TITLE: Uniform Get In Touch With Naturism
AUTHOR: Augustus
EMAIL: gaius_octavius_@hotmail.com 
WEB ADDY: http://rimmer.alphalink.com.au/Augustus.htm
FANDOM: The Bill
PAIRING: Various
RATING: Aus PG, UK 12, US PG13 - for mild language and sexual suggestion
STATUS: New, complete.
CATEGORY: Hopefully humour - definitely silliness.
SERIES: This is Unseen Episodes #4. It's been over a year since #3
Previous parts can be found at the above address. It should stand alone,
CHRONOLOGY: Hmm... that's a hard one. Pretty much the same place as the
other episodes, but there are a couple of additions.
ARCHIVAL: My sites. List archives are fine, as for anyone else I would
be thrilled and honoured, but please let me know where it is.
WARNINGS: Gross indecency.
FEEDBACK: Much appreciated. Be as harsh or detailed as you feel
SUMMARY: Why Uniform was naked in the station car park... (see UE #1&2)
DISCLAIMER: The Bill belongs to Pearson, ITV and a lot of other people.
I don't own it, I just get annoyed when they discard the concept of
character continuity. Oh yeah, and write bloody ridiculous fic about it.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: There are a few in-jokes within. Sorry! A couple of
uniform-wearers have been excluded. They were obviously off sick this
DATE: 28-08-2001 to 13-10-2001



Uniform gets in touch with Naturism

by Augustus


(A sunny spring morning. The Sun Hill car park is empty - except of
course for the vast assortment of police vehicles. On the brick wall
beside the ramp 'L.A. loves T.S.' is written inside an oversized heart,
while the opposite wall bears a chalk 'Luke 4 Tony'. The sole panda not
out on duty has a new sticker on its bumper bar, a glossy red specimen
asserting 'no fat chicks', while the van bears a similar sticker with
the slogan 'no CID'.
The quiet and stillness is broken by the sudden appearance of George
Garfield, who bursts from the entry cage in a flurry of teary angst and
runs to the middle of the car park. He is completely and utterly naked,
as nude as the day he was born.)
GARFIELD: Nooooooooo!
(George is obviously rather distressed. Which is quite lucky for us, as
it means he's more than happy to prattle away merrily to himself.)
GARFIELD: How could you do this to me, Dave? How?
(He begins to pace around the car park, tears raining down his cheeks,
his brows furrowed in agitation.)
GARFIELD: (sobs) What does she have that I don’t?
(There is the scrape of an opening window behind him and Garfield turns
to look at Matthew Boyden, who is now hanging out of said window.)
BOYDON: Put it away, Garfield.
GARFIELD: (dazedly) Whaaat?
BOYDON: You're out of uniform on duty. That's a reportable offence, you
know. If June Ackland catches you, you'll be in big trouble. Where the
*hell* are your clothes?
GARFIELD: In the locker room, Sarge.
BOYDON: Well go and put them on, then! You're making me ill.
GARFIELD: (petulantly) I can't.
BOYDON: Why not? You seem pretty good at taking them *off*.
GARFIELD: Dave's in there.
BOYDON: So? I thought that'd be an added incentive for you.
GARFIELD: Jenny's in there too.
BOYDON: Now, that's just kinky.
(Garfield's response to this is to just wail a little harder.)
BOYDON: It's going to be one of *those* days, is it?
GARFIELD: (obviously deciding that Boydie is an ideal confidante) He was
meant to be doing that with *me*.
BOYDON: What? (pause) No, wait, I doubt I really want to know.
GARFIELD: (heedlessly pouring his little heart out) Dave and I were
meant to be meeting in the locker room for a... (sob)... illicit tryst.
BOYDON: I was right. I *don't* want to know.
GARFIELD: But, when I went in there, all nuded up and ready to go...
(Meanwhile, poor Sergeant Boyden is being copiously ill onto the
concrete below the window)
GARFIELD: ...*She* was there!
BOYDON: (wiping his mouth) Please be quiet now.
GARFIELD: They were... (gulp)... doing it!
BOYDON: That woman really does have quite abysmal taste.
GARFIELD: (obviously quite hung up on the idea) Doing it!
BOYDON: I'd dump her if I were you.
BOYDON: Jenny. She's not much of a girlfriend.
GARFIELD: I don't *care* about Jenny! Dave's the one I'm in love with!
BOYDON: Which would explain the naked tryst thing.
GARFIELD: Exactly. (wails) I love him and he was shagging my girlfriend.
BOYDON: That sucks.
