633 lines
28 KiB
C
633 lines
28 KiB
C
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BOTTOM
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======
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by Adrian Edmondson and Rik Mayall
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Series 1, Episode 3
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Contest
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=======
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Richie Rik Mayall
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Eddie Adrian Edmondson
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Scene 1. The Flat.
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------------------
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[It's raining. Richie is alone in the flat, looking out of the window. He
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turns on the gas oven and puts his head in -- but takes it out seconds
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later, grinning. He mumbles as he writes a note.]
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Richie: Right! Eddie comes in, takes off his coat -- body odour --
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takes off his hat, sits down to eat his tea. Sees the note.
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Sees me. Shock! Rescue, rescue, rescue, rescue. Remorse,
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remorse, guilt, guilt, guilt, whirlwind of self-loathing...
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and Eddie buys me a drink. Fiendish!
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[He hears Eddie coming in, puts the note on the table, turns the gas on,
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takes a deep breath and puts his head in the oven again. Eddie comes in,
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takes off his coat, throws his hat to the floor and sits down,
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unfortunately putting his bag on top of Richie's note. He starts to read
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the paper. After a while Richie starts to choke and splutter. Eddie looks
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up, notices Richie, and goes back to his paper. Richie gets up and leans
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out of the window, gasping for air.]
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Richie: Oh hello Eddie!
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Eddie: Oh, bugger off!
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Richie: Hard day at the office?
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Eddie: Yes. I spent an hour with Mrs. Longbottom. I spent another
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hour and a half with that bitch Mrs. Pugh. And then I spent
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six hours looking for the supervisor's office, and when I got
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there he cut off my dole.
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Richie: What?
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Eddie: He said I'd got too many savings.
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Richie: Well how much have you got?
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Eddie: Eleven pounds eighty. He said that ought to keep me going for
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at least two months.
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Richie: You really are pathetic, aren't you? I mean, you haven't held
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down a steady job since 1978. You only held that down for ten
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minutes. "Bunny Girl"! I told you to keep your trousers on.
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God, it was like watching a bullfight! So, we've only got
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eleven pounds eighty to last us for the next two months.
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Eddie: No, we've got 30p and a second-hand copy of "Parade".
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Richie: What?
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Eddie: It's an investment. Look, I got it for one pound fifty and
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originally it only cost a shilling. The value of these things
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is just sky-rocketing!
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Richie: That's pre-decimalization! They'll all have their pants on.
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[pause] All right, I'd better look after this.
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Eddie: Ah-ah, no you don't. This is my investment, I'm gonna show
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this to my grandchildren.
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Richie: I beg your pardon?
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Eddie: Look, this is a genuine first edition of "Parade"! It's still
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in its sealed cellophane wrapper!
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Richie: It doesn't matter how you art it up Eddie, it's still a jazz
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mag.
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Eddie: That's what they said to Michaelangelo about the Sistine
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Chapel.
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Richie: No it's not! The Sistine Chapel is art. If they said anything
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they would have said "Blimey! Nice painting Mr. Angelo. Now
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that's what I call art, and it's not porny at all."
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Eddie: It bloody well is dirty you know! There's those three birds on
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the top of the third pillar from the left with the bit of blue
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ribbon. Gaww! Some of the things they're doing would make your
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nose bleed! There's a picture of it in the history of art
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book, where is it?
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Richie: Oh, well, let's not bother with all that now, Eddie, let's
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just have dinner.
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Eddie: Here it is, in your study area. That's odd -- it's fallen open
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at the exact page. How extraordinary, it's done it again!
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[He holds the book in front of Richie and lets it open. It flops open at
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the same page. Eddie looks at Richie questioningly.]
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Richie: Yes? Well? I -- I've been studying that picture.
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Eddie: Been, er, studying it quite a lot have you? While you're alone
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in the house?
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Richie: How dare you accuse me of masturbating!
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Eddie: Who said anything about masturbating?
