Fun at the Funeral Parlour (2001) s01e03 Episode Script
The Heron Incident
1 JANET: Look at the beautiful puffins, Bill.
Mmm.
They look a bit like Dustin Hoffman, don't they? Oh, there's a lovely bunting.
Yeah, one thing you can't beat, a good bunting.
Oh, look a nice chaffinch.
Buff underparts.
- That means it's a female, doesn't it? - Absolutely.
No better way of making a female than buffing her underparts.
I wouldn't mind buffing your underparts, I can tell you.
- I can see a sweet little twite.
- (WHOOPING SOFTLY) So can I.
Bill.
How many more bird-related metaphors for my parts are you gonna cram into this afternoon? You've already boldly stated how much you would cock my ruff, how you would inspect the plumage of my pipit, handle my great tits and shag my tiny kittiwake with your big redpoll.
I thought you were a nice man, not a randy one.
Randy? Oh, Janet, I'm not randy! It's just that I want to slip your gannet a nice, big, juicy worm.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.
- You can't stop, can you? - Look, I'm only mucking about.
Oh, Janet, please.
I love you.
(SIGHING) Just wish you felt the same way about me, that's all.
I do.
It's just that I'm married to Bertie.
Bertie, Bertie, Bertie! Look, Bertie has been dead for five years! You've got to let him go! - I know but I need some more time.
- Oh.
I'm not sure how much longer I can give you.
Shall I tell you something? I hate bloody birds, I do.
I can't stand bird-watching either.
It is so boring! You know the only reason I do it is to be with you.
You make me feel like a Goodie again.
Actually, I hate birds, too.
But I do like a certain young gentleman who wears Union Jack underpants.
He does the voices for Bananaman and he has a beard.
Tim Brooke-Taylor hasn't grown a beard, has he? Oh, Janet! Oh, look Look, we've just got to face it, please.
You love me.
I love you.
And there is nothing that Bertie can do about it.
(ECHOING) And there is nothing that Bertie can do about it.
Can do about it.
(BIRD SCREECHING) (JANET SCREAMING) (JANET MOANING) Oh, no.
Oh, poor thing! Oh! Call the RSPB! You might be 64, Ivor boy, but you are still looking the bollocks.
- Iechyd da.
- Iechyd da, Da.
- Well, Arwell, good enough for the concert? - Perfect.
I hope I'm as handsome as you when I'm 60.
Sixty, you cheeky fart.
I'm 57, thank you very much.
Anyway, you won't look this good when you're my age.
It's all in the genes, by bach.
You'll end up short and bald with your tits hanging below your balls.
- But you haven't.
- No, I know I haven't.
But your mother has, and you've got her genes.
Sorry about that.
How do you know Mother's bald? You've not seen her since she left you 20 years ago for the midget.
She's a Spaniard, Arwell.
And all Spanish women end up bald by the time they're 40.
- It's a well-known fact.
- Oh.
- Iechyd da.
- Iechyd da.
So why are you all dressed up like Freddie Starr? Have you forgotten? It's the Shakin' Stevens comeback concert down the Legion tonight, man.
Oh, he's not making another comeback, is he? Does he even realise that people don't want him back after he mutilated all those horses? It wasn't Shaky, you fool, that was Equus.
His drummer.
Anyway, I want him back and so do the other 12 people down the Legion with a ticket.
- You gonna come? - Might as well, got nothing else to do.
Should be pretty good.
Mind you, we better not go too mad.
We got an early start in the morning.
You do know that there's a celebrity attending the funeral tomorrow, don't you? - No.
Who's that, then? - Bill Oddie.
- No! - No, shit! I love Bill Oddie.
He did the voices for Bananaman.
Yes, so you'd all better be on your best behaviour, it's a very important day for our business tomorrow.
And I don't want the Oddie spreading bad words about us on UK Gold.
Right you are, sir.
(TELEPHONE RINGING) Iechyd da, Thomas Yes? Okay.
Right.
Bye.
Oh, dear.
Boys, I'm afraid we've got a job.
Apparently, the priests have finished with the heron woman's body, and they want you to pick her up from the bird sanctuary now.
But what about Shakin' Stevens? He's on in half an hour, we'll miss him.
I'm sorry, Arwell, but that woman's got to be buried tomorrow.
We're leaving it a bit late as it is.
If you hurry up, you'll make the concert by the second half.
But I paid £3 to see the whole show.
I don't want to miss any of it.
