655 lines
30 KiB
Plaintext
655 lines
30 KiB
Plaintext
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BOTTOM
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======
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by Adrian Edmondson and Rik Mayall
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Series 2, Episode 5
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Holy
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====
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Richie Rik Mayall
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Eddie Adrian Edmondson
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Spudgun Steven O'Donnell
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Hedgehog Christopher Ryan
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Mr. Harrison Roger Sloman
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Valerie Bates Tina Foley
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Scene 1. Eddie's Bedroom.
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-------------------------
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[Eddie is in bed asleep, his hands over his ears. A red-sleeved arm holds a
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tape recorder around the door; a few tinny bars of "Deck The Halls With
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Boughs Of Holly" are heard. Richie enters, dressed as Father Christmas.]
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Richie: Ho ho ho!
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[Eddie opens his eyes and smirks shiftily.]
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Richie: And this [puts up a pair of tights stuffed with presents] is
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for Richie, who's been a good little boy, and this [puts up a
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small empty sock] is for Eddie. Enough said. Right, where's the
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sherry?
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[Richie goes over to the table, upon which stands a bottle of sherry and a
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glass. He picks up the bottle, not noticing that it is covering a red
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button. He tries to pour himself a drink, but the bottle is empty.]
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Richie: Hm? Hm? Typical.
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Eddie: Hic!
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Richie: Never mind. Sweet dreams little boy! Ho ho ho!
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Eddie: [quietly] Ha ha ha!
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[Richie puts the bottle back down, pressing the button. Alarms start
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ringing, lights start flashing. Richie treads on a rake which hits him in
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the face; a boxing-glove on a spring flies out of a cupboard and hits him;
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a drawer opens revealing two crossbows which fire a rope, tying him up; a
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noose drops around his neck; a candle burns through a string, releasing an
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axe which cuts a rope lets a suspended barber's chair drop which hoists
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Richie up into the air.]
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Eddie: Merry Christmas Santa!
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Richie: [strangled] Cut me down Eddie! I mean, little boy!
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Eddie: It'll cost you ten quid, Richie.
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Richie: I'm not Richie, I'm Santa Claus. Ho ho -- erggh -- ho.
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Eddie: All right then, it'll cost you ten quid, Santa Claus.
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Richie: Oh all right then, here you are. Oh God, I don't know why I
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bother, every year the same. There you are.
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Eddie: Ta very much.
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[Eddie gets out a flick-knife and cuts the rope. Richie falls to the floor
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with a crash.]
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Eddie: Now that was a particularly nasty fall. Hic!
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[Richie staggers to his feet, blood dripping down his white beard.]
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Richie: Season's greetings to you too, little fellow! Ho ho ho! Ho ho --
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oh Christ I think I've broken my leg!
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[He stumbles out. Eddie settles back down to sleep. Richie burst back in,
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undisguised.]
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Richie: Merry Christmas, Eddie! I thought I heard sleigh-bells -- has He
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been? Ooh, he has! Oh joy, oh joy, let's open our presents. Ah,
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oh look, mine's bigger than yours. That must mean I've been a
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nicer boy than you.
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Eddie: Richie, go back to bed, it's only half past three. I told you,
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no present-opening until half past seven.
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Richie: Ooh, come on, let's see what Santa's brought us. Hm-hmm-hm-hmmm!
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Ooh, it's a, it's, it's a Brussels sprout! Hey, that should come
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in handy for Christmas lunch!
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[Eddie sighs. Three hours later...]
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Richie: Ooh, it's a, it's a, it's, it's another Brussels sprout! Thought
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so. Hey, we must have enough for a whole Christmas lunch now.
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[He puts the sprout amongst a pile of food -- potatoes, a packet of
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stuffing, a turkey...]
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Richie: Good old Santa, he thinks of everything. Right, now that's
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present number 113 -- another Brussels sprout... Ha. Mustn't
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forget the thank-you letter list. Don't want Santa to think
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we're ungrateful Eddie. Eddie? Oh Eddie, you've fallen asleep
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again! Come on, wake up. Aren't you going to open your stocking?
