textfiles/media/SCRIPTS/cash

(NOTE: The following is a transcript of the Young Ones episode "CASH" as
it was shown on American MTV in the mid-'80s.  I'm posting this strictly for
the enjoyment of myself and other YO fans, so if you have an archive, go
ahead and put it in. 

[square brackets indicate action or vital commentary on the scene]

{squigglies indicate stuff I'm not sure of.  Please email your
corrections, or post them to alt.comedy.british if you'd like some discussion}

I especially need help with the cast in this one.   *k*

Thanks to the following people from alt.comedy.british who've helped me with
some corrections: Adrian Adams, Ken Butler, Sigi Goode, Richard Green, Molly
Harbaugh, Alexander Lum, Gertjan von Oosten, T.W. Walsh, Andrew Wong, and
Chris.

---------------------------
Kristen (mirenda@panix.com)
Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball


****

THE YOUNG ONES

"CASH"   v1.1

Cast [in order of appearance]

Neil		--	Nigel Planer
Rick		--	Rik Mayall
Vyvyan		--	Adrian Edmondson
Mike		--	Christopher Ryan
Ghost 1		--	Mark Arden
Ghost 2		--	Stephen Frost
Neighbor	--	????
Announcer	--	????
God		--	Alan Freeman
Maniac		--	????
Police Chief	--	Alexei Sayle
M.C.		--	Lee Cornes
Warlock		--	????
Stonehenge	--	????
Hippie		--	????
Lorry Driver	--	????
Delivery Man	--	????

Ken Bishop's Nice Twelve:	Peter Brewis
				Simon Brint
				Stewart Copeland			
				Chris Difford
				Martin Dobson
				Derek Griffiths
				Jools Holland
				Rowland Rivron

[SCENE:  The guys' house, in the kitchen. Almost all the furniture is
gone, and Neil is wrapped in a dingy blanket. He takes some plates out of
the cupboard and puts them on the kitchen table. He turns to get cutlery
from the drawer and when looks a t the table, he is puzzled to find that
the plates have disappeared.  He turns back towards the cupboards, and is
startled to see that they, too have suddenly disappeared.

SCENE:  Rick's bedroom. His record player is playing {some old pop 		
song} and Rick is sitting on a chair, asleep over the first page of
_Das Kapital_. Suddenly, Vyv snatches the book from his hand 			
and the chair from under him; he also grabs the record player 			
and runs out of the room. Rick wakes up, incensed.]

RICK:  Vyvyan! You bastard!

[Rick runs into the hallway and shouts down the stairs]

RICK:  Vyvyan! You've got no respect for property!

[Rick starts running down the stairs but slips; he slides downstairs 
astride the bottom of the bannister, painfully taking the pegs down with 
him.]

[SCENE: The empty kitchen/dining area, where Mike and Vyv have a 
fire going in the fireplace. Vyv is burning the stair carpet, and 
is hacking apart Rick's record player with an ax for more firewood. 
Rick enters carrying what used to be the bannister.]

RICK:  Alright, what's the stair carpet doing on the fire?

VYV:  Burning, what's it look like?

RICK:  Oh, so you're burning the stair carpet, are you, Vyvyan? 
Well perhaps I'm being terribly old fashioned...

MIKE:  Rick! Where'd you find all that firewood?

RICK:  Um, eh...Between my legs.

VYV:  [Taking the wood from Rick]  Wish I'd thought of that.  

RICK:  Well, I wish you'd done it! I might want to have had children 
one day.

VYV:  What a revolting thought!  [Vyv throws the wood on the fire]

MIKE:  This calls for a celebration! Vyv, throw another record player 
on the fire.  

VYV:  Oh, certainly, Michael.  [Vyv throws Rick's record player 
in the fireplace]

RICK:  You bastard! That's my record player!

MIKE:  [to Vyv]  You said it was your record player.

VYV:  No, I didn't, Mike, I said "Let's throw Rick's record player on the 
fire, that'll be good for a laugh."  [Vyv gives Rick a smug look]

MIKE:  Oh, yeah, that's right. Yeah, it is yours, Rick.

RICK:  Yes, it is, now give it back!

VYV:  Okay.  

[He hands Rick one of the smouldering remains. Rick takes it, 
looks at it for a moment, then gives it back to Vyv in resigned 
frustration]

RICK:  [Almost in tears]  My parents gave me that record player after 
my O levels!

VYV:  And by the looks of it you failed them all.

RICK:  That's not true! I got a B for French, I got a C for divinity...

MIKE:  Look, Rick, we're all completely broke, so we've got to make 
sacrifices. I myself have generously donated my used tissue collection. 
And Vyvyan has burned averything Neil owns.

RICK:  Yes, well ever mind about all that now, I'm more interested 
in sorting out this O level business!  I got a four for   [Neil 
enters, pushing the kitchen table into the room. He pushes it right 
into Rick]   OWW!

VYV:  Sounds like supper's ready.  

[Vyv and Mike approach the table while Rick sulks in the corner. 
Neil begins attempting to nail down the plates with giant spikes; 
only the plates keep breaking.]

VYV:  Neil, we're not having broken crockery again? That's my recipe!

