Radio play:
Whoppers!
Bees Will Be Bees

CHARACTERS

In the World:
COLONEL DIGBY THROCKMORTON......	......a 704-year-old whopper-teller
GEORGE BINSLEY......	......a failed banker
In the Story:
HANK DONGLEDUNGLE......	......a boy turned bee
KICK......	......his best friend
MISERABLE OLD MAN
A RESENTFUL BEE
REVEREND SNAVELY-GLOVER......	......a thin ill ancient vicar
HANK'S MA
THEODORIC HUMSHAUGH......	......a farmer
AN UNFORTUNATE WASP
SERGEANT BEETYOUUP......	......of the bee police
FOREMAN BEE
LOST BEE
HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN BEE
CLERK OF THE COURT BEE
JASPER DWAIN WUZZABOOM......	......a wasp with criminal intentions
PSYCHIATRIST BEE

SCENE 1
GRAMS	DURING INTRODUCTION WE HEAR DUKE ELLINGTON'S 'TAKE THE TRAIN'.
FX	FADE DOWN MUSIC. BRING QUICKLY UP SOUND OF CHOO-CHOOING OF TRAIN, HUBBUB OF PASSENGERS, THROCKMORTON IS BREEZING QUICKLY DOWN THE AISLE.
THROCKMORTON:	'Underneath the mango tree my honey...' Good morning, sir. How are you? Have you lost a bunion, madam? I found this one in the buffet car.
WOMAN:	Errrh!
THROCKMORTON:	(INNOCENTLY) Not yours, then.
THROCKMORTON:	(CLOSE, OVERSEEING THIS, QUICKLY, EXCITED) That's me there! On that stupid train! I'm going to Vallyvostock to wrestle a herd of particularly bad tempered mammoths. Well, to tell the truth, I'm on my way to Bury St. Edmonds to strangle a bishop. (SIGHS WITH ADMIRATION) Aren't I handsome?
THROCKMORTON:	(ON TRAIN) This seat taken, is it?
GEORGE:	(FROM BEHIND A RUSTLE OF NEWSPAPER, IRRITATED) Don't think so.
THROCKMORTON:	Colonel Digby Throckmorton.
GEORGE:	(RELUCTANTLY) Good morning.
THROCKMORTON:	Would you like to play cards?
GEORGE:	No thank you.
THROCKMORTON:	Billiards?
GEORGE:	(ANGRILY SHAKING NEWSPAPER) I'm reading about the crisis, if you don't mind.
THROCKMORTON:	(DISAPPOINTED) Oh! (SUDDENLY EXCITED) Oooooh, a tunnel!
FX	ACOUSTIC OF TRAIN GOING THROUGH TUNNEL
THROCKMORTON:	(IN TUNNEL, LAUGHS WITH GLEE) I do so like tunnels! Don't you? I'm 704-years-old you know. (MORE SERIOUS) I had a thousand and twelve nephews once upon a time. Nearly all dead now.
GEORGE:	Tragic.
THROCKMORTON:	Goodness, no. They were all horrible. Especially on your side of the family.
GEORGE:	But we're not related. We've just met.
THROCKMORTON:	What are you sticking your nose into my business for then?!! Damned cheek!
SPOT/FX	GEORGE HAS BEEN DRIVEN MAD. HE JUMPS UP AND DOWN ON THE SEAT LIKE A FURIOUS CHILD, THE TWANGING OF THE SEAT'S SPRINGS
GEORGE:	Tell me a story!!! I WANT YOU TO TELL ME A STORY!!! About the bees! The bees!
THROCKMORTON:	All right, hold your horses.
SPOT/FX	THE DISTANT WHINNEY OF A MAD HORSE
	GEORGE IS WHIMPERING, SUCKING HIS THUMB AS THROCKMORTON COMMENCES HIS TALK....
SCENE 2
FX	EXTERIOR ACOUSTIC. IN BACKGROUND, THE TWITTERING OF BIRDS. IN FOREGROUND, THE BUZZING OF BEES, TO AND FRO LIKE CARS ON A MOTORWAY
	IN THE 'BEE STORY' THROCKMORTON AND GEORGE SPEAK, NOT FROM THE TRAIN, BUT CLOSER, DIRECTLY TO US...
THROCKMORTON:	(REPEATS THE WORD, SAVOURING IT) Bees! Beezzz! Bease! Beeeeeeeeees! (A PAUSE) B-eee-zzz! What was this story about again?
GEORGE:	(NOT SURE) Bees?
THROCKMORTON:	Beeees, of course. (SUDDENLY LAUNCHES IN) My nephew Hank...his real name was Shirley, but we called him Hank...and his best friend, Kick, so called because he ate a lot of potatoes...were crouched down in the middle of the most charming country lane. This was...what: 1894. No, I tell a lie, it was a week last Thursday...no, 1894...no, three years ago come Wednesday fortnight. Do you know what they were doing?
GEORGE:	Nope.
THROCKMORTON:	They were torturing a bee!
FX	THE BEE BUZZING ANGRILY, THE BOYS CHUCKLING WICKEDLY
KICK:	Squish him, go on!
THROCKMORTON:	Of course, we didn't have them when I was a boy.
GEORGE:	Bees?
