Friday Night Comedy from BBC Radio 4 - Dead Ringers - 22nd July

Episode Date: August 19, 2022

Topical satire show, featuring characters drawn from the worlds of celebrity and politics.

This is the BBC. This podcast is supported by advertising outside the UK. BBC Sounds. Music, radio, podcasts. Earth, a planet brimming with life. But as heatwaves engulf the planet, so humanity faces its toughest challenge yet. In my new series,

I told you so. Oh, if only someone had been making documentaries warning us this would happen. Oh wait, I have. For 60 years! Would you listen? No. You were just looking at the funny penguins, weren't you? Well, there's not going to be any more penguins. There's not going to be anything. Just hot dust. And good luck making a series about that. Planet Dust. I don't think so, mate. Across this six-part

series, I'll be pointing at wildfires across Europe, shrugging my shoulders and going, ah, do you see now, thicko? So enjoy this series, or don't. I don't care anymore. I'm going to kick back, smoke a big cigar, and maybe kick a puffin, cos I'm done. Dead ringers! Yeah! This is Today with Martha Carney. And Nick Robinson. Just one contest dominated the news this week.

The tension ratcheted up as the numbers got whittled down to leave us with a dramatic head-to-head battle. Yes, the England women's team beat Spain to reach the Euro semi-finals. Your thoughts, Gary Lineker? Absolutely incredible. The lionesses have silenced their critics to show they're every bit as good as the men's team. Isn't that right, Rio?

A thousand million billions, quazillion for St Gary. But they have to go and prove that now by breaking our hearts in a dramatic Euros semi-final penalty shootout defeat. Or else they could win the tournament. Well, you can do that, can you? The week began with all of us talking about the weather with temperatures of 42 degrees expected. These were temperatures so extreme that hiding in a fridge was no longer exclusively the preserve of prime ministers. The NHS issued rare advice to

stay out of the sun entirely or if you're fromx, not to tan for more than four hours tops. With all of us sweating buckets to cool down, spare a thought for just how excruciating the heatwave must have been for Prince Andrew. Records began to tumble. First, the hottest day ever in Wales with 38 degrees. First Minister Mark Drakeford joins us now. I believe even village signs were melting. That is correct. It was dreadful. Residents came out of their homes only to find the names of their villages

slightly easier to pronounce. LAUGHTER For example... Just became... On Tuesday at Heathrow, it was hot enough to fry an egg on the tarmac. Just another reason to give breakfast at the airport witherspoons a miss. So ferocious was the heat that the government recommended setting aside an hour every afternoon for a nap.

In Spain, they're called siestas, whilst Boris Johnson prefers the term Cobra meetings. The Met Office, however, is predicting a return of cooler weather with cloudy days and lots of rain, a phenomenon known as the start of the school holidays. But the main story was the Tory leadership contest, which lumbered on like a crazed elephant. Tom Tugendhat threw away his chance to become Tory leader early on by appearing normal and well-informed.

One of the other candidates went out of their way to echo Mrs Thatcher by wearing a pussy bow blouse. Thankfully it wasn't Rishi Sunak, who much better suits a halter neck top. So in six weeks' time it will be either Prime Minister Rishi Sunak, a man so rich he can stick the national debt on his credit card, or Prime Minister Liz Truss, a woman who promises to get things done once she finds the exit to the room she's in.

Liz Truss joins me now. Yes, Nick, here I am. Living my best life. I'm nearly PM. This reminds me of when I was seven and got to be Mary in our school nativity play, which was amazing as I was a committed Satanist only the year before. But there was no alternative to me as I was the only one with a stuffed donkey. You seem to be wearing a bowler hat on your head.

Yes, Nick. My job now is to ingratiate myself with the British people, which, as you know, I do through the power of headwear. The bowler hat is the national hat of the people of the United Kingdom. And just one look at this and the people will love me just like the Ruskies when I wore my black furry one. Look, I don't think... You're going to ask about Scotland, aren't you, Nick? Well, I've got that sorted.

I've ordered a party tam o' shanter from Amazon. It was only £2.99 and they've stapled the red hair to the inside of the hat already. I am on it like a car bonnet. There's a lot of people noticing that your voice is getting deeper. I know! Sorry, I mean, I know. Foreign Secretary, in your first tweet after making it through to the final two,

you promised that on your first day, you would hit the ground. That's right! Whack! Kapow! Lizzie getting busy, day one, hitting the ground. That's right. Whack. Kapow. Lizzie getting busy day one hitting that ground. That ground is so going to get it. You do realise the expression is hit the ground running. Why would I be running? That would make it so much harder to hit the ground. much harder to hit the ground. No, no, no running for Busy Lizzy. As I always say, he who laughs,

lasts, laughs. Laughs loudest? No, you've lost me now. Are you at all nervous about taking over from Britain's worst ever prime minister? No, that is an awful thing to say, Nick. Boris wasn't Britain's worst prime minister. He was Britain's worst prime minister for now. Liz Truss's rival Rishi Sunak has again been lambasted by MPs over his vast personal wealth. Reportedly the final straw was when he was pictured buying a family tub of Lurpak. Meanwhile, Boris Johnson signed off his last ever PMQs saying