[Mike takes the only chair and sits at the table]

NEIL:  I don't seem to be able to nail the plates to the table without 
breaking them.

VYV:  Neil, Neil, Neil!  Nails aren't in the recipe.

NEIL:  I'm not cooking, Vyvyan, I'm just trying to nail the plates to 
the table.

VYV:  Neil, is it really necessary to nail the plates to the table? What
happens when we want to play Monopoly? Go directly to plate? Do not
pass plate nailed to the table by a stupid hippie?

NEIL:  No, no, guys, you don't understand. I've got something real 
scary to lay on you, okay, so, like, sit down.

RICK:  What do you mean, sit down? There's only one chair. Do you expect us
to all put our bottoms on that and catch horrible diseases off each other?

NEIL:  It's not important, Rick...

RICK:  Well I think it's rather important, actually! I happen to be rather
attached to my bottom.

VYV:  Well, I've got a couple of seats in my car.

RICK:  Alright, well we'll have to use them then.

VYV:  No...They're attached. I mean, you sit in them while you're driving.
I suppose I could drive the whole car in!

RICK:  No, no, no, better idea -- we'll go out there.

VYV:  Ah-ha!  [Rick and Vyv start walking out]

NEIL:  No, wait, guys, guys! What about my scary story?

[Meanwhile, Mike starts fiddling with the nails and plates]

VYV:  Oh, yeah, that's a point. We won't be able to hear Neil from out there.

RICK:  Well, you'll just have to make us a tape, Neil.

VYV:  No, that's not good. My cassette's bust.

RICK:  Well you'll just have to come out there with us.

VYV:  No, there's only two seats.

NEIL:  I could go in the boot.

VYV:  No, no, Neil. 'Cause if you so much as touch my car, I'm going to
kill you. Remember?

NEIL:  Oh, yeah.

MIKE:  Oh, Neil...  [Mike whipers something in Neil's ear]

NEIL:  Oh, yeah, great idea, Mike.  [to Vyv and Rick]  Hey, guys, 
look, I've got something real scary to lay on you, okay, so, like, 
squat down.

RICK:  Brilliant! Squatting! Youth control, no rent!  [Vyv, Neil, and Rick
squat down next to the table]

NEIL:  Okay, so listen...

RICK:  Neil, is it my imagination, or has this table shrunk?

NEIL:  That's what I've been trying to tall you for the last ten 
minutes, right!    [whispering]   Strange things keep happening in
this house. Furniture keeps disappearing. Plates keep, like, moving about 
the place. The table is shrinking. And last night, I found my guitar 
on the fire. Do you know what all this means?

VYV and RICK:  [nodding]  Yes, it means...

NEIL:  No, no...yeah! It means we've got a poltergoost!

[Dramatic music, thunderclap, scary noises]

MIKE:  Don't be stupid, Neil, there's no such thing!

RICK:  Don't be such a spazmo, Neil! There's no ghosts, there's no God,
there's a perfectly rational explanation for any kind of phenomena you 
might encounter.

NEIL:  Oh, yeah, well how do you explain the table shrinking, then?

RICK:  Uh, eh...

VYV:  Well, I did that, actually.

[Vyv stand up and grabs a chainsaw. Meanwhile, Mike successfully nails two
plates to the table. Vyv revs up the chainsaw and saws 
off each leg of  Mike's chair. The chair, however, seems to hover in the air.]

VYV:  See?...God! Mike's floating! How's that done, then?

NEIL:  Yeah, you see, I was right! It's the poltergoost! It's making him
float!

RICK:  [screaming]  Aaahhhhhh! Get a priest! Get a vicar! I believe 
in God! [Rick frantically crosses himself]

MIKE:  [in pain]  Never mind a priest, call an ambulance.

VYV:  Why, Mike?

MIKE:  I've just nailed my legs to the table.

[Scary noises and thunderclaps as the guys attend to Mike, and two ghosts
dressed in Elizabethan clothing and holding their severed heads in
their arms materialize in the room, unseen by the guys.]

GHOST1:  {????}  Do you know that they're saying? That Bacon wrote all of
Shakespeare's plays?

GHOST2:  Which bit of bacon?

GHOST1:  His hand!

GHOST2:  Bacon hasn't got hands.

GHOST1:  Look, I'm not prepared to discuss it.  All I'm saying is that they
found a manuscript in a packet of bacon.

GHOST2:  Codpiece face!

GHOST1:  What did you say?

GHOST2: I said, codpiece face!

GHOST1:  What did you say?

GHOST2: I said, codpiece face!

[the ghosts continue in this vein as they pass through the guy's wall into
the neighbor's house, the argument getting more and more heated.]

GHOST1:  What did you say?

GHOST2:  I said -- 

GHOST1:  Look, don't be evasive!

GHOST2:  Aw, sod it!  

[he head-butts GHOST1, knocking GHOST1's head out of his arms. GHOST1's
body walks around blindly looking for the head.  Meanwhile, we see a woman
sitting on the couch, oblivious to the ghosts]

GHOST2:  Let's go kick his teeth...Kick him!

[GHOST2's body kicks GHOST1's head, which is on the floor; GHOST1 bites
GHOST2's toe. GHOST2's body reels and drops his head in the woman's lap.
The woman farts loudly. The two now headless bodies flail at each other,
and the woman turns on the television. An announcer is sitting at a desk
giving an editorial.]

