The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society

Shh! For God's sake, Eben! Keep it down.

Oh, sweetest pork I ever tasted, Dawsey. Succulent.

And, lsola? (Burps)

- Your gin... - (Man 2) Shh.

He'll get us all arrested!

- I'll take him back over the field. - Sod 'em!

This is our island, our home, not theirs!

Those square-headed buggers can shove...

Stop!

- Papers! " (Whimpers)

- (Woman) Of course, Captain. - (Man shouts in German)

- (Whimpers) - (Man continues shouting in German)

- The pig was beautiful, Dawsey. - Shh.

- That bloody pie, though. - You are breaking curfew.

What is the purpose of your assembly?

- (Man 2) We... We were just... - Reading.

We have a book club, you see.

You know the authorities are trying to encourage cultural association

as part of your model occupation.

- Yes, yes, book lovers, that's us. - (Groans)

What is the name of your club?

- Erm... - (Woman) Erm...

- The Guernsey Literary and... - (Burps) The bloody potato peel pie...

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie...

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

It should be on the list. Guernsey Literary...

You're not confiscating potato peelings yet, are you?

This is an illegal assembly.

You will come with us. All of you!

- Are you all right, Eben? - (Eben groans)

Shall I help put him into your car?

You will register this group... first thing in the morning!

- (Man shouts in German) - Thank you.

- Oh, so "The Times" have been onto me. - Fresh paint!

When was the last time you saw that?

Oh...

One might almost believe the war is really over.

Yes, they want you to do an article

about reading.

No. Sidney, no. I don't think I'm much up for any more Izzy.

Actually, they want Juliet Ashton.

It's your own voice this time. I've said yes.

Huh! Have you? (Sighs)

Well, you might have said no, and I make better decisions.

So, your book tour starts Monday week. Bath to Yorkshire.

"The Times" will fill the gap nicely...

There we are.

- (Bus bell rings) - Oh, speaking of which, here we are.

Our stop.

- (Applause) - (Juliet) Thank you.

- (Woman) Miss Ashton? - Yes?

Have you always wanted to be a writer?

Always, yes.

It's the perfect job. Sitting, indoors, always near a teapot.

It has its ups and downs.

My first book, "A Critical Biography of Anne Bronté", sold only...

How many copies, Sidney?

- My publisher, Mr Sidney Stark. - Twenty-eight copies.

- Worldwide. - (Awkward laughter)

Why Izzy Bickerstaff? Why not write under your real name?

Erm... I'm not sure which came to me first,

lzzy's name or his voice.

In either case, they both seemed to suit the tone of the task.

Much better than my own.

Are you working on a new book?

Well, I'm not sure I'd call Izzy a book

as much as a collection of faintly amusing essays.

Yes, I am.

English foibles. Er, a miscellany of English absurdity.

For example, there's a London society for public decency...

- which advocates trousers for horses. - (Laughter)

Oh. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Ashton. A delight. I'm such a huge fan.

Oh. (Chuckles) Thank you.

Oh, poor old Izzy. Had no use for a war, did he?

Only wanted to be left alone with his pint.

- (Chuckles) - Here we are.

Quite frankly, Izzy Bickerstaff's why you get first dibs here, Miss Ashton.

But you mustn't dally. No.

- It's sure to go in a flash. - (Gasps)

Father's paperweight.

Juliet. Juliet.

Where are you? Come back from the edge!

It's all right.

Pure crystal.

Oh, yes. Yes, that's very nice.

Do you...

see the crystal, Juliet?

Lovely.

Wonderful view of Kensington Gardens.

Albert Hall round the corner.

It's a steal at this price.

It is beautiful.

I knew you'd love it.

I'm terribly sorry.

At long last you can afford something smart. Rejoice.

I feel a complete fraud here.

Juliet, you really do need something better than a poky bedsit in Battersea,

with three suitcases and a typewriter.

- (Juliet) I realise. - Oh, I see...

Poor thing! You feel you haven't suffered enough.

I expect not.

Well, far be it for me to relieve you of your solemn duty, but I'll tell you what...

We will buy new flats for everyone else in London who was bombed out,

just as soon as Izzy hits number one. Will that make it better?

It is a strong start.

This could be a proper home.

It is a proper home, Sidney.

It's just not mine.

- (Man 1) Excuse me. - (Man 2) Hey, come on, don't be shy!

Coming through.

You'll need an enormous window to put your desk in front of.

You don't get enough sun as it is. Waiter, I'll keep the bottle.

Fireplace to keep you warm... when you're not with me.

Markham Reynolds.

Diplomat and clairvoyant. You're a wonder.

At your service.

Right.

Now, what good is a window if I haven't given you a view?

Watch this.

Mr Reynolds.

- I've asked you to stop. - (Juliet) Oh God, you've been caught.

Yet still you persist. Look at this.

Do you imagine I've got a storeroom just brimming with vases for my tenants to use?

I apologise again, Mrs Burns.

Times are tough.

Florists, they need the work.

Flowers. Hope she knows what a lucky girl she is.

- (Chuckles) Come on. - Goodbye, Mrs Burns.

- (Markham) Goodnight. - (Juliet) Goodnight.

- Your mail. - (Juliet) Ah...

- Thank you. - And your flowers.

Oh... Oh, please keep the flowers for yourself, Mrs Burns, won't you?

Oh, thank you.

And no more typing, now, Miss Ashton. It's well after ten.

OK.

Sound of that clatter. Worse than gunfire!

Forwarded from Oakley Street.

"Dear Miss Ashton, my name is Dawsey Adams.

"I live on my farm on the island of Guernsey."

Guernsey?

"I know of you because I have an old book,

"'The Selected Essays of Elia', by Charles Lamb,

"that has your name and address written inside."

'I've read it many times.

'There wasn't much else to do here during the occupation

'and Charles Lamb made me laugh.'

"Especially when he wrote about the roast pig." (Laughs)

'l am part of a book club,

'The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

'We actually formed because we had to keep a roast pig secret from the Germans.

'So, I like Charles Lamb, which is why I'm writing to you.

'The Germans are gone now, but there are no bookshops left on Guernsey.

'I am looking for a copy of Charles Lamb's "Tales From Shakespeare“,

'which I understand he wrote for children.

'Could you send me the address of a bookshop in London?

'I hope not to trouble you. Dawsey Adams.'

'Dear Mr Adams,

'I'm so pleased your letter found me and that my book found you.

'It was a sad wrench to part with Mr Lamb, but I was rather low on funds at the time.

'Perhaps there is some secret sort of homing instincts in books

- 'that brings them to their perfect readers.' - Thank you.

'How delightful if that were true.'

- (Shopkeeper) Here. - (Juliet) I'll take it.

'l have located Lamb's "Shakespeare" and I am happy to present it to you

'in exchange for the answers to three questions.

'Why did a roasted pig have to be kept a secret?

'How could a pig cause you to begin a literary society?

'And, most pressing of all, what is a potato peel pie?'

Hi.

- (Woman) Try it_ - (Markham) No. (Laughs)