Hasta la vista, baby. Clear echoes of Mrs Thatcher, who signed off her last ever PMQs in 1990 saying Yippee-ki-yay, mother... Johnson's quote is from The Terminator, the film of a barely human creature who leaves a trail of destruction while pursuing a young woman.

I can't think why that popped into his head. The Terminator joins me now. I am from the future, and I am here to stop a disaster that will befall you all. It's too late. He's already been Prime Minister for three years. As Boris sat down at the end of PMQs, the Tory MPs all stood and clapped. Which presumably means that, like NHS nurses and doctors,

Boris Johnson won't get a pay rise for the next three years. Hey there, I'm Rishi Sunak, the wealthiest badger in the world. In this campaign, I've pledged to be honest with the British people about what lies ahead for this country. So here goes. We're screwed. Absolutely, comprehensively Donald Ducked. The economy is going to go tits up big style.

And if you think we've got a cost of living crisis now, holy crap, you just wait till next winter. Was that a bit too honest? Yeah, you're probably right. Let's go back to lying, shall we? Stick with what we know. This is the 10 o'clock news with me, Hugh. What a scorcher, Edwards. And we can go now to Sophie Raworth, who has the latest on the heatwave. Well, Hugh, all the stats are in and it's official.

We've seen the highest levels of inane advice for dealing with the heat since records began. My gosh. How are the emergency services coping, Sophie? Well, sadly, they've been totally overwhelmed, dealing with injuries caused by people smashing their radios and TVs after one too many BBC presenters told them to put on a fan or drink water. As one woman in Slough was wheeled out to the ambulance, she would only say,

I don't need Sarah sodding Montague to tell me I should stay in the shade. Thank you, Sophie. Oh, and by the way, do try to find some shade and drink plenty of fluid. Oh, for God's sake, not you too. Just shut up. I'm not a total moron. Oh, seem to have lost the line, I'm afraid. Oh, dear. Thank you.

You're listening to LBC with me, Nick Ferrari. The only radio presenter named after a vehicle he can't fit into. So we're down to the final two in the race to be the next Prime Minister. I'm joined now by Michael Gove. Good morning. Well, I don't know where it all went wrong, Nicky Babes. Please don't call me that. I thought I got my whole vote lending scheme all worked out. Vote lending.

Now this is where MPs vote for someone other than their preferred winner to try and eliminate one of the other candidates. Bit cheeky, I know, but we just can't help ourselves. You see, I nudged the lovely Penny into lending some of her votes to dear Liz, bless her heart, and then I got in her way about lending those votes to Dishi Rishi, and then I persuaded him to pull some dirty tricks

to split his remaining backers between the trustmeister, such a sweetie, and darling Penny. They were then both meant to give their votes back to Rishi, who'd swing them back to Liz, then pop them over to Penny again, and then multiply their vote by the number they first thought of and get into such a tiz, every single Tory MP would all end up voting for the same person. And who was that? Well, me, of course.

Mr Gove, you weren't even in the running. Which would have made my eventual triumph even more of a delightful surprise. Something went skew-iff along the way. I can't get my gorgeous little pufferfish head around it. Do you think it might have been that they all realised

you were a lying, backstabbing little toad? I guess that may be possible. Oh, no, no, wait. Oh, I just forgot to carry over the one. Oh, well, see you at the next election. Goofy, goofy, goofy. Bye, bye, bye. Oh, gosh. you've reached Hugh Grant.

Leave me a message. Hughie, it's Lizzie. I heard the rumour that you might be playing poor old Andrew in a film about that Emily Maitlis interview. If I were you, I'd sit this one out, dear. Or you may find yourself starring in a sequel to Four Weddings and a Funeral without the weddings. I have a better

idea. Why don't you play Philip in a film about our marriage? I'll play myself, of course. So I suppose that means we'll be in lots of scenes together. Lots of different kinds of course. So I suppose that means we'll be in lots of scenes together. Lots of different kinds of scenes. Oh, I can't play coy, Huey.

Queenie wants you. Get that tight little tush of yours over to the palace for a ride on the Elizabeth line. I'll show you my crown jewels if you show me yours. Welcome to The Reunion, and today we're taking you back to the long, hot summer of 76. You know, the one Twitter slapheads called Keith and your dad keep going on about.

