Fun at the Funeral Parlour (2001) s01e06 Episode Script
Dead Aid
1 Hello, ladies.
Fancy a breaststroke? Do you know who I am? I'm Shaking Stephens, the world's finest Shakin' Stevens impersonator.
Look what locker I got.
I always get locker 007 when I do go swimming.
And afterwards when I do go for a Slush Puppie, I ask for it shaken, not stirred.
Do you think I'm cool, girls? Yeah, really cool.
If you think you're so cool, why don't you have a go on the chute? It's the biggest one in Swansea.
SHAKING: No.
It's not my scene.
Go on, have a go.
I dare you.
Unless you're too scared.
Go on then, I'll do it.
(SINGING GREEN DOOR) (WHIMPERING) (SCREAMING) (PANTING) Oh, stop it! I can't take this anymore.
- What is it? - The bloody noise.
We're not saying anything.
I know that.
But your actions are speaking louder than words.
What with your scraping, his chewing and Dad's top dashing teeth.
It's driving me Miss Daisy, man.
Well, if you don't like the noise, - go and eat your food somewhere else.
- All right, I will.
Oh, he's a fussy sod, eh? Pass the butter, Arwell, please.
What's that? - It's a hair.
- I know that.
But of what origin? It looks coarse to me.
I don't think it's seen much daylight.
I think you're right.
It can only mean one thing.
Percy! Have you been watching Last Tango in Paris again? No, I haven't.
Liar! Next time, I'll buy a tub of margarine.
That will stop his game.
Did you hear about the Bennetts? What about them? Well, according to Ernie down at the morgue, this huge chain of American funeral directors offered them one million dollars in exchange for their business.
- Never! - Honest.
You'll never guess what.
They turned them down.
Good job, too.
I don't fancy competing with Yankee doodle dandies.
Anyway, why the Bennetts and not me? Aren't we a good enough business to take over or something? Probably not.
What do you care? You wouldn't sell this business no matter how much money was offered, would you? No, I'd never sell out to a John Wayne, Happy Days-loving, Lucky Strikes-smoking, Disney, burger-chomping, Chevy 4X4, American, Junior the third.
That's what I thought.
(PHONE RINGING) Oh, get that, Arwell.
I can't be bothered.
Hello! Thomas and Thomas and Thomas and Thomas funeral directors here.
How can I help you? Yes, I see.
Water chute? Shaking Stephens? A skip.
We'll be down as soon as we can.
Thank you, Mr Hunt.
Yes.
Bye-bye.
- Well? - Shaking Stephens is no longer shaking.
He fell out of a water chute into a skip this afternoon.
- Right.
Who are we dealing with here? - A chap called Hunt.
Isaac Hunt.
He's arranging the funeral.
Oh, you stupid soreness! It's a bogus, man.
A bloody big bogus.
It's a joke name.
What do you mean? Isaac Hunt.
Mike Hunt.
Gareth Hunt.
Joke names.
- You're joking.
- No, I'm not joking.
Isaac is.
- Oh, no.
He isn't.
- Huh? Isaac Hunt.
Happens to be the most powerful and influential music agent in Wales.
Whoever he is, he's at the scene now and he wants us there pronto, so - Come on, everyone.
Let's go.
- Hang on.
Hang on.
Hang on.
I got a cherry strudel in the oven for afters.
I only hope I don't find any hairs in that.
Marlon Brando never put a cherry strudel up his arse.
Oh, I don't know.
I wouldn't put anything past him.
Apparently, he got a copy of Beyond the Poseidon Adventure stuck up there once.
Best place for it, if you ask me.
- This is great.
- What do you mean? I've always wanted to be in show business.
If I could impress Mr Hunt, he could give me a job.
Since when have you wanted to be in show business? Oh, come on.
You know about my desire to be a rock god.
Why do you think I went to prison? You went to prison because you dressed up all our corpses as Roy Orbisons and tried to take them on tour.
Yes.
The Chapel Arrest Tour, 1994.
What a great success it would have been as well.
If only the police hadn't turned up before the duet with Jackie Wilson.
Reet Petite.
Mmm.
MAN: Ivor Thomas.
Can we have a word? What? Listen, it's me.
Tell Bassey that the morrow is off.
Shaking Stephens has perished in a bizarre chute mishap.
(IMITATING BUZZER) Don't grovel.
I hate grovellers.
Don't apologise either.
I hate apologies.
Apologies are for the weak.
Ah, get out of town.
You're fired.
Hello, Mum.
Tomorrow, better make it bread and butter pudding times five, I got guests.
It's okay.
Oh, and can you set the video for that Peter Purves commercial? You know, the one about the over 50s.
I love it.