ANNOUNCER:  With Christmas only four months away, imagine that this desktop
is a crowded shopping street on a busy Saturday morning.  And say, for
instance, that this huge meringue   [he places a huge meringue on the
desktop]   filled with whipped cream is a young mother loaded down with her
groceries.  And perhaps this enormous, soggy, overripe tomato   [he
produces one and places it next to the meringue]   is a tiny little girl --
who doesn't realize what a dangerous place her exciting new world is.  An
d let's assume that this cling-film parcel  [he produces a
plastic-wrapped pile of mush]  of mashed banana and jam is a deaf senior
citizen...Who's in a wheelchair...And is blind.  And this cricket bat with
a breeze block nailed to it   [he produces said item]  is your car.  Now
what happens if your car mounts the pavement?   [ANNOUNCER swiftly smashes
all three items to bits with the cricket bay]  Think once!  Think twice! 
Think DON'T DRIVE YOUR CAR ON THE PAVEMENT!

[the ghosts' bodies are still stumbling around in search of their heads. 
Each head is shouting "over here! over here!"  GHOST1's body picks up a
fishbowl.]

GHOST1:  No, no, that's a goldfish bowl, put it down.

[GHOST2's body picks up a grapefruit]

GHOST2 [still in the woman's lap]:  No, that's a grapefruit!  Now will you
please pick me up before this woman farts again!   [she farts again]

[From outside, Vyvan knocks on the woman's window.  Through the window we
can see that it's snowing and very cold.  The woman rises to answer Vyv's
knock, and GHOST2's head falls to the floor with a thunk. GHOST2 moans. The
woman opens the window and looks impatiently at Vyv.]

VYV:  [trying to be charming]  Hello!  I am your neighbor!

NEIGHBOR:  I know that.  You've been 'round here six times today already.

VYV:  Ha ha ha ha!  Yeah!  Nice day.

NEIGHBOR:  No it's not, it's snowing!

VYV:  Oh! Ha ha ha! Well, I mean, if you like snow and being really cold,
it's a nice day.

NEIGHBOR:  Well, I don't.  And you're letting cold air in.  Now what d'ya
want?!?

VYV:  Um...Could I borrow...a cup of sugar...please?

NEIGHBOR:  Another one?  How many is that you've had?  You'll rot your
teeth, you know.  [she leaves the window to get the cup of sugar]

VYV:  Yeah, I was a bit worried about that, so I had all mine kicked out
before I came 'round.  These are Neil's.

NEIGHBOR:  [returning with the cup, she menacingly grabs Vyv by the
collar]:  Do you think I could have some of my cups back, sometime?

VYV:  [thinking it over very carefully]  Umm...yeah.
 
NEIGHBOR:  [hands him the cup]  There you are.  [she shuts the window as
Vyv leaves]

[SCENE:  back in the guy's house.  Mike and Rick are by the fireplace. 
Rick is leaned over on the floor with his bum in the air; Mike, his legs
wrapped in bandages, is using Rick for a chair.]

MIKE:  You're not very comfortable, Rick.

RICK:  No, I'm bloody not!  Why can't you use Vyvyan as a chair?  He burned
them all!

[Vyv enters]

VYV:  Because I've been out gathering winter fuel, haven't I!  Look, Mike,
I've got another one.

MIKE:  Oh, nice one, Vyv.  

[Mike points to the fireplace.  Vyv empties the cup on the floor and throws
the cup into the fire.  It burns brightly for a moment, and Mike, Rick, and
Vyv crowd around for warmth.  Neil enters carrying a piece of paper and a
pen.]

NEIL:  Guys, guys, guys, I think I've solved our money problem.  I'm
writing to my bank manager.  See what you think.  [he reads from his
letter]  "Dear Bank Manager."

MIKE:  Yeah?

NEIL:  Well, that's it.  I'm quite pleased with it so far, though.

MIKE:  Oh, well, it's a strong opening, certainly.

VYV:  I don't like the "Dear".  Sounds a bit too much like, "will you go to
bed with me?"

NEIL:  Well spoken, Vyvyan.  What do you think instead?

VYV:  Uh, what about..."Darling"?

[the guys concur]

NEIL:  [writing]  "Darling Bank Manager..."

RICK:  No, no, no, no, no, not "Bank Manager", it's far too crawly
bum-lick.  Tell it like it is, put, "Fascist Bullyboy"!

NEIL:  "Darling Fascist Bullyboy..."

MIKE:  That's nice, yes, so far so good.  So what do you want to say?

NEIL:  Well, basically, I want to ask him if I can have, like, an extension
on my overdraft, but I know there must be a better way of putting it than
that.

MIKE:  Well, what about, "Give me some more money"?

VYV:  ..."You bastard!"

[the guys murmur their agreement]

NEIL:  Don't you think that's a bit strong?

MIKE:  Ah, Neil, people like that respect strength.
 
NEIL:  Yeah, you're right.  Uh, "Darling Fascist Bullyboy, Give me some
more money, you bastard..."  Uh...  "Love, Neil".

