FELTON: …no, they would never do that. They would kick the ball. The two-point conversion is too risky. These Americans don’t know anything about risk.

ARDMORE: Why are we learning about this pansy game anyway? I thought we were cooking a Thanksgiving dinner?

GRYFFYN: That’s right! Come now, Felton, this is a defeatist attitude. *holding up the trifle bowl* We still have the trifle! It’s like a little bit of Thanksgiving in every bite.

VILLIERS: Well, it probably would be if that were turkey and dressing rather than roast beef and carrots, but who’s quibbling? I’m sure it’s divine.

GRYFFYN: Would you like some?

VILLIERS: God, no. *clicking the cap off and on to the baby oil*

HOLBROOK: Stop doing that. You’re giving me a headache. What are you doing with the oil anyway?

VILLIERS: In case the nuns arrive. I like to be prepared.

FELTON: Oh, for God’s sake, Villiers, there are no nuns! There is no turkey! There will be no Thanksgiving!

MAYNE: You mean, you don’t believe in the Thanksgiving miracle? *tsking* Oh, ye of little faith…

FELTON: I have always thought you were an idiot. *pointing back at the picture and gaining ARDMORE’s attention* Now if they don’t complete the yardage they need to make a down….

GODWIN: *stumbling from a back room* I think I’ve finally managed a song for us to sing while we work. How much time before we’re required to have the meal done?

FELTON: *checking timepiece drolly* Approximately 3 ½ minutes.

GODWIN: Oh, we have scads of time then. You’d be amazed at all the time I have leftover when I’m given 3 ½ minutes. *passing out sheets* Here, we’ll each have a part to sing…

MAYNE: Isn’t this Ode to Joy? You didn’t write this…Look, it says right there in the corner…

GODWIN: *looking frazzled* I was a bit pressed for time! A Thanksgiving feast in an hour. *throwing the papers into the air angrily* What did you expect? A symphony?

VOICEOVER: There is only one minute left. Have the men managed to scrabble something together for their guests, the Prime Minister William Pitt and the Prince Regent, both duct taped to prevent unpleasant sniping…

*door opens, and the men panic, fearing the Prime Minister and Regent have arrived early*

MAYNE: *bashing around pots and pans* Just a minute, we almost… *words die on lips as a group of nuns trot through the door*

VILLIERS: *throwing arms wide and brandishing the baby oil* Ladies! I knew you’d come to save us.

FELTON: It’s…it’s….

GODWIN: A Thanksgiving miracle! *looks inspired* Ooh! I’ve just thought of a melody. Excuse me, ladies, gentlemen. I have to write this down. *disappears again*

DARBY: *handing FELTON his lace handkerchief* Here you go, Felton, take it. Never in all the time I’ve known you have I known you to carry a handkerchief, and yet I’ve never known another to need one more.

FELTON: *weeping quietly into the lace* There really is a Thanksgiving miracle.

NUN#1: *pulling off habit and revealing a lace teddy* I hear there was a problem in the kitchen?

VILLIERS: *clutching said nun and smiling for the camera* I know what I’m thankful for! God bless us, everyone!

*zoom out*