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Richie: You did, just then!
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Eddie: I did not, I just said it's odd how it always falls open at
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that precise page!
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Richie: Yes, you did, and the reason you said that is because you know
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that's the picture I always look at when I'm having a w--
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[Richie suddenly realizes what he is about to say. There is a long pause,
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during which he looks very uncomfortable.]
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Richie: Eleven pounds eighty was all we had to survive on for the next
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two months! What am I going to feed the children on now?
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Eddie: We haven't got any children.
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Richie: Yes, I know, I know, I was talking metaphorically.
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Eddie: You're talking bollocks!
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Richie: Don't you go using language like that in my house, my lad.
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Eddie: What? English?
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Richie: The language of the guttersnipe. The language of the, of the,
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of the toilet. The language of the, of the little green things
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you give a big yank to and get a big yellow dangly thing...
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Eddie: Oh, shut up. Every day, yakkety bloody yak, on and on and on!
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Day in, day out -- slime in this ear, slime in that ear. Just
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stop talking!
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[Eddie goes to the table where he is building a model aeroplane. He picks
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it up by the tail, accidentally breaking it with a crunch. Richie starts
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laying the table.]
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Richie: You may hate me, Eddie...
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Eddie: Yes, I do.
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Richie: ...but you can't live without me, can you? I mean, off you go,
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gallivanting around the countryside, squandering all our money
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on rhythm magazines, and then you come swanning in here and
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expect to have your dinner on the table. And I don't know why
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I do it, but I've managed to throw together a slap-up dinner
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for two for no money at all. All the ingredients in tonight's
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main meal have either been grown, found or foraged.
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Eddie: Oh dear.
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Richie: So hey! Hey. Hey. Eddie... I forgive you. Come and have your
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din-dins.
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[Richie spits on one of the plates and attempts to guide Eddie to sit down
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in front of it. Eddie sits on the other chair.]
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Eddie: What's wrong with these beans?
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Richie: What d'you mean wrong? They're fresh. I grew those in the
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window-box.
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Eddie: They've got black bits all over them.
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Richie: Well it's just a couple of greenfly, for heaven's sake! Well
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they're dead now, they've been under the grill for ages.
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Really. I watched them pop.
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Eddie: What's this?
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Richie: It's a turnip! What, are you missing the label?
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Eddie: Well why is it black?
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Richie: It's been grilled!
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[Richie eats one of the grilled turnips, which crunches loudly between his
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teeth.]
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Richie: Mmgh -- hoh, mm mm mm, they have a real texture, don't they?
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Fresh vegetables. Totally different experience.
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Eddie: Grilled lettuce?
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Richie: No, that's bacon.
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Eddie: But it's green!
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Richie: Yeah?
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Eddie: I can't eat this, it's disgusting!
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Richie: Well what are you going to do then, Egon Ronay? Blow your
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thirty pence on a slap-up grill down the Savoy?
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Eddie: Pass the tea.
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Richie: Oh, h-hh-hhh-h-hah!
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[Richie pours two cups of tea. Eddie looks at his suspiciously.]
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Eddie: What's this?
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Richie: Elm tea. The gypsies swear by it.
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Eddie: I bet they do, I bet they say "What the bloody hell's this?"
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Richie: God, it's like living with Lena Zavaroni!
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[He takes a sip of tea, but has to spit it back out again.]
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Richie: Ho, hoh hoh, you can taste the bark can't you? Perhaps a
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little less wood next time.
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Eddie: Is there any pudding?
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Richie: Ooh yes, plenty of pud.
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Eddie: Right, I'm off. At least there's something fantastic on telly
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tonight. I've been looking forward to this for ages!
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[Eddie turns the television on and settles down in front of it. Richie
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switches it off.]
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Richie: You can't watch that, actually.
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Eddie: And why not?
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Richie: 'Cause there's something I want to watch on the other side.
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It's my favourite programme.
