Monkey Dust (2003) s01e03 Episode Script
Episode 3
1 (# "That's Not Really Funny" by Eels) I'm afraid it's not good news.
The chemotherapy hasn't worked.
Your cancer's returned, and the bad news is it's in an advanced state of malignancy.
That's how it used to be done.
All wrong.
I mean, put like that, who'd want to get cancer? We need less of the glass-half-empty stuff, more of the glass-half-full.
Let's make cancer an opportunity.
Well, it might be difficult.
We've had to close the cancer ward because our budget's run out.
It's the same across the board.
Personnel, admin, legal, accounts, fund management.
They all agree we can't afford any doctors, so we're spending our last two million on you.
Good decision.
You'll find, in the long run, we pay for ourselves.
For instance, we've got a plan to reduce your radiotherapy costs to zero.
By not having any.
Instead, we'll have soothing aromatherapy with a variety of aromatic oils in attractive display cases on sale in the hospital foyer.
Could be a real money-spinner.
The word "cancer" is gonna have to go, though.
It has entirely negative connotations.
We'll reposition cancer as an attractive end-of-life option.
The heart-disease boys won't know what's hit 'em.
We've got our top man devising a new brand name for the disease right now.
(monastic singing) Release.
Good night.
Curtains.
(grunting) Closure.
Oh, yes.
- Congratulations.
You've got closure.
- Thank God for that.
Now I can spend my pension on that scuba-diving holiday I always wanted.
(# "Don't Stop Movin'" by S Club 7) - So, what do you think? - Well, yeah, it's nice.
- What, better than the blue one? - They're OK, if it's what you want.
- What look do you think I should go for? - I dunno.
I suppose it'd be good if you dressed like a full-on prostitute.
- How do you mean? - You know, like a whore.
- Like a short skirt, Lycra, plenty of tit? - You know, like you're selling it.
- Do you know, I have never thought of that.
- It'd make my friends jealous.
Yeah, it would, wouldn't it? That is what I love about you.
I've been out with guys before and none of them would ever have thought of that.
You're so original.
I am such a lucky girl.
(dance music) Ministry of Sound at 3am in the morning is just one loving organism.
No men, no women.
Just cyberstuds and cyberbitches.
I reckon the club scene in London's dead, but Moscow's picking up.
I lost it at Cream the other night.
I just said, "This is so boring.
" "You're all so '98.
" And Ralf Little agreed with me.
I'll tell you this.
Instead of debating in parliament, they should dance.
The rhythm don't lie.
I make love on E.
I fuck on cocaine.
(# "Lovely Head" by Goldfrapp) (Tony Blair) Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
(sirens) (dog barks) (car alarms) (music blares from window) (# "Lovely Head" continues) (woman) Clive, it's Sunday night.
You went out for a packet of cigarettes on Saturday morning.
- Where have you been all weekend? - Oh, it was an awful thing.
I saw a horrific accident.
I still can't get over it.
You know the really high wall by John Lewis's? There's this big guy up there sitting on it.
Must have been working on it or something.
As I'm walking past he falls right next to me.
I mean, I could hear the crack.
It was awful.
So I dialled 999, asked for an ambulance.
Two hours later, still no sign.
Typical bloody NHS.
I mean, I was fuming.
I said, "It's not good enough.
I want to speak to the top man, the absolute top guy.
" And, to their credit, they did actually put me through to the king.
And he sent all his horses, all his men.
But they couldn't do anything.
He died.
Right in front of me.
And that, darling, is what really happened.
I think we both know where you got that one from, Clive.
What have you really been doing this weekend? I've been the anal gimp of a German businessman.
Joe.
Now, this is very important.
Mummy and Daddy have decided they don't want to live together any more.
Daddy's going to live with Auntie Emma.
But whatever happens, Mummy and Daddy want you to know something.
It's all your fault.
There you are, my lovely.
Six ripe apples from the Westminster orchard.
- Why, thank you.
- Oh, my gosh.
Total disaster.
God.
Dinner party tonight.
Completely out of aubergines.
- You must be English.
- Oh, g-gosh, yes.
How perceptive of you.
- God, what a wonderful market.
- Oh, gosh, thanks.
Just normal, really.
Bit of fruit, veg, antiques.