THROCKMORTON:	Potatoes. (BACK TO HIS STORY) They had him under a stick, were just about to squish him...when a miserable old man jumped out of a tree...
FX	SOUND OF THE MISERABLE OLD MAN JUMPING OUT OF THE TREE AND RUNNING UP THE LANE
MISERABLE OLD MAN:	Here, what are you doing?
HANK:	Who cares?
KICK:	We're just playing. Buzz off.
MIS. OLD MAN:	You are killing that innocent beast!
HANK:	It's nowt but a bee, you stupid old nit!
KICK:	(DELIGHTED AT HIS JOKE) It's nowt but a nit, you stupid old bee!
	HANK AND KICK CHUCKLE TOGETHER
MIS. OLD MAN:	Release it, I command you!
HANK:	Buzz off, you, or I'll squish it good and proper!
MIS. OLD MAN:	Please boys: do try, if you will, to see this situation from the bee's point of view.
FX	(THEY GIGGLE) THE BEE STRUGGLING WITH A DESPERATE BUZZ
MIS. OLD MAN:	(WITH A SUDDEN COLD AUTHORITY IN HIS VOICE, SLOW) Release the bee...or I shall MAKE YOU see things from a bee's point of view. I shall turn you into bees.
	THEY BLOW RASPBERRIES AND GIGGLE
HANK:	(THROUGH HIS LAUGHTER) Squishy-squish-squish-squishsquish!
MIS. OLD MAN:	So be it my young sirs...(MUMBLES A SPELL) Oooodoodoodoopadaddaddda... oooodoodoodoopadaddaddda... whizzy-whizzy-whoosh-whoosh.
FX	THE TINKLE OF CHIMES IN A WINDOW, A TOILET BEING FLUSHED, A PARROT SQUARKS
KICK:	Here, Hank...
HANK:	What is it, Kick, my old stomper?
KICK:	Your face looks all funny. You've got hundreds of eyes.
HANK:	Never have.
KICK:	Have.
HANK:	Haven't!
KICK:	Have!
HANK:	Haven't!!! You have. YOU'VE got hundreds of eyes, not me! Buzzzzz...!
KICK:	I've got TWO eyes! TWO!!!! Buzzzzz....!
HANK:	Hundreds of eyes! And a horrible chewy mouth full of hair! And stalks growing out of your head.
KICK:	(REALIZES IT'S TRUE) Eughrrr!
HANK:	But who gave you that ace orange pullover?
KICK:	(A WORRIED TREMBLE IN HIS VOICE) Same fella that gave you that extra pair of legs.
HANK:	(REALIZING WITH SAD RESIGNATION) Oh! (IN A SMALL WORRIED VOICE) Kick....?
KICK:	Uh-huh.
HANK:	He has, hasn't he?
KICK:	Lookszzzz like it.
HANK:	(TAKING OFF AS HE SAYS THIS) He's turned us into beezzzzzz.....
FX	HANK'S 'beezzzzzz...' TURNS INTO A BEE'S FLIGHT, BUZZING TO AND FRO, HE CALLS AS HE SWOOPS PAST:
HANK:	(SWOOPING ABOVE US FROM LEFT TO RIGHT) Whoooooooooo! Cummon, Kick. Buzz yer wings!
FX	WE STAY ON THE GROUND WITH KICK, CONSTIPATED SOUND EFFECTS FROM HIM AS HE TRIES TO START HIS WINGS, HANK, MEANWHILE FLIES UP AND AROUND AND PAST, WHOOPING JOYFULLY
KICK:	They won't work!
FX	HANK APPROACHES SOUNDING LIKE A MESSERSCHMIDT SWOOPING OVER A CRICKET PITCH
HANK:	(CALLING AS HE PASSES) Beat yerh chest like Tarzannnnzzz...that'll get yer motor going.
FX	KICK BEATS HIS CHEST, HIS BUZZ COUGHINGLY STARTS, LIKE AN OLD CAR...
KICK:	B-b-b-b...uzzzzz..... buzz....buzz....zzzzzzz....buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz......
FX	HE TAKES OFF, LAUGHING AND BUZZING...
KICK:	(GETTING FURTHER FROM US ALL THE TIME) It works! It works! I'm up! Higher and higher!
HANK:	(APPROACHING) Great, ain't it?
KICK:	(ON A CLOSE FLY-PAST) Un-beeee-leavable!!!!
HANK:	Hey, watch out, will yer?!
KICK:	(ON ANOTHER FLY-PAST) To bee or not to bee...that is the...
FX	KICK CRASHES INTO HANK, IT SOUNDS LIKE TWO MOTORIZED CAMELS CRASHING INTO EACH OTHER ON THE M62
HANK:	Uoupgg!
KICK:	Eurfffghh!
FX	THEY BUZZINGLY STRUGGLE IN MID-AIR
HANK:	Get yer leg outta my pollen-sack!
KICK:	(MOUTH FULL OF SOMETHING) Get yerh ligula outta my epipharynx!
HANK:	My what outta your what?
