davywavy | The A-Team

A few years ago, brother bought me some A-Team DVDs for Christmas and I dig them out occasionally when I'm in need of a 'return to childhood' fix. Watching them now, it's difficult to appreciate what a cultural phenomenon the show was in its heyday - in 1984 it was pulling a UK TV audience approaching 20 million people every week, a number only beaten by major Soap-Opera event episodes and the royal wedding.

Watching an episode now, I started wondering just how much of the attraction of the show was the then-exotic location of the Los Angeles and the excitment of that; the crimes the team tackle are mostly pretty crap and so it's not the 'big crime' effect attracting audience, so it must be something else, right? How popular would the show have been if it had been set in, say, Yorkshire?

In 1972, a crack commando unit was sentenced to 200 hours community service by Thurnscoe magistrates court for a crime they didn't commit. The promptly escaped to the Kilnhurst underground, where they survive as soldiers of fortune. And now, if you have a problem, if nobody else can help, and if you go into the pool room at the back of the Saracens Head in Mexborough on a Saturday night , maybe you can hire...the A-Team.

Titles.

Scene: Interior: The Saracen's Head, Mexborough. John "Hannibal" Smith, BA Baracus, and "Howling Mad" Murdoch are playing pool. Templeton "Faceman" Peck is chatting up the barmaid.

Face: 'as tha' seem me new Corvette, love? It's got go faster stripes and a spoiler.
Barmaid: Ooooh! I'd love to, like! An’ tha’ can shag us later, an’ all.
Enter Darren.
Darren: 'ere. Are yorn lot the A-Team?
Hannibal: Mebbe we are, and mebbe we're not. Who's asking?
Darren: Me.
Hannibal: Well, aye, we are then. Whatsup, mate?
Darren: It's them cowboy builders. They've buggered up me new driveway.
Murdoch: I say, topping bad show, what?
Darren: Ey, whatsup wi' 'im, eh?
BA: Crazy foo' thinks he's southern!
Darren: Poor bastard.
Hannibal: What's this about cowboy builders?
Darren: Well, like. They knocked on door t'other day, an' said they'd got some tarmac left over from a job an' would we like us drive doing for forty nicker. So I says, aye, like, I would, and they got on.
BA: And?
Darren: Well, they've buggered it, ant they? It looks shite, and its all uneven. And they've left a good six inch gap at the end so it fills up wi' watter if it rains. It's a disgrace, a bloody eyesore. And it's a potential hazard for vehicles.
Face: (shaking head) Sounds bad.
Darren: And another thing, Our kid can't go out to play on it 'cos of 'ealth and safety.
BA: You shoulda seen that coming, foo'!
Hannibal: Mister - you just hired...the A-Team.

Scene: The travellers campsite in Sprotborough. The A-team van drives in and the gang get out. The A- Team walk through the campsite, attracting curious glances.

Hannibal: Who's in charge here?
A villianous, surly-looking Builder emerges from the steps of a mobile home, smoking a roll-up.
Builder: What's tha' want?
Face: Oh, now, there's no need for hostility! We just came by to say hello and ask for the money you owe us.
Builder: Tha' what?
Hannibal: You took forty nicker off of Darren for doing his drive and you buggered it up. Now we're being nice and asking politely for you to go and fix it, or give him his money back
Builder: Fuck off.
BA (angry): You shut yo' mouth, foo'!
Hannibal: Looks like we're not welcome here, BA. (He turns and gestures for the A Team to follow him. The Builder stands at the steps of his mobile home, watching them go)
Face: Now what?
Hannibal: I think a visit from a new customer is called for. (He bites his cigar with a grin as the A Team head back to the van).

EXT: The Traveller's campsite, later on. Face's Corvette pulls up, chaffered by BA in a cap. Hannibal gets out, dressed in a cheap but flashy suit and an ill-fitting wig.

Hannibal (genially): How do, who's t'Gaffer round here? (The Builder appears at the steps of the Mobile Home. Hannibal shakes him warmly by the hand.) Fastbuck's the name. Tommy Fastbuck. I'm a successful millionaire property developer. You've probably seen my adverts in the South Yorkshire Times.
Builder: Aye.
Hannibal: Champion. Well, it's like this. I've got a new development going up, two hundred bungalows on a green belt site just outside of Cadeby. We start marketing next week and all of the drives'll need tarmacking ovver t'weekend. I'll pay fifty quid a drive if tha can do it, cash in hand.
Man: Mek it sixty quid. Tarmac's not cheap you know.
Hannibal (chuckling good naturedly): I like a man who can strike a hard bargain. Sixty quid it is.

EXT: A deserted Construction Site, showing several half-finished bungalows, abandoned cement mixers, piles of sand, wheelbarrows etc. Hannibal is in view, standing by the site office. A ramshackle truck pulls up with a mound of tarmac visible in the back. Four workmen climb out.

Builder: Aye. Well, Where does tha want us to start?
Hannibal(pulling off wig and drawing gun from his belt): Tha can start by handing us back all that money Darren paid for his drive, and look sharp about it.
(Face, BA and Murdoch close in, toting sub-machine guns. The Workmen all raise their hands, looking apprehensive.)
Hannibal: Okay. Now, over here, nice and easy ...
INT: The cabin of the Truck, where we see a fifth workman concealed. In close-up, we see his hand move to a button marked "Tip"

Murdoch: I say, chaps, can anyone hear a curious sort of commotion going on?
(They look round. The Truck tips, swamping Face, BA and Murdoch with Tarmac. The A-Team are quickly overpowered).
Builder(gloating): Reight. Put them in yon tool shed ovver there. And mek sure tha locks t'dooer. We'll sort 'em later, once we've scammed some grannies fer new guttering.
(The A Team are locked in).
Face: Did you hear that Hannibal? They're going to scam old ladies!
Hannibal: Not to worry, Face. I've got an idea.

INT: The Tool Shed. Pan round, showing sacks of fertiliser, old oil drums, a ride-on mower, and a table with some used tea mugs and a 40lb Netto catering pack of sugar. Quietly, we hear the intro to the "A Team theme tune" interspersed with hammering, sawing, engine tuning ...

EXT: a shot of the door of the tool shed, low camera angle. To the tune of the A team fanfare, the wooden doors explode outward in slow motion. Out comes the ride-on mower, carrying the A-Team and a home-made mortar made out of the old oil drum.

EXT shots around the back streets of Edlington and Warmsworth, showing the A Team in pursuit of the workmen's truck, with stunt driving, skids, the mower going up on 2 wheels round the Warmsworth roundabout. We see Hannibal's cigar being touched to a home-made fuse; one or two mortar shots are fired, near-misses, but the third is a direct hit on the truck, which leaves the road, does a forward 180- degree roll in mid-air, then crashes to the ground in slow motion. The workmen crawl out with torn clothing, ties askew and blackened faces. We hear the distant approach of police sirens.

Hannibal (biting on cigar, with a grin): It's grand when a plan comes together.