- Old Reg here has had his pitch since 1934.
- That I 'ave, young sir.
Old Norm here's had his pitch since 1934.
There you go, me hearties.
Six ripe aubergines from the Soho dales.
You must come and see my apartment.
It's on the corner of Main and Notting.
Wow.
A real English apartment? I'd love to.
(Indian accent) Excuse me.
Do you sell ghee? How did you get in here? You British have such changeable weather.
Oh, gosh.
Wow, really? Do you think so? I'm afraid my place is a bit pokey, just a place to crash, really, you know.
Wow.
This place is gorgeous.
Oh, gosh.
I suppose I'm lucky to have the old place, especially as I've no visible means of support.
Just my good fortune that the Bakayokos moved back to Nigeria when they did.
It's such a beautiful day.
How's about we go for a drive in your prewar Bentley? Oh, wow.
But we can't go outside the compound.
Why ever not? It's where they keep the immigrants and poor people.
That sounds terrible.
Isn't there something we can do? Yes, there is.
Once every two years we have a special day when we put on highly amusing pants and encourage people to give money.
Or if you really want to help, you could spend 24 hours lying in a bath of baked beans.
- Anyway, will you marry me? - Yes.
(loud kissing noises) - Oh.
I do love you.
- (zip) What about Bridget Jones? Hm.
Chocolat? That's supposed to be good.
- Uh, I dunno.
- Well, what do you want to watch? I don't know.
I was thinking maybe of some hardcore porn.
How do you mean? Well, you know, group sex, anal, triple penetration, few lezzas.
You mean women taking it every which way? Yeah.
Yeah.
Oh, you are so full of good ideas.
I would never have thought of that.
I am such a lucky girl.
OK.
You join us in Walsall where my friend here, Ray Woodward, is hoping to raise £20,000 by breaking the world record for lying in a bath of baked beans.
How's it going, my man? Well, great, Mikey.
20 minutes so far and I feel OK, mate.
(Mikey) More beans! More beans! All we ever do is stay out and watch TV.
Why don't we have people over for dinner? That kebab you found tonight was delicious.
There's a big difference, foraging for two and foraging for eight.
(man) Welcome to day 365 of the Daisy Harris murder inquiry.
One year on, my officers and I remain upbeat and confident and I'd like to commend the professionalism of all my officers in their search for positive progress towards the upbeat and confident outcome of this progress.
Today I can announce a major development.
This morning we opened a brand-new, state-of-the-art incident room with internet access and full on-site tea and coffee-making facilities.
I'm sure you all know Daisy's stepfather, Dr Harris.
Er, yes, thank you, thank you, Chief Chief Inspector.
When I think of the delicate white stem of Daisy's throat so vulnerable, and those beautiful, bulging eyes, I ask myself, "Why did I not stop him in time?" I'd like to thank Dr Harris for those moving words.
And introduce to you Dr Kent Berkmann from the University of Doncaster, Missouri.
Dr Berkmann is a psychological profiler of the kind popularised by Miss Jodie Foster and that other girl.
Thank you, Inspector.
Having studied the victimology here, I can confirm that in the majority of such cases - that's 87.
4 percentiles - the perpetrator is inclined to be a family member, usually male, often in late middle age.
Perhaps a stepfather.
Profession, very often one of the caring services.
Perhaps in childcare.
A doctor or a headmaster.
Quite possibly a bearded man in a tweed suit with a red and blue stripy tie.
Thank you, Dr Berkmann, for that most interesting analysation.
And one of my officers will be taking Dr Berkmann's report home to look at on Sunday.
I must stress, however, that the main focus of our investigation remains the search for a man with evil, staring eyes.
Sue Judd, Express.
Does this mean that you have positive ID? Well, there is no positive ID as such.
But it is our belief that it stands to reason that the killer is a man with evil, staring eyes.
Although I am prepared to extend the scope of the inquiry to include men with eyes that seem to look right through you.
And you can continue viewing that press conference on BBC Press Conference 24.
Our main headline again.
Mass murderer Kenneth Day is still at large after his escape from Roehampton hospital.
A prison officer and a nurse were killed during the escape.
Now the weather.
Here's Michael.
Well, I think we can safely say that Kenneth Day will be behind bars tonight.
