1951 lines
67 KiB
Plaintext
1951 lines
67 KiB
Plaintext
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B R I T C O M E D Y D I G E S T
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==================================
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VOL. I APRIL 1995
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No. 12
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A monthly electronic newsletter on British comedies.
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~~~~~~WARNING~~~~~~
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APRIL FOOL'S DAY MAY BE GONE BUT IT IS NOT
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FORGOTTEN HERE AT BRITCOMEDY DIGEST
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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What's Inside
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=============
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Goodies Lost Episode
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Bottom Hospital
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Bay Area Red Dwarfers Meet
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Regular Departments:
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===================
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Mailbox
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Britcomedy News
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Newsquirks
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Editorial/Opinion Page
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Usenet Vox Pop
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net.comedy
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[Red Dwarf] Quote-o'-the-Month
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ETC.
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Circulation/Back Issues
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Staff
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=====
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Managing Editor..................Melinda 'Bob' Casino
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Contributing Editor..............Michelle Street
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Assistant Editor.................James Kew
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Copy Editor......................Cynthia Edwards
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Michelle Casino..................Michelle Casino
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Contributing writers: Colin Campbell, Melinda Casino, Barry Cronin.
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HTML logo by Nathan Gasser; HTML conversion by James Kew.
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Britcomedy Digest (ISSN 1077-6680) <Schopenhauer Publishing Co.>
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Copyright (c) 1995 by Melinda Casino. Reproduction for personal and
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non-profit use is permitted only if this copyright notice is retained. Any
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other reproduction is prohibited without permission.
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MAILBOX
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=======
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Please sign me up to receive BritComedy Digest. I read a several issues last
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night and found it to be a great mag. I'm a little disappointed not to see any
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articles on either Rik Mayall's "The New Statesman" or Lynn and Jay's "Yes,
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Minister/Prime Minister".
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Chris Gondek - San Antonio, Texas
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EDITOR'S RESPONSE: Wow, are you a member of the Psychic Friend's Network or
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what? We've been kicking around the idea of a "theme issue" in May
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revolving around political satire in British comedy and those two shows top
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the list of ones we want to cover. Anyone willing to contribute an article
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on "Yes Minister/Prime Minister" please contact melinda@cathouse.org. We
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would also like an article on "Spitting Image." Any takers?
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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This mag is really good. I think the real reason that British
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shows of any kind do well over your side of the pond is that we have
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a much richer culture over here. You seem to have fast food, guns
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and movies - that's all.
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William Purry, UK
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EDITOR'S RESPONSE: Hey, hey, hey, Bill. (Or can I call you Billy?) Let's not
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forget America also has Zima clear malt liquor and Spam light.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Darling Fascist Bullyboy Editor,
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I've just started receiving "Britcomedy Digest" and all I have to say is
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"Right on!" However, your mag would be much improved if you included some
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photos of *me.* After all, I am gorgeous, I am sex, and BD readers are
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willing to pay.
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Rick, 15 Credibility Street
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EDITOR'S RESPONSE: Willing to pay, huh? Then send all monetary contributions
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in large denominations to Michelle Street c/o Britcomedy Digest, 16
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Credibility Street. I'll make sure the others get their share. Honest.
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SPECIAL GUEST EDITORIAL RESPONSE FROM A GUY DOWN THE PUB: Did someone say
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photos? Candid photos? Swimming costume? Could be taken on holiday? Grin,
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grin, wink, wink, nudge, nudge...
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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If *you* would like to say more (or tell us to say *no* more), then send a
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letter to <melinda@cathouse.org with the subject heading "Letter to the
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Editor."
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________________________________________________________________________
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***BRITCOMEDY NEWS***
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by Michelle Street
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*BRITISH COMEDY SUFFERS ANOTHER YET LOSS*
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Following the recent untimely deaths of Viv Stanshall, James Herriott, and
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Peter Cook, the British entertainment industry has lost yet another popular
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figure. Radio and television personality Kenny Everett, who had been
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suffering from the AIDS virus, passed away in his sleep at his London home
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on April 4th. He was 50 years old.
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Although his life was cut tragically short, Everett (born Maurice Cole) left
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behind a substantial body of work from his 20 years in show business. He
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worked for Radio Luxembourg, the pirate station Radio Caroline, Radio 1, and
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Capital Radio. He was also able to parlay his radio success into television
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fame as the star of "The Kenny Everett Video Show" and the "Kenny Everett
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Television Show."
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Like many great comedy talents, Everett's private life was extremely
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complicated (including divorcing his wife and "coming out" as a homosexual)
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and he suffered from severe bouts of depression. To the public, however, he
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put on a totally different face and was known for being totally outrageous,
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manic, and controversial. He was sacked by Radio 1 after making comments
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about the driving ability of the wife of the Minister of Transport and is
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also remembered for yelling "Let's bomb Russia" once at a Young
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Conservatives' Rally.
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In many ways, Everett was a true pioneer. He elevated the role of disc
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jockey from someone who just introduces songs to more of an all-around
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entertainer. He created a number of memorable characters, such as super
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hero Captain Kremmen and Hell's Angel Sid Snot. From all reports, he seems
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to have retained that sense of fun even at the very end. As a Scottish
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newspaper reported, he went out and spent a large sum of money on an ultra
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luxurious bed. "If AIDS has to take me, I want it to be in the most
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sumptuous bed money can buy," he told his friend, DJ Tony Blackburn.
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Though his death was expected, that did not make it not easier on the many
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fans and colleagues who mourned his passing. At least they can take heart
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in the fact that although AIDS took his life, it could never take away the
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laughs and smiles Kenny Everett gave the world.
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*IN OTHER SAD NEWS*
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Fans of "Are You Being Served?" are mourning the death of Arthur English,
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who passed away at the age of 75. English played the role of Mr. Beverly
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Harmon on the popular sitcom between the years of 1976 and 1984.
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*CRAIG CHARLES SERIES AXED*
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Just when he thought things were looking up after being acquitted of rape
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charges, "Red Dwarf" star Craig Charles was dealt another blow when his
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upcoming series "Go Getters" was canceled because of the negative publicity
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surrounding his trial.
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Charles, 30, was reportedly shocked when he heard of the cancellation. "I
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had no idea this was happening," he said. No idea at all. I haven't had a
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letter from anyone telling me about this."
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Executives at ITV were apparently concerned because "Go Getters" is a
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daredevil program aimed at children. Even though Charles was found innocent
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of raping his former lover, the sensational aspect of this trial, plus the
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newspaper reports in which he admitted to drug use, made executives question
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whether he would be a suitable star/role model for a children's series.
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This decision not only affects Charles but others who were scheduled to
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appear in the series, such as Danniella Westbrook, Michaelea Strachan,
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Keith Chegwin, and presenter Lloyd Grossman.
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*BAFTA AWARDS ANNOUNCED*
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It didn't win Best Picture at the Academy Awards, but "Four Weddings And A
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Funeral" swept the BAFTA (British Academy of Film and Television Arts)
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Awards, which were handed out in London on Sunday, April 23rd.
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The romantic comedy, starring Hugh Grant and written by Richard Curtis (of
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"Black Adder" fame) won five of the top awards. Here is a list of the
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winners in the major categories:
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FILM
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----
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BEST FILM: Four Weddings and a Funeral
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BEST DIRECTOR: Mike Newell, Four Weddings and a Funeral
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BEST ACTOR: Hugh Grant, Four Weddings and a Funeral
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BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Kristin Scott Thomas, Four Weddings and a Funeral
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TELEVISION
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----------
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BEST COMEDY: Two Fights, Two Weddings, And A Funeral (BBC 2)
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BEST ACTOR: Robbie Coltrane, Cracker (ITV)
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BEST LIGHT-ENTERTAINMENT PERFORMANCE: Rory Bremner (Channel 4)
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BEST COMEDY PERFORMANCE: Joanna Lumley, Absolutely Fabulous (BBC 1)
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LLOYD'S BANK PEOPLE'S VOTE
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--------------------------
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Film: Four Weddings and a Funeral
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Television: Cracker
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*COMIC RELIEF RED NOSE DAY 5 A GREAT SUCCESS*
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Over 10 million pounds was raised on March 17th, making Comic Relief Day 5 a
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great success and pushing the total money raised over the past decade to
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over 100 million pounds.
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The day's highlight came with an evening of special television programming
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during which Rowan Atkinson and Jayne Torvill skated as "Torvill and Bean,"
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both French and Saunders got to snog Hugh Grant (ah, you lucky girls) and
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Mel Smith snogged Griff Rhys-Jones.
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The money raised will help charities in the UK and Africa. For more
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background on Comic Relief you can check out the special Red Nose Day issue
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of Britcomedy Digest at the cathouse.org British Comedy pages. Don't know
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how to access back issues? Check the info at the end of this issue.
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*THE COMEDY STORE NOW HAS A HOMEPAGE*
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Comedy fans now have an easy way to find out what's happening at one of
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London's most famous stand up clubs. As part of the growing trend of
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businesses publicizing themselves online, London's famed Comedy Store now
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has its own homepage at http://193.131.77.142/comedy/. This nifty page will
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give you information about tickets and upcoming performers at the club. For
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those who live in London or are planning a visit there, it will be a handy
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guide to what's on, while those of us in the rest of the world can just look
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at it and drool.
