The Fast Show s03e03 Episode Script

They're all slimy.
They're dead fish! (CAR ACCELERATES) (EXPLOSION) There.
He should never have gone on that job.
– He should not have used his own motor.
– He's a mug, isn't he? – Chris, look after the stall for five minutes.
– You're havin' a laugh! – Got ''The Sun''? – There you go, love.
– I'll only be gone five minutes.
– Yeah, I know, but it's me.
– I'm only asking you to look after it.
– You can't turn your back on me, or it's gone! Where is it? In my lock–up.
You know what I'm like.
– You're a mate, Chris.
– I'm also a little bit wuuuh, a little bit wa–a–y! – Yeah, but we're mates.
– I'm also a geezer, a thief.
I'm lowlife scum! – I will nick anything.
– Want a cup of tea? Don't do this to me! Don't do it, Dan! Dan! You know my husband Ken? The other night, right, we'd finished in the bar.
He brought me bread he'd put under the grill with some cheese on.
You know what it was, don't yer? Cheese on toast.
Simple as that.
This is Philip, Kenneth.
He's the new boy.
We need to show him the ropes.
He's not very experienced.
I'm sure you're very experienced, aren't you, young sir? – I dunno about that.
– Oh! Suit you, young sir! Now, young sir, these are jackets, these are shirts and this, of course, is a trouser! (BOTH) Ohhhh! Ooooh! – It's not too difficult, is it, sir? – No, I suppose not.
– Ladies like a man in a trouser, don't they, sir? – And OUT of a trouser.
I expect you're in and out of your trousers all day long, aren't you? Do you know the correct way to measure a man? This is your tape measure.
Look after it, for it will be your best friend, your lover and your mother.
Always remember to warm the end.
You don't want to go in cold.
Then jam it up nice and snug and Bob's your uncle.
And Fanny's your aunt.
– Are you married, young sir? – No.
But you do have a girlfriend, I warrant.
Fine, handsome young man like yourself.
– I bet you're beating off the ladies with a stick.
– Ohhh! Beating off the ladies, sir? Ooh! With a stick, sir? Ohh! Suit you! Ooh! Do you ever have occasion to beat yourself off, young sir? With a stick! Dunno, but I have got a girlfriend.
– Is she a big girl, sir? – Sorry? When she takes off her top, are you reminded of that scene from ''Raiders Of The Lost Ark''? Only with two boulders instead of one, young sir? – She's sort of normal.
– She's a sort of animal, sir? A scratching, kicking, moaning, bucking, writhing animal? Does she sometimes go too far, sir? Does she birch you with nettles and then need heavy sedation, young sir? I don't like talking about my private life, so if you don't mind Certainly, young sir.
You're fired.
(EXAGGERATED FIGHT SOUND EFFECTS) To become a devillian commander requires at least six hours in make–up.
I'm required on set at 4am.
That's three hours before most people arrive.
And then, once the make–up's on, something magical occurs.
Halfway through, a transformation really takes place and I become the character.
Grrrrrrrr! Come on! Come on, girls! 'Scuse me! Come on! Come on, that's it, come on! Oh, crikey, an 'all of mirrors! I haven't been in one of them since I were a nipper.
I'll pop in for a giggle, shall, I? Ooh! (LAUGHS) Heh heh heh heh! (LAUGHS) Oh, bugger! – Joan Collin's Snatch? – No.
– Do you have a young daughter? – No.
Oh, my mistake.
Well, then, an attractive, slim friend or colleague? No.
Why do you ask? I see you've made a purchase from the swimwear department.
I'm very much hoping that with that figure you're not taking the risk of letting your husband compare your body with that of a younger, thong–clad, bronzed, topless beauty.
You mark my words, hanging on to your man is a 24–hour–a–day, bare–knuckles business and with precious little reward! – I really think you need all the help you can get.
– What? No offence.
This season I'll be mostly wearing navy blue court shoes.
Start low, pull down the tower, find him on the roof.
– Cool.
– Yeah.
So, Chip, you run to the edge of the roof, there's a shot, you clutch your chest and then you fall.