By the time we've collected the body, brought it back here and upholstered it, it'll be gone midnight.
Shaky will have hung up his denim jacket by then.
Well, come to the concert after the bird sanctuary then.
Look, you can leave the body in the back of the car, and sort it out in the morning.
There's no problem.
Good idea.
Ta-da! Gwynne, I said get a teddy boy outfit.
(GIGGLING) Home, my dear.
I'm home.
(SOBBING) (MAN URINATING) Mrs Guts.
Mrs Guts, is that you? Get out my bed, you impostor.
I said get out of my bed.
(CHUCKLING) This is my bed, Mrs Guts, and my house.
You get your own, you greedy box.
Come on, hurry up.
Let's get down the Legion.
I don't wanna miss one second of Shakin' Stevens.
- Are you the undertakers? - Yes.
She's in there on the table then.
- Righto.
- Cheers.
Come on.
- There she is.
- Right.
Quick.
- Right.
- Undo the zip.
- Okay.
- Right.
- Got the whole bag? Good.
- All good.
- Right.
- Right.
- Right, get ready.
- Yeah.
- All right, come on.
One, two, three.
- One, two, three.
(GRUNTING) Oops.
(WOMAN GROANING) Oh, that's not right, is it? Well, that's just rigor mortis setting in.
Well, give her a whack.
She's wriggling like a mad worm.
I don't like it.
It's giving me the bee-gees.
Harder.
(GRUNTING) Harder.
(WOMAN GROANING) Here.
(WOMAN GROANING) Yeah.
(PERCY LAUGHING) There she blows.
Get her in.
- Billy bollocks.
- Touchdown.
Right, now, what time is it? Big hand's on the 12, little hand's on the 8.
Damn it! It's starting.
Percy, get in quick.
Midnight one more night without sleeping Watching till the morning comes creeping Green door What's that secret you're keeping Can I have a wafer with that? Eh? Well, I don't know if you poured me a beer or gave me a bloody knickerbocker glory.
Green door What's that secret you're keeping? Well, there's an old piano and they play it hot Behind the green door CROWD: # Green door Don't know what they're doing but they laugh a lot Behind the green door CROWD: # Green door What a let down.
I didn't know it wasn't the real Shakin' Stevens.
- Sorry, Arwell.
- Oh, that's all right.
Shaking Stephens with a "PH" is a decent enough impersonator.
Apparently, the real Shakin' Stevens couldn't make it tonight because of a fungal mump infection around his hairy cave.
Oh, that's a shame.
PERCY: Oh, good God, imagine waking up next to that.
Face like a bloody toolbox.
You really are a horrible man.
Hey.
Oh-ho, now stop that breast.
That's more like it.
(PERCY WHISTLING) ARWELL: You wouldn't stand a chance with someone like that.
PERCY: And why not? Well, look at her.
She got a bit of class.
She'll never go for a fanny like you.
I'm no fanny.
I've got a bit of class, too, when it comes to women, you know, and I'll prove it.
You jerky dogs think I'm some kind of dirty pervert.
Doesn't know how to treat a lady? Well, you're wrong.
Watch! Christ, I could do with some damage.
Car park, five minutes.
Cracked it.
Da, come here.
- Got a special drink for you.
- What is it? It's called gumbozine.
It gets you drunk but you won't get a hangover.
IVOR: Is it legal? In zoos, aye.
Try some.
No, no, no, I'll give it a miss.
We've got to be up at 8:00 tomorrow, remember.
See you later.
Saw an eyeball peeping through a smoky cloud Behind the green door CROWD: # Green door When I said Joe sent me someone laughed out loud Behind the green door CROWD: # Green door All I want to do is join the happy crowd I don't believe it.
He's at it already.
Come on.
(WHIMPERING) No.
My teeth.
Oh, no, my face.
That hurts.
(IVOR SINGING DRUNKENLY) Excuse me.
Hang on.
Whoa.
Hey, green door (IVOR MUMBLING) Come on, everybody, green door Green door - Oh, bugger, she liked it rough.
- Rough? Who you been shagging? Sugar Ray Leonard? - She's broken your bloody nose.
- She hasn't broken my nose.
Right.
PERCY: I got a taste for jack and danny.
Five years I've been away and I've got some catching up to do.
So, come on, ladies.
Come to papa.
(IVOR MUMBLING) (DRUNKENLY) # Take me there, green door # (SNORING) - Wake up.
- Huh? What? What happened? Where are we? I can't remember.
