The Fast Show s03e05 Episode Script

Hello, Chris.
How you feelin'? Little bit wuuhh? Little bit wa–a–ay? No, not really.
I'm a little bit pffff.
Little bit uuuhh.
– Little bit naaaah.
– Sorry about that.
(CAR ACCELERATES) (EXPLOSION) Hiya, love.
Air freshener.
House pong, does it? Free–range eggs.
They're only ordinary eggs, them, but with a bit of shit on.
Sanitary towels.
You know, that dry–weave top sheet's changed my life.
Red wine.
You celebrating? Wish I could celebrate something.
£2.
50 an hour I'm on.
Nowt to celebrate, is it? £9.
27, please.
(YELLS IN HORROR) (GASPS AND WAILS) It weed near me and splashed me on the wellies! Chip, we'll just check the bike for later.
I used to watch it, but it's no good any more.
So Chip jumps over the car, falls off and hits his head on the false rock? – That's about the size of it.
– Sweet.
You happy with the rock? Yeah, it all seems hunky–dory.
I'll have to walk through it with Chip.
– Where is he? – He's just behind with Jamie.
Oh, yeah.
Chip, talk to Mike about the rock.
Ride me bike into the dock? All right.
No There's someone sitting there, mate.
Damn! Oh! – Right.
40–love.
Match point.
– Yes, get on with it.
And try and remain dignified.
Don't be unsportsmanlike.
Yeah! Yes! I did it! I beat you, Dad.
Thanks for the game.
Shake on it.
Right.
Let me show you what's wrong with your serve.
– # Showbiz! – # Ton stars! # Ton film! – # Showbiz! – # Ton guys! # Ton girls! – # Showbiz! – # Ton film! # TV! – # And radio! – # Showbiz! – # The glamour! – # The pussy! Crazy nights! Lazy days! – # Academia – # Republica – # SminkiPinki – # Especiale ♪ ARSE! ♪ Bono estente! Wilkommen! Bonsoir! Awight! Howdy–doody! Eh? Ton ceremonius hour di speciale von musica, telli–welli, filme e capaigna militarios.
Heh–heh–heh! Heth–theth–theth–theth, the–the–theth–theth–theth, Chris Waddle.
Humoros incidenta, tutta tutta fibra alimento.
Primordial no–dick hoof golf lynx! (LAUGHS) Ee ah eh introducarios von Anna Gestapo! (APPLAUSE) Bono estente.
Ton nomanazi dominazi communazi kibbutz enaciacion categorios dramatico.
Ipse potrabi ''Thrombosis'', ''Conflicto Urbana'' e ''El Amora Y El Passionne''.
(APPLAUSE) Ton solonimas liver pâté! Ohspongee, spongee, spongee! (ROMANTIC MUSIC) Oh, George Clooney! (MUTTERS QUICKLY) Hetheheth Chris Waddle bangabangabangabang SminkiPinki Slutto! Stuattiveto verde! Eh? Aaaah! Questo lotharo stickolip? Huh? Oh! Slutto stupido! Hethethetheth bang–bang–bang! Mio tutto pussycat! Mio tutto Stupido poopo moronicos sinatra pussycat! Victorioso este ''ElAmora Y El Passionne''! Oh! Oh! Superioso.
(SQUEAKS) Si magnifico surprise etandofa! Timotei pantenne silvikrin! Oh god frizz vosene! .
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between a prefect's teeth, and should any bright young spark aspire to be head boy of this august institution, he would first have to prove his mettle by facing trials by ordeal, the most awesome and sacred of which was kicking the face off the school rabbit.
But, darling, he only won because you've taught him so well.
He's never beaten you before.
Look, it's only a game No, I didn't mean that.
It's your teaching methods.
It was a fluke.
I expect you let him win, didn't you? – Well, I wasn't going to say that – Well, then.
There's no need to be so upset.
It's not the defeat that bothers me, it's his behaviour afterwards.
The boy was positively repellent.
He's got a very competitive streak, which I think he's got from you.
Comedy's a funny thing, innit? I mean, I know it's meant to be, obviously Well – Is this seat taken? – No, be my guest.
You a man of the cloth, are you? What denomination? Don't tell me.
Let me guess.
Episcopalian? – Anglican.
– Oh, the old Anglicans, eh? I tell you what, hardest job in the world, the old preaching game.
I admire you.
All the kneeling and the praying? Hardest game in the world.
I done it meself, you see, 30 years, man and boy.
Fire and brimstone, I was.
Old school.
''For the Lord thy God is a jealous God!'' I never let anyone off the hook.
I was a demon in the pulpit.
Well, not literally.
I had to give it up.
Terrible back injury.
All the kneeling, havoc with the coccyx.
Me and Stan was on the Thames the other day, charity match for Great Ormond Street.
Not a lot, really.
I had four roach, biggest was only 12 ounces.
Stan didn't have a touch.
I hope he catches something soon.
He's getting miserable.
What do you think of Harry Connick Jr? He's like a young pretender to Frank Sinatra's throne, isn't he? I won't have him in the house.
This season I'll be mostly wearing no pants.
