(Animation: a vicious rampaging bun)
Voice Over: Well that's all for Attila the Bun, and now -
(A village idiot in smock and straw hat, red cheeks, straw in
mouth, sitting on a wall, making funny noises and rolling his eyes.)
1st Voice Over: Arthur Figgis is an idiot. A village
idiot. Tonight we look at the idiot in society.
(Cut to close-up of Figgis talking to camera. Very big
close-up losing the top and bottom of his head.)
Figgis: (educated voice) Well I feel very keenly
that the idiot is a pan of the old village system, and as such has a
vital role to play in a modern rural society, because you see ...
(suddenly switches to rural accent) ooh ar ooh ar before the
crops go gey are in the medley crun and the birds slides nightly on
the oor ar ... (vicar passes and gives him sixpence) Ooh ar
thankee, Vicar ... (educated voice) There is this very real
need in society for someone whom almost anyone can look down on and
ridicule. And this is the role that ... ooh ar naggy gamly rangle
tandie oogly noogle Goblie oog ... (passing lady gives .him
sixpence) Thank you, Mrs. Thompson... this is the role that I
and members of my family have fulfilled in this village for the past
four hundred years... Good morning, Mr. Jenkins, ICI have increased
their half-yearly dividend, I see.
(We see Mr. Jenkins pass, he is also an idiot, identically
Mr. Jenkins: Yes, splendid.
Figgis: That's Mr. Jenkins - he's another idiot. And so
you see the idiot does provide a vital psycho-social service for
this community. Oh, excuse me, a coach party has just arrived. I
shall have to fall off the wall, I'm afraid.
(He falls backwards off the wall. Cut to Figgins in idiot's
costume coming out of a suburban home. He walks on to the lawn on
which are several pieces of gym equipment. He rum head-on into horse
(speeded up) and falls over, concussed.)
2nd Voice Over: Arthur takes idiotting seriously. He is up
at six o'clock every morning working on special training equipment
designed to keep him silly. And of course he takes great pride in
(Figgis, dressed in nice clean smock, jumps into a pond He
immediately scrambles up, pulls out a mirror and pats mud an his
face critically, as if making-up.)
2nd Voice Over: Like the doctor, the blacksmith, the
carpenter, Mr. Figgis is an important figure in this village and -
like them - he uses the local bank.
(Village square. A bank. Figgis is walking towards it. People
giggling and pointing. He goes into a silly routine. Figgis enters
the bank. Cut to bank manager standing outside bank. Caption on
screen: 'M. BRANDO - BANK MANAGER')
Bank Manager: Yes, we have quite a number of idiots
3rd Voice Over: What kind of money is there in idiotting?
Manager: Well nowadays a really blithering idiot can make
anything up to ten thousand pounds a year - if he's the head of some
big industrial combine. But of course, the more old-fashioned idiot
still refuses to take money.
(We see Figgis handing over a check to cashier; cashier pushes
across a pile of moss, pebbles, bits of wood and acorns.)
Manager: (voice over) He takes bits of string,
wood, dead budgerigars, sparrows, anything, but it does make the
cashier's iob very difficult; but of course they're fools to
themselves because the rate of interest over ten years on a piece of
moss or a dead vole is almost negligible.
(A clerk appears at door of bank.)
Clerk: Mr. Brando.
Clerk: Hollywood on the phone.
Manager: I'll take it in the office.
(Cut to a woodland glade.)
3rd Voice Over: But Mr. Figgis is no ordinary idiot. He is
a lecturer in idiocy at the University of East Anglia. Here he is
taking a class of third-year students.
(Half a dozen loonies led by Figgis come dancing through the
glade singing tunelessly. They are wearing long University scarves.)
3rd Voice Over: After three years of study these
apprentice idiots receive a diploma of idiocy, a handful of mud and
a kick on the head.
(A vice-chancellor stands in a University setting with some
young idiots in front of him. They wear idiot gear with BA hoods.
One walks forward to him, he gets a diploma, a fateful of mud and
stoops to receive his kick on the head. Cut to happy parents smiling
3rd Voice Over: But some of the older idiots resent the
Old Idiot: I'm a completely self-taught idiot. I mean, ooh
arh, nob arhh, nob arhh .... nobody does that anymore. Anybody who
did that round here would be laughed off the street. No, nowadays
people want something wittier.
(Wife empties breakfast over him. Cut to idiot falling
repeatedly off a wall.)
3rd Voice Over: Kevin O'Nassis works largely with walls.
Kevin: (voice over) You've got to know what you're
doing. I mean, some people think I'm mad. The villagers say I'm mad,
the tourists say I'm mad, well I am mad, but I'm naturally mad. I
don't use any chemicals.
3rd Voice Over: But what of the idiot's private life? How
about his relationship with women?
(Idiot in bed. Pull back to reveal he shares it with two very
young, thin, nude girls.)
Idiot: Well I may be an idiot but I'm no fool.
Voice Over: But the village idiot's dirty smock and
wall-falling are a far cry from the modern world of the urban idiot.
(stock film of city gents in their own clothes pouring out of
trains) What kinds of backgrounds do these city idiots come
(Vox pops film of city gents. Subtitles explain their
First City Idiot: Eton, Sandhurst and the Guards, ha, ha,
Second City Idiot: I can't remember but I've got it
written down some where.
Third City Idiot: Daddy's a banker. He needed a wastepaper
Fourth City Idiot: Father was Home Secretary and mother
won the Derby.
(Cut to a commentator with mike in close-up. Pull back in his
speech, to discover he is standing in front of the main gate at
Lords cricket ground.)
Interviewer: The headquarters of these urban idiots is
here in St John's Wood. Inside they can enjoy the company of other
idiots and watch special performances of ritual idiotting.
(Cut to quick wide-shot of cricket match being played at
Lords. Cut to five terribly old idiots watching.)
First Idiot: Well left.
Second Idiot: Well played.
Third Idiot: Well well.
Fourth Idiot: Well bred.
Fifth Idiot: (dies) Ah!
(Another very quick wide-shot of Lords. There is nothing at
all happening and we can 't distinguish anyone.)