The time now is five o'clock.
♪♪
Trevor, it's on!
- Hello. - Hello.
Avast ye landlubbers.
- Today we are going to be looking at making jelly eggs.
Ohh!
- And finally finish off with a lovely dollop of cream.
It looks very splendid, I think.
And so does Bill's by the looks of it.
Treasure. Argh.
- And can we get a close-up of Danny's?
- And camera one, close-up.
- Or in my case a jelly omelette.
Walk the plank, you scurvy knave.
- Oh, that's quite enough of this!
Dinah!
- Finish now and go to the telecine.
And there we are.
A very delicious idea for a tea party.
- On Monday, I went to Silverstone race track
to try out the latest Formula One racing car.
Run telecine.
- And cut. - I'm gone for a few weeks
- and while the cat's away? - Thank you, Sandy.
- What were you thinking, letting the boys do the cooking?
- The children love it. We've had lots of letters.
- Children don't want to see grownups playing silly billies.
And talking of letters, care to explain?
It's for the summer road show.
Didn't you edit them?
- I just assumed all of them went in.
- No, dear. Because then we run the risk
of ending up in some godforsaken place
in the middle of nowhere with nothing to film.
On air in 5, 4...
Sit up straight.
You'd better just hope for your sake.
- As you know, our Summer Roadshow is next month,
and we've received hundreds of letters from you
asking us to come stay in your neck of the woods.
So if Bill will do the honours?
Aye aye.
In here somewhere.
Not this one.
Ah-ha!
- Thank you, Bill. - Aye aye.
- And this letter is from Trevor,
- aged 7... - It's mine. Mum! Mum! It's mine!
Who lives in...
♪♪
Great Slaughter.
♪♪
Quiet, please.
Run camera, action.
- The exciting thing about the summer road show
is we never know what we will find.
But we certainly weren't expecting this.
- Now, I expect you think Nuns spend all day praying
and eating fish on Fridays.
But here at St Vincent's convent,
they do something very different.
- Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum.
- It isn't rum, Bill. - Aw.
- Later on, Sister Boniface will be showing you
how she turns these...
into wine.
A simple chemical reaction.
Anthocyanins malvidin, 3 glucoside flavone,
3 Catechin, 86% water, 12% ethanol,
1% glycerol, 0.4% organic acids.
Was I supposed to do that bit later?
Here's one we made earlier.
- Only 5/6 a bottle with a 5% case discount
and 10% on bulk orders.
Very good.
Cut. Thank you.
- How was that? Did I come in too early?
[ Indistinct conversations ]
Our grand cru.
[ Sniffs ] A light bodied red
with a subtle hint of raspberries and black pepper.
That is a lot of wine.
- Yeah. Six thousand bottles a year.
90% we sell retail. The rest...
"Gifts and services."
- Gifts and services? - Yeah.
Put simply, say we get a burst pipe.
You're a plumber. You fix my pipe.
I "gift" you a crate of grand cru to say "thank you."
Meaning the taxman don't get a sniff either side,
so it's a win-win.
And don't worry, kids, because it's all perfectly legal.
[ Chuckles ]
Cut!
We'll wrap this, thank you.
A word.
Finish up, then I want you
and the presenters at the "studio" for a meeting.
Although why you couldn't find anywhere more suitable
than a village hall is...
We were limited for choice.
How was your meeting with the Controller?
Not a happy chappy.
Viewing figures are in free fall.
Hardly a surprise given your shenanigans
- in my absence. - Actually they rose while I...
And will be even unhappier
when we give the kiddies a crash course in tax evasion.
- Obviously we're not gonna use that...
- When this week is mercifully over,
I think you should look for a nice little job in Radio.
No need for a gloomy face.
It's for the best.
Some people just aren't cut out for children's television.
♪♪
Go on. In.
♪♪
- Dinah's not here. She's late. She is never late.
Let's just hope she not been stuck in a car accident.
- [ Squawks ] Nice to see you.
Dead women tell no tales.
On air in 10.
Can we get him out, please?
He can't go on like this.
Dead women tell no tales.
- Quiet, please. Thank you. - Okay. Ready?