And no vest, neither! Hello, and welcome back to ''Jazz Club''.
Nice.
Tonight, dinner jazz.
Mmmmellow.
We're pleased to have perhaps the most popular exponent of dinner jazz in America – Stepney Green with his band the New Headhunters.
Great.
It's not the original Headhunters line–up, of course.
How could anyone really replace the late and legendary Charlie ''The Bulb'' Robeson? But new drummer Mint Green, under the tuition of his brother Soylent, is really quite good.
One day, he'll make a great jazz musician.
Great.
Really great.
So, with the title track from his crazy nights and lazy days waxing, here's Stepney Green and the New not–quite–as–good Headhunters with ''Crazy Nights And Lazy Days''.
Crazy.
Crazy nights Yeah, and lazy days You make me high In so many ways Doo–be–doo–be–doo–be–doo–be–doo Doo doo doo doo doo Badoom Crazy nights and lazy days Plop, plop, plop then lays its eggs in your brain.
(MUTTERS INCOHERENTLY) .
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but the women there are absolutely sex mad.
.
.
I managed to drain the wound into a tin cup .
.
like that, in my neck.
.
.
pierced labia.
By jingo! I realised I'd married three of them! Oh, yes .
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then they made me their chief.
.
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the witch doctor never liked me, he was forever bearing .
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I realised I'd made a terrible faux pas in their culture.
.
.
I bluffed my way out, but they chased me for several weeks.
.
.
very surprising they didn't catch me because I was smashed on poisonous frogs.
There's someone sitting there, love.
Quail's sire and dam are both field–trial champions, which means he's a born retriever.
I'm gonna send him for a retrieve, which Dan will throw and salute with gunfire.
When you're ready, Dan.
Get on.
Quailget on.
Go on, then.
He's never done that before.
Quick! Come on! Come on, quick! Quick! Land, ho! Ah, appears to be low tide at Glass Bay.
I shall get some replenishments.
(FRENCH ACCENT) Replenishments.
Mule train! Oh, dear! A pint of Alec Guinness, please.
And two pints of Karl Lagerfeld, a Gin Davidson, a Boris Smirnoff and half a George Best.
– Anything else? – Huts! – Bag of nuts? – No, huts! Old naval huts, ooh! # Cavalry take 'em and they cover them in chocolate! # Um Bongo! Um Bongo! They drink it in the Congo! I am insane! Quite, quite mad! – So am I.
– Are you totally bonkers? Bllblblblbl! Well, I'm clinically depressed.
I had a very bad breakdown last year and I'm still recovering.
The bells! The bells! Sanctuary! Esmerelda! They're closed.
.
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belacuta akashmello.
Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick! Eh? Eh? Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick! (CHEERING AND APPLAUSE) .
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nomanazi dominazi communazi kibbutz enaciacion categorios comedia cheeky fella.
E tua introduciariEnrique! Ho–ho–ho! Plushty–plushty minge slip–slap and slide.
Lire ton nominazis.
Ho–ho–ho! Ton nominazis bea program comedia – ''Plip E Plop'' don ''Comeddia Explosionne'', ''Ton Twelf Ronnies'' e ''Malle Hombres Disgustante''.
– E ton victoriosa esta – Eh! Eh! Espeta, epseta.
Tuas ejaculare prematurios.
Oh, mia retardo! (SPEEDED–UP SQUEAKY VOICES) Regardo! Scuso.
Conographia tick–tock? Woooar! Boutros boutros ghali para mio e boutros boutros ghali para luio.
Bunko–rumpo! Wheeeey! Eh? Regardo, regardo, regardo! Ffffffft! Ffff! Ffffffffftttttt! Ubi esta mia Wonderbra? Bunk rumpo crumpet! E ton victoriosa ''Malle Hombres Disgustante''! Me, the 13th Duke of Wybourne, here, in the changing rooms with the Brazilian synchronised swimming team? Let's hope I live up to my reputation.
Ladies, here I come.
Time for a rub–down.
Would you like to try Drillbit by Taylor Woodrow? It's provocatively musky and contains real cinnamon.
– No, I'm already wearing Calvin Klein.
– Oh.
Quite right, too.
An appropriately feminine smell for sir.
My mistake.
You're not really manly enough for this particular line of toiletries, are you? I see quite clearly now.
You are much more of a Calvin Klein type ofperson.
No offence.
Ted! Ted.
Ah, barbed wire.
Excellent.
Um This is rather embarrassing, actually, so I shall come straight out with it.
You know II said I would leave you everything in my will? I have just spent a rather alarming morning with Mr Pinker, the, er, family solicitor, and it seems I've not taken into account death duties and unpaid bills and a rather complicated tax situation, which I shan't pretend I understand.
Um So when I said I would leave you everything, er everything may not bewell, it will be everything, but it won't be Wh–What it will be is What I'm trying to say (CLEARS THROAT) trying to say, Ted, is that I would very much like you to have the framed photograph of my parents in India.
As you remarked, it is very hot out there.
Um You know more of the world than you let on, Ted.
And, um How is the baler doing? It needs a new alternator, sir.