But they won't be iron bars, they'll be isobars, as this weather system moves in from the Irish Sea.
So get those brollies out.
(chuckles) (disappointed sigh) Mobile to mobile, man to man.
The whole world's gone homo-textual.
Ring tones are the piercings of the new millennium.
I've had my labia bar-coded.
(clock ticking) Timmy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Look what Roger bought me! Oh, that's that's wonderful.
- Oh, what was that? - Oh, it was nothing.
Come in, come in.
Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Roger's got a job in America and he's says me and Mummy can go with him to live there.
Yes, I-I know.
Mummy told me on the phone.
And guess what, Daddy? America is where Scooby-Doo lives.
- You know, America's a long way away, Timmy.
- Dad, I know, but listen - You won't be able to come and see me.
- And one had a dinosaur with flashing eyes.
- Timmy, Daddy wants to tell you something.
- Only it was a man in it.
- I know, Timmy, but when I was your age - Dad .
.
my daddy died.
I didn't have a daddy.
- I know, but listen.
- You understand? Yes.
And there was one with a giant shark and it was a ghost.
- So when you were born I made a vow.
- I know, but look! - Do you know what a vow is? - It had a man in it who lived on the island.
- I vowed that I would never leave you.
- I know, but listen So, although Mummy left me, I'll always be in your heart.
(whispers) Wherever you are.
Scooby-Doo can eat ten Scooby Snacks.
Well, that's really great.
Now you just wait here for a second.
(# "Deer Stop" by Goldfrapp) (retching) (thud) Daddy? Mummy says we're not going to America.
Cos then you wouldn't see me.
Daddy? Do your funny Scooby-Doo voice.
Daddy? Exactly, and I think the best thing about it is it's so chunky.
Yeah, that's exactly why we like it.
It feels so substantial when you turn the light on and off.
- Of course, the stainless steel is wonderful.
- (woman) Lovely.
- Can I ask, where did you get it? Heal's? - Oh, God, no, no.
Specialist place.
We considered stainless steel power points, but we thought that would be too industrial.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, everyone, but isn't all this just bollocks? I mean, we've been talking about that light switch for an hour now and it's just bollocks.
- How do you mean? - Well, it's just a light switch.
It turns the light on and off.
It doesn't matter.
- I see.
So what should be do instead then? - Well, I don't know.
But don't you ever feel all this toss is just sucking your life away? I mean, why can't we do something that heightens life? - Something exciting? - Oh, yes? Such as? I don't know.
Well, have a game of Russian roulette? Um - Your father's old service revolver's upstairs.
- Yeah, I think I could rustle up a bullet.
- Why don't we give it a whirl? - Yeah.
I'm game.
(gunshot) Well, that was a lot of fun.
(# "The End" by the Doors) It's a nice-looking handle on this revolver, Simon.
What is it? Is it a hard wood? I'm not sure.
We considered putting it over the fireplace.
Jane said it was too militaristic.
Mind you, she's dead now.
It could be sycamore.
The cyber scene is so fractured at the moment.
You've got web spinners, net jockeys, backloaders, emails, she-males, disc suckers, jock dickeys, ragamuff-divers and slam-dunk funkateers.
I tell you this, in many ways the Velvet Underground were the first interactive website.
Paint and click.
They weren't songs, they were downloads.
I've started a website where I describe my period pains.
It's called evespunishment.
com.
The PC is the mother, the mouse is the tampon.
A bumper chicken bucket, please.
And hold the hypocrisy.
Ah.
You must be the volunteer.
Beasley, sir.
King's Own Volunteers.
- Ready to do my bit for queen and country.
- Excellent, Beasley.
Her Majesty sends her profound gratitude to you, and her condolences to your family.
Thank you.
As soon as I heard there was extra porridge ration in it, I was first on the list, sir.
Very good.
The test is quite simple, Beasley.
We'd like you to go into the vacuum chamber.
We'll pump out all the air and pump in a particularly virulent strain of the Ebola virus.
- Is that like a bowl of porridge, sir? - Not quite, no.
I can't wait to get started.
It's the hanging around that kills me.
We'll see about that, Beasley.
I always say, if your number's up, sir, your number's up.
- Yes.
What is your number, Beasley? - It's 27, sir.
(bell rings) Ah.
Excellent.
