Grandpa's Great Escape

Apologies, Herr Hitler. Your bombers won't get through tonight.

Taka-taka-taka-taka-taka-taka.

Tooka-tooka-tooka-tooka-tooka-tooka-too.

One down. 17 to go.

Dad?

Oh, Dad, where are you?

Dad?

Oh, no.

There's my grandpa. But he wasn't always this confused.

Take this, Jerry! Taka-taka-taka-taka...

He was once the Royal Air Force's bravest Spitfire pilot.

That was during World War II

but our story takes place 40 years later, in the 1980s.

I wasn't like the other kids at school,

I didn't want a Rubik's Cube or a mullet.

I was happiest with my World War II model planes from Grandpa's stories.

The best day of the week was always Saturday --

that was the day that me and my sister Shelley would see Grandpa.

If we were really lucky, he would take us to the war museum.

It was him or me -- I press on my machineguns.

The air was filled with bullets, smoke, fire, I'd hit my first

Messerschmitt, the Luftwaffe pilot who parachuted down, I let him be.

Then it was back to base and Grandpa would take us

on a top-secret mission.

Right, off we go, canopy secure?

- Check. - Fuel gauge on full?

- Check. - Up, up and away!

Up, up and away!

It was the happiest of times. Up, up and away!

But times changed.

Grandpa became more forgetful.

He'd forget he'd made a cup of tea...

.. and make another one.

So I tried to help.

Every week, I got his shopping.

Waiter, this is corked.

In spite of his medication, Grandpa wasn't getting any better.

In fact, he was getting worse.

Morning, Grandpa, time for your doctor's appointment.

We'll just wait for Peggy.

My dear wife Peggy, just getting ready.

She won't be a minute.

Peggy's not here, Grandpa.

She died during the war.

Did she?

My darling Peggy.

It's OK, Grandpa, I'll look after you.

I wish I could say my family helped with Grandpa,

but they had their own things going on.

This is my sister, she got older and was only interested in Duran Duran.

Marry me, Simon Le Bon.

Mum was a high roller in the beauty business.

Avon calling!

Dad worked for the council.

He always claimed he was head of road maintenance

but Mum said he was in charge of traffic cones.

It certainly was his favourite topic of conversation.

So guess where traffic cones were first used in the UK.

Nobody cares, Barry.

No, the correct answer is the M6.

Occasionally, it was like it used to be.

How fast is that Spitfire going, Grandpa?

Top speed 360 miles an hour, near enough.

I'd give anything... anything to fly one again.

The funny thing was, Grandpa wasn't confused

when he talked about the war and that gave me an idea.

Good morning, Wing Commander.

Squadron Leader.

The medical officer wants to know if you've had your energy pills today?

Righty-ho, down the hatch.

I'd just pretend the war was still on.

Anything further from air command?

They want us to keep physically fit for the coming battle.

- Kick about in the park? - Good call.

Which was fine -- when it was just Grandpa and me.

But harder with all the family.

Now, the story behind making traffic cones orange is a fascinating one.

- This tea's off. - That's gravy, Dad.

Dad? You're not my son, my son's a little, little baby.

Whatever next?

He's got worse, much worse. He'd be best off in a...

He is in a home, Mum. HIS home and he's happy there.

He's drinking from the gravy boat, Jack, the gravy boat!

- Wing Commander? - Squadron Leader?

You're in the mess hall and the charlady...

- I beg your pardon? - .. has just served up your rations.

Oh, oh, I see, jolly good.

I don't know if you should be pretending it's the war, Jack.

What if he attacks that nice German lady who works in Bejam's?

This food is diabolical.

Then we can have the charlady taken out and shot!

I'm trying to help.

So we tried to play along and that worked out for a while

until one night,

Dad found Grandpa sitting on the church roof.

Love? He's on the church roof this time.

I don't know how he got up there.

There's only one person who can get him down.

You are joking? This is a saga now.

We need Jack, you know how close he is to his grandpa.