I think we got so drunk last night, we decided to walk home.
Didn't get very far.
Oh, my mouth is dry as an Arab's flip-flop.
I don't know what happened.
I only had four Scotches.
Oh.
Oh, my head.
I think I'm gonna chunder.
(RETCHING) Oh! Oh, my dirty dozen kippers! Look at the time.
It's 9.
45.
You were supposed to be at 10, Triffid Orchard 15 minutes ago.
Bill Oddie is gonna bloody kill us! (GRUNTING) Hang on, where's Percy? (GAGGING) (PERCY SCREAMS) What the? Bananaman! Where the hell are they? This is horrendous.
My own sister's funeral.
I'm completely appalled.
Totally disgusting and extremely upsetting.
- Oh, look, there's a jay.
- Oh, let's have a look.
Yeah, see the blue on the wings, when the light catches it.
Isn't that lovely? Do you have to keep going on about bloody birds at a time like this? I'm sorry.
I'm only trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit, aren't I? Yes, Doris, stop being such a bitch.
I am not a bitch.
ALL: Yes, you are.
(ALL CHATTERING) (CAR HONKING) Yes.
Yes.
Do you realise how long we've been waiting? Do you? Oh, I'm terribly sorry we're late, but the traffic was awful in town.
What is so funny? Oh, I'm sorry.
I just remembered that bit where that giant white cat knocked down the Post Office Tower.
Pretty good, Bill.
Comedy classic.
This is not the appropriate time nor place to discuss The Goodies, all right? Do you realise it's our 30th anniversary? I mean, you think they'd show a few repeats, wouldn't you? Right, do you think we should be going, then? What? Oh, yeah, yeah.
Sorry.
Talk to you later, okay.
We can't all fit in this.
Oh, there's another car coming.
My brother's on his way.
He'll be here in a second.
Hold on.
That says "Desmond".
Gwynne, why does that say "Desmond"? I told you to get a Janet.
They'd run out of Janets.
All they had left was Desmond, Sid or Mother.
Well, Mother would have done.
Don't be daft.
Who ever heard of someone called Mother? Not a real name.
Gwynne, I'm gonna have you spayed.
(SCOFFS) - He's not the pallbearer, is he? - Yes, why? Why? He can't lead a funeral dressed like that.
Aye, you're right.
Gwynne, pop into the house, see if you can find more appropriate dress.
Must be something you can borrow.
Be quick.
(CAR APPROACHING) Sorry, I'm late.
I've got no excuse.
I got rat-arsed last night.
Woke up cuffed to a post next to a big fat tart.
Come on, then.
Let's go.
What? In a Mini? And what's wrong with a Mini, Mr Bill "Ooh I Did The Voices For Bananaman" Oddie? Look, I'll tell you what's wrong with a Mini.
It is too small.
Well, it was designed for women, and women are small.
Not all of them.
Quite simply, there are six of us, and we are not gonna fit into a Mini.
It's not a Mini, it's a Panda.
A Fiat Panda.
I don't care what it is! It is too small! - Well, can't you take your own cars? - No, we cannot.
We ordered three cars so we could all go together.
Oh, lady, lady, please don't shout.
I got a hangover that would give a cat nightmares.
Now, listen, four of you can go in my car, and the others can walk.
No! No, no, no, I'm sorry.
We are not walking.
We have paid to be driven to the funeral! - Can't you get the bus? - The bus! Right.
- I'm gonna hit him.
- No, no, please.
Oh, please, no.
Look, it's all right.
I've got an idea.
It might just work.
Ta-da.
Gwynne, what are you doing? Get back to work.
I'm dying for some Skips.
- No, get back! - I'll be two minutes.
Where's he Where's he going? - Don't ask me.
- He can't just pop off into the shops.
Oh, for heaven's sake.
We've already waited for you lot to get changed, and now this.
Just this Uc certificated cartoon, is it, Billy? Yes, Mr Ford.
Only I saw you having a sneaky look at the blue videos up there on the top shelf.
No, I wasn't, Mr Ford.
Honest.
Yes, you were, but it's nothing to be ashamed of.
We do all like a look at a dirty, mucky video from time to time.
And the younger you start, the better.
They're educational, see.
Have this one for gratis.
- But I don't want it, sir.
- Yes, you do.
Now, you take that home, and you experiment with it and you do me some lovely charcoal drawings of the best bits.
Right.
Here, this bottle of Pikey Pops is £3.
