Our Figures Are Slipping is the second episode (3rd overall) of Are You Being Served?'s first series which aired on March 28, 1973.

Episode summaryEdit

Sales figures are down on the ladies' and men's counters, and management decides to take drastic action...though Mrs. Slocombe rather they fix her sticky drawers first. Mr. Rumbold wants the staff to stay behind after hours for a sales training course. Naturally, no one wants to stay even one minute after half past five and it's a grumpy group that's sitting at the table as Mr. Rumbold attempts to teach them the fine art of salesmanship. Mrs. Slocombe wants to get home to tend to her pussy, and Mr. Lucas is trying to talk Miss Brahms into accompanying him to the cinema to see "The Unsatisfied Virgin." "Training" progresses...not too well...when a surprise visit from Young Mr. Grace, to see what they've learned, has the staff on their toes. Will the staff perform well for Mr. Grace? Will Mr. Grace even notice? And most important of all, will Mr. Lucas get the Unsatisfied Virgin?

Episode QuotesEdit

  • Mrs. Slocombe: Before we go any further, Mr. Rumbold, Miss Brahms and I would like to complain about the state of our drawers. They're... They're a positive disgrace. Mr. Rumbold: Your what, Mrs. Slocombe? Mrs. Slocombe: Our drawers. They're sticking. It's always the same in damp weather. Mr. Rumbold: Really? Mrs. Slocombe: Miss Brahms could hardly shift hers at all just now. Mr. Lucas: [laughing] No wonder she was late. Mrs. Slocombe: They sent up a man who put beeswax on them, but that made them worse. Mr. Rumbold: I'm not surprised. Miss Brahms: I think they need sandpapering. Mr. Rumbold: Would that help, do you think, Peacock? Mr. Humphries: Well, you see, I puff French chalk on mine, and they're as smooth as silk. Mr. Lucas: Perhaps you could puff some French chalk over Mrs. Slocombe's. Mr. Rumbold: Would that solve your problem, Mrs. Slocombe? Mrs. Slocombe: They ought to be changed. I've had them ever since I've been here!
  • Mrs. Slocombe: Good morning, Captain Peacock. Captain Peacock: Eight fifty-eight. [hands her a pencil to sign in] Mrs. Slocombe: As departmental head of ladies' ready-mades, I hardly think it necessary for me to clock in like a char.
  • Mr. Humphries: [Signing in at work] Good morning Captain Peacock. [Looks at his watch] Eight fifty-nine and ten... ten seconds, yes. I would have been here at eight fifty-eight, but I caught my hand bag in the lift. Captain Peacock: Hand bag? Mr. Humphries: Well, it's Miss Brahms' actually. She left it on the stairs. She must have been in rather a hurry. Besides, I wouldn't be seen dead with imitation crocodile, not with these shoes anyway.
  • Mr. Grainger: I walked through the park in order to give my toast crusts to the ducks. My wife doesn't like me to leave them, but these new teeth of mine... They're a little to much for them. You know, even the ducks have to wait until they go soggy. Mr. Humphries: They'll probably be all right, when you've run them in a bit.
  • Mr. Humphries: [after Mr. Lucas talks to Captain Peacock] Did you have a nice little chat? Mr. Lucas: He said I've got to report to Rumbold at nine fifteen with my sales book. What does that mean? Mr. Humphries: Well, in the terms of the Almighty's grand plan for the universe, very little. But as far as your concerned, it probably means you'll be at the labor exchange at half past nine.
  • Mrs. Slocombe: It's very short notice. There's my pussy to consider.
  • Miss Brahms: Honestly, it's the limit. They don't consider your private life at all. Mrs. Slocombe: Did you have a date? Miss Brahms: No, but I might have had.
  • Mr. Grainger: I suppose I ought to phone Mrs. Grainger, and tell her to keep the pie warm in the oven. Mr. Humphries: Tell her to turn the regulo down to a quarter. If she hardens that crust, it'll play havoc with your gums.
  • Captain Peacock: On the chest of a barmaid from Sale, Was tattooed all the prices of ale. Whilst on her behind, for the sake of the blind, was precisely the same, but in Braille.
  • Mr. Grainger: Take that silly grin off your face, Mr. Lucas. It's very bad for trade. Mr. Lucas: You just can't win, can you? Mr. Humphries: Take no notice of him. He's jealous. If he tried it, they'd drop on the floor.
  • Miss Brahms: What a load of old codswallop this is. Mr. Lucas: Why, are you going out tonight? Miss Brahms: No. Mr. Lucas: How about coming out to the pictures, with me, then? Miss Brahms: What's on? Mr. Lucas: Well, there's "Bambi" at Studio 2, and then round the corner, there's "The Unsatisfied Virgin". [pause] I've seen "Bambi". Miss Brahms: Forget that. By the time Rumbold's finished rabbitting on, the virgin will have been satisfied, and they'll all have gone home.
  • Miss Brahms: What a pity, your ear holes aren't a bit bigger. Mr. Lucas: Why? Miss Brahms: 'Cause then you could shove a toothbrush in them and clean that filthy mind of yours.
  • Mr. Rumbold: A satisfied team is an efficient team. Mr. Lucas: And a satisfied virgin, is a virgin no longer.
  • Mr. Humphries: [Mr. Grainger is snoring on his chair] Poor old soul, he's been on his feet all day. He probably goes to sleep about this time on the train. Captain Peacock: Mr. Grainger? Mr. Rumbold: Mr. Grainger? Miss Brahms: Mr. Grainger? Mrs. Slocombe: Miss Brahms! Mr. Grainger? Miss Brahms: Baldy! Mr. Rumbold: One hesitates to lay hands on him. Still... Mr. Lucas: Oh no, no, no. I wouldn't if I were you, Mr, Rumbold. No, no. Just think. Sudden shock, heart attack, kicks the bucket. News Of The World: "Aged Worker Dies At Hands Of Overseer". That wouldn't look good for Grace Brothers. Mr. Humphries: Excuse me, Captain Peacock. I think I know what to do. [coughs] Are you free, Mr. Grainger? Mr. Grainger: Yes, I'm free, Mr. Humphries.
  • Captain Peacock: Mrs. Slocombe, do you feel like having cocoa and buns, now? Mrs. Slocombe: I never feel like having cocoa and buns. If I'd known the firm was going to be so stingy, I'd have gone out and had a Wimpy cheeseburger. Mr. Rumbold: I believe there's some cheese in the buns. Miss Brahms: I don't like cheese. Mr. Lucas: There's not very much cheese in the buns.
  • Mr. Rumbold: [handing Mrs. Slocombe the jug of milk] Would you like to be mother, Mrs. Slocombe? Mrs. Slocombe: Well, seeing as I'm not having any, I don't see why I should be lumbered pouring it out.
  • Mr. Rumbold: That was a very smart bit of selling, Mr. Lucas. You see, the smile does the trick. Mr. Lucas: Oh, it does indeed, Mr. Rumbold, yes. Mr. Rumbold: You obviously know your stock very well. Even I was unaware we had a vicuna coat. Captain Peacock: We haven't. Mr. Lucas sold Mr. Grace his own coat. Mr. Rumbold: Mr. Lucas sold Mr. Grace, Mr. Lucas's coat? Captain Peacock: No... Mr. Lucas sold Mr. Grace, Mr. Grace's coat.
  • Captain Peacock: Mrs. Slocombe, I hope your cat won't suffer unduly from its enforced confinement. Mrs. Slocombe: Oh, it's not confined. It's shut up.


Also appearingEdit

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