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*MORE AMERICAN AB FAB PLANS*
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In a recent issue of the American magazine "Entertainment Weekly," Roseanne
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(used to be Barr, then Arnold, now simply Roseanne) is quoted as saying that
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befriending Jennifer Saunders gave her an edge when Saunders was being wooed
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for the rights for an American version of the show.
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Roseanne is quoted as saying: "I found out that over there in England there
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was a another castrating bitch like me. Jennifer gave me [her] show over
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[Jeffrey Katzenberg and Brandon Tartikoff]...That's what this networking
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stuff is all about, kids."
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She also said that she's trying to get Carrie Fisher to write the series and
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apparently former "Cheers" star Kirstie Alley is being considered for the
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role of Edina.
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NEWSQUIRKS
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==========
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Here's a couple for our "Unsung Heroes Of British Comedy" files:
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Unsung hero #1 is linguist Eric Kahane. Now I happen to be a French teacher
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and a major Python loyalist, but I can imagine what he went through while
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subtitling the 45 Python episodes for French TV. He con-FESSED (apparently
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without the threat of a comfy chair) to having "almost cracked" after 17
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episodes due to the strain of having finding French equivalents for
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Pythonisms. He described the experience as "like the Vietnam war" and only
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completed the 22,266 separate subtitles "after lots of coffee."
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Well, vive le caffeine and merci beaucoup, Monsieur Kahane. They'll
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never *admit* it, but I'm sure the French viewing public is very grateful.
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The April 7th issue of "Private Eye" introduced us to unsung hero #2, who
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had the task of captioning (for the hearing impaired) Ben Elton's routine
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for Comic Relief Red Nose Day. Anyone familiar with Elton knows that the
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man's mouth moves faster than a Japanese bullet train, so this poor
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captioner was sunk from the beginning.
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Of course there was not only the daunting task of keeping up with Elton's
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velocity, there was the problem of finding suitable terms for such fun Elton
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references as "Wankwatch" (Ben's term for "Baywatch") and pubic. Apparently
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not all of it came out perfectly. There was "fan nis" for "fannies" and
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Elton's signature closing remark was rendered as "My name's bellElton,
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Goodnight." (Ah well, at least it wasn't Bun Altoon, eh?)
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Given Elton's penchant for talking *very* loudly, I only wonder why they
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needed an interpreter in the first place.
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Send news or newsquirk items to Michelle Street <mtstreet@prairienet.org>
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__________________________________________________________________________
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EDITORIAL/OPINION PAGE
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"Red Quasars and Their Effects On Super Novas"
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by
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Arnold J. Rimmer, Second Technician
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Known to many as a snide brown-nosing incompetent git, Arnold J. Rimmer is
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nevertheless Second Technician for the Jupiter Mining Corporation and one
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of Britcomedy Digest's finest hologrammatic contributing writers (not to
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give McIntyre short shrift or anything...). In this issue, "Arnie" discusses
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red quasars and their importance in astro-navigation.
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[Editor's note: While Mr. Rimmer had initially agreed a month ago to write
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an essay for Britcomedy Digest, we haven't received correspondence from him
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since. The following was found one morning in our office slipped under the
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door in a large manila envelope.]
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I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A
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FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH.
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I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM
|
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A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A
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FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH.
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I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM
|
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A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A
|
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FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH.
|
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I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM
|
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A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A
|
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FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH.
|
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I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM
|
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A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A
|
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FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH.
|
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I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM
|
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A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A
|
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FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH.
|
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I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM
|
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A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A
|
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FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH.
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I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM
|
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A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A
|
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FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH.
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I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM
|
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A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A
|
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FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH.
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I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM
|
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A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A
|
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FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH.
|
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I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM
|
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A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A
|
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FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH.
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||
|
|
I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM
|
||
|
|
A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. I AM A FISH. FISH.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
[signed in scrawled letters: A.J. Rimmer]
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SAN FRANCISCO BAY AREA "RED DWARF" FANS MEET
|
||
|
|
(by Maddie Burgess and John Reichel)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Twelve San Francisco Bay Area Red Dwarf fans gathered together on Sunday,
|
||
|
|
March 26th for a feast of vindalu and other Indian delicacies at the
|
||
|
|
Shilpa restaurant in Berkeley, California. Although Lister's beloved
|
||
|
|
pizza with curry sauce wasn't on the menu, the group -- who call
|
||
|
|
themselves BAD (Bay Area Dwarfers) -- thoroughly enjoyed their meal and
|
||
|
|
the opportunity to socialize with other Red Dwarf fans who they'd
|
||
|
|
"virtually met" through the Internet mail list or news group.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Several fans wore their Red Dwarf T-shirts and jackets. One was
|
||
|
|
fashionably dressed as "Cat", complete with cat "fangs." Luckily, fish
|
||
|
|
*was* on the menu! Most everyone wore a silvery "H" on their forehead in
|
||
|
|
honor of the group's favorite smeghead hologram, Arnold Rimmer.
|
||
|
|
Characteristic of the Berkeley locale, the group scarcely received a
|
||
|
|
second glance for any of this!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Two Dwarfers from England provided firsthand accounts of the extent of Red
|
||
|
|
Dwarf's popularity in its home country, while the Yanks bemoaned the
|
||
|
|
general lack of information for fans on this side of the pond. "The Red
|
||
|
|
Dwarf Quiz Book" provided lively discussions for the detail-obsessed
|
||
|
|
members of the party. By dinner's end, debate- and curry-induced sweat
|
||
|
|
had loosened the metallic "H's" from almost every forehead.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The intrepid Dwarfers then adjourned to a nearby pub -- aptly named
|
||
|
|
"Jupiter" -- to play pinball and quaff liberal quantities of cider and
|
||
|
|
Drake's Real Ale. Everything from "Star Trek" to "Black Adder" to
|
||
|
|
"Melrose Place" (Melrose Place???) became the subject of critical analysis
|
||
|
|
from a happily warped Dwarfer perspective. The evening was topped off
|
||
|
|
with a hardy rendition of the Red Dwarf theme song, no doubt much
|
||
|
|
appreciated by the rest of the Jupiter clientele. Smeg, indeed!-- It was
|
||
|
|
agreed that everyone had a great time!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Any "Red Dwarf" fans who would like to participate in B.A.D. activities can
|
||
|
|
send email to Madelaine Burgess at ADSMLB@ncal.kaiperm.org. Please give
|
||
|
|
us your Internet address, full name, and the city you live in. A
|
||
|
|
telephone number and snail-mail address would also be helpful, but is
|
||
|
|
optional.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
*BRITCOMEDY DIGEST WORLD EXCLUSIVE*
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"The Goodies" (formerly) lost footage
|
||
|
|
======================================
|
||
|
|
Recently, the BBC was archiving its video library when lost Goodies
|
||
|
|
footage was discovered. These were scenes from the "Big Bunny" (a.k.a.
|
||
|
|
"Creatures from the Moon") episode which, apparently, didn't make the
|
||
|
|
final cut.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
We at Britcomedy Digest are proud to be the first publication to bring these
|
||
|
|
transcripts to the attention of Britcom-loving netizens. Enjoy! And
|
||
|
|
remember, don't trust Big Bunny.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
CAST:
|
||
|
|
=====
|
||
|
|
Tim Brooke-Taylor.................Tim Brooke-Taylor
|
||
|
|
Graeme Greene.....................Graeme Garden
|
||
|
|
Bill Oddie........................Bill Oddie
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(First scene: Outside shot of a shack on the moon. Inside shot: many
|
||
|
|
rabbits sitting around, nibbling on carrots. Bill Oddie is looking funky
|
||
|
|
in a purple leisure suit that fits snugly; Tim Brooke-Taylor is wearing
|
||
|
|
a cheesy-looking rabbit costume and buck teeth. He hovers over a small
|
||
|
|
rabbit sitting on a tall pedestal.)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: (yelling in an incredibly annoying screechy voice) Tim, if you
|
||
|
|
don't stop staring at that rabbit, I'm warnin' ya, I'll belt ya one!