50.
- So? - Well, the realCoke's a pound cheaper.
Well, Pikey Pops is better than Coke, and it costs more to make and advertise as well.
I've never seen an advert for Pikey Pops.
Oh, haven't you, big boy? What do you call that, then? Scotch bloody mist? - Well, I'll have six, please.
- Right you are, then.
Six Pikey Pops.
Do you want some music on? What? No, no, no.
Oh, come on.
Don't be such a boring old fart.
What've we got here? - Shakin' Stevens? - No.
- Bonnie Tyler? - No, no, no.
We don't want any music.
Just want to have silence, please.
This is my car and I can play what I bloody well want.
- Aha.
- a-ha? Oh, for heaven's sake, they're not even retro value.
That's '80s crap, that was.
No, I mean, aha, I got just the thing.
(DREADLOCK HOLIDAY BY 10CC PLAYING ON CAR STEREO) Bill, you're a bird man.
How do I get rid of thrush? It's playing havoc with my winkle.
Can I just say this is the least impressive funeral cortege I've ever witnessed.
And I completely agree.
It's not over yet, William.
It's not over yet.
That is what I'm worried about.
And we're running out of time, so we better get a move on.
Gwynne, get running, we got 10 minutes! Go, man, go! Well, the cheapest funeral is £700.
Yeah, and for that you get the basic balsa wood veneer coffin with the name hand-carved with a door key.
Yes, service, flowers, all that jazz.
Mmm.
Well, it's very popular with tramps and trailer-park trash.
Mmm.
Oh.
Oh, the top of the range.
Ah, well, now then.
Our top-of-the range funeral is what we callThe Ultimate Send-off.
It's £2,000, mind, and it is the bollocks.
You get a coffin made of mahogany, a fantastic service, smoked salmon, melon and ginger marmalade sandwiches, courtesy of Bertie's Boutique.
We lay on a spread at the Collier's Arms.
And we also provide private dancers, if requested.
Good.
Well, if that's all then, Mr Guts, my boys will be round to pick up the deceased in a few hours.
They're just attending to another funeral at the moment.
Oh, yes, yes, there are.
It's just organists and grave diggers that don't work weekends and bank holidays.
Bank holidays.
Grave diggers.
Holy bunkum.
(IVOR PANTING) What are you doing here? - I forgot it's a bank holiday.
- So? There's no bloody hole for the coffin.
What? No hole? Right.
You lot, grab a spade.
IVOR: (SHOUTING) I'll see if the vicar can be delayed for another 20 minutes.
Start digging, go on.
PERCY: Come on, Oddie.
ODDIE: Oh Dig, Oddie, dig.
- Mr Oddie, if you don't mind.
- IVOR: Yeah, Mr Oddie, please.
Thank you, Mr Oddie.
Just what I need.
ODDIE: Oh, crikey Oh.
Where's the music? Oh, bank holiday! There's no organist.
Dank! I'll have to do it.
You can't play the organ.
Arwell, there's a lot about me that you don't know.
Just watch.
No, stop! You're not supposed to carry it in head-first, it's feet-first.
Right.
(PLAYING EASTENDERS THEME ON ORGAN) Okay.
Okay, turn around.
Okay.
That's it.
Right.
Excuse me, love.
We are here today to say farewell to Janet Jones.
Our friend and secret lover.
Janet, who once thrived with life, is now as dead as Diana Dors.
Her candle has been stamped out by that naughty child we call death and she is no more.
Yes, that thief of life has picked her pocket for the very last time.
Janet Jones ain't coming home.
She no longer lives in her bungalow, but in a big brown box that is about to be buried underground with the worms.
You know, people often ask me, "Is the deceased going to a better place?" And I say "No.
" I know, it's a difficult thing to come to terms with, but I'm a man touching cloth.
And I believe that you should know the truth.
I've always thought that heaven's a ridiculous concept, as is hell.
In reality, there's sod all out there, just a void of nothing.
Right, it's time to pay your last respects.
If you want to come up and kiss the dead, you can do so, one at a time, in single file, on my command.
And please don't make a din or any fuss.
Oh, well.
Goodbye, Janet.
Goodbye.
Hang about.
This is not Janet.
Citizens on patrol.
Sod me, it's a miracle.
I think we made a very big mistake.
I know.
I obviously didn't hit her hard enough.
Right.
You're all going to die.
