S02E10 Lesson 16 – Get Off with Life the Burkiss Way

Music: sombre music, then fades out

F/X: courtroom atmosphere, people talking

F/X: gavel banging

Usher: Silence in court!

F/X: people quieten down, someone coughs

Usher: Be upstanding for the judge, Mr Justice Biggles.

F/X: door handle

F/X: propeller plane approaching

Biggles: Alright Ginger, get the [??].

F/X: machine gun fire, explosion

Biggles: Got him! Hahahaaa!

Usher: M’lud, m’lud, you’ve just bombed the jury.

Biggles: Sorry, [old bean ?]?

Usher: You just bombed the jury, m’lud. Entirely wiped them out.

Biggles: Oh, sorry, ol’ m’am. Thought they might have been Hitler.

Usher: With respect, milord, how could eight men and four women be mistaken for Hitler?

Biggles: Weeell, they just had that look in their eyes. Anyway, [call me help ?]. Help me off with the old helmet and boots, ol’ m’am. That’s it… (fades out)

Reporter: Well, a very good afternoon to you here from number one court at the Old Bailey. And er first of all, a word of apology to listeners who may have tuned in expecting the scheduled programme in our series of correspondence courses, The Burkiss Way to Dynamic Living. Er Lesson 16, Be Patient The Burkiss Way will not now be broadcast for another four weeks. This is because earlier in the week, the Burkiss Way was in fact arrested, and er, is now being prosecuted under section fourteen of the BBC charter, on three charges of being funny. Legal representatives for our listeners have advised us to plead ‘not guilty’. Erm, and so now we… so now we invite you to follow the trial as we—

Biggles: You there!

Reporter: Er…

Biggles: Stop whispering into that microphone.

Reporter: Er, I’m-I’m verry sorry…

Biggles: This is a court of law, not a bag of peppermints. Now, usher, I think we’re ready to proceed with the first case. Call Adolf Hitler.

Various voices: Call Adolf Hitler. Call Adolf Hitler. Call Adolf Hitler.

Biggles: Hrm hrm. You are Adolf Hitler of 42 The Bunker, Berlin. You are charged with being German on or about the years 1939 to ’45, and further, of not being a very nice man at all. And also of talking foreign. Do you plead guilty, or else?

Usher: M’lud, I’m the usher.

Biggles: Speak up Fritz, I can’t hear you.

Usher: I am the usher, milord.

Biggles: Where’s Hitler then?

Usher: He’s dead, milord.

Biggles: Ohh, trying that old caper out now, is he? Well, we’ll see about that kettle of fish for a game of soldiers later. What’s the next case, usher?

Usher: The Crown v. Burkiss Way, milord.

Biggles: Proceed. (bangs gavel)

Prosecutor: Oww! Ahem, milord, my name is Marmaduke Smoth, and I appear for the prosecution in this case.

Defence Counsel: And my name is Sir Beatrice Thrimpson QC, and I appear for the humorous wireless programme ‘The Burkiss Way’, m’lud.

Biggles: Proceed with the charges.

Prosecutor: Err, very well, m’lud. One, it is alleged that on or between the above dates, the humorous wireless programme ‘The Burkiss Way’ was funny by means of, or did cause to be funny, a signature tune and opening credits, contrary to section fourteen of the BBC charter, brackets er ‘Silly Openings to Radio Shows’, provision thriteen, subsection thrity-five. Er two, it is alleged that the Burkiss Way did obtain a humorous advantage through causing to be brought into question the intellectual competence of one or more persons suffering from the name Nicholas Parsons, in that they did wilfully crack, or otherwise did cause to be cracked, a joke, er namely ‘We’re omitting the reference to Nicholas Parsons’ brain transplant, and how the monkey is struggling for recovery, because er…, because we don’t want to get any cheap laughs at his expense.’[1] Er thereby contravening the BBC charter, brackets ‘Protection of Radio Quizmaster’s Facade of Sanity’, subsection thrity-five, milord. Er three, it is alleged that The Burkiss Way did inflict actual Bodily Laughter upon the studio audience at the BBC Paris Theatre, and four, it is alleged that The Burkiss Way is in fact Adolf Hitle—, er Hitler? Er, er look er er, do we have to proceed with this last charge, m’lud?

Biggles: Ohhhh, very well, strike it off.

Prosecutor: Er, thank you m’lud.

Biggles: Sir Beatrice, you have instructions on what pleas your client wishes to enter?

