Carry On Larking

 In a wonderful instance of life imitating art, this recent story in the papers seems to show that when it comes to having a rollicking good wheeze at the expense of the taxpayer, nobody competes with the Senior Service. Of course, when I say "art", I really mean the glorious British tradition of comic film, tv and radio where no institution is sacred.

source: The Independent

We've seen them dealing with a nasty leak. We've followed them into the war-torn waters of the Gulf. It looks like we need to go round again.

Scene: The choppy waters of the English Channel somewhere near, but conveniently out of sight of, Portsmouth. The bridge of a certain warship seems remarkably quiet as the officers go professionally about their duties, hunched over their instruments.

CPO Pertwee:  (to himself). Come on, come on, just a little bit more ...ease it off there ...that's got it just where I want it, lovely.
Sub-lieutenant Phillips: (to himself) I say, jolly well done, straight back over the bowler's head.
Distorted voice over loudspeaker Lookout here. Boat approaching, looks like the commander with some other geezer.
Pertwee: Oo-er, he's back early.
Phillips: I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, chief. Probably giving a friend a joy ride.
Distorted voice. Just to let you know, the Commander's friend is wearing rather a lot of pips. And carrying a clipboard
Pertwee: I'm not sure about this, Mr Philips, not sure at all, sir. Perhaps we should make ourselves scarce.
Phillips: Yes, chief, good idea and all that but, correct me if I'm wrong, aren't we supposed to be on watch?
Pertwee: Watching out for ourselves is what we should be doing right now, sir
Bosun's whistle heralds return of Commander Murray and guest
Pertwee: Whoops, too late
Murray: Through here, sir. You'll find my officers hard at work and totally in control. Gentlemen, this is Commodore Chumbleton, very high up in Naval Intelligence. Nothing gets past you, eh, Commodore?
Phillips: (sotto voce). Oh, lummee
Chumbleton: Just carry on as usual gentlemen. I'm just reviewing our state of readiness for, well, anything really, we haven't the faintest idea what might take place, anything can happen at sea, what, what, what.
Pertwee: What?
Chumbleton: That's the spirit. Now then, CPO, that screen looks jolly interesting. Seems to be some of wiring diagram - what's this say here "Plan of security lock, Atkinson's Jewellers". Well, I'm sure you have a perfectly sound reason for examining it, but isn't this supposed to be the short-wave radar screen thingy?
Murray: Yes, chief, I seem to recall we did used to have a short wave radar screen but, um, there's a  really important reason why we don't. Perhaps you could remind us.
Pertwee: Being tested, sir. In the special bay. Where the radioactivity levels are up dangerously high, so you really don't want to go anywhere near that, sir. This screen here is a medium wave radar replacement, nuffink like as risky as the other, just happens to be tuned to a frequency that matches the jeweller's computers and so of course their lock details get displayed.
Chumbleton: I see. Yes, that makes perfect sense. And the sub-lieutenant ...
Murray: Phillips, sir
Chumbleton: Phillips. I'm no expert, I leave that sort of thing to my technical people, but that looks very much like a cricket match.
Phillips: I know. It's amazing. And we managed to rig it up without having to pay a subsc...I mean, it's some of interference on the VHF band...er, isn't it, chief?
Pertwee: Yes, sir, these systems are so sophisticated they can pick up television channels, like Netflix or Sky, and display them even while doing all the rest of the normal navy stuff sort of in the background.
Chumbleton: Are you saying that is the tactical weapons status screen? Why don't you fix it?
Phillips: Well sir, to be frank, all those numbers going up and down the screen give me a bit of a headache.
Chumbleton: Must admit, I get them as well. So everything is perfectly alright here, then?
Phillips: Tickety-boo, sir.
Pertwee: Everything is just as it normally is, sir.
Murray: Shall we have a pink gin in the officers' mess now, sir? You certainly don't want Mr Phillips to change the channel and start all those little squiggly things dancing up and down, not in these rough seas.
Chumbleton: Lead on, Commander Murray.