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Eddie: Well I would. But there doesn't seem to be much in this small
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child's sock.
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Richie: Oh, surprise surprise. Perhaps you haven't been a very good
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little boy.
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Eddie: Did you post my letter to Father Christmas? 'Cause I can't seem
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to find the star-bird I asked for. Or the Batman cape. Or the
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ticket to the Bahamas.
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Richie: Great heavens Eddie, you can't expect Santa Claus to put
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expensive gift items like that in your stocking. Now come on,
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it's time -- let's get our big ones out! [Eddie looks puzzled]
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Oh yes, tee-hee, big Christmas joke, a bit like "Do you like
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stuffing?" Pfft! Haha. No, come on, I meant what have you got
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me?
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Eddie: Here you go Richie. [hands over a small present] Well aren't
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you going to open it?
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Richie: No, I don't think I'll bother.
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Eddie: Why not, what's wrong with it?
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Richie: Well it's about twenty times too small, isn't it?
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Eddie: It's the thought that counts.
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Richie: No it's not, it's the size that counts! Don't you ever read
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Cosmopolitan?
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Eddie: Well it's a bit difficult to because they're all hidden under
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your mattress!
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Richie: All right, that'll do, that'll do! Let's try and keep it
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festive, shall we? God, I hate Christmas! Ha. Right, let's get
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on with it, let's be nice. I thought you said you were going to
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get me something sun-kissed and exotic?
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Eddie: And I have, just open it.
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Richie: It's a miniature bottle of Malibu. Correction, it's an empty
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miniature bottle of Malibu.
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Eddie: Correct. Merry Christmas, Richie.
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Richie: Well what use is that?
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Eddie: Well you can use it to keep Malibu in. As long as you keep it
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away from me. Hic!
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Richie: Right, that's it. [fists up]
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Eddie: Oh hang on, hang on, hang on. I was only joking. It's good for
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morale. Look -- here's your big one. [hands Richie a large box]
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Richie: Oh, oh Eddie you haven't! You haven't! [opens it and looks
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inside] Oh, you haven't.
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Eddie: What do you mean?
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Richie: Well it's empty, isn't it?
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Eddie: No it's not!
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Richie: Oh no, beg your pardon. There's a toilet roll in here. A used
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toilet roll.
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Eddie: That is not a used toilet roll. That is a play telescope. I've
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drawn a picture of Sue Carpenter in a bikini on the beach at one
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end.
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Richie: Haa-haah. Haaah. [looks through] Hey, that's bloody good,
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Eddie! ...Why has she got five legs?
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Eddie: No, that's her hand. She's waving, it's perspective.
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[demonstrates to camera] Hello Richie!
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Richie: Oh yes, that's bloody good! Hey, she's only got one knocker.
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Eddie: No, that's not a knocker, that's a speech bubble. She's talking
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to you.
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Richie: Oh yes, so she is! [reading with difficulty] "Fick uf, you sad
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pathtic winker." ...I wonder what she means!
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Scene 2. The Flat.
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------------------
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Eddie: God, seven o'clock. Another twenty-seven hours of Christmas to
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go. I don't thing I'm gonna survive it, I'll have to blank out
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in front of the telly.
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Richie: You hold that finger right there young man, no-one in this house
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watches the telly until the Queen's Speech!
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Eddie: But it's Noel's Christmas Family Video Accidents!
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Richie: I don't care, we're English here and we're going to do Christmas
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properly. Alright? Well, unless there's a Bond film on,
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obviously. [yanks the cord out of the television] Okay? Now
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let's keep it Christmassy. Right now look, there's only five
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hours until lunch, I've got to get my sprouts on. Don't want
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them all crunchy.
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Eddie: Not sprouts! I hate sprouts!
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Richie: Oh will you stop whinging Eddie! Nobody likes sprouts.
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Eddie: Then why are we having them then?
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Richie: Because it's Christmas! Oh look, we've got guests coming,
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remember? So I'd better get on with my turkey.
