Customer (John Cleese): Good Morning.
Shopkeeper (Michael Palin): Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the UKIP Policy Emporium!
C: Thank you my good man.
S: What can I do for you, sir?
C: Well, I was sitting in the public library on Thurman Street just now, skimming through ‘Rogue Herries’ by Hugh Walpole, and I suddenly came over all reflective.
S: Reflective, sir?
C: Ee, I were all thoughtful-like!
S: Ah, thoughtful!
C: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself, ‘I wonder what all this palaver about UKIP is’, so, I curtailed my Walpoling activites, sallied forth, and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some political documentation!
S: Come again?
C: I want to see UKIP’s policies.
S: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the morris dancers!
C: Oh, heaven forbid: I am one who delights in all manifestations of the Terpsichorean muse!
C: I like a nice dance, you’re forced to!
S: So, they can go on dancing, can they?
C: Most certainly! Now then, some policies please, my good man.
S: Certainly, sir. What would you like?
C: Well, er, how about a little Economic Strategy?
S: I’m, afraid we’re fresh out of Economic Strategy, sir.
C: Oh, never mind, how are you on Renewables?
S: I’m afraid we never have that at the end of the week, sir, get it fresh on Monday.
C: Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, twelve pages of NHS, if you please.
S: Ah! It’s been on order, sir, for two weeks. Was expecting it this morning.
C: It’s Not my lucky day, is it? Technology?
S: Sorry, sir.
S: Normally, sir, yes. Today the van broke down.
C: Abortion? Energy?
C: Any Equal Opportunities, perchance?
C: Assisted Suicide?
C: Child Support?
C: Licensing Laws?
S: (pause) No.
C: Social Security?
C: Same-sex marriage?
S: Definitely not.
C: Deficit, Income Tax, Fuel Duty, Employment, the Welfare State?
C: Immigration, perhaps?
S: Ah! We have Immigration, yes, sir.
C: (suprised) You do! Excellent.
S: Yessir. It’s ah… it’s a bit racist.
C: Oh, I like it racist.
S: Well,.. It’s very racist, actually, sir.
C: No matter. Fetch hither the policy of the Third Reich!
S: I…think it’s a bit more racist than you’d like it, sir.
C: I don’t care how fucking racist it is. Hand it over with all speed.
C: What now?
S: The cat’s eaten it.
C: Has he?
S: She, sir.
C: War on Terror?
C: United Nations?
C: Hard Drugs?
S: No sir.
C: You… do have some policies, don’t you?
S: (brightly) Of course, sir. It’s a policy shop , sir. We’ve got-
C: No, no, don’t tell me. I’m keen to guess.
S: Fair enough.
C: er… Euthanasia.
C: Ah, well, I’ll have some of that!
S: Oh! I thought you were talking to me, sir. Mister Euthanasia, that’s my name.
C: Climate Change?
S: Not as such.
C: Free Trade?
C: Nuclear Power?
C: Overseas Aid?
S: Not today, sir, no.
C: Aah, how about Crime?
S: Well, we don’t get much call for it around here, sir.
C: Not much ca–It’s the single most popular policy in the world!
S: Not ’round here, sir.
C: (slight pause) and what IS the most popular policy ’round here?’
S: Europe, sir.
C: Is it.
S: Oh, yes, it’s staggeringly popular in this manor, squire.
C: Is it.
S: It’s our number one best seller, sir!
C: I see. Uuh… ‘Europe’, eh?
S: Right, sir.
C: All right. Okay. ‘Have you got any?’ He asked, expecting the answer ‘no’.
S: I’ll have a look, sir… nnnno.
C: It’s not much of a policy shop, is it?
S: Finest in the district sir!
C: Explain the logic underlying that conclusion, pray.
S: Well, it’s so clean, sir!
C: It’s certainly uncontaminated by policy.
S: You haven’t asked me about Terrorism, sir.
C: Is it worth it?
S: Could be.
C: Have you –SHUT THAT BLOODY MORRIS DANCING UP!
S: Told you, sir…
C: Have you got any Terrorism?
C: Figures. Predictable, really I suppose. It was an act of purest optimism to have posed the question in the first place……. Tell me:
S: Yes, sir?
C: Have you in fact got any policies here at all?
S: Yes, sir.
S: No. Not really, sir.
C: You haven’t.
S: No, sir. Not a scrap. We destroyed all our 2010 policies ‘cos they were dodgy. I was deliberately wasting your time, sir.
C: Well I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to shoot you.
S: Right-oh, sir. [BANG]
C: What a senseless waste of human life.