Good.
On air in five, four...
♪♪
- Hello. - Hello.
Yo, ho, ho.
- You may have noticed we're not in our usual studio.
We're in our temporary road show studio
here in Great Slaughter.
And what a week we've got lined up for you.
- Including a very exciting announcement
where Danny and I will be explaining what these are for.
Coming to two.
- You'd never believe it was made of lolly sticks, would you?
And now it only needs varnishing.
- But as the glue on this hasn't had time to dry yet,
here's one we made earlier.
- At least we hope there's one we made earlier.
Danny appears to be having trouble finding it.
Is that a...?
I think I need a "hand."
[ Both gasp ]
- Stay off camera two. Off camera two!
Maybe some "body" hid it.
They'd be "dead" if they did!
Oh! There we are.
Found it.
♪♪
Finish up now!
♪♪
A lovely lolly stick pipe rack
which I'm sure any father would be delighted
- to receive as a present. - Go to telecine!
- But unfortunately we've run out of time.
So now over to Jono to tell us more about what we found
in Great Slaughter yesterday.
♪♪
- Yesterday we visited St Vincent's convent
where we met a group of very unusual Nuns.
Run telecine!
♪♪
What have you got?
A button. Lodged in her teeth.
We'll have to wait for the post mortem,
but I'm 99.98 percent certain cause of death was asphyxiation.
She was smothered.
Mm.
Anything else?
A forensic nightmare.
The corpse was moved, thus rendering all trace evidence
contaminated by Uncle Tom Cobley and a television crew.
A veritable pig's ear of a crime scene.
Yes. So, on balance.
Not the most propitious news.
- The set was prepared last night.
It wasn't until during filming
when they pulled back the curtain and...
- Noticed the deceased body under the workbench.
Yeah. Dinah Morgan.
She's the show's editor.
She called a meeting here last night
at which only four people were present,
three of the presenters and the producer, Fliss Forsyth.
- Can you and Button do a search for me?
Keep your eyes peeled for...
Something short of a button.
Perhaps a pair of gloves.
Meanwhile, let's start
with the last four people to see her alive.
Do you know what happened?
- We'd have a better idea if you hadn't moved the body.
You do realise that willfully disturbing a crime scene
is an offence?
- Not as offensive as presenting to the nation's children
with a corpse at our feet.
Morality versus pragmatism.
Quite a philosophical conundrum.
- Miss Morgan called the four of you here last night.
Why was that?
- Dinah made an addition to the shooting schedule.
It's not unusual.
So apart from some
highly unsuitable alcohol producing Nuns,
we have what exactly?
- Oh, a local farmer who found a Roman amphora
in a field of mangold wurzels.
- The children will be on the edge of their seats.
And you managed to miss the one thing of note in the vicinity.
Broadway Tower.
The highest man-made structure in the Cotswolds.
- Sounds as exciting as a geography school trip.
- The boys are going to do a stunt.
- A stunt? - Yes, Daniel.
A dangerous deed of derring-do.
You're going to abseil off the tower.
You lost me at dangerous.
I can do heights.
- Hardly the example we want to set to young girls.
It's perfectly safe. Tell him, Jono.
I'm sure you did it all the time in the army.
Yeah. Piece of cake.
- Jono's an ex-marine.
"Danny" spent 2 years national service, spud bashing duty.
We'll do a feature to announce it tomorrow.
Cut Sandy's dolls' house.
But that's my only segment.
- Well... help Danny with the pipe rack.
Children are bored of dolls.
Less make and bake, more derring-do.
Even if it does mean changes to the line-up.
♪♪
Dressing rooms. Chop-chop.
No going home till they're learnt.
Now turn those frowns upside down
and remember it's all about the children.
- These changes would have made you somewhat redundant?
Perhaps my ambitions extend
beyond playing housewife in front of a camera.
- Yeah, I heard there's a vacancy at the 9 O'clock News.
You never know.
And at least "I" won't be typecast
as a children's presenter.
Lip it.
They'll be thinking all sorts.
They are thinking all sorts.
They think one of us killed her.
That's absurd.