|
||
|
|
(wiggles around gesturing with his fist)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: (stroking rabbit) I can't help it. You see, life was meaningless
|
||
|
|
until we landed on this moon and I met (lovingly) Bum-fluff.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: Listen! Y' gone off the deep end! Ya can't sit around mooning all
|
||
|
|
day ya know! (pause) Way-hey, "mooning," get it? Ha! Get it?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: Look, I'm staying. I'm establishing a British colony--(shot of puppet
|
||
|
|
rabbits by a gramophone putting on a record; "Land of Hope and Glory"
|
||
|
|
begins) That's right; Bum-fluff and I are claiming the moon for
|
||
|
|
Britain--not to have our names go down in history--
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: I should hope not, with a name like 'Bum-fluff'--
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: --not for the glory, no, not even for the dune buggy races held on
|
||
|
|
Thursdays in the craters...I'm staying -- for England! (shot of
|
||
|
|
puppet-bunnies waving miniature UK flags)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BUNNIES: (in high-pitched voices) Yaaaayyy!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: You're bleedin' barmy! Dij-didnjt--(indecipherable) dij' ya know
|
||
|
|
you'll be serving Big Bunny?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: Big Bunny is just the kind of leader we need to make Britain great
|
||
|
|
again...he's better organized, better experienced, and shows more
|
||
|
|
leadership skills than Britain's top political leaders. Plus he's a
|
||
|
|
whole heck of a lot cuddlier... (BILL runs over to the gramophone,
|
||
|
|
grabs the record and breaks it over Tim's head)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: Enough of this tat. We've got to go back to Graeme!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: (stunned) Why?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: Because we're not THE GOODIES if there's just two of us! There's a
|
||
|
|
clause in our BBC contract that says one of us can't work without the
|
||
|
|
other two.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: I always wondered about that...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: Besides, all me clothing has "The Goodies" written on it, can't
|
||
|
|
just throw that lot away. And there's nothing to nosh on here on the
|
||
|
|
moon EXCEPT THESE BLEEDING CARROTS! (throws carrot away)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: (petulant child-like voice) Well I'm not going. This is where
|
||
|
|
Bum-fluff and I plan to raise our litter, (aside to Bum-fluff) don't we
|
||
|
|
darling? (firmly) So you'll just have to go alone.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: (Bill gets out a black pudding sausage-type thing. [see "Ecky-thump"
|
||
|
|
episode]) Do you remember what this is?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: I'm coming.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: Good.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: But Bum-fluff must come too..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: All right, all right...(there is a general talking over each
|
||
|
|
other's lines.)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(That is all that the BBC has salvaged of this scene...Thank God.)
|
||
|
|
-------
|
||
|
|
(Second scene: Bill and Tim are back on earth, running around a grassy
|
||
|
|
knoll to the snazzy "Run, run, run away--I'm runnin'" song. The cage
|
||
|
|
hanging from the tree prop is used again. Bum-fluff is safely tucked in
|
||
|
|
Tim's space-helmet on top of his head, which, for some reason, he
|
||
|
|
continues to wear. This segment lasts for just a few brief seconds until
|
||
|
|
the tape suddenly cuts off to the next big scene.)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Third scene: In the Goodies' "office." All the Goodies are present;
|
||
|
|
Tim is still serving Big Bunny. Bobbies are milling around. Some
|
||
|
|
unknown chaos has apparently just ended.)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: All right, all right--push off. (ushers a group of bobbies out the
|
||
|
|
door with a shepherd's staff. Bum-fluff assists by racing around on the
|
||
|
|
floor, acting as a shepherd's dog).
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GRAEME: Well, that was a close one...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: I _knew_ this would come in handy someday! (puts staff in closet)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: (picking up B.F.) Good job, my little pumpkin...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: Eh--what are we gonna do about him, eh?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GRAEME: There's one way to find out. (goes over to his computer) Come
|
||
|
|
on, Bessie, don't fail me now...(punches in numbers, adjusted settings.
|
||
|
|
Computer whirrs and spits out some paper tape. G. looks at it) All my
|
||
|
|
scientific data confirms that he's still under the influence of Big
|
||
|
|
Bunny; however, this has caused a noticeable improvement in his
|
||
|
|
personality.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: You call thinkin' you're a rabbit a noticeable improvement?!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GRAEME: Well, he _is_ in love. That's made him happier and, let's face it,
|
||
|
|
they make a cute couple, don't they? But Big Bunny has all the power.
|
||
|
|
(shakes head) It's just not right.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: Yeah--and all that luver's talk 'es puttin' on is makin' me vomit!
|
||
|
|
(looks over at Tim again)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: ...sweetie-peetie-poopsy-whoppsie...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: Look out! 'ere I go again!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GRAEME: Wait! (presses a button on the wall; it flips over and presents
|
||
|
|
a modern mini-vomatorium, complete with aqua-pik and high-powered hose.)
|
||
|
|
There you are.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: Well, we're off now!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
G & B: WHAT?!?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: Well, now that Bum-fluff has domesticated me. No more care-free bachelor
|
||
|
|
days for me! We're settling down and raise a littler. (some build-up about
|
||
|
|
a location)
|
||
|
|
BILL: What, are you off to Bognor?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(general discouragement by G & B)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: You can't expect Bum-fluff and I to share this...this (with
|
||
|
|
disdain) bachelor pad with you two. I mean, just look around--look, look
|
||
|
|
at that beanbag, and your computer, and--is it me or is that giant "G"
|
||
|
|
on the door starting to look a bit goofy?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GRAEME: Oh, that'd be because its been twenty years since this was
|
||
|
|
recorded. A bit dated, you know...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(TIM goes over to his "royal" desk and chair and starts to pack his
|
||
|
|
things. This includes the "royal" telephone, the picture of Queen
|
||
|
|
Elizabeth on a motorcycle, and the Prince Charles triptych.)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(B puts his arm around G and starts to whisper conspiratorially)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GRAEME: Eeewww! You're standing _entirely_ too close to me. (B. backs
|
||
|
|
off) And quit saying "Sssss-ssssss." I can't tell what you're saying.
|
||
|
|
Now, this is serious. Do you know what this means?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: Yeah. It means we haven't got a proper pecking order anymore!
|
||
|
|
It'll be just you an' me...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GRAEME: No, no. It means we'll be two pathetic middle-aged bachelors
|
||
|
|
sharing a flat...too close to a Neil Simon play if you know what I mean.
|
||
|
|
("Odd Couple" theme starts playing.) This is about camaraderie,
|
||
|
|
friendship, loyalty....and besides Tim's the only one who knows how to
|
||
|
|
type.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: Aye, and 'e does the washing up...but what can we do? I'm
|
||
|
|
panickin'!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GRAEME: Don't panic! I have--(turns towards his computer)--a
|
||
|
|
solution...(turns around with hypodermic needle). This mixture of carrot
|
||
|
|
extract in an alcohol solution will solve all our domestic cleanliness
|
||
|
|
problems.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: HEY! Wait a minute--'e's a flippin' rabbit! 'e LIKES
|
||
|
|
carrots--how's that gonna cure 'im?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GRAEME: It probably won't...but it seems just about as rational as
|
||
|
|
anything else we do.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: (slap-happy grin) Way-hey! Right you are!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(G and B sneak up on T, apply alcohol to sterilize his "bunny" ear, and
|
||
|
|
G. jabs the needle in. Tim is blissfully unaware while he's tending to
|
||
|
|
his mate--ahem, rabbit.)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TIM: ...Ah, wha...what am I doing drooling all over a bunny?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: ITS WORKED!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GRAEME: Knew it would.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BILL: (jumping up and down like a little kid) I got this great guitar riff
|
||
|
|
to play at this part!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Tape ends)
|
||
|
|
*Note: This is not written by the Goodies; April Fool's and all that
|
||
|
|
rot.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
USENET VOX POP
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Editor's note: It is not very often that we are fortunate enough to meet
|
||
|
|
people we idolize. In the following, Paul Rodenhuis describes what happened
|
||
|
|
when he was able to meet one of his heroes, the legendary ex-Goon Spike
|
||
|
|
Milligan.)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
On Tuesday April 4th, I was in the audience of about 350 people at a
|
||
|
|
book reading by Spike Milligan. It was arranged by the local book shop, and
|
||
|
|
was advertised in the local press last week. I rang on Monday for a ticket
|
||
|
|
was told the place was full. I rang again yesterday and was told that if I
|
||
|
|
was alone, and prepared to stand at the back, it would be OK. I arrived
|
||
|
|
just before 8 p.m., and most seats were filled. There were some in the back
|
||
|
|
row so I took one.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
The event took place in a shopping centre; Woolworth's supermarket,
|
||
|
|
book shop, coffee shop side by side. They had removed the tables from the
|
||
|
|
coffee shop and filled it with chairs. The book shop had a wide selection of
|
||
|
|
Spike's books on display including the latest, 'Lady Chatterley's Lover
|
||
|
|
according to Spike Milligan.'
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spike arrived with his wife Sheila and a few others. They were
|
||
|
|
met by the book shop proprietor and presumably publishers reps. The
|
||
|
|
local paper had a photographer present to record the moment:
|
||
|
|
(not too many world-renowned celebrities in Gordon, on the North
|
||
|
|
side of Sydney). As Spike was talking, the photographer lined
|
||
|
|
up for a shot; Spike held his hand up. She took the shot anyway,
|
||
|
|
and went over (or was called over) to Spike. He reprimanded her
|
||
|
|
with 'You should have asked me first.'