In years to come, Beasley, you will not be forgotten.
Men will raise a glass and celebrate the memory of batch 24 to 31.
- Now, here's your shilling.
- It's lovely and shiny, sir.
- Pop in the chamber, there's a good chap.
- Righto, sir.
(scientist) And here we go.
(machine whirrs) (sings "God save the Queen", muffled) Doing anything this weekend? I was thinking of slotting in 18 holes on Saturday.
You must come over one weekend, see the new garden.
Number 27's done, sir.
Same as all the others, sir.
27.
Hm.
- Would you call that a pattern yet? - Hm.
I still think it's more of a trend.
(woman) The Ebola virus.
It looks simple enough, but in sufficient numbers, the virus present on the head of a pin would be enough to kill the population of a small town.
In the right conditions, over a 24-hour period, a single Ebola virus can replicate itself over two million times.
And, of course, no surprise to see England manager Sven-Goran Eriksson in the crowd.
(as voice-over) The actors in that were rubbish.
None of them appeared to be classically trained.
- Come on, darling, let's go to bed.
- It's a bit early for sleep, Penny.
Who said anything about sleep? (giggles) (Penny, panting) Oh, God, Guy! Oh, yeah! Like that, yeah! - (emotionless voice-over) This is amazing.
- Harder, Guy.
Do it to me harder.
Oh, yes.
It's like my balls are on fire.
Just spear me, Guy! Split me in two! - Is this hard enough for you, you sexy bitch? - Oh, God! I'm coming! (orgasms noisily) Now I'm coming too.
Oh, yes.
Oh, yes.
Oh, yes.
Jesus Christ.
That was the best sex I've ever had.
(# "Distractions" by Zero 7) Consignia! Ready for the outside world, Ivan? I don't want to leave Crowmarsh, Daddy.
Now, we have talked about this, Ivan.
I am not your daddy.
I am a senior prison officer.
- I can pay the rent.
- There's no rent, Ivan.
You were allowed to stay for 27 years because we thought you was the Meatsafe Murderer.
- But the DNA tests have proved you innocent.
- Well, do them again.
Now, one or two items I have to give you.
- Your compensation of £120,000.
- No, I don't want it! One Magpie annual, 1972.
One triangular tin-opener.
Obsolete.
One Sky Ray lolly.
Melted.
One suit.
Unfashionable.
- But I'll be all on me own.
- On your own, Ivan? Why, haven't you forgotten somebody? (chuckling) Yes.
- Ta-da! - Mr Hoppy! (# "Come" by Eddie Warner) Hello, I'm Ivan Dobsky.
I'm the Meatsafe Murderer.
Only, I never done it.
I only said that I did cos they promised they'd give us back me fingernails.
I've got £120,000.
I'd like a dream holiday for one, please.
- Flying BOAC to Ceylon.
- Where's Ceylon? Please could I have a packet of Bazooka Joe bubble gum, three Amazin' Raisin bars, a Lord Toffingham lolly and a can of Whiteway's Cydrax? Mm.
Nah.
I'd like the best front-row tickets at Wembley Stadium to see Mud.
(all laugh) Yeah, funny.
(# "Little Willy" by Sweet) Hello.
I'm Stuart Maconie and I love 1973.
Hello.
I'm Ivan Dobsky.
I'm the Meatsafe Murderer.
Only someone called Channel 4 has proved that I never done it.
Which wasn't very nice.
The meatsafe murders? They were great.
I remember you.
You were the most hated man in Britain, and you didn't do it.
- Can I live with you? - Of course.
Come in.
I was about to open a Party Seven.
Although it's tricky without those triangular tin openers.
- I've got one.
- Wow! And then they sent us to Crowmarsh and Mr Jennings looked after me.
I was happy there.
Well, Ivan, they're not likely to let you back in.
Not unless you do something really terrible.
You bastard.
He was our foremost media commentator on the social history of three decades ago.
(scream) (Ivan) Home! Serial killers are just rock stars who haven't learnt to play the guitar.
Dr Lecter, Dr Hook.
Change the medical record.
The '90s are to the '80s what the '70s were to the '60s.
Hip-hop is the new soft rock.
Let's hear it for the Chemical Brothers In Arms.
True art comes from the gutter.
I call it enterdrainment.