Okay.
Bye.
Isaac Hunt.
- You must be the undertakers.
Good.
- Where is the deceased? - He's in the skip.
- Is he in a bad way? Well, his body's not too bad but his goggles are buggered.
Took a bit of a fall.
Right.
Now.
- Let's get down to business.
- Show business? (IMITATES BUZZER) Funeral business.
Now, Shaking Stephens left no next-of-kin so that leaves me in Well, I say that, he has got a son but he's jerking seals in Alaska.
- So that leaves me in a Well, I say that - Hello.
He has got two parents, but they are going round and round and round the Isle of Wight on a cruise ship.
Anyway, he was one of my best buddies, so I want to give him a proper send-off.
Now you may be aware Shaky had a lot of big pals in the business.
- Show business.
- Will you stop that? - Sorry.
- Oranges.
Right.
Now, listen.
I need you to find me a church with fine acoustics.
A stage.
Good seating facilities.
And ample car-parking space.
Can you do that for me? Well, I don't think (IMITATES BUZZER) Wrong answer.
You can do it.
There is nothing you cannot do for me.
I am the leader.
Mr Hunt, why do you want all these things? Well, I wanna give Shaky a good send-off concert at the service.
I've already booked his favourite band to play live.
I just need you to set it up for me.
I'll print the posters and arrange the advertising.
That's no problem.
As for tickets, we'll knock them out at what, £10 a throw, with all the proceeds going to Shaking Stephens' favourite charity, me.
I like Christmas.
Isaac, this all sounds very exciting and innovative, but we are a simple funeral directors and we don't think this is our We'd be delighted to serve your requirements, Mr Hunt.
No task is too complicated for Thomas, Thomas, Thomas and Thomas.
Bing! Top answer.
That's exactly what I have on my card.
I wanna give Shaking Stephens the biggest send-off in tribute-band history.
Rambo; First Blood Part II.
Tell me, Mr Hunt, who's going to perform? That's a surprise.
- Right.
I'm going.
I've got business to attend to.
- Show business? It's good.
But it's not right.
No.
One of my buddies has procured me a dirty hussy in Abergavenny.
I always visit a prostitute when one of my friends dies.
Helps me cope.
I'll see you girls at the funeral.
What did you hit me for? Because you are a stupid, cranky boy.
We are looking at big bucks here.
And he'll think we can't cope with problems.
Besides this could be my Our chance.
- Chance for what? - Listen, he's having a band perform live at the funeral.
If I We could somehow get up there and sing, we'd be seen by the whole of the diocese.
And who knows.
If I'm We're good enough, we might be accepted by Mumbles Records.
It's a great opportunity.
I could be We could be stars.
- What about the band he's booked? - Oh, I'll think of something to get round that.
- Come on, Arwell.
We'll knock them dead.
- No! I'm not gonna do it.
I'm not gonna prance around a church with a great big perv.
I've seen the way you perform and it's sick.
The answer is no, and it's final.
Now, come on.
Let's get this body out of the skip.
Oh, bollocks.
Oh, bollocks.
PERCY: Stop! Let me explain, Mr Thomas.
We represent a chain of American funeral directors.
We're currently expanding into Asia, Africa and Wales.
As you know, Wales is a very lucrative area for funeral directors, given the high percentage of death in this zone, as we like to call it.
What does this have to do with me now? We'll put it bluntly.
We wanna buy your ass.
You want to buy my arse? That's right.
We understand how attached you must be to it.
How hard it will be to let it go.
But we are offering a substantial financial incentive.
How much? One million dollars.
What's that in pounds? Fifty grand.
Wowzers! That's a lot of money.
Tell me.
If I accept it, the offer that is, what will you do with it? We'll strip, gut, redecorate and expand it.
That sounds painful.
Will you use a top-class surgeon then? No.
An architect and some builders.
It's a big job.
But you'll be rich, happy, content.
You'll never have to work again.
Yes, but I'll be arseless.
How am I gonna do my business? You won't need to.
You'll be retired.
Yes, but retired people still have to shit.
Or will you give me a bag for that? You've got the wrong end of the cow poke.
We don't wanna buy your arse.
We wanna buy your ass.
Your funeral parlour.
Oh, I see! Oh, you're a (IVOR LAUGHING) Now, we're talking.
I wouldn't part with my arse for no man.
This building's got a lot of potential, Mr Thomas.
We need to know soon.
Well, I'd have to think about it, you know.
Discuss it with my boys, etcetera, etcetera.
We understand.
I know how much this business means to them.
I mean, they'd be devastated if they knew that I was thinking about selling it.
PERCY: Sod the business, Arwell.
It's dull, crap and boring.