Defence Counsel: I have, m’lud.

Biggles: And how do you wish to plead – in semaphore, in crab language, or in grand opera?

Defence Counsel: In grand opera please, m’lud.

Biggles: Proceed.

Defence Counsel: Ahem.

F/X: tapping of conductor’s baton

Defence Counsel: (singing) I wish to plead, I wish to plead, I wish to plead… pleeead.

Usher: (singing) How d’you wish, how d’you wish, how do you wish to plead?

Defence Counsel: (singing) How do I wish?

Usher: (singing) How do you wish?

Defence Counsel: (singing) How do I wish?

Usher: (singing) How do you wish?

Defence Counsel: (singing) How do I wish to plead, I wish to plead, I wish to plead, I wish to pleeead? Nooot… noot… noot! (short pause) I wish to plead, I wish to plead, I wish to plead…

Usher & Prosecutor: (singing) … he wishes to plead, he wishes to plead, ohhh, he wishes to plead.

Defence Counsel: (singing) I wish to plead, I wish to plead, not…

Usher & Prosecutor: (singing) … not!

Defence Counsel: (singing) Not…

Usher & Prosecutor: (singing) … not!

Defence Counsel: (singing) No-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-hot.

Usher & Prosecutor: (singing) … noooooooooot …

Defence Counsel: … yet.

(applause)

Biggles: I beg your pardon?!

Usher: He doesn’t wish to plead yet, milord.

Biggles: Well how long’s he going to be? I’ve got to bomb Frankfurt at half past two.

Usher: I suggest we take it as a plea of ‘not guilty’ on all charges and proceed with the prosecution case, milord.

Biggles: Right-ho then.

Prosecutor: I would now like to deal with the first charge, the charge of jocular signature tunes, m’lud. Er call the Burkiss Way’s signature tune.

Various voices: Call the Burkiss Way’s signature tune. Call the Burkiss Way’s signature tune. Call the Burkiss Way’s signature tune.

Music: Burkiss Way opening signature tune fades in

Prosecutor: (over) It is alleged that the following credits are funny, milord.

Burkiss Way Announcer: (over) Do you suffer with funny openings? Are you jolly, happy, easily amused? Would you rather find yourself in bad humour once in a while? Then write now to Jo Kendall, Chris Emmett, Nigel Rees and Fred Harris for the Burkiss Way’s course on how to get a part in ‘Yus, My Dear’, and you can be in bad humour all the time. Stay tuned now for this and other amazing legal loopholes as we present Lesson 16, Get Off With Life The Burkiss Way.

Music: out

(applause)

Biggles: (bangs gavel) Not guilty, next charge.

Prosecutor: Harrumph. Very well, the next charge relates to Nicholas Parsons, m’lud. I propose to show that the humorous wireless programme ‘The Burkiss Way’ did make the said Nicholas Parsons look silly.

Defence Counsel: Objection, m’lud. Er someone had got there before us.

Biggles: Very well, I find no case to answer. (bangs gavel) Next charge. (to himself) At this rate I can be over Munich in twenty minutes, ohohoho.

Prosecutor: Er the final charge, m’lud, will I think prove more involved. That of inflicting laughter upon the audience. I would like to draw your attention first to exhibits A, B, C and D. Er these letters, together with twenty-two others, were used by the accused in their scripts to make up humorous words, and surrealistic routines. Er with your indulgence, m’lud, I would like to show you now an excerpt from one of the sketches, which was seized by the police on Monday.

F/X: phone handset taken off cradle, dialling, ringback tone

Customer: Hello?

Long John Silver: Haha, Jim lad. Ha hahahaa. Fifteen man on a dead man’s chest. Ha ha haa. Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! Haar haahh… [Scupper ?] the [scurvy ?? ?], slit their throats and keelhaul ’em for the [??], so be it, yo-ho-ho-hoo, ahaahahaa. Pieces of Eight, (almost laughs) Pieces of Eight, and pass me that grog, landlubber, haa haa haar, arrrh arrr. Yes?

(audience reaction)

Customer: Who’s that speaking, please?

Long John Silver: Arrrh, my name become Silver, hahaarr Jim lad, but folks as know me calls me Long John, haharrr, for reasons we won’t go into, haha harr.

Customer: Erm, well the thing is, I haven’t been left any milk this morning.

Long John Silver: Harrhahaaa, ha haha haaa, oh hoo hoo, pardon?