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[Richie switches the television back on.]
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Eddie: This is your favourite programme?
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Richie: Yeah.
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Eddie: What is it?
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Richie: [trying to guess] A documentary. And there's a car. Great.
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Yeah look, it's a documentary about fat old women.
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Eddie: What, are you on it then?
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Richie: Ho ho ha ha, oh yeah, hysterical Eddie, heartstoppingly funny.
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You really should be on Channel Four.
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Eddie: Nah, ITV, that's the channel for me. Nothing to worry about
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and plenty of sauce.
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Richie: Really. And what particularly edifying programme have the
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light channel prepared for us this evening, that I'm not going
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to let us watch?
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Eddie: It's "Miss World", actually.
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Richie: How disgusting. [aside, mimed] Shit!
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Presenter: ...the precision of the measurement of aggregate change...
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Richie: Ah ha ha ha, nice statistic.
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Presenter: ...the cross-sectional data, and the higher the correlation...
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[Eddie gets up, switches over to "Miss World", and sits back down again.]
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Miss Spain: My hobbies are flower arranging and meeting people...
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Eddie: Gawwww! Hwor, hwoorrrgh...
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[Richie gets up and switches back to the documentary.]
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Presenter: Cross-sectional study can monitor change at an individual
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level by asking...
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[Eddie switches back. They keep changing the channel, faster and faster,
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until the television gets knocked over.]
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Richie: Right, that's it, get out of my house.
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Eddie: I beg your pardon?
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Richie: You heard.
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Eddie: No I didn't.
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Richie: Well I'm not saying something like that twice, young man!
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Eddie: Well I can't do anything about it then, can I?
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Richie: Look, this is my house so get out!
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Eddie: You can't throw me out just like that, I've got rights! I pay
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rent!
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Richie: Ah-h-h, you're supposed to pay rent, I've never actually seen
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any money.
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Eddie: Well I've been busy, haven't I? How much is it?
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Richie: Eleven thousand, six hundred and forty-five pounds. And sixty-
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six new pence.
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Eddie: I've got 30p.
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Richie: Better get out of my house then, hadn't you?
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Eddie: Well it's not your house, it's your aunt's house.
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Richie: For the purpose of this conversation, I am my aunt.
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Eddie: Hello Mabel!
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Richie: What, is she here? Shit, hide the fags! Hello Auntie -- right,
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that's it! Get out!
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Eddie: Right, I shall go, Mabel, but I think I ought warn you that if
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your nephew reads any more art magazines he very well may go
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blind. Good day to you Madam!
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[Eddie leaves. Richie slams the door behind him, then opens it again to
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shout after him.]
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Richie: And good riddance! To bad rubbish! [to himself] That was
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clever.
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[He furtively puts "Miss World" on and stands watching it.]
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Announcer: So let's meet our ten finalists in the swimwear section. First
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will you greet number sixteen, Miss Dominican Republic.
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[cheering] Maria is only nineteen years old...
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[Richie's hands start to stray to his trousers. After an inner struggle he
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undoes his belt and slides down his trousers. Meanwhile Eddie is outside on
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the landing, practicing an apology.]
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Eddie: "I'm sorry Richie, you're the tops, let's have another cup of
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that delicious elm tea." Hmm. Oh well, it's either that or
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Nasty Linda's. Hoohgh.
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[Eddie walks into the flat behind Richie, who is sitting on the sofa with
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his trousers around his ankles. Unaware of Eddie watching, Richie performs
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some limbering-up exercises on his hands -- rubbing them together,
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stretching out his fingers, blowing on them. Eddie coughs softly behind
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Richie.]
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Richie: Shh!
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[Richie goes back to his exercises but suddenly realises Eddie is there. He
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frantically pulls his trousers back up and switches the television back to
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the documentary.]
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Eddie: Cor, dear, this isn't very sexy, is it? God, look at the
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knockers on that one, they're minute!