– Who do I shoot? – YOU get shot.
OK, right, yeah.
No, I'm not happy about this, Peter.
The stunt's harder than we arranged.
I've asked my bloke to deflate that bag.
It's too small.
We need a larger bag.
It will cost more, but I've got to think about safety, OK? – Oh, right.
Well, it's lunchtime anyway, Sid.
– Sorry.
Chip, right, it's lunchtime time now, so could you stand down? We need to replace the bag with a bigger bag.
– Go and check your make–up with Ruth.
– Chuck myself off the roof? All right.
Aagh! I'm on the Internet, I am.
Haven't found much use for it, though, to be honest.
Get a shot of the hole there, Baz.
Now pan up.
Right.
Day 14, Simon and Lyndsay here potholing.
– Popholing.
– Potholing.
Where big men get into small holes.
Now, we need plenty of rope and balls to get in a hole.
You certainly need balls, Lyndsay.
– We're standing at the mouth of Hole – That's quite funny! Hole P147A.
Otherwise known as the Mouth of Hell.
– Is it? – Yes.
Seven men are known to have perished down there.
Five of the bodies were never recovered.
– Really? – Yes.
It is an excellent hole.
A bitch of a pitch.
We're talking a mile of slots, half a mile of crawls, a 200–foot sump, many large caverns, running water En suite bathrooms and telephones in every room! No, Lyndsay.
Cold, naked death in every room.
Imagine, if you will, a world of total darkness, a tunnel so narrow you can only go forwards and not back.
It's freezing cold, the water's rising, there's not much oxygen.
– Right.
So are we going in, then? – Yes.
Preparation is everything when you're getting into a hole of this nature.
Only a fool would go in unprepared.
We've bought all our own gear and, I can tell you, this stuff don't come cheap.
It certain don't.
It come expensive.
So, as I say, only a total drongo would go down there without all this.
Soer – It's gripped! – It's sorted! Let'snot do it.
Fine by me.
This is just stupid.
Perrier water.
Just like water, that, you know, but fizzy.
Expensive, in't it? It costs nowt out of the tap.
Brown bread.
Very posh.
Keeps you regular, though, doesn't it? Beef.
Oh, do you remember the beef crisis? Anti–dandruff shampoo.
Is that for you? Aww, nowt wrong with a scabby scalp.
KY Jelly.
Bit of vaginal dryness? £8.
18, please.
– How you doin'? – Haven't seen you for a while.
I've been going to poly, doing evening classes.
– What you doin'? – Marriage guidance, cryogenics pottery for beginners and learn the recorder.
(WHISTLES) – Keeps you off the streets.
– It does.
Hopefully I'll get a job at the end of it.
Cryogenics, that's me long–term banker.
Marriage guidance, I can do that already.
I just see people arguing and I wade in.
Leave her alone, mate, leave her alone.
Pottery, it's not really me, but the recorder, I'm right good at it.
Last Tuesday, I was flying! ''Greensleeves'' and all that.
(WHISTLES) But there's no call for a recorder teacher round the Old Kent Road.
The instrument's dying out.
Years ago, every posh kid had a recorder.
That was a coup, wasn't it? After school – homework, story, tea, recorder practice, bed.
These days, it's all alcopops and samplers, innit? Yeah.
Kids nowadays got no soul.
When I was little, my mum couldn't afford a recorder for me.
On one school journey up in Scotland – Inverlever Lodge – all the posh kids in a circle playing ''Silent Night'' on recorders.
Me, me one V–necked jumper, at the side playing the spoons.
(BLOWS WHISTLE) Come on! What's the matter with you?! Flow! That's grand.
Come on, now, come on! Come on, on past me, now! Come on, under the bridge! That's great! Look at the current on that! That's beautiful! Come on.
Don't swirl like that! You're eddying, you lazy bastard! Come on! Get down this one! Go on, you lazy bastard! That's it! – Do I find you reading a book, Paul? – Yeah, sorry, Swiss.
There are no customers.
It's a guidebook.