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spike is 80 I think. He looked quite well, but a little doddery
|
||
|
|
on his feet, i.e. shuffled a little. He wore casual clothes. He was
|
||
|
|
introduced to the crowd by the book shop prop with the words "...and the
|
||
|
|
publisher said 'How would you like Spike?' and I replied, 'Anyway you can
|
||
|
|
get him here.'"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Then followed a great disappointment for the people including me
|
||
|
|
up the back; the PA was not very loud (OK when the proprietor spoke), but
|
||
|
|
Spike spoke in a very soft voice and not close to the mike.
|
||
|
|
We strained to catch a word here or there. The proprietor moved the mike
|
||
|
|
closer to his mouth, but to little effect; most of the pearls
|
||
|
|
were lost. He first read some of his poems, then read from a
|
||
|
|
book. All the while we strained to hear him against the
|
||
|
|
Muzak (TM) and beep-beep-beeps of the scanners in the supermarket.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
After about half an hour or so he finished and asked for any
|
||
|
|
questions. One was 'how did he get the name Spike?' The reply
|
||
|
|
(or what I could catch of it) was that it is a standard nickname
|
||
|
|
for Milligan (his father was Spike too), much in the way that
|
||
|
|
Taffy is a nickname for Jones, or Chalky for White. He then added
|
||
|
|
'What a boring question!'
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Another question was 'What was the first thing he wrote?'
|
||
|
|
He recited a limerick which he wrote in the war, something about
|
||
|
|
Bedser, finishing up dead, Sir. When asked how old he was at
|
||
|
|
the time, he said '23, but why do you ask? I could make it
|
||
|
|
24 if you like! Any more boring questions?'
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I can't remember if there were any more. After that was the
|
||
|
|
book signing. The table was set up near the back row, so at least
|
||
|
|
we gained something from our position. I bought the LCatSM and
|
||
|
|
brought along my 34-year-old "Dustbin of Milligan" (13/3 in 1961),
|
||
|
|
as well as the five LP Goon Show set. I was about 8th in line
|
||
|
|
and it must have been about 15 minutes before I was in his presence.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
While waiting for this moment in my life's history, I had been
|
||
|
|
chatting to (not up) the lady photographer about the reprimand
|
||
|
|
she had received. I then asked if she would take my picture with
|
||
|
|
him. This was done, while I chatted with him, scintillating stuff
|
||
|
|
like, 'I bought this more than 30 years ago', 'how long will you
|
||
|
|
be out here this time?' (till 17th April), etc., etc. Then I asked
|
||
|
|
him, 'Have you heard of the Information Superhighway?' He obviously
|
||
|
|
hadn't, and I tried to explain about a worldwide network of computers
|
||
|
|
which people use to exchange information, how there is a newsgroup
|
||
|
|
for the Goon Shows, etc. He didn't understand, thinking I was
|
||
|
|
talking about Ham Radio, and made comments about sitting up
|
||
|
|
in a room asking someone in China how the weather is. (I'm a Ham
|
||
|
|
and have in fact done this).
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
He wrote with a felt tip marker, quite slowly and carefully.
|
||
|
|
After doing the two books, I said 'Can I be a complete groveling
|
||
|
|
bastard and ask you to sign the record set too?' 'Yes, all right',
|
||
|
|
he said, 'where will I sign it?' There was a white patch on the right
|
||
|
|
front side which I pointed to, but he said 'I write pretty big, there
|
||
|
|
isn't enough room', so we turned it over. There are the photos of him,
|
||
|
|
Peter Sellers and Harry Secombe. He signed over his photo.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
At this stage, there must have been 50 or more people waiting;
|
||
|
|
at the rate he was going, he would have been there a long time, or
|
||
|
|
they would have had to leave without a signature.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
So, I achieved what I wanted, to see the man and get his mark on
|
||
|
|
my books. It would have been a bonus to have actually heard him
|
||
|
|
read some of his work.
|
||
|
|
________________________________________________________________
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
*YET ANOTHER BRITCOMEDY DIGEST WORLD EXCLUSIVE*
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"Bottom Hospital"
|
||
|
|
-----------------
|
||
|
|
A script by Colin Campbell <col@baracuda.demon.co.uk> or
|
||
|
|
<col@bibble.mettav.exnet.com>. (c) Colin Campbell 1994
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Based on the characters and situations created by Adrian Edmondson and Rik
|
||
|
|
Mayall (c) 1991 - 1994
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
This script can be included, unedited, in on or off-line non-commercial or
|
||
|
|
amateur magazines and can be enacted publicly by non-commercial theater
|
||
|
|
groups without author's restriction. Current BBC/Edmondson/Mayall
|
||
|
|
restrictions upon "Bottom" performances apply - check beforehand. The
|
||
|
|
author cannot be held responsible for anything. Commercial use of this
|
||
|
|
script is currently prohibited.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SCENE 1: The living room. Richie is sitting in front of the telly and is
|
||
|
|
engrossed in a DIY programme. Eddie is sitting at the kitchen table on his
|
||
|
|
own, looking rather glum. A stolen shopping trolley sits where the
|
||
|
|
hat stand used to be. A number of grotty coats are stuffed in the trolley.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TV: ..and it is vitally important to get the right depth of hole in the
|
||
|
|
wall if you are to successfully attach the type B bracket..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Right depth of hole. Of course, yes. Did you hear the man, Eddie?
|
||
|
|
We've got to get our holes the right depth.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie sighs)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Look, Eddie, come on and snap out of it. Things could be much worse, you
|
||
|
|
know.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Oh bugger off.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (patronising) I know what it's like, you know. We've all gone
|
||
|
|
through the same thing. I feel for you, Eddie.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Piss off.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Charming attitude you've got there, Edward. You really know how
|
||
|
|
to be nice to people, don't you?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Look, just sod off, will you!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Well, if that's your attitude then you can sit there on your own
|
||
|
|
and be miserable all day.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Good.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: And you're making me miss this DIY programme.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie watches the telly for about 15 seconds)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
TV: ..pay particular attention to the connection of the leveled panel
|
||
|
|
to the front edge of the..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Look, Eddie. Come on. Don't be like that. I didn't mean it, you
|
||
|
|
know...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (jumping up) Oh yes, of course you didn't mean it! Yeah, you were
|
||
|
|
just walking along the road when you saw me and Ruth together and you just
|
||
|
|
accidentally had to come running up to me and shout, what was it again? Oh
|
||
|
|
yes. (fake Richie voice) "Eddie the doctor rang up and said you had VD!"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: You don't understand my problem, Eddie.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Your problem?? What about my problem?! I lost the only girl I ever
|
||
|
|
cared about! And it's all your fault!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: You've had loads of women, Eddie.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: But she was so...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: ..easy to lay?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Because if she was then you should've told me about it.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Shut up. What do you know about it anyway? You're still a
|
||
|
|
v-i-r-g-i-n!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: I am not!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: You are!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: I am not!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Okay then, name all the women you've slept with?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (Worried) No, I don't have to.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Name one woman you've slept with, then.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: No.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: See! You only had one girlfriend and you never even got a shag
|
||
|
|
from her!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: That's cos you shagged her!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Well, women are attracted to a hunk like me.. Just like Ruth was
|
||
|
|
and you had to go and ruin it for me, you bastard!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: She was just some tarty bint, Eddie.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Right! That does it!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie goes over to the table and grab hold of one leg and starts pulling
|
||
|
|
at it)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: That's it, Eddie, do some DIY to take your mind off her.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(a snapping sound signifies the leg coming off. Eddie brandishes it
|
||
|
|
viciously)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: I'll just do a bit of DIY on your head!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: No, Eddie! You mustn't!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Richie, I must!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie chases Richie around the flat. Lots of stuff gets smashed -
|
||
|
|
including the TV when Richie tips it into Eddie's path. Richie ends up by
|
||
|
|
climbing on the table and falling off when it collapses due to a missing
|
||
|
|
leg.)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Close up of Richie's face as Eddie's shadow looms menacing)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (really terrified) Oh Eddie, don't do it. Please! No! No, I
|
||
|
|
didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. Look, here's some money (Richie fumbles
|
||
|
|
for wallet and takes out some notes) Take it, take my money.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (Thoughtfully) Hmmm.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (Slyly) Go on, just my way of saying sorry. Take this (looks at
|
||
|
|
notes and chooses smallest one) er, fiver.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: I'll take the lot, if you don't mind.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Come on, old pal. Old chum. That's my dole money.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Was. And it belongs to Eddie now, doesn't it? (shakes table leg
|
||
|
|
very near to Richie's head. Richie looks aghast) Doesn't it?!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yes.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Good.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (Getting up and pushing his hair back) So you forgive my little
|
||
|
|
transgression then, Eddie?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie goes to sit in on the sofa to watch the TV but gets angry when he
|
||
|
|
notices the mashed remains)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: You've busted the telly!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: You weren't watching it anyway, were you? It doesn't matter now
|
||
|
|
anyway since we're pals again. (pause) Listen, Eddie, lately I've been
|
||
|
|
thinking..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (sarcastically) Woo!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (pauses and glares at Eddie) I was thinking that since we're the
|
||
|
|
best of mates again we ought to do more things together. (Eddie looks
|
||
|
|
horrified) No, you know what I mean. God, Eddie you are so bloody
|
||
|
|
predictable even a blind person could read you like a book.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: What, you can still read then, can you?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Of course I can read! I'm not blind.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: The amount of masturbating you do it's a wonder you aren't
|
||
|
|
blind.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: I do not masturbate!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Well, how come we keep running out of tissues and toilet paper?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (panicking) Er... er! Er. That's cos you've been having so many
|
||
|
|
curries, Eddie. Yeah, that's it.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: I don't remember this.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: That's because you are always drunk, remember?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Well, it proves my point then, doesn't it?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Don't you get clever with me!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: That wouldn't be difficult, would it?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (waving the table leg) Right, that does it!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Come on then! It's a fight! (assumes his "fighting" stance)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(The doorbell rings)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Saved by the bell again, Eddie. Better luck next time.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie turns away from Eddie to go over to the sink. A bad idea. Eddie