(ODDIE YELLING) (CACKLING) (THE GOODIES THEME PLAYING) (CAT PURRING) (ALL SCREAMING)
Mmm.
They look a bit like Dustin Hoffman, don't they? Oh, there's a lovely bunting.
Yeah, one thing you can't beat, a good bunting.
Oh, look a nice chaffinch.
Buff underparts.
- That means it's a female, doesn't it? - Absolutely.
No better way of making a female than buffing her underparts.
I wouldn't mind buffing your underparts, I can tell you.
- I can see a sweet little twite.
- (WHOOPING SOFTLY) So can I.
Bill.
How many more bird-related metaphors for my parts are you gonna cram into this afternoon? You've already boldly stated how much you would cock my ruff, how you would inspect the plumage of my pipit, handle my great tits and shag my tiny kittiwake with your big redpoll.
I thought you were a nice man, not a randy one.
Randy? Oh, Janet, I'm not randy! It's just that I want to slip your gannet a nice, big, juicy worm.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.
- You can't stop, can you? - Look, I'm only mucking about.
Oh, Janet, please.
I love you.
(SIGHING) Just wish you felt the same way about me, that's all.
I do.
It's just that I'm married to Bertie.
Bertie, Bertie, Bertie! Look, Bertie has been dead for five years! You've got to let him go! - I know but I need some more time.
- Oh.
I'm not sure how much longer I can give you.
Shall I tell you something? I hate bloody birds, I do.
I can't stand bird-watching either.
It is so boring! You know the only reason I do it is to be with you.
You make me feel like a Goodie again.
Actually, I hate birds, too.
But I do like a certain young gentleman who wears Union Jack underpants.
He does the voices for Bananaman and he has a beard.
Tim Brooke-Taylor hasn't grown a beard, has he? Oh, Janet! Oh, look Look, we've just got to face it, please.
You love me.
I love you.
And there is nothing that Bertie can do about it.
(ECHOING) And there is nothing that Bertie can do about it.
Can do about it.
(BIRD SCREECHING) (JANET SCREAMING) (JANET MOANING) Oh, no.
Oh, poor thing! Oh! Call the RSPB! You might be 64, Ivor boy, but you are still looking the bollocks.
- Iechyd da.
- Iechyd da, Da.
- Well, Arwell, good enough for the concert? - Perfect.
I hope I'm as handsome as you when I'm 60.
Sixty, you cheeky fart.
I'm 57, thank you very much.
Anyway, you won't look this good when you're my age.
It's all in the genes, by bach.
You'll end up short and bald with your tits hanging below your balls.
- But you haven't.
- No, I know I haven't.
But your mother has, and you've got her genes.
Sorry about that.
How do you know Mother's bald? You've not seen her since she left you 20 years ago for the midget.
She's a Spaniard, Arwell.
And all Spanish women end up bald by the time they're 40.
- It's a well-known fact.
- Oh.
- Iechyd da.
- Iechyd da.
So why are you all dressed up like Freddie Starr? Have you forgotten? It's the Shakin' Stevens comeback concert down the Legion tonight, man.
Oh, he's not making another comeback, is he? Does he even realise that people don't want him back after he mutilated all those horses? It wasn't Shaky, you fool, that was Equus.
His drummer.
Anyway, I want him back and so do the other 12 people down the Legion with a ticket.
- You gonna come? - Might as well, got nothing else to do.
Should be pretty good.
Mind you, we better not go too mad.
We got an early start in the morning.
You do know that there's a celebrity attending the funeral tomorrow, don't you? - No.
Who's that, then? - Bill Oddie.
- No! - No, shit! I love Bill Oddie.
He did the voices for Bananaman.
Yes, so you'd all better be on your best behaviour, it's a very important day for our business tomorrow.
And I don't want the Oddie spreading bad words about us on UK Gold.
Right you are, sir.
(TELEPHONE RINGING) Iechyd da, Thomas Yes? Okay.
Right.
Bye.
Oh, dear.
Boys, I'm afraid we've got a job.
Apparently, the priests have finished with the heron woman's body, and they want you to pick her up from the bird sanctuary now.
But what about Shakin' Stevens? He's on in half an hour, we'll miss him.
I'm sorry, Arwell, but that woman's got to be buried tomorrow.
We're leaving it a bit late as it is.
If you hurry up, you'll make the concert by the second half.
But I paid £3 to see the whole show.
I don't want to miss any of it.
By the time we've collected the body, brought it back here and upholstered it, it'll be gone midnight.