I'm joined today by Nigel Farage, Jacob Rees-Mogg and Geoffrey Boycott. Nigel Farage, what are your memories of 76? Oh, Kirsty! You know, it was a glorious time, Kirsty, let me tell you. Dollybirds wearing nothing in the street, sex pests on the telly, and endless warm evenings down the pub abusing immigrants.

You were only 12. That's right. What bliss it was to be young, pissed up and prejudiced. Geoffrey Boycott, what were you doing in 76? Batting. Endless batting. I batted for 14 hours straight at Eddingley without a

single drink's break. Were you OK? Absolutely fine. Some light kidney failure, but nothing a spotted, relentless batting couldn't fix. Try telling that to the snowflakes of today, though. Exactly. A couple of sunny days in summer now, and the whole country acts like a big girl's blouse. But it has actually been hotter in the last week than at any time in 76.

I think you'll find my memory of an event 46 years ago is much more reliable than your actual facts. Jacob Rees-Mogg, you're staying rather quiet. Yes, a thousand apologies, Ms Wark. Nanny was just dabbing my sweaty knackers with a paisley neckerchief. So, what was 76 like for you? Oh, marvellous.

I remember riding an elephant along the street to watch the public flogging of a boy who'd stolen some bread from the Viceroy's Palace. The Viceroy's Palace? What year are you thinking of? 1876. New Delhi during the Raj. Never seen a summer like it. It was so hot I had to loosen my cummerbund by one whole notch. You're listening to me, Andrew Marr, with the Nation's Conversation on LBC. So as the

Conservatives continue to tear themselves apart in front of a horrified nation, I'm joined now by Sir Keir Starmer. You must be loving all this. Hardly, Andrew. All this Tory infighting means Labour are being completely ignored. Well, I don't think that's true. Really?

So what did you make of my recent announcement that I'd make it compulsory for all adults to eat jelly for breakfast? I didn't hear about that, actually. Is that actually true? Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. And no-one will ever know because they're all too busy gawping at the Tories. Do you not think the best way to get some publicity might be to devise some policies that will rescue Britain from its current mess? Stuff that, Andrew.

I've taken matters into my own hands. What do you mean? I'm actually speaking to you from the top of Nelson's column, which I ascended while dressed in a little mermaid costume. Whoa! And I'm now going to paraglide down into Trafalgar Square

while singing Barbie Girl by Aqua. Ha! Finally, I'm going to get some proper publicity. I'm going to have to interrupt you there, Keir, because I'm just hearing that Rishi Sunak is wearing an especially thin tie. Oh, bugger! Oh!

Coming soon to The Conspiracy Network, we discover the group of shadowy elites who really control British politics. At last, they reveal who they really are. I'm Patricia from Surrey. I joined my local Conservative Association when I was two. I haven't decided between Rishi and Liz yet, but it's going to be whoever assures me that every service station

will sell those travel sweets in a tin with loads of powder. The ones I like. I don't know why it's all Haribo now. You can't separate them with one hand on a hot day. This omnipotent cabal of power brokers are known only as Tory party members. I'll vote for Rishi, provided he stops my pub from selling coffee. It's a pub. I also want to bring back the birch

for anyone who says less when they mean fewer. Thank you. less when they mean fewer. These unchosen few will decide the destiny of the world's fifth largest economy. I'll vote for Liz, but only if she brings in emergency legislation to prevent Reader's Digest going digital.

I wish we'd just had one type of Rive Eater again. I'll vote for the leader who pledged to remove all the others, in particular the sesame seed ones. I'm planning to vote for Liz, as long as she promises that only the nice lady will deliver me my meals on wheels. Not that new one. She's not from around here.

This secret team of patriots speak for the entire nation. My phone number is far too long. I've told Rishi it's seven digits maximum or I will kill again. Hello and welcome back to Peston with me, the Clark Kent to Tom Bradby Superman. Later in the show we'll be discussing the latest advice for coping with the next heatwave.

Doctors advising always have something ice cold close to hand. Be that water, juice or Home Secretary Priti Patel who joins me now. I resent that incineration, Robert. That was a lot of criticism that the government didn't do enough to prepare for the heatwave. Well, I myself, in my capacity

of me, did everything I could about the weather. Such as? Well, I chartered a load of planes to send the weather back to where it came from. I beg your pardon? This probably hasn't occurred to you, Robert, as you are not in the government, but most hot weather comes from abroad, such as Africa and the Isle of Wight.

So I had lots of planes standing by to send all the hot weather to Rwanda, where it would be happier and be able to mix with other hot weathers of its own kind. So you had all these planes standing by, engines on, ready to take off. Did you actually take any weather to Rwanda? The results of that operation are, of course, top secret and confidential. We've seen evidence that you only deported two patio gas heaters and a hot water bottle. And didn't it occur to you, Home Secretary, that those planes standing by would actually make global warming worse?

