Saturday Night Live Transcripts
Season 7: Episode 17
Mike Kramer…..Tim Kazurinsky
Edwin Meese…..Tony Rosato
Margaret Thatcher…..Mary Gross
General Leopoldo Galtieri…..Brian Doyle-Murray
[FADE IN on a slide of the White House as “Hail to the Chief” plays. FADE to Reagan from a first-person perspective at the Oval Office desk, where he is holding a map of the Western Hemisphere before him. A man’s hand is pointing at the Caribbean.]
Voice: And if you follow this plan, Mr. President, we’ll be in the Caribbean by June.
Reagan: Well, sounds like a good strategy, young fella!
[ENTER Edwin Meese from the right.]
Meese: Hi, Ron. What’re you planning here, Ron, what’s going on?
Reagan: Oh, hi, Ed!
Meese: [indicates Kramer] Uh, who’s this guy, Ron?
Reagan: This is Mike Kramer: my travel agent!
Kramer: [extends hand] Pleased to meet you, Mr. Meese.
Meese: [shakes hand politely] Nice to meet you, sir.
Reagan: We were just mapping out my next working vacation. Hey, Ed, how does Aruba sound to you?
Meese: It’s great, Ron, wherever. [to Kramer] Look, uh, excuse me, uh, would you excuse us just for a second, please? [gestures to door] Thank you.
Kramer: Oh, sure.
[Kramer smiles tightly and hastily leaves.]
Reagan: Uh, uh, uh, Mike, don’t forget: twin beds.
[Kramer waves shortly and beats it.]
Meese: So, Ronnie, did you have a good time in the Barbados, huh?
Reagan: Oh, just swell! Anything happen while I was gone, Ed?
Meese: Well, nothing that concerns you, Ron, huh? [smiles contemptuously]
Reagan: Ed, uh, didn’t anyone call me?
Meese: No. [glances around anxiously] Look, Ron, I have some, uh, some important meetings to take place in your office, and, uh, I need it right now, okay? So, uh, I’m gonna have some people come in, and I want you to take off that RIDICULOUS Don Ho shirt–[reaches for Reagan’s head]–and I want you to take off this SNORKEL!
[Meese yanks a blue rubber snorkel off the President’s head.]
Meese: Vacation’s over, Ron!
[He stalks out irritably. Reagan watches him leave, then his eyes turn back toward the fireplace in the center.]
Reagan: [clears throat] “Day-o… day-o…”
[Two maracas stick out in his hands, and he stands up and walks toward a mirror with them.]
Reagan: [singing] “Daylight come, and me wanna go home. Day-o… day-o…”
[Reagan steps in front of the mirror and examines himself. Joe Piscopo as Reagan appears in the mirror, where he wears a loud tropical shirt and holds out his maracas.]
Reagan: Gee! What a terrific tan! This’ll look great on TV.
[He steps away from the mirror but then moves back toward it.]
Reagan: Maybe I ought to call a press conference!
[A buzzer goes off, and Reagan wanders back toward his desk and presses down the bar on the front of the buzzer.]
Secretary: [over speaker] Have you seen Mr. Meese?
Reagan: Ah, you just missed him!
Secretary: Oh, FOO. I have some people here waiting to see him! Would you mind entertaining them until he gets back?
Reagan: I’d be GLAD to!
[He releases the bar and looks toward the door. A moment later, the secretary steps in.]
Secretary: [gestures out door] Uh, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and President Leopoldo Galtieri of Argentina.
[Thatcher and Galtieri stride in, she in a prim business suit, while he wears a military uniform and puffs on a cigar.]
Reagan: Oh, hey, well–come on in! Come on in, make yourself at home! Margaret, Leo, sit down! Sit down.
[They stiffly sit in chairs opposite the desk.]
Reagan: So! What’s new?
Thatcher: Ron, as you may or may NOT have heard, uh, the Argentines have gone and seized our Balklands, or Falklands.
Galtieri: The Malvinas. We have only taken what was always ours.
[Thatcher stands and approaches the desk.]
Thatcher: Mr. President, as you closest Western ally, I must INSIST… [softly pounds desk] …on you unqualified support.
Galtieri: [approaches desk] Mr. President, may I remind you that our mutual defense pact compels you to defend us!
Reagan: Gee, uh, I like you BOTH. Uh, gosh, this is a tough one. Uh… y’know, I’ve been a major movie star, and, uh, I’ve been a cowboy with my own horse, uh, I’ve been a president, uh, but what I’ve always wanted to do is DIRECT. [holds out palms] Now, General: imagine you’re all alone on a lush tropical island, you know, like the one in “The Blue Lagoon.”
[Reagan peers down on his desk and turns on a tape recorder. Hawaiian guitar music starts playing.]
Reagan: Yeah, uh, uh, the scent of orchids fires your Latin blood. Then you suddenly see her. The waves lapping at her sarong. It’s Maggie!
[Thatcher self-consciously rubs her palms on her suit.]
Reagan: Now, you think you hate her, but you just can’t resist her. Kind of like Doris Day and Rock Hudson in “Pillow Talk.” All right, uh, General, now take her in your arms…
Galtieri: What is my motivation?
Reagan: A dozen–
Reagan: Your motivation is a dozen F-16 jet fighters.
Galtieri: I got it.
[He cradles his arm around Thatcher’s shoulders. She reluctantly squeezes his waist.]
Reagan: Okay. Okay, kids, now, have fun with it. Action! Leo, embrace her, now, don’t FIGHT it, c’mon, Maggie, you want it BAD. That’s right! That’s right! Now, your lips meet. Uh, no TONGUES. No tongues.
[The two leaders awkwardly touch their lips together.]
Reagan: Now that–good, good. That’s great.
[Edwin Meese bursts in with folders in his hand.]
Meese: OKAY! CUT, CUT, CUT, CUT! RON, I said “cut.” [to others] All right, that’s a take, everybody, nice work. Mrs. Thatcher, would you excuse us? General, nice work out there. [motions for them to leave] Good motivation out there, too.
Reagan: Gee, uh, uh, Ed?
Reagan: You never mentioned the Falkland Islands to ME. Do they have snorkeling down there?
Meese: Yeah, look, Ron, why don’t you just read it up for yourself, okay? [pats folders] There you go. I’ll see you later. [exits]
[Reagan examines an 8×10 black-and-white glossy of a closely packed herd of sheep.]
Reagan: All right. Oh, look at all the sheep they’ve got down there. Boy, that’s a lotta sheep. [starts counting them] One, two, three… [yawns] Four…
[He almost falls asleep and drops the picture.]
Reagan: Five, five… six… [nodding off] Seven…
[A black screen wipes down from the top and covers up the shot.]
Reagan: [faintly] Eight…
Submitted by: Sean