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Eddie: What are you going to do with it?
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Richie: Well, it's the season of goodwill and peace on Earth, so I
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thought I'd chop both its feet off, rip out its innards, strip
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it, shove an onion up its arse and bung it in a very hot place
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for four hours until its completely burnt.
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Eddie: Fair enough.
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Richie: Right, now lend a hand Eddie, and peel the potatoes. We've got
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four people coming so that means, er-de-der-der-der-der-der,
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four potatoes.
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Eddie: Right.
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[Eddie picks up an electric drill fitted with a sanding disk and starts
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work on a potato.]
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Eddie: D'you really want me to peel 'em? I mean, you're only going to
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incinerate them, aren't you? Why don't we just bung 'em straight
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in the bin?
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Richie: Oh all right, I'll do all the cooking. So long as you do all the
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decorations. Now Eddie, crackers?
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Eddie: Yes. But it's never stopped me so far.
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Richie: No, I mean have you got the crackers?
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Eddie: No, it's just the way my trousers hang.
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Richie: Eddie, enough of the crackers jokes.
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Eddie: All right.
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Richie: I'm talking about the things you put in your hand and pull.
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Eddie: Well I've got one of those, but I'm not gonna stick it on the
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table!
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Richie: Eddie, you are funnier than Jonathan Ross.
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Eddie: But he's not funny.
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Richie: Exactly. Now get out of my kitchen before I twat you. [hits
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Eddie with a frying-pan] Not fast enough.
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Eddie: Fair enough, point taken.
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Richie: Right, now Eddie, you scrape all the congealed bits off the
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cutlery and lay the table. All right? I'll get on with the
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brandy butter. [upends the bottle] Where's the brandy?
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Eddie: Er, hic!
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Richie: Well that's just effing marvellous, isn't it?
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Eddie: Oh, hold your horses, Richie, don't panic. Because -- brr-dd-d-
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d-d-dbr-d-d-d-d-d-ddd -- vodka margarine!
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[Eddie opens the lid of a margarine tub; they sniff and recoil.]
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Richie: That's brilliant Eddie. Are you sure it's flammable?
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Eddie: Well, I anticipated your concerns, so I spiced it up with a
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couple of cans of hairspray.
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Richie: That... is... brilliant! Well done, that's sorted, right, now,
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table placings... er, I thought I'd put you next to Spudgun,
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right.
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Eddie: Yeah.
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Richie: Because you're both, er... well, sort of... well... eurgh, you
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know. Oh, that reminds me, did you get the four quid off them
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each for the meal?
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Eddie: Yes I did.
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Richie: Great, where is it?
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Eddie: I spent it on the brandy.
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Richie: Oh I despair, I really do. And look, it's half past eight!
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Eddie: [shouts] Half past eight, and all's crap!
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Richie: I've got to get into my kitchen. Here's a can of spray snow, you
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make everything look all Christmassy, I'll go and scrub my
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sprouts.
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Eddie: I thought you were going to do some cooking? [Richie throws a
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pan at him] Fair enough, point taken.
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[Eddie sprays snow onto his glasses.]
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Richie: Ha ha, I don't know, Eddie, haha, when it comes down to it
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there's only me and Keith Floyd left.
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[Richie raises his chopper high, aims, and brings it down. Surprised and a
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little shocked, he lifts up his hand, which is now missing an index finger
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and spraying blood.]
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Richie: Oh, oh, oh no, Eddie! Help! Ooh, ooh!
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Eddie: Why? What have you done?
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Richie: I would have thought it was pretty obvious, wouldn't you?
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Eddie: Oh! Oh, I see. Oooh. That's a bit of a nasty nick, isn't it? Why
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don't you call for the ambulance?
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Richie: Well I haven't got anything to bloody well dial with now, have
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I? Oh oh... Right, First Aid, First Aid. What's the procedure
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for somebody who's just chopped their finger off?
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Eddie: Um... I think they bleed to death in half an hour.