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Richie: That's because that's Michael Burke.
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Eddie: Well, he's not very saucy is he? I mean, I'm all for
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educational programmes, I just think they could, you know, sex
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them up a bit. What do you think Richie?
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Richie: Hahahahaha, this is all so silly! I mean, just because the
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television set got jammed onto the light channel during the
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fall and at precisely the same moment my trousers accidentally
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fell down due to heavy housework...
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Eddie: Richie.
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Richie: ...there's no reason...
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Eddie: Richie, don't even try it. Just put the TV back onto "Miss
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World" and we'll say no more about it.
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Richie: We'll say no more about it?
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Eddie: No.
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[Richie switches back to "Miss World".]
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Richie: Thanks, Eddie.
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Eddie: Now go away.
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Richie: Right. I'll just go away. Over here. In my going-away place.
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And here I am -- in my going-away place. On my own. Well, it's
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a bit of a loose end for me really... Hahha hh-hh-h. So I'll
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just tidy away the dinner things. Yes, just tidy away the
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dinner. That I cooked. And nobody ate. And I'll just throw
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away the vegetables. [scrapes the plates out of the window]
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Onto that man. All the vegetables I spent all day grilling.
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Off they go. And I'm sure that God's looking down thinking
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"What a good ecological--"
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Eddie: Richard, I'm warning you. If you don't shut up and let me
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watch "Miss World" I'm going to stuff your head up your bum.
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And you'll spend the rest of your life wandering around on all
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fours looking for the light switch.
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Richie: Okay.
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[Richie picks up the two teacups and carries them across the kitchen,
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trembling and clattering. He sits down at the organ, accidentally setting
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it off. He plays it madly before managing to turn it off.]
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Richie: Cor, they don't write tunes like that any more!
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[He sits down next to Eddie.]
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Richie: It's just -- I'm just a very lonely person Eddie.
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Eddie: I'm not bloody surprised!
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Richie: Oh great -- "Miss World". Cor, cracking birds aren't they? Do
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you know how many birds there are in the world?
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Eddie: Yeah, about three billion.
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Richie: Do you know how many of these I've slept with?
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Eddie: Yep.
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Richie: None.
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Eddie: Yeah, I know.
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Richie: I mean, statistically that's really quite phenomenal, isn't
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it?
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Eddie: Not for an ugly fat bastard like you.
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Richie: I wonder what sort of great bird'd suit me?
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Eddie: Blind one. Well, blind deaf masochist really.
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Richie: Yeah, I suppose you're right. [walking around] I mean, me,
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you know, I was born at the wrong time, you see. I'm more,
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sort of, Elizabethan. You know, thirteenth century,
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Shakespeare, the French Revolution, and all that. Ha-hooohaoo,
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I'm just too intelligent, that's my problem. [leans on the
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kettle] Ooh, shit! I didn't expect the kettle to be hot! Aw,
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God, life's horrible! Why haven't I got a girlfriend? I'd look
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great with a girlfriend.
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[He mimes putting his arm around someone.]
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Richie: Never had a girlfriend. Perhaps I'm the new Messiah. Yeah!
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Maybe that's it. "Get up and walk." Fifty quid. "Throw away
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your sticks." Bonk! April Fool! Ha ha, hahahahaha! Oh God I'm
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bored... There's the phone. We haven't had a phone
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conversation all night Eddie. I'm great on the phone.
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[He picks up the phone.]
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Richie: "Hello." Great. "Hi!" Greater.
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[He puts the phone down and then picks it up urgently.]
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Richie: "Lieutenant Sex Machine, Homicide! Yeah, what time? Damn! I'm
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gonna nail this sick mother even if the D.A. takes my badge!
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Chief, just give me twenty-four hours!"
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[Richie slams the phone down.]
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Richie: Oh God, I wish I knew what all that meant! Dring! "Hhhahh..."