Shaky will have hung up his denim jacket by then.
Well, come to the concert after the bird sanctuary then.
Look, you can leave the body in the back of the car, and sort it out in the morning.
There's no problem.
Good idea.
Ta-da! Gwynne, I said get a teddy boy outfit.
(GIGGLING) Home, my dear.
I'm home.
(SOBBING) (MAN URINATING) Mrs Guts.
Mrs Guts, is that you? Get out my bed, you impostor.
I said get out of my bed.
(CHUCKLING) This is my bed, Mrs Guts, and my house.
You get your own, you greedy box.
Come on, hurry up.
Let's get down the Legion.
I don't wanna miss one second of Shakin' Stevens.
- Are you the undertakers? - Yes.
She's in there on the table then.
- Righto.
- Cheers.
Come on.
- There she is.
- Right.
Quick.
- Right.
- Undo the zip.
- Okay.
- Right.
- Got the whole bag? Good.
- All good.
- Right.
- Right.
- Right, get ready.
- Yeah.
- All right, come on.
One, two, three.
- One, two, three.
(GRUNTING) Oops.
(WOMAN GROANING) Oh, that's not right, is it? Well, that's just rigor mortis setting in.
Well, give her a whack.
She's wriggling like a mad worm.
I don't like it.
It's giving me the bee-gees.
Harder.
(GRUNTING) Harder.
(WOMAN GROANING) Here.
(WOMAN GROANING) Yeah.
(PERCY LAUGHING) There she blows.
Get her in.
- Billy bollocks.
- Touchdown.
Right, now, what time is it? Big hand's on the 12, little hand's on the 8.
Damn it! It's starting.
Percy, get in quick.
Midnight one more night without sleeping Watching till the morning comes creeping Green door What's that secret you're keeping Can I have a wafer with that? Eh? Well, I don't know if you poured me a beer or gave me a bloody knickerbocker glory.
Green door What's that secret you're keeping? Well, there's an old piano and they play it hot Behind the green door CROWD: # Green door Don't know what they're doing but they laugh a lot Behind the green door CROWD: # Green door What a let down.
I didn't know it wasn't the real Shakin' Stevens.
- Sorry, Arwell.
- Oh, that's all right.
Shaking Stephens with a "PH" is a decent enough impersonator.
Apparently, the real Shakin' Stevens couldn't make it tonight because of a fungal mump infection around his hairy cave.
Oh, that's a shame.
PERCY: Oh, good God, imagine waking up next to that.
Face like a bloody toolbox.
You really are a horrible man.
Hey.
Oh-ho, now stop that breast.
That's more like it.
(PERCY WHISTLING) ARWELL: You wouldn't stand a chance with someone like that.
PERCY: And why not? Well, look at her.
She got a bit of class.
She'll never go for a fanny like you.
I'm no fanny.
I've got a bit of class, too, when it comes to women, you know, and I'll prove it.
You jerky dogs think I'm some kind of dirty pervert.
Doesn't know how to treat a lady? Well, you're wrong.
Watch! Christ, I could do with some damage.
Car park, five minutes.
Cracked it.
Da, come here.
- Got a special drink for you.
- What is it? It's called gumbozine.
It gets you drunk but you won't get a hangover.
IVOR: Is it legal? In zoos, aye.
Try some.
No, no, no, I'll give it a miss.
We've got to be up at 8:00 tomorrow, remember.
See you later.
Saw an eyeball peeping through a smoky cloud Behind the green door CROWD: # Green door When I said Joe sent me someone laughed out loud Behind the green door CROWD: # Green door All I want to do is join the happy crowd I don't believe it.
He's at it already.
Come on.
(WHIMPERING) No.
My teeth.
Oh, no, my face.
That hurts.
(IVOR SINGING DRUNKENLY) Excuse me.
Hang on.
Whoa.
Hey, green door (IVOR MUMBLING) Come on, everybody, green door Green door - Oh, bugger, she liked it rough.
- Rough? Who you been shagging? Sugar Ray Leonard? - She's broken your bloody nose.
- She hasn't broken my nose.
Right.
PERCY: I got a taste for jack and danny.
Five years I've been away and I've got some catching up to do.
So, come on, ladies.
Come to papa.
(IVOR MUMBLING) (DRUNKENLY) # Take me there, green door # (SNORING) - Wake up.
- Huh? What? What happened? Where are we? I can't remember.
I think we got so drunk last night, we decided to walk home.