Customer: I haven’t been left any milk this morning.

Long John Silver: No milk, eh? Ye scurvy swab, arrhh. [Rotten ?] me bones by the sword of Ol’ Man Dozer, and the tomb of Capt’n Flint. Ahahaharr, a ha ha ha, (runs out of steam) a ha ha ha… haar… How many pints did ye order?

Customer: I have two large gold tops.

Long John Silver: Well that’s as maybe, but how many (almost laughs) pints did you order? Arr harr, Jim lad, arrrhh. Sss-scuttle the [??], splice the mainbrace [??], arr arr arrr. (continues in background while customer talks) Arr, ohh, Jim lad, ohh arrrh, arrr, o ho-ho-ho Jim lad, ohh, arrr, ohhhhh, arrrr—

Customer: (over) Oh. Sometimes I think it was a waste of time switching over to Treasure Island dairy in the first place. I should have stayed with the Co-op.

Long John Silver: (cuts in) Mmm-now the Co-op! Arrrhh, blister me barnacles, I’ll be glad when they get this chair sandpapered, oohharrrr harr.

Customer: Look, I might say that I haven’t been at all happy with your service just lately. For a start, I don’t like all those new milkmen you’ve put on my round. Blind Pew, Ben Gunn, Israel Hands, I mean really—

Long John Silver: Ohh arrrrrr-rrrrrr, well in that case Jim lad, that only leaves me with one other roundsman.

Customer: Oh no, I’m most definitely not having that one.

Long John Silver: Arrrr, why?

Customer: Well he squawks too much and keeps pecking holes in the tops.

Long John Silver: Ohh arrr!

F/X: courtroom atmosphere

Biggles: (bangs gavel)

Prosecutor: Oww!

Biggles: Alright, I think I’ve heard enough, Mr Smoth, carry on.

Prosecutor: Harrumph. Ahrm. Very well, m’lud, I would now like to swear in the first witness, er.

Usher: Take the book in your right hand, repeat after me: ‘I swear to tell the trough, the whole trough, and nothing but the trough.’

Witness: Moooh.

Biggles: The witness would seem to be rather on the er… bovine side, counsel.

Prosecutor: Er, no no no no, m’lud er, she’s just putting on a facade.

Witness: Mooohh!

Biggles: Putting on a facade? How can four hundredweight of cow be a facade?!

Prosecutor: Er well, it-it-it’s a very.. unimaginative facade, m’lud.

Biggles: Then she is a cow?

(short pause)

Prosecutor: Only professionally, m’lud.

Witness: Mooohh.

(pause)

Biggles: What is she when she’s off duty then?

Prosecutor: Well er, a-a different cow, m’lud.

Biggles: Always a cow.

Prosecutor: Er yes, m’lud.

Biggles: I see, a cow.

Prosecutor: Yes, m’lud.

Biggles: But not Adolf Hitler?

Prosecutor: Er ohh, no, no no no, m’lud.

Witness: Moooh.

F/X: a few hoof steps

Biggles: Proceed.

Prosecutor: Ahem, harrumph. Er now then, erm cow, tell us what you know about the humorous wireless programme ‘The Burkiss Way’. (bad attempt at ventriloquism) Now goodnesh me, shertainly, milord. I think it’sh the most agominagle programme on GGC radio. (normal) Erm, she erm, she says er, she thinks it’s the abominable programme on BBC radio, m’lud. (more obvious ventriloquism) In fact, only the other day, I ’as [starting to a couple of bullocks ?]—

Defence Counsel: Er, milord, milord, how much more of this have we got to listen to? Counsel is quite clearly throwing his voice in a rather feeble attempt to make it look as though the cow is talking.

Biggles: Good golly, do you reckon?

Defence Counsel: Of course, m’lud. Wouldn’t be quite so obvious though if he took the cow off his knee.

Biggles: Objection sustained. You may cross-examine, Sir Beatrice.

Defence Counsel: Thank you. Er now then, cow, I think we can clear this all up both quickly and simply er… If you think the Burkiss Way is a reputable, honest and fair-minded programme, just go ‘mooh’.

Witness: Moohh.

Defence Counsel: I rest my case, m’lud.

Biggles: Right. Er, the witness may leave the stand – and clear that up.

(audience reaction)

Prosecutor: Er m’lud, er… at this point in the proceedings I would like to call for a short intermission.

Biggles: (bangs gavel) Request granted.

