This is a nice little comic story that brings our two intrepid agents to England. It's also a treat for you British comedy fans in the audience. All of you Monty Python fanciers who have actually seen the shows and not just Holy Grail may recognize the sketch this story is based on. It is entitled "Science Fiction Sketch", and it can be found on the episode Oh, You're No Fun Anymore. There is also a bit of Fawlty Towers mixed in here (and for the sake of this story, I have moved the hotel from Torquay to London). Any of you who have not seen these shows will still have no trouble reading this story, but I insist you go out and rent them anyway. They're great fun!
Oh yes, and the X-Files, Monty Python's Flying Circus, and Fawlty Towers do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.
And now, just one piece of crucial information you'll need to know:
Blancmange (pronounced "blanh manzh") a sweet milk pudding
thickened with cornstarch or gelatin and flavored with vanilla or rum.
Just a Bit of Science Fiction
By KD
THE BEGINNING OF THE FILM
VOICEOVER: The universe consists of a billion billion galaxies, 77
billion miles across, and every galaxy is made up of a billion billion
stars. And these billion billion stars circle a billion planets. And of
all these planets the greenest and the pleasantest is the Earth, in the
system of Saul in the galaxy known as the Milky Way. And it was to this
planet that visitors from an alien planet came, to conquer and destroy
the very heart of civilization.
NEW PUDSEY, ENGLAND
MIDDAY
[A couple are walking down the sidewalk arm in arm.]
VOICEOVER: It was a day like many another, for Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Brainsample, a perfectly ordinary couple leading perfectly ordinary lives. The sort of people to whom nothing extraordinary ever happens. And not the kind of people to be the center of one of the most astounding incidents in the history of mankind. So let's forget about them and follow instead the destiny of this man…
[Camera pans to a man in a business suit walking away from the Brainsample's. He is heading towards his house.]
VOICEOVER: Harold Potter. Gardener, and tax official. First victim of creatures from another planet.
[A UFO is shown flying over the city of London. It stops and hovers
over Potter's house. A beam of light comes down from the craft to
envelop Potter. Suddenly, his clothes turn from a business suit to
Scottish attire with a kilt. His arm raises in front of him, and he
marches, stiff-legged, off camera. Strains of Scotland the Brave
can be heard in the background.]
NEWSPAPER HEADLINE - READ ALL ABOUT IT! MAN TURNS INTO SCOTSMAN!
[Later that day, Mrs. Potter is being interviewed about her husband's disappearance.]
INTERVIEWER: Mrs. Potter, you knew Mr. Potter quite well, didn't you?
WIFE: Oh yes, quite well. He was me husband.
INTERVIEWER: Yes, and he never showed any inclination towards being a Scotsman before this happened?
WIFE: No, no, not at all. He was not that sort of person.
INTERVIEWER: He didn't wear a kilt or play the bagpipes?
WIFE: No no no no no.
INTERVIEWER: He didn't get drunk at nights or bring home black puddings?
WIFE: No no, not at all.
INTERVIEWER: He didn't have an inadequate brain capacity?
WIFE: No, not at all.
INTERVIEWER: I see. So, by your account, Harold Potter was a perfectly ordinary Englishman without any tendency towards being a Scotsman whatsoever.
WIFE: Absolutely. Mind you, he did always watch Dr. Finlay, on the television.
INTERVIEWER: Aha! Well that's it, you see, that's how it starts!
WIFE: I beg your pardon?
INTERVIEWER: Well, Scottishness starts with little things like that. You see, people just don't turn into Scotsmen for no reason at all.
[The interviewer is enveloped in a beam of light, and he exhibits the same behavior as Mr. Potter.]
INTERVIEWER: (in Scottish accent) No further questions!
[He walks off screen. Throughout the day, many more people are
"changed" in this manner. Wee see them all walking stiff-legged, in
kilts, across the English border into Scotland.]
MEANWHILE, BACK IN WASHINGTON
[Mulder is sitting at his desk, eating sunflower seeds. He has a piece of paper in his hand, and is reading it with a growing frown on his face. Scully walks in.]
SCULLY: What's wrong Mulder?