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Dring dring! "H-hh-hhhhh..." Dring! "Hhh-hh-h hello? Look, who
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is this? Just don't hurt the kid, okay?"
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[He turns to Eddie.]
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Richie: "Eddie, Eddie, it's him again, he's got Jamie! Switch on the
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tape recorder!"
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[Eddie looks back, bewildered.]
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Richie: "How much do you want? Forty million billion squillion zillion
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dollars? What, are you crazy? Oh, you are, sorry, excuse me.
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Well where am I going to get forty million billion squillion
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zillion dollars? We've only got thirty pence, Eddie blew the
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rest on a second-hand copy of 'Parade'!"
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[Richie slams the phone down and suddenly realizes something.]
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Richie: Hang on!
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[He gets up, striking a chord on the organ as he does so, walks over to
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Eddie and switches off the television.]
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Richie: You had eleven pounds eighty. Right? You spent one pound fifty
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on the porn mag.
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Eddie: Art pamphlet!
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Richie: That is beside the point. One pound fifty from eleven pounds
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eighty leaves ten pounds thirty. And you've only got thirty.
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Pee. Where's the other tenner, you grasping little Fagin?
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Eddie: Oh, sod off you stupid fat git!
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Richie: Don't try to wriggle out of it by being all grown up! What did
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you squander it on?
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Eddie: I put a bet on "Miss World".
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Richie: You put a bet on "Miss Worl-d"? You put a bet on "Miss World"!
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Great! [switches on] Hah, haw, hwoor, hwooorrgh.
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Eddie: Richie, Richie, this is "Panorama".
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Richie: Oh. [switches over] Gawww-ooh! Great! Which one's ours, old
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chum?
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Eddie: Miss China.
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Richie: Miss China! All right, where are you, me lovely?
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Eddie: Whop, there she is, there she is!
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Richie: Eddie, you haven't put our money on that old boiler have you?
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Eddie: Come on me beauty! Mind the steps! Blimey, that's a bit of a
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nasty tumble.
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Richie: Eddie, she can't even walk!
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Eddie: Hang on, hang on, she's lost a couple of teeth. Spit 'em out
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dear, they'll never notice!
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Richie: Well stop smiling you stupid cow! God, look at her mouth,
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there should be a lollipop man standing on it stopping the
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traffic! Eddie, what on earth possessed you to put our money
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on the Thing from the Swamp?
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Eddie: I got odds of a thousand to one! If she comes in ahead of the
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pack we stand to make ten thousand quid! Ah, imagine it...
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lying on the sun-drenched shore as the Caribbean laps at your
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feet... A scantily-clad maiden brings you your seventeenth
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large Tequila Sunrise and a slap-up grill for two... Gaww!
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Richie: Yeah... Well the way Quasimodo's going we'll be lucky to get a
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wet weekend in Reigate. She's got a tattoo on her face!
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Eddie: No, that's just a bit of blood.
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Richie: Oh Eddie. Why couldn't you put our money on something decent
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like, like Miss America?
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Eddie: Oh, pointless Richie. The odds were five to one on. We'd have
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only made two quid.
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Richie: Yeah, but two quid in the hand's better than a tenner down the
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lav!
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[The picture and sound on the television start to break up.]
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Richie: What's wrong with the reception?
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Eddie: It's your fault for knocking the telly over. Hang on, I'll
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give it a bang.
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[Eddie gets up, circles his open hand over the top of the television,
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chooses a spot and slaps his hand down.]
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Announcer: A shame about the fall there, Shin Tei, I hope there's not too
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much damage and I'm sure the judges will take that into
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account. Now tell me, from what part of lovely China do you
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come from?
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Miss China: My family are living--
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Richie: I can't understand a word of this!
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Eddie: Well that's because she's talking in Chinese.
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Richie: Hang on, I'll give it a bang.
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[Richie tries to copy what Eddie did, but the television goes completely
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silent.]
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Eddie: You stupid git, there's ten grand riding on this!