FX	STUCK TOGETHER THEIR BUZZING PUTTERS OUT, THEY INTO A SPIN, THEY YELL 'Arrrrrrhhhhh!!!!', THEIR CRASH IS LIKE THAT OF A HORSE, HAVING BEEN SHOT FROM A CANNON, LANDING IN A FOREST OF DRY TWIGS FROM WHICH CRACKED CHINA CUPS WERE HANGING
MIS. OLD MAN:	(LAUGHING)
KICK:	You okay, Hank? Hank?
HANK:	(COMING TO) Are we on the ground?
KICK:	We're on the ground.
HANK:	(MOANS, WORRIED) Something's snapped off. Don't know what it is.
SPOT/FX	HE SHAKES IT, IT SOUNDS LIKE A BAG OF LAMB CHOPS
KICK:	Oh, that's nothing. You don't need that.
HANK:	You've got one.
KICK:	I'll snap mine off, shall I, then we're equals.
SPOT/FX	HE SNAPS OFF THIS INESSENTIAL ORGAN; A SOUND LIKE CELERY BEING TWISTED IN TWO
KICK:	There!
HANK:	You're a real pal, Kick.
MIS. OLD MAN:	(LAUGHING RIGHT OVER THEM)
HANK:	What's so funny, you old nit!
MIS. OLD MAN:	(HIS VOICE GIGANTIC, ALL-PERVADING NOW, PROUD AND SURPRISED AT HIS MAGICAL PROWESS) I said I would, and I did, didn't I though!
KICK:	Let's get him!
HANK:	Yeah, let's gerrim!
FX	THEIR BUZZING STARTS UP LIKE MOTORBOATS AT THE BEGINNING OF A MOTORBOAT RACE
MIS. OLD MAN:	(RUNNING OFF IN FRIGHT) Erghhh! Eurghhh! Help! Bees! Mad bees!
FX/SPOT	THE SOUND OF THE OLD MAN RUNNING OFF THROUGH BRACKEN, SNAPPING DRY TWIGS, HIS TROUSERS BEING TORN BY BRAMBLES
HANK:	Stingers out!
KICK:	Stingers out! Go for his nose!
HANK:	His what?
MIS. OLD MAN:	(CRYING IN MID-DISTANCE AS HE RUNS) Not my nose! Please! Anything but that!
KICK:	His bum then!
MIS. OLD MAN:	No! No! (HE FALLS OVER A BRIDGE INTO A RIVER) Arrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhh!
FX	A HUGE SPLASHY SPLASH, AS SPLASHY AS AN ELEPHANT FALLING INTO A SWIMMING POOL FROM A GREAT HEIGHT
SCENE 3
FX	AFTER THE SPLASHING: BUZZING APPROACHING FROM THE DISTANCE, THE BOY-BEES HOVER
HANK:	Where'd he go?
KICK:	He's under the water.
HANK:	Drowned, is he?
KICK:	Naw...there he is, look. He's holding his breath.
HANK:	We'll wait till he comes up then and get his nose.
KICK:	Yer on.
FX	SUDDENLY A HEAVY BUZZ BESIDE THEM
HANK:	Is it just me or can you hear a buzzing sound?
RESENTFUL BEE:	(IN A DEEP, SINISTER, SLOW, HONEY-THICK VOICE) Hello, boyzzzz. Remember me-zzzzzzz.
KICK:	Oh, great, Hank! It's another bee.
RESENTFUL BEE:	I bee a big bumbler-bee-zzzzzzzzzzz with a beezzzzz in eeeeeees bonnet-zzzz.
HANK:	(WHISPERS) Kick, it's him...him that we were squishing before.
KICK:	Oh-O.
HANK:	(WITH SICKLY LAUGHTER, TO RESENTFUL BEE) We'd love to stay for a chat, but I promised my Uncle Digby I'd wash his Irish Wolfhound for him.
KICK:	...and I'm playing cricket in the swimming baths at half-past.
RESENTFUL BEE:	Oh, but youzzzz can't bee going yet-zzzzz.
HANK:	No?
RESENTFUL BEE:	I haven't done horrible thingzzzzzz to youzzzz yet. Horrible painful thingzzzzzzzzzz.
HANK:	(WHISPERS TO KICK) I think we'd better buzz off.
KICK:	(WHISPERS BACK) We'd better had.
	THEY EACH DO A SICKLY LAUGH IN THE RESENTFUL BEE'S DIRECTION
HANK:	BUZZ OFF, KICK!!!!!!
FX	IMMEDIATELY ON HANKS'S ORDER THE BEE-BOYS ZOOM OFF FOR ALL THEY'RE WORTH. A SWIFT SPINNING BUZZ....
RESENTFUL BEE:	(LEFT BEHIND, SAYS SLOWLY WITH ICY DETERMINATION) I bee coming after youzzzzz. I'll bee right behind youzzzzzzz.
FX	THE RESENTFUL BEE STARTS UP HIS MOTOR AND ZOOMS AFTER LIKE A HELICOPTER. AS HE REACHES THE DISTANCE: CLOSE, THE MISERABLE OLD MAN SURFACES FROM THE WATER WITH A HUGE GASP....
MIS. OLD MAN:	(DRIPPING, GASPING) Have they gone?
SCENE 4
GRAMS/FX	BRING UP 'THE FLIGHT OF THE BUMBLE BEE' STARTING AT ITS NORMAL SPEED BUT GETTING GRADUALLY FASTER AND FASTER. THE BOY-BEES FLY WITH A WHOOSH OF WIND, BUZZING AT FULLEST POSSIBLE BUZZ
SCENE 5
HANK:	(CALLING ABOVE THE BUZZ) We're going too fast. I can't see where I'm going!