GARFIELD: (wail)
BOYDON: I mean, it's usually *me* who goes around shagging other
people's girlfriends.
GARFIELD: (blows his nose)
BOYDON: Oh, go put some clothes on for goodness sake! You're ruining my
lovely view.
(He climbs back inside the building and slams the window closed
pointedly, causing a crack to extend along the glass pane.)
GARFIELD: (to his departed audience) You don't understand! No one
understands! My heart is breaking and nobody bloody cares!
(With his confidante gone, George goes back to aimlessly pacing the car
park, in full view of the CID office windows above. The fact that he's
totally nude doesn't seem to be bothering him at all, which is lucky for
him, perhaps, but not so lucky for anyone who happens to look out a
There is a flurry of noise from over at the cage, and Bob Cryer emerges.
He, thankfully, is fully dressed. As he catches sight of Garfield, he
stops suddenly, mouth dropping open in a combination of shock and
CRYER: (nauseously) Boyden said you were causing a disturbance out here.
(pause) He didn't say you were naked, though.
GARFIELD: He wouldn't, would he?
CRYER: Obviously not.
GARFIELD: He doesn't understand.
CRYER: No? Well, I doubt I'll be any more helpful.
GARFIELD: (sobbing) No one can help!
CRYER: I can bring you some clothes if you'd like.
GARFIELD: Why bother with clothes when my life is over?!?
CRYER: For the sake of anyone who chances to look out a window?
GARFIELD: Just because *you're* too old to understand...
CRYER: Pardon?
GARFIELD: Well, I mean, I shouldn't have been silly enough to think
you'd remember...
CRYER: Remember? What do you think I am? Ancient?
CRYER: Thanks a bloody lot.
GARFIELD: Well, let's face it, you're a bit past it, aren't you?
CRYER: (fuming) Past it? *Past it*?!?
(He starts to remove his uniform, grumbling all the time)
CRYER: I'll show you past it, young fellow me lad!
(This continues until Cryer reaches a state of complete and utter
CRYER: Who's past it now, P.C. Garfield?
GARFIELD: What's nudity got to do with it? I was talking about *love*!
CRYER: Love? You think I don't know about love?
(He begins stalking around the car park, ranting and raving most
CRYER: I too have loved and lost, I too have felt the bitter tang of
romance gone sour. I too have smelt the perfume of a rose while walking
hand-in-hand down the moonlight dapple path of life. I too have-...
BOYDON: (reappearing at the window) Shut up, granddad!
(Boyden disappears once more and Garfield and Cryer just stare at each
other for a while.)
CRYER: So... Lovely weather, isn't it?
GARFIELD: Mmm... Lovely.
(Dave Quinnan comes bursting through the cage doors. He too is naked.)
QUINNAN: Georgie-Porgie! There you are.
GARFIELD: (turning his back) I'm not talking to you.
QUINNAN: Sorry... You weren't meant to see that.
GARFIELD: Oh big frigging surprise!
QUINNAN: (whines) Well, you were early!
GARFIELD: I didn't realise I would be messing up your shagging agenda.
QUINNAN: I don't have a shagging agenda. I prefer to be more
GARFIELD: Oh, and being 'spontaneous' entails cheating on me with my
girlfriend, does it?
CRYER: Am I the only one to see something dreadfully wrong with that
GARFIELD: I thought Boyden told you to shut up. Do you mind? We’re
trying to have a lovers' tiff!
QUINNAN: (confused) Is there a reason why you're naked, Sarge?
GARFIELD: Never mind that!
QUINNAN: Well, I'd sorry, but I *do* mind! It's horrible!
CRYER: Well, you're not exactly fun to look at yourself. They can
perform miracles with laser hair removal these days, you know...
GARFIELD: (getting really stroppy now) Look at *me* goddamnit! This is
meant to be about *me*! Me! Me! Me!
QUINNAN: Geez, chill out. The naked and agitated look really doesn't
suit you.
(Garfield bursts into tears and runs off to sulk behind the CID sedan.)
CRYER: (offhand) Now you've done it. He'll be there for days.
(With impeccable timing, Tony Stamp pulls up in the area car, the
remains of an unfortunate pedestrian dragging along behind him. He
narrowly misses adding Cryer and Quinnan to the day's tally, but makes
up for it by taking out one of the headlights of Jack Meadows' car.)
STAMP: (getting out of the car) Nude day today, is it? That sounds like
a lark.
(Tony immediately goes about the task of removing his uniform, stuffing
the individual pieces back through the half-open window of the passenger
side door. It doesn't take long.)