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Richie: Oh, I don't want to die! What did we use to do in the Boy
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Scouts? He- no, there's no time for that now, is there? Eddie,
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quick, apply a tourniquet before I lose consciousness.
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Eddie: Okey-dokey, erm -- what is a tourniquet?
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Richie: It's where you restrict the flow of blood around the body. Come
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on!
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Eddie: Here goes!
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[Eddie puts his hand around Richie's neck and starts squeezing.]
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Eddie: Yep, there you go -- all the blood's rushing to your head. Don't
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you worry, I'll keep it there! Look, look, it's working!
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[Richie manages to punch Eddie away.]
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Richie: Ooohhh, ohhh...
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Eddie: Richie, look! I've found your finger! [puts it up his nose]
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Pull your finger out, Richie!
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Richie: This is no time for fun and games!
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Eddie: Yes it is, it's Christmas Day.
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[Richie grabs his finger and puts it back on the stump.]
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Richie: Hah, ah, it's worked. Oh my God. Right, Eddie, get your needle
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out. I think you'd better sew it back on.
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Eddie: Oh, I dunno. You know me and my sewing.
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Richie: Hmm. That's true, that's true.
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Eddie: Hmm.
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Richie: That reminds me, I must take that dress you made me down to the
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charity shop.
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Eddie: That wasn't a dress -- that was a woolly hat.
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Richie: Was it? Oh.
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Eddie: Tchah, never mind. Because... I'm a dab hand with one of these.
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[Eddie holds up a staple-gun. Richie lays his hand on the table and Eddie
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dances from side to side stapling him.]
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Richie: Ah, oh, ah, oh oh oh, ooh... Thanks Eddie. Oh!
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Eddie: Sorry! Wrong finger. [more staples]
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Richie: Oh, ah, it worked. Thank God. Hah.
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[Richie tries to walk into the kitchen. The table drags behind him. He
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looks down at his hand and faints.]
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Scene 3. The Flat, Later.
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-------------------------
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[Eddie has "decorated" the flat by spraying "QPR" and "Edie is grate" on
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the walls in spray-snow. Richie's hand is bandaged; his finger sticks out
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at an odd angle.]
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Richie: I don't know why I bother, I really don't. Eddie, stand back.
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[takes a table lamp and smashes off the bulb] Merry Christmas!
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[Richie jabs the lamp into Eddie's groin. Eddie jerks and twitches; the
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doorbell rings.]
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Richie: Lordy lordy, it's the guests. We've got no time for fighting
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now, we'll just have to pick up where we left off. And please
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try and remember where we got up to.
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Eddie: Well it's gonna be bloody difficult to forget!
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Richie: Well, all right, but just in case... [punches Eddie] Remember
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that! Right, now you tidy up in here, I'll go and welcome the
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guests over the threshold. [another ring] All right, all
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right, I'm coming! God, they can't wait to get in and eat me out
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of house and home, can they, parasitic bastards! [opens the
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door] Hello! [to Spudgun] Dave Hedgehog, how are you?
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Hedgehog: No, I'm Dave.
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Richie: What? Oh yes, of course you are. Oh God, my eyes! I really must
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stop masturbating. [embarrassing pause] Oh ha, ha ha ha, oh,
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hello! Gosh. It's been, what...
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Hedgehog: Raining?
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Richie: No no no, it's been ages.
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Spudgun: What has?
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Richie: Well, since we last... you know...
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Hedgehog: We never... you know... with you!
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Richie: No, ha, no, it's all going wrong, this is silly, er... Come in,
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come in! Come ye, come ye. [sings] God rest ye merry
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gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. Remember -- er...
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[Spudgun and Hedgehog go into the flat.]
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Spudgun: I thought you said he was being put away before Christmas?
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Eddie: Yeah. Don't worry boys, she won't last long. She lost a lot of
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blood this morning and I don't think she's got the stamina.
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Spudgun: Great. Shall we have a drink then?
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Richie: [enters] Yeah, here we are! Drinks coming right up. [passes
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round a tray of drinks]
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Spudgun: [tastes] Ergh, what's that?