Didn't get very far.
Oh, my mouth is dry as an Arab's flip-flop.
I don't know what happened.
I only had four Scotches.
Oh.
Oh, my head.
I think I'm gonna chunder.
(RETCHING) Oh! Oh, my dirty dozen kippers! Look at the time.
It's 9.
45.
You were supposed to be at 10, Triffid Orchard 15 minutes ago.
Bill Oddie is gonna bloody kill us! (GRUNTING) Hang on, where's Percy? (GAGGING) (PERCY SCREAMS) What the? Bananaman! Where the hell are they? This is horrendous.
My own sister's funeral.
I'm completely appalled.
Totally disgusting and extremely upsetting.
- Oh, look, there's a jay.
- Oh, let's have a look.
Yeah, see the blue on the wings, when the light catches it.
Isn't that lovely? Do you have to keep going on about bloody birds at a time like this? I'm sorry.
I'm only trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit, aren't I? Yes, Doris, stop being such a bitch.
I am not a bitch.
ALL: Yes, you are.
(ALL CHATTERING) (CAR HONKING) Yes.
Yes.
Do you realise how long we've been waiting? Do you? Oh, I'm terribly sorry we're late, but the traffic was awful in town.
What is so funny? Oh, I'm sorry.
I just remembered that bit where that giant white cat knocked down the Post Office Tower.
Pretty good, Bill.
Comedy classic.
This is not the appropriate time nor place to discuss The Goodies, all right? Do you realise it's our 30th anniversary? I mean, you think they'd show a few repeats, wouldn't you? Right, do you think we should be going, then? What? Oh, yeah, yeah.
Sorry.
Talk to you later, okay.
We can't all fit in this.
Oh, there's another car coming.
My brother's on his way.
He'll be here in a second.
Hold on.
That says "Desmond".
Gwynne, why does that say "Desmond"? I told you to get a Janet.
They'd run out of Janets.
All they had left was Desmond, Sid or Mother.
Well, Mother would have done.
Don't be daft.
Who ever heard of someone called Mother? Not a real name.
Gwynne, I'm gonna have you spayed.
(SCOFFS) - He's not the pallbearer, is he? - Yes, why? Why? He can't lead a funeral dressed like that.
Aye, you're right.
Gwynne, pop into the house, see if you can find more appropriate dress.
Must be something you can borrow.
Be quick.
(CAR APPROACHING) Sorry, I'm late.
I've got no excuse.
I got rat-arsed last night.
Woke up cuffed to a post next to a big fat tart.
Come on, then.
Let's go.
What? In a Mini? And what's wrong with a Mini, Mr Bill "Ooh I Did The Voices For Bananaman" Oddie? Look, I'll tell you what's wrong with a Mini.
It is too small.
Well, it was designed for women, and women are small.
Not all of them.
Quite simply, there are six of us, and we are not gonna fit into a Mini.
It's not a Mini, it's a Panda.
A Fiat Panda.
I don't care what it is! It is too small! - Well, can't you take your own cars? - No, we cannot.
We ordered three cars so we could all go together.
Oh, lady, lady, please don't shout.
I got a hangover that would give a cat nightmares.
Now, listen, four of you can go in my car, and the others can walk.
No! No, no, no, I'm sorry.
We are not walking.
We have paid to be driven to the funeral! - Can't you get the bus? - The bus! Right.
- I'm gonna hit him.
- No, no, please.
Oh, please, no.
Look, it's all right.
I've got an idea.
It might just work.
Ta-da.
Gwynne, what are you doing? Get back to work.
I'm dying for some Skips.
- No, get back! - I'll be two minutes.
Where's he Where's he going? - Don't ask me.
- He can't just pop off into the shops.
Oh, for heaven's sake.
We've already waited for you lot to get changed, and now this.
Just this Uc certificated cartoon, is it, Billy? Yes, Mr Ford.
Only I saw you having a sneaky look at the blue videos up there on the top shelf.
No, I wasn't, Mr Ford.
Honest.
Yes, you were, but it's nothing to be ashamed of.
We do all like a look at a dirty, mucky video from time to time.
And the younger you start, the better.
They're educational, see.
Have this one for gratis.
- But I don't want it, sir.
- Yes, you do.
Now, you take that home, and you experiment with it and you do me some lovely charcoal drawings of the best bits.
Right.
Here, this bottle of Pikey Pops is £3.
50.
- So? - Well, the realCoke's a pound cheaper.