STAMP: (stretching) Aaah. That's much better. So. Why are we naked?
QUINNAN: (rolling his eyes) Don't ask. George is being tiresome again.
STAMP: What's wrong? Did he finally realise you're boffing Jenny?
QUINNAN: Yeah, but I don't know what his problem is. He'd be doing it
too if she'd let him.
STAMP: What you need to do is get yourself a probationer. Preferably one
with a dishy mother.
QUINNAN: I tried. Cryer wouldn't let me.
CRYER: That's Sergeant Cryer to you.
STAMP: You're starkers, Sarge. Dave probably just forgot without the
stripes to remind him.
CRYER: Besides, I doubt we'll be getting any probationers for quite a
while now that Top Brass have found out all about those things you did
with P.C. Ashton.
STAMP: They only found out because Luke told them. He thought he'd get
extra marks for it at his monthly review.
QUINNAN: You should have stuck with me.
STAMP: Nah. Luke is much prettier. And *much* more obliging.
QUINNAN:(persuasively) But he's not here anymore, is he? (suggestively)
*I'm* here, though.
(The wailing from behind the CID sedan gets a little louder.)
STAMP: (ponders) I might be able to fit you in next Tuesday...
CRYER: If the area car ends up in the state it was in last week, you're
paying for the cleaning bill yourself this time, Stamp.
STAMP: Just put it on George Garfield's account.
GARFIELD: Oi! I heard that.
STAMP: (rolls eyes) I'm shaking in my...
(He looks down)
STAMP: Well, I would be if I was wearing any.
(June Ackland runs screaming into the car park. She is rather charred
looking and decidedly naked, save for a few burnt and tattered rags that
frankly don't conceal anywhere near enough.)
ACKLAND: Aaaaaagh! My house! My precious house!
CRYER: (snapping into 'Uncle Bob' mode) There, there. What happened?
ACKLAND: Someone burned it down. Again. With me in it.
STAMP: (quietly to Quinnan) They finally got it right.
QUINNAN: (quietly back) No they didn't. She's still alive, isn't she?
STAMP: True.
ACKLAND: (wailing) They got my cat again too.
(She pulls a charred feline corpse out from the frizzled remains of her
ACKLAND: Poor Puss Puss!
CRYER: Puss Puss? What kind of name is that?
ACKLAND: (suddenly realising) Never mind that. Why are you all naked on
QUINNAN: Why are *you* naked? I thought there was some sort of law
against that.
ACKLAND: My house burnt down - remember? The fire burned my clothes off.
STAMP: Oh, that's *very* convenient, isn't it? How many times is this
now? Five?
ACKLAND: (petulantly) ...Six.
CRYER: I don't think Brownlow's going to be quick to believe you. This
is the second time this month, June.
ACKLAND: Can I help the fact that arsonists seem to target me more than
the rest of you?
STAMP: Are you sure you're not just lighting them yourself?
ACKLAND: What are you trying to say? That I'm a pyromaniac?
STAMP: (thinks for a moment) ...Yes.
ACKLAND: (squawks) That's insubordination! That's just not on! That's
tantamount to treason! That's... that's... that's true, actually. You've
got me there.
STAMP: Bleeding obvious, wasn't it?
QUINNAN: The spot fires in the cells when you're duty sergeant...
CRYER: The computer explosions whenever you're rostered to the CAD
STAMP: The smoke streaming out through the vents in your locker...
BOYDON: (reappearing at the window) Don't forget the time she tried to
set fire to my favourite pair of wellingtons!
(The naked people all look at each other, confused. Boyden sighs deeply,
then slams the window closed again in disgust.)
CRYER: (gently) June, you have a problem. I suggest you seek help.
ACKLAND: (tearing up) Don't you think I've tried? But every single time
my eyes fall upon something too tempting to resist and I find myself
setting fire to Brownlow's secretary, or Reg's garden, or...
(She pauses and her eyes light up)
ACKLAND: Remember that giant pink stuffed elephant they had as a prize
for the trivia night?
QUINNAN: I can't believe we're supposed to take orders from you.
STAMP: (reminiscing) Luke and his mum were looking pretty damn hot that
CRYER: I'm afraid I'm going to have to tell Monroe on you, June.
ACKLAND: No! You dobber!
CRYER: I'm sorry, June. It has to be done. Inspector Monroe has a right
to know that it was one of his sergeants who started the helmet fire
that left him with that giant bald spot.
MONROE: Did someone say my name?
(Monroe is just emerging from the cage. For some reason that I'm sure
we're about to find out, he too is completely and utterly nude.)