Surely someone must have broken in.
Perhaps she disturbed an intruder?
- That's what we're trying to ascertain.
What happened after the meeting?
- Dinah and I went to the production studio
to draw up a new schedule.
She left for home first.
She was driving back to London, so left around 9:30.
She'd left her handbag in the studio
and went back to fetch it.
Is that when it happened?
- That would fit with the rigor mortis.
And the rest of you?
We did as we were told.
Went back to our dressing rooms to learn our scripts.
Fliss called taxis at 10 o'clock and we went back to the hotel.
[ Squawks ] Cowardly custard.
Dead women tell. Cowardly custard.
Dead women tell no tales.
Can you get him out?
- I presume that isn't Police issue uniform, WPC Button?
It's my Jolly Roger badge.
I got it for collecting 8,000 milk bottle tops
for the African famine.
- Would it not have been more preferable
to send them the milk?
♪♪
It's a bit early in the day for an Irish coffee, no?
- You can't post milk with a second class stamp
and an envelope.
♪♪
Sarge.
Is this what we're looking for?
- We found empty whisky bottles in your dressing room.
- I like a drink. It's not a crime.
Thankfully not.
But presenting drunk to the nation's children
is a different matter.
I've never.
It's just...
It's just enough to take the edge off.
And for the most part, I can keep the beast at bay.
Only every so often, it pounces.
Call it a souvenir from Korea.
- Military? - Marines.
I was invalided out after a botched raid in Pyongyang.
- War has driven better men than me to drink.
In my experience, ex-soldiers
all find their own ways to forget.
You, uh, have a button missing.
- Well, that certainly isn't a crime.
Oh, I see.
You think I killed Dinah
cos she found out I was drinking?
- Well, the thought has crossed my mind.
- Trust me. If Dinah had found out, it wouldn't be a secret.
She'd have hauled me in irons in front of the whole crew
and forced me to walk the plank.
Ask anyone.
I certainly will.
♪♪
Dinah Morgan.
Editor of Britain's most popular children's TV show.
The building was surrounded by fences.
The security guard didn't see any intruders,
so that leaves us with four with known opportunity.
Danny Lemon. A club comedian and ventriloquist.
He shot to fame when he won New Talent.
Sandy Shanks.
She started her career as a circus trapeze act
then a dancer for the black and white Minstrels
before going into television presenting.
Dinah planned a re-jig at the show.
That made her job redundant.
Jono Hardy?
- Jono Hardy, ex-marine turned children's television presenter
and also the longest serving member of the cast.
- What shall we do with a drunken sailor?
♪ Hosepipes in the scuppers ♪
- [ Laughs ] Very good.
- Erm, Dinah ran a "tight" ship by all accounts.
Any news on the button?
- Negative, I'm afraid. They aren't a match.
- And finally, Fliss Forsyth, the show's producer.
- Ex-producer.
The boss gave her her marching orders yesterday.
Oh, right.
Reverend Mother is enquiring
if you will be gracing us with your presence for compline.
- Oh, right, yes, of course. Erm...
Are you sure about this?
- Just cos my ears are covered in a wimple
- don't mean I'm deaf. - "Hear hear!"
Thanks, Reg.
Don't mention it.
Move it or she'll be chewing up the pews.
- Could you do the honours? - Oh, oh, yes.
- Just pull the, erm... - Yeah, of course.
Right, no time. No time.
- Oh, oh...
♪♪
- I didn't think it was relevant. - Not relevant?
She sacked you a few hours before she was murdered.
- We'd had a bad day's filming, is all.
She didn't mean it.
It's television. Things get heated.
- Can you tell us what you argued about?
Professional differences.
I took over while Dinah was on Jury service for 3 months,
and she didn't approve of some of my changes.
Namely?
- Dinah's of a different generation.
The world's changed.
Children don't want to be like their parents
or to be lectured to by adults.
They want to do things their own way.
- Or your way now you're the one in charge.
Miss Forsyth?
What's up, Neil?
Pete's escaped.
♪♪
- What are you doing? - Oh!
The Sisters collected it for this year's appeal.