Well, Pikey Pops is better than Coke, and it costs more to make and advertise as well.
I've never seen an advert for Pikey Pops.
Oh, haven't you, big boy? What do you call that, then? Scotch bloody mist? - Well, I'll have six, please.
- Right you are, then.
Six Pikey Pops.
Do you want some music on? What? No, no, no.
Oh, come on.
Don't be such a boring old fart.
What've we got here? - Shakin' Stevens? - No.
- Bonnie Tyler? - No, no, no.
We don't want any music.
Just want to have silence, please.
This is my car and I can play what I bloody well want.
- Aha.
- a-ha? Oh, for heaven's sake, they're not even retro value.
That's '80s crap, that was.
No, I mean, aha, I got just the thing.
(DREADLOCK HOLIDAY BY 10CC PLAYING ON CAR STEREO) Bill, you're a bird man.
How do I get rid of thrush? It's playing havoc with my winkle.
Can I just say this is the least impressive funeral cortege I've ever witnessed.
And I completely agree.
It's not over yet, William.
It's not over yet.
That is what I'm worried about.
And we're running out of time, so we better get a move on.
Gwynne, get running, we got 10 minutes! Go, man, go! Well, the cheapest funeral is £700.
Yeah, and for that you get the basic balsa wood veneer coffin with the name hand-carved with a door key.
Yes, service, flowers, all that jazz.
Mmm.
Well, it's very popular with tramps and trailer-park trash.
Mmm.
Oh.
Oh, the top of the range.
Ah, well, now then.
Our top-of-the range funeral is what we callThe Ultimate Send-off.
It's £2,000, mind, and it is the bollocks.
You get a coffin made of mahogany, a fantastic service, smoked salmon, melon and ginger marmalade sandwiches, courtesy of Bertie's Boutique.
We lay on a spread at the Collier's Arms.
And we also provide private dancers, if requested.
Good.
Well, if that's all then, Mr Guts, my boys will be round to pick up the deceased in a few hours.
They're just attending to another funeral at the moment.
Oh, yes, yes, there are.
It's just organists and grave diggers that don't work weekends and bank holidays.
Bank holidays.
Grave diggers.
Holy bunkum.
(IVOR PANTING) What are you doing here? - I forgot it's a bank holiday.
- So? There's no bloody hole for the coffin.
What? No hole? Right.
You lot, grab a spade.
IVOR: (SHOUTING) I'll see if the vicar can be delayed for another 20 minutes.
Start digging, go on.
PERCY: Come on, Oddie.
ODDIE: Oh Dig, Oddie, dig.
- Mr Oddie, if you don't mind.
- IVOR: Yeah, Mr Oddie, please.
Thank you, Mr Oddie.
Just what I need.
ODDIE: Oh, crikey Oh.
Where's the music? Oh, bank holiday! There's no organist.
Dank! I'll have to do it.
You can't play the organ.
Arwell, there's a lot about me that you don't know.
Just watch.
No, stop! You're not supposed to carry it in head-first, it's feet-first.
Right.
(PLAYING EASTENDERS THEME ON ORGAN) Okay.
Okay, turn around.
Okay.
That's it.
Right.
Excuse me, love.
We are here today to say farewell to Janet Jones.
Our friend and secret lover.
Janet, who once thrived with life, is now as dead as Diana Dors.
Her candle has been stamped out by that naughty child we call death and she is no more.
Yes, that thief of life has picked her pocket for the very last time.
Janet Jones ain't coming home.
She no longer lives in her bungalow, but in a big brown box that is about to be buried underground with the worms.
You know, people often ask me, "Is the deceased going to a better place?" And I say "No.
" I know, it's a difficult thing to come to terms with, but I'm a man touching cloth.
And I believe that you should know the truth.
I've always thought that heaven's a ridiculous concept, as is hell.
In reality, there's sod all out there, just a void of nothing.
Right, it's time to pay your last respects.
If you want to come up and kiss the dead, you can do so, one at a time, in single file, on my command.
And please don't make a din or any fuss.
Oh, well.
Goodbye, Janet.
Goodbye.
Hang about.
This is not Janet.
Citizens on patrol.
Sod me, it's a miracle.
I think we made a very big mistake.
I know.
I obviously didn't hit her hard enough.
Right.
You're all going to die.
(ODDIE YELLING) (CACKLING) (THE GOODIES THEME PLAYING) (CAT PURRING) (ALL SCREAMING)