|
||
|
|
hits Richie on the head with the table leg. Richie keels over onto the
|
||
|
|
floor, unconscious)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
FADE OUT
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
FADE IN
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SCENE 2: The hallway, just by the front door. Eddie enters, swinging his
|
||
|
|
table leg violently and creeps up to the door. The doorbell rings again.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Who is it? (No answer. The doorbell rings once more) Right, you're
|
||
|
|
going to get it, you trick or treating bastards!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie pulls open the door revealing two masked men. The fat one is
|
||
|
|
dressed in a pirate's outfit while the small one has a dirty sheet draped
|
||
|
|
over his head)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
What do you want?!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Pirate: All right Eddie?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Ghost: (unconvincingly) OoooOO!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Spudgun?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: Great disguise, isn't it? Me mum made it.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Ghost: I made mine.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Is that you, Dave, under there?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: Where am I?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Well, come on in boys. Come on in. (He ushers them inside and
|
||
|
|
shuts the door) Sorry about the mess but I couldn't be arsed tidying up.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: Beating up the trick or treaters again this year, eh?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Yeah, great stuff. They were loaded with all sorts of sweets and
|
||
|
|
things. And some money too!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Dave falls over)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Is he pissed already?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: Help him up, Eddie. He's not cut any eyeholes in his bedsheet.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Dave groans as they help him up)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: It's not a bedsheet. Got any booze in, Eddie?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: We drank it all on Halloween, remember?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: But Halloween's today!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No it's not. It was last week.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: Was it?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Yup.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(They move into the Lounge..)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SCENE 3: The lounge. Richie is lying on the floor. The lads enter: Dave
|
||
|
|
bumps into everything as he can't see under the bedsheet.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: So what's all the burning and banging going on outside then?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: It's Bonfire Night!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: Is it?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Yeah.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: So it's not some Vikings pillaging and raping London then?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: We missed Halloween!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No, you came round here and we all got pissed, remember?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: Did we? (thinks) Oh, yeah, I remember now. Yeah. That was where
|
||
|
|
we tied Richie up and tried to chop his head off?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: You've got it.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: I don't remember this.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: You don't even remember your wife's name.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: (Falls onto the sofa) I'm married?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie groans and starts twitching)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: (pointing at Richie) What's up with him?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: He attacked this table leg with his head and lost.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Dave gets off the sofa and staggers around bumping into things)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Ooohh! My head! What happened? (He sees the "Ghost" and screams)
|
||
|
|
Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! I've died! I'm in hell! I'm in hell!
|
||
|
|
(looks about) Eddie! What are you doing here?? (thinks) So hell is living
|
||
|
|
with Eddie, this fat pirate and a mental ghost, is it? That doesn't seem
|
||
|
|
very realistic...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(the ghost falls over the coffee table and lands on the remains of the
|
||
|
|
telly)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: Somebody get this bloody sheet off me!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Eddie, what's going on? Am I dead?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: You aren't dead, Rich.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: More's the pity.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Hang on! I know that voice! (approaches Spudgun and peers at him)
|
||
|
|
You're Eddie's foul mate Spudgun, aren't you? (Dave bumps into Richie.
|
||
|
|
Richie whirls around and looks contemptuously at the stained bedsheet
|
||
|
|
"ghost") Eurch! And you'll be that filthy bohemian alcoholic!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Don't talk to my friends like that!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: So what's with all the stupid costumes? I mean, Spudgun here is
|
||
|
|
obviously trying to be a pirate, but what is he (pointing at Dave)
|
||
|
|
supposed to be? Are you off to some secret fancy dress party then?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: I don't believe you. It was all a plan to go without me, wasn't
|
||
|
|
it? I want to come along with you. It's been ages since I was last at a
|
||
|
|
party. I wonder what sort of music they'll have. I'm a great dancer
|
||
|
|
(starts to dance embarrassingly) Yeah. Boogie on down, man!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: There isn't a party, Richie.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yes there is! Yes there is! (prods Spudgun repeatedly) Tell him,
|
||
|
|
Spudgun, tell him there's a party and that we're all going!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Spudgun looks at Eddie for some help. Eddie just shrugs)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: (resigned) Okay, we're going to a very top secret exclusive
|
||
|
|
party.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: I knew it! I knew it! You can't pull the wool over old Richie's
|
||
|
|
eyes.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie and Spudgun look at each other)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Well, I'll have to cancel that other party I was going to..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: What party?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Well, you know. Being such a popular guy, Eddie, I get invited
|
||
|
|
to loads and loads of parties. I was going to one this evening, in fact.
|
||
|
|
Loads of famous people going there as well, and me.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Richie, the last party you were invited to was when you were 8
|
||
|
|
and Spudgun's mum sent you a card by mistake.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Rubbish, I go out partying every Friday night!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: (To Eddie) Yeah, and we've still not got the stains out of the
|
||
|
|
carpet yet.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: (getting up of the floor) Did somebody mention a party?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: (whispering to Dave) There isn't a party.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: What?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: I'll just phone up the lads and say I can't come. (Eddie makes
|
||
|
|
a face)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie stomps off over to the phone, pushing Dave out of the way. Dave
|
||
|
|
ends up on the broken remains of the telly again)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie picks up the phone and dials a seemingly-random number. He starts
|
||
|
|
speaking before it's answered)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Hello? Hi there, it's Richie Rich here. Put me through to Ken Brannagh
|
||
|
|
immediately.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(The phone is answered now, and some old lady speaks..)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Phone: Hello?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Hi Ken, It's Richie here.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Phone: Eh? Who's Ken? There's no Ken here.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yeah, saw you at the Oscars the other day, mate. You looked
|
||
|
|
great.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Phone: Eh?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Look, mate. I can't make the party tonight..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Phone: What party? You've got the wrong number...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: So you'll have to tell your lovely wife Emma that I won't be
|
||
|
|
there. Tell her I'll give her a good shagging next week!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Phone: This must be a crossed line or something.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yeah, ha-ha-ha-ha, that's a good one. I'll tell Tony Hopkins that
|
||
|
|
when I see him next week.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Phone: Are you mad? Go away! Or I'll phone the police..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(The phone is hung up. A loud dialing tone can be heard)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yeah, I'll catch you later. What? Oh yeah, I'll tell Eddie that
|
||
|
|
you like me much more than him. Okay then. Chow!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie puts the phone down. Camera zooms out slightly to see Eddie,
|
||
|
|
Spudgun and Dave right next to Richie. They've been listening all along..)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(worried) Yes?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Nothing. Ken will be missing you tonight, won't he lads?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave & Spudgun: Yeah.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: What's wrong with you? I know you are jealous of my wide circle
|
||
|
|
of friends. (Embarrassed pause) Anyway, where are we going then?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Well, there's that municipal fireworks display in Ravenscourt
|
||
|
|
Park we could go to..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yeah, excellent idea. Sitting by the open fire, toasting
|
||
|
|
marshmallows, singing campfire songs...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: ..except that you got banned from there last year, remember?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: That big ugly park keeper has got it in for me, you know. It's
|
||
|
|
terrible, he really ought to respect the upper class people like me more.
|
||
|
|
It's not like I was doing anything wrong, was it?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: But you set fire to the swans!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: I hardly call that prankish schoolboy jest a banning offense,
|
||
|
|
do you?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No, but the judge did.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Judges are all stupid anyway.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: I was in court once.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yeah, and we can all guess what for. You filthy pervert! You
|
||
|
|
should be hanged!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: No, I was a witness.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie and Spudgun start laughing)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: You despicable bastard! Imagine grassing on your mates! I hope
|
||
|
|
you are ashamed of yourself!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: The judge said I was, er, wossname. Er. (Richie looks bewildered)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (To Richie) What Dave means is that he saw some idiot filling the
|
||
|
|
pond with petrol and throwing in a lit match.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie becomes mad faced)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: You bastard! You bastard! You grassed me up!!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Well, it looks like you'll have to stay home. Don't worry, Rich,
|
||
|
|
I'll bring you a couple of sparklers back.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie, Spudgun and Dave turn to go but Richie leaps out and blocks the
|
||
|
|
door)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Get out of the way, Richie!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: No, you're not going without me!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Yes we are. Spudgun, if you'd be so kind as to do the
|
||
|
|
honours..?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: Be my pleasure, mate.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Spudgun grabs Richie and squeezes him. Richie wriggles and screams. Eddie
|
||
|
|
bops Richie on the head and they throw him into the shopping trolley)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: You filthy back-stabbing Judases! (Moves some coats about.. Gets
|
||
|
|
an idea) No. Listen, Eddie. Listen. I've got a great idea how I can come
|
||
|
|
along with you. It's great! Listen. You've all got fancy dress on, right?