MULDER: Oh, hi Scully. Uh, nothing's wrong. (He quickly hides the paper)
SCULLY: What was that? Let me see it. (She makes a grab for it, but misses.)
MULDER: (heaving a sigh) Alright. I got this letter today from Phoebe Green. (Scully's eyes narrow. Mulder speeds up.) She has a case in England that involves abductions of a curious nature, and she wondered if I…if we could come and give her a hand.
SCULLY: A "curious nature"? Be more specific.
MULDER: (squirming in his chair) Well, there have been several sightings of UFO's hovering over London, and along with that, people have been…
SCULLY: Have been what, Mulder?
MULDER: (sighs) …have been turning into Scotsmen.
[Scully stares at him, and makes no further comment.]
MULDER: Well, Skinner has already authorized it, so I guess we'd
better get going!
THE NEXT DAY
AT HEATHROW AIRPORT
[Mulder and Scully have landed in London and are now awaiting Phoebe's arrival. Scully is staring harshly into the crowd in front of them, and Mulder is alternately rubbing his shoes on the back of his pants legs.]
SCULLY: (spotting Phoebe) Well, here she is.
MULDER: (glances up nervously) Scully, I know you don't particularly like Phoebe, but…
SCULLY: We're on a case, Mulder. That's all I'm here to think about.
MULDER: Right. (Waves to Phoebe)
PHOEBE: (coming up to the agents) Mulder. It's lovely to see you again. (Effectively ignoring Scully for the time being) I trust you are well?
MULDER: I'm fine, Phoebe. (He attempts a smile, and then glances imperceptibly at his partner.)
PHOEBE: (nodding distractedly at Scully) Agent Scully.
[Scully acknowledges her but says nothing.]
PHOEBE: (She has been staring at Mulder, but then realizes it. She switches back into professional mode.) Well, I assume you'd like to check into your hotel and then get to work on this case. Let's go to my car.
[Mulder and Scully follow her, silence settling in around them.]
FAWLTY TOWERS HOTEL
[Forty minutes later, they have arrived at their destination - an inn called Fawlty Towers. It looked nice enough from the outside. Mulder and Scully take their luggage and walk into the lobby, with Phoebe waiting in the car. They arrive at the front desk.]
SCULLY: (Ringing front bell and looking around) Well, Mulder, at least you found us nice accommodations. A quintessential little English hotel.
MULDER: (Starts to correct her, but then thinks better of telling her that Phoebe had picked out the hotel.) I do the best I can.
[A small woman enters from an office behind the front desk. She has an enormous beehive atop her head, and she seems to have been squeezed into her clothing.]
SYBIL: Hello, I'm Sybil Fawlty, can I help you?
MUDLER: Yes, we're here to check in. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.
SYBIL: Oh yes, I remember you two. Well, I've given you adjoining rooms 14 and 15, if you would just please fill out these forms. [Rings front bell.] Manuel!
[A crash is heard from the direction of the kitchen, across the front lobby. A loud English voice exclaims that somebody is a "waste of space". Another crash.]
SYBIL: You'll have to excuse my husband, he's had a rather difficult day. Manuel!
[A small Spanish man in a waiter's uniform comes out from the kitchen, looking flustered.]
SYBIL: Manuel, will you show Mr. Mulder and Ms. Scully to rooms 14 and 15?
MANUEL: (With an exasperated "Ci", he takes some of their luggage.) Thees way, pleez.
[After settling their things in their rooms, the agents make their way back outside to join Phoebe.]
PHOEBE: Is everyone ready? I thought we could go grab a bit of lunch,
and then we'd visit a research lab here in London where a resident
scientist has been studying this for the past few days.
ANTHROPOLOGICAL RESEARCH INSTITUTE
TWO HOURS LATER
[A scientist is caught in an embrace with a leggy blonde woman. They are kissing passionately. Finally, they part.]
BLONDE: Charles?
CHARLES: Yes darling?
BLONDE: Charles, there's something I've got to tell you. Daddy's turned into a Scotsman.
CHARLES: What? Mr. Llewellyn?
BLONDE: Yes, Charles. Help me, please help me!
CHARLES: But what can I do?
BLONDE: But surely Charles, you're the chief scientist at the Anthropological Research Institute at Buckley Down, an expert at what makes people change from one nationality to another.