CRYER: Uh... We were just talking about June's house burning down again.
MONROE: *Again*?!? That's very careless of you, June.
CRYER: Yes. I think we should talk about that later...
MONROE: Oh? Okay then.
STAMP: May I ask why you're naked, Sir? Or is it *really* nude day at
Sun Hill?
(Monroe looks down at himself, as though he's just noticed his own naked
MONROE: Oh. That's right. I was momentarily distracted from my task.
MONROE: (producing a ukulele from goodness knows where) I intend to
serenade D.C.I. Meadows from beneath his office window.
MONROE: That's a long story.
QUINNAN: Tell us? We’ve nothing better to do.
MONROE: Aren't you on duty?
STAMP: Meh. That's a relative question.
MONROE: Oh well. As long as Brownlow doesn't catch you. The D.C.I and I
have been having several... discussions... of late. He continually
accuses me of being controlled by the uniform I wear. But I'm not!
There's so much more to me than simply the uniform!
QUINNAN: Which explains the nudity thing.
MONROE: Well, for *me* at least.
STAMP: Why do you care what Meadows thinks, anyway?
(Monroe coughs and splutters for a few seconds before finally replying.)
MONROE: Ahem! Well... hmm... (grasping for a reason) Aha! For the sake
of relations between CID and Uniform.
(Dave and Tony snigger.)
CRYER: Well, they could always do with a boost.
MONROE: My thoughts exactly.
STAMP: So you're going to... serenade him.
MONROE: Yes? And?
STAMP: Just seems a little dodgy to me, sir.
MONROE: I'm your superior, P.C. Stamp. I'm the one who decides what is
and isn't dodgy around here. And, if I want to serenade Ja-... *D.C.I
Meadows* in the nude, then your job is to be supportive, not
QUINNAN: (trying to be supportive) What are you going to sing?
MONROE: I was thinking 'Wannabe' by the Spice Girls.
STAMP: ...Isn't that all about sex?
MONROE: ...I mean a *different* 'Wannabe' by *different* Spice Girls.
(Luckily Monroe's bumblings are interrupted by the arrival of a new car:
Charles Brownlow's executive sedan, with Derek Conway at the wheel.)
CRYER: It's Brownlow! Look busy!
(They all busy themselves with doing important activities such as
picking up errant pebbles, tidying up Cryer's pile of clothing, scraping
the bits of dead granny off the Area Car fender... They're so busy, in
fact, that it takes them a few moments to realise that Brownlow and
Conway are also considerably lacking in the area of attire.)
BROWNLOW: It's nice to see the station being so supportive for a change.
CRYER: Supportive of what, Sir?
BROWNLOW: Why, my meeting with the Canly Naturists Society, of course!
CRYER: Oh. Um... Yes, that's right.
BROWNLOW: Don't you want to know how it all went?
ACKLAND: (unenthusiastically) Okay.
BROWNLOW: We were a hit! They especially appreciated Derek's talk on the
transience of the uniformed state.
(Conway throws a marked glare in the direction of his superior.)
STAMP: (interested) Does that mean we're going to be allowed to patrol
in the nude now?
BROWNLOW: Of course not! What do you think this is? Nazi Germany?
QUINNAN: What's that got to do with anything?
BROWNLOW: Don't question your superiors.
(Meanwhile, Conway is trying to cover his naughty bits, while edging
towards the temptation of Cryer's discarded pile of clothing.)
BROWNLOW: Derek! Remember that little talk we had this morning about
CONWAY: But I'm *cold*. It's just not natural to be wandering around
stark bollock naked in the middle of April.
BROWNLOW: Policing has nothing to do with nature. It's all about public
relations and using the media to your advantage.
CONWAY: I draw the line at appearing naked on television.
BROWNLOW: It may not ever come to that.
CONWAY: It had better bloody not. Now, can we get inside before Jack
Meadows catches me wandering around like this?
BROWNLOW: Must you be such a nag, Derek? We'll go inside when I'm ready
to go inside - no sooner.
STAMP: (quietly to Quinnan) Am I the only one thinking 'old married
QUINNAN: (also quietly) No, and it's disgusting.

(Reg Hollis wanders up the drive carrying a watering can. He,
thankfully, is dressed.)
HOLLIS: Hullo. What's happening here?
(He catches sight of Meadows, Conway and Brownlow.)
HOLLIS: Oh! I didn't realise *you* were involved, Sirs.
BROWNLOW: Morning, Hollis. How's the garden getting along?