A log cabin for old aged pensioners
which Reverend Mother deemed worthy of...
Oh, I see. Yes, right.
Well, either by chance or divine intervention,
my arrival coincided with the discovery
of Poopdeck Pete's break for freedom.
Or rather, I suspect, this was no escape.
It was attempted parrotcide.
You must be joking.
Sniff.
Sodium hypochlorite mixed with acetic acid.
One that most definitely should not be tried at home.
No?
In laymen's terms, bleach and vinegar,
AKA homemade chlorine gas,
which Pete strenuously protested to,
judging by the blood and tissue on the calamus
which was obviously wrested with some force.
Poor chap, it seems, fled for his life.
Have you a theory as to why?
Recall as you will
his behaviour the day after the murder.
Dead women tell no tales.
- "Dead women tell no tales."
Parrots are gifted mimics.
I think Pete was recounting the final moments of Dinah Morgan.
[ Jail cell door clanking ]
♪♪
[ Parrot squawks ]
Take your time, Mr. Pete.
If you recognise the person you saw, you let me know.
[ Squawks ]
Sister!
Sister?
- Still. Some good news, at least.
- Our only eyewitness is an escaped parrot.
I fail to see how that could be filed under "good."
- Yes, well, when you put it like that...
- We did discover one thing, though.
Dinah Morgan had just returned from Jury service.
- For three months, so it wasn't a shoplifting case.
- Exactly. It's a long shot, but it's worth checking out.
[ Bell tolling in distance ]
Right. I must fly.
The sisters' moment of glory beckons.
[ Bell tolling ]
- The Nuns here all take the name of male saints.
And the Reverend Mother of St Vincent's namesake
has a rather interesting story involving a lion,
which Sister Reginald and Sister Peter have come
to tell us all about.
St Adrian of Nicomedia.
An officer in Imperial Rome who,
whilst watching the Christians being cruelly tortured to death,
was so struck by their fortitude
converted to Christianity on the spot.
An inspiring story.
- He was promptly arrested and sentenced to death
- by being thrown to a lion. - Ah.
- But, like Daniel in the lion's den,
the vicious beast refused to touch a hair on his head.
So a happy ending.
- Well, not likely. Being eaten by lions
would have been a blessing.
Instead, he was hacked to pieces with a sword
and thrown on the fire.
A glorious martyr's death.
If you say so.
- Of course, that was thousands of years ago,
and lucky for us, these things don't happen these days.
- Well, Sister? - Yo, ho, ho.
Avast, ye landlubbers.
Yes, well, that was
certainly very, erm... educational.
- Tomorrow, Danny and I will be attempting
Jolly Roger's first-ever stunt.
- I thought about joining the Teaching Order,
but the thought of all those kids was way too off-putting.
- Aye-aye.
- Make sure to tune in, and until then, it's goodbye
from our Summer studio in Great Slaughter.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye.
♪♪
Eye.
I wonder.
Excuse me. Duty calls.
♪♪
Bingo.
♪♪
- Hello? What time do you call this?
Who is this? Declare yourself!
This is a respectable establishment, not a night...
[ Dog barking in distance ]
♪♪
[ Telephones ringing, indistinct conversations ]
♪♪
Run camera.
Marker. Slate 32, take 2.
Action!
Lady Coventry wondered
whether a beacon from the top of this hill
could be seen from her house 22 miles away
and ordered the construction of this tower to find out,
over a thousand feet above sea level.
I'm getting a crick in my neck just looking up at it.
And cut.
Thank you, Sandy.
Rather them.
- It's just controlled falling using friction and a rope.
A child could do it.
♪♪
Could I have a word?
- Don't mind me. Just having a quick shufti.
- Don't tell me he's a murder suspect.
You have to be joking.
- Aye-aye.
Or rather just one eye.
Its companion was recovered from the body.
He's a puppet.
We aren't attached at the wrist.
The minute the cameras are turned off,
he goes in the prop box.
- Danny Lemon. It's a stage name, isn't it?
Your real name is Liam Quinn.
So what?
Quite a clan, the Quinns.
Liverpool's answer to the Krays.
Extortion, racketeering, money laundering.