[Camera pans back to reveal that they are in a sterilized lab with many instruments and beakers and such.
CHARLES: So I am! This is right up my street!
[Charles is cut off in mid-sentence as Mulder, Scully, and Phoebe walk into the room.]
PHOEBE: Dr. Trenton?
CHARLES: (Embarrassed, wiping lipstick off his face. The Blonde retreats into another room.) Yes? How may I help you?
PHOEBE: I am Inspector Phoebe Green, I spoke to you earlier about your work on this Scottish case.
CHARLES: (Still a bit flustered.) Oh, yes, please come in.
PHOEBE: Thank you. These are Agents Mulder and Scully from the FBI.
CHARLES: Good afternoon. Please, have a seat.
MULDER: Thank you. Now, Dr. Trenton, we haven't had too many details about this case, so if you and Phoe…Inspector Green could explain the finer points of it, we'd appreciate it.
PHOEBE: Certainly. The first reports of a UFO sighting over London were four days ago and then the reports of the Scotsmen started. A respected businessman was returning home when he was "overcome", and people reported seeing him in a kilt and marching off with his arm raised in the air. Since then, the reports have been coming in faster than we can deal with.
CHARLES: Now, first of all, why would anyone turn into a Scotsman? Well, the answer I have found is only because he has no control over his own destiny!
SCULLY: (Raising an eyebrow) I see.
CHARLES: Yes. So this means that some person, or persons unknown, are turning all these people into Scotsmen.
MULDER: Well, what kind of heartless being could do that to a man?
PHOEBE: I just don't know. All I know is that these people are streaming north of the border at the rate of thousands every hour. If we don't act fast, Scotland will be choked with Scotsmen!
[We cut to the English/Scottish border, where people are crossing at an alarming rate.]
VOICEOVER: Soon, Scotland was full of Scotsmen. The overcrowding was pitiful. For the few who remained, life was increasingly difficult.
[While the agents and the doctor are discussing things, the Blonde runs into the room.]
BLONDE: Oh Charles, thank goodness I found you. It's Mummy!
CHARLES: (Looking off camera) Hello Mummy.
BLONDE: No Charles, Mummy's turned into a Scotsman!
CHARLES: Oh how horrible.
MULDER: Did Mummy say anything as she changed?
BLONDE: Yes, she did now that you mention it. She said. . . "Them."
SCULLY: Well, she was obviously referring to the people who changed her. If only we knew who "They" were, and why "They" were doing it.
PHOEBE: Who are "Them"?
MEANWHILE IN SCOTLAND
[We see a small stone cottage on a grassy hill. Sheep are grazing outside.]
VOICEOVER: Then, suddenly, a clue turned up in Scotland. Mr. Angus Podgorney, the owner of a Dunbar Menswear Shop, received an order for 48 million kilts from the planet Skyron in the galaxy of Andromeida.
[We see inside of the little stone house. Mr. Podgorney and his wife are sitting.]
MRS. PODGORNEY: Angus, how are you going to get 48 million kilts into the van?
ANGUS: (Looking up from his work) I'll have to do it in two runs.
MRS. PODGORNEY: But don't ye know that the galaxy of Andromeida is 2,200,000 light years away?
ANGUS: Is that so?
MRS. PODGORNEY: Aye, and you've never been farther than
ANGUS: But think of the money, dear! Eighteen £s a kilt - that's...(figures out amount on abacus)...900,000,000 £s! And that's without sporrans!
MRS. PODGORNEY: Ach, I think ye ought not to go, Angus.
ANGUS: Ach, we'll be able to afford writing paper with our names on it! We'll be able to buy that extension to the toilet...
MRS. PODGORNEY: Aye, but he hasn't signed the order yet, has he?
ANGUS: Who?
MRS. PODGORNEY: Ach, the man from Andromeida.
ANGUS: Ach, well, he was not really a man, ye understand.
MRS. PODGORNEY: Not really a man?
ANGUS: He was as strange a thing as I ever laid eyes on, and ever hope to. He was a strange unearthly creature, a quivering, glistening mass.
MRS. PODGORNEY: Angus Podgorney, what do ye mean?