HOLLIS: Well, it was a bad winter for frosts, but I think we're starting
to get some good re-growth. I'm hoping that... (He pauses.) Am I meant
to be naked too? I don't remember anything being said at parade this
BROWNLOW: There's no need to strip off. These wonderfully station-minded
people have done so to support Chief Inspector Conway and myself in our
latest public relations endeavour, but there was no direct order for
them to do so.
HOLLIS: (seeing the perfect sucking-up opportunity disappearing right in
front of his eyes) I hadn't realised. Otherwise, I would have been
working naked for the past week. (Almost pleadingly) Let me make up for
it! Let me show just how supportive I can be!
(Hollis immediately begins to disrobe. Everyone else looks nauseous and
turns away.)
CONWAY: There really is no need, Hollis. We're *more* than aware of just
how supportive you are.
HOLLIS: (removing the last sock) It's okay. I don't mind.
CONWAY: (under his breath) You may not, but I certainly do.
HOLLIS: (enthusiastically) So! What now? Do you want me to call the
Beeb? ITV? I'd suggest we don't bother with Channel Four, though.
They'll only try to make it into something dirty and sordid.
CONWAY: Call anyone and I'll have you up in front of a disciplinary
board before you can so much as re-lace your boots.
(Reg frowns and decides to embark on a sullen silence.)
STAMP: (coming up with a good idea for a change) Why don't you go
comfort George, Reg? He's been feeling a little down?
(Reg nods sulkily and heads off behind the CID sedan.)
QUINNAN: Thank God *he's* gone.
HOLLIS: I *heard* that!
QUINNAN: (quietly) He says it as though I care.
CONWAY: (whining) I'm cold. Can we *please* go inside?
BROWNLOW: If you don't stop complaining, I'll make you spend all day
tomorrow with D.C.I. Meadows - following *his* orders.
(Conway shuts up.)
ACKLAND: (deciding it's about time she got some more attention) My cat
(No one cares.)
ACKLAND: Heartless bastards.
(A Panda pulls into the car park with Vicky Hagen at the wheel and Cass
Rickman in the passenger seat. They stare in horror at the sight in
front of them. Vicky hurries to get out of the car, but Cass lingers
behind, putting off the inevitable.)
HAGEN: (with hands on hips) What the *hell* is going on here?
(She surveys the gathered crowd.)
HAGEN: Just another example of the Sun Hill boys club by the looks of
HOLLIS: (helpfully from behind the car) Actually, we're assisting Chief
Superintendent Brownlow in a public relations exercise.
HAGEN: Nice cover, but I don't believe a word of it. We're sick of these
macho shows of exclusionary solidarity, aren't we, Cass?
(There is no response.)
HAGEN: Cass?
(Cass is still huddled inside the Panda, covering her eyes. She shows no
signs of coming to Vicky's aid any time soon.)
HAGEN: Well, she *would* be sick of it if she wasn't too busy being
sickened by your gross display of male chauvinistic nudity.
ACKLAND: (Who's had quite enough of this, thank you) P.C. Hagen, in the
future you might like to take a little more time to size up the
situation before jumping to conclusions and accusations.
HAGEN: What do you mean?
ACKLAND: (crossly) Well! I'm a *woman*, not a man.
HAGEN: That's debatable.
(The others all snicker, but June doesn't appreciate the comment.)
ACKLAND: I'll have you know, I'm more woman than *you'll* ever be.
(Hagen's only response is diabolical laughter.)
ACKLAND: I am! I am! ...Aren't I?
(She looks to the men for support, but none of them are quick to jump
ACKLAND: Oh, thanks a bloody lot.
HAGEN: Now, where was I?
QUINNAN: You were calling us a bunch of sexist bastards. Or words to
that effect.
HAGEN: That's right. I was distracted by Ms. Gravity-is-not-your-friend.
(She begins to take off her clothes. Cass - still in the car -
immediately becomes much more interested in the view. She's not the only
STAMP:What are you doing? (quickly) Not that I'm asking you to stop...
HAGEN: I'm showing you that women can do *anything* as well as men -
especially police work. If policing is going to involve nudity from now
(She removes her bra and waggles it in Brownlow's - rapidly reddening -
HAGEN: ...Then you'll soon see the power of a wazzle pair of jugs.
(The others are stunned into silence by this display. Cass, however, has
finally managed to exit the car.)
HAGEN: Well? What have you got to say for yourselves?
BOYDON: (sticking his head out of the window yet another time) Call that
a wazzle pair of jugs? You're kidding, right?
HAGEN: (offended) Excuse me?