VYV:  Not "_Love_ Neil"!  That sounds far too much like, "Come and get it
like a bitch-funky sex machine!"

NEIL:  Yeah, you're right...Uh, what about, "Yours sincerely"?

RICK:  Oh, come off it, Neil.  If you're going to be that sycophantic, why
don't you go 'round there now and stick your tongue straight down the back
of his trousers?

NEIL:  Oh, look, I know, I know, why not, "Boom Shanka"?

MIKE:  That's hard to tell, Neil.  What does it mean?

NEIL:   It means, "May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the belly of
your woman."

RICK:  Ah-ha!  And what makes you think your bank manager's a man?

NEIL:  Uh...His beard.

MIKE:  He'll never understand "Boom Shanka", you'll have to write the whole
thing out.

NEIL:  Right, okay, here we go.  "Darling Fascist Bullyboy, Give me some
more money, you bastard.  May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the
belly of your woman, Neil."   [he looks pleased]

RICK:  Well, if that doesn't work, I don't know what will.  

MIKE:  The only trouble is we're running low on fuel.  [he snatches the
note from Neil, crumples itup, and tosses it to Vyv]  Vyv, chuck it on the
fire.  

[Vyv obeys.  The fire burns brightly for a moment and the guys crowd around
it as it dies back down.]

VYV:  Ga, where's my supper, Neil?

NEIL:  Coming.   [Neil exits to get supper]

RICK:  Yeah, I'm so hungry I could eat my own ear wax.  [to camera]  And we
all know how horrid that tastes, right, kids?  [Rick samples some earwax.]

VYV:  Mike, Mike, did we burn the sofa?

MIKE:  Right, 'fraid so, Vyv.

VYV:  I thought we did.  [he bonks Rick on the head with a fire iron.  Rick
falls supine and Mike and Vyv use him as a couch.]  Come on, Neil, we're
ready!

NEIL:  [entering with two plates, which he hands to Mike and Vyv]   Right,
now here it is, now eat it up quickly, okay?

MIKE:  What's this?

NEIL:  Uh...It's risotto, Mike.

[inserted here are ***a few frames of a downhill skier in a yellow ski
suit***]

VYV:  It's snow, isn't it, Neil.

NEIL:  No, it's probably just gone cold, Vyv.

VYV:  Neil, this is snow!

NEIL:  No, it's risotto, Vyv!

VYV:  Look, I know snow when I see it!  I should do, it's all I've had to
eat for the past three days.

NEIL:  Well, it's very nourishing, Vyvyan.

VYV:  Snow, snow, bloody snow!  I hate the bloody sight of it!

MIKE:  [eating greedily]  Don't you want yours, then?

VYV:  Ah-ha!  No, I didn't say that, did I, Mike?  [Vyv picks at his
supper]  Oh, God, this is disgusting!

[dramatic music, thunderclap, and brief CUT to groovy God in enormous
sunglasses with two angels standing by.]

GOD:  Don't blame me, I didn't cook it!  Alright?

VYV:  [standing up in disgust]  Why can't we have some decent food?

NEIL:  Because we haven't got any bread.

VYV:  Well why don't we get some bread?

NEIL:  Because, Vyvyan, we haven't got any _bread_!

MIKE:  Alright, this has gone far enough.  House meeting!

[Neil and Vyv wave their arms in the air, shouting "House meeting!  House
meeting!"]

MIKE:  Vyv, wake up Rick.

VYV:  Rick, wake up!  [Vyv smashes a plate over Rick's head, and Rick
rouses gradually.  Meanwhile, the one of the GHOST bodies dances into the
house with a boom box on its shoulder.  The other GHOST body trails along
with a head in each arm. The heads ar e arguing heatedly.]

VYV:  [to Rick]  Wake up, for heaven's sake, we're trying to have a house
meeting...

GHOST1:  Oi, now just listen, please?  Thank you.  This is my body, that
one there is yours.

GHOST2:  Rubbish!  You're only saying that because this one has a nicer
bottom.

GHOST1:  I know it's mine, 'cause that bum's got no rhythm!

GHOST2:  I don't believe this!  You are cynically exploiting the fact that
we've been beheaded so you can grab yourself a nicer bott!

GHOST1:  Oh, for sooth's sake...Look, this is my bottom.

GHOST2:  Forget it, forget it!  Look, we'll split the bottom.

GHOST1:  What, right down the middle?

GHOST2:  Look, there's no need to get aggressive!

[the focus of the scene shifts back to the guys]

RICK:  [screaming at Neil]  I AM NOT GETTING AGGRESSIVE!  

NEIL:  You are, Rick.  I can sense it.

RICK:  I AM NOT!  I just don't see why it has to be me who gets a job.

NEIL:  Well it can't be me, I lead an alternative lifestyle.

RICK:  Alternative lifestyle!  HA!  You're as alternative as Channel Four!

MIKE:  [shooting a gun into the air]  Alright, now why don't we look for
a job in the paper?  [a newspaper comes shoting through the mail slot] 
Vyvyan...  [Mike points to the paper and Vyv fetches it.]  I'm sorry about
that bang, I just fired a gun.

VYV:  [returning with the paper]  Here we are, situations vacant, pages
seven to thirteen.  

