The Goes Wrong Show

Welcome back to Play Of The Week,

where each week, a new play is performed live in front of

a studio audience here in Cornley and broadcast to the nation.

I am Chris Bean, the director.

This episode is a World War II spy thriller, a play not often performed

due to what critics called "offensive historical inaccuracies,"

caused by the author's "lazy research".

I am delighted to say we will be joined by a special guest star

this evening. My father, Raymond Bean,

has taken the time out of his busy schedule of writing letters

of complaint to The Guardian to play the part of Randolph Wycombe.

He is currently running late, but one of our other actors

has stepped in for the meantime, and we will proceed.

This episode is The Pilot.

Er, it's not the pilot episode, it's an episode about a pilot.

So I suppose it is technically a pilot episode,

though it is not THE pilot episode,

although it is called The Pilot.

So, now everything's clear.

The actors are prepared, the stage is set.

Please enjoy The Pilot.

Not the pilot.

Seven.

Four.

Nine.

Test.

Nothing yet, Lieutenant.

Six damn months, Val,

six months working with the most advanced technology available

to man, and we're no closer to cracking the German code.

Ah! Are you all right?

It's my leg again.

Damned embarrassing getting shot down in my first flight.

And look what I've got to show for it.

You mustn't worry, Rufus.

I don't care one jot about appearances.

My old kite Dorothy's sat out there on the runway, gathering dust.

I'm stuck here, unable to even walk.

You really ought to take some leave, Lieutenant. I do worry about you.

You do?

Ah, Miss Leclaire.

Bonjour, cheri.

Any luck with the latest transmission?

Et, erm, bibliotheque.

All right.

Beep!

Incoming telegram.

Vim-va-va-vim-vim-vim-vim!

It's from Commander Wycombe.

Did you get it? Yes, yes!

He's going to call you directly, Corporal,

he says he wants some answers.

We will crack this code. We just need some more time.

We must steel ourselves.

It is as Monsieur Napoleon said.

La mort n'est rien,

mais...vivre...

vaincu et...

et voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

I'm sorry, I've let you all down.

I'm not a code breaker any more than I am a pilot.

I'm heading upstairs to my quarters.

Oh, God!

Rest up.

I just need a moment to clear my head.

Ah, Valerie, he is an handsome man, non?

There's no time for fraternising at Caraway House, Miss Leclaire.

You must put any personal feelings you have aside.

Then so must you!

I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.

Now, there's a war to be won.

Look at Adolf Hitler!

Do you know what he has done?

He has moved his troops...

through the Ardennes,

and right into the heart of France.

And he'll get further than that, if the rumours of the mole are true.

Camille, I won't tell you again.

There is no mole.

The Germans could never infiltrate Caraway House.

I hope you are right, Valerie, for all our sakes.

This is Corporal Sky.

Sky, this is Commander Wycombe.

It's been too long, sweetheart.

Sir.

Now, you've been working on this code for months,

and still no success.

Well, these things take time, sir.

Time is the one damn thing we don't have, Sky.

I'll be with you at zero seven hundred hours,

and I expect to be furnished with some good reason

as to why I shouldn't close Caraway House. Is that clear?

Yes, sir.

Now, take down my aircraft security clearance.

Alpha, Charlie, one, nine, two, nine...

Thank you.

Alpha, Charlie, one, nine, two, nine, foxtrot.

Have you got that down? Yes, sir.

Send me through your coordinates.

Mm-hm. By telegram!

Over and out.

Goodbye, sir.

Hello.

Goodbye.

Who was that? Wycombe. He's flying over.

He'll be here soon.

Why must headquarters always interfere?

I'm sending through our coordinates.

He threatened to close Ca...

Buzz.

He threatened to close Caraway House.

You and Wycombe, you have a history, non?

Perhaps you can persuade him to give us more time.

I don't like what you're suggesting, Miss Leclaire.

Would you want him to close us down?

He won't shut us down. I have an idea. What?

Where's that transcribed message from this morning? Here.

This message ends with two words - four characters, then...

Four characters... Stop it!

Four c...

Four characters, then six,

as did the transcribed message from the 11th.

If we assume these two words are the same, then bang...

Oh!

We have our key.

We just need to know what the German radio ops signed off with.

What would any German radio operator sign off with?

Heil Hitler!

That's it, Val!

I'll plug that into the machine.

This is brilliant!

You are brilliant, Lieutenant.

Let's get to work.

Anything yet, Lieutenant?

Still processing.

She just needs a few more minutes,

and we'll know if we've cracked the German code.

Beep!

Incoming telegram. Must be from Wycombe.

Vim-va-va-vim-vim!

"Wycombe is a spy."

No, that's not...for now.

There's another message.

Vim-va-va-vim-vim!

"The Germans didn't attack Plymouth."

There must be a spy...

No! That's not the message.

Vim-va-va-vim-vim?

"The war is over"?

No, it isn't!

Try again!

Vim-va-va-vim-vim?

Oh, Wycombe is about to arrive.

Right! Good.

We already knew that.

We mustn't waste any time.

We already have.

Look, I can see his plane.

Atten-shun!

Good to see you again, Valerie.

It's been too long.

Commander.

Oh, come on, Val.

Don't tell me you've forgotten the time we spent in Monaco.

Bosh!

No, sir.

Good to have you with us, Wing Commander.

May I take your bag?

No.

Yes, I've been carrying it around all day.

You have arrived at a very exciting time, Commander.

We believe we are on the verge of a big discovery.

Well, you've all been given too much slack here.

Come on. Oh, co...

Come on!

No, no, no, no!

I'm all right.

So, this is the machine that cost King Henry VIII £100,000.

She contains components from all the Allied countries.

Over 4,000 connections a second.

Isn't she magnificent?

This is a complete waste of time and resources.

I am shutting this operation down right now.

She's done it. Done what?

Deciphered the code. She works!

Camille, you speak the best German.

There's nothing... I know, I know.

Wir werden...hart... Abend...sauer...komm...

neunundneunzig Luftballons.

Oh, there's going to be an attack on Plymouth tonight!

My God. Call that in to HQ right now.

This is Lieutenant Heal radioing from Car...!

From Caraway House!

Report...

Reports of a German air attack on Plymouth tonight.

Advanced cyber command unscrambled their defensive position.

Message received loud and clear.

It's done.

Congratulations, everyone.

Oh, let's not get carried away.