KICK:	(ZOOMING PAST US) He's right behind!!!!
FX	THE RESENTFUL BEE'S HEAVY BUZZ IS SUDDENLY UPON US
RESENTFUL BEE:	(SLOW BUT SURE) I bee right bee-hind. This bee me and I bee right bee-hind.
HANK:	(CALLING BACK) We didn't mean it!!! We're sorry!!!
RESENTFUL BEE:	It bee too late for that, it bee.
FX	THE BEE-BOYS ARE PANTING WITH EXHAUSTION. THEIR WINGS CREAK
HANK:	I can't fly no further. I'm running out of petrol.
FX	A RUNNING-OUT-OF-PETROL PHUTTING IN HIS BUZZING
KICK:	Just another mile, Hank. There's a fête at the church today. We can hide in someone's pocket. Maybe the vicar will swat our fat friend for us.
SCENE 6
FX	THE HUMAN BUZZ OF HUMANS AT A FÊTE, CLINK OF GLASSES, CHATTER AND POLITE LAUGHTER
HANK'S MA:	(APPROACHING) You've a lovely day for it, Vicar.
REV. SNAVELY-GLOVER:	(A THIN ILL ANCIENT VOICE) My barometer said rain. A lesson, no doubt, that we must put our trust in the Lord... (A VICARISH CHUCKLE) ...and not barometers.
FX	THE SUBTLE SOUND OF BUZZING AND PANTING
	Can I hear a bee?
HANK'S MA:	You must meet my brother, Vicar. Colonel Throckmorton. He was here a moment ago wrestling with an enormous dirty dog.
REV. SNAVELY-G:	Two bees, I'm sure.
HANK'S MA:	He's 704-years-old, you know.
FX	LOUDER BUZZING OF BEES...THE SOUND OF BEES BUZZING UNDER A CARPET!
REV. SNAVELY-G:	704. That's very old for a dog.
HANK'S MA:	No, my brother. He's 704.
REV. SNAVELY-G:	Poor man. He must be even more decrepit than me.
HANK'S MA:	Oh, he's nothing like you, Vicar. He's as strong as a brontosaurushorse and not the least bit senile.
REV. SNAVELY-G:	(DISAPPOINTED) Oh.
SCENE 6
THROCKMORTON:	(CLOSE, TO GEORGE AND US) Shall I tell you a secret about the vicar? (WHISPERS) In 1962 he had too much wine at a wedding reception, woke up the next morning upside-down in the font without a hair left on his head. Ever since, he's worn a horrible yellow wig that looks like an undercooked omelette.
FX	UNDER-THE-SHEETS TYPE ACOUSTIC:
KICK:	(IN A HUSHED WHISPER) Where are we?
HANK:	Shhhhh! We're hiding-zzzzzzz.
KICK:	But where?
HANK:	Up there looks like an undercooked omelette, except it's all hairy. Down here...
SPOT/FX	(STAMPS HIS FEET, MAKING SOUND LIKE THE TAPPING OF A SPOON ON A SOFT-BOILED EGG)
	...looks like a huge egg of some sort. Anyway, it's an ace hiding place. That angry bee will never find us here. Never! Never in a million years!
SCENE 7
FX	THE HEAVY BUZZ OF THE RESENTFUL BEE CIRCLING THE VICAR'S HEAD
RESENTFUL BEE:	I bee here. This bee me and I bee here, I bee-zzzzz. You bee hiding under that vicar's wig....I knowzzzzzzzz.....
REV. SNAVELY-G:	(IN A FLAP, JUMPING ABOUT) Oh! Oh! Bee gone! You devilish thing you! Bee gone!
FARMER HUMSHAUGH:	Stand still, Vicar. There's a bee on your nose. I'll whack him for yer.
SPOT/FX	A THWONK, A VICARISH CRY FROM THE VICAR, THE CRASH OF PLATES, SPOONS AND A SLURP OF TRIFLE
FARMER HUMSHAUGH:	Sorry, Vicar. Don't know me own strength.
	(A MOAN FROM THE VICAR)
HANK'S MA:	I don't like to say this, Vicar, but your hair has flown away.
REV. SNAVELY-G:	(CRESTFALLEN) So I see...and correct me if I'm wrong, but am I not sitting in the trifle?
FX	THE ANGRY WOOF OF AN IRISH WOLFHOUND. A LAST STRANGLED CRY FROM THE VICAR
SCENE 8
THROCKMORTON:	(TO GEORGE AND US) What place is the most dangerous place in all the world for a bee?
GEORGE:	Middlesborough.
THROCKMORTON:	No.
GEORGE:	Err...Clacton-on-Sea.
THROCKMORTON:	No.
GEORGE:	Errr...Oh, I know!
FX	A HOLLOW ACOUSTIC, LIKE THE INSIDE OF A DRUM:
KICK:	(WHISPERS) Now where are we?
HANK:	(SOFTLY, AMID SLURPS) Hey, this gooey stuff tastes great-zzzz. Shoot yer tongue into it! Mmmmmmmmmmmmm-strawberrieszzzzzzzzzzzzz!