[Vyv turns through several blank pages]

NEIL:  There doesn't seem to be much choice, is there?

[Vyv  turns to a lone ad for the Army.  It says: "JOIN THE PROFESHIONELS,
IT'S GREAT! YOU CAN HAVE A GUN IF YOU WANT! AND THERE'S MONEY IN IT (NOT
THE GUN). H.M. ARMED FORCES"]

RICK:  Alright, what's this..."Join the profeshionels..."

NEIL:  "...it's great, you can have a gun if you want."

RICK:  Uh, well, now, yes, well, now, there's me out, you see.  Perforated
eardrum.

MIKE:  Really?  Yeah, me too.

RICK:  Uh...Pardon?

MIKE:  Flat feet.

VYV:  [folding up the paper and putting it on the fire]  Well!  That just
leaves Neil then.  

NEIL:  What?  No, no way!  Why can't it be Vyvyan for a change?

VYV:  [nervously]  Uh...well, Neil, since you come to mention it, there is
something I've been meaning to tell all of you for some time...Uh...I went
to see the doctor today...And, well...I think I'm pregnant.

MIKE, RICK, and NEIL:  What?

VYV:  I'm going to have a baby!

NEIL:  That's impossible!

VYV:  Yeah, that's what _she_ said!  You just can't trust women, can you?

RICK:   But...How did it happen?

MIKE:  Oh, come on, Rick, how old are you?

RICK:  Well, that's rather a personal question, isn't it!

MIKE:  Didn't your mother ever tell you about the birds and the bees?

NEIL:  Mine did, but I didn't believe her.  Well, I mean, what if the bird
got stung, like halfway through?  Well, I mean there's a big size
difference.  Ostriches are really big, right...

VYV:  [clutching his stomach]  OH! OH NO!  The contractions are starting!!

[the guys start to panic]

NEIL:  Quick, quick, Mike, Mike!  Get some boiling towels...Uh, Rick, clean
water...Vyvyan, sit down, take the weight off your feet!

RICK:  What do you mean, sit down?  There aren't any chairs!

MIKE:  And all the towels have been burnt!

NEIL:  Oh no!  We've got to buy some furniture for Vyvyan quickly!

RICK:  We can't!  We haven't got any money!  Vyvyan's baby will be a
pauper!  Oliver Twist, Geoffrey Dickens!  Back to Victorian values!  
[furiously pointing at camera]  I HOPE YOU'RE SATISFIED, THATCHER!!

VYV:  [doubled over]  Hurry!  Get some money very quickly!

MIKE:  There's only one thing for it...Neil!

NEIL:  You're right...I've got to join the Army before Vyvyan has a baby!

[a close up on Vyvyan is edged out of the frame by a shot of a MANIAC
laughing demonically.  The Maniac speaks to the camera.]
 
MANIAC:  I've just been 'round my neighbor's house to borrow a drill...But
he wasn't in!  Ha ha ha ha!  So I broke in and ate his fishtank.  And I
wasn't even hungry.  Ha ha ha ha!  You won't catch me with me trousers!

[the frame is edged back out with a close up of Rick.  SCENE: He is in the
upstairs hall with Mike, nervously smoking six cigarettes simultaneously. 
Mike bites off several fingernails and spits them out.  Moans and cries are
heard from the adjoining bedroom.]

RICK:  What time is it?

MIKE:  Rick, that's the hundredth time you've asked me.

RICK:  Yes, I know, but every time I ask you, you don't tell me!

MIKE:  Well, it's time you got a watch!

RICK:  I've got a watch!  I'm just not very good at telling the time yet.

MIKE:  [showing Rick his watch]  Well, the small hand's on the four...

[they are interrupted by Vyv's scream.  They rush into the bedroom.  Neil
is sitting on the bed with an enormous mirror in hiding his head and
a sheet draped around him.  Vyv is cutting Neil's hair with a pair of
gardening shears.]

MIKE:  How's it going?

NEIL:  [moaning]  Ohhhh...I hate it!  I hate it!

VYV:  Well, of course you hate it, Neil, it's not finished yet!

NEIL:  It's finished as far as I'm concerned.  [Neil lowers the mirror. The
hair on the left side of his head has been cut off just above the ear. 
Neil stands up.]  At least this way I'm still half fashionable.

MIKE:  [encouraging]  What are you talking about?  You're a hundred and
fifty percent fashion!  The Army can't say "no" this this suit!

[Mike removes the sheet.  Neil is wearing one of Mike's suits (complete
with watch fob], which is ridiculously short and tight.)

NEIL:  Thanks for letting me hire it, Mike.

VYV:  I still tend to think that the whole outfit is somethat on the snug
side.  [Vyv pulls at Neil's jacket while Rick plays with the watch fob.]

MIKE:  Oh, come on, come on, the recruiting office closes in one hour!

VYV and RICK:  Yeah, come on, come on...  [they lead a reluctant Neil out
of the room]

SPECIAL PATROL GROUP [Vyv's hamster] [yelling after them]:  Don't tell them
you're a pacifist!

[SCENE:  Outside, the guys are walking through the snow to the recruiting
office.  Ken Bishop's Nice Twelve (a quasi-jazz band led by Jools Holland)
are playing Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues", trading off each
line.]

