Cabin Pressure fic: Herm
It's innie_darling's birthday, and I really wanted to write her something, so, as one does, I decided over breakfast to listen to an episode of a radio play/comedy (staring Benedict Cumberbatch, so no hardship there), read the Wikipedia page and a couple of transcripts and then write something with that as my sole knowledge of the fandom. Unbetaed, so if anyone other than innie_darling actually knows something about the fandom and wants to beta quickly for me, please do!
More details about the series, and a wonderfully witty story here.
Herm [Cabin Pressure, Martin, Douglas, Carolyn, Arthur, G, 1,107 words. Happy birthday, innie_darling - I hope this brightens your day a little! And I hope the characters aren't horribly out of character!]
MARTIN: I'm a little troubled by these calculations. And by a little troubled, I mean extremely concerned - I just can't help the British understatement.
DOUGLAS: Why? They're perfectly solid sums. Reliable reckonings. Certain calculations. Trustworthy-things. In case you didn't realise, those are all synonyms. For emphasis. Okay, not synonyms for emphasis, but synonyms for emphasis.
MARTIN: Yes, but-
DOUGLAS: But nothing.
MARTIN: Well, that's it, exactly. Nothing.
DOUGLAS: There you are then. Why on earth would you be worrying about nothing.
MARTIN: Because nothing isn't a good thing when it's the fuel we're talking about.
DOUGLAS: Pshaw.
MARTIN: Did you just pshaw me?
DOUGLAS: Pfft.
MARTIN: You can pshaw and pfft me all you like, but I'm still troubled by the apparent fact that we have no fuel. And we're flying over the ocean.
DOUGLAS: The sea.
MARTIN: That's what I just said.
DOUGLAS: No, you said the ocean. But it's just the English channel. That's not like the wide open ocean. It's a mere channel, a little bit of sea between two lands that are so close they almost touch.
MARTIN: It's still very wet and deep, and not good for landing in. And since when were England and France close? England and France have never been close.
DOUGLAS: Details, Martin, details. And speaking of details, why would we be landing in the sea?
MARTIN: Because we've not got any fuel left.
DOUGLAS: Ah, in that case, we might be in a spot of trouble.
CAROLYN: That was not a good landing. In fact that was a heinous landing. In your entire flying career, that has to be the worst landing you have ever made.
MARTIN: In my defence-
CAROLYN: Shut up, Martin. Why does our landing site look suspiciously like a beach?
MARTIN: (coughs)
DOUGLAS: It is a particularly beautiful beach, don't you agree? White sand, blue sea, what more could you ask for?
CAROLYN: Paris. That's what I could ask for. And do you know why it's actually perfectly reasonable for me to ask for Paris? Because that was our destination. We have a flight plan laid in for Paris. Our cargo is bound for Paris. I have a reservation at Le Pre Catelan this evening.
ARTHUR: Ooh, is that the restaurant that serves those creamy things I like.
DOUGLAS: Crème brûlées?
ARTHUR: No, potatoey things.
MARTIN: Potatoes au gratin?
ARTHUR: No, Skip. It didn't have a French name. Oh, I remember! Mashed potato.
CAROLYN: Yes, I made a reservation at a three star French restaurant because I wanted their mashed potato.
ARTHUR: Ooh, goodie.
CAROLYN: Sarcasm is so wasted on you. But in the hopes that it isn't wasted on my pilot and co-pilot, I will just say this. This is a truly beautiful beach. One of the most beautiful beaches I have ever set foot on, but I do not care because it is not Paris.
MARTIN: I don't think that was sarcasm.
CAROLYN: Very observant of you, Martin.
MARTIN: But that was.
CAROLYN: Yes, indeed.
ARTHUR: We're not going to have mashed potato for dinner, are we.
DOUGLAS, MARTIN & CAROLYN: No, Arthur.
DOUGLAS: I wonder how many days it will be before we resort to cannibalism?
MARTIN: We're not on a desert island, Douglas. We're in the Channel Islands. Admittedly one of the smaller islands that doesn't even have a single car, but still, not a desert island.
DOUGLAS: I know. It just seemed like a fun game to play.
ARTHUR: A game? A new one?
DOUGLAS: Yes.
ARTHUR: What's the game?
DOUGLAS: Who do we eat first?
ARTHUR: Oh. ... I'd rather have an ice-cream.
CAROLYN: Do you know how much it is going to cost to get fuel here?
DOUGLAS: Ah, yet another new game. Excellent. I shall start with £800.
CAROLYN: No, you imbecile. Not a game. Though I am, oddly enough, not as upset about the cost as I might be. Do you know why that is?
DOUGLAS: I could hazard a guess.
MARTIN: Because we're paying. (sighs)
CAROLYN: And Martin wins! (she applauds)
ARTHUR: I thought you said it wasn't a game. I didn't even get my turn.
MARTIN: So, the ferry will arrive with the fuel in one hour and ten minutes. Along with six donkeys to carry the fuel across the island.
