Voice Over: (newsreel voice) In the modern Britain,
united under a great leader, it's the housewives of Britain who are
getting things moving. (Red Devils flying; picture of Edward
Heath) Here a coachload of lovely ladies are on their way to
speed up production in a car factory. (coach load of pepperpots,
middle class, grey hair, Mary Whitehouse glasses; the coach says
'Tory Tours) And here we are boys, it's the no-hurry brigade
hanging about for endless overtime. And just watch these gallant
girls go into action . .. (cut to a factory yard; some workers in
brown overalls are eating sandwiches out of tins; the clock says
1.15; the coach comes swinging in in undercrank, the ladies pour out
about to belt the men with umbrellas and handbags; the men flee back
into factories) Not working fast enough? Well, there's an answer
for that. (a man at a machine, producing something incredibly
fast; a pepperpot holds an enormous sledgehammer) Yes, this is
certainly the way to speed up production. (wide shot of factory
interior; three pepperpots stand on a gantry above work floor,
wearing armbands, saying 'P.P. ' and dark Mary Whitehouse glasses)
This is the recipe for increased productivity to meet the threat of
those nasty foreigners when Britain takes her natural place at the
head of the British Common Market. (a group of strikers,
picketing with slogans, 'Fair Pay', 'Less Profits', 'Parity', 'No
Victimization') And how's this for a way to beat strikers.
(pepperpots arrive, clinging to side of old Buick; they race in and
start beating the strikers with the banners) Those spotty
continental boys will soon have to look out for Mrs. Britain, and
talking of windmills, these girls aren't afraid to tilt at the
permissive society, (art gallery exterior; pepperpots run in with
bundles and ladders) Business is booming in the so-called arts,
but two can play at that game, chum. (cut to art gallery
interior, pan around paintings 'cleaned up'- trousers and cardigans
being added to nude pictures and statues, Bermuda shorts on David,
shorts on tubular structure, an attendant in shorts too). And
it's not just the modern so-called plastic arts that get the
clean-up treatment.
(Cut to a theatre stage. Desdemona on a bed. Othello with
her.)
Othello: Oh Desdemona, Desdemona.
(The pepperpots race on to the stage and pull him off.)
Voice Over: And those continentals had better watch out
for their dirty foreign literature. Jean-Paul Sartre and Jean Genet
won't know what's hit them. Never mind the foulness of their
language - come '73 they'll all have to write in British.
(pepperpots burning books: 'Bertrand Russell', 'Das Kapital', the
'Guardian ', 'Sartre', 'Freud') You can keep your fastidious
continental bidets Mrs. Foreigner - Mrs. Britain knows how to keep
her feet clean ... but she'll baffle like bingo boys when it comes
to keeping the television screen dean...
(Cut to the BBC TV Centre. The pepperpots parade in carrying
signs: 'Clean TV Centre', 'God Says No To Filth', 'To The Cells'.
Another pepperpot in the background holds a sign: 'Wanted Dead Or
Alive' and photo of Robert Robinson.)
Voice Over: Better watch out for those nasty continental
shows on the sneaky second channel. (armed pepperpots escorting
people out of TV Centre) But apart from attacking that prurient
hot-bed of left-wing continentalism at Shepherds Bush, what else do
these ordinary mums think? Do they accept Hegelianism?
1st Pepperpot: No! ..
Voice Over: Do they prefer Leibnitz to Wittgenstein?
2nd Pepperpot: No! No!
Voice Over: And where do they stand on young people?
3rd Pepperpot: Just here, dear. (pepperpot standing on
long-haired youth's head)
Voice Over: And their power is growing daily and when
these girls roll their sleeves up its arms all the way.
(pepperpots standing on the turret of an armored vehicle; four
pepperpots on motor bikes flank it) Yes, this is the way to
fight the constant war against pornography.
(Machine guns chatter. Two pepperpots in a trench firing.
Mortar bombs, reloading and firing. Bombs and smoke. At the end of
the film we pick up on the nude organist (Terry Jones), sitting
amongst the explosions. He plays his chords.)