They have a wide portfolio.
Had. A month ago,
your father and uncle were sentenced to 20 years.
Dinah Morgan was the foreman of the jury.
There's irony.
- You're honestly telling me you had no idea?
- The last time we spoke was on my 16th birthday,
I turned down a job with the family firm.
They didn't appreciate that I wanted to make people laugh
instead of weep.
- You're saying you've had no contact with them at all?
- If I'd shown my face, it'd be me they served up
as the fatted calf.
[ Chuckles ] Very good.
- And if I'd known Dinah had put them away,
I'd have shaken her hand.
The world owes her a favour
for locking up those bunch of psychos.
But feel free to arrest me.
Fancy my chances more in a nice, warm police cell than up there.
That won't be necessary.
- Though we will have to take Barnacle Bill "into custody."
Good riddance.
You think I like being a mouthpiece
to a piece of felt with a nasty streak?
Gives me the creeps. Rightly, it turns out.
"The hand puppet of death."
♪♪
Right.
♪♪
You coming, Sister?
- Actually, I thought I might stay and watch the fun.
♪♪
Quiet, please. Thank you.
Run camera.
Action.
- We'll be falling approximately 60 feet in 25 seconds.
- And it will feel like 25 minutes!
And here we go. Anchors away.
Bloody fiasco!
I thought you said the equipment was safety-checked!
- It was! - By who? The factory cat?!
You do realise I was 10 seconds away from certain death.
- I know, and I'm sorry. And I promise you,
next time, everything will be triple-checked.
There will not be a next time.
Speak to my agent!
[ Indistinct conversations ]
♪♪
- Something to share, Constable Button?
♪♪
Bravo, Peggy.
It appears your suspicions are correct.
[ Babbling indistinctly ]
Is anyone hurt?
[ Babbling indistinctly ]
WPC Button, erm,
a plane has just gone down in the village.
We need to alert the fire brigade
and the ambulance right away.
- That's not a plane. That's Poopdeck Pete.
[ Grumbling indistinctly ]
- Okay, thanks, love. That's good news.
Good news? My favourite type.
- Yeah, I've foun' a para'! - Excellent.
- The bad news is he's at the Cavalier Oak.
- Ah. That's the large oak tree next to the village hall?
- Great Slaughter constabulary? - It must be 100 feet high.
Sister Boniface, sir.
- Oh. Hallo? - No.
- Hello? - Yes, could you come over?
I think I've found something.
Okay. I'll be right there.
I'm needed at the lab.
But I assume I can leave you three
on operation capture the parrot?
No problem, sir.
Good man, Button.
"No problem, sir."
- Wel', com' on th'n! Warra' get away flyin' away...
[ Babbles indistinctly ]
♪♪
What have you got?
Fact.
This was filed to a sharp edge on the inside.
Invisib... No!
- Sorry. - Invisible to the naked eye
but, when gravity is exerted, would slice through the rope.
This was sabotage,
and by someone who knew their way around a safety harness,
according to WPC Button.
- Like an ex-trapeze artist, Sandy Shanks?
But the exciting news is...
I think we have our motive for murder.
- Drum roll, please. - Oh.
- Iron filing samples from the carabiner
match those found on the victim's shoes.
Deduction. Dinah caught the killer in the act of sabotage,
and they killed her.
Top job, Sister.
The question is, was it an attempt on Jono Hardy's life
or, eeny meeny minie mo,
random sabotage, and he drew the short straw?
- Yes, that has rather obfuscated things.
- Right. It's one step forward and three paces back.
- Then let's pray that Poopdeck Pete comes up trumps.
♪♪
[ Squawking ]
They're having a laugh.
- It'll be great. The children will love it.
- Are you sure about this? - Oh, yes, Sarge.
Winner of the talent show five years in a row.
- Make way! Make way. Let her through!
Interview her now.
- And has an impressive track record in escaped budgies.
Can I grab a word?
Not now, thank you.
The artiste needs quiet.
Deep breaths, now, Dottie.
Red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather.
Red leather, yellow feather...
red weather, yellow sun.
Primed and ready.