Pull over here.
Come on, Arwell.
Let's get rocked.
Look, I told you.
I'm not gonna play at the funeral.
And even if I did and we got signed to Mumbles Records, we couldn't leave Da.
Of course we could.
He'll be retiring soon, and we'll be lumbered with that place and all the corpses that go with it.
As much I love Da, I don't want to end up like him in a tin-pot parlour.
Come on.
Let's get the rock out of here.
Just imagine.
Vegas.
Madison Square Gardens.
Centre Parcs.
We'll rock the world blue.
Right, now, wait here, I need to get a magazine.
Percy! Why do you persist with porno? A music magazine, twat boy.
I need to learn a song for the funeral.
And if you don't do it with me, I'll go solo.
I don't care.
19, 20.
Just these sweets is it, Billy boy? Yes, Mr Ford.
Really? Only I noticed you looking at these rubbery sheathes by here.
No, I wasn't, Mr Ford.
Honest.
Yes, you were.
But there's nothing to be ashamed of.
Here.
Why don't you take this home, pop it over your head, and show your da? He'll love it.
In fact, take the rest of these, prick them with a pin and stick them under Mum's bed.
There's a good boy.
Now, let's count these sweets, eh? 21, 22, 23 sweets you do have by here, boy.
Okay, Mr Ford.
- That will be £23.
- Pounds? Aye.
These are pound sweets, boy.
Can't you read? Look.
I haven't got that money.
Well, you can't put them back, Billy.
You have fingered them.
I don't know where your hands have been.
You are going to have to think of other ways of paying me, Billy boy.
Just the magazine is it, sir? Only I noticed you were looking at my balls.
- I'm sorry? - You want to suck my pods.
No, not today.
Mmm.
Just a quick suckle.
They're ample.
Hmm.
No, just the magazine.
Thanks.
Bollock, man! Well? Well, I've got this watch that my granddaddy left me when the angels took him.
And I've got this £5 gift voucher that I brought from my mam who was bedridden and making a mess.
Oh, and then I've got my brand-new bike that I got for my birthday.
- When was your birthday then, Billy? - Today.
And that's all I've got in the whole wide world.
Oh, Billy! Billy, Billy.
I'll tell you what, Billy, on this one occasion, this lot will have to bloody do for me! Now, fuck off, birthday boy! Right.
He wants a stage, lights, music, the works.
I think he's mad, but he wants Shaking to go out in style and he's willing to pay, so Hello! Is anybody actually listening to me? Oh! Sorry, Arwell, no.
No, I wasn't I've got other things on my mind as a matter of fact.
What would you say if I said that I was thinking about selling the business? What? Where did this come from? I had a knock from two Yanks today.
You know, the ones who own that funeral firm in America.
And they want to buy my business.
Never! Hope you told them to sod off.
You did, didn't you? No! - Please tell me you didn't say yes.
- No, I didn't say yes.
Thank Zardoz for that.
I said I'd think about it.
No! Tell me this is a dream, please.
Fifteen years! You want to throw it all away? Hold on a minute, Arwell.
Hold on.
How much? A million dollars in pounds.
- What's that? - Fifty grand.
Well, that's bloody brilliant.
Sell the place.
Bollocks to it.
Flog it now.
Go and live the high life in the Med.
Good tapas out there.
- You think so? - Mmm.
- Perhaps I will then.
- Hold on.
What about us? We'll have no job.
What's he gonna do? He can't exist in the real world.
He'll perish.
Oh, look! I want to be alone and I'm going out to the greenhouse for a quack.
I'll see you later.
Don't encourage him.
Why not? It's his business.
He can do what he bloody well wants.
You're just saying this because you think you're going to be a part of Mumbles Records.
What if it all goes wrong? You'll be running back to us like an electro-baby.
Things won't go wrong, Arwell.
I'll see to that.
- What have you got in mind? - You'll see.
- Excuse me.
Are you the singer? - Yes.
I thought I'd get here early so that I can rehearse and tune up.
(GRUNTS) PERCY: Eat spade.
(METALLIC CLANGING) (SCREAMING) Goodbye, Shaky.
We'll miss you.
There's been a terrible accident.
- No! Where? What? - The van.
They've crashed.
- Crashed.
What do you mean, crashed? - I mean crashed.
Bang.
We're talking Bucks Fizz proportions.
- What are we gonna do? - Hold on, Percy.
Let me think.
We haven't got time to think.
The show I mean the funeral starts in an hour.
Are they badly damaged? Well, they won't be doing the mashed potato for a long time.
Okay, then.
We'll have to do it.
There's no time to employ anyone else.
Oh, no.
Do we have to? No choice, I'm afraid.