BOYDON: Don't worry. I'm still happy to shag you any time you ask.
STAMP: You'd shag anything.
BOYDON: At least I leave the probationers alone.
STAMP: Not their mothers, though...
BOYDON: You're just annoyed because I wouldn't join in on that threesome
you both wanted.
(While the full value of that statement sinks in for the others, Boydie
BOYDON: You've got a very nice body, Hagen. But if it comes down to
wazzle jugs, then I'm afraid you've lost the argument.
(Vicky is struck silent with anger. Luckily Cass is there to support
RICKMAN: What? Is that all?
(She quickly disrobes in order to reveal the wazzlest pair of jugs in
all the land.)
RICKMAN: Satisfied?
(Unbalanced by the weight of the tongue hanging out of his mouth, Boyden
falls out of his window.)
HAGEN: (proudly) I think that's a yes.
(Reg has crept out from behind the CID sedan in order to stared at the
first naked women he's ever seen - Ackland being excluded for obvious
reasons. He remains quiet, though, so no-one's too bothered.)
BOYDON: I think I've broken something.
RICKMAN: Just as long as it's not your ego.
BOYDON: (suddenly worried) Perhaps I'd better go call the F.M.E.
(He staggers off through the cage and back into the station, passing
Polly Page, who is on the way out. The latter catches sight of a naked
Dave Quinnan and immediately runs screaming into the car park in a scene
very reminiscent of Beatlemania.)
PAGE:  Aaaaaaaaagh! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!
STAMP: Have you stopped taking your pills again, Polly?
PAGE:  (unconvincingly) Nooooo....
CRYER: I thought you were meant to be manning the CAD room.
PAGE: I was... but no one was answering any of my calls, so I thought
I'd come out to investigate.
HAGEN: Well, you're out. Now can you go away again?
PAGE:  (staring at Dave) No.
HAGEN: Piss off before I smash your stupid bucktoothed face in. (She
frowns, bemused.) I'm not sure where that came from, but it certainly
felt good!
PAGE: (self righteously) I have just as much right to be out here as you
do, Vicky. More so, even. *I'm* not naked.
HAGEN: Please keep it that way.
PAGE:  I'm not about to take orders from the two of you.
RICKMAN: (shrugging) We're only saying it for your own good. Let's face
it, Dave's even less likely to fall madly in love with you if he's seen
you with your kit off.
QUINNAN: She's probably right, you know.
(Polly looks devastated at that remark.)
PAGE:  That was a very hurtful comment, Dave.
(Tony snickers.)
PAGE:  What's wrong with you people? Have you removed all traces of
decency with your uniforms? (A pause.) Why are you naked anyway?
RICKMAN: None of your bloody business.
STAMP: And decency is overrated.
(Polly looks towards Brownlow for support but he is too busy arguing
with Conway about the temperature. Monroe is no good either as his
attention is taken up by the complicated process of tuning his ukulele.)
PAGE:  That's it. If you can't beat them, join them.
(She quickly removes her clothes. Vicky and Cass turn away, disgusted.)
STAMP:Look at what you've done now, Dave.
QUINNAN: Hey, don't put the blame on *me*!
PAGE: (trying to look sexy) Are you still so sure about not finding me
attractive, Davey-boy?
QUINNAN: (risking a quick glance) Positive.
(Polly bursts into George-like tears and runs off to join Garfield
behind the CID sedan.)
STAMP:You're being a real heart-breaker today, aren't you, Dave.
QUINNAN: Meh. I still have Jenny. And you, whenever you can fit me in
around Luke.
STAMP: And his mum.
QUINNAN: (sighing) And his mum.
RICKMAN: I've always wondered about that. The three of you don't... No,
I can't even say it.
HAGEN: Please *don't* say it.
STAMP: No, we don't. What do you think I am?
CRYER: Probably best not to go into that right now. Wait until
everyone's delicate bits are at least protected by a layer of clothing.
(While they're busy arguing about such matters, Smiffy manages to walk
right up to the group undetected.)
SMITH: What the *hell* is going on out here?
RICKMAN: (innocently) What do you mean?
SMITH: The blatant public display of nudity.
HAGEN: (sighing) Let me guess. They never would have let you get away
with this in the army.
SMITH: The exact opposite in fact. It was *compulsory* to spend at least
half an hour a day walking around completely naked. It was supposed to
curb our sexual urges.
STAMP: (bemused) Did it?
SMITH: What do you think? Hundreds of naked army-moulded men walking
around you, holding their firm young bodies into the most flattering
poses, carrying glistening guns in their... (He coughs.) I mean, of
course it did! What do you think I am? A bleedin' bender?