Well I play John Drummond, a hard–case US marine commando, whose family are kidnapped by evil drug dealers.
In order to infiltrate the gang, I disguise myself as Jane, a widow living next door.
It would be easy for a woman to play this part, but I have to learn the mannerisms and spend at least six hours in make–up.
(SQUEALS) Ooh, my goodness! How do you walk in these things?! I'm not gay, you know.
Well, Ron, in the coming months we have a veritable feast of football.
What? We're going to be eating footballs, then? – Very funny, Ron.
– Thanks very much.
If football be the food of love, play on.
Tommy, no need to gild the lily.
But, seriously, the World Cup in France, a cracking season at home, and a sprinkling of Premiership representatives going into Europe.
Ah, but do we want to go into Europe? The ERM, isn't it? REM? Who's that in the corner? It's me! Losing my religion.
Will I try to curl one in? Hard to say, really.
Marvellous.
Ron, football, Europe.
Oh, yes.
European football.
Do we really want it? The overacting? The hirsute faces? The First World War.
Christmas 1914.
We beat them then, didn't we? In no man's land? Enduring image, isn't it? Young men, between the wires, heads for goalposts.
Shrapnel, mustard gas, over the top, over here, overpaid, some of them, aren't they? Hmm? Oh ''Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.
'' Mmm? Isn't it? The futility of war.
What happened to the Germans in 1917? Suddenly, they collapsed.
The supply lines were overextended.
Yes, an army marches on its stomach.
That's my point.
Obviously, not literally.
It uses its legs.
Ron, I could talk about the First World War all day, but the second half's commencing.
We go back to our man at Elland Road, Allen Ginsberg.
– Are you ready to order? – I think so.
I'll have the chef's pâté and also the grilled I'm sorry.
I've just come.
The grilled scallops.
And for main course, I'll have roast rack of I do beg your pardon.
I've just come again.
The roast rack of lamb.
And I'll have lamb's kidney Sorry, I've just come.
And for wine, sir? No, could you just order us a taxi? We've both just come.
Last Saturday, half one till two o'clock, place starts fillin' up.
Loads of people with scarves and bobble hats on talkin' about football.
Quarter to three, place empties completely.
Didn't see 'em again till gone five.
You know what it was, don't you? Football fans.
Simple as that.
Now Ah, whoops.
Oh, no.
Never mind.
No, look.
I'll just draw that down across there, and it's a tree.
Just use your imagination.
You can almost feel the paint coming alive.
Just mix and draw, mix and draw, up into that lovely sky.
''The rain is the sky's blood pierced by the spear of foolhardiness.
'' – Sophocles.
– I think so.
I think so.
''Chase your clouds of destiny.
Chase them until you cannot chase no more.
'' Some clouds of destiny over there.
– Glass of wine, Johnny? – Oh, thank you.
Yes.
Ah, the grape.
The sweet red grape.
Dark andblack.
– Johnny – Black andblack Black! I don't want to die! They wait for me in the forest.
Johnny What's for breakfast, Mother? Maggots on toast? I think we'd better go home now, dear.
(SHRIEKS) Oh! A tree! It's a tree! Good morning, sir.
How are we today? Blooming, thank you.
And you? – Radiant, sir.
Radiant.
– Good, good.
Now, I'm looking for a suit.
Not too formal, not too casual.
Lightweight but not flimsy.
Neutral but not dull.
Ooh! You know your own mind, don't you, sir? – Yes, I suppose I do.
– Oh! A suit, sir.
Suit you.
– Is that all you're after, sir? – Yes.
After all, I have enough socks.
Have you ever thought about going at it with a tranny, sir? A she–male? Ooh! – Why do you ask? – Just as a matter of interest, sir.
I see.
And you? Have you ever sampled the unique delights of a lady–man? – That's none of your business, sir.
– You're quite right.
Now, this suit.
Yes, these were tailored in Thailand, sir.
Anything goes out there, doesn't it, sir? Have you spent much time out there, sir, in Bangkok? – Not now, Kenneth.
He's a live one.
– Sex capital of the world, sir? Don't you feel grubby after a while, sir? Yes, I need cleansing after I've mired myself in the addictive world of pornography, prostitution and perverse sex games.
One almost hates oneself, don't you think? – Well – One needs to reacquaint oneself with the finer things in life, with purity and love and innocence.
Then it's down with the trousers, out with the old chap, and come on, ladies, come on, gentlemen, trannies, fruits of the forest, satyrs, come slide down the greasy pole of my depravity, and I'll bring the chickens! There's someone sitting there, mate.
Hey! Scorchio! Ton nomanazi dominazi communazi kibbutz enunciation categorios presentara meteorologicos esta Willi Woolymann, Bibi e Oh! Esta moi, Poula Fisch! Bono estente.
Meteorologicos hasto Mont Olympicos quartro centrifilipos tora badabada mitri eeny–meeny.
Agrocos parametric bigness and largety anticyclone procyclone hethethetheth.
Coco cyniper bisket.
(GIGGLES) (MAN) Ulrika! Scorchio! E ton victoriosa esta Poula Fisch.
Oh! Mio! Does my bum look big in this?