Opening without the usual credit sequence but with a marvellous crane shot of a cemetery, we swoop down to find the staff flocked around a grave while a bell tolls in the nearby church, a wreath saying "To a Great Newsman" in Dave's arms, and Henry nowhere in sight as they say their goodbyes (Sally: "If you'll excuse me, I'm just going to go and share my grief with those photographers").
Of course, even at the time, I don't think anybody believed for a second it was Henry in the grave, and he pops into frame in short order to commiserate over the loss of "Ted", a fellow roisterer, it seems. This is not a cue for soul-searching on Henry's part, however; it's a cue to get drunk, and to try to pull Ted's rather attractive widow, Susan (until Dave steers him, with unusual sensitivity, toward the catering girls instead). Thus begins their episode-long epic bender: "We are going to leave no drink undrunk, no girl unrogered, and no Hare Krishna unpunched!"
For this episode, the soul-searching is left to Gus, new to funerals and feeling his mortality, and inspired by a tome called Forever On Five Dollars A Day to stave off his death with constant aerobic activity. For which, read: subjecting one staff member after another to a never- ending game of squash.
After the initial set-up, there is no major plot - no news story requiring the office's attention (which is handy, since Helen is working with half her staff missing). Without any major emotional turmoil or drama to be had, the show is free to fill half an hour with classic character writing and set up its magnificent punch line.
The staff entertain themselves with mutual torture: Joy taking Damien's precious Porsche for "a burn along the dual carriageway" and "cutting up panda cars" ("Don't worry. I lost him doing a three-point-turn in the underpass"). George rehearsing for his amateur dramatics production of Romeo and Juliet (and seeing his part slowly cut down to "understudy to the prompter"). Sally's delight at being due to sit behind Prince Charles at a Royal Gala performance ("I want to make a good impression... After all, you never know!") and walking out the office door in a full ballgown with the words "Camilla is a Slut" pinned to her back.
Strange that an episode in which nothing really happens should feel so incredibly satisfying.
Of course, even at the time, I don't think anybody believed for a second it was Henry in the grave, and he pops into frame in short order to commiserate over the loss of "Ted", a fellow roisterer, it seems. This is not a cue for soul-searching on Henry's part, however; it's a cue to get drunk, and to try to pull Ted's rather attractive widow, Susan (until Dave steers him, with unusual sensitivity, toward the catering girls instead). Thus begins their episode-long epic bender: "We are going to leave no drink undrunk, no girl unrogered, and no Hare Krishna unpunched!"
For this episode, the soul-searching is left to Gus, new to funerals and feeling his mortality, and inspired by a tome called Forever On Five Dollars A Day to stave off his death with constant aerobic activity. For which, read: subjecting one staff member after another to a never- ending game of squash.
After the initial set-up, there is no major plot - no news story requiring the office's attention (which is handy, since Helen is working with half her staff missing). Without any major emotional turmoil or drama to be had, the show is free to fill half an hour with classic character writing and set up its magnificent punch line.
The staff entertain themselves with mutual torture: Joy taking Damien's precious Porsche for "a burn along the dual carriageway" and "cutting up panda cars" ("Don't worry. I lost him doing a three-point-turn in the underpass"). George rehearsing for his amateur dramatics production of Romeo and Juliet (and seeing his part slowly cut down to "understudy to the prompter"). Sally's delight at being due to sit behind Prince Charles at a Royal Gala performance ("I want to make a good impression... After all, you never know!") and walking out the office door in a full ballgown with the words "Camilla is a Slut" pinned to her back.
Strange that an episode in which nothing really happens should feel so incredibly satisfying.
