Getting You Home On Friday

Intro: (Getting You Home On Friday - Episode - 011 - For Pittius Sake, it’s Ol’ Blue and Edgar.)

INTRO SONG

DEEP VOICE: We're Getting You Home On Fr, Fr, Fr, Fr, Fr, Fr, Fr, Fri, Fri, Fri, Friday!

INTRO OUT

(On the Roman Nose, More's the Pity)

VOICE: And now, to Rome!!

CROWD CHEERING.

CAESAR: Sensus?

SENSUS: Yes, my Lord Caesar?

CAESAR: What news of my brother?

SENSUS: Your younger brother, Sextus?

CAESAR: No, Septus. I am quite over Sextus.

SENSUS: Never thought I'd hear you say that.

CAESAR: No, neither did I.

SENSUS: Septus is well my Lord, but.....

CAESAR: But?

SENSUS: But, he is trying to sell off part of the empire.

CAESAR: He wouldn't have the stomach. Well, not if I get to it.

SENSUS: Interesting and harsh.

CAESAR: And what do you suggest?

SENSUS: We bring him back to Rome to keep an eye on him.

CAESAR: Did you say, "bring him home to keep a lion on him?"

SENSUS: No, my Lord, keep an eye on him.

CAESAR: I preferred my idea.

SENSUS: It has merit, but he is family.

CAESAR: More's the pity.

SENSUS: Shall I call him?

CAESAR: Call my brother?

SENSUS: No, Pity, or rather Pittius.

CAESAR: A bit of stretch, but why not?

SENSUS: (CALLING OUT) Call Pittius Sake!

GUARD : (DISTANT) Call Pittius Sake!!

INTERCOM: (OVER PA) Oh Pittius, Sake, pity’s sake no moooooore!

DOORS OPENING, SANDALED FEET ON MARBLE.

CAESAR: Fix…

SENSUS: I'll fix that Lord Caesar.

PITTIUS: Ave, Lord Caesar.

CAESAR: Ave Pittius, welcome. What’s new? Entertain us with some false hope
or ideal.

PITTIUS: Well, In fact, I am working on a new project.

CAESAR: Do tell, Pittius.

PITTIUS: I think that I may be able to relocate some of the Empire's services to
provinces that have cheaper labour costs.

CAESAR: Interesting, Pittius.

PITTIUS: It could save the Empire millions.

CAESAR: Very interesting. What services do you intend to relocate?

PITTIUS: Those that drain the budget and serve no real purpose; such as the complaints department.

SENSUS: But…

CAESAR: But? Sensus would you kindly refrain from thrusting your butt into
these conversations.

SENSUS: Forgive me, Caesar, but won't this mean that any complaint,
regardless of its merit, will take months, if not years, to process?

CAESAR: People will start to feel that we don't care and eventually give up complaining.

(PAUSE)
Do it, Pittius.

PITTIUS: Very well, my Lord.

CAESAR: Just a question?

PITTIUS: Yes, my Lord?

CAESAR: We couldn't move the reporters over there too, could we?

SENSUS: Not unless we move the lions over there, too. Reporters are a staple!

CAESAR: Of course they are. Thank you Pittius.

PITTIUS: Ave Lord Caesar, Ave Senator Sensus.

CAESAR: Ave Pittius.

SENSUS: Ave.

PITTIUS: Oh, forgive me, my Lord.

CAESAR: Yes Pittius?

PITTIUS: Do you require your orgy indoors this week?

CAESAR: No, al fresco will be fine.

SENSUS: Weather permitting, naturally.

PITTIUS: Naturally. Ave.

SANDALED FEET EXITING, DOORS CLOSING

CAESAR: Nice enough fellow.

SENSUS: I suppose.

CAESAR: Mind you this whole offshore relocation may have merit.

SENSUS: Thinking of the senate, Lord Caesar?

CAESAR: And my family. Christmas is always a bore.

SENSUS: Chris…what?

CAESAR: Oh, too soon.

THEME OUT.

(Ed & Ted, Ol' Blue)

THEME SONG: GENTLE GUITAR STUMMING AND WHISTLING.

NARRATOR: Give me a home among the gum trees, a dog with bad fleas, and a
sheila too or a kangaroo, I'm not fussy. The outback, a place of sports,
diggers, dingoes, dinkums, dickheads and dinkum dickheads.
Where men wash with the sweat of their brow... so follow me now,
down this old country lane.

THEME SONG FADES OUT.

TED: Ed.

ED: Ted.

TED: Strueth.....

(PAUSE)

ED: Strueth what?

TED: I do wish yerd stop interuptin' me mid-sentence.

ED: Sorry, Ted.