Even better. If we end up completely underwater, the migrants definitely won't be able to find us. You have reached the phone of Boris Johnson. If you want me, I'm in the pool. Hello, Boz Chops. Dave here, Dave Cameron. Just say now you've had your term at Prime Minister.

I'm just tallying up the points to see how you did in the game. And let's have a look. You got five points for convincing poor people to vote for you. Once. But I got ten points for doing it twice. So, Yabu sucks to you. But you did get an extra

eaten wazoo for getting a large majority so well done there. But when it came to being bone idle Bozza, well you beat Eden and Balfour. Maximum points, well done. So, yes you probably edged the game in the end so you'll get the ceremonial burnt

fifty pound note next time we meet. Let's not crow too much about it, shall we? Yeah, being Prime Minister, it's just a bit of eating fun after all, isn't it? Kills time between coining it in from Tory papers and cashing out to the oligarchs. Must get you a big fat slice of that action, eh? Oh, don't forget the Bullington reunion on the 27th. Krug, Caviar, bring your own pig. APPLAUSE A voice like a tumble dryer you should have chucked out long ago. So we are in the midst of an unprecedented heat wave

and many people are saying this is only the beginning. We've got Greta Thunberg on the line. The current events are a harbinger of the great climate catastrophe that is to come and we must address this issue now. So, I have a question for you. The pressing question that's on everyone's lips. What are your top tips for staying cool in the heat? I'm sorry? What?

Cold shower before bed? Midnight bath full of Soleros? The only way to stay cool is to reverse centuries of industrial practices. How about popping a towel in the freezer? Listen to me. The Earth's fragile biome is beginning to fail.

Soon we will have mass crop failure, rising sea levels and uninhabitable temperatures. So you're saying carry a bottle of water if you're on the bus? No, that's not what I'm saying. Ah, you're one of these hot drinks to stay cool types.

Why is no one listening? The end is nigh. Wow, someone's clearly been struggling to sleep in the heat. We will all burn! Thank you, Greta. Hold on a moment. I'm just hearing that temperatures next week are set to store to 50 degrees Celsius,

causing uncontrollable wildfires, damage to homes and crippling our public services. So, Greta, one question. Are you a fab or an obbly-bobbly kind of girl? Thanks for joining us. Here's Mungo Jerry in the summertime. Have you recently had to sit through your child's end-of-term show?

Are you seriously wondering if you'll survive another one? Let Penelope Wilton guide you through what to say and what not to say. Number one, the play. Do say... Well, I thought dramatising Gone With The Wind was very brave and I'm sure they can repair the fire damage by September. Don't say... I did like that sixth former who played Rhett Butler. Is he on Tinder?

Number two, the musical. Do say... I always say you can't go wrong with guys and dolls. Don't say... I don't think these kids have seen a genuine whore in their lives. And the dance recital. Do say... It was very imaginative choreography and not long at all.

Don't say... Nine-year-olds twerking. Hold my coat while I phone the Daily Mail. Yes, download the app now for Penelope Wilton's guide to what to say during school plays. And if you buy now, you get a special bonus app. What not to say during parents' evenings. If you say my little Kenny

is a bully one more time, I'll gut you like a haddock. Yes, I thank you, thank you, yes, hello. And, as it were, foie. In recent days, I've been criticised for claiming that the deep state was looking to reverse Brexit, which, coupled with my reluctance to hand over power, has led many to suggest I've gone full Trump. This is complete and utter piffle. And anyone who says otherwise really is a loser. Very, very sad. Bigly sad. It's fake news, OK?

I've been a great Prime Minister by the best, the bigly best. Foie! Foie! I know you people love the Boris despite the negative press and you know,

I face very mean words from the people in a shithole country. Stopping. Sad. So sad. This leadership election is a fraud, not good stuff, account. There are very bad people on both sides, by the way, who want to take away your great country, and we can't let

them do that. No. Stop the steal. Let's grab them by the pussy. Wah! And make Britain great again. Fwah! I mean, what is fwah, Bigley? I don't know. Actually, hold on. I've got an American passport, for crying out loud. If Britain doesn't want me,

I know a proper conservative country who will. Nadine, fire up the campaign RV. We're out of here. Dared Ringers was performed by John Colshaw, Lewis McLeod, Jan Ravens, Deborah Stevenson, and Duncan Wisby. The writers were Nev Fountain and Tom Jameson, Lawrence Howarth, Ed Amsden and Tom Coles, James Buck, Edward Chu, Jade Gebbe, Robert Dark, Rachel E. Thorne, Peter Toulouche, It was a BBC Studios production, and the producer and creator was Bill Dare.