	(KICK SLURPS HORRIBLY WHILE HANK MUSES)
HANK:	(SOFTLY, TO HIMSELF) That must have been the vicarage window we flew through...then where did we go?
KICK:	(A LITTLE LOUDER) No more worries now-zzzz. Our angry friend got hisself well and truly squished. Should we feel sorry for him, now that we're bees as well? Yes, I'm sorry for him. Are you sorry for him, Hank?
HANK:	NO!!!!
KICK:	(EATING DISGUSTINGLY) Mmmmm, I love being a bee! You can eat really disgustingly!
HANK:	(TO HIMSELF, WITH GROWING REALIZATION) Oh, no. Oh, no. Kick... (KICK CONTINUES EATING) Kick.....Ohhhhh! (SHOUTS, FILLING THE JAR WITH HIS ECHO) WE'RE IN A JAM-JAR!!!!!
KICK:	NO! No! Help! HELP!
HANK:	How could we have been so stupid! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!
KICK:	My fault?!
HANK:	You're better at being a bee than I am.
KICK:	(TEARFULLY) I was enjoying it more, that's all. I don't like this, though.
FX	A WEAK HALF-BUZZ THAT IS ALSO A SNEERING MOAN COMES FROM NEARBY
HANK:	There's somebody over there.
FX	THEY HURRY OVER, MAKING SLURPY STICKY FOOTSTEPS
KICK:	Looks like a wasp to me.
UNFORTUNATE WASP:	(THE SHARP VILLAINOUS VOICE OF AN OBVIOUSLY CROOKED SOLICITOR) I can't see. My eyes are all jammed up. Are you brothers of mine?
HANK:	We're boys.
KICK:	Bees, actually. Bee-boys, anyway. Or boy-bees. That's Hank, he's a boy-bee. I'm Kick; I'm a bee-boy.
HANK:	(ANGUISHED) We must be turning into bees inside our heads, or we wouldn't have been so daft as to get stuck in here.
KICK:	Nonsense. It's a mistake anyone could make.
UNFORTUNATE WASP:	No, he's right. You're daft. I know that you're daft because I'm daft too. I am, daft. I'm daft. I'm always getting stuck in these places. Now I'm stuck for good.
SPOT	A GRUFF MANLY VOICE SHOUTS FROM ABOVE, AS IF THROUGH A MEGAPHONE, ECHOING IN THE JAR
SERGEANT BEETYOUUP:	Hoi! Hoi! You two workers! This is Sergeant Beetyouup of the Bee Police. Here I am. At the hole in the lid.
KICK:	Oh, yeah. We can see you.
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	What did the Queen tell you about jam-jarzzzzzzzzzz? Eh? Eh? Buzz up here this instant or I'll bee inside beeside yerzzzzzzzzz!
HANK:	What about him?
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	(SCATHINGLY) Leave him to stew. He's a wasp.
FX	THE BOY-BEES GET THEIR BUZZES GOING
HANK:	(CALLING SADLY AS HE FLIES AWAY) So long, wasp. I hope everything turns out all right for you.
UNFORTUNATE WASP:	(CALLS WEAKLY, CONTRITE AND PATHETIC) Tell Wuzzaboom I'm sorry, if you see him, will yazzz?
HANK:	(HIGH UP, DISTANTLY) Wuzzaboom, got it.
SCENE 9
THROCKMORTON:	(CLOSE, STORYTELLING) So Sergeant Beetyouup of the Bee Police took my nephew Hank and his friend Kick with him as he flew around his beat.....
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	(CALLS WHILE FLYING, IN BACKGROUND) Mind how you buzz. Mind how you buzz.
THROCKMORTON:	...rounding up other bees who'd got themselves into trouble, got lost, or somehow forgot they were bees.
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	Mind how you buzz. Evening all.
THROCKMORTON:	Yes, it was evening, and the sun was an orange ball tangled in the hedgerows...and the windows of the church were flashing with orange as if the church was full of orange juice. It would have been time for Hank and Kick to go home for tea, to tell their sisters of the adventures they'd had that day, to sleep and dream in their own beds. But worker bees do not sleep. They work. Day and night and always until they drop. Is this your bunion by any chance?
GEORGE:	Erm, no. I can still feel mine.
THROCKMORTON:	They flew halfway up the church steeple and through the mouth of the gargoyle. (A LOUD WHISPER) They were in a hive... (BRING IN SOUND OF A TRILLION BEES BUZZING, TALKING IN UNISON) ...a huge icky-sticky, orangey-waxy place, a city of bees, with more corridors than all the buildings in London put together. And bees, wherever you looked, wherever you stood, wherever you went. Bees! Bease! Buzzy-buzzy-Beezzzzzz! Bees!
FX	A TRILLION BEES BUZZING AND TALKING.....
SCENE 10
FX	THE BUZZING IS MORE DISTANT
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	Found this daft-looking bee stuck in a dog's ear, Foreman.
LOST BEE:	(PIPING UP IN BACKGROUND) This isn't my hive, I'm sure. Ours is much tidier.
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	And these two workers had themselves stuck in a jam-jar in the vicarage.