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Richie: Gravy.
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Spudgun: Gravy?
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Richie: Yes, gravy. Somebody drank all the sherry, didn't they Eddie?
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Eddie: Hic!
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Spudgun: Well I'm not drinking that.
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Richie: I beg your pardon.
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Spudgun: I said I'm not drinking that.
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Richie: I'll pretend I didn't hear that. You just drink that right up
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right now young man! Just drink it up right now! Or do I have to
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force it down your throat, eh, eh?
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Spudgun: What d'you reckon, Dave?
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Hedgehog: Drink it. He's a psycho.
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Spudgun: Merry Christmas everyone.
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Richie: Yes, Merry Christmas one and all!
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[Spudgun and Richie gulp their drinks down; Eddie throws his over his
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shoulder.]
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Hedgehog: What, is it Christmas? Today? Oh, Merry Christmas then. That
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must be why that woman gave me that after-shave this morning.
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Eddie: What woman?
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Hedgehog: Oh, you know, that old woman who keeps hanging around the place.
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You know Eddie, what's her name, my wife. Andrea. No no, Avril,
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that's it. No, what am I thinking of, Susan! That's the one.
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Richie: Right right, places places! Spudgun, I thought you could go next
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to Eddie 'cause you're both so ghastly, and Dave, I thought you
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could come over next to me in case someone suddenly came in
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unexpectedly they might take you for some sort of bohemian,
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rather than the sad unemployable wretch you really are. Come
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along, enjoy yourselves, it's supposed to be Christmas after
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all! Heavens above.
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Spudgun: Oh, what's that smell?
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Eddie: That's lunch.
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Spudgun: Oh thank God for that. Thought I had an accident.
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Richie: Right, here we go. Spudgun, one potato or two?
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Spudgun: Two please.
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Richie: No. One.
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Spudgun: No, two.
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Richie: No. One.
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Spudgun: Okay, one.
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Richie: All right, that's better.
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[Richie ladles out a potato; it drops like a scorched stone and smashes the
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plate.]
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Spudgun: I've changed my mind, none.
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Richie: Excuse fingers. [passes out the rest of the potatoes] There we
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are. And help yourselves to sprouts.
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Spudgun: Oh no, not sprouts.
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Hedgehog: Sprouts? So it is Christmas then.
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Richie: Now then, who like stuffing? Oh hoo ho ho hoaa ho ho! ...Oh, no-
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one. Oh well, worth it for the joke eh? ...Cor, what a
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magnificent bird!
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Others: Where?
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Richie: Ha ha, gets 'em every year!
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[Richie sharpens his knife; Hedgehog holds up a tray to protect himself.]
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Richie: Here we go then. Hey, hey hey, who's for a lovely juicy bit of
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breast? Ah-ha-hahahahaha! I love Christmas! Hey, Eddie, are you
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a leg or a breast man?
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Eddie: [to Spudgun] Would you like some magazines to read while he
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goes through his repertoire of Christmas jokes?
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Richie: [unwrapping the turkey] Oh, well it's all academic now as I
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seem to have made a slight miscalculation with the timing.
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[reveals a small black lump in the centre of the tray] Oh well,
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never mind, let's get straight onto the pudding. Eddie, switch
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out the lights!
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Eddie: Right-oh! [does so]
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Richie: [trips] Hwoogh! Eddie, switch the lights back on.
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Eddie: Right-oh!
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Richie: Oh, there I am. Now Eddie, you've got to wait until I get to the
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pudding before you switch out the lights.
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Eddie: Right-oh!
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Richie: No, no no no no no! Hold on! Just smearing the vodka margarine
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on it. Now Eddie, are you sure this will sustain a flame?
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Eddie: Oh yes, it should do, it's been soaking for two weeks. Should go
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up a treat.
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Richie: Right then, here goes. Eddie, switch off the lights.
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Eddie: Right-oh!
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[Richie lights the pudding; a huge sheet of flame flares up from it.]
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Richie: Ooh, bloody hell, ooh, ooh! Oh oh, oooh, oh ooh...