But, Mum, I live here.
(# "That's Not Really Funny" by Eels)
The chemotherapy hasn't worked.
Your cancer's returned, and the bad news is it's in an advanced state of malignancy.
That's how it used to be done.
All wrong.
I mean, put like that, who'd want to get cancer? We need less of the glass-half-empty stuff, more of the glass-half-full.
Let's make cancer an opportunity.
Well, it might be difficult.
We've had to close the cancer ward because our budget's run out.
It's the same across the board.
Personnel, admin, legal, accounts, fund management.
They all agree we can't afford any doctors, so we're spending our last two million on you.
Good decision.
You'll find, in the long run, we pay for ourselves.
For instance, we've got a plan to reduce your radiotherapy costs to zero.
By not having any.
Instead, we'll have soothing aromatherapy with a variety of aromatic oils in attractive display cases on sale in the hospital foyer.
Could be a real money-spinner.
The word "cancer" is gonna have to go, though.
It has entirely negative connotations.
We'll reposition cancer as an attractive end-of-life option.
The heart-disease boys won't know what's hit 'em.
We've got our top man devising a new brand name for the disease right now.
(monastic singing) Release.
Good night.
Curtains.
(grunting) Closure.
Oh, yes.
- Congratulations.
You've got closure.
- Thank God for that.
Now I can spend my pension on that scuba-diving holiday I always wanted.
(# "Don't Stop Movin'" by S Club 7) - So, what do you think? - Well, yeah, it's nice.
- What, better than the blue one? - They're OK, if it's what you want.
- What look do you think I should go for? - I dunno.
I suppose it'd be good if you dressed like a full-on prostitute.
- How do you mean? - You know, like a whore.
- Like a short skirt, Lycra, plenty of tit? - You know, like you're selling it.
- Do you know, I have never thought of that.
- It'd make my friends jealous.
Yeah, it would, wouldn't it? That is what I love about you.
I've been out with guys before and none of them would ever have thought of that.
You're so original.
I am such a lucky girl.
(dance music) Ministry of Sound at 3am in the morning is just one loving organism.
No men, no women.
Just cyberstuds and cyberbitches.
I reckon the club scene in London's dead, but Moscow's picking up.
I lost it at Cream the other night.
I just said, "This is so boring.
" "You're all so '98.
" And Ralf Little agreed with me.
I'll tell you this.
Instead of debating in parliament, they should dance.
The rhythm don't lie.
I make love on E.
I fuck on cocaine.
(# "Lovely Head" by Goldfrapp) (Tony Blair) Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
Education.
(sirens) (dog barks) (car alarms) (music blares from window) (# "Lovely Head" continues) (woman) Clive, it's Sunday night.
You went out for a packet of cigarettes on Saturday morning.
- Where have you been all weekend? - Oh, it was an awful thing.
I saw a horrific accident.
I still can't get over it.
You know the really high wall by John Lewis's? There's this big guy up there sitting on it.
Must have been working on it or something.
As I'm walking past he falls right next to me.
I mean, I could hear the crack.
It was awful.
So I dialled 999, asked for an ambulance.
Two hours later, still no sign.
Typical bloody NHS.
I mean, I was fuming.
I said, "It's not good enough.
I want to speak to the top man, the absolute top guy.
" And, to their credit, they did actually put me through to the king.
And he sent all his horses, all his men.
But they couldn't do anything.
He died.
Right in front of me.
And that, darling, is what really happened.
I think we both know where you got that one from, Clive.
What have you really been doing this weekend? I've been the anal gimp of a German businessman.
Joe.
Now, this is very important.
Mummy and Daddy have decided they don't want to live together any more.
Daddy's going to live with Auntie Emma.
But whatever happens, Mummy and Daddy want you to know something.
It's all your fault.
There you are, my lovely.
Six ripe apples from the Westminster orchard.
- Why, thank you.
- Oh, my gosh.
Total disaster.
God.
Dinner party tonight.
Completely out of aubergines.
- You must be English.
- Oh, g-gosh, yes.
How perceptive of you.
- God, what a wonderful market.
- Oh, gosh, thanks.
Just normal, really.
Bit of fruit, veg, antiques.
- Old Reg here has had his pitch since 1934.
- That I 'ave, young sir.