QUINNAN: (rolling his eyes) No, of course not. You and Sam were just
really good friends...
STAMP: And when you and Nick fight, it's just because you're angry at
each other, not because you're trying to prompt fiery make-up sex...
HAGEN: And besides, there are no gays in the army...
RICKMAN: (grinning) Not any more, anyway.
(Smiffy glares at them all.)
SMITH: What? Are you trying to say I can't get naked without turning
into some sort of gay homosexual?
QUINNAN: I don't think being naked has anything to do with it.
SMITH: (ignoring him) Well, if that's the case, then I'll prove you
(Angrily, he starts pulling his clothes off and flinging them in all
SMITH: (muttering) Nobody ever accused me of being gay in the army...
(It doesn't take long for Smiffy to remove every last item of clothing.
Once done, he looks around self-righteously.)
SMITH: Well?
RICKMAN: Well what?
SMITH: Well I'm not exactly chasing after any of the blokes out here, am
HAGEN: No, but that doesn't prove anything. They're not quite what I'd
(She trails off, looking for the right word.)
RICKMAN: (helpfully) Attractive?
HAGEN: Actually, I was thinking of 'tempting', but yours is better.
PAGE:  (from behind the CID sedan) Speak for yourself, bitch!
(Vicky just ignores her.)
PAGE:  Aha! That's got you thinking, hasn't it?!
(Vicky exchanges a 'look' with Cass and they both start giggling.)
SMITH: I'm going to go do something manly.
(This sparks off more giggles, but he wanders over to the Area Car
anyway, trying to retain at least a little of his dignity. Once there,
he opens the bonnet and pretends to be very interested in the engine.)
STAMP: (yelling) Can you change the oil while you're in there?
(Finally something happens to *really* test Smiffy's resolve - and
sexual preference. Sam dazedly wanders up the driveway, muttering under
his breath. Surprise, surprise, he too is naked.)
SMITH: (chanting under his breath) I'm not going to look, I'm not going
to look, I'm not going to look...
HARKER: (muttering) The truth is out there...
(Sam finally makes it to the gathering of uniform officers.)
RICKMAN: (worriedly) Are you okay, Sam?
HARKER: (vaguely) Whaaat?
RICKMAN: Are you okay? You look a little... strange.
HARKER: Strange? No, everything's wonderful.
HAGEN: If everything's wonderful, where are your clothes?
HARKER: Clothes?
(He looks down at himself and looks genuinely surprised to see flesh
rather than clothing.)
HARKER: Oh yeah...
HAGEN: (impatiently) Well?
HARKER: I have no idea what happened to those. They must have kept them
for more experiments, I guess.
HARKER: (patronisingly) The aliens, of course.
STAMP: Aliens? Are you pulling our legs or something?
HARKER: No. Why would I be doing that?
STAMP: You're *not* feeling okay, are you... (to Dave) Perhaps we should
go get the F.M.E or something.
QUINNAN: It won't do any good. The first couple of times he got like
this, Boyden called in the F.M.E., but she couldn't find anything wrong
with him.
STAMP: He should have called in the bloody shrink.
RICKMAN: (gently) What aliens, Sam?
HARKER: The ones that abduct me every Tuesday afternoon.
HAGEN: But today's Wednesday.
HARKER: Apparently they've been really busy this week.
RICKMAN: What do the aliens do when they abduct you?
STAMP: Apart from steal your clothing, that is.
HARKER: They conduct experiments and collect voice patterns for their
preparations to invade earth.
ACKLAND: And you people think *I* have a problem.
HARKER: In return, I get to stay alive once they're supreme rulers of
the universe.
STAMP: That's handy.
(Harker nods seriously. Once he turns away, Tony makes loony signals at
the others, who look to be in complete agreement. Sam wanders off to
stare dazedly at a very ordinary stone on the ground.)
HAGEN: He's never been the same since Smiffy dumped him for Nick.
SMITH: (yelling from the Area Car) Oi! I'm not a bleedin' bender!
(As if to test this statement, there is another bang of the cage as Nick
Klein himself walks unsteadily into the car park. He is giggling away
merrily and clutching a suspicious looking cigarette in his left hand.
He too is naked. Smiffy's mantra gets a little louder.)
SMITH: I'm not going to look, I'm not going to look, I'm not going to
(He sneaks a peek.)
SMITH: (a little desperately) Not a bleedin' bender, Not a bleedin'
bender, Not a bleedin' bender...
(Still giggling, Nick wanders over to join his very straight friend.)
