew post worker’s uniforms, they sew postbags.
Ice cream salesperson: Um… yes, I know, just look at the sort of person we’re dealing with here. We tell them to sew a bag, and they make a uniform, and even then they can’t even spell the words right.
Person: I thought you weren’t a postman anyway.
Ice cream salesperson: I’m not… I’m an ice cream salesperson
Person: Okay then, I’ll have a choc-ice
Ice cream salesperson: First or second class?
Person: You what?
Ice cream salesperson: Sorry, I meant black or white?
Person: White. And have you got any of those little tubs of ice cream, where you eat them with a little plastic spoon?
Ice cream salesperson: I’ve got a jiffy bag.
Person: You what?
Ice cream salesperson: Cone. I mean I’ve got an ice cream cone.
Person: Okay then, I’ll have one of them
Ice cream salesperson: That’s £1.50 then, please.
Person: There you go.
Ice cream salesperson: And there you go sir… um, madam. Enjoy the rest of the film.
Person: Here, you’ve just given me two large white envelopes.
Ice cream salesperson: Okay, okay, I admit it, I’m not really an ice cream salesman at all. Is that so bad? Is that a crime? All my life I’ve wanted to sell ice creams to people in cinemas. I see them up there, standing there with their little aprons and their ice cream trays, and all this jealousy just bubbles up. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but just for once, I had to sell ice creams.
Person: Um… okay then… is there a punch line to this post?
Ice cream salesperson: I really hope so. After all, it’s been going on for a page and a half; it needs something at the end.
Person: Well, are you going to do it then?
Ice cream salesperson: Me?
Person: Well I don’t know one. All I wanted was an ice cream.
Ice cream salesperson: No one said anything about a punch line, I thought you just had to give them an ice cream, take their money and that was it.
Person: But you haven’t given me an ice cream. You’ve just taken my money. Now, are you going to do a punch line or not?
Ice cream salesperson: Um… “and then he said, I’m sorry but we don’t have them in that size for ducks.”
Person: Oh…. I see…
Steven (putting on recap voice): Good grief.
Lance: Was that interval meant to be funny?
Steven: I'm still trying to work out if the part number is a joke or whether it was typed by someone with the shakes.
Lance: Do you know, Suddenly I feel like an Ice Cream.
Steven (without a second thought): Better put a warm pullover on then, don't want you catching a chill.
(Lance does so. Meanwhile, Steven returns to grilling the parrot.)
Steven: Grilling it?
Lance: I thought we were having Chicken for tea. Not parrot.
(Yes, grilling it. For information. Tsk.)
Parrot (immitating Lance): Bwaark! I feel like an Ice Cream!
Steven: That has to be the first thing it's said that actually has any relevance to the plot.
Lance (intrigued): There's a plot?
Steven: Yes, it's out there in the Graveyard. (turns back to the parrot) Alright, parrot, tell me what I want to know or I'll feed you to Lance.
Lance: I don't want to eat the parrot. (immitating Parrot immitating him) I feel like an Ice Cream!
Parrot (faux French accent): Pleaze av ziz loaf of bread az an apologie!
Steven (lunges towards Parrot): Right, that's it, you're for it now!
Lance (holds Steven back): Wait a minute, it just told us something.
Steven: Yes?
Lance (thinks hard - he's not used to it): Of course! Female villians with a grudge against us! Absoluta Rubbish!
Steven: I agree, this story is a bit on the poor side.
Lance: No silly, Absoluta Rubbish! I once stole a loaf of French Bread from her! Back when Mike and I were assembeling the six segments of the Sandwich of Time!
Continuity Announcer (vo): See "The Diary of L. Oswald Baylis"
(Steven and Lance look around in confusion)
Steven: Where did that voice come from? (shakes head) I wasn't in that story, remember? Not until the end bit, in Norway.
Parrot: Why are we looking through Lindsay's stuff anyway?
(They turn to the Parrot, but then they hear a soft, Female, French Accented voice behind them, from the doorway. They turn in surprise to see before them ... Absoluta Rubbish!)
(She is wearing a black dress, a black wide-brimmed hat with a veil over her face and she holds in her hand a gun. Which happens to be pointing at our heroes.)
Steven: Thank goodness she's pointing that gun at those heroes and not at us, I'd hate to have a gun like that pointing at me.
Absoluta: I am pointing zis gun at you.
Steven: Oh...
Absoluta: And, now, if you would be zo kind, as to pazz me ze parrot.
Lance: Eh?
Absoluta: Ze parrot. (She motions with her gun towards where the parrot cage, and by default the parrot, is)
Steven: What do you want the parrot for?
(pause)
Aboluta: Um... it iz a zecret.
Lance: More likely you can't explain it in your limited french accent.
Absoluta: Zilence! Now, give me ze parrot, or elze, I will have to zink of another zpeech to make, involing lotz of z'z, and zome ze's.
(Lance pazzez... um passes her the parrot cage)
Absoluta: Zank you, know, I muzt be going. You know what'z it'z like to be a poorly characerized femme fetal.
Steven: No.
Absoluta: Well, you can imagine.
Steven: Actually, no I can't.
Absoluta: Well, why not read my autobiographie, "My Life Az A Poorly Characterized Femme Fetal", available from Waterztones, and Otakarz, as well az many other highztreet bookztores. Ze Timez zaid it waz a "moving account of someone who'z indenity iz only zhown by the fact they uze z'z inztead of s'z" and Ze Telegraph, zaid it waz a "deeply moving and zentimental novel of ze highest calibre." Anyway, now I muzt go!
(She turns, and in a flail of robes and hair, and jumper (which is tied in a knot round her shoulders) leaves)
Lance: Well, that's the first time we've had a villain whose plugged their autobiography.
Steven: ... while stealing our parrot.
Lance: It's the first time we've had a parrot.
Absoluta (pops her head back around the door): Oh yez, I forgot, zis building iz going to blow up in five minutez too.
Steven: Gibbering Gibblets! That only gives us ... (counting down on fingers) ... five minutes!
Lance: What will we do? We don't have a parrot anymore!
Steven: No, don't panic, don't panic. (thinks) What do we always do?
Lance (whimpers): Panic?
Steven: You're right you know. But this time, I've got a friend in a high place.
(Steven looks up at the ceiling of the Cabin, back at Lance, back at the ceiling, back at Lance, all the while raising and lowering his eyebrows knowingly.)
Lance: The mice?
Steven: No.
Lance: The parrot?
Steven (sighs): No ...
Lance: My "High street" gag?
Steven (irritated): No you fool, the film editor! He can cut us out of this scene and re-splice us back into the final reel!
Lance: Oh.
(The film editor does just that.)
(CUT TO: THREE DAYS LATER. Steven and Lance are enjoying a cup of tea. The parrot is back, and they also have a loaf of French Bread and some Garlic.)
Lance: That was a lucky escape, wasn't it?
Steven: Yes. Yes it was.
Lance: The bit with the Three-Ring Circus was a stroke of genius on your part.
Steven (blushes): Why thank you.
Lance: (sips on tea): Can I tell my "High Street" gag now? Please? If I don't tell it now, I never will. The story is about to end.
Steven: Oh, if you must.
Lance: Well, I was walking down this street one day, see. And a car stops and asks me - This is the people in the car asking me, you understand, not the car itself - "Oi, Mate, d'you know the way to the High Street?". So do you know what I said?
Steven: No. What?
Lance: I said "Yes. Yes I do." and then walked away.
(Boom-tish!)
Steven: You mean we waited the entire story, just to hear that rubbish punchline?
Lance: Yes. (smiles) It was a classy rubbish punchline though, wasn't it?
