(Cut to a large country house sitting more, dominated by large
grinning portrait of Jeremy Thorpe. A bishop is sitting at a desk,
typing. A brigadier in full military uniform just to below the
chest, then a patch of bare midriff, with belly button showing, then
a lavender tutu, incredibly hairy leg, thick army socks and high
heels, is dictating.)
Brigadier: Dear Sir, I wish to protest in the strongest
possible terms. Yours sincerely, Brigadier N. F. Marwood-Git
(retired). Read that back, will you, Brian.
Bishop: And when he had built up Cedron, he sent Horsemen
there, and an host of footmen to the end that issuing out they might
make outroads upon the ways of Judea, as the King commanded them...
Brigadier: Good! Pop it in an envelope and bung it off!
It's no good bottling these things up, Brian. If you feel them you
must say them or you'll just go mad...
Bishop: Oh yes indeed ... as the book of Maccabee said ...
as the flea is like unto an oxen, so is the privet hedge liken unto
a botanist black in thy sight, O Lord!
Brigadier: Quite... Look why don't you just nip out for
lunch, Brian...
Bishop: Yea ... as Raymond Chandler said, it was one of
those days when Los Angeles felt like a rock-hard fig.
Brigadier: Brian, let's stop this pretending, shall we.
Bishop: Oh... yea... as Dirk Bogarde said in his
autobiography...
Brigadier: Brian... let's stop all this futile pretence...
I've... I've always been moderately fond of you...
Bishop: Well to be quite frank, Brigadier ... one can't
walk so closely with a chap like you for... for so long without...
feeling something deep down inside, even if it isn't anything...
anything ... very much.
Brigadier: Well, splendid... Brian... er... well I don't
suppose there's much we can do, really.
Bishop: Not on television ... no...
Brigadier: No... they ... they are a lot more permissive
these days than they used to be...
Bishop: Ah yes... but not with this sort of thing...
Brigadier: No ... I suppose they've ... got to draw the
line somewhere...
Bishop: Yes...
Brigadier: Well take a letter, Brian. Dear Sir, I wish to
protest...
(Cut to an animation sketch.)