DOUGLAS: When you say donkeys, do you mean idiots who have been paid ridiculously small amounts of money to haul heavy fuel, or actual four-legged animals?
MARTIN: Actual four-legged animals.
DOUGLAS: For a moment there, I thought you were being incredibly politically incorrect. I almost had hopes for you.
MARTIN: I would never-
DOUGLAS: (interrupts, sadly) I know.
MARTIN: In the meantime, we could do something.
DOUGLAS: Skinny dipping.
MARTIN: No!
DOUGLAS: That's what one normally does when stranded on a desert island with a beautiful young native girl.
MARTIN: We're not on a desert island. We're on Herm. And the only woman is Carolyn.
DOUGLAS & MARTIN: (choking sounds)
DOUGLAS: No skinny dipping!
MARTIN: Definitely no skinny dipping. ... We could sing campfire songs, though.
DOUGLAS: I am not singing Kum Ba Yah.
MARTIN: (sings) Kookaburra sits in an old gum tree.
DOUGLAS: Urgh.
ARTHUR: I found an ice-cream kiosk at the next bay. It was just closing, but I persuaded the owner to sell me ice-cream.
CAROLYN: I would never have guessed that from the trickles of raspberry ripple down your shirt. And the smudge of chocolate flake on your chin.
ARTHUR: (wipes chin awkwardly with one hand) Ah, yes, I was trying to bring ice-creams back for everyone, but they melted.
CAROLYN: Ice-cream does that.
ARTHUR: I do have cones though. (he hands over one of three soggy ice-cream cones he's carrying)
CAROLYN: Ah, now, suddenly, I no longer regret my missed reservation at Le Pre Catelan.
MARTIN: Are we actually allowed to light fires on Herm?
DOUGLAS: I think it's a little late to be questioning that now. Besides, they'll double up as take-off lights. Here, have another cockle-on-a-stick and enjoy the sunset.
MARTIN: (eats the cockle) It is a beautiful sunset.
DOUGLAS: (sings) The stars are gonna twinkle and shine, This evening about a quarter to nine.
MARTIN: (joins in singing) My lovin' arms are gonna tenderly twine, Around you around a quarter to nine.
DOUGLAS: ...
MARTIN: (coughs)
DOUGLAS: (also coughs)
MARTIN: (hurriedly) I should be doing pre-flight checks. Very important, those. Yes. That was drilled into us during flight training.
DOUGLAS: (sotto voce) Shame you didn't learn how to do sums.
MARTIN: But you did the calculations!
DOUGLAS: Ah, yes. There is that. (eats a cockle-on-a-stick) Ah, well, anyone can misplace a zero.
//
More details about the series, and a wonderfully witty story here.
Herm [Cabin Pressure, Martin, Douglas, Carolyn, Arthur, G, 1,107 words. Happy birthday, innie_darling - I hope this brightens your day a little! And I hope the characters aren't horribly out of character!]
MARTIN: I'm a little troubled by these calculations. And by a little troubled, I mean extremely concerned - I just can't help the British understatement.
DOUGLAS: Why? They're perfectly solid sums. Reliable reckonings. Certain calculations. Trustworthy-things. In case you didn't realise, those are all synonyms. For emphasis. Okay, not synonyms for emphasis, but synonyms for emphasis.
MARTIN: Yes, but-
DOUGLAS: But nothing.
MARTIN: Well, that's it, exactly. Nothing.
DOUGLAS: There you are then. Why on earth would you be worrying about nothing.
MARTIN: Because nothing isn't a good thing when it's the fuel we're talking about.
DOUGLAS: Pshaw.
MARTIN: Did you just pshaw me?
DOUGLAS: Pfft.
MARTIN: You can pshaw and pfft me all you like, but I'm still troubled by the apparent fact that we have no fuel. And we're flying over the ocean.
DOUGLAS: The sea.
MARTIN: That's what I just said.
DOUGLAS: No, you said the ocean. But it's just the English channel. That's not like the wide open ocean. It's a mere channel, a little bit of sea between two lands that are so close they almost touch.
MARTIN: It's still very wet and deep, and not good for landing in. And since when were England and France close? England and France have never been close.
DOUGLAS: Details, Martin, details. And speaking of details, why would we be landing in the sea?
MARTIN: Because we've not got any fuel left.
DOUGLAS: Ah, in that case, we might be in a spot of trouble.
CAROLYN: That was not a good landing. In fact that was a heinous landing. In your entire flying career, that has to be the worst landing you have ever made.
MARTIN: In my defence-
CAROLYN: Shut up, Martin. Why does our landing site look suspiciously like a beach?
MARTIN: (coughs)
DOUGLAS: It is a particularly beautiful beach, don't you agree? White sand, blue sea, what more could you ask for?