Old Norm here's had his pitch since 1934.
There you go, me hearties.
Six ripe aubergines from the Soho dales.
You must come and see my apartment.
It's on the corner of Main and Notting.
Wow.
A real English apartment? I'd love to.
(Indian accent) Excuse me.
Do you sell ghee? How did you get in here? You British have such changeable weather.
Oh, gosh.
Wow, really? Do you think so? I'm afraid my place is a bit pokey, just a place to crash, really, you know.
Wow.
This place is gorgeous.
Oh, gosh.
I suppose I'm lucky to have the old place, especially as I've no visible means of support.
Just my good fortune that the Bakayokos moved back to Nigeria when they did.
It's such a beautiful day.
How's about we go for a drive in your prewar Bentley? Oh, wow.
But we can't go outside the compound.
Why ever not? It's where they keep the immigrants and poor people.
That sounds terrible.
Isn't there something we can do? Yes, there is.
Once every two years we have a special day when we put on highly amusing pants and encourage people to give money.
Or if you really want to help, you could spend 24 hours lying in a bath of baked beans.
- Anyway, will you marry me? - Yes.
(loud kissing noises) - Oh.
I do love you.
- (zip) What about Bridget Jones? Hm.
Chocolat? That's supposed to be good.
- Uh, I dunno.
- Well, what do you want to watch? I don't know.
I was thinking maybe of some hardcore porn.
How do you mean? Well, you know, group sex, anal, triple penetration, few lezzas.
You mean women taking it every which way? Yeah.
Yeah.
Oh, you are so full of good ideas.
I would never have thought of that.
I am such a lucky girl.
OK.
You join us in Walsall where my friend here, Ray Woodward, is hoping to raise £20,000 by breaking the world record for lying in a bath of baked beans.
How's it going, my man? Well, great, Mikey.
20 minutes so far and I feel OK, mate.
(Mikey) More beans! More beans! All we ever do is stay out and watch TV.
Why don't we have people over for dinner? That kebab you found tonight was delicious.
There's a big difference, foraging for two and foraging for eight.
(man) Welcome to day 365 of the Daisy Harris murder inquiry.
One year on, my officers and I remain upbeat and confident and I'd like to commend the professionalism of all my officers in their search for positive progress towards the upbeat and confident outcome of this progress.
Today I can announce a major development.
This morning we opened a brand-new, state-of-the-art incident room with internet access and full on-site tea and coffee-making facilities.
I'm sure you all know Daisy's stepfather, Dr Harris.
Er, yes, thank you, thank you, Chief Chief Inspector.
When I think of the delicate white stem of Daisy's throat so vulnerable, and those beautiful, bulging eyes, I ask myself, "Why did I not stop him in time?" I'd like to thank Dr Harris for those moving words.
And introduce to you Dr Kent Berkmann from the University of Doncaster, Missouri.
Dr Berkmann is a psychological profiler of the kind popularised by Miss Jodie Foster and that other girl.
Thank you, Inspector.
Having studied the victimology here, I can confirm that in the majority of such cases - that's 87.
4 percentiles - the perpetrator is inclined to be a family member, usually male, often in late middle age.
Perhaps a stepfather.
Profession, very often one of the caring services.
Perhaps in childcare.
A doctor or a headmaster.
Quite possibly a bearded man in a tweed suit with a red and blue stripy tie.
Thank you, Dr Berkmann, for that most interesting analysation.
And one of my officers will be taking Dr Berkmann's report home to look at on Sunday.
I must stress, however, that the main focus of our investigation remains the search for a man with evil, staring eyes.
Sue Judd, Express.
Does this mean that you have positive ID? Well, there is no positive ID as such.
But it is our belief that it stands to reason that the killer is a man with evil, staring eyes.
Although I am prepared to extend the scope of the inquiry to include men with eyes that seem to look right through you.
And you can continue viewing that press conference on BBC Press Conference 24.
Our main headline again.
Mass murderer Kenneth Day is still at large after his escape from Roehampton hospital.
A prison officer and a nurse were killed during the escape.
Now the weather.
Here's Michael.
Well, I think we can safely say that Kenneth Day will be behind bars tonight.
But they won't be iron bars, they'll be isobars, as this weather system moves in from the Irish Sea.
So get those brollies out.
