Friday Night Comedy from BBC Radio 4 - Dead Ringers, Series 20, Episode 4

Episode Date: July 3, 2020

We hear from Leicester’s oldest resident about the lockdown restrictions, the real reasons for the Covid19 outbreaks in meat factories, and a former Prime Minister performs in Alan Bennett’s latest Talking Head. Starring: Jon Culshaw, Jan Ravens, Lewis MacLeod, Duncan Wisbey and Debra Stephenson.Written by Nev Fountain & Tom Jamieson, Laurence Howarth, Ed Amsden & Tom Coles, Alex Hardy, James Bugg, Simon Alcock, Gareth Ceredig, Athena Kugblenu, Kate Lipson and Sophie Dixon.Producer Bill Dare A BBC Studios Production

This is the BBC. This podcast is supported by advertising outside the UK. Ah, you are listening to the Friday Night Comedy podcast from the BBC, recorded remotely and all interconnected with the finest technological washing lines ever created. Lockdown? Ah, no, no, no. The unifying effects will be incalculable. To enjoy, have a jelly baby. Dead Ringers, the lockdown version.

You're listening to Today with me, Nick Robinson. And me, Martha Carney. The headlines. To prove his virility as he recovers from the coronavirus, Boris Johnson concluded a newspaper interview by doing a push-up. Not the first time we've associated the words pointless exercise with Boris Johnson concluded a newspaper interview by doing a push-up. Not the first time we've associated the words pointless exercise with Boris Johnson. Keir Starmer then responded by challenging the PM to 50 press-ups. I'm in peak physical shape. I spend an hour on the treadmill every morning as getting nowhere fast is what the Labour Party has been all about this past decade.

Boris Johnson said he was shocked that his father Stanley had flown out to Greece to the family villa as he thought he had first dibs on it for the next two weeks. In the city of Leicester a strict lockdown was reimposed and Downing Street urged locals to only leave their homes for essential shopping or to drive hundreds of miles to Durham to test their eyesight. The Prime Minister reminded the people of Leicester of the importance of obeying the lockdown rules as he led a conga line out of his local on the first leg of an epic London pub crawl. The government has been accused of a reckless delay in imposing the lockdown. I'm joined now by Matt Hancock.

Look, Martha, the original national lockdown was two weeks late. This one's two weeks late. And I guarantee you that every subsequent local lockdown will also be two weeks late. And why is that? Because I believe it's sensible to quarantine all government decisions for two weeks before releasing them into the country to make sure they're not infected with any common sense. And does that help? I'll let you know in a fortnight.

With pubs and cafes about to reopen, I'm joined by Shadow Business Secretary Ed Miliband. Look, Martha, this is just plain wrong. You think it's too soon? I don't think cafes should ever open. I've spent the last six years trying to rebuild my career by not eating in public. There's one nibble and I could get papped looking like a gibbon choking on bubble wrap. Ed Miliband, thank you. The big economic news this week was the Prime Minister's speech in Dudley.

Yes, the time now has come for the economy to bounce forward. We can shake off this coronavirus calamity. But what do we need to achieve that? A vast plan to bolster every sector like Roosevelt's New Deal? No, we need empty buzzwords like vim, vigor, energy, pizzazz, speed, get up and go and supercharge. But they won't be enough on their own. We need ever more ludicrously empty Boris buzzwords like

Dumbledink, Toodleflap, Muffybonk, Farfadafara and Gobblepot. Meanwhile in America, President Trump caused outrage by retweeting a video in which a Trump supporter yelled white power. Well, I just want to say this doesn't mean that I'm a racist, as I didn't hear what he said on the clip. The words were muffled under that pointy wizard hood. I thought he said white powder. Nothing like a good snort of white powder to get the madness going in the morning. My favourite is harping. In Hong Kong, following

the passing of a new security law, China has begun a brutal crackdown. We can go live now to our correspondent, Lise Doucette. Yes, awful scenes here, Nick. All around me I can see men, women and children openly weeping. Have they just endured more oppression from the police? No, it's far worse than that, Nick. They've realised that many of them may now have to come and live in the UK. Haven't they suffered enough? In media news, after the success of the BBC's repeats of famous sets from Glastonbury

in place of this year's cancelled event, one festival veteran has complained that he was unfairly overlooked. That is right, Martha. Who can forget that glorious afternoon back in 2017? I played all the hits. Let's dismantle the neo-capitalist elite. Collective bargaining is the absolute right of a properly unionised workforce. Absolute banger, that one. And who could ever forget old Jeremy Corbyn? Well, I'm sure the Labour Party will give it a good go. In other news,

