MATTER OF FACT TOMMY AND TUPPENCE

[Quincey]

Major Carter: Now look here Tommy, even though I've got dozens of highly trained agents who would be more suited, I want you to look for a gang of infiltrators in the Labour Party Leadership Contest

Tommy: I thought you would want the Labour Party to be infiltrated so the Tories would be in power at the next election. After all, David Cameron really is the sort of chap a 1950's middle class chap like me should back. He's going to cut taxes on Homburg hats and ensure that all those poor people stand on their own two feet, even if they can't afford to.

Major Carter: What I want and what the country needs are too different things. Now - not a word of this to Tuppence, even though she's more capable than you. For she's a lady, and this is the 1950's.

Tommy: Yes, Uncle.

Major Carter: Here is a membership list, Tommy. I want you to find everyone on this list who shouldn't be voting. Anyone who is a member of another political party, voted for another political party, has looked at another political party or likes beards. And not a word to Tuppence! We've got three one hour episodes to pad out, and I don't want her getting involved from the beginning and solving the case in the first episode.

Tommy: Okay, uncle.

AT TOMMY AND TUPPENCE'S DREARY YET OPULENT HOUSE

Tuppence: Penny for your thoughts?

Tommy: No Tuppence, I'm not thinking of Penny. Or my other ex-girlfriend Sixshillingsandfourpence.

Tuppence: I meant that you are up to something, Thomas Beresford.

[Quincey]

TUPPENCE: Well, Tommy! I have cracked the code in Major Carter's tweets to you. I will pretend to be Doris Halifax, a Labour Party member from the shipyards. You will be Fred Caricature, a draftsman from Guffington's Department Store.

TOMMY: A draftsman?

TUPPENCE: Yes, Tommy, someone who creates the drafts needed for the in-store trumps to properly travel.

TOMMY: I know what a draftsman is Tuppence. Why can't I be a beekeeper?

TUPPENCE: We are dealing with people who were able to outsmart rules created by Harriet Harman, Tommy. These people are some of the most clever criminal minds in Britain. And they're probably allied with Russia as well. Every criminal has some connection to Russia, as far as I'm concerned.

TOMMY: Personally I think my business of wigs for bees will outfox even the most determined entryist.

TUPPENCE: Now, the middle class 1950's detective's kit for being among lefties. A T-shirt, interchangeable between Jeremy Corbyn and Yvette Cooper's logos. Box of lentils, herbal cigars, Derek Hatton underpants and mirror to check your privilege in. 

TOMMY: Tuppence! We are not detectives. I'm not sure what we do aside from hang around with seedy Major Carter and try to sell the occassional wig, but we are not detectives. All we are doing is helping Major Carter look into infiltration of the Commie Scum, I mean Labour Party. Pipe of shag tobacco?

[DangledTeeth]

(Apologies, I haven't watched this nor have I looked properly into it)

Partners in Crime 2015

Int. Posh Train

Tuppence: I believe that Mr Alderforth is embezzling his assets at the municipal factory. Our first objective is to interview his brother.

Tommy: IF YE WAS TAE AHSK ME ON A MOHNDAY I'D SAY: UHYEEEAAS!

Tuppence: Eh?

Tommy (Pretends to play a piccolo to background track): What do the magic sprrrrrites have to say? (Moves ear near a teapot) The maalk has curdled becuz someone forgot to tell the heedmahstress!

Tuppence: You're making no sense, you silly man.

Tommy: Compu'er sez naooooooh!

Tuppence: What the ruddy twit is a computer?

Tommy (Holds a phone to his ear): Hello Sue, it's LLLLinnnnda. I've got a student here called Jessica Raine who says she can't make next Tuesday's Drama Production seminar. You know Jessica... Oval face... pretty but stoic... yeah, looks like the type you'd see sipping a craft ale in a London gastro pub, probably listens to Fleetwood Mac, Tom Waits and Hot Chip. Yes. Ha-ha that's her. Ok, thanks. Bye.

Tuppence: What the copulate are you on about?

Tommy: YOUR BABY IZ SAFE!

Tuppence: This is a crime drama, not a watchable yet distinctly average sketch series.

Tommy: Oh what a cuntfuckfle!

THE END

[Quincey]

TOMMY: Tuppence! Tuppence!

TUPPENCE: What is it, Tommy? Has Albert's test tube exploded everywhere again?

TOMMY: We've been married for years now, my little denomination of coinage. Can't we put the beds together and...do the youknow again?

TUPPENCE: The youknow, Thomas Beresford?

TOMMY: Yes! The youknow.

TUPPENCE: Thomas Beresford!