The Wipers Times

It's probably

the finest in the world.

It's a manual, pedal-operated

printing machine

patented in 1872 by Josiah Wade.

Manufactured in Halifax,

subsequently sold all over the

world.

In short, it's a work of art.

So, shall we smash it up?

No. Stupid, Dodd.

Look, it's even got the blocks and

the trays of type.

Go on, stick that over there, Smith.

How on earth do you know all this,

Harris?

I was a printer in civvy street,

sir.

Good grief.

You kept quiet about that.

Well, it didn't seem relevant to

fighting Fritz, sir.

No. But it might be now.

Can you make this work?

Well, I mean,

she's not been used for a while.

The type's all over the countryside.

There's a few unwelcome visitors.

But give it a bit of time, reckon

so, sir. Yes, sir.

How's it work then, Sar'nt?

Well, you stick

the ink on that plate there.

And the rollers come down onto

the block there.

Paper goes in there.

Don't touch it.

Very interesting.

What are we going to do with it?

We're going to borrow it.

Isn't that looting?

No, no. It's temporary requisitioning

of civilian

facilities for military purposes.

Oh, right. Sounds like looting.

Have you ever done any journalism,

Pearson?

Good God, no! Excellent.

Me neither.

Because what we're going to do, is

we're going to produce a newspaper.

Aren't we, Sergeant? If you say so,

sir.

What, like the Daily Mail?

I was thinking something

rather more accurate.

The Times?

The Wipers Times.

Move it, lads! Move it!

We've got plenty of ink,

plenty of paper.

In fact, according to Harris,

the only thing

we seem to be lacking is "copy".

Uh-huh. None of us is writing men.

We haven't done any journalism.

There's a first time for everything.

It can't be that hard.

I think we should aim to produce

something a bit like Punch,

Rate this script:(0.00 / 0 votes)