Cirque du Soleil filing for bankruptcy was bad news for its performers. No fun being told you're being let go when you're dangling 80 foot off the ground in a Lycra catsuit. And EasyJet announced it was closing its Stansted base with yet more redundancies, meaning now you'll have to pay £25 if you want to have an additional bag on board and £40 if you want a pilot. an additional bag on board and £40 if you want a pilot. species. So reesy and peasy, but not PC. Donald, it's Morrissey here. Think Elvis on Mogadon. I was sorry to hear the Rolling Stones won't let you play their music at your rallies. It seems they don't want to be associated with a racist, divisive bigot. So I just want to say you can use my songs any time you like. So build a wall... Welcome to Location, Location, Location with me, Kirsty Allsop.

And me, Phil Spencer. Keep watching because one day we might actually have sex and make it worth your while. Today we're helping Dawn to find her perfect starter home in the city of Leicester. We're standing outside the lovely little two-bed semi that I've chosen. What do you think, Dawn? Yeah, it looks really nice.

Well, don't get too smug just yet, Pip, you pastel-shirted sex god. She hasn't seen the property that I've chosen. Where's that then? It's right next door. Follow me. We just have to duck under this hastily erected police cordon. And here we are. Custards, what are you playing at, you chintzy minks? It's exactly the same as this house. Yes, but this one's in the designated lockdown zone. What's the difference?

Well, if you pick my house, you can go out. And if you pick my house, you have less risk of catching a deadly virus. If you pick my house, you can go to the shops and get your hair cut. And if you pick my house, you can stay in your Cath Kidston onesie all day and let every single hair on your body grow as long as you bloody well want. If you pick my house, you can go to the pub and see your family. And if you pick my house, you don't have to go to the pub and you don't have to see your family. Sold. Thanks, Kirsty.

I wonder what my new neighbours are like. Well, if you're anything like me, you'll never find out. I'm Hugh Edwards, buff as Tom Hardy, cute as Tom Thumb. The government has been rocked by the resignation of long-standing senior civil servant Sir Mark Sedwell. We go live now to Laura in Coonsburg. Boring, boring. I'm sorry, is there something wrong, Laura?

Oh no, nothing at all. Why would there be? I'm fine. I'm happy as a fox with a nappy. Laura, are you sure that... The world is on fire and you've given me civil servant resigns. There's a pandemic. There's government sleaze. I mean, for God's sake, Boris is in Parliament having a push-up competition with Keir Flippen-Starmor and I'm on this piddling civil servant story.

Where's the buzz? Where's the fizz? Where's the crash-bang-wallop-doof? Now, come on, Laura, it's not that dull. He was the country's top civil servant. That's like being the world's sexiest stamp collector. Oh, it's a little bit spicy, though. Dominic Cummings is said to be behind it all. He's behind everything. He's probably behind your knicker-draw, Hugh.

It's not news, man. Oh, OK, then. Well, I suppose you won't want to know that there are rumours Mark Sedwell used to be a British spy. Say what now? No, nothing, nothing. Don't tease me, Hughie. Oh, just his connections with MI5 and MI6

and his postings in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq. But you won't want to know all that boring mumbo-jumbo, will you? So that's all from Laura Coons. Hold your horses, Hughie. You're telling me this is actually a spy thriller, and I'm at the heart of it. Oh, come to mama. I can feel it. Oh, yes.

Yes, I can feel it coursing through my veins. The plot, the collusion, the behind-closed-doors double-dealing. Laura's got the scent. Oh, heavens above, Laura, no. She's growing fur and claws. Ow! Mmm, that was Africa by Toto.