Music: vibraphone glissando, then Theme from A Summer Place

Announcer: (over) There will now be a short intermission.

Music: Gone with the Wind theme music, then down for

Voice-over: (over) And now, at last, the motion picture of a lifetime. The story of the greatest romance in all history. We present – the RAC production of ‘Gone with the Wind’.

Music: fades up again for a short bit

F/X: door handle

Scarlett: Oh Rhett, Rhett… you’re back from the war at last. Mah darling, ah thought you would never return.

Rhett: I’m sorry, I tried to take the A12 through [??].

(audience reaction)

Scarlett: Never mind, mah darling—

Rhett: Then on the Colchester bypass I suddenly came to a diversion due to flooding on the B1019 at Hatfield Peverel, near the triple roundabout intersection between Witham and Chelmsford.

Scarlett: Oh, that’s all behind u—

Rhett: Then just as I got to Catford on the South Circular, there was a two-lane bottleneck at… (fades out)

Music: fades up again

Voice-over: (over) Yes, witness again the smouldering love scene that shocked a generation.

Music: out

F/X: outside atmosphere, crickets chirping

Scarlett: Ohh, Rhett… Ohhhh (heavy breathing), ohh Rhett! (more heavy breathing) Ohh Rheeett!

Rhett: Look, how can I change this wheel if you won’t hold the car?

Music: Gone with the Wind theme starts up again

Voice-over: (over) Yes, the RAC version of Gone with the Wind, in pale maroon colour together with full-supporting subframe, underseal and a cost of thousands is coming soon to this intermission!

Music: out

F/X: vibraphone glissando

(applause)

Biggles: (bangs gavel) The court is reconvened.

Prosecutor: Er, I would now like to call my next witness, milord. Er ahrm. Harrumph. You are Ernest James Feedline, a straightman by occupation.

Mr Feedline: Er, I don’t wish to know that.

Prosecutor: Just answer the questions, —

Mr Feedline: (silently) Oh.

Prosecutor: —will you please. You are, I believe, rather a wet person…

Mr Feedline: That is correct yes.

Prosecutor: … and, I understand for example that you drink warm milk quite a bit, peel all your apples before eating them and frequently use underarm deodorant.

Mr Feedline: Correct, yes.

Prosecutor: Tell the court please, how you were subjected to a rather zany sketch by the accused.

Mr Feedline: Well, it all happened like this. First of all, my voice started fading away, like this… (so he does)

F/X: knocking on door, door handle

Mr Feedline: (fades back in) Oh hello, my name’s Feedline, Ernest James Feedline. Somebody told me you were the person to see about booking up to see a West End show.

Ticket Agent: Well, it’s not quite my sketch, but I’ll see if I can help. Now er… what have we got? Ah yes, Sir, how about this one, Sir? Er, Harry Nilsson’s ‘The Point’.

Mr Feedline: Oh yes, what happens in that?

Ticket Agent: Well er, a man comes down off the stage, and pokes you in the eye with a pencil.

Mr Feedline: But surely that could cause serious damage.

Ticket Agent: No, it-it’s quite alright, they sharpen it again afterwards.

Mr Feedline: No no..no. What other shows have you got?

Ticket Agent: What other shows have we got, —

Mr Feedline: Yes.

Ticket Agent: —well there’s your ‘Equus’, by Peter Shaffer.

Mr Feedline: What’s that about?

Ticket Agent: Well, that one as far as I can tell, Sir, is about… a man, who comes down off the stage, and pokes you in the eye with a pencil.

Mr Feedline: What, another one?

Ticket Agent: Oh yes, Sir, they couldn’t use the same pencil. No no, of course you see, both productions run simultaneously, yeah, and it would be a bit of a rush getting a taxi to take the pencil, er you see, from the Mermaid Theatre to the er, the Albery Theatre, —

Mr Feedline: Oh, yeah, yeah…

Ticket Agent: —which is where it’s playing.

Mr Feedline: …yeah, well no, no I don’t want that then. No.

Ticket Agent: You don’t want that, —

Mr Feedline: No.

Ticket Agent: —well er… the ‘John Curry Theatre of Skating’?

Mr Feedline: Erm, does that involve a man coming down off the stage and poking you in the eye with a pencil?

Ticket Agent: I don’t think so, Sir, but just let me check, er…

F/X: paper rustling

Ticket Agent: … ah here we are, Sir. Ah, yes, Sir.