Good.
Well, I'll go get my costume and paint my nails.
Oh, hello! Is that Mr Cobra? Yes.
This is Ivor Thomas here.
I've made a decision.
Yes.
Okay.
Okay.
I'll see you at the church, then.
Yes.
Yes! Yes, the whole tribute thing seemed like a good idea at the time but, after speaking to his parents who branded me an insensitive money-grabbing leopard, I I decided to make the funeral a little bit more low key.
Anyway, it was either that or a court case.
Right.
You're going now.
Goodbye.
Mr Hunt.
It's the band.
They're all dead.
What? Yeah, they crashed in the road.
I just got the call.
Oh, no, no! Whack, whack, oops.
This is awful! Another one of my buddies kicks the bucket.
What am I gonna do? There is only one person I can phone.
Mr Hunt.
No.
No.
We can fill the void.
- You? - Yes, we have our very own band, you see.
- Really? - Aye.
We got all our equipment in the back.
We don't mind playing a couple of songs.
Is you any good? Good! We're the bollocks.
Very well.
So what do you sing? I want something poignant.
Oh, we do poignancy.
Trust in me.
Gwynne.
Go and get our stuff.
(CRYING) We are gathered here today to say goodbye to one of our most famous shaking entertainers.
Shaking Stephens.
A true amateur.
However, he has now stopped shaking, and is going to another place.
The furnace.
Many people ask me what happens to us when we die, and I say, "It depends.
" They say, "What will his journey into the new kingdom be like?" And I say, "Not pleasant.
" As the coffin enters the furnace, the wood will burn and Shaky's skin will crack and spit like a big fat pig in an Indian oven.
All that remains are his bones which will be pulverised, and then housed in an expensive casket.
It's that simple.
But it was his last request for a live band to play him out one last time.
So will you please welcome, all the way from Trebanos, The Thomas Brothers.
# Ay-o, ay-o # Day-o Gwynne.
(PLAYING ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST) Steve walks warily down the street With the brim pulled way down low Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet Machine guns ready to go Are you ready, hey Are you ready for this? Are you hanging on the edge of your seat? Out of the doorway the bullets rip To the sound of the beat Another one bites the dust Another one bites the dust Come on, baby, bite the bloody dust Come on How do you think I'm going to get along without you when you're gone? You took me for everything that I had and kicked me out of my home Are you happy, are you satisfied? How long can you stand the heat? Out of the doorway the bullets rip To the sound of the beat Another one bites the dust Another one bites the dust And another one gone and another one gone Another one bites the dust Hey, I'm gonna get you too Another one bites the dust (CONGREGATION APPLAUDING) Oh, man, that was amazing.
Where did you learn to sing like Oh, man, that was amazing.
Where did you learn to sing like that? Boarding school.
The big boys made me do it.
It was either that or the tasting game.
I'm gonna sign you guys up.
You're joking! No, I'm not.
I've got a contract here in my back pocket for you to join Mumbles Records.
I'm gonna fly you all over the world.
You're gonna make records.
You're gonna play gigs in Las Vegas and Madison Square Gardens.
Centre Parcs? Yeah, if you like.
I'm gonna make you stars in Germany and Japan.
Oh, great.
I've always wanted to go to Osaka.
Well done, boys.
That was the bollocks! Are you really going to sign us up? Yes, I am.
Well, I'm going to sign these two, anyway.
Hold on a minute.
Why not me? Do you really want an honest answer? - Will it hurt? - Yes.
- No, then.
- Quick, give me a pen.
Hold on.
You can't just leave and join a band without me.
Yes, I can.
You're rubbish.
Isaac says so.
Now, piss off.
- What about Da and the business? - Sod them.
Come on, Ivor.
It's time.
All you need to do is sign and your ass is mine.
Right.
Give me a pen.
Da, what are you doing? I'm sorry, Arwell, but I've decided to sell the business.
You what? You can't! It's a million dollars.
Now, look, I'd be set up for life.
We all would.
Look, all I got to do, right, is sign.
But what about all the hard work? The grafting, the digging.
The sweat and the tears.
The sick and the smells.
You can't throw it all away.
- That's it.
I'm definitely signing now.
- Me, too.
You can't just leave and throw the business away.
What about me? It's all I've got.
What am I gonna do? Congratulations, Ivor.
(IN TEXAN ACCENT) You just bought my ass.
Welcome to Mumbles Records.
Here's to the first day of the rest of your lives! Yes! Right then, boys.
I'm off to the bank.
I'll see you all later.
Yes.
And I'm going to go write some licks.
Come on, Gwynne.
Oh, well.
Piss off.
We're shut.