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Richie: Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry.
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[Eddie hits the television again. It immediately starts working.]
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Richie: Ha ha ha -- how do you do that?
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[Richie tries it again. He hits the top of the television, there is a loud
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explosion, all the lights go out, smoke pours out of the television.]
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Eddie: Richie! Are you all right? Where are you?
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Richie: I'm over the other side of the room.
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Eddie: Over here?
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Richie: No, I'm over here!
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Eddie: What, over, over here?
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Richie: Yeah, this is me here.
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Eddie: Right.
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[Eddie punches him hard. Richie flies across the room.]
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Eddie: Have we got any more fuse wire?
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Richie: It's in the kitchen drawer.
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[Eddie opens the fridge and peers in, silhouetted by the light.]
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Eddie: There's nothing in here.
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Richie: That's 'cause that's the fridge. Ooh, shit! Mind, the kettle's
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still hot!
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Eddie: Where is it?
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Richie: It's down... here! Shit! I've done it again! That's three
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times now!
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Eddie: Oh God, there's no fuse wire in here. Richie!
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Richie: What?
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Eddie: Hold this.
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Richie: What?
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[The lights come back on., flickering wildly Richie is standing on a chair
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holding a screwdriver jammed into the fuse-box. He can't hold it and the
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lights go out again]
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Eddie: Stick it back in, stick it back in! We're seconds away from
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the result!
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Richie: No, Eddie, please!
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Announcer: In second place, number twelve, Miss America.
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Eddie: Hey! Richie! That was Miss America, the favourite! We're in
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with a chance!
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Richie: I think I'm going to faint.
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Eddie: Yeah, it's pretty exiting, isn't it!
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Richie: Eddie, I can't hold it much longer!
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Eddie: Just another ten seconds!
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Richie: Please, it's your turn, surely it's your turn!
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Eddie: Oh, shut your cakehole!
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Announcer: And this year's Miss World is...
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Richie: Go on, have a go Eddie, it's fun!
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Eddie: Here it comes!
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Announcer: ...Number thirty-seven, Miss France.
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Eddie: I don't believe it, it's a fix!
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[Eddie puts his foot through the television, which explodes.]
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Richie: Did we win?
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Eddie: No, we lost.
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Richie: Hh. Knackers!
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[Richie lets go of the screwdriver. The fuse-box explodes. Richie is thrown
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off the chair.]
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Eddie: Richie, are you okay?
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Richie: Am I... okay? No I'm not bloody okay! Wait 'til I get my hands
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on you, you little bast-- Shit, that bloody kettle's still
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hot! Oh God life's horrible! Ten grand down the toilet and a
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scalded hand! Why does fate treat me like this? Oh, well at
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least things can't get any worse. Hwoo wooo waaargh...
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|
[He falls out of the kitchen window with a fading cry and a crash from
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below. A dog barks. Fade down. Fade up. The lights come back on.]
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Eddie: There we go -- dab hand Eddie! That'll be eleven thousand, six
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|
hundred and forty-five pounds and sixty-six new pence. Or we
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|
could just call it quits on the rent Richie. Richie? Richie?
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|
I'll take that as a "yes" then, shall I?
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[He picks up Richie's note from by the window.]
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Eddie: "Dear Eddie, by the time you read this I will be dead. I know
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you'll be feeling terribly guilty but don't blame yourself,
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|
although it really is your fault. If I was alive I would
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forgive you, but I'm not, so I can't, so you'll just have to
|
|
live with it. Richard." Hahh-ugh... Poor blighter. All he
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|
needed was the love of a good woman. Well, not even a good
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|
one, any old one would have done. Slap a wig on a speak-your-
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weight machine and he'd have been happy. And now he's gone and
|
|
done himself in.
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|
[He sits at the organ and strikes a sorrowful chord.]
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Eddie: Well this ought to fetch a few quid.
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|
[Richie staggers in, covered in muck.]