Mr Feedline: (quietly) Oh. (normal) In that case I don’t want it.

Ticket Agent: You don’t want that, well, —

Mr Feedline: No, no.

Ticket Agent: —well what else is there…? Ohh! Thi-this might do, Sir. ‘No Poking You In The Eye With A Pencil Please, We’re British’.

Mr Feedline: Mmmm…

Ticket Agent: Oh, Sir! ‘A Bed Full of Pencil-pokers’. Or.. ‘Let My People… Poke You In The Eye With A Pencil’.

Mr Feedline: Erm, look, I-I-I, I hate to sound picky—

Ticket Agent: Oh, you don’t sound picky.

Mr Feedline: Well no, I don’t, no, but… have you got anything apart from a show where a man comes down off the stage and pokes you in the eye with a pencil?

Ticket Agent: Well, well, now, now you make me think of it, so we have got ‘Oh! Calcutta!’

Mr Feedline: Oh yes…

Ticket Agent: Yes. Now there’s a show, Sir, which involves a man not coming down off the stage and poking you in the eye with a pencil.

Mr Feedline: Oh good! Oh that sounds more like it.

Ticket Agent: I’ll just check and find out what he does poke you in the eye with.

Biggles: (bangs gavel) This witness may step down now. That will be all, Mr Hitler.

Mr Feedline: Oh, thank you.

Biggles: Haahh!! Fell for it, eh!

F/X: short burst of machine gun fire

Mr Feedline: (high-pitched) Ahhhhhh…!!

Biggles: He didn’t fool me for a second! Ha haa, right now. I’m afraid I won’t be able to judge the next part of this case, because I’ve got something else to judge in the next court. A beauty contest. In the meantime, (starts leaving) just carry on without me, will you…

Usher: But milord!

F/X: door handle, door closing

Music: [??], then down for

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, we present the quarter finals of Miss Old Bailey Nineteen Seventy-Seven.

Music: fades up momentarily, then out

Announcer: And here’s your host for the evening, Michael Cesspool.

Audience: (applause)

Michael Cesspool: Your Majesty, your Most Royal Highness, your Grace, your Excellency. Your Worships, my Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen. Tables, chairs, napkins, and cruets… curtains, cutlery… things in the soup, gravy on the tablecloths, Stars on Sunday, raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, brown paper packages tied up with strings, these are a few of my – favourite things. Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure now to welcome you all to Miss Old Bailey Nineteen Seventy-Seven. This is of course the third heat, but the doctor says it should get better when I’m less excited… Right now though, let’s meet the judges: First, Mister Justice Biggles.

Biggles: Good evening.

Michael Cesspool: Next, a film actress, who’s been cut off at the bottom of the screen just at the interesting bits.

Judge #2: Good evening. (giggles)

Michael Cesspool: And er, next to her, a racing driver who looks out of place in evening dress.

Judge #3: Good evening. (giggles)

Michael Cesspool: Next to him, a black man to make the panel look balanced.

Judge #4: Good evening.

Michael Cesspool: And finally, last year’s Miss Old Bailey, a girl with big lips who laughs a lot when people talk to her!

Judge #5: Good evening. (giggles)

Michael Cesspool: Well, as you know there are fifty beauties this year, but which of the twenty-five girls will win? (audience reaction) Well, the contestants have already been whittled down from twenty-five to one. So… can we now have our first finalist, please, Miss United Kingdom!

Music: something on strings

Audience: (applause)

Michael Cesspool: Ha, good evening, good evening ha, we-eell, we must stop meeting like this. And er what’s your name again?

Eric Pode: Eric Pode of Croydon.

Michael Cesspool: Ha ha ha, yeah. Well, isn’t she adorable. And er tell me, what are your vital statistics?

Eric Pode: Twenty-one, thirteen, nought.

Michael Cesspool: Er, nought?

Eric Pode: Yeah, I got fallen arches.

Michael Cesspool: Hahaha. Aha. What a doll. And er tell me, tell me now er, what do you do for a living?

Eric Pode: Breathe.

Michael Cesspool: Hahaha. Haha. Aha. Well, isn’t she a panic? But tell me now, er what, what job do you do?

Eric Pode: I work on a building site, as-as-as..as a layer of bricks.

Michael Cesspool: As a bricklayer?

Eric Pode: No, a layer o’ bricks.