CAROLYN: Paris. That's what I could ask for. And do you know why it's actually perfectly reasonable for me to ask for Paris? Because that was our destination. We have a flight plan laid in for Paris. Our cargo is bound for Paris. I have a reservation at Le Pre Catelan this evening.
ARTHUR: Ooh, is that the restaurant that serves those creamy things I like.
DOUGLAS: Crème brûlées?
ARTHUR: No, potatoey things.
MARTIN: Potatoes au gratin?
ARTHUR: No, Skip. It didn't have a French name. Oh, I remember! Mashed potato.
CAROLYN: Yes, I made a reservation at a three star French restaurant because I wanted their mashed potato.
ARTHUR: Ooh, goodie.
CAROLYN: Sarcasm is so wasted on you. But in the hopes that it isn't wasted on my pilot and co-pilot, I will just say this. This is a truly beautiful beach. One of the most beautiful beaches I have ever set foot on, but I do not care because it is not Paris.
MARTIN: I don't think that was sarcasm.
CAROLYN: Very observant of you, Martin.
MARTIN: But that was.
CAROLYN: Yes, indeed.
ARTHUR: We're not going to have mashed potato for dinner, are we.
DOUGLAS, MARTIN & CAROLYN: No, Arthur.
DOUGLAS: I wonder how many days it will be before we resort to cannibalism?
MARTIN: We're not on a desert island, Douglas. We're in the Channel Islands. Admittedly one of the smaller islands that doesn't even have a single car, but still, not a desert island.
DOUGLAS: I know. It just seemed like a fun game to play.
ARTHUR: A game? A new one?
DOUGLAS: Yes.
ARTHUR: What's the game?
DOUGLAS: Who do we eat first?
ARTHUR: Oh. ... I'd rather have an ice-cream.
CAROLYN: Do you know how much it is going to cost to get fuel here?
DOUGLAS: Ah, yet another new game. Excellent. I shall start with £800.
CAROLYN: No, you imbecile. Not a game. Though I am, oddly enough, not as upset about the cost as I might be. Do you know why that is?
DOUGLAS: I could hazard a guess.
MARTIN: Because we're paying. (sighs)
CAROLYN: And Martin wins! (she applauds)
ARTHUR: I thought you said it wasn't a game. I didn't even get my turn.
MARTIN: So, the ferry will arrive with the fuel in one hour and ten minutes. Along with six donkeys to carry the fuel across the island.
DOUGLAS: When you say donkeys, do you mean idiots who have been paid ridiculously small amounts of money to haul heavy fuel, or actual four-legged animals?
MARTIN: Actual four-legged animals.
DOUGLAS: For a moment there, I thought you were being incredibly politically incorrect. I almost had hopes for you.
MARTIN: I would never-
DOUGLAS: (interrupts, sadly) I know.
MARTIN: In the meantime, we could do something.
DOUGLAS: Skinny dipping.
MARTIN: No!
DOUGLAS: That's what one normally does when stranded on a desert island with a beautiful young native girl.
MARTIN: We're not on a desert island. We're on Herm. And the only woman is Carolyn.
DOUGLAS & MARTIN: (choking sounds)
DOUGLAS: No skinny dipping!
MARTIN: Definitely no skinny dipping. ... We could sing campfire songs, though.
DOUGLAS: I am not singing Kum Ba Yah.
MARTIN: (sings) Kookaburra sits in an old gum tree.
DOUGLAS: Urgh.
ARTHUR: I found an ice-cream kiosk at the next bay. It was just closing, but I persuaded the owner to sell me ice-cream.
CAROLYN: I would never have guessed that from the trickles of raspberry ripple down your shirt. And the smudge of chocolate flake on your chin.
ARTHUR: (wipes chin awkwardly with one hand) Ah, yes, I was trying to bring ice-creams back for everyone, but they melted.
CAROLYN: Ice-cream does that.
ARTHUR: I do have cones though. (he hands over one of three soggy ice-cream cones he's carrying)
CAROLYN: Ah, now, suddenly, I no longer regret my missed reservation at Le Pre Catelan.
MARTIN: Are we actually allowed to light fires on Herm?
DOUGLAS: I think it's a little late to be questioning that now. Besides, they'll double up as take-off lights. Here, have another cockle-on-a-stick and enjoy the sunset.
MARTIN: (eats the cockle) It is a beautiful sunset.
DOUGLAS: (sings) The stars are gonna twinkle and shine, This evening about a quarter to nine.
MARTIN: (joins in singing) My lovin' arms are gonna tenderly twine, Around you around a quarter to nine.
DOUGLAS: ...
MARTIN: (coughs)
DOUGLAS: (also coughs)
MARTIN: (hurriedly) I should be doing pre-flight checks. Very important, those. Yes. That was drilled into us during flight training.
DOUGLAS: (sotto voce) Shame you didn't learn how to do sums.
MARTIN: But you did the calculations!
DOUGLAS: Ah, yes. There is that. (eats a cockle-on-a-stick) Ah, well, anyone can misplace a zero.
//