- "I wandered lonely as a cloud..."
Bird song, Dottie.
Green-winged macaw.
We might as well pack up now.
[ Squawking ]
That's very odd.
That was the mating call of a Scarlet macaw,
and they always respond.
- Green-winged macaw, Dottie.
Well, why didn't you say so?
That would explain it.
[ Squawking ]
♪♪
[ Cheers and applause ]
Did you get it?
Sandy, can we pick up?
♪♪
- That was quite extraordinary, wasn't it, children?
Welcome home, Pete. It's good to have you back.
- I'm afraid this parrot is being seized as evidence.
- [ Whistles ] Cowardly custard.
Excellent work.
- We can hardly force a statement out of him.
- Perhaps, perhaps he needs reminding
- of his previous statement. - Mm.
"Dead women tell no tales.
Cowardly custard."
- [ Squawks ] Dead women.
Dead women tell no tales.
Cowardly Custard. No room.
Jump, walk, jump, walk.
Dead women tell no tales.
Aghghghghghg.
What was that?
Aghghghghghg.
- I fear those were the last moments
of Dinah Morgan.
Just a shame it's meaningless.
- I suppose it would have been a bit optimistic
to expect him to name the killer.
A complete waste of time, in other words.
- Au contraire. Pete may be a disappointing witness
but is living evidence.
During the fight with his attacker,
there will have been an exchange.
Although it looks like any examination will have to wait.
[ Snoring ]
♪♪
I've spoke to the Controller.
We're to finish up the road show,
and then they're going to "take a view."
Sounds ominous.
- They weren't best pleased with our wine making Nuns.
We could do a feature.
"Today we'll see what happened when Poopdeck Pete
and Barnacle Bill got taken into Police custody."
This isn't funny.
We have no choice but to go ahead with the stunt.
- Did you talk to my agent? - Yes.
And you are contractually obliged.
I've hired a safety advisor.
The equipment's been checked and double-checked,
so nothing will go wrong this time.
Are you in?
♪♪
Avast, Pete.
You and I are going to be the best of chums.
♪♪
Friendly Pete.
Friendly, affable Pete.
♪♪
[ Birds chirping ]
All right, our kid?
You're looking a bit green 'round the gills.
I'm fine.
- If I didn't know better, I'd think you were yeller.
- Shut up, Lemo...
[ Vomiting ]
Sister.
♪♪
Behold the spoils of victory.
If you are the victor,
I would hate to think what you'd look like as the loser.
- Yes, well, Pete and I got off to a rocky start,
- but, erm... - [ Whistling ]
- we're the best of friends now, aren't we, Pete?
- Who's a good boy? Rapscallion.
Scabby sea bass.
- Send him up whisky beaten. - Shh.
Cleaver her to the brisket!
- Yes, well, Locard's principle prevailed.
Human hair, wrapped 'round his claw.
Dyed. But judging by the colour
and length of the hair closer to the root,
I'd say we've found our murderer.
Although, erm...
Although?
It makes absolutely no sense.
♪♪
- This isn't a good time. Can you not see that I'm ill?
- Yes, well, I suppose that would be predictable
under the circumstances.
You might want to check the pockets.
What are you doing?
- The effect would have been instantaneous
so must have been ingested
shortly before the symptoms presented.
My guess would be some sort of carapichea ipecacuanha compound,
more commonly known as Ipecac.
John Hardy, I'm arresting you
on suspicion of the murder of Dinah Morgan.
You are not obliged to say anything,
but anything you do say may be put into writing
and given in evidence.
You had no intention of doing this stunt.
We found iron filings on the victim's shoe
that matched your carabiner.
I think Dinah caught you in the act of sabotaging it,
- and you killed her. - Preposterous.
- You hoped a near-fatal accident would stop the stunt.
And when that failed, you took an emetic to fake illness.
Anything to avoid jumping off that tower.
[ Scoffs ] This is fantasy.
You haven't got a shred of proof.
We have a witness.
Poopdeck Pete.
- Whom you tried to dispatch with homemade chlorine gas.
But Pete fought back. It was quite a tussle.