ANGUS: He was not so much a man, as a . . . . . a Blancmange!
[Mrs. Podgorney stares into the camera, as creepy incidental music
fills the air.]
MEANWHILE, AT A POLICE STATION IN LONDON
[An officer is taking a statement from a woman dressed in tennis clothes.]
OFFICER: A Blancmange, eh?
WOMAN: That's right. I was just having a game of doubles with Sandra and Jocasta and Alec and David, when…
OFFICER: Wait a minute. That's five people! You can't play doubles with five people!
WOMAN: Oh, we often play like that. Jocasta plays on the side receiving service. It speeds the game up and it means Jocasta isn't left out.
OFFICER: Look, are you asking me to believe that the five of you were playing doubles, while on the very next court, there was a Blancmange playing by itself?
WOMAN: That's right.
OFFICER: Why didn't Jocasta play the Blancmange at singles, while you
and Sandra and Alec and David had a proper game of doubles?
MEANWHILE, BACK IN SCOTLAND
[Mrs. Podgorney is reacting to her husband's news that a Blancmange has placed an order for 48 million kilts.]
MRS. PODGORNEY: Ach, a Blancmange? And you believed it?
ANGUS: Aye, I did.
MRS. PODGORNEY: Ach, you're a stupid man, Angus Podgorney!
ANGUS: Oh look woman! How many kilts did we sell last year? Nine and a half, that's all! So when I get an order for 48 million, I believe it!
MRS. PODGORNEY: Even if it's from a Blancmange?
ANGUS: If a Blancmange is prepared to come 2,200,000 light years to purchase a kilt, they must be very keen on kilts! We'll be rich! And, he gave me this (produces a piece of paper). It's an entry form for the British Open Tennis Championships at Wimbledon.
MRS. PODGORNEY: Oh, but Angus, you know that the Scotsmen can't play tennis to save their lives!
ANGUS: Maybe not, but I must go dear. I don't want to seem ungrateful. Oh Mary…
[He is cut off as the door creaks open. Mrs. Podgorney approaches the opened door, and the unseen creature standing in it.]
ANGUS: Oh, Mary, look out! Look out!
MRS. PODGORNEY: Oh, aaahh! It's the Blancmange! Aaaaaaaahhhh!!
[She disappears from view, and sounds of chewing can be heard. Angus
looks on in horror.]
FAWLTY TOWERS
[Back at the hotel, Mulder and Scully try to settle in for what will turn out to be a fitful sleep.]
SCULLY: (Walking upstairs with Mulder after dinner) I can't believe what went on in that dining room. What kind of place is this?
MULDER: I have to admit, when he grabbed the dinner roll from that man and threw it across the room, that's when I noticed something was a little odd.
SCULLY: Mulder, the *whole* thing was odd! I mean, he's in there flying off the handle about a roll that could be spoiled, his wife is rambling on about some restaurant in Dorchester, that Spanish waiter is creeping around the place like somebody's going to smack him and I heard the chef singing Camptown Races in the kitchen! The only one who had some semblance of what could be called sanity was that poor blonde waitress!
MULDER: (Chuckling to himself) It did add plenty of color to the evening.
SCULLY: I'll give you my medical opinion, Mulder. Basil Fawlty is a nutcase, a time bomb waiting to go off. With that kind of temper, the man should have been dead years ago.
[They reach their rooms, and are about to enter.]
MULDER: I don't know about you Scully, but I'm locking my door tonight.
[They smile at each other, and retreat into their rooms.]
SEVERAL HOURS LATER
[Scully is awakened by the sounds of scuffling out in the hallway. She checks her gun, and then peeks slowly out the door. Basil Fawlty is making threatening gestures and cursing softly at a closed door.]
SCULLY: (Approaching slowly) Are you alright, Sir?
BASIL: Oh, uh, sorry to have awakened you, but it really is none of your business.
SCULLY: Well, it certainly sounds as though you are in a tight spot.
BASIL: Yes, well, I'm quite used to my wife throwing me out of the room, actually. Nothing to worry about.
[Basil turns around to face her, and suddenly trips over a bucket that Manuel had left lying in the hallway. He goes flying across the hall, and crashes into Scully. In an effort to balance himself, he grabs onto her. They go tumbling backward to crash against the wall.]