Wonderful song and a terrific dog. You're listening to Jeremy Vine. So the pubs are back open and it's going to get ugly. We have a caller from a public house in Chalfont St. Charles. Hello, Steve. Describe the terrible scenes you're witnessing. Hi, Jeremy. Yes, going rather swimmingly here. What? You're swimming in each other's red wine and crisp vomit? No, no, no. It's going swimmingly. I arrived at the White Duck, gave my name and contact details, waited in line.

Lines? Class A drugs in Buckinghamshire, wow. No, no, no, a line of people, a queue. We waited, spaced two metres apart. Two metres apart because of all the swinging chairs, no doubt. It sounds like utter chaos. Next caller. Sharon in Stoke-on-Trent described the disarray caused by you and your chums drinking seven pints of Bacardi Breezer before downing the 90% alcohol hand sanitiser.

Well, it's absolute bedlam here, Jeremy. That's more like it. Somebody spilled a packet of nuts and we're all trying to pick them up while maintaining strict social distancing. Oh, for pity's sake, this isn't news. Will someone call me with a tale of mayhem and excess? And if you haven't seen any, make some fast and then call me. Get out of your head, lose control and save the news. Here's Run DMC. You're listening to The World at One with me,

Sarah Montague. Yes, you've been furloughed, but you do still need to put some pants on occasionally. A local lockdown has been imposed in Leicester after a spike there in coronavirus cases. Matt Hancock joins me now. This is extremely concerning, isn't it? Not at all, Sarah. It just shows our whack-a-mole strategy is working. That's a reference to the popular arcade game. That's right. It was Boris's idea to call it that. He's brilliant at thinking of childish analogies for stuff,

really puts it in a way the British public understand. But doesn't it trivialise what is a very serious situation? Not in the least. It's actually part of our wider Hungry Hippos strategy. Which is? Basically, whoever crams the most plastic balls in their mouth gets to choose which board game analogy we use next. Boris always wins. The country is suffering from a dangerous pandemic and you're wasting time on tasteless metaphors? Have a care, Sarah. Don't make me use

the Kaplunk strategy on you. You don't want me to withdraw my cocktail stick and make all your marbles fall out. What does that even mean? Right, I've just about had enough of you. Let's just say you are a plastic saddlebag and you're about to get tossed off the spring-loaded bucking bronco's backside that is Matt Hancock. Matt Hancock in the radio car with the lead piping but without a clue. Thank you. You've reached the voicemail of the Don. Once I get down this ramp, I'll be able to call you back, so it may be a while. Hey, Donald, it's Mick. Listen, you can't use our songs at your rallies no more. Playing to a crowd of old white men desperately trying to relive their glory days

whilst also being an old white man trying to live your glory days is my thing. whilst also being an old white man trying to live your glory days is my thing. Wondering how you're going to survive without Wimbledon this summer? From the people who brought you Peter Crouch Saves Our Summer comes a new vehicle for the most charismatic man in sport. Hi there, and welcome to Andy Murray's cheeky-chappy fun-time banter show. Over the next few weeks, I'll be bringing you a hilarious, laughter-packed variety show

where anything could happen, but probably won't. And I'll be talking to some of my celebrity friends along the way, including my mum, my wife, my mum again, and Sue Barker. Join Andy for a host of fun features. And now, a list of my 100 favourite tennis strokes.

One, lob, two, volley, three, backhand volley. Hilarious pranks. Okay, so Roger Federer is coming round the corner and I'm going to jump out and say, Boo! Oh, in the time it's taken me to say this, he's already walked past and is now two miles away. That's a shame. That's Andy Murray's cheeky, chappy, fun-time banter show, coming this weekend.

Let's be honest, it can't be much worse than the crouch thing. BBC News at 10 with me, Fiona Bruce. I won't be easing your lockdown. BBC News at 10 with me, Fiona Bruce. I won't be easing your lockdown. We now go to Sophie Raworth for a live report from a place health experts are warning not to visit unless absolutely necessary. Thanks, Fiona. I'm in a Wetherspoons. Joining me is Wetherspoons founder Tim Martin. Tim, you must be delighted the pubs are back.