(chuckles) (disappointed sigh) Mobile to mobile, man to man.
The whole world's gone homo-textual.
Ring tones are the piercings of the new millennium.
I've had my labia bar-coded.
(clock ticking) Timmy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Look what Roger bought me! Oh, that's that's wonderful.
- Oh, what was that? - Oh, it was nothing.
Come in, come in.
Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Roger's got a job in America and he's says me and Mummy can go with him to live there.
Yes, I-I know.
Mummy told me on the phone.
And guess what, Daddy? America is where Scooby-Doo lives.
- You know, America's a long way away, Timmy.
- Dad, I know, but listen - You won't be able to come and see me.
- And one had a dinosaur with flashing eyes.
- Timmy, Daddy wants to tell you something.
- Only it was a man in it.
- I know, Timmy, but when I was your age - Dad .
.
my daddy died.
I didn't have a daddy.
- I know, but listen.
- You understand? Yes.
And there was one with a giant shark and it was a ghost.
- So when you were born I made a vow.
- I know, but look! - Do you know what a vow is? - It had a man in it who lived on the island.
- I vowed that I would never leave you.
- I know, but listen So, although Mummy left me, I'll always be in your heart.
(whispers) Wherever you are.
Scooby-Doo can eat ten Scooby Snacks.
Well, that's really great.
Now you just wait here for a second.
(# "Deer Stop" by Goldfrapp) (retching) (thud) Daddy? Mummy says we're not going to America.
Cos then you wouldn't see me.
Daddy? Do your funny Scooby-Doo voice.
Daddy? Exactly, and I think the best thing about it is it's so chunky.
Yeah, that's exactly why we like it.
It feels so substantial when you turn the light on and off.
- Of course, the stainless steel is wonderful.
- (woman) Lovely.
- Can I ask, where did you get it? Heal's? - Oh, God, no, no.
Specialist place.
We considered stainless steel power points, but we thought that would be too industrial.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, everyone, but isn't all this just bollocks? I mean, we've been talking about that light switch for an hour now and it's just bollocks.
- How do you mean? - Well, it's just a light switch.
It turns the light on and off.
It doesn't matter.
- I see.
So what should be do instead then? - Well, I don't know.
But don't you ever feel all this toss is just sucking your life away? I mean, why can't we do something that heightens life? - Something exciting? - Oh, yes? Such as? I don't know.
Well, have a game of Russian roulette? Um - Your father's old service revolver's upstairs.
- Yeah, I think I could rustle up a bullet.
- Why don't we give it a whirl? - Yeah.
I'm game.
(gunshot) Well, that was a lot of fun.
(# "The End" by the Doors) It's a nice-looking handle on this revolver, Simon.
What is it? Is it a hard wood? I'm not sure.
We considered putting it over the fireplace.
Jane said it was too militaristic.
Mind you, she's dead now.
It could be sycamore.
The cyber scene is so fractured at the moment.
You've got web spinners, net jockeys, backloaders, emails, she-males, disc suckers, jock dickeys, ragamuff-divers and slam-dunk funkateers.
I tell you this, in many ways the Velvet Underground were the first interactive website.
Paint and click.
They weren't songs, they were downloads.
I've started a website where I describe my period pains.
It's called evespunishment.
com.
The PC is the mother, the mouse is the tampon.
A bumper chicken bucket, please.
And hold the hypocrisy.
Ah.
You must be the volunteer.
Beasley, sir.
King's Own Volunteers.
- Ready to do my bit for queen and country.
- Excellent, Beasley.
Her Majesty sends her profound gratitude to you, and her condolences to your family.
Thank you.
As soon as I heard there was extra porridge ration in it, I was first on the list, sir.
Very good.
The test is quite simple, Beasley.
We'd like you to go into the vacuum chamber.
We'll pump out all the air and pump in a particularly virulent strain of the Ebola virus.
- Is that like a bowl of porridge, sir? - Not quite, no.
I can't wait to get started.
It's the hanging around that kills me.
We'll see about that, Beasley.
I always say, if your number's up, sir, your number's up.
- Yes.
What is your number, Beasley? - It's 27, sir.
(bell rings) Ah.
Excellent.
In years to come, Beasley, you will not be forgotten.