The road is long With many a winding turn That leads us to who knows where Who knows where But I'm strong Strong enough to care
Fancy a breaststroke? Do you know who I am? I'm Shaking Stephens, the world's finest Shakin' Stevens impersonator.
Look what locker I got.
I always get locker 007 when I do go swimming.
And afterwards when I do go for a Slush Puppie, I ask for it shaken, not stirred.
Do you think I'm cool, girls? Yeah, really cool.
If you think you're so cool, why don't you have a go on the chute? It's the biggest one in Swansea.
SHAKING: No.
It's not my scene.
Go on, have a go.
I dare you.
Unless you're too scared.
Go on then, I'll do it.
(SINGING GREEN DOOR) (WHIMPERING) (SCREAMING) (PANTING) Oh, stop it! I can't take this anymore.
- What is it? - The bloody noise.
We're not saying anything.
I know that.
But your actions are speaking louder than words.
What with your scraping, his chewing and Dad's top dashing teeth.
It's driving me Miss Daisy, man.
Well, if you don't like the noise, - go and eat your food somewhere else.
- All right, I will.
Oh, he's a fussy sod, eh? Pass the butter, Arwell, please.
What's that? - It's a hair.
- I know that.
But of what origin? It looks coarse to me.
I don't think it's seen much daylight.
I think you're right.
It can only mean one thing.
Percy! Have you been watching Last Tango in Paris again? No, I haven't.
Liar! Next time, I'll buy a tub of margarine.
That will stop his game.
Did you hear about the Bennetts? What about them? Well, according to Ernie down at the morgue, this huge chain of American funeral directors offered them one million dollars in exchange for their business.
- Never! - Honest.
You'll never guess what.
They turned them down.
Good job, too.
I don't fancy competing with Yankee doodle dandies.
Anyway, why the Bennetts and not me? Aren't we a good enough business to take over or something? Probably not.
What do you care? You wouldn't sell this business no matter how much money was offered, would you? No, I'd never sell out to a John Wayne, Happy Days-loving, Lucky Strikes-smoking, Disney, burger-chomping, Chevy 4X4, American, Junior the third.
That's what I thought.
(PHONE RINGING) Oh, get that, Arwell.
I can't be bothered.
Hello! Thomas and Thomas and Thomas and Thomas funeral directors here.
How can I help you? Yes, I see.
Water chute? Shaking Stephens? A skip.
We'll be down as soon as we can.
Thank you, Mr Hunt.
Yes.
Bye-bye.
- Well? - Shaking Stephens is no longer shaking.
He fell out of a water chute into a skip this afternoon.
- Right.
Who are we dealing with here? - A chap called Hunt.
Isaac Hunt.
He's arranging the funeral.
Oh, you stupid soreness! It's a bogus, man.
A bloody big bogus.
It's a joke name.
What do you mean? Isaac Hunt.
Mike Hunt.
Gareth Hunt.
Joke names.
- You're joking.
- No, I'm not joking.
Isaac is.
- Oh, no.
He isn't.
- Huh? Isaac Hunt.
Happens to be the most powerful and influential music agent in Wales.
Whoever he is, he's at the scene now and he wants us there pronto, so - Come on, everyone.
Let's go.
- Hang on.
Hang on.
Hang on.
I got a cherry strudel in the oven for afters.
I only hope I don't find any hairs in that.
Marlon Brando never put a cherry strudel up his arse.
Oh, I don't know.
I wouldn't put anything past him.
Apparently, he got a copy of Beyond the Poseidon Adventure stuck up there once.
Best place for it, if you ask me.
- This is great.
- What do you mean? I've always wanted to be in show business.
If I could impress Mr Hunt, he could give me a job.
Since when have you wanted to be in show business? Oh, come on.
You know about my desire to be a rock god.
Why do you think I went to prison? You went to prison because you dressed up all our corpses as Roy Orbisons and tried to take them on tour.
Yes.
The Chapel Arrest Tour, 1994.
What a great success it would have been as well.
If only the police hadn't turned up before the duet with Jackie Wilson.
Reet Petite.
Mmm.
MAN: Ivor Thomas.
Can we have a word? What? Listen, it's me.
Tell Bassey that the morrow is off.
Shaking Stephens has perished in a bizarre chute mishap.
(IMITATING BUZZER) Don't grovel.
I hate grovellers.
Don't apologise either.
I hate apologies.
Apologies are for the weak.
Ah, get out of town.
You're fired.
Hello, Mum.
Tomorrow, better make it bread and butter pudding times five, I got guests.
It's okay.
Oh, and can you set the video for that Peter Purves commercial? You know, the one about the over 50s.
I love it.
Okay.
Bye.
Isaac Hunt.