Not really, Sophie. But you've got everything you wanted. Exactly. There's nothing for me to complain about anymore. We're leaving Europe, pubs are allowed to open, and even worse, I have to pay my employees again. I hate doing that. Well, look on the bright side. Your pubs are looking cleaner than ever. Oh, don't make it worse, Sophie. People don't go to Wetherspoons for their cleanliness. It's like going dogging for the conversation. We had to sterilise the bar, wipe down the fruities, clean the carpets for the first time in 40 years. We found enough hair to build four middle-aged men. Now I have to stay in my horrible clean Wetherspoons forever

with nothing to get enraged about. Tim, you realise you've just raged on at me for several minutes? I did? Well, there's life in the old dog yet. Hey, everybody, 50p pints all round. And don't smile at the bar staff. Oh, please, next time just send me to Syria. Welcome to Front Row.

I'm Kirsty Lang. With the success of the BBC's new versions of Alan Bennett's Talking Heads, Hollywood has now moved in to remake them all over again. Producer Mike Haircut joins me now. We really pushed the boundaries on this, Kirsty. We really shook it up, introduced some danger. Take a cream cracker under the settee, for example.

Let's hear some of the original 1980s version. Oh dear, I've had a fall and found a cracker under the settee. Ecky plonk. How vexatious is that? I shall give that cleaner a stern talking to about the need to move the furniture in order to hoover if I manage to live through this monologue.

You see, it's a little safe. So in our remake, you know, there's a lot more to play for. I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. But you left a cracker under my settee. I don't have a dustpan and brush, but I do have a particular set of skills. If you don't run the dice and round my shack pile thoroughly,

I will find you and I will kill you. We think people will love how we dragged Lady of Letters into the 21st century. Again, we have a clip of the original. Well, I was most taken aback by smoking at the funeral. So I dashed off a stern letter to the crematorium on my finest Basildon bond. The exchange stopped after a token promised by the undertaker to address the matter. So I filled the emptiness of my life by taking an unhealthy interest in the comings and goings of the new couple opposite.

That's dullsville, you know. So we tweaked the main character and hey, Bristol. Well, Mr. Undertaker, so I wrote you a letter, and then you wrote me a letter, and then I wrote you a letter, and then you wrote me a letter. Then I considered the matter settled. Then I go to another funeral,

and there are still pallbearers smoking the cigarettes in the car park. Just when I thought I was out, you pull me back in. So, say hello to my little friend. That's what they mean when they say smoking is bad for your health. Well, I must say that you completely missed the whole point of the original series. Thanks, Kirsty. That means a lot. Hello and welcome to Inside the Factory with me, Greg Wallace, the human emoji. Throughout lockdown, I've been visiting meatpacking factories up and down the country to see how they're coping.

This week, I've come to talk to manager, Tam. Tam, how's it going? Hi, Greg. Luckily, we've not had any problems here so far, unlike many of our colleagues. I believe about 450 people have tested positive in factories just like this one. So, what do you think is the common factor here? Well, somebody is obviously introducing droplets into these sterile environments,

possibly by coughing or shouting. Shouting? How are you supposed to talk if you can't shout? Erm, normally. It's best if you don't shout. No shouting. You'll be telling me I can't taste the carcasses next. Now, what have we got here?

Oh, lovely bit of half a cow. Sorry, can I ask half a cow. Sorry, can I ask you not to... Relax, I've done this everywhere I've been. Anglesey, Merthyr Tydfil, Leicester. Now, where's my lucky fork? Okay, you shouldn't have brought that in here. Oh, I always use my lucky fork. Got it at a wet market in Wuhan back in December. Came free with my bat burger. Greg, I might need you to leave. But I didn't even get to put on a hairnet for my reason. If you wouldn't mind. Alright, alright. I'll just shake you

by the hand. No. Well, it's been a long day. Time to go home and tend my herd of imported Asian pigs. Mike Pence speaking Mike, are you awake? Oh, God It's four in the morning, sir

A lot of musicians don't like me They don't want me to play their music at my rallies But I don't care Musicians are very bad people The Rolling Stones, not nice You can't walk onto the stage to silence Mike, I found plenty more songs. Really great songs.

