AZIRAPHALE
Oh, really?
CROWLEY
I still prefer the funny ones.
307INT. DUNGEON – REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE – DAY – 1793
TITLE CARD: PARIS, 1793
A dank and unpleasant dungeon. From up high, light through a tiny, barred window.
Through the window we can see the top of a high guillotine . . . And the blade comes down . . .
We hear a CRASH, as of a guillotine blade landing, a head hitting a basket, and a French cheer from a crowd.
This makes Aziraphale, dressed as an upper-class English aristocrat, and chained to a wall, look distinctly uncomfortable.
We hear the guillotine blade being winched up, and the blade appears again in the window.
The door is thrown open. Two large GUARDS show a small EXECUTIONER in. The guards leave.
EXECUTIONER JEAN-CLAUDE
(in French)
Ah, the music of the blade, and the joy of the people. Beautiful, no? Now, let us inspect your neck.
The executioner starts checking out Aziraphale’s neck, estimating the size as if fitting him for a collar.
AZIRAPHALE
Um. Monsieur, c’est une grande mistake, um, erreur. Bit out of practice at French. Je pense que quelquechose—
EXECUTIONER JEAN-CLAUDE
I speak English.
Another guillotine FALL and CRASH and THUMP . . .
EXECUTIONER JEAN-CLAUDE (CONT’D)
Listen to that, the fall of the guillotine blade, is it not terrible?
AZIRAPHALE
Yes. Cutting off that poor woman’s head. Terrible.
EXECUTIONER JEAN-CLAUDE
That is Pierre. An amateur. Always he lets go of the rope too soon. You are lucky that it is I, Jean-Claude, who will remove your traitorous head from your shoulders.
AZIRAPHALE
Look, this is all a terrible mistake. I don’t think you understand . . .
EXECUTIONER JEAN-CLAUDE
English aristo spy. You have perhaps half an hour to live, until you receive the kiss on the neck from your new lover, Madame Guillotine! But I have good news for you: you are the nine hundred and ninety-ninth aristo to die at the guillotine by my hand. But the first English.
He starts loosening Aziraphale’s collar to make sure the neck is nice and available.
We hear the guillotine blade being winched up, and the blade appears again in the window.
Aziraphale pulls away.
AZIRAPHALE
Please, no, dreadful mistake discorporating me, there’s paperwork to fill out when I get back, it’ll be a complete nightmare . . .
Anticipatory cheers from the crowd.
Aziraphale looks out of the window. We see and hear the guillotine blade begin to fall once more, and Aziraphale winces. And then the blade FREEZES . . .
AZIRAPHALE (CONT’D)
Animals!
CROWLEY
Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines, angel. Only humans do that.
AZIRAPHALE
Crowley? Oh good Lord . . .
TIME HAS STOPPED: the executioner is FROZEN in place. Crowley, dressed as a French peasant, albeit a stylish one, is standing immediately behind him.
CROWLEY
What the deuce are you doing locked up in the Bastille? I thought you were opening a bookshop.
AZIRAPHALE
I was. I got peckish.
CROWLEY
Peckish?
AZIRAPHALE
If you must know, it was the crêpes. You can’t get decent ones anywhere but Paris. And brioche . . .
CROWLEY
So you just popped across the Channel during a revolution, because you wanted something to nibble? Dressed like that?
AZIRAPHALE
I have standards. I had heard that they were getting a bit carried away here but . . .
CROWLEY
This is not getting ‘carried away’. This is cutting off lots of people’s heads very efficiently with a big head-cutting machine. Why didn’t you just perform another miracle and go home?
AZIRAPHALE
I was reprimanded last month. They said I’d performed too many frivolous miracles. I got a strongly-worded note from Gabriel.
CROWLEY
You were lucky I was in the area.
AZIRAPHALE
I suppose I am. Why are you here?
CROWLEY
My lot sent me a commendation for outstanding job performance. So I thought I should find out what they were commending me for.
AZIRAPHALE
CROWLEY
Nah. Humans thought it all up themselves. Nothing to do with me. Right.
The chains fall away.
AZIRAPHALE
I suppose I should say thank you. For the, er, rescue.
CROWLEY
Don’t say that. If my people hear I rescued an angel, I’ll be the one in trouble. And my lot don’t send rude notes. They send Hastur. Or Ligur. If you’re lucky.
AZIRAPHALE
Well, anyway, I’m very grateful. What about if I buy you lunch?
CROWLEY
Looking like that?
Aziraphale sighs, then flicks his fingers. Now he is dressed like the executioner, who is in Aziraphale’s clothes.
AZIRAPHALE
Barely counts as a miracle, really.
TIME STARTS. The frozen guillotine blade CRASHES DOWN, a head-fall and a cheer.