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|
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Richie: Who left the kitchen window open?
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Eddie: Richard, you're alive!
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Richie: Yes, the amount of pain I'm in would suggest so.
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|
[Richie punches out a number on the phone.]
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|
Richie: Hello, BBC! Yes, put me through to the "Miss World" programme
|
|
-- I wish to complain in the strongest possible terms! Yeah,
|
|
well put me through to ITV then! Hello? Hello!
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|
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|
[He slams the phone down.]
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|
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|
Richie: Would you believe it? Oohh!
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|
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|
[He sits down gingerly.]
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|
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|
Richie: It's just typical, isn't it. We're on the brink of winning ten
|
|
thousand pounds and some ugly Frog bint scoops up all our
|
|
hopes in her garlic-stained claw and discards them like some
|
|
used tissue.
|
|
Eddie: That's very poetic Richie.
|
|
Richie: Oh sod off! Go on, sod off! Get to soddery! It's all your
|
|
fault.
|
|
Eddie: Sod off yourself, you great fat git! It's me that just lost
|
|
ten thousand quid!
|
|
Richie: Well half of it was mine.
|
|
Eddie: It bloody well was not! D'you think I'm going to lie around
|
|
the sun-drenched Caribbean with bus-fulls of dusky maidens
|
|
fulfilling my every sordid whim and have a great fat blotchy
|
|
white walrus lying next to me, blathering on and on about
|
|
himself and spoiling the atmos.? No, I'm bloody not!
|
|
Richie: Well thank you very much Edward. You learn something every
|
|
day, don't you? And today I learnt that you're a complete
|
|
bastard. Well, I think I might turn in now, I feel so
|
|
enriched. Nighty-night, Eddie!
|
|
|
|
[He walks to the door but then comes back and sits down next to Eddie.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: Why can't we ever bloody win anything?
|
|
Eddie: Oh, don't be stupid Richie. People like us aren't meant to win
|
|
things.
|
|
Richie: Well what are we meant to do then?
|
|
Eddie: Look, you get born, you keep your head down, and then you die.
|
|
If you're lucky.
|
|
Richie: Oh come on. There must be more to it than that.
|
|
Eddie: Well there's the telly.
|
|
|
|
[They both look at the empty shell that was once a television.]
|
|
|
|
Eddie: Well there was. Do you want me to switch the gas on?
|
|
Richie: What d'you mean?
|
|
Eddie: Go on -- top yourself. The telly's bust, it'd be a good bit of
|
|
entertainment.
|
|
Richie: Hahhhh ha ha! Haaa! I know you're just trying to cheer me up.
|
|
|
|
[Eddie shakes his head.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: And you're right. You know, you have to laugh, don't you? Ha
|
|
ha ha h-- ohhh, no you don't really do you? Ahh, it's no good.
|
|
I think I've reached my bottom. What we couldn't have done
|
|
with ten thousand grands...
|
|
Eddie: Well...
|
|
|
|
[Eddie slaps Richie on the shoulder. Richie's head bounces off the wall.]
|
|
|
|
Eddie: We couldn't have done anything really. You see, hahh hh-hh, I
|
|
never put the bet on. I just said I did so that you'd insist
|
|
we watch "Miss World".
|
|
Richie: Well where's the missing tenner then?
|
|
Eddie: Well. I saw you picking your veg. as I went out this morning,
|
|
so I thought I'd better have a slap-up grill before I came
|
|
home. Yum yum.
|
|
|
|
[Richie looks at Eddie, closes his fist, and punches him. Freeze-frame, the
|
|
credits roll.]
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|
|
|
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|
Transcription James Kew <j.kew@ic.ac.uk>. Last revised July 1994.
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|
|
"Bottom -- The Scripts", a BBC book, contains full scripts to
|
|
Series One, including many lines that were cut for transmission.
|
|
Series One and Series Two are available on BBC videos.
|