|
||
|
|
So, if I wear a costume then they won't know it's me, will they? Fiendish!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(The lads look resigned to their fate)
|
||
|
|
And, I've got the perfect disguise as well.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie looks expectantly at Eddie. Eddie is confused)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
You are supposed to ask me what my perfect disguise is!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: But we know what your disguise is.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: You do?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: A big fat ugly girlie virgin tosser.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (laughs) Oh, ha-ha. No, Eddie. I'm going as a Guy.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (to Spudgun) I always said he was a big girl's blouse, didn't
|
||
|
|
I?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: God, you really really are stupid, aren't you? I'm going as Guy
|
||
|
|
Fawkes of course. As in "A penny for the Guy"? And the best thing is that
|
||
|
|
I'll make some money out of it!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (interested) Money?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yeah, I'll sit in this trolley, and you can ask people for
|
||
|
|
money.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (slyly) Hmmmm.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: It's a great plan. Nothing can go wrong!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Okay dokey, matey. You sit in the trolley and we'll push you
|
||
|
|
about and get paid money.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie wheels the trolley and Richie out of the lounge...)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SCENE 4: The hallway, just by the front door. Eddie enters, pushing the
|
||
|
|
trolley containing the jibbering Richie. Spudgun and the now de-bedsheeted
|
||
|
|
Dave Hedgehog enter behind.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: ..and I wonder how much I'll make. It's bound to be at least
|
||
|
|
twenty quid. Maybe even more.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie stops at the top of the stairs. Richie is facing Eddie so doesn't
|
||
|
|
see the stairs)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
.I might share the money with you, Eddie. But, obviously, since I came up
|
||
|
|
with the fantastic idea in the first place I'll get, say, #19.50 and you
|
||
|
|
can have the 50p. Hang on, you owe me a couple of quid anyway, don't you?
|
||
|
|
So that means you'll owe me...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(With a shove, Eddie pushes the trolley forwards over the top of the
|
||
|
|
stairs. A camera view of Richie, screaming as the trolley thunders down
|
||
|
|
the stairs..)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Oops.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(A loud crashing noise, followed by a splat)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Well, that's him taken care of. Right, fancy a drink lads?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spudgun: Not half!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
FADE OUT
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
FADE IN
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SCENE 5: The living room. The lads are all slumped in front of the broken
|
||
|
|
telly. Pizza boxes lie scattered on the floor. Many empty cans of lager
|
||
|
|
and bitter can be seen.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(The doorbell rings. Nobody stirs. The doorbell rings again and somebody
|
||
|
|
thumps on the door)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Voice: Open up! It's the police!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie awakens with a start. Thinks he must have dreamt it and relaxes
|
||
|
|
again)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Open up! It's the police!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie starts panicking. He kicks awake Spudgun and Dave)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Wake up! Wake up! Wake up, Spudgun! (shakes Spudgun awake) Dave,
|
||
|
|
wake up! Come on, wake up!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: What's the matter?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie It's the filth!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: Sorry, Eddie. I couldn't help myself..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No, it's the pigs!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Dave: What pigs?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Voice: I can hear you in there! Open this door!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (shouting) Okay! (Spudgun and Hedgehog grimace at their hangover
|
||
|
|
and moan) I'm coming.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SCENE 6: The hallway, just by the front door. Eddie enters, and opens the
|
||
|
|
door. Two savage-looking police officers shoulder their way in.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: This is police harassment!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Cop 1: Shut up now, Sir. We're looking for a Mr Edward Hitler. (Eddie
|
||
|
|
cringes) Ah, Mr Hitler.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Who? Never heard of him..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Cop 1: Don't waste our time, Mr Hitler. We've got some bad news for you.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (worried) Er. Oh?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Cop 1: Yes, your friend Richard has been taken to hospital..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (relieved) Phew, for a minute there I thought you were going to
|
||
|
|
give me some bad news. (fake laugh) Ha-ha!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Cop 2: He's been badly injured, Sir. He was found badly concussed and
|
||
|
|
inserted halfway through a wall...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: I'm always telling him to be careful when decorating...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Cop 1: .. and we're here to ask you a few questions..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (panicking) What? Oh no! Poor old Richie. I must go and see him
|
||
|
|
immediately. This is truly terrible...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Cop 1: You're not fooling us for one moment, Sir.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: You'd keep me away from my best pal in the whole world when he
|
||
|
|
needs me most? You heartless...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Cop 2: Very well, Sir. You can go and see him now. But we'll be back in
|
||
|
|
the morning to question you, Sir.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(A loud clattering and moaning comes from the lounge as the lads fall off
|
||
|
|
the sofa)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Ah, got some accomplices to hide, have we, Sir?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(The policeman pushes past Eddie and move off into the lounge. Eddie
|
||
|
|
panics again and runs down the stairs, shoving the younger policeman out
|
||
|
|
of the way)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SCENE 7: The hospital casualty department. Lots of dreary cubicles are
|
||
|
|
curtained off, while nurses scuttle busily about. No doctor can be seen. A
|
||
|
|
sign on the wall says "Access & Visa accepted" - a sign of the NHS
|
||
|
|
reforms. (Bad pun)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie enters. He is carrying a large brown paper bag containing
|
||
|
|
something. He looks around to see Richie. This proves fruitless. He
|
||
|
|
decides to peep into the cubicles but before he can look into the first
|
||
|
|
one there is a commotion from a cubical in the corner. The curtain bulges
|
||
|
|
as a figure presses against it from the inside. A scream followed by a
|
||
|
|
clang and a moan. The curtain is pulled open violently and an
|
||
|
|
angry/horrified nurse rushes out and almost knocks Eddie over)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Nurse: (muttering) Bastard! Bastard! Filthy, ugly...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie goes over to the cubical and looks inside. Richie lies upon a
|
||
|
|
[medical] trolley and looks a bit beaten up. His face is bruised quite
|
||
|
|
badly but he's okay apart from that.)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Hello Richie!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Eddie! What are you doing here?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: I thought I'd come in and see how you are. Here's some grapes.
|
||
|
|
(Eddie thrusts the paper bag into Richie's hands)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Thanks, old buddy. (Looks in the bag) It's empty!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No it's not.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yes it is!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No it's not!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (pulling out the grape "stalk") Well, I'm not eating this.
|
||
|
|
(Throws stuff on the floor)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Well, I was hungry, wasn't I? (Pause) So, how are you?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (acting) Oooohh. I'm in a bad way. I don't know if I'll last the
|
||
|
|
night, Eddie. Ooooh.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (nudging Richie) Some nice nurses around here, eh...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yeah, they'd all shag me if I wasn't in such a bad way.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Oh? So, what happened with that nurse?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: We had a difference of medical opinion. I asked her for another
|
||
|
|
bed-bath and she said no.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: How many bed-baths have you had anyway?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Four.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Oh.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Then I asked her if she's seen the Singing Detective and she
|
||
|
|
twatted me with a kidney dish!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie wanders round to the front of the bed where a medical clipboard is
|
||
|
|
hanging)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (picking up clipboard) So, what's the matter with you then?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Put that down! It's private! I'm not having you looking at my
|
||
|
|
details. You were the one who put me in here in the first place, you
|
||
|
|
despicable disciple of Satan!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: I'm only looking. And it wasn't me who put you in here. I wouldn't
|
||
|
|
do such a thing...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: It was you, Eddie. I saw you push me down the stairs.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: You've had a nasty bump on the head, mate, and I'm not talking
|
||
|
|
about the self-inflicted ones. It not surprising that you don't remember
|
||
|
|
things straight, is it?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: I remember everything, mate.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Go on then..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Don't believe me, huh? Well, you, Spudgun and that other little
|
||
|
|
idiot were off to a fancy dress party and you didn't want me to come along
|
||
|
|
so instead of saying "Richie, we'd like to go on our own since you are so
|
||
|
|
obviously our superiors and have lots of other parties to go to" you
|
||
|
|
attempt to kill me! Charming!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: But Rich, that was 6 months ago!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (pre-panic) What?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: It was 6 months ago.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (really panicking) What?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: You've been in a coma for 6 months. I came in every day to bring
|
||
|
|
you grapes and read you stories hoping you'd come round and you have!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (nervously) Ha-ha-ha. You can't fool me. Ha-ha-ha.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Would I lie to you, old mate?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yes.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Well, normally I would, that's true but this is different.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Oh.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(The curtains are drawn back and another nurse enters, carrying a bedpan)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Nurse: Here's that bedpan you wanted.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Nurse approaches Richie and undoes his pajama bottoms. Richie goes red.