The greatest songs ever written. And no one can stop me using them. You mean they're out of copyright? Okay, let's hear. The wheels on the bus go round and round. Round and wheels on the... It's called The Wheels on the Bus. This is a great song.

It was the first dance between me and Melania. Sir, I don't think you can really use that. It's like aerobic. It's very, very good. This is another favorite. It was actually the first dance I had with my wife before Melania. I like that spider. Why does everyone say he's incy wincy? He looks regular size to me. Huge, in fact. He's a huge, huge spider. It's late, sir. We have a heavy schedule.

Please. Oh, twinkle, twinkle little. What do you think? This is my actual favorite. One of the greatest songs of all time. So great. It was the first dance I had with a woman I cheated on one of my wives with. This song could have been written about me, except I'm a really big star.

So big, and I don't twinkle, so don't ask. Mr. President, I don't know if any of these songs are really quite... Bah! Bah! What is... Bah-bah! Bah-bah! Black sheep! Have you any? Well, black sheep matter. I've always been very strong on that. Just ask the little boy who lives down the lane. Mike, these lullabies are making me sleepy.

Good night, sir. Sing with me. No. Ba, ba, black sheep, have you any wool? No, please. Yes, sir, I got loads. It's four in the morning. Three bags full.

One for the market. One for the market. This is Channel 4 News with Jon Snow. Don't you wish your grandad was hot like me? Don't you? Don't you? With a local lockdown enforced across Leicester, I'm joined on the line by one of the city's most famous residents, Richard III.

All right, Baba. Won't tell a lie, I'm gutted. Two more weeks stuck underground in Leicester, I've got a right bag on me. Sorry, you've got... I'm hardies, anything. I had big plans. Dig myself up, hit the pubs,

go watch City down the King Power, maybe visit me old car park, see what's cracking. My kingdom for an horse, so I could ride out to Loughborough or Ashby-de-la-Zouche, get out of this dump. Don't know how long I can take it. I mean, you have been underground in Leicester for 535 years. That's a fair point, actually, cock.

What's another fortnight, eh? Ta-ra! Welcome to Newsnight with me, Kirsty Ward. Bring that ting in the place where you're needed. Big ting make me want to bust when I beat it. More on that story later. The government has announced its plans for a full return to school for all pupils in September. I'm joined by the Education Secretary, Gavin Williamson.

I want to be absolutely upfront about saying it's nice to be here, Kirsty. How can schools possibly do what you're asking of them while maintaining social distancing? Well, Kirsty, after doing a lot of work on this, we realised we couldn't make the schools bigger. That just wasn't realistic. So instead, we're going to make the children smaller. How's that going to work? Unless you're planning to shrink them. We're planning to shrink them. At first, we thought we'd do it by not feeding them over the summer, but Marcus Rashford rather spoiled that plan. But then I read a fascinating study about an entire family

who actually lived inside a grandfather clock and had little furniture made of paperclips and things. Are you talking about the borrowers? That's the one. So my plan is to shrink all children in Britain with a... a ray gun? Or a potion, maybe. Haven't worked out the finer details yet.

But once they're all the size of borrowers, they'll be so worried about falling down drains or being eaten by crows, nobody will give COVID-19 a second thought. Well, I suppose it's got as much chance of working as the NHS tracing app. Gavin Williamson, thank you. You're watching E4,

the channel for people who think ITV2's all a bit highbrow. And now, a special episode of Don't Tell the Bride. In Bridport, our groom-to-be Dave has been tasked with planning the perfect wedding for his blushing bride. With the big day fast approaching, he meets his wedding planner. Now Dave, this is Covid Britain, so you can only have three guests. Everyone has to bring their own packed lunch for music, it's songs of praise playing on a disinfected telly and the vicar's in a hazmat suit.