BASIL: Oh! I am sorry, I...
[He attempts to pull away, only to find that his watchband has become effectively entangled in the front buttons of her pajamas. Any attempts to extricate themselves only result in further entanglement.]
SCULLY: Oh gosh, I'm...
[Suddenly, two doors open into the hallway. Sybil steps out wearing a nightgown and a bed jacket, and Mulder appears in a tee shirt and boxer shorts. They both stare at 5'2" Scully and 6'5" Basil openmouthed.]
SYBIL: (With a blank look on her face) Basil, if you want to grope the guests, at least have the courtesy to do it in a room and not out in the hallway (she walks back into the bedroom and slams the door).
BASIL: Sybil!!
MULDER: (With raised eyebrows and a sly grin on his face) Why Scully, I didn't know you had a thing for Englishmen (chuckles).
[Scully flashes him a deadly look.]
SCULLY: Will you please just stop smirking, Mulder, and help get us untangled?
MULDER: (Still smiling) With pleasure.
[Mulder manages to untangle them. Scully apologizes briefly to Basil, gives Mulder one more look, and stalks off to her bedroom. Mulder, still chuckling, enters his room. Basil runs off downstairs.]
BASIL: (Looking like he's going to kill the waiter for leaving the
bucket there) Manuel!!!
POLICE STATION, THE NEXT DAY
[Angus is retelling his tale, while Mulder, Scully, and Phoebe listen. He is sniffling and carrying a hanky.]
PHOEBE: Do sit down, Mr. Podgorney. I know what's happened is terribly, terribly funny…(catches herself)…tragic! But you understand that we have to catch the creature that ate your wife, and if you could just help us answer a few questions, we may be able to save a few lives. I know that's how your wife would have wanted it.
ANGUS: Aye, I'll do me best, Sergeant.
PHOEBE: Detective Inspector!! (she slaps him) Now, the facts are these. You received an order for 48 million kilts from a Blancmange from the planet Skyron in the galaxy of Andromeida. You had just shown your wife an entry form for Wimbledon which you had filled in when you turned round and saw her legs disappearing into a Blancmange. Is that correct?
ANGUS: (sniffling) Yes.
SCULLY: Are you mad?
ANGUS: No, Ma'am.
SCULLY: Well that's a relief, because if you were, your story would be less plausible.
PHOEBE: Now then, do you recognize this? (Shows a photograph, seemingly of a Blancmange)
ANGUS: Oh yes! That's the one that ate my Mary! (Buries his head in his hands)
PHOEBE: Good. His name's Reilley. Jack Reilley. He's that most rare of criminals, a Blancmange impersonator and cannibal.
ANGUS: But what about the 48 million kilts and the galaxy of Andromeida?
MULDER: I'm afraid that's just one of his stories. You see, a Blancmange impersonator and cannibal has to concoct some pretty clever stories to allay suspicion.
ANGUS: Then you mean...
MULDER: Yes.
ANGUS: But...
MULDER: How?
ANGUS: Yes.
MULDER: Well...
ANGUS: Not...
MULDER: Could be...
ANGUS: Do you think?
MULDER: Maybe...
ANGUS: But she was...
MULDER: Yes.
[Suddenly the door creaks open. Phoebe moves toward it, ignoring the warning of caution from Mulder. Scully draws her gun.]
PHOEBE: (Seeing that it's the Blancmange) Ah, come to give yourself up, eh Reilley? Reilley? It's not Reilley! It's an extra-terrestrial being, aaaaaaahhhh!!!!!!
[Sounds of chewing follow, as Mulder watches his one-time love being
eaten by the still-unseen Blancmange. Scully, with a little half-smile
on her face, puts her gun back in its holster. The Blancmange turns
around and leaves. After a brief moment of shock, they go back to
questioning Mr. Podgorney.]
ANTHROPOLOGICAL RESEARCH INSTITUTE
A FEW HOURS LATER
MULDER: So, everyone in England is being turned into Scotsmen. Now, which nation is the worst tennis-playing country in the world?
CHARLES: Scotland.
MULDER: Now these Blancmanges, apart from the one that killed Ms. Podgorney, have all appeared in which London suburb?