We found hairs wrapped around his claw dyed with Grecian 2000.
That is the hair colouring you use?
It's really very effective.
Is this a joke?
- Oh, think of it as a compliment.
One would never guess you'd gone prematurely grey.
- I meant you're not seriously going to charge me with murder
based on the testimony of a parrot?
- He was surprisingly illuminating.
Sergeant, will you do the honours?
- Cowardly custard, no room, jump walk,
dead women tell no tales.
It's a shred of gobbledygook.
- Actually, it makes perfect sense.
I spoke to Colonel Prentice, your ex-CO.
He told me about the accident
and the real reason for your medical discharge.
It was not an accident!
It wasn't an accident.
We were short on equipment, and a belay snapped.
Three of my men...
my friends, fell 500 feet to their deaths.
And the only reason I didn't join them was cos
I was at the top of the rope and managed to cut it in time.
I was left dangling on that rock face for two days
before they got a chopper out to rescue me.
- After which you suffered a nervous breakdown
and spent nine months in a military psychiatric hospital
before you were medically discharged.
- They were "decent" enough to leave it off my permanent record
because career prospects for an ex-soldier
with shell shock are limited.
- They left another thing off your record...
The reason why you couldn't continue your career
in the marines.
A morbid fear of heights.
I tried to tell her.
I tried.
She just... wouldn't listen.
I told her everything,
why I couldn't do it, and do you know what she said?
♪♪
Oh, for goodness sake.
Who's there?
♪♪
What are you doing?
♪♪
I can explain.
- I think I can see what's in front of my own eyes.
[ Parrot whistles ] What on earth are you thinking?
This stunt is madness.
We have to stop before someone gets killed.
- Fiddlesticks. - I know what I'm talking about!
- Dear boy, the only reason I hired you
was to play action man.
- Yeah, driving tanks and racing cars.
Not this!
It's your choice.
Jump or walk the plank.
Unless you want everyone to think of you
as a cowardly custard.
[ Squawks ] Cowardly custard.
Cowardly custard.
[ Squawking ]
Cowardly custard.
[ Laughing ]
Cowardly.
Cowardly custard. Cowardly.
Aah!
- [ Squawks ] Uh-oh. Uh-oh.
Cowardly custard.
Uh-oh. No. Uh-oh. No.
[ Screaming ]
[ Object thudding ]
Dead women tell no tales.
♪♪
It was me.
But it... it wasn't me.
I can't explain it. It was like I was watching somebody else.
And when I came to, she was dead.
I've killed countless people.
But this is the first one
I actually deserve to be punished for,
so you might as well get it over with.
- Sometimes the worst battle scars
are the ones that are invisible.
I'm obliged to charge you.
However...
I'll be recommending
that you have a full psychiatric evaluation.
♪♪
- So, that's all the safety checks performed,
which means it's time to...
Okay, then.
Wish me luck.
- Cut camera. - Sorry.
It's okay, Danny.
It's okay, Danny. It's okay.
- I'm sorry. I...
♪♪
- And now I'm abseiling down Broadway Tower.
Whoo-hoo!
We're back on in 10.9...
Thank you, sir.
She's completely fearless. Up for anything.
Said she'll scale Nelson's column without a harness.
- And if that wasn't exciting enough,
later, you'll see how Poopdeck Pete was rescued
by a local bird ventriloquist.
- But before we leave Great Slaughter,
Sister Boniface has agreed to come here
and show you how stink bombs are made.
Hello.
I'm Sister Boniface.
Today, I'm going to make stink bombs
with the help of my trusty assistant, Sister Peter.
Sister Peter?
- Sister? - Hello.
- And here are the ingredients we'll be using.
- It's going awfully well, isn't it?
- Now all that remains is to add ammonium sulphide
which will react with moisture, hydrolyzes,
and a mixture of hydrogen sulphide to release ammonia.
If Sister Peter could do the honours.
No! Not that one, Sister!
That isn't ammonium sulphide!
♪♪
Oh, dear.
♪♪
And remember, children.
- Don't try this at home. - Don't try this at home.
♪♪
[ Parrot squawks ]
♪♪