Michael Cesspool: Hahaha. Ha. We-eell, move over Sophia Loren, you’ve got real competition here. Now, tell us Miss Croydon, why do you want to win this competition?

Eric Pode: I need the money, I… I got a wife and Crystal Palace to support.

Michael Cesspool: Hahaha. Aha, haha…

Eric Pode: (unintelligible)

Michael Cesspool: … well er, what a hunk of woman, yeah…

Usher: Erm, er—

Michael Cesspool: Yes?

Usher: —Mister Cesspool…

Michael Cesspool: Mmm?

Usher: … erm, here are the judges’ results.

Michael Cesspool: Ah, ah, thank you, yes. And I’m just being handed the judges’ results now…

F/X: paper being torn up

Usher: Don’t you think you want to read them out instead of tearing them up?

Michael Cesspool: Why yes, you’re right, yes. Ahrm. Well I just read out what it says on the paper: Er ‘Will Mister Justice Biggles please get back into courtroom number one, where his trial is just coming to a close.’

Biggles: Oh, right.

F/X: door handle, door slamming shut

Biggles: Er, have I missed anything?

Usher: The prosecution has now finished, and the defence counsel is calling his last witness, milord.

Defence Counsel: Er, call the Burkiss Way’s audience.

Various voices: Call the Burkiss Way’s audience. Call the Burkiss Way’s audience. Call the Burkiss Way’s audience.

Studio Audience: (stomping their feet in imitation of foot steps)

Defence Counsel: Now, you are I believe, the Burkiss Way’s studio audience?

Studio Audience: That is correct, yes.

Defence Counsel: And would you tell the court your address, please?

Studio Audience: (everybody attempting to give their address simultaneously, with someone then shouting ‘Ten Downing Street’ above the general hubbub)

Defence Counsel: I see. Now, remember you’re on oath – has the Burkiss Way ever to your recollection caused you to laugh?

Studio Audience: Errrrm, hmmmmmm…

Defence Counsel: Er, could they have time to think about this one, m’lud?

Biggles: Certainly not. Come to the point, Sir Beatrice, if you’re going to.

Defence Counsel: Very good m’lud. The point is this: I submit, that the laughter heard on the humorous wireless programme ‘The Burkiss Way’, was provoked not by the programme itself, but, by the continuity announcer, who introduced it!

Audience: (general uproar)

Biggles: (bangs gavel) Silence! (audience quietens down again) Explain yourself.

Defence Counsel: I submit, m’lud, that the BBC’s announcers are so funny…

Studio Audience: (laughing)

Defence Counsel: … that throughout the following programme, the audience is still periodically tittering… over the extremely amusing pre-show continuity material. Allow me to demonstrate with this BBC announcer, exhibit J, m’lud.

Continuity Announcer: This is Radio Four.

Studio Audience: (burst of laughter)

Continuity Announcer: And now, the Burkiss Way.

Studio Audience: (longer burst of laughter)

Biggles: (shouting) Quiet! Quiet! (calming down again) I find your case proved, Sir Beatrice. I direct the jury to clear the Burkiss Way and instead, I find the BBC continuity announcer, exhibit J, guilty on all charges. It’s alright, though, I’m not going to sentence you to life…

Continuity Announcer: Oh, thank you milord.

Biggles: … I’m going to sentence you to the exact opposite – four months doing walk-on parts in ‘Men from the Ministry’, take him away.

Continuity Announcer: Ohh, no no no! No…

Biggles: Court (bangs gavel) adjourned. Court ad – journed. (to himself) Phew. Thank goodness for that. Now we can get back to some real work. Right. Into the cockpit.

F/X: propeller plane revving up

Biggles: Look out, Adolf, here we come! Ready, Ginger?

Ginger: Mmm, whenever you are, sweetie.

Biggles: Right.

F/X: propeller plane taking off and flying away

Music: Burkiss Way closing signature tune

Burkiss Way Announcer: (over) Well, well, we’ve made it, the Burkiss Way leaves the court with all charges dropped and completely free. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said of our amazing correspondence course, which will set you back five hundred pounds. Send off now to Jo Kendall, Chris Emmett, Nigel Rees and Fred Harris, and sample the incredible briefs of Andrew Marshall and David Renwick, and the additional briefs of Tom Magee Englefield and Liz Pollock, and you’ll be able to get off with a fifty pound fine, or producer Simon Brett of Stepney, whichever turns you on most. See you in court folks, and happy dynamic living.

End