- You must be the undertakers.
Good.
- Where is the deceased? - He's in the skip.
- Is he in a bad way? Well, his body's not too bad but his goggles are buggered.
Took a bit of a fall.
Right.
Now.
- Let's get down to business.
- Show business? (IMITATES BUZZER) Funeral business.
Now, Shaking Stephens left no next-of-kin so that leaves me in Well, I say that, he has got a son but he's jerking seals in Alaska.
- So that leaves me in a Well, I say that - Hello.
He has got two parents, but they are going round and round and round the Isle of Wight on a cruise ship.
Anyway, he was one of my best buddies, so I want to give him a proper send-off.
Now you may be aware Shaky had a lot of big pals in the business.
- Show business.
- Will you stop that? - Sorry.
- Oranges.
Right.
Now, listen.
I need you to find me a church with fine acoustics.
A stage.
Good seating facilities.
And ample car-parking space.
Can you do that for me? Well, I don't think (IMITATES BUZZER) Wrong answer.
You can do it.
There is nothing you cannot do for me.
I am the leader.
Mr Hunt, why do you want all these things? Well, I wanna give Shaky a good send-off concert at the service.
I've already booked his favourite band to play live.
I just need you to set it up for me.
I'll print the posters and arrange the advertising.
That's no problem.
As for tickets, we'll knock them out at what, £10 a throw, with all the proceeds going to Shaking Stephens' favourite charity, me.
I like Christmas.
Isaac, this all sounds very exciting and innovative, but we are a simple funeral directors and we don't think this is our We'd be delighted to serve your requirements, Mr Hunt.
No task is too complicated for Thomas, Thomas, Thomas and Thomas.
Bing! Top answer.
That's exactly what I have on my card.
I wanna give Shaking Stephens the biggest send-off in tribute-band history.
Rambo; First Blood Part II.
Tell me, Mr Hunt, who's going to perform? That's a surprise.
- Right.
I'm going.
I've got business to attend to.
- Show business? It's good.
But it's not right.
No.
One of my buddies has procured me a dirty hussy in Abergavenny.
I always visit a prostitute when one of my friends dies.
Helps me cope.
I'll see you girls at the funeral.
What did you hit me for? Because you are a stupid, cranky boy.
We are looking at big bucks here.
And he'll think we can't cope with problems.
Besides this could be my Our chance.
- Chance for what? - Listen, he's having a band perform live at the funeral.
If I We could somehow get up there and sing, we'd be seen by the whole of the diocese.
And who knows.
If I'm We're good enough, we might be accepted by Mumbles Records.
It's a great opportunity.
I could be We could be stars.
- What about the band he's booked? - Oh, I'll think of something to get round that.
- Come on, Arwell.
We'll knock them dead.
- No! I'm not gonna do it.
I'm not gonna prance around a church with a great big perv.
I've seen the way you perform and it's sick.
The answer is no, and it's final.
Now, come on.
Let's get this body out of the skip.
Oh, bollocks.
Oh, bollocks.
PERCY: Stop! Let me explain, Mr Thomas.
We represent a chain of American funeral directors.
We're currently expanding into Asia, Africa and Wales.
As you know, Wales is a very lucrative area for funeral directors, given the high percentage of death in this zone, as we like to call it.
What does this have to do with me now? We'll put it bluntly.
We wanna buy your ass.
You want to buy my arse? That's right.
We understand how attached you must be to it.
How hard it will be to let it go.
But we are offering a substantial financial incentive.
How much? One million dollars.
What's that in pounds? Fifty grand.
Wowzers! That's a lot of money.
Tell me.
If I accept it, the offer that is, what will you do with it? We'll strip, gut, redecorate and expand it.
That sounds painful.
Will you use a top-class surgeon then? No.
An architect and some builders.
It's a big job.
But you'll be rich, happy, content.
You'll never have to work again.
Yes, but I'll be arseless.
How am I gonna do my business? You won't need to.
You'll be retired.
Yes, but retired people still have to shit.
Or will you give me a bag for that? You've got the wrong end of the cow poke.
We don't wanna buy your arse.
We wanna buy your ass.
Your funeral parlour.
Oh, I see! Oh, you're a (IVOR LAUGHING) Now, we're talking.
I wouldn't part with my arse for no man.
This building's got a lot of potential, Mr Thomas.
We need to know soon.
Well, I'd have to think about it, you know.
Discuss it with my boys, etcetera, etcetera.
We understand.
I know how much this business means to them.
I mean, they'd be devastated if they knew that I was thinking about selling it.
PERCY: Sod the business, Arwell.
It's dull, crap and boring.
Pull over here.
Come on, Arwell.
Let's get rocked.