Men will raise a glass and celebrate the memory of batch 24 to 31.
- Now, here's your shilling.
- It's lovely and shiny, sir.
- Pop in the chamber, there's a good chap.
- Righto, sir.
(scientist) And here we go.
(machine whirrs) (sings "God save the Queen", muffled) Doing anything this weekend? I was thinking of slotting in 18 holes on Saturday.
You must come over one weekend, see the new garden.
Number 27's done, sir.
Same as all the others, sir.
27.
Hm.
- Would you call that a pattern yet? - Hm.
I still think it's more of a trend.
(woman) The Ebola virus.
It looks simple enough, but in sufficient numbers, the virus present on the head of a pin would be enough to kill the population of a small town.
In the right conditions, over a 24-hour period, a single Ebola virus can replicate itself over two million times.
And, of course, no surprise to see England manager Sven-Goran Eriksson in the crowd.
(as voice-over) The actors in that were rubbish.
None of them appeared to be classically trained.
- Come on, darling, let's go to bed.
- It's a bit early for sleep, Penny.
Who said anything about sleep? (giggles) (Penny, panting) Oh, God, Guy! Oh, yeah! Like that, yeah! - (emotionless voice-over) This is amazing.
- Harder, Guy.
Do it to me harder.
Oh, yes.
It's like my balls are on fire.
Just spear me, Guy! Split me in two! - Is this hard enough for you, you sexy bitch? - Oh, God! I'm coming! (orgasms noisily) Now I'm coming too.
Oh, yes.
Oh, yes.
Oh, yes.
Jesus Christ.
That was the best sex I've ever had.
(# "Distractions" by Zero 7) Consignia! Ready for the outside world, Ivan? I don't want to leave Crowmarsh, Daddy.
Now, we have talked about this, Ivan.
I am not your daddy.
I am a senior prison officer.
- I can pay the rent.
- There's no rent, Ivan.
You were allowed to stay for 27 years because we thought you was the Meatsafe Murderer.
- But the DNA tests have proved you innocent.
- Well, do them again.
Now, one or two items I have to give you.
- Your compensation of £120,000.
- No, I don't want it! One Magpie annual, 1972.
One triangular tin-opener.
Obsolete.
One Sky Ray lolly.
Melted.
One suit.
Unfashionable.
- But I'll be all on me own.
- On your own, Ivan? Why, haven't you forgotten somebody? (chuckling) Yes.
- Ta-da! - Mr Hoppy! (# "Come" by Eddie Warner) Hello, I'm Ivan Dobsky.
I'm the Meatsafe Murderer.
Only, I never done it.
I only said that I did cos they promised they'd give us back me fingernails.
I've got £120,000.
I'd like a dream holiday for one, please.
- Flying BOAC to Ceylon.
- Where's Ceylon? Please could I have a packet of Bazooka Joe bubble gum, three Amazin' Raisin bars, a Lord Toffingham lolly and a can of Whiteway's Cydrax? Mm.
Nah.
I'd like the best front-row tickets at Wembley Stadium to see Mud.
(all laugh) Yeah, funny.
(# "Little Willy" by Sweet) Hello.
I'm Stuart Maconie and I love 1973.
Hello.
I'm Ivan Dobsky.
I'm the Meatsafe Murderer.
Only someone called Channel 4 has proved that I never done it.
Which wasn't very nice.
The meatsafe murders? They were great.
I remember you.
You were the most hated man in Britain, and you didn't do it.
- Can I live with you? - Of course.
Come in.
I was about to open a Party Seven.
Although it's tricky without those triangular tin openers.
- I've got one.
- Wow! And then they sent us to Crowmarsh and Mr Jennings looked after me.
I was happy there.
Well, Ivan, they're not likely to let you back in.
Not unless you do something really terrible.
You bastard.
He was our foremost media commentator on the social history of three decades ago.
(scream) (Ivan) Home! Serial killers are just rock stars who haven't learnt to play the guitar.
Dr Lecter, Dr Hook.
Change the medical record.
The '90s are to the '80s what the '70s were to the '60s.
Hip-hop is the new soft rock.
Let's hear it for the Chemical Brothers In Arms.
True art comes from the gutter.
I call it enterdrainment.
But, Mum, I live here.
(# "That's Not Really Funny" by Eels)