The two guards re-enter, and drag the astonished executioner out to (I imagine) his death. Crowley shakes his head.
CROWLEY
Dressed like that, he’s asking for trouble. So what’s for lunch?
AZIRAPHALE
What would you say to some crêpes?
308EXT. ST JAMES’S PARK – DAY – 1862
TITLE CARD: ST JAMES’S PARK, LONDON, 1862
Similar to the previous scene in St James’s Park, but a hundred and fifty years earlier. Now we get Crowley in a tall black hat and huge black coat, tossing bread to the ducks. Aziraphale steps out beside him, looking like a character from Dickens, and tosses some breadcrumbs.
CROWLEY
Look, I’ve been thinking. What if it all goes wrong? We’ve got a lot in common, you and me . . .
AZIRAPHALE
We may both have started out as angels, but YOU are fallen.
CROWLEY
I didn’t really fall. I just, you know, sauntered vaguely downwards. I need a favour.
AZIRAPHALE
We already have the agreement, Crowley. We stay out of each other’s way. Lend a hand when needed . . .
CROWLEY
This is something else. For if it all goes pear-shaped.
AZIRAPHALE
I like pears.
CROWLEY
If it all goes wrong. I want insurance.
AZIRAPHALE
. . . What?
CROWLEY
I wrote it down. Walls have ears. Not walls. But trees have ears. Ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears? Must do. That’s how they hear other ducks.
He hands a slip of paper to Aziraphale. Aziraphale opens it, looks down, then . . .
AZIRAPHALE
Out of the question.
CROWLEY
Why not?
AZIRAPHALE
It would destroy you. I’m not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley.
CROWLEY
That’s not what I want it for. Just . . . insurance . . .
The paper says, in Crowley’s handwriting, HOLY WATER.
AZIRAPHALE
I’m not an idiot, Crowley. Do you know what trouble I’d get into if they knew I’d been fraternising? It’s completely out of the question.
CROWLEY
Fraternising?
AZIRAPHALE
Whatever you wish to call it. I do not think there is any point in discussing it further.
CROWLEY
I have lots of other pe
ople to fraternise with, angel.
AZIRAPHALE
Of course you do.
CROWLEY
I don’t need you.
AZIRAPHALE
The feeling is mutual. Obviously.
CROWLEY
Obviously.
Aziraphale flicks the paper into the pond. It bursts into flame as it hits the water.
309EXT. A CHURCH – NIGHT – 1941
The church, an imposing Hawksmoor-type London church, has its windows blacked out.
Aziraphale, dressed 1941-style, hurries up the steps to the church, carrying a package. We hear an air raid siren start in the background.
310INT. A CHURCH – NIGHT – 1941
TITLE CARD: LONDON, 1941
A church. Two men are waiting at a small card table set up at the end of the aisle, before we get up to the altar. We are in the final act of a spy drama, and we know these people already: GLOZIER, the pudgy fat-man-type, and HARMONY, the Peter Lorre-ish sidekick. Both very well dressed, both Nazi spies who speak English without an accent, but in the manner of people who learned it formally. Aziraphale comes down the aisle.
AZIRAPHALE
Mr Glozier? Mr Harmony?
GLOZIER
Mr Fell. You are late, but not to worry.
HARMONY
You have the books for the Führer?
AZIRAPHALE
I do, yes.
He puts the package down. Mr Harmony opens them, examines each book and puts it in front of Mr Glozier. As he does so, Aziraphale names the books . . .
AZIRAPHALE (CONT’D)
Books of Prophecy. Otwell Binns, Robert Nixon, Mother Shipton. First editions. As requested.
HARMONY
What about the other book we told you to bring us? The Führer was most definite that he needed it. It has the prophecies that are true. With the true prophecies book, the war is as good as won.
AZIRAPHALE
The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. No luck. I’m afraid that’s the Holy Grail of prophetic books.
GLOZIER
The Führer also wants the Holy Grail. And the Spear of Destiny. If you run across them.
HARMONY
Why are there no copies of Agnes Nutter’s book? We have made it clear that money is no object. You will be a very rich man.
AZIRAPHALE
The unsold copies of Nice and Accurate Prophecies were destroyed by the publisher, which is, um, all of them. It never sold a single copy. But I found the publisher’s catalogue for 1655, and it did list one of Agnes Nutter’s prophecies.
HARMONY
What was it?
AZIRAPHALE
Her prophecy for 1972. ‘Do not buy Betamacks.’
GLOZIER
Who is Peter Max?
AZIRAPHALE
I have no idea.
HARMONY
I will pass it on to the Führer.
GLOZIER
These volumes of prophecy will be in Berlin by the end of the week. The Führer will be most grateful.