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[He manages to drop it on the table; Eddie switches the lights back on and
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|
attacks it with the fire extinguisher.]
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|
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Eddie: Hah! Oh well. Same time next year lads?
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Richie: No no no no, come on! Of, come on, there's plenty of Christmas
|
|
fun left. No-one likes pudding anyway. Tell you what, let's
|
|
withdraw to the drawing-room and pull some crackers.
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|
Spudgun: What, there's some birds coming?
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|
Richie: What? Ah, hahahahahaha, hahahaha, yeah, Christmas is great for
|
|
jokes isn't it. Come on, come on, chivvy chivvy chivvy chivvy
|
|
chivvy. Honestly, if it wasn't for me you lot would just end up
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sitting around all day drinking and watching the television.
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|
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|
[Eddie, Spudgun and Hedgehog sigh.]
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|
|
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Scene 4. The Flat, Later.
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|
-------------------------
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|
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|
[Eddie, Hedgehog and Spudgun are lounging around, wearing paper hats and
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|
clearly bored.]
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|
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|
Spudgun: See they've changed the titles to Emmerdale Farm. 'S just called
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|
Emmerdale now.
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|
Eddie: Yeah.
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|
Spudgun: Doesn't take so long to read. They've got a lot more time to do
|
|
other things. Can pack a lot more story in.
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|
Richie: Hm-hmm-hm-hm-hm-hmm-hmm, hmm-hm-hm-hm-hmmm!
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|
Eddie: We still can't hear you!
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|
Richie: Yes, but I'm not allowed to speak, otherwise I'm out of the
|
|
game!
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|
Eddie: Right, well you've just spoken, so you must be out of the game
|
|
then.
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|
Richie: No no no no, all right, right, stop, stop, new game. Okay? Hmm.
|
|
Now look, look, when I go like this [film camera gesture] it
|
|
means it's a film. All right? So, [gesture] hmm-mmm-hmm, it's
|
|
a film.
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|
Eddie: Right, well, what's it called?
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|
Richie: No, you're supposed to tell me.
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|
Eddie: What, don't you know?
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|
Hedgehog: If you don't know we could be here all night.
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|
Richie: No no no, but you have to guess!
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|
Spudgun: Why don't you just tell us, it would be a lot quicker.
|
|
Richie: Becau- oh all right, stop, stop! Shall we start again? All
|
|
right, off we go. [TV gesture] Hmm-hmm-hm-mm.
|
|
Eddie: All right, so it's a film.
|
|
Richie: No, it's a television programme.
|
|
Hedgehog: What, they televised it?
|
|
Spudgun: No, they brought it out on video.
|
|
Richie: No no no no no, it's not a film.
|
|
Eddie: You just said it was a film!
|
|
Richie: All right, I'll go back to the film!
|
|
Eddie: Look, why don't you just tell us what it is?
|
|
Richie: All right then, it was "The Guns Of Navarone"! Satisfied?
|
|
Eddie: Right, my turn. [film gesture] Goldfinger. Right? Hedgehog.
|
|
Hedgehog: Yeah, I'll have Goldfinger as well.
|
|
Richie: But you can't have that, Eddie just had that.
|
|
Eddie: Look, let's just all have Goldfinger and then pack it in, okay?
|
|
Right. Spudgun.
|
|
Spudgun: [film gesture] Goldfinger.
|
|
Eddie: Right. Now that's that over with. Okay? What's next?
|
|
Richie: Sardines.
|
|
Spudgun: Great, anything's better than that bloody turkey.
|
|
|
|
[The doorbell rings.]