Are you disappointed? No, I was just thinking it sounds much more romantic than what I would have organised. This is Don't Tell the Bride, after all. Hello and welcome to a new series of ramblings. We're finally out of lockdown, so whereas in the last series back in April the most epic walk I took you on was from the sofa to the freezer to get another bowl of Ben and Jerry's, finally once again we're

able to venture out into the glorious British countryside for some peace and quiet and tranquility. Before I tell you exactly where today's ramble will take us, let's get to the top of this hill and soak in the view of the... thousands of cars parked illegally so they can access that nearby beach where the council's closed the car parks. Get out of the way, love. I want to park there. Screw you, mate. I saw that spot first. Like hell you did. Oi, come out, you cunt.

Come here, you. Excuse me, excuse me. Your child just dropped that crisp packet. Are you accusing my boy or something? No one talks to our Kyle like that. You weirdo. Are you accusing my boy of something? No one talks to her, Coyle. Look, that's... You weirdo!

Excuse me, you over there. Aren't you worried crowding onto a beach like this will lead to a second wave of infections putting further strain on the hospitals? Are you suggesting we don't love the NHS? How dare you? I'll have you know we were out there clapping every Thursday night,

sometimes with maracas. Yeah, well said, darling. Well said. You people are mad. Let's get her! No, what? As I was saying, today's ramble will take me straight back to the peace and tranquillity of my house, which I am never, ever leaving ever again.

You've reached Keir Starber. I can't come to the phone right now, as I'm busy scrutinising the detail of my hair. Hey Keir, hi, it's me, Ed. Look, I just want to say well done for clamping down on anti-Semitism in the party. Maybe now people will finally move on and start talking about all our exciting policies. Policies such as, number one, absolutely no anti-Semitism whatsoever. Number two, sorry, could you ring me back and remind me what our other exciting policies are? That'd be super duper. Okay, bye. And now we continue our Talking Heads series with a new piece from Alan Bennett.

It's amazing what you can get out of him with a slice of Battenberg and a fishing rod. So here is a woman of Battenberg and a fishing rod. So here is a woman of extremely little importance indeed. The BT man came this morning. He said his name was Kenneth, which is a good name for a telephone engineer. I was just about to open the Tesco own brand shortbread when he told me he'd driven all the way from Woking. Any man who can negotiate the A3 at this hour deserved some respect, so I put out my family circle selection box from Christmas, with the gypsy cream still intact. I casually mentioned in passing to Kenneth that I used to be Prime Minister. He didn't say anything, of course, made a funny harrumphing noise. Perhaps he didn't hear me, as at the time he was rummaging in a toolbox. Kenneth asked me what the trouble

was. I told him my phone wasn't receiving incoming calls because I'd been expecting an important call from a Mr Johnson regarding my impassioned speech about the removal of that Sir Mark Sedwell as National Security Advisor. I explained that Mr Johnson would definitely be trying to ring, so the phone had to be faulty. He pulled a face, checked my plugs and said rather condescendingly there was nothing wrong with my phone and perhaps the reason why it wasn't ringing

was because Mr. Johnson couldn't give a stuff about my opinion. I just gave him one of my twisted grins and put the family circle assortment back in the cupboard. As he left, he said, goodbye Mrs. Thatcher, nice to see you're still going. Once I was alone, I sat on my ottoman and waited for the phone to ring. The scrap of paper with the number for BT Customer Services gripped tightly between my fingers. Oh well, I thought. Same time tomorrow. Dead Ringers was performed by John Coleshaw, Lewis MacLeod, Jan Ravens, Deborah Stevenson and Duncan Wisby. The writers were Nev Fountain and Tom Jameson,

Lawrence Howard, Ed Amsden and Tom Coles, Alex Hardy, James Bug, Simon Alcock, Gareth Seredig, Athena Koblenu and Sophie Dixon. It was a BBC Studios production and the producer and creator was Bill Dare. and the producer and creator was Bill Dare. Hello, I'm Tim Harford, the presenter of More or Less. And I believe that if you want to understand the world,

which is a very big, very complicated place, then numbers are an absolutely essential tool. They're like a telescope for an astronomer or an X-ray machine for a radiographer. Numbers answer questions we can't answer Thank you. So please subscribe to More or Less and let numbers light up your world.