[SCENE:  The guys push Neil into the Army Careers Information Office.  A
moment later, Neil is thrown back out.]

NEIL:  I only said I was a pacifist!

MIKE:  So we're back to square one.

VYV:  Ga!  Look at this weather.  Anyone would think it was winter

RICK:  Yeah, a chap could lose his bearings in weather like this.  [Neil
and Vyv check their crotches.  Rick points across the street.]  Do you see
what I see?

[It's a police station with a recruitment poster that says "We Take
Absolutlely Anyone"]

VYV:  Oh, brilliant!  Neil, you're joining the police.  [the guys push Neil
into the station]

[SCENE: an office in the police station.  A POLICE CHIEF is dressed as
Mussolini and is making vaguely Fascist poses.  There is a skewed portrait
of Mussolini on the wall.]

POLICE CHIEF:  Entre, entre!

NEIL:  [skulking in]  Hello...I've come to join the police force.  But I
shouldn't think you'd take me...  [Neil starts to skulk back out]

POLICE CHIEF:  Hey, hey...  [he strikes a pose and points to his profile]

NEIL:  Hey, aren't you Benito Mussolini, conquerer of Abyssinia and former
dictator of Italy?

POLICE CHIEF:  [in an exaggerated Italian accent]  No.  So, eh, what can I
do for you? 

NEIL:  Oh, yeah, well, it's about joining the police force, but I don't
think I'm, you know, correctly job motivated...

POLICE CHIEF:  Oh, for sure you are, for sure.  Eh, there's only one thing
you need to know to be a policeman, you know?  Really.  One thing you have
to do, you have to be able to go "CCCCCHHHHHHH"  [he makes a radio-static
sound].

NEIL:  Aaccckkk....  [Neil is unable to make the sound]

POLICE CHIEF:  No, no, "CCCCHHHHHH", for when you are talking into your
radio, you know?  "CCCCCHHHH" -- try it!  "CCCCHHHHHHH"  You go, "Charlie,
Tango, Teakettle, Barbeque, CCCCCHHHHHH"!

NEIL:  CCCCHHHHHHH!

POLICE CHIEF:  That's right, that's right!  Now, you practice going,
"CCCCHHHHHH". And if you don't get it right, I kick your head in.

NEIL:  Fascist!

POLICE CHIEF:  Si!  Okay, now, here is the uniform   [he hands Neil the
uniform]  take that with you, and as you go out, watch out for the Special
Branch.

[Neil walks out of the station and hits his head on a tree branch]

NEIL:  I don't see what's so special about that.

TREE BRANCH:  I've got a degree in Computer Science, that's what.

NEIL:  Oh, yeah, that's quite special.

[back to the Police Chief in his office]

POLICE CHIEF:  [he's dropped the Italian accent and is now talking like
Alexei Sayle]  It's been a terrible blow to my life looking like Mussolini,
you know.  Especially when I was a kid, you know, I was about seven, right,
and I was down the Youth Club, you know, dancing away, right, like in the
'sixties, doing the Twist,   [he starts doing the Twist]  you know.  And,
em,  there was this girl, right, and she comes up to me, and she goes,
"'Ere!  Are you Mussolini?"  I said, "Emmm...Yeah."  She says, "I though
you was dead."  I says,  "No, it was just me day off, you know."  So she
pulled me over the dance floor and butted me in the face!  I said, "What's
that for?"  She said, "That's for the invasion of Crete!"

[to the sound of applause, the Police Chief walks through the office door. 
Cut to: SCENE of a stage with a glittery curtain.  An M.C. in a purple
lame tuxedo is at the microphone.]

MC:  ...And now, Italy's contestent in the Eurovision Song Contest, here
is Il Douce with this year's entry...Take it away, Douce!  [Emcee yields
the stage to the Police Chief.  He enjoys the cheers and then the music
starts.]

POLICE CHIEF:  [sings the following song]

Whenever people bother me
When they shout and raise their voices
I don't let it get me down
I just make some stupid noises!

I go...HUH HUH HUH HUH NI NI NI NI  YA YA YA [etc.]

When the boss is giving you the sack
'Cause you've lost all his invoices
Don't drink a bottle of sulphuric acid
Relax, make stupid noises!

Just go... [more stupid noises as the Police Chief dances around]

[the scene shifts to a binocular view of a television playing Il Douce's
performance.  Vyv lowers the binoculars and we're back in the guys's house.
Vyv's belly is visibly enlarged and sticking out of his shirt.]

VYV:  You know, I have the most terrible craving for a piece of fried
lavatory paper.

[Holding his lower back, Vyvyan hobbles over to the bed, which is now in
the middle of the kitchen, and lies down]

RICK:  [warming his hands at the open refrigerator]  Well, that's just too
bad, Vyvyan, because you finished the last roll last week.  [he tentatively
approaches Vyvyan]  Is there anything I can do for you, Vyvyan?

VYV:  Uh, yeah!  Kill yourself.

RICK:  [fakes laughter]  Ha ha ha!  No, I was wondering if you'd thought of
a name...   [Rick points to himself]  for your baby yet.

VYV:  Shut up or piss off!

RICK:  [angered at his rejection]  Oh, that's very nice...