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|
|
|
Richie: Oh Jesus Christ! Who can that be? Oh, they haven't started
|
|
collecting on Christmas Day, have they? [opens the door] Sod
|
|
off, you do-gooding bastards! [looks down; there is a baby in a
|
|
basket on the floor] Oh. Hoh, oh, oh, ooh.
|
|
Eddie: Who is it?
|
|
Richie: I dunno, he can't talk.
|
|
Eddie: Well, punch him in the face and kick him down the stairs. I
|
|
mean, if he's too drunk to talk he won't put up much of a fight,
|
|
will he? Go on, enjoy yourself -- it's Christmas!
|
|
Richie: Guys -- it's a baby.
|
|
Eddie: What?
|
|
Richie: I've got a baby.
|
|
Eddie: We don't want a baby. Get rid of it. We're happy as we are. Why
|
|
spoil everything? We'll drift apart, I mean it's bound to come
|
|
between us.
|
|
Richie: Well I think that it's come between us already. Come on, Eddie,
|
|
it's time we faced up to our responsibilities. We can't carry on
|
|
being playboys all our lives.Besides, it's a fact now. We have
|
|
to deal with it.
|
|
Eddie: Why couldn't you have been more careful?
|
|
Spudgun: Poor little mite. What a way to spend your first Christmas.
|
|
Eddie: What, lying on your back with a bottle in your mouth? It sounds
|
|
pretty good to me!
|
|
|
|
[The baby starts crying.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: Look, don't cry little matey! Coo-ee! [puts a towel over his
|
|
head, playing peek-a-boo from behind it] Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoooo!
|
|
Hoo-hooooo! ...I think he likes me.
|
|
Spudgun: Poor little blighter. His first Christmas, no family, no
|
|
friends, no Christmas presents.
|
|
Richie: Well he's got us now. We'll look after him.
|
|
Spudgun: Yeah, he can have my Christmas present. It's a box of Terry's
|
|
All Gold. We'll have to wait for his little teeth to come
|
|
through before he can manage the chewy ones.
|
|
Eddie: Yeah, look, he can have my Frankenstein mask I was going to
|
|
scare the shit out of Richie with later. [shows it to Richie]
|
|
Richie: Ooh, oh!
|
|
Hedgehog: Yeah, and he can have my bottle of after-shave. It's a new one.
|
|
It's called "Grrr".
|
|
Richie: Gold... Frankenstein... and Grrr! And you're all wearing crowns.
|
|
...And I'm a virgin!
|
|
Eddie: I thought you said you weren't?
|
|
Richie: No, I know, but I am really, I was fibbing to look hunky.
|
|
Eddie: Oh. Didn't work, did it?
|
|
Richie: No. But enough of that.
|
|
Eddie: All right.
|
|
Richie: Guys, if I was you I'd stay on my knees. This is it. This is the
|
|
second coming. Oh look -- the three kings... Gold, Frankenstein,
|
|
and Grrr... the virgin birth... and look, a blue head-scarf! I
|
|
mean, that really tops it off! It's all slotting into place. I
|
|
knew I was special. I always knew I was different from the other
|
|
people. That's why I never got a shag! I was being kept pure,
|
|
because I'm better than everyone else in the whole world! Oh, I
|
|
had a few pretty narrow squeaks though, oh oh yes! ...No I
|
|
didn't really, I'm lying to myself. Guys, I think that we should
|
|
pray.
|
|
|
|
[They bend over the basket, hands clasped. Suddenly a loud fart is heard.
|
|
They jump back, fanning the air.]
|
|
|
|
Spudgun: I think his nappy needs changing.
|
|
Richie: What?
|
|
Eddie: Yeah, go on Richie. I mean, you're his... mother.
|
|
Richie: But -- ah, come on guys! This is the twentieth century, it's not
|
|
fair.
|
|
Spudgun: But we are not worthy, oh holy one.
|
|
Eddie: Yeah, yeah that's right, oh chosen thing.
|
|
Hedgehog: Right-o, oh one... what he said.
|
|
Richie: What do you mean, what he said? I thought you were supposed to
|
|
be a wise man! Oh all right, I'll do it. Dear oh dear, who'd be
|
|
a woman, I don't know. Hoh.
|
|
|
|
[Richie bends down over the basket. We hear one tape undone... two... and
|
|
then a squelch. They all leap back coughing.]
|
|
|
|
Eddie: Are you sure he's the son of God?
