Who did Sergeant, what is the matter? We're going to be on the jelly! Calm yourself, Sergeant. Calm yourself, that what is this nonsense? This fax came for you, and... A fax, and then... Yes. And then I presume that you do not know it's coming. Of course I do, I always read your mail. But home, at home you do, Sergeant. But at work you wouldn't dream of reading the private communications of your commanding officer. All right, have it your own way. What's in your fax, Raymond? I wonder if it's something exciting. Good Lord, we're going to be on the television. The chief constable has been approached by the BBC to do a fly on the wall documentary by the police station. He wants to know if we'd agree for it to be ours. Now, this needs some very careful consideration. For the time being, I think it'd be best if we didn't tell CID, because you know what'll happen. Every dream of guest for CID, come on down! Just as I've heard. And you heard, Fowler, we're going to be stars, limos, posth birds, no more queueing at Saint's Brace. Our reckon we should cut a single, star-skiing-hutch did it, didn't they? Caramel silver lady, take me home! And come jacky out of bash, if the picture paints a thousand words, then what can I find? Look, look, be quiet, everyone, be quiet! Starsky and hatching Kojak were fictitious policemen. The BBC wanted to make a documentary, not Gaspeth PD Blue. I don't know who'll be wearing only upper-line. We've made all that silly in the back.