VYV:  No, no, those are two names I'm considering.  I mean, they'll be very
handy in later life, you know, for getting into fights and things.  [Vyv's
belly starts quivering]  Oh!  Oh!  He's kicking!

RICK:  [he is fascinated in a disgusting sort of way]  Oh,
Vyvyan...Eeewww...Would it be alright...I mean, could I have a bit of a
listen?

VYV:  Sure, help yourself!  [Rick puts his ear to Vyv's belly]  You can
hear it kicking! 

RICK:  I can't hear a thing...   [Rick gets boffed in the head by a
convulsion]

VYV:  That's my boy!

[Rick has landed bum-first in the fire.  Mike crowds around for the warmth
the added fuel offers.]

RICK:  Help!  I'm on fire!  I'm on fire!

MIKE:  That's very public spirited of you, Rick!  Thanks!

[SCENE:  Neil is outdoors on his police beat, wearing a full policeman's
uniform. He seems oblivious to the message coming in on his radio.]
 
RADIO VOICE:  Hello, PC-13?   [CCCCHHHH]   Hello, PC-13?  Hello, PC-13?

NEIL:   [to camera]   Oh, wow, that's me, right?  Uh...   [Neil speaks into
the radio]  CCCCCHHHH...  Uh, hello, uh, here I am.

RADIO VOICE:  What is your location, PC-13?

NEIL:  CCCCHHHHH...Well, I'm outside, right, but like, don't worry, 'cause,
like, everything's really mellow, okay?

RADIO VOICE:  68 Bryant Street...Get 'round there, smash the place up, and
arrest everybody. 

NEIL:  Right, right...CCCCHHHH....Okay...Here goes...   [Neil goes off,
truncheon in hand]

[SCENE: front walk of ramshackle house.  Loud music is playing.  There is a
party going on inside.  Somebody throws a chair out the window, almost
hitting Neil.  Neil approaches the front door and bangs on it with his
truncheon.]

NEIL:  Open up, it's the pigs!   [no answer; he rings the doorbell]   Open
up, it's the pigs!   [he knocks again]

[Warlock, an aging hippie, opens the door slightly, slides out, and leans
against it in a classic talking-to-the-cop pose.  He seems really out of it.]

WARLOCK:  Uh...What's the matter, man, I was fast asleep on my bed.  
[recognizes Neil]   Oh, hello, Neil, mate!

NEIL:  Hi, Warlock.  Um, look, uh...This is a bust.

WARLOCK:  Oh, I know it's one, man...   [shouts into the house]   Hey! 
Don't flush the toilet!  It's cool!  It's only Neil!   [admires Neil's
uniform]   Hey, man, where's you get that gear from?

NEIL:  Oh...Uh, down the police station.

WARLOCK:  Woah, you had me fooled.  I've just eaten half my stash. 
[Warlock looks nauseus]

NEIL:  Look, Warlock, this is very heavy.

WARLOCK:  No, it's not, man, we've got plenty more inside.  Come in, take
the tit off your head.   [Warlock opens the door and Neil enters the house.
Warlock leads Neil into the party as Neil gets ready with his truncheon.] 
Come on in, man.

[SCENE: Warlock's house.  The air is thick with smoke and several hippies
are partying]

WARLOCK:  Hey, Neil's come as Mister Plod!

NEIL:  Okay, listen, everybody, go home!  It isn't safe!  Take your
stashes!  It's not safe here!

[Stonehenge, a female hippie, stumbles up to Neil]

STONEHENGE:   There you go, Neil, it's safe here, this house is built on a
ley-line.

NEIL:  Says who?

STONEHENGE:  [pointing]   The wall...   [she hugs the wall]

NEIL:  No, listen, Stonehenge...No, listen, everybody, right, listen...  
[frustrated, Neil silences the loud music by smashing the record player
with his truncheon.  Everyone is quiet.]   Right, listen...   [he realizes
what he's done]   Oh, no...Led Zeppelin!  Anyway, listen everybody, right,
like I don't want to bring the whole evening down or anything, okay, but
basically you're all under arrest.

[Stonehende collapses aginst her wall.  Warlock discovers Neil's radio and
takes it out of his belt.]

WARLOCK:  Hey, everybody, look what I've just found.   [speaks into radio] 
 Hello, Earth, can you read me?  This is Starship Captain Warlock, on the
planet Freakout, broadcasting to you on the inter-electric galactic
airwaves.   [Neil is trying in vain to get the radio back]   Can you read
me, Earth?

RADIO VOICE:  CCCHHHHH.  We receive you.  Do you require assistance?

WARLOCK:  [amazed]   Far out, man!  Uh, yeah, we require ten assistants...
Preferably Swedish!

[sound of screeching tyres as a squad of policemen barge into the room and
begin beating everyone with their truncheons.  Neil is swinging his own
truncheon excitedly.  He bops a male hippie over the head.]

NEIL:  [enthusiastically]   Yeah!

WARLOCK:  [eating the rest of his stash in a panic]   Oh, no...I knew I
should have stuck to rum punch.

[SCENE:  back at the guys' house.  Rick's red boots are on the fire. 
Vyvyan, his stomach enormous, is lying on the bedframe.  Mike is perched by
his side.  Rick squats on the floor.  They are playing cards.]