HARMONY
You have been most helpful, Mr Fell. Here is your money. Count it. It is all there.
He pushes a paper bag across the table.
AZIRAPHALE
Jolly good.
But before Aziraphale can look in the bag, Glozier pulls a gun on him.
GLOZIER
Such a pity you must be eliminated, Mr Fell. But take heart. Just another death in the Blitz.
AZIRAPHALE
That’s not very sporting.
GLOZIER
You do not appear worried, my friend.
The TIP TAP TIP TAP of high heeled shoes down the aisle. They all look up. A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN in 1940s clothes, holding a gun, is walking towards them.
WOMAN SPY
He’s not worried.
HARMONY
Who is she?
Aziraphale is very proud of himself.
AZIRAPHALE
She, my double-dealing Nazi acquaintance, is the reason why none of these books are ever going to Berlin, and why your nasty little spy ring will be spending the rest of the war behind bars. Let me introduce you to Captain Rose Montgomery of British Military Intelligence.
ROSE
(very English)
Thank you for the introduction.
AZIRAPHALE
Our side know all about you two. She recruited me to ‘work’ for you. Now, she’s going to tell you that this building is surrounded by British agents, and that you two have been – what’s that lovely American expression? Played for suckers.
ROSE
Yes, about that . . .
AZIRAPHALE
Right everyone! Come on! Round them up! Rose, where exactly are your people?
HARMONY
We are all here.
GLOZIER
Allow me to introduce Fräulein Greta Kleinschmidt. She works with us.
(in German, to Greta)
You fooled the shithead bookseller. Good job, darling.
ROSE/GRETA
(in German)
It wasn’t hard, darling. He’s very gullible.
Harmony is putting the books into a large leather bag.
HARMONY
Played for a sucker. I must remember that. I am played for a sucker, you are played for a sucker, he, she or it will be played for a sucker . . .
GLOZIER
Where were we? Oh yes. Killing you.
AZIRAPHALE
You can’t kill me! There will be paperwork!
Greta raises her gun, points it dispassionately at Aziraphale. And then we HEAR CROWLEY’S VOICE. He’s going, ‘Ow!’
CROWLEY
Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow-ow-ow! Ow!
They all turn around. Crowley is walking down the aisle towards them, walking amazingly gingerly. He has nice snakeskin shoes, but is still walking like a man in bare feet on very hot sand.
CROWLEY (CONT’D)
Sorry! Ow! Consecrated ground! It’s like being at the beach in bare feet.
AZIRAPHALE
What are you doing here?
CROWLEY
Stopping you getting into trouble. Ow!
AZIRAPHALE
I should have known. Of course. These people are working for you.
CROWLEY
No! They’re a bunch of half-witted Nazi spies running about London, blackmailing and murdering people. I just didn’t want to see you embarrassed. Ow! Ow!
Crowley has now reached them, but he’s doing a sort of a dance, standing in place.
GLOZIER
The mysterious Anthony J. Crowley. Your fame precedes you.
Aziraphale is softening. They haven’t spoken in a hundred years: he’s realising they are still friends.
AZIRAPHALE
Anthony?
CROWLEY
You don’t like it?
AZIRAPHALE
No. I didn’t say that. I’ll get used to it.
GRETA/ROSE
The famous Mr Crowley? Such a pity you must both die.
AZIRAPHALE
What does the J stand for?
CROWLEY
It’s just a J, really. Look at that. A whole font-full of holy water. It doesn’t even have guards.
GLOZIER
Enough babbling! Kill them both.
CROWLEY
In about a minute a German bomber will release a bomb that will land right here. If you all run away very VERY fast, you might not die. You won’t enjoy dying, and you definitely won’t enjoy what comes after.
GLOZIER
You expect us to believe that? The bombs tonight will fall on the East End.
CROWLEY
(hinting hard)
It would take a last-minute demonic intervention to throw them off course, yes. You are wasting all your valuable running-away time. But if, in thirty seconds, a bomb does land here, it would take a real miracle for my friend and I to survive it.
AZIRAPHALE
A real miracle?
CROWLE
Y
Yes.
HARMONY
Kill them! They are very irritating.
Greta raises her gun and is about to shoot Aziraphale when – BOOM – HUGE EXPLOSION. FIRE AND LIGHT AND THINGS BEING BLOWN AROUND. SO COOL AN EXPLOSION THAT I AM TYPING IN CAPITALS.
They look up and the screen goes black.
311EXT. THE RUBBLE – NIGHT – 1941
Smoke and dust blow away, to reveal . . . we’re outside, because the walls of the church have gone. There is dust in the air. Crowley polishes his dark glasses with a handkerchief and puts them back on.