|
||
|
|
Eddie giggles)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Not now!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Nurse: Pardon?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Shoo, go away. I'm talking to my friend here. Come back later.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Nurse: I'm not a bloody waitress. I'll stand here and wait if I have
|
||
|
|
to.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (looks heavenward) Tsk. What has become of the glorious National
|
||
|
|
Health Service? You're all a bunch of money-grabbing zealots now, d'you
|
||
|
|
know that? This is what I pay my taxes for, is it? To be treated like some
|
||
|
|
commoner? (shouts) I've been in a coma for 6 months, and this is what I
|
||
|
|
wake up to, is it??!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Nurse looks questioningly at Eddie. Eddie shrugs)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (to Nurse) He's always like this.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Nurse: (To Richie) Are you going to use this bedpan on your own or shall
|
||
|
|
I call the porters again?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: But I can't use it just now!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Nurse: Why?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (embarrassed) Well, I'm, er, um, indisposed.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (loudly, so that other patients hear) What he means is that he's
|
||
|
|
got a stiffie.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (horrified) Eddie!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (to nurse) Mind you, it's so terribly small you probably wouldn't
|
||
|
|
notice it..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (to Eddie) You bastard!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Nurse: (to Richie) Don't worry, Mr Richard. I've seen it all before..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: You what? You've been feeling me up when I was in the coma? My
|
||
|
|
god! You're all sex mad...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (taking clipboard and leaving cubicle) I'll just get a cup of
|
||
|
|
coffee.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SCENE 8: Outside Richie's cubical in the casualty department. Eddie
|
||
|
|
stands close by so that he can still hear what's going on inside.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie can still be heard gibbering away to the nurse)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: ..I bet you and your friends are all lesbians as well. Yes. You
|
||
|
|
are, I can tell. You're..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Nurse: Shut up! Shut up! You're insane, Mr Richard.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: I'm insane?? At least I don't sexually assault comatose patients
|
||
|
|
in a lesbian orgy romp!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Nurse: (shouting) Doctor! I need some help in here!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Shouting and sounds of a struggle. Eddie takes this opportunity to get
|
||
|
|
out a pen and scribble some things on the clipboard. A doctor appears and
|
||
|
|
makes for the cubicle. Eddie hands him the clipboard)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (to Doctor) Here, you'll need this.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Doctor: Stand back, please.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(The doctor enters the cubicle and a vicious struggle begins. Eventually,
|
||
|
|
the commotion dies down and the doctor re-emerges. He's covered is sweat
|
||
|
|
and a bruise is developing above his left eye)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Are you a friend of his?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No. He's my flat mate. Oh, by the way doctor...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Doctor: Yes?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Is he going do die? He's an organ donor, you know. In fact, he was
|
||
|
|
only telling me yesterday that he'd donate all his organs straight away -
|
||
|
|
you don't even have to wait 'til he's snuffed it. So, I'll hold the bucket
|
||
|
|
while you start cutting, okay?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(The nurse emerges from the cubicle, her uniform all ripped. She glares at
|
||
|
|
Eddie and leaves)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Doctor: (ignoring Eddie's attempt at flogging bits of Richie's body..)
|
||
|
|
He's a very dangerous man and quite psychologically deranged. His charts
|
||
|
|
show him to be, well, very abnormal. (Looking at clipboard Eddie defaced)
|
||
|
|
His blood pressure is all over the place. I'll have a word with the
|
||
|
|
psychiatrist Reg and see if we can't admit him.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Yes! That's great news! (Doctor eyes him suspiciously) I mean, er,
|
||
|
|
this way he'll be cured, won't he? Erm. (pause) Er, will he get electric
|
||
|
|
shock treatment?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Doctor: No.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (sigh) Pity.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Doctor: He was shouting about being in a coma for six months. (Eddie
|
||
|
|
looks worried) Do you know why?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No. Um.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Doctor: And he was also saying that a group of lesbian nurses were
|
||
|
|
feeling him up.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Yes, well. Sounds like a rubber wallpaper case to me.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Doctor: Don't talk to him as you could set off another paranoid attack.
|
||
|
|
I'll be back shortly.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Doctor walks off. Eddie waits until doctor is gone and sneaks into the
|
||
|
|
cubicle)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SCENE 9: Inside Richie's cubical in the casualty department. Richie has
|
||
|
|
been strapped down to the trolley and his mouth has been taped over to
|
||
|
|
stop him speaking.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie looks imploringly at Eddie)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: You've been a bit of a naughty boy, haven't you?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: MMmmmmmmmmMMM!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Pardon?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (struggling) MMMmmmmMMmmmmmmmm!!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: I can't hear what you're saying. (Richie attempts to wriggle but
|
||
|
|
can't) Blimey, people'd pay good money to be tied up like that. (Richie
|
||
|
|
goes berserk) Okay okay, calm down. (Richie goes all limp. Pause) Did you
|
||
|
|
see Emmerdale Farm last night? (Notices Richie can't speak. Grabs the tape
|
||
|
|
and pulls it)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (scream, ending up as swearing) AAaarrggg You bastard! You
|
||
|
|
bastard!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: (confused) What've I done?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: What've you done?? What've you done!! You've put me in a bloody
|
||
|
|
loony bin, you diseased mongrel leper! When I get out of this you are
|
||
|
|
really really going to pay for this!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Look, do you want to get out or don't you?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Of course I do! I'm not insane!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Well, let's come to some arrangement, shall we? Now, let's see.
|
||
|
|
Hmm. Yes, this rent money you've been after.. well I think it's only right
|
||
|
|
that we scrap it. (Richie is angry) In fact, I'm sure that you'll be so
|
||
|
|
grateful that you won't ever charge me rent ever again, will you? (Richie
|
||
|
|
glares at Eddie) Oh, and you'll be so grateful that you'll start paying me
|
||
|
|
rent. Won't you?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: You backstabbing underhand little c..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Because if not you'll just have to spend the rest of your life
|
||
|
|
wearing pajamas and talking to a dribbling idiot.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: I do that already. Look, just get me out of this. (Painfully)
|
||
|
|
Please, Eddie. Go on, please. Please? Pleasepleaseplease?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Give me your flat.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: What?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Your flat, you'll give it to me, won't you?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (quickly, as if he's got his fingers crossed) Yes, I'll give you
|
||
|
|
my flat.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Ahaaaaa!! Hahahaaaaaaaa! (cunningly) And pay me rent money?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (struggle) Yes yes. Now just get me out of here, will you!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Righty bloke dokey matey me old flapper.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie undoes the restraints holding Richie to the trolley. Richie bounces
|
||
|
|
up and starts hitting Eddie. Eddie hits Richie back. Richie falls over.
|
||
|
|
Panting, they glare at each other)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
What the bloody hell are you doing, you madman?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: You bastard! You bastard! You bastard! (goes into his fighting
|
||
|
|
stance)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: So, you want some more, do you?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yeah! (pause) Oh, Eddie?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: What?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (pointing behind Eddie) Who is that?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie turns round to look at the person, who doesn't exist. Richie takes
|
||
|
|
this opportunity to take a swing at him. He misses. Eddie turns back round
|
||
|
|
again, not noticing that Richie took a swipe at him. Richie looks
|
||
|
|
innocently around)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Listen, mate. Let's call it even and get the hell out of here, eh?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Well..... Okay then.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Right, you turn 'round while I put on some clothes. (Eddie turns
|
||
|
|
around) I don't want you to spy on my enormous todger. I know you're
|
||
|
|
jealous of me anyway.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie begins to take off his pajamas. Eddie opens the cubicle's
|
||
|
|
curtains. Richie doesn't notice)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(We get a pan round of the casualty department, each cubicle can see
|
||
|
|
Richie in his underwear and everybody is laughing)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Shock) Eddie! You despicable bastard!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Yup! That's me!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(A doctor enters and sees all the commotion. He calls for assistance and,
|
||
|
|
after lots of fighting Richie is restrained and tied back onto the
|
||
|
|
trolley)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Doctor: (to Eddie) Now, if you'd like to leave us we've got to give Mr
|
||
|
|
Richard here his enema.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Richie reacts predictably)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie is ushered from the cubicle and the curtains are closed. We are
|
||
|
|
looking at Eddie in front of the curtains. Silhouettes are visible on the
|
||
|
|
curtain)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Enema?? I don't want an enema!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Doctor: According to your chart you are due to have 2 enemas an hour for
|
||
|
|
the next day.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: What??!! Eddie, help me! Help!!!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Sorry, Rich, but I don't want to get my suit all messed up.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Keep away from me! Oohh! Bloody hell! What're you doin' with
|
||
|
|
that? No! NO! You touch me with that and I'll...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Doctor: This won't hurt a bit..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: ARRGRGRGRGRGRGHHHHHHH!!!!!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
FADE OUT
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
FADE IN
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SCENE 10: The cubicle (again). Richie is lying on the trolley
|
||
|
|
(unrestrained) and looking in a great deal of pain. Eddie enters.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: So, how are you feeling?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Bloody terrible. How do you think I'd be feeling?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: It doesn't count.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: What doesn't?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: You're still a virgin, Rich.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: (Glaring at Eddie) You scum. It was all your fault!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: No it wasn't!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yes it was - according to the doctor they hadn't put me down for
|
||
|
|
any enemas. There's only one person who would've done that. (Glares at
|
||
|
|
Eddie - Eddie gives in)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: It was just a joke, Richie.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Yes, you're a real Party Animal, aren't you? Give all your
|
||
|
|
friends enemas and have a right laugh, yeah. Makes you Mister bloody
|
||
|
|
Popularity, I'll bet!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Eddie: Oh, come on, you'd have done the same thing if you had the chance.
|
||
|
|
You're just suffering from some of the anti-insanity drugs they gave you..