VYV:  Four kings, two queens, and an ace.

MIKE:  Royal flush: five aces and a jack.   [places the cards on Vyv's
belly]   Right.

RICK:  Do we have to keep playing this game?  Why can't we play something
like Fish, that I'm good at?

VYV:  Come on, Rick, what have you got?

RICK:  One three.  [he places it gingerly on Vyv's stomach.  Mike and Vyv
shake their heads.]  Damn!

MIKE:  Trousers.

RICK:   [removing his trousers]   It does seem rather strange to me that
people with an "R" in their name are only allowed one card.  What kind of
game is that?

MIKE:  Trousers!   [Rick tosses his trousers to Mike]

VYV:  Right, another round?

RICK:  All right...   [Rick sits on the floor and abruptly jumps back up]  
Oh, God, Neil had bloody well better hurry up with the money!  We've got no
food, we've got no heat, we've got no lights, and now I've got a whacking
splinter up my bottom!

MIKE:  Forget about Neil, Rickie, I've got everything sorted.

RICK:  Oh!  Oh!  So you've got everything sorted, have you, Mike?  Well
what have you sorted?  I suppose you've arranged for a bloody great
articulated lorry loaded with food, and money, and everything we need, to
come smashing through the drawing room window, have you?!? 

[of course, a lorry comes smashing through the drawing room window.]

RICK:  Bloody hell!

VYV:  Brilliant!

[The lorry driver jumps out of the cab and picks his way across the rubble] 

DRIVER:  Sorry, sorry...   

MIKE:  Well, guys, I just don't know what to say.

[SCENE:  The Driver flees the house, running past two barking dogs.]

DOG1:  It's a funny game, innit, eh?

DOG2:  What is?

DOG1:  Chess.

DOG2:  Only if you have a nosebleed.

[Neil approaches the house and the dogs chase him and bark at him.]

[SCENE:  The guys' house, now sumptuously decorated with antique furniture,
priceless paintings, and silk screens.  Mike, wearing a satin smoking
jacket, sits on a chaise longue counting a wad of bills.  Vyv reclines on a
luxurious bed, defacing "Whistler's Mother" with a marker.  Rick is swathed
in fur and is shoving a bunch of grapes into his mouth.  Neil stumbles in.]

NEIL:  Oh, no...Wrong house.   [confused, he goes outside and looks at
the house number]

[back inside, a delivery man has brought in an armchair]

RICK:   [aristocratically]   Yes, yes, that's fine, thank you very much,
little old man, have a large sum of money.  [he hands a stack of bills to
the delivery man, who nods his thanks and exits.]  Go away quickly.

MIKE:  Well, all this was a piece of luck.

RICK:  Yes, a frightfully good piece of fortune.  [he takes a box of cigars
off the mantlepiece]   Cigar, Mike?

MIKE:  I don't mind if I do.

VYV:   [pouring ketchup into a silver bowl full of caviar]   This caviar's
really great, I suppose.

MIKE:   [posing for the camera with cigar]   James Bond smokes these, you
know.

NEIL:   [lurking by the front door]   Oh, no, in their desparation the guys
must have turned into experienced furniture thieves.  Right!  

[Neil barges into the drawing room, club raised, making siren noises.]

NEIL:  WoooWoooWooo!  Okay, freeze!  This is a raid!

VYV:  Hi, Neil!  Want some champagne?   [Vyv shakes the open bottle,
spraying Rick, who is sitting next to him].

NEIL:  Button your lip, chummy!   [Vyv gives him the sod-you sign.  Neil
handcuffs Vyv and Rick together]   You're on my manor and we've tumbled
your game!

MIKE:  Come on, Neil, pull up a chaise longue!

NEIL:  There's gonna be no chaise longues where you're going, Mikey boy!  
[pulls at Vyv's wrist]   Now I hope you'll all come quietly.

VYV:  No, no, we're all going to come very noisily!

RICK:  Yes!   [screaming]   Eeeehhhh, eeeehhhh!

[Neil hits Vyv over the head with his truncheon]

VYV:  Ow!  Quick, get the stirrups!  I'm going to have my baby now!

RICK:  Look what your rough-arm tactics have done, fascist!

NEIL:  Quick!  Dial 999!  Get an ambulance!

MIKE:  I can't watch this.   [Mike leaves the room]

NEIL:  Oh, no...

[Instead of giving birth, Vyv lets out a seemingly interminable fart.  Neil
and Rick almost pass out from the smell]

RICK:  Quickly, the keys to the handcuffs, I'm suffocating!

NEIL:  Uh, uh...  [he searches his pockets for the keys]

[suddenly,  Vyv stops, and Rick and Neil collapse.]

MIKE:   [rushing back in]   Is it over, then?  Congratulations, Vyv.   [he
puts a cigar in Vyv's mouth]   Well, what have we got, a boy or a girl?  
[Mike is about to light the cigar]

RICK:  No, Mike, NO!!!!

[EXTERIOR SHOT of the house exploding.  The credits roll and the guys
escape the house, their faces covered with soot, and stare despondantly at the burning remains of their home -- except for Vyv, who is of course fascinated.] 

THE END