FOREMAN BEE:	(TOUCHED WITH YORKSHIRE) Jam-jar! Don't you listen to nuffink the Queen tells yerzzzzzzz?!!!
HANK:	Look, this is a mistake. We're not bees at all.
KICK:	(WHISPERS TO HANK) Cummon, Hank. Let's bee bees for a while. There's nothing wrong with beeing a bee.
HANK:	(CALLS WITH HUMAN POMPOSITY) My friend and I aren't bees. We're not bees.
LOST BEE:	I'm not a bee neither. I'm a pigmy hippopotamus. (CHUCKLES LIKE A LUNATIC)
FOREMAN BEE:	He with you?
HANK/KICK:	We never saw him before.
KICK:	Look, what my friend says is true, we're not bees, but we don't mind....
HANK:	Yes we do! We're not Beezzzzzz!
FOREMAN BEE:	Youzzzz all pigmy hipplypratigrouses, then?
HANK:	Don't be silly....we're...
FOREMAN BEE:	(FURIOUS AND SHOCKED) Silly! Silly! You hear that, Sergeant Beetyouup!
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	(UNBELIEVING) Naw, I couldn't have heard what I thunked I did.
FOREMAN BEE:	(MORE CONFUSED AND HURT THAN ANGRY) I bee the Foreman, see. I'm not a Drone, I bee the Foreman. A Foreman can't bee silly. All this, huge bee-autiful hive you seezzzzzz around yerzzzzz, I bee its Foreman.
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	He's the Foreman.
FOREMAN BEE:	That bee right. The Foreman.
KICK:	Excuse me, Mr. Foreman, but if I worked really hard at being a bee could I bee Foreman like you one day? I'd like to bee just like you.
FOREMAN BEE:	You can't bee the Foreman! I'm the Foreman. (ASIDE TO SERGEANT BEETYOUUP) He wants to bee Foreman!
LOST BEE:	You're not the Foreman! The Foreman's got a pink moustache!
FOREMAN BEE:	(STUTTERS) Bee-bee-bee-bee-bee....I'll show youzzzz who bee the Foreman!!!! Sergeant!
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	Foreman!
FOREMAN BEE:	Take these three hippyfatugnasties down to the grub department.
LOST BEE:	(WHISPERS) We've had it now!
HANK:	Have we?
LOST BEE:	It bee horrible down there, it bee. (LAUGHS INSANELY) Hot and sticky and the chewing sends you buzzyclonkmy.....heeeee.....heeeeezzzzzzzz.....
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	(TAKING THEM AWAY) Buzz along now, workers. Buzz along.
SCENE 11
GRAMS/FX	A QUICK SNATCH OF ARTHUR ASKEY SINGING HIS 'BEE' SONG. BRING UP SOUND OF THE BUZZING HIVE, THEN OVER THAT, TAKING IT AWAY, THE SOUND OF BEE-GRUBS CHEWING, CLOSE. IT IS A SOUND LIKE A HORSE CHEWING HONEY-SOAKED NEWSPAPERS UNDERWATER
HANK:	(EXHAUSTED) Don't they ever stop eating??!!!
KICK:	They're the future of the hive, Hank. The Foreman has given us a great responsibility. We must do our best.
FX	A HEAVE OF EFFORT FROM KICK AS HE THROWS A SPLASH OF GRUB-FOOD AT A GRUB
HANK:	I want to bee a boy again. I want to be by myself in my room with a book that I can stop reading to squash a bee on my windowpane. THAT BUZZING!!! IT WON'T NEVER STOP!!! IT WON'T NEVER!!!!
KICK:	Stop complaining and put your back into it. The grubs are hungry. (THROWS MORE FOOD IN) That makes 47 helpings I've given it since it last burped.
FX	IT BURPS AGAIN
HANK:	(MISERABLY, WHILE HEAVING FOOD IN) I want to bee myself again. I want to play cricket. I want knees with scabs on.
KICK:	(ENTHUSIASTICALLY, ANOTHER HEAVE AND ANOTHER SPLASH) One helping. (TRYING TO GET HANK INVOLVED) Hank! Hank! Betya I can reach fifty helpings before it burps again. (HEAVES OF EFFORT, SPLASHES) One helping! Two! Helpings! Three helpings! Four! Five! ha-ha! This is the life! Eight helpings! Nine helpings!
FX	IT BURPS
HANK:	(FULL OF RESENTMENT) It burped.
KICK:	Didn't not!
HANK:	Burped!
FX	IT BURPS AGAIN
HANK:	It burped again!
KICK:	Didn't never! It was that one there! (GETS BACK TO WORK) Ten helpings! Eleven helpings! 12 helpings! Cummon, Hank! Get to work! You want the Foreman to bee proud of uzzzzz, don't you?
HANK:	I hate the Foreman! I hate the Foreman! He's a bee!
KICK:	You get to work this minute or I'll show you the sharp end of my stinger.
HANK:	Oh, yeah? I've got a stinger too, somewhere.
KICK:	Cummon Hank, there's 8,643 grubs in here and they've all got to be fed.
HANK:	(GIVES IN) All right, all right.