Look, I told you.
I'm not gonna play at the funeral.
And even if I did and we got signed to Mumbles Records, we couldn't leave Da.
Of course we could.
He'll be retiring soon, and we'll be lumbered with that place and all the corpses that go with it.
As much I love Da, I don't want to end up like him in a tin-pot parlour.
Come on.
Let's get the rock out of here.
Just imagine.
Vegas.
Madison Square Gardens.
Centre Parcs.
We'll rock the world blue.
Right, now, wait here, I need to get a magazine.
Percy! Why do you persist with porno? A music magazine, twat boy.
I need to learn a song for the funeral.
And if you don't do it with me, I'll go solo.
I don't care.
19, 20.
Just these sweets is it, Billy boy? Yes, Mr Ford.
Really? Only I noticed you looking at these rubbery sheathes by here.
No, I wasn't, Mr Ford.
Honest.
Yes, you were.
But there's nothing to be ashamed of.
Here.
Why don't you take this home, pop it over your head, and show your da? He'll love it.
In fact, take the rest of these, prick them with a pin and stick them under Mum's bed.
There's a good boy.
Now, let's count these sweets, eh? 21, 22, 23 sweets you do have by here, boy.
Okay, Mr Ford.
- That will be £23.
- Pounds? Aye.
These are pound sweets, boy.
Can't you read? Look.
I haven't got that money.
Well, you can't put them back, Billy.
You have fingered them.
I don't know where your hands have been.
You are going to have to think of other ways of paying me, Billy boy.
Just the magazine is it, sir? Only I noticed you were looking at my balls.
- I'm sorry? - You want to suck my pods.
No, not today.
Mmm.
Just a quick suckle.
They're ample.
Hmm.
No, just the magazine.
Thanks.
Bollock, man! Well? Well, I've got this watch that my granddaddy left me when the angels took him.
And I've got this £5 gift voucher that I brought from my mam who was bedridden and making a mess.
Oh, and then I've got my brand-new bike that I got for my birthday.
- When was your birthday then, Billy? - Today.
And that's all I've got in the whole wide world.
Oh, Billy! Billy, Billy.
I'll tell you what, Billy, on this one occasion, this lot will have to bloody do for me! Now, fuck off, birthday boy! Right.
He wants a stage, lights, music, the works.
I think he's mad, but he wants Shaking to go out in style and he's willing to pay, so Hello! Is anybody actually listening to me? Oh! Sorry, Arwell, no.
No, I wasn't I've got other things on my mind as a matter of fact.
What would you say if I said that I was thinking about selling the business? What? Where did this come from? I had a knock from two Yanks today.
You know, the ones who own that funeral firm in America.
And they want to buy my business.
Never! Hope you told them to sod off.
You did, didn't you? No! - Please tell me you didn't say yes.
- No, I didn't say yes.
Thank Zardoz for that.
I said I'd think about it.
No! Tell me this is a dream, please.
Fifteen years! You want to throw it all away? Hold on a minute, Arwell.
Hold on.
How much? A million dollars in pounds.
- What's that? - Fifty grand.
Well, that's bloody brilliant.
Sell the place.
Bollocks to it.
Flog it now.
Go and live the high life in the Med.
Good tapas out there.
- You think so? - Mmm.
- Perhaps I will then.
- Hold on.
What about us? We'll have no job.
What's he gonna do? He can't exist in the real world.
He'll perish.
Oh, look! I want to be alone and I'm going out to the greenhouse for a quack.
I'll see you later.
Don't encourage him.
Why not? It's his business.
He can do what he bloody well wants.
You're just saying this because you think you're going to be a part of Mumbles Records.
What if it all goes wrong? You'll be running back to us like an electro-baby.
Things won't go wrong, Arwell.
I'll see to that.
- What have you got in mind? - You'll see.
- Excuse me.
Are you the singer? - Yes.
I thought I'd get here early so that I can rehearse and tune up.
(GRUNTS) PERCY: Eat spade.
(METALLIC CLANGING) (SCREAMING) Goodbye, Shaky.
We'll miss you.
There's been a terrible accident.
- No! Where? What? - The van.
They've crashed.
- Crashed.
What do you mean, crashed? - I mean crashed.
Bang.
We're talking Bucks Fizz proportions.
- What are we gonna do? - Hold on, Percy.
Let me think.
We haven't got time to think.
The show I mean the funeral starts in an hour.
Are they badly damaged? Well, they won't be doing the mashed potato for a long time.
Okay, then.
We'll have to do it.
There's no time to employ anyone else.
Oh, no.
Do we have to? No choice, I'm afraid.
Good.
Well, I'll go get my costume and paint my nails.