SCULLY: Wimbledon.
CHARLES: Now, we begin to see the pattern. It all falls into place.
MULDER: Yes! So these Blancmanges, Blancmange-shaped creatures, all come from the planet Skyron in the galaxy of Andromeida. They order 48 million kilts from a Scottish Menswear shop, turn the population of England into Scotsmen, well known as the worst tennis-playing nation on earth…
CHARLES: Thus leaving England empty on Wimbledon fortnight. Empty on Wimbledon fortnight.
SCULLY: What's more, the papers have been full of reports of Blancmanges appearing on tennis courts up and down the country practicing. This can only mean one thing…
VOICEOVER: They mean to win Wimbledon.
MULDER, SCULLY AND CHARLES: They mean to win Wimbledon!
WIMBLEDON
ONE WEEK LATER
[We see that the tennis courts of Wimbledon are conspicuously empty. There are two announcers in a booth. Mulder, Scully, and Charles are sitting on a bench watching the goings-on.]
ANNOUNCER #1: Well, here at Wimbledon, it's been an extraordinary week's tennis. The Blancmanges have been sweeping the board, winning match after match. Here are just some of the results: Billy Jean King, eaten in straight sets; Laver, smothered whole after winning the first set; and Pancho Gonzalez, playing as well as I've ever seen him, was sucked through the net at match point. And so here on the final day, there seem to be no players left to oppose the Blancmanges. And this could be their undoing, as the rules of Wimbledon quite clearly state that there must be at least one human being concerned in the final.
[Mulder, Scully, and Charles are sitting on a bench, watching the games. Suddenly, Mulder jumps up like he's been stung.]
SCULLY: Mulder, what is it?
MULDER: I just had an idea! Wait here, I'll be back!
[Scully and Charles continue to watch the matches.]
ANNOUNCER #2: Well, the Blancmange is coming out onto the pitch now, and, wait...there's a human with it! Yes, it's Angus Podgorney, that plucky little Scottish tailor on whom everything depends. And so it's Podgorney versus Blancmange in this first-ever intergalactic Wimbledon.
[Angus comes out onto the court with the Blancmange, which we see for the first time. It is about waist height, pink, and making sucking noises. Angus looks distinctly nervous.]
ANNOUNCER#1: And the Blancmange serves...and it's good! Fifteen - love.
[We see that Angus certainly is not a good tennis player. He gets hit by serves, he is falling down, while the Blancmange is playing wonderfully. Now it's Angus' turn to serve.]
ANNOUNCER#2: And Podgorney fails to even hit the ball. But this comes as no surprise, since he hasn't hit the ball once throughout this match.
[Angus still tries to serve; he throws the racket instead of the ball, he falls flat on his back, he never hits it.]
ANOUNCER#1: The score is now 6-0, in favor of the Blancmange. This is indeed a grim day for the human race. But what's this? Three people have just rushed onto the pitch, two with spoons and forks! What are they going to do?
MULDER: (Shouting, leading the other two people) They mean to eat the Blancmange! (He joins Scully and Charles on the sidelines.)
[The two people are chasing the Blancmange; finally they corner it, and dig in with their forks.]
ANNOUNCER#1: And they're eating the Blancmange! Yes, it's leaving the court! It's abandoning the game. This is fantastic!
[The Blancmange is apparently dying; the people are quickly devouring
it.]
AFTER THE MATCH
[The two people are sitting on a bench wiping off sticky bits of Blancmange. Mulder, Scully, and Charles are standing next to them.]
VOICEOVER: Yes, it was Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Brainsample, who, after a brief and misleading appearance in the beginning of the film, returned to save the earth. But why?
MR. BRAINSAMPLE: Oh, you see, we love Blancmanges. My wife makes them.
SCULLY: She makes Blancmanges that size?
MR. BRAINSAMPLE: Oh yes. We're from the planet Skyron in the galaxy of Andromeida, and they're all that size there. We tried to tell you in the beginning, but you just panned off us!
VOICEOVER: So the world was saved. And Angus Podgorney became the
first Scotsman to win Wimbledon - fifteen years later.
Thanks to Rachel for her help in the Scully/Basil scene!