KLEIN:  'Ello Smiffy. Where did all your clothes go?
SMITH: (trying not take another look) I could ask you the same question.
KLEIN:  I asked first.
SMITH: I'm proving to the others that I'm not a bender.
KLEIN:  You've changed your tune since last night.
(Smiffy glares at him and flashes a quick look over to the others,
hoping desperately that they haven't heard. They show no sign of having
done so, but Smiffy's not about to let Nick off the hook that easily.)
SMITH: Shhh! I thought I told you not to discuss those things at work.
KLEIN:  (taking a long drag of his 'cigarette') Hey, chill out, man...
SMITH: (starting to get a little suspicious) What's that you're smoking?
It smells funny.
(Nick just taps the side of his nose and gives Smiffy a knowing look.)
SMITH: And you're acting funny too. (He frowns.) You finally managed to
find your stash, didn't you? God, Nick! You know how I feel about you
smoking that shit. Why do you think I hid it in the first place?
KLEIN:  (petulantly) It's only a bit o' puff.
SMITH: Yeah, and you're meant to be on duty.
(He snatches it from Nick's hand and drops it on the ground, stubbing it
out with his foot before realising that he's not wearing any shoes.)
KLEIN:  Spoilsport.
SMITH: Now, go inside and put some clothes on before Dave and Tony start
ogling you.
KLEIN:  (smiling) You're jealous.
SMITH: (thrown) No I'm not. I'm just... thinking of your professional
KLEIN:  You are! You're jealous.
(Smiffy stomps his foot.)
SMITH: I'm not. (His voice begins to rise.) And I'm not a *bleedin'
STAMP: (calling over to him) Oh, give up, Smiffy. It doesn't matter how
loud you yell it. We're still not going to believe you.
SMITH: (muttering) This would never have happened in the army.
(Nick starts giggling again, which just makes Smiffy's glare grow a
little darker.)
SMITH: Go put some clothes on, would you?
KLEIN:  Not until you do.
SMITH: I can't. I'm proving a point.
KLEIN:  Well don't go telling me what to do, then.
(They glare at each other for a while, sexual tension fizzling almost
visibly between them. They're only distracted from doing something that
would *definitely* have destroyed Smiffy's point by another bang of the
cage doors. A mysterious figure runs yelling into the car park, wearing
only a Terminator helmet.)
TERMINATOR: Raaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
(No one is particularly impressed.)
HAGEN: (boredly) Oh, cut it out, Boyden. We all know it's you.
BOYDON: (put out) How? You can't see my face.
RICKMAN: Who else runs around the station in a Terminator helmet.
BOYDON: (after a long pause) ...John Boulton?
STAMP: That's a Robocop helmet.
ACKLAND: I take it the F.M.E. didn't find any permanent damage, then.
BOYDON: I never called her. I got distracted.
QUINNAN: By the helmet, right?
BOYDON: Noooooooo...
(Sam looks up from his stone, sees Boyden, and starts screaming in
SMITH: (to Nick) Maybe I should go explain to him.
KLEIN:  You do and I'll burn your Rolf Harris records.
SMITH: Now who's jealous.
(Nick pokes his tongue out at him. Smiffy tries very hard not to do
anything non-heterosexual to it.)
BOYDON: What's with Sam?
QUINNAN: He's been abducted by aliens again.
BOYDON: I thought that only happened on Tuesdays.
RICKMAN: They re-scheduled him.
(Suddenly a loud battle cry emanates from the general direction of the
cage. The naked officers all turn to see what it could be, and are
greeted by the sight of the entire CID - minus Rod Skase and John
Boulton - running towards them, handcuffs at the ready.)
DEAKIN: Right! You're all-...
(Jack Meadows buts in.)
MEADOWS: Except for Inspector Monroe.
DEAKIN: (sighing) Except for Inspector Monroe, you're all under arrest
for indecent exposure.
(There is a flurry of handcuff-snapping and rude-bit-covering and
finally the entire Uniform contingent of Sun Hill are ready to be
relayed up to the cells.)
BROWNLOW: You can't do this! I'm you're superior officer!
PROCTOR: I do hope you're not trying to use your rank to avoid
prosecution, Sir.
BROWNLOW: (angry splutter)
MEADOWS: Right, take them inside to be processed.
(With a bit of pushing and shoving, CID manage to do just that. Meadows
stays behind, smiling happily.)
MEADOWS: I've been wanting to do that for years... (pause) Hey! Who
broke my car?

~ fin ~
(c) Augustus13-10-2001


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