Another sketch on the Blackadder Goes Forth theme. First draft. I reckon this can be trimmed and not sure about the punch. Suggestions welcomed!
SCENE: BROWN’S OFFICE. BROWN IS SEATED.
BROWN
Linda. Linda, Linda, Linda. I think we both know why you're here, don’t we, Linda? (SWIVELS ROUND TO REVEAL HIS TROUSERS ARE DOWN)
DARLING
My name isn’t Linda, sir. It’s Alistair. Alistair Darling. I think you’ve got the wrong idea.
BROWN
Are you absolutely sure you’re not a piece of prime totty, Darling?
DARLING
Yes. Sorry to blow you off like that, prime minister.
BROWN
Lucky escape. And that’s the problem!
DARLING
My name? I’ll have it changed by tomorrow, prime minister.
BROWN
Not the bloody name, Darling, I don’t want a load of girly-boy woofters called Linda running screaming around my office, I mean my memory.
DARLING
Your memory?
BROWN
Nothing wrong with it!
DARLING
You were-
BROWN
Don’t interrupt! The insolence! (SMACKS HIM) With these Parliamentary pencil-pushers cutting expenses down to fifty pounds I’ve got receipts coming out of my ears. I can’t remember how much I’ve claimed this week.
DARLING
I have the list here, sir.
BROWN
Well spit it out, Darling!
DARLING
Yes. Err, a few minor things; a pencil here, a few lollipops there - a few pence, really.
BROWN
Well, that’s good.
DARLING
And three thousand pounds on haggis.
BROWN
What the bloody hell would I want with haggis? Three thousand - that’s more than fifty, isn’t it?
DARLING
Yes.
BROWN
Arse.
DARLING
Do you have the receipt?
BROWN
Receipt? Don’t even remember buying it.
DARLING
It was three tonnes of haggis, prime minister.
BROWN
Can’t a man have a snack nowadays?!
DARLING
If the Tories find out, sir, we’re ruined.
BROWN
Damn and blast it, Darling, just do what we always do.
DARLING
Go on a goodwill tour of Africa and shake hands with a few starving children?
BROWN
Precisely. We can give the little beggars something to eat this time!
ENDS