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(While Eddie is talking, Richie climbs off the trolley and picks up a
|
||
|
|
bucket full of the aftermath of his enema.. A close-up of the bucket, with
|
||
|
|
the contents bubbling or something would be good)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
.bit of a waste of time really. You're a total breadbasket case, mate.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie: Eddie?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Eddie turns round and Richie goes to tip the bucket over his head)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Freeze frame just at the moment where the gunk would start falling)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
(Sound continues though... a "sploshhh" noise followed by Eddie going
|
||
|
|
"Urrgrgh!")
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
FIN
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Cast Of Characters
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Richie Rik Mayall
|
||
|
|
Eddie Adrian Edmondson
|
||
|
|
Spudgun Steven O'Donnell
|
||
|
|
Dave Hedgehog Christopher Ryan
|
||
|
|
The Doctor Roger Brierley
|
||
|
|
Cop 1 Jonathan Stratt Nurse 1x
|
||
|
|
Cop 2 Robert McKewley Nurse 2x
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
__________________________________________________________
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
*NET.COMEDY
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
James Kew, our regular net.comedy columnist, is finishing work on his thesis
|
||
|
|
(or so I hear *snigger*). This month's net.comedy courtesy of
|
||
|
|
<mla@dolby.com>. Thank you, mla@dolby.com, known to some as Mark Atherton.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spam Haiku
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
haiku (hi'koo) An unrhymed Japanese lyric poem having a fixed
|
||
|
|
3-line 17-syllable form.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spam (spam) (undefined in Webster's: possibly undefinable)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
With that in mind.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Pink tender morsel,
|
||
|
|
Glistening with salty gel.
|
||
|
|
What the hell is it?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
-----------
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Ears, snouts and innards,
|
||
|
|
A homogeneous mass.
|
||
|
|
Pass another slice.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
-----------
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Cube of cold pinkness
|
||
|
|
Yellow specks of porcine fat.
|
||
|
|
Give me a spork please.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
------------
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Old man seeks doctor.
|
||
|
|
"I eat SPAM daily", he says.
|
||
|
|
Angioplasty.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
-----------
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Highly unnatural,
|
||
|
|
The tortured shape of this "food".
|
||
|
|
A small pink coffin.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
-----------
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Watch the pink slab fry
|
||
|
|
Its grease can lubricate eggs
|
||
|
|
Get ketchup ready
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
-----------
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Spam on Wonder bread
|
||
|
|
He's allergic to sulfites
|
||
|
|
Hives come after lunch
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
-----------
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Pressed, the cold slice soothes
|
||
|
|
Eye, a black-and-blue shiner
|
||
|
|
Spam, what useful stuff
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Parts of pigs o' plenty.
|
||
|
|
Sumptuous feet and tails,
|
||
|
|
Rub amber gel through hair.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
You don't want to know,
|
||
|
|
What they put in that tin can,
|
||
|
|
It's scary to think.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Drop a pig in a blender,
|
||
|
|
Add salt and dye:
|
||
|
|
The recipe for Spam.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Have you ever lost anything?
|
||
|
|
It's in that one little can,
|
||
|
|
Of Spam.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
In the same manner as we,
|
||
|
|
lick envelopes to seal them,
|
||
|
|
cows lick Spam.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Did you ever wonder,
|
||
|
|
Where rats go when they die?
|
||
|
|
Spam knows where they go.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
QUOTE-O'-THE-MONTH:
|
||
|
|
===================
|
||
|
|
Note to readers: I will keep quoting Red Dwarf until you email me
|
||
|
|
(melinda@cathouse.org) quotes from other British comedies. A threat? Nay,
|
||
|
|
say I--a treat! :P
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Rimmer: "I don't want you to panic, Arnold; I want you to stay
|
||
|
|
absolutely calm. I'm coming out in a moment, and I want you
|
||
|
|
to keep your cool. Are you ready? Here I come!"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
[head emerges from table]
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"There, that wasn't too bad, was it? Look, we've found a stasis
|
||
|
|
leak on floor 16. I'm dead now, and you're not, but if I save
|
||
|
|
you, you won't die, so I won't die, and you won't be dead
|
||
|
|
either, and neither will I!"
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
=====
|
||
|
|
ETC.
|
||
|
|
=====
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Brenda Sharpe <aj471@freenet.carleton.ca> maintains the "RUMPOLE OF THE
|
||
|
|
BAILEY FAQ" for those die-hard fans who subscribe to alt.fan.rumpole.
|
||
|
|
http://www.cs.umbc.edu/~schott/rumpole
|
||
|
|
ftp://src.doc.ic.ac.uk/public/media/tv/collections/tardis/uk/drama/
|
||
|
|
RumpoleOfTheBailey/RumpoleOfTheBailey-FAQ
|
||
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
||
|
|
Andy Raffle <missus@raffle.demon.co.uk> maintains the "CARRY ON FAQ." It's
|
||
|
|
posted monthly to alt.comedy.british, rec.arts.tv.uk, and rec.arts.movies.
|
||
|
|
http://cathouse.org:8000/BritishComedy/CarryOnFilms/FAQ.html
|
||
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
||
|
|
Jeffrey Rice <jrice@pomona.edu> has created a "ARE YOU BEING SERVED?"
|
||
|
|
Home Page. He needs a fellow fan to produce a .gif of the "Grace Brothers"
|
||
|
|
logo to make it complete. Please email him if you can help.
|
||
|
|
http://humphries.pomona.claremont.edu/comedy.html
|
||
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
||
|
|
The editor wishes to shamelessly plug "BOOKS FOR THE AVID BRITCOMEDY FAN,"
|
||
|
|
posted monthly to alt.comedy.british. Also at:
|
||
|
|
http://cathouse.org/BritishComedy/Info/Booklist.html
|
||
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
||
|
|
There's a new P.G. Wodehouse FAQ -- "The Junior Ganymede Club Book,"
|
||
|
|
maintained by Susan Collicott <susan@pmel.noaa.gov>. Posted to
|
||
|
|
alt.fan.wodehouse. Also available via anonymous FTP:
|
||
|
|
ftp://ickenham.isu.edu/pub/PGW-/FAQ
|
||
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
||
|
|
Spam, spam, spam, spam -- Tired of reading spams on the net? Take a look
|
||
|
|
at Axel Boldt's "BLACKLIST OF INTERNET ADVERTISERS." The "fan mail" he
|
||
|
|
receives is quite amusing. Posted to news.answers.
|
||
|
|
http://math-www.uni-paderborn.de/~axel/BL/blacklist.html
|
||
|
|
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
CIRCULATION/SUBSCRIPTION INFO.:
|
||
|
|
===============================
|
||
|
|
Britcomedy Digest (ISSN 1077-6680) is a free electronic newsletter posted
|
||
|
|
monthly to alt.comedy.british and rec.arts.tv.uk.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
DELPHI: In the "UK-American Connexion" forum, cf171.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GENIE: In the "Showbiz" roundtable, page 185.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SUBSCRIPTIONS: To receive an issue every month in your emailbox, send your
|
||
|
|
email address to <melinda@cathouse.org.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
BACK ISSUES:
|
||
|
|
============
|
||
|
|
WWW:
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
SPECIAL NOTE TO READERS:
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Cool Site of the Day named cathouse.org as winner for Monday, May 8, 1995.
|
||
|
|
Due to the flood of people trying to access this site, Jason Heimbaugh has
|
||
|
|
created a web alias for cathouse. If one is busy, try the other.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
[US] http://cathouse.org/BritishComedy/BD/
|
||
|
|
OR...http://www.cathouse.org/BritishComedy/BD/
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
[UK] http://paul.acorn.co.uk:8080/Britcom/
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
FTP:
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Log on as "anonymous," giving your email account as your password.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
ftp://ftp.etext.org/pub/Zines/BritComedy
|
||
|
|
ftp://ftp.cathouse.org/pub/cathouse/british.humour/britcomedy.digest
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
GOPHER:
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
gopher://gopher.etext.org/11/Zines/BritComedy
|
||
|
|
gopher://cathouse.org:6969/11/british.humour/britcomedy.digest
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
YET ANOTHER SPECIAL NOTE TO READERS. THIS ONE IS SPECIAL, REALLY IT IS: The
|
||
|
|
editor is moving to England this summer. The next issue or issues may be
|
||
|
|
delayed somewhat. But BD will continue to be produced. Don't panic. And
|
||
|
|
don't take off your shoes!
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
P.S. Thanks to Jason Heimbaugh for working overtime to fix the problems
|
||
|
|
cathouse.org faced when it was named Cool Site of the Day. ;)
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|