I'm going camping at the weekend.
Putting up a tent is very much like making love to a beautiful woman.
You have to unzip the door, put up your pole, and slip into the old bag.
By grasping the hair at the nape of the boy's neck between his thumb and first digit, the house master would exert upward pressure, and the offending child would rise from his seat at exactly the pace the house master wished.
This strange act of levitation was greeted with HOWLS of glee from the other boys! Only when he stood fully erect would the grip be relinquished and a sharp smack to the top of the head would deposit the contrite pupil back at his desk.
(SLAMS DESK LID) The contrast between the slow, agonising rise and the bruisingly quick descent was always most comical.
His exquisite sense of timing never left him, even after his years in Rampton and Broadmoor.
(EXAGGERATED FIGHT SOUND EFFECTS) Me? The 13th Duke of Wybourne, here, in a women's prison, at three o'clock in the morning, with my reputation? Oh, well.
Penal correctitude it is, then.
(ALL) # Happy birthday to you # Hey! Hey, 21 today.
Your whole life ahead of you.
Full of opportunity.
You're so lucky.
Life really starts now.
You can do everything and anything.
Hah! (COOLJAZZ) Hello, and welcome to ''Jazz Club''.
Admirable.
Tonight, jazz dance.
The first UK televised appearance of the Canadian jazz dance group, Thrush – (OFF CAMERA) Thrusk.
– Thrust, and – Thrusk! – Trust.
– THRUSK! – Thrusk.
Mm, right.
.
.
will be performing their dance work, ''Inevitable Geometry''.
Ground–breaking! Their specially composed score by Henri Le Viand – Formidable! – astonished audiences when it was first performed at Le Festival de Jazz in Quebec.
Sacre bleu! So, here areThrusk.
(STRIDENT MODERN JAZZ) (TUNELESS JAZZ) (FAST DRUMMING) (STRIDENT TRUMPET BLARES) (EERIE, WHIRRING MUSIC) – I love the sound of seagulls, don't you, Katie? – Very evocative.
It's a lovely sound.
I'll put some more blue in the water.
Do you notice, as the day goes on, the colour of the sea changes by the minute? – It's a wonderful blue, isn't it? – It is lovely.
The reds of the roofs there against the water really jump out at you.
– Very vivid.
– And the white walls with those windows there.
Very dark, almostblack.
– Johnny – Black, yes.
I shall need to get the black out.
– JohnnyJohnny – Black! Black! Black! Black for the sky! And the sea, black! All black – like the procession of night that leads us into the valley of despair! Black! Where are we sleeping tonight, Mother? – In Father's grave? – Johnny We try to hide, but it claims us in the end! – It always plagues us! Death! Death! Death! – I think we'd better go home now, dear.
So cold as snow! So cold! Oh, it's so futile! I'm blind! The gulls have plucked out my eyes! We crawl on our knees towards our doom! Dogs of death! Woof! Woof! Quick! Quick, come on! Come on! Come on, girls! (JOLLY TUNE ON THE PIANO) You a pianist, are yer? It's the hardest job in the world, innit, eh? The old piano game.
Yeah, I done it myself.
Concert pianist, I was.
30 years, man and boy.
Oh, yeah, hardest game in the world, innit, eh? Remembering all them notes – some of 'em are black, some of 'em are white.
All that sitting down, eh? Watching the old conductor's hands to see what the beat is.
I've worked with 'em all, you know.
Von Karajan, he was the best.
Old Herbert.
Lovely hands.
Very expressive.
I had to give it up in the end.
Terrible back injury.
From all the sitting.
Me and Stan was at a fur and feather on Sunday – near St Ives.
Very funny story, as it goes.
You see, I drew peg 179 and he's drawn peg 180 right next to me.
I've had 46 pound of bream and he blanked! He was gutted.
I bought him a pint.
Do you know ''My Way'' by Frank Sinatra? That's my favourite song, that is.
Are you m–married, by any chance? And on Sunday night in our Scottish cinema season – when a ship is wrecked off the coast of an island, the villagers' lives are turned upside down.