Oh, hello! Is that Mr Cobra? Yes.
This is Ivor Thomas here.
I've made a decision.
Yes.
Okay.
Okay.
I'll see you at the church, then.
Yes.
Yes! Yes, the whole tribute thing seemed like a good idea at the time but, after speaking to his parents who branded me an insensitive money-grabbing leopard, I I decided to make the funeral a little bit more low key.
Anyway, it was either that or a court case.
Right.
You're going now.
Goodbye.
Mr Hunt.
It's the band.
They're all dead.
What? Yeah, they crashed in the road.
I just got the call.
Oh, no, no! Whack, whack, oops.
This is awful! Another one of my buddies kicks the bucket.
What am I gonna do? There is only one person I can phone.
Mr Hunt.
No.
No.
We can fill the void.
- You? - Yes, we have our very own band, you see.
- Really? - Aye.
We got all our equipment in the back.
We don't mind playing a couple of songs.
Is you any good? Good! We're the bollocks.
Very well.
So what do you sing? I want something poignant.
Oh, we do poignancy.
Trust in me.
Gwynne.
Go and get our stuff.
(CRYING) We are gathered here today to say goodbye to one of our most famous shaking entertainers.
Shaking Stephens.
A true amateur.
However, he has now stopped shaking, and is going to another place.
The furnace.
Many people ask me what happens to us when we die, and I say, "It depends.
" They say, "What will his journey into the new kingdom be like?" And I say, "Not pleasant.
" As the coffin enters the furnace, the wood will burn and Shaky's skin will crack and spit like a big fat pig in an Indian oven.
All that remains are his bones which will be pulverised, and then housed in an expensive casket.
It's that simple.
But it was his last request for a live band to play him out one last time.
So will you please welcome, all the way from Trebanos, The Thomas Brothers.
# Ay-o, ay-o # Day-o Gwynne.
(PLAYING ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST) Steve walks warily down the street With the brim pulled way down low Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet Machine guns ready to go Are you ready, hey Are you ready for this? Are you hanging on the edge of your seat? Out of the doorway the bullets rip To the sound of the beat Another one bites the dust Another one bites the dust Come on, baby, bite the bloody dust Come on How do you think I'm going to get along without you when you're gone? You took me for everything that I had and kicked me out of my home Are you happy, are you satisfied? How long can you stand the heat? Out of the doorway the bullets rip To the sound of the beat Another one bites the dust Another one bites the dust And another one gone and another one gone Another one bites the dust Hey, I'm gonna get you too Another one bites the dust (CONGREGATION APPLAUDING) Oh, man, that was amazing.
Where did you learn to sing like Oh, man, that was amazing.
Where did you learn to sing like that? Boarding school.
The big boys made me do it.
It was either that or the tasting game.
I'm gonna sign you guys up.
You're joking! No, I'm not.
I've got a contract here in my back pocket for you to join Mumbles Records.
I'm gonna fly you all over the world.
You're gonna make records.
You're gonna play gigs in Las Vegas and Madison Square Gardens.
Centre Parcs? Yeah, if you like.
I'm gonna make you stars in Germany and Japan.
Oh, great.
I've always wanted to go to Osaka.
Well done, boys.
That was the bollocks! Are you really going to sign us up? Yes, I am.
Well, I'm going to sign these two, anyway.
Hold on a minute.
Why not me? Do you really want an honest answer? - Will it hurt? - Yes.
- No, then.
- Quick, give me a pen.
Hold on.
You can't just leave and join a band without me.
Yes, I can.
You're rubbish.
Isaac says so.
Now, piss off.
- What about Da and the business? - Sod them.
Come on, Ivor.
It's time.
All you need to do is sign and your ass is mine.
Right.
Give me a pen.
Da, what are you doing? I'm sorry, Arwell, but I've decided to sell the business.
You what? You can't! It's a million dollars.
Now, look, I'd be set up for life.
We all would.
Look, all I got to do, right, is sign.
But what about all the hard work? The grafting, the digging.
The sweat and the tears.
The sick and the smells.
You can't throw it all away.
- That's it.
I'm definitely signing now.
- Me, too.
You can't just leave and throw the business away.
What about me? It's all I've got.
What am I gonna do? Congratulations, Ivor.
(IN TEXAN ACCENT) You just bought my ass.
Welcome to Mumbles Records.
Here's to the first day of the rest of your lives! Yes! Right then, boys.
I'm off to the bank.
I'll see you all later.
Yes.
And I'm going to go write some licks.
Come on, Gwynne.
Oh, well.
Piss off.
We're shut.
The road is long With many a winding turn That leads us to who knows where Who knows where But I'm strong Strong enough to care