Posh ex-soldier Paul, northern salesman Adam and uppity blonde Kristina are in the board room with Sir Alan and his assistants Nick and Margaret.
Sir Alan: The task was simple this week. You had to take some British produce over to a French market and sell it to the French. But you made a loss! What happened? Paul, you were team leader, explain yourself.
Paul: Oh, yuh, arrrmmm, well, wha' we did was--
Sir Alan: Hold it! Hold it! Too posh, sonny jim.
Paul: Sorry. We basically bought too much cheese.
Nick: Why were you selling cheese to the French? That's like selling fridge freezers to Eskimos!
Paul: It was good quality stuff.
Kristina: Paul, you bought it from a wholesalers!
Paul: So?
Sir Alan: "Breeze blocks" of the stuff, apparently.
Margaret: (chuckles) I came up with that.
Paul: Hmm, well... our presentation could have been better.
Sir Alan: Tell me about the sausages.
Adam: It were a nightmure, Sir Alan. Just two empty cans and a flame trying to cook sausages.
Paul: It was a low-cost means to an end. We did it in the Army.
Sir Alan: Some silly sort of contraption the flamin' Scouts would use, it sounds like! Why didn't you just buy a barbecue set for a tenner?
Kristina: That's what I said.
Paul: It was fine, honestly. It browned them off nicely. I use that method at home all the time.
Nick: It took you two hours to actually cook anything!
Paul: Umm, the best things come to those who wait?
Adam: It were a nightmure, Sir Alan.
Paul: Adam, please. Stop being so negative! What did you do all day?
Adam: I sold stuff. Chutney. You weren't there to see.
Sir Alan: Where was he?
Kristina: Off with Katie, selling stock at silly prices to local shops. I had an argument for the cameras about that.
Adam: Him and Katie were off galavanting.
Kristina: Ahem. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
Paul: No, no, no, no, no.
Sir Alan: Are you saying they're more than just friends? Is that why Katie isn't in the boardroom?
Paul: No, Sir Alan. We just get on well... and like to stroke each other. Sometimes.
Sir Alan: Look, there's nothing wrong with relationships at work. Margaret and I once... with, Nick... well... that's another story.
Adam: It were a nightmure, Sir Alan. There were no French speakers on the stall!
Paul: What? Kristina has a GCSE in French.
Kristina: Yeah, from 18 years ago!
Paul: Ca va?
Kristina: Ca va, bien, merci.
Paul: See!?
Sir Alan: Alright, okay. Adam, you've been in the boardroom almost as many times as me! That's telling me something...
Adam: That I'm a good scapegoat 'cos I sound like a northern car salesman?
Sir Alan: Kristina, who should get fired?
Kristina: Paul.
Sir Alan: Adam, who should get fired?
Adam: Paul.
Sir Alan: Paul, who should get fired?
Paul: Paul. Uh, no, I mean Adam.
Sir Alan sighs.
Sir Alan: What irritates me is that the wholesalers were just meant to get you bloody cocktail sticks...
Paul: Bugger, we didn't get any.
Sir Alan: ... not for you to buy your stuff from there!
Paul: It was good quality cheese! What about Adam? He got us a poster for £150!
Adam: I haggled him to £85. Er, plus VAT.
Sir Alan: Look, sorry, but my mind's made up. Paul -- je vous renvoyé!
Paul nods solemnly, gets up. All three leave.
Adam: Did I get fired? I'm not sure...