A comedy to warm the cockles of your heart, a remake of ''Whisky Galore!'' from the makers of ''Trainspotting''.
Whatever is it, Hamish? – It's heroin.
Tons of the stuff! – Whatever will we do with it all? Gordon Jackson and Robert Carlyle in ''Heroin Galore''.
(GENTLE MUSIC: ''LOCH LOMOND'') (LIVELY SCOTTISH JIG) (SIGHS LOUDLY) Never again! (THEY HUM TO ''LOCH LOMOND'') (ALL CHEER) Come on, come on, past me, now! Come on! Come on! Let's have you! Come on! Quick as you can! To me, to me! All of you, come on! Come on, that's it! Around there! Great! Keep it up, now! There you go! – Body of Christ.
– Amen.
Father, does my bum look big in this? Do you think God would mind if I made a couple of alterations? Even a belt might glam it up a bit.
Thing is, you're probably gay, so I can get an unbiased opinion from you.
What's with all this white? With Islam, you get to wear black, and who doesn't look good in black? This wafer, I bet it's pretty fattening.
Is there any chance of a low–cal sacrament? Hello there, Ted.
Yes, IerI couldn't help noticing you're having a bonfire.
– I can put it out if you like, sir.
– No, no, you misunderstand.
I love a bonfire.
The dancing flames.
When I was a child, I used to think that the smoke was clouds of tiny angels escaping from the fire.
– Oh.
– Yes, well, that's by the by.
I was wondering if I might burn some stuff on your fire.
– That's fine, sir.
– Yes, I've been cleaning out the house.
So much junk, so much accumulated rubbish.
– I'll burn it for you.
– Very kind of you.
Yes, that's mostly stuff from agricultural college.
As you know, I was never very happy there.
I thought I'd take the bull by the horns and away with it all! Ha ha! No, sorry, Ted, don't burn that.
Whilst I was at the Ag, I flirted with the dramatic arts.
I and a small group of friends founded an experimental theatre group.
Theerthe Soul Farmers.
This is a programme from our very first and, indeed, our last ever production.
An all–nude version of ''Oh! What A Lovely War!'' Wasn't a great success, but it was one of the few things I did at college that I actually enjoyed.
If you remember, I never completed the course.
No, sir.
– I came to visit you in the hospital, sir.
– Yes.
You know, Ted, II can't tell you how much I appreciated that.
As you know, a lot of people are frightened ofmental illness.
– Your parents told everyone you had the flu, sir.
– Yes.
So, memoriesmemories, Ted.
Let's burn it all, eh? Look to the future.
I'm sorry, Ted, I've got smoke in my eyes.
Me, too, sir.
God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God, that's its willy! I thought it was its tail! Now, Toby, I want you to lift this now.
It may seem a daunting, even pointless, task.
But believe you me, with mind over matter, it can be done.
Hang on.
Use some chalk.
(CLICKS HIS FINGERS) Am I the only person interested in this child's development? Go ahead.
(GRUNTS AND SIGHS) (GRUNTS) – I can't do it.
It's impossible.
– Nothing is impossible, Toby.
Watch me.
Now, on the point of lifting, I may emit a scream.
Don't worry.
It's a simple release of pressure.
Ahhhhhhh! – Toby, I'm in trouble! – Just drop it, Dad! No, I will never give in to gravity! Put it down, love.
(GROANS) I used too much chalk.
(SHIP'S FOGHORN BLARES) (THUNK!) (SQUISH!) (CRASH!) (EXAGGERATED FIGHT SOUND EFFECTS) (CRASH!) (JOLLY SOUNDTRACK MUSIC) Nice.
(JOLLY MUSIC CONTINUES) (SIGHS CONTENTEDLY) Oh.
(JOLLY MUSIC CONTINUES) – Where's the spare? – (BANGING AND CRASHING) Spilt the milk! Get my chair .
.
andout with that oneand Ah, there.
(SNARLING) Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Take the best sneeze you've ever had and multiply it by a lot – like, three – you're not even close.
Quick! Quick!