As a tribute to mark the death of the late Beatrix Potter, Give 'Em Beans! in conjunction with Whistle Happy Productions Ltd. presents another chance to read the critically acclaimed...
Referee Joe McFuddle as... The SINGING REFEREE
Cue terrible harmonica music. "A breathtaking through ball from Holden finds Dobie free on the left, with ten minutes remaining here at Wembley. He skips past one Enfield player, two, and sends over an ambitious cross, but it's McFuddle timing his run perfectly on the far post, it's McFuddle... he outleaps his marker and powers a header into the corner of the net. What a... goaaall!" Twenty thousand Barrow fans over to our right celebrate wildly now and chant their hero's name. "McFuddle... McFuddle... McFuddle... Mr. McFuddle... Mr. McFuddle... wake up Mr. McFuddle, it's time for me to cream you again." Joe: Oh, good morning nurse, I've been having the dreams again. Nurse: Yes, Mr. McFuddle, try not to excite yourself, your temperature's sky high again. Now onto your back and I'll cream the rest of you. Joe: But it's so embarrassing, nurse. Nurse: Don't worry, I've seen it all before. Just undo your pyjamas. Tsk, tsk. How long did you fall asleep in the sun for, Mr. McFuddle? Joe: I was listening to the test match on the wireless. England had just gone in to bat. I must have nodded off in the deck chair. When I woke up they were all out and I was sore all over. Nurse: Yes, Mr. McFuddle, twenty minutes in strong sunlight can cause... ooh, Mr. McFuddle, is that a linesman's flag in your bottoms or are you just pleased to see me? Joe turns despairingly to the patient in the next bed, a decrepit old man shaking uncontrollably. He tries to talk to Joe... Old Man: Fff-fuh-fu-fuh... fuh-fuh-fu-fu... Joe turns to camera, starts to mime to The Smiths' 'Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now'. Joe: "I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour..." Cut to Ormsgill reservoir. Police officers in a small rowing boat struggle to haul in a body from the murky water. The corpse is clad in flimsy lingerie, a corset and a groin support. In Fedora hat and raincoat, Joe watches... Voiceover from Joe in transatlantic drawl... "Another casualty here in Bluesville. Was it a fall, or was it a push and does anyone care any more in a town twinned with Atlantis. See that road up there? That's Wilkie Road; named after a guy who could have walked across these waters, unlike this poor sucker. So who is this guy sleeping with the fishes? Judging by the bizarre underwear, it's a Mr. McKenna or a Mr. Heesom for sure." The police rowing boat gently bumps the quayside. Joe peeks at the tangled mass of weeds, mud and lingerie. He rolls the body onto its back and clears some algae from the face of... Dicky Dinnis! Joe turns to face camera... "Tricky Dicky... my hunch was correct! As usual, am I right or am I right? Yeah, the referee is always right." (He starts to mime to Brian Hyland's 'Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini'. "She was afraid to come out of the water; she was afraid to..." Unnoticed in the background, two sinister gangster types watch on... unmoving. Cut to Alfred Barrow Junior School. A young Joe is sitting in his desk in a state of high anxiety as Miss Higginbotham, that frightful hag of a schoolmistress, interrogates her class. Miss H: I'll ask you all again, children. Who did it? Who did this terrible, terrible thing? (silence) One of you knows who did this wicked and sinful deed... Who was it...? (longer silence) Very well, join hands and we will ask Almighty God himself to show us the guilty one among us. Dear Lord, please show us in your infinite wisdom, who did this terrible thing; who pulled down our lovely and historic grandstand? The tension is unbearable. Young Joe, sweating profusely, twitches. It is enough to seal his fate... Miss H: Stand up, Joe McFuddle. Young Joe: T'weren't me, miss. Miss H: Did you do this terrible thing; this sin against God? Young Joe: T'weren't me, miss. Miss H: But you know who did it, don't you boy? Young Joe: Yes miss, t'weren't me miss, I was up floodlight, miss. Miss H: Well, who did it then boy? Point out the culprit... NOW! Joe turns to face the whole class and points to a terrified curly haired young boy. Young Joe: It was Binny, Miss... ...Binny McCullough! Young Binny slowly rises to his feet, camera zooms in. Binny opens his mouth and starts to sing Sam Cooke's 'Stand By Me'. Binny: "When the night has come; and the land is dark..." Cut to Harry Hindpool's luxury penthouse in downtown Barrow. Harry Hindpool: Please help me, I've had writer's block since issue 018. He must have written something for the Christmas special. Mrs. McFuddle (for it is she): I'm telling you he just makes it up in five minutes flat... but hang on, he did mention something about a referee who is also a turn at the working men's clubs... He goes into hospital with his corns or something and they drive him barmy till he has hallucinations about his life. I can find out more tomorrow at visiting time. Harry Hindpool: Yes! Then I can claim it as my own. I will be the toast of the literary world... they might even give me a free copy of Beans! or let me be a seller outside the ground. Ha, ha, ha! They embrace and launch into a song and dance routine to the Monkees' 'Daydream Believer'... Both: "Oh, I could hide 'neath the wings of the bluebird as she sings; the six o'clock alarm..." Watching the gyrating shadows at the window from the rainswept street below, the two hitmen bide their time. But for whom does the bell toll...? Cut back to hospital ward. Joe, being pushed in a wheelchair, turns to the old man in the next bed. Joe: I'm off to the shrink, pop. They're going to explore around inside my skull... but they won't find anything. Old Man: Ff...fuh-fu-fufuh-fuh... The nurse pushes Joe to the psychiatric ward. As they pass the waiting room, two newspapers descend in tandem. The hitmen watch Joe go by, at their feet two violin cases. Psychiatrist: That's it, Mr. McFuddle, lie down and relax... Now, tell me about your childhood. Joe: I remember going to watch Barrow... Psychiatrist: I want to try some word association now Mr. McFuddle, but first, did you ever see your father naked? Joe: It was frightening, but the atmosphere was electric... I was hooked. I remember one match against Plymouth... Psychiatrist: (ahem!)... 'Argument.' Joe: No... Argyle! Anyway, the ref scored the winning goal for us. I knew then, that moment, that I wanted to be a... Psychiatrist: '...Cabbage.' Joe: ...Referee. Psychiatrist: Hmmm, good, Mr. McFuddle... very good... Cue music into Deacon Blue's 'Real Gone Kid'. Joe takes oo-ooh, oo-ooh chorus, psychiatrist jumps onto couch and starts ripping up his notebook, miming and dancing to the song... Psychiatrist: "And I'd tear out the pages; that I've got in these books..." Cut to Barrow Island's exclusive Municipal Club. Joe is on stage crooning Barrow's Conference anthem 'There'll Be Bluebirds Over the White Shirts of Dover'. Suddenly a woman's scream halts the music, a table is overturned and chaos ensues as the two hitmen rush the stage spraying automatic gunfire at the tuxedo'd singer. The gunmen discharge their deadly loads as the audience scrambles for safety. They unleash a deafening two minute apocalypse of flying fragmenting lead, wood and glass. But as the smoke clears, the two merchants of doom stare in open-mouthed wonder at the unruffled, urbane figure on stage. Suddenly they slump comically to the floor, their brimmed hats askew, at last revealing their identities. Camera goes close up on Joe for his monologue... "I knew it was those guys... Graham 'Golden Boots' Gill and Peter 'Predator' King. That would explain the shooting; killed by ricochet... nice work, Ric. They never could hit the target. Am I right or am I right... yeah, the referee's always right. Now for my encore (sings)... "Two little boys had two little toys..." Cut to hospital ward. Joe, fully dressed, looking radiant and checking out. He turns to the old man. Joe: Well pop, that's me all cured and ready for action. You take care now, pop, so long. Old Man: F-ff-fu-full time, ref? Patients leap out of bed to join Joe in a rousing finale of AFC's NPL anthem 'Let's All Have a Disco'. All: "Let's all have a disco; let's all have a disco; na-na-na-na; na-na-na-na..." Cue terrible harmonica music and fade. Roll credits... Written by HARRY HINDPOOL Based on the book of the same name by HARRY HINDPOOL Produced and directed by HARRY HINDPOOL Issue 021 - January 1995