FX	A NEARBY HUNGRY BEE-GROWL. A FARAWAY ONE. A LITTLE TUNE OF BEE-GROWLS WITH RARE BURPS ACCOMPANYING
SCENE 12
FX	SOMEWHERE DOWN THE CORRIDOR: A TRUMPET FANFARE. AS THE QUEEN APPROACHES SHE REASSURES THE RANKS OF BEE-GRUBS
QUEEN:	Hello, all my babies. Hello. How amusing you all are. I'm very amused. Couldn't bee more amused. Hello, babies.
KICK:	Hank!
HANK:	(A HEAVE OF EFFORT, A SPLASH) This thing's had 62 helpings and still wants more.
KICK:	(COULDN'T BE MORE IMPRESSED) It's the Queen! She's coming this way. The Queen!
HANK:	What Queen's this?
KICK:	OUR Queen!
HANK:	Queen Elizabeth the Second?
KICK:	No! OUR Queen. OURS.
FX	THE QUEEN APPROACHES. HER WINGS BUZZ THE TUNE OF 'GOD SAVE THE QUEEN'
QUEEN:	Ah, two loyal worker bees. (AS IF MEETING THEM ON A ROYAL WALKABOUT)
KICK:	(MUTTERS AWESTRUCK) Oh, your Majesty, this is such an honour, such a deep honour....
QUEEN:	And what do you do?
HANK:	We feed the maggots.
QUEEN:	(HIGHLY OFFENDED) MAGGOTS!!!!
FX	A BEE-GRUB BURPS IN THE BACKGROUND
KICK:	(LIKE URIAH HEEP) He means the bee-autiful bouncy bee-grubs, marm. We chuck them their nectar-balls, the little darlings, to make them big and strong and sting-y.
QUEEN:	(DELIGHTED) Oh how amusing of you. Carry on...keep up the good work. (IN SUDDEN DISTRESS) Oh! Oh! Are there any spare cells in this corridor?
KICK:	Yes indeedy, marm. There are 43 vacant cells down there on the left.
QUEEN:	(AS SHE HURRIES AWAY) Oooh! Ooooooh!!! (STOPS EXHAUSTED) Oooh, I'll never make it. You'll have to help me.
SPOT/FX	THE BOY-BEES HURRY OVER
KICK:	Of course, marm.
HANK:	(THOROUGHLY DISGUSTED) Eugghhhhhhhhh!!!! What's that coming out of her?!!!
KICK:	She's laying eggs, you nit! (IN A DITHER) Oh, marm, what can we do to help? Your Majesty! Oh, your Majesty!
HANK:	That means more of these horrible things for us to feed!
QUEEN:	Oh, Oh, Oh....I feel another coming on. Take...erm, I'll call him Albert - I call them all Albert you know, after myself...take Albert and put him in a vacant cell.
HANK:	(RELUCTANTLY) Yes, marm.
SPOT/FX	THE UNMISTAKABLE SOUND OF A FOOTBALL BEING KICKED DOWN A WET CORRIDOR
QUEEN:	(BRUSQUELY) DON'T KICK HIM!!!! CARRY HIM!!!! Oh! Oh! Oh! Here it comes! Ooooooooh!!! (WITH AN EXCITED SIGH) Oh, I'm so amused. It's a girl-Albert.
FX	THE GIRL-ALBERT MAKES NEWBORN BABY-BEE SQUEAKS
KICK:	(AS IF CATCHING A PRIZE PIG) I've got it. A future Queen!!! She's almost as beautiful as yourself, marm.
QUEEN:	Nobody's as beautiful as me...oh, yes, she's a corker, isn't she (SIGHS SLEEPILY) Queen Albert the 91st.....
KICK:	Hank! Give me six hands with our future Queen, will youzzzzzzz, Hank. She's massive!
SCENE 13
SPOT/FX	THE BEE-BOYS' EXHAUSTED EFFORT-SOUNDS AS THEY DRAG THE EGG TO AN EMPTY CELL. THEY SOUND LIKE THEY ARE DRAGGING A SACK OF POTATOES UP A STICKY ESCALATOR. THE BABY BEE SQUEAKS. THE SOUND OF A SACK OF POTATOES BEING STUFFED INTO A TELEPHONE BOX, THE BABY BEE'S SQUEAK HAS A NOTE OF CONCERN. CHEWING CONTINUES IN THE BACKGROUND.
HANK:	It'll never fit.
KICK:	Push! Push!
SPOT	THE SOUND OF A SACK OF POTATOES FALLING INTO A LARGE THREE-QUARTERS-EMPTY JAR OF HONEY. THE BEE-BOYS PANT, OUT OF BREATH
HANK:	Phew! I've never been so exhausted in all my life.
WUZZABOOM:	Psssssssssssst!
KICK:	What was that?
HANK:	This egg, it must have a puncture in it!
WUZZABOOM:	Nope, it's me. Here, look. Pssssssssssssssst!!!
HANK:	Hello.
KICK:	Who are you?
SPOT/FX	SIX WASPS GIGGLE MALEVOLENTLY AT THE BEE-BOYS' SHOULDERS, MAKING A BUZZING SOUND THAT SPELLS OUT WUZZZZZZZZABOOOOOM
WUZZABOOM:	(IN A SHARP, SINISTER BUT INGRATIATING WASPISH VOICE) Youzzz couldn't, could yerzzzzz, be nice and wasply and tell a pal where "SHE" is, could yerzzzzzzz???