|
|
Richie: Gaheergh, nobody smoke! Eddie, get the mop and the bucket and
|
|
the bleach.
|
|
Spudgun: What? You can't put bleach on a babies bottom! Oh here, let me
|
|
have a go -- I come from a large family.
|
|
Richie: Yeah, well you'd have to mate wouldn't you?
|
|
|
|
[Spudgun punches him in the face and bends down over the baby, holding his
|
|
nose.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
Scene 5. The Flat, Later.
|
|
-------------------------
|
|
|
|
[Spudgun is walking around, the sleeping baby in his arms.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: Haven't you got through to the Pope yet?
|
|
Hedgehog: [looking at telephone directory] "Pope, G."
|
|
Richie: What do you mean, "Pope, G."? He's not Pope Gavin is he? He's
|
|
Pope John Paul. Look under "Pope, J.P."!
|
|
Hedgehog: Oh, right, J.P. Oh, here he is: "Pope, J.P." Ah, I didn't know
|
|
he lived in Twickenham.
|
|
Richie: Ha, hey Eddie, did you know that--
|
|
|
|
[Eddie is slumped in a chair, swigging a bottle of whisky.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: Eddie, stop that immediately! You show some respect!
|
|
Eddie: [slurred] Oh, whaddaya mean? I'm not gonna let the arrival of
|
|
the Son of God spoil my Christmas!
|
|
Richie: Ooh, there's gonna be some terrible things happen to you when
|
|
you finally pop off.
|
|
Eddie: Oooh-hoo-hoooo.
|
|
Richie: Yes! I shall have a word with Richard Junior here's father, you
|
|
know, my husband-in-law, God? Yeah, I shall make sure you get a
|
|
right proper roasting an no mistake. It's not just my flat now,
|
|
it's my universe. My name is now Richard Mary, and you all have
|
|
to do everything I say otherwise you'll all go to Hell! Yeah!
|
|
|
|
[The door flies open, hitting Richie in the face. It is the landlord, Mr.
|
|
Harrison.]
|
|
|
|
Harrison: Hello boys! Merry Christmas and all that bollocks. I hope you
|
|
didn't mind my not knocking but I just couldn't be bothered.
|
|
Richie: Mr. Harrison! You may be the landlord of this property but I
|
|
happen to be the mother of God! And if you don't get out of here
|
|
I'll--
|
|
Harrison: Oh bugger off you sad git! [punches him] Now, where's my
|
|
grandson?
|
|
Richie: Your... grandson?
|
|
Harrison: What, are you deaf? My daughter left him with me to look after.
|
|
She's coming back in a minute, cow! She went off to see her
|
|
bloody mother, stupid bitch, had a heart attack this morning,
|
|
expects us all to go and visit her, to gather round. I mean,
|
|
she's on her last legs and has Goldfinger on the telly! On
|
|
Christmas Day, I ask yer! Sorry, I didn't ask or anything, but I
|
|
knew you'd say no so I thought sod it, you know. Right. [to
|
|
baby] Cootchy-bloody-cootchy-coo, you! [to the others]
|
|
Anyway, keep your traps shut about my daughter, right, or I'll
|
|
tell the police you kidnapped him, all right?
|
|
Valerie: Father? Where's Johnny?
|
|
Harrison: Oh hello flower-petal, I was just showing him off to the
|
|
neighbours. He's such a bonny... bloody... thing, you know...
|
|
Valerie: Poor thing, he's hungry. I'd better feed him, bring him over
|
|
here Dad.
|
|
|
|
[She sits down between Richie and Eddie.]
|
|
|
|
Valerie: You don't mind do you gents?
|
|
Richie: Oh, no, no.
|
|
Eddie: Go right ahead.
|
|
Richie: Go, go right ahead.
|
|
Both: Merry Bloody Christmas!
|
|
|
|
[They kneel down to watch her unbuttoning. Freeze-frame, roll credits.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
Transcription James Kew <j.kew@ic.ac.uk>. Last revised July 1994.
|
|
|
|
"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.
|