TED: No worries.

ED: So…

TED: So what?

ED: Yeh gunna finish yer sentence?

TED: Oh yeah. I was sayin', strueth it's 'ot.

ED: Not wrong.

TED: Real 'ot. In fact this morning we 'ad to boil the kettle jist to cool the
water down.

ED: Jeez, that's 'ot.

TED: Real 'ot. So 'ot the ol' dog jist lies there all still like.

(PAUSE)

ED: Old blue?

TED: Yeah.

ED: 'e's dead.

TED: Yeh reckon?

ED: Dinkum.

TED: That'd do it.

ED: Too right.

TED: Yep. No wonder.

ED: Wonder what?

TED: Yeh know. No wonder

ED: No wonder, what?

TED: 'e didn't do so well roundin' up the sheep.

ED: That'd do it.

TED: Yeah, poor ol' Blue.

ED: Poor ol' Blue.

TED: How do reckon 'e'd go.....

ED: Not fast.

TED: I wish you'd let me finish off me sentences.

ED: Sorry mate.

TED: How'd you reckon 'ed go on the barbeque?

ED: Not good.

TED: Not good?

ED: Nah. He couldn't cock 'is leg.

TED: Too right. Must've been another dog.

ED: Which one?

TED: Blue.

ED: Oh yeah, Blue.

(PAUSE)

Didn't yer name 'im after ol' Blue?

TED: Oo?

ED: Blue.

TED: Nah.

ED: Nah?

TED: Nah.

ED: How did yer name 'im?

TED: After 'is mother.

ED: Oh.... Blue, right.

CROW CAWS AND GUNSHOT.

THEME OUT.
(Old Edgar, Life)

OLD EDGAR: (THICK YORKSHIRE ACCENT) In those days, things were different. People 'ad time for a
simple chat over a nice cuppa tea. Time itself moved so much slower. Not like these
days. I remember, when I was a young'ne I would rise at a sparrow's fart.

A VERY LONG AND LOUD RASPBERRY.

Not much roughage we had either. But those sun rises was blooming marvelous......

RAIN.

or at least I imagined them so behind all that cloud and rain. Breakfast was such a treat
and I remember old mum bent over the old stove with the milkman trying to clear her
airway with the Heimlich manoeuver. Oo aye we'd have yoghurt for a week and an ice
cream for Sunday if we promised not to tell father.

'E was a lovely man. He signed up for the war effort as soon as hostilities broke out over
the yogurt and it's been four years since his first letter. Well, actually it was written by his
Captain as Dad was illiterate. It was the curse of the era really. Not being able to read and
write limits you somewhat, so Dad could only really be a laborer or politician. But being a
self-respecting man, he did neither and became a beverage sampler. His Captain wrote a
simple letter and I remember it well.

Dear Mrs. Smith your husband spoke rarely of you and less so after he was killed in action.
Yours Sincerely Captain Owlsbottom. And that's been four years and not a word since. But
that's him all over. Out of sight out of mind.
It was back then, that I decided to take the milkman's advice and get out of the house by
sundown and so started my magnificent adventure.
It was a beautiful day, but not where we were living. If it rained a pint it rained a lot more.
So, I set off with my kit on my shoulder and a song in my heart.

GENTLE YET UPBEAT GUITAR PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND.

Ah, yeah. The road rose to greet me, or I fell over a lot, either way, it took some time before
I had my first encounter. It was the Parson. A very religious man, an upright and steadfast
man of the cloth that we reverently called pencil prick. He was travelling to the house of a
neighbor, whose daughter had strayed from the good and proper path and the Old
Reverend made it his business to bring her back to the fold.

GUITAR FADES OUT.

Numerous times I could hear them mid exorcism her screaming and he praying "O Lord"
over and over again. I mean he mustn’t’ve been much of a minister as you think that the
average parson would only need one crack at an exorcism.

Anyways, he sees me and greets me accordingly and asks me if I’ve been to church recently.
I says I has. He looks at me all strange like and says that he can't remember the time and I
informs him that it was when we buried old Gran. "She's dead?” he says. All surprised and
says "I 'opes so". Then I remember that he was away on business with that young secretary
of 'is and mention it like, an' all of a sudden he turns bright red and rudely walks off. So off I
trot in the opposite direction to find me way in this wonderful thing we call life.

(Credits)

LINDA: You have been listening to the voices of: Nate Gothard, Hester van der Vyver, Thomas Taufan, Linda Chong, Cheng and Nicholas Papademetriou.

Thank you for Listening.

THEME SONG OUT WITH JOYFUL ANIMAL NOISES.
END.

Copyright by Mike Jones and Iley Jones