It's too late.

Jack's got a geography test tomorrow

and I've got a ton of make-up to shift.

Or do you want a garage full of unsold Bucks Fizz eyeshadow?

I'm going to help Grandpa, Mum, it's up to you if you come or not.

Well, let me get this off first.

Come on, Mum!

What time do you call this?

Mum, stop ruining everything for me.

We will have words later, young lady.

Are you Shelley's sister?

No, silly, I'm her mum but I know, I look young for my age.

And you must be...?

Dazza, but I do often get mistaken for Simon Le Bon.

Oh, yeah, I bet you do.

Mum?

I want you in bed in one minute.

Goodnight, Mrs Shelley's mum.

I can see you.

He's gone completely cuckoo.

Oh, Jack, help him, please.

What in St Peter's name is going on here?

Get down off my roof, you vandal!

Think you're a good shot, hey? We'll see about that!

My father gets a little confused sometimes.

Confused? He's certifiable. What if he falls off?

I don't want to spend me morning scooping him up.

You want us to fetch the air rifle, Reverend?

- Yeah, yeah, yeah. - Yeah, that'll bring him down.

- That worked for the pigeons, didn't it? - No, please, just wait.

Wing Commander, this is base, over.

What? this is Wing Commander, reading you loud and clear.

Your mission has been a great success, return to base.

Roger that!

Oh, hang on, hang on, he's going to fall...

Oh. Well, I never.

Fall out, men.

Wing Commander, let me escort you to your transport,

there's drinks in the officers' mess.

Yeah, just the job, Squadron Leader.

Oh, no, oh, no.

No, no, I'm fine. Shouldn't have eaten that pickled egg.

Poor soul.

I do bring a lot of comfort to the old and the infirm of the parish.

I'd love to help, if I could.

We just want what's best for us, I mean -- him.

Yeah, I mean, there is the most wonderful care home nearby,

Twilight Towers.

I don't think he'd like that.

Oh, no -- it's heavenly, it's like Disneyland for coffin dodgers.

Grandpa's not going in a home.

Yeah, trouble is, it's very often very, very full.

What a shame.

But then, I have a very good relationship with Miss Dandy,

what runs Twilight Towers, she just might be able to squeeze him in.

- Perfect. - No!

No, we need to discuss this as a family first.

Might be too late but, yeah, of course.

Oh, yeah, why don't you take with you this, er, colour

brochure of Twilight Towers and this is for you, boy.

They say it's a little... gonk.

It's got googly eyes...

.. just like your grandad.

That's lovely. Goodnight.

Oh, goodnight, God bless you, God bless you, obviously.

It looks lovely,

it's more like a hotel than somewhere you get put to die.

Charlady, this is the worst roast beef I have ever tasted.

It's not roast beef,

it's fish pie, and for the last time, I'm not your charlady.

Your son has something to tell you.

We had a new order of traffic cones in, they're reflective.

Barry!

You know we all love you very much?

But the thing is, it...

Spit it out, airman, choppity-chop.

After what happened last week, we thought it might be best if...

- If you came here to live with us. - You what?

He could share my bedroom.

- Well, we can't cope with him here. - Well, it's not a bad idea.

Er, he'd better not hog the bathroom,

- it takes me ages to crimp my hair in the mornings. - I'm sorry, but...

I accept, though the catering had better improve.

I'll tell the charlady.

Where am I going, again?

Our house, Dad. You're coming to live with us.

On a trial basis.

Yeah, I live here, Peggy won't know where I've got to.

Son?

Wing Commander...

.. due to enemy activity, the air commander wants you to

lodge at alternative quarters.

Why didn't they just say?

Charity shop, sale, rubbish, rubbish, rubbish, rub...

This is not rubbish.

Wing Commander? Let me take you to the tuck shop.

Oh, jolly good.

Ah-ha, my two favourite customers, Mr Bumting and Master Bumting.

It's Bunting.

Bumting, like I said.