HANK:	The Queen, you mean?
WUZZABOOM:	"HER", yeahzzzzzz.
KICK:	Are you carrying any identification?
HANK:	She's just down the corridor on the left having a little rest.
WUZZABOOM:	Very wasply of yer, thankzzzz. (GRUFFLY OVER HIS SHOULDER THE WASPS) Cummon, youzzzz, quick march.
SPOT	OFF THEY MARCH
KICK:	They didn't show me any identification. And they look more like wasps than bees to me.
HANK:	Wait a mo, Kick, I'll just have a word with them. (DASHING AFTER THE DEPARTING WASPS) Excuse me! Excuse me!
WUZZABOOM:	WHAT YOU WANT??!!
HANK:	You're not Wuzzaboom are you, by any chance?
WUZZABOOM:	(DEEPLY SUSPICIOUS) Might be.
HANK:	I've a message from a daft friend of yours I met in a jam-jar. He says he's sorry.
WUZZABOOM:	(INGRATIATING AGAIN) Tish-tosh! Look, erm, yer doesn't mind if me and some of my stripes (THE WASPS CHUCKLE EVEN MORE WICKEDLY) toddles along and kidnaps....errr....has a few friendly words with yer Queen, doeszzzzzz yer?
HANK:	Feel free.
WUZZABOOM:	(CHUCKLES, MARCHING AWAY WITH HIS WASPS) Wasply, very wasply of yerzzzzzz.
KICK:	What's going on? Did they show you their identification?
HANK:	No need. I know who that is. (PROUDLY) That's Wuzzaboom.
KICK:	Wuzzawho?
HANK:	Boom.
KICK:	Boomawuzz?
HANK:	Wuzzaboom!!! He's a chief of wasps or something.
KICK:	(VERY WORRIED) I think we should alert Sergeant Beetyouup. I'm sure it's against the law for wasps to wander around unescorted in a bee hive. Shall I go or you go?
HANK:	(YAWNS) You go.
KICK:	You go. I don't know the way.
HANK:	Neither do I.
KICK:	Oh, I have failed the Foreman! I have failed in all my responsibilities.
SPOT	DOWN THE CORRIDOR THE QUEEN IS SCREAMING. SHE IS BEING INTERFERED WITH AND CARRIED OFF
KICK:	Oh, no! The worst has happened! OUR Queen is in danger! (ALREADY ON HIS WAY) We must save her or die in the attempt!!!
HANK:	(YAWNS) I wonder what my sister is doing right at this moment. Washing the dog, I expect. (HE WALKS SLOWLY AFTER)
SPOT/FX	WUZZABOOM AND THE WASPS COME TOWARDS US, CARRYING THE QUEEN ABOVE THEIR HEADS. HER WINGS BEAT A FRANTIC 'GOD SAVE THE QUEEN', THE WASPS LAUGH AND JEER.
QUEEN:	(SINGING FRANTICALLY AS SHE IS CARRIED PAST) God save the Queen! Send her...victorious! Happy and...Glorious!
SPOT	A BRIEF SCUFFLE, THE VIOLENT CLICKING OF FENCING-FOILS
WUZZABOOM:	OUT THE WAY, YOU! OUT THE WAY!
KICK:	You WASPS!!! You evil yellow-faced WASPS!!! WASPS!!! Put down our beloved monarch!!! Hank! Help me fight them! Help me!
HANK:	Aw, let them have her if they want her!
QUEEN:	(BEING CARRIED INTO THE DISTANCE) Long to reign over us. God save the Queennnnnnnnnnnn!!!!
KICK:	(CRYING) Your Majesty! I have failed you! They have kidnapped your royal person! I have failed in all my responsibilities!
HANK:	You don't have any responsibilities! You're not a bee, you nit!!!
	(KICK CONTINUES TO WAIL IN TEARS)
	That Wuzzaboom's quite a fella, isn't he?
KICK:	He stung me. I can't feel anything in three of my legs.
FX	A POLICE SIREN AS SERGEANT BEETYOUUP ZOOMS UP. A SWIFT HEAVY BUZZ IN TUNE WITH THE SIREN
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	You and You! This bee be Sergeant Beetyouup of the Bee Police. You're under arrest!
HANK:	We never did nothing!
KICK:	We did! We failed our gracious Queen!
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	Aiding and abetting in the kidnapping of Her Majesty.
HANK:	We never did!
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	I have a reliable witness.
LOST BEE:	I saw it all! I saw them talking to the wasps! I realised that they were pointing her out to them, so I ran off for help.
KICK:	But we tried to stop the wasps. Really we did.
LOST BEE:	Traitors!!!
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	Come quietly now, workers, or I shall have to beat you up.
HANK:	(TO KICK) Now how do you like being a bee, eh?
KICK:	(WEAKLY) Actually, Sergeant, this bee is incorrect in his assessment of the situation. We tried to help the Queen. We would never hurt her! We love her!
SGT. BEETYOUUP:	Shut up your snivelling lies! Traitors!
SPOT	SERGEANT BEETYOUUP MILDLY BEATS THEM UP
HANK/KICK:	Ow! Ow! Ow!
FX	FADE AS SERGEANT BEETYOUUP SAYS: