The Fast Show s03e07 Episode Script
Which Was Nice
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.
and, yea, all the prophecies were fulfilled, and verily black was white, and all the rivers of the world ran with milk and honey and wine, and green were the valleys, and the seraphim lauded the Nazarene on high, and death and war and pestilence and famine and hypocrisy and envy and greed were banished for all eternity .
.
which was nice.
(CAR ACCELERATES) (EXPLOSION) - Right, that's all set.
- Is the stuntman ready? Yes, he's in position.
Now, let me get this right.
My man just jumps through the van window? - Yes.
- Super.
(SHOUTS) The light's going.
We've only got one shot on this.
Danny, the designer needs five minutes to readjust the wire with the washing on it.
Make sure it's five.
Chip, take five.
We need to reset the wire.
Set meself on fire? All right! Yes, well, thank you for that, Chip.
Five past seven.
Tea's up.
I reckon them fashion shows are bloody stupid.
Nobody wears clothes like that in real life, do they? Nobody I know, anyway.
Hello.
Welcome to Cable Sports Live on 1 ''Football in Focus'' with Ron Manager and Tommy Buxton MBE.
Could I have a cup of tea, my darling? I was out with Jimmy Hill last night.
Marvellous, isn't he? Wasn't it? Hmm? - Ron, a lot to look forward to this season.
- (GIGGLES) Any sign of that tea, my love? Two sugars.
Some say I'm sweet enough, but we know the truth, eh, Tommy? - Tommy, turning to you - She's doing it to you now! (GIGGLES) Oh, dear me, no! No, joking aside, love, let's have a cuppa before the anchorman gets here.
Thanks, Ron.
So, to sum up, I - (GIGGLING) - I think that this sea - Here's your coffee, Swiss.
- Thank you, Paul.
Most welcome.
Umph! Oh, no! No, the coffee is quite foul, Paul.
It tastes like the strainings from the devil's jockstrap.
You can't just throw a cup of coffee together.
Making a cup of coffee is like making love to a beautiful woman.
It's got to be hot.
You've got to take your time, stir gently but firmly.
You've got to grind your beans until they squeak.
- And when you put in the milk - Customer, Toni! - You go, Paul.
- Me? - It'll be good training for you.
- It's the first customer since I started.
Yougo.
Thank you.
Thank you.
You've got to get it back, Toni.
You've got to get it back.
The other night, we was in bed, my husband Ken, he got on top of me, I opened my legs, he penetrated me with his phallus.
You know what it was, don't you? We was having sex.
Simple as that.
Wrighty just knocked it in.
Fantastic goal! But the linesman ruled it offside.
Oh, what is offside? Is that when the ball goes off at the side? (LAUGHS MOCKINGLY) Off at the side? Off at the side?! No, no.
Offside iswell, it's offside.
Look, it's simple.
Simple.
Offside.
There has to bea defender between When the ball's kicked forward, there has to be a defender near the attacker, and No, hang on This season I'll be mostly wearing nipple clamps.
We'll be glad of that hot chocolate, Johnny.
Yes, it'll be most welcome.
Did you bring any of those ham sandwiches? Yes.
There was no butter, so I used marge, but that won't matter.
My word! Look at that sky! We must set up quickly and work like demons to get it down.
It really is most impressive.
We could lose it in a moment.
What we should do is just sketch it in for now.
The contrast in it is quite lovely - the whites, theblack.
- Johnny.
- The black The blackness The end! You lock me in the cellar and feed me pins! Pins! Pins! Oh! What's for tea, Mother? Ink stew? I think we'd better be going home now, Johnny.
They're destroying our city! Me, the 13th Duke of Wybourne, here, on a farm, unattended, with my reputation? They must be absolutely stark raving bonkers! - Daisy, Daddy's home! - (MOOING) That Tiger Woods is the dog's bollocks, ain't he? Mixed race, you see.
Part Afro-American, part white, part Dutch and part Vietnamese.
Them four different races have combined to produce the perfect golfer.
And still so young.
Your Afro-American, that's his natural grace if he's drivin'.
The Vietnamese for when he's in the rough.
You got me? All the jungles and that, the tunnels.
The Dutch in him makes him laid-back.
And the white man means he can get on the course in the first place.
Different races have different genes, but it don't always work.
Bloke I know, his old man's German, his mum's Moroccan.
He had a carpet shop.
Well-made but boring patterns.
Another geezer, his old man's a Pygmy, his mum's French.
Brilliant cook but he couldn't reach the stove.
Another geezer, his old man's Russian, his mum's a Swiss Arab.
You used to see him wearing a yashmak, drinking vodka out of a cuckoo clock.
Another geezer, his parents were both French.
He was a c Maintenento eo son ''Ton Cuisina De Mundo'', testa ton kichina Angleterros! (MUSIC: ''KNEES UP, MOTHER BROWN'') Oh, exotica! Mia adora ton kichina Angleterros.
Wheeeey!! Ipse hanoi extrumlicatos skirrip birrit, ecato un ''fry-up''.
Wang-chung, pinero ton saucicons.
Dia ingrediamentos porca, testiclos, scrotal sack - e sawdust.
- Mmm! Bollocks! Maintenento ton bacon, ton ova - batteria - timiton tomarto paton.
Oh, tua dia timitomarto paton, ia dia timitomayto paton! Lastiton, sliced white e finalimento ton fat! Oh! Mio stupido! Nio oublietto ton black pudding.
Oh! E quaton fabricato ton black pudding? Fabricato con blud.
Oh! (LAUGHS) Ney, facto, facto.
Blud clot.
Slap it in! When the ball's kicked forward, the linesman rules offside when the ball is behind the halfway line.
- That doesn't sound right.
- No, you're not listening properly.
Look, it's simple.
When the ball is kicked forward, there must be an attacker near the defender.
No, thatthat's not right.
- Pyramidos ton teabag? - Neh, pyramidos.
Muchy roomy flavour.
- Mmm - Oh! Finito! - Tua especement testagoria? - Neh, neh.
Heeee! Spenk! Mmm! Mmm! (SNORES) .
.
six breasts! (SQUEAKILY) .
.
a long, pointy nose.
.
.
completely covered in hair.
.
.
''Don't point that thing at me,'' she said.
.
.
and then she came.
(MUTTERS) .
.
blew my hat off.
.
.
penicillin.
.
.
Nye Bevan.
(SNORES) (BOTH) Has the money come? - Yes, it's come? - What's a-come? - What's a-go? - What's a-come and a-go! Doh! Why, I oughta! (BOTH) These are for you.
- Thank you.
- This is for you! Doh! Why, I oughta! (BOTH) What's a-come and a-go! Good day.
My name is Gideon Soames.
Today we are in the ruins of a once great monastery, St Bartholomew's, home to the Levantine monks, a rare order, who worshipped a huge ball of string, which was kept in the chapel cloisters.
As an order, they were soap-dodgers, refusing to wash even their hands.
A diary written by one of the monks, Brother Lucius Grubb, has been unearthed and translated from the Latin by some bloke.
I've been lucky enough to obtain certain extracts from the diary, which, with your permission, I shall read.
They're rather higgledy-piggledy, but they do give a fascinating insight into the workings of a 15th-century monastery.
''9th December.
Got up, polished the walls of my cell, ''said prayers to the great string ball.
''I really am beginning to smell.
Ah, bedtime.
''12th December.
Got up, breakfast with Brother Kevin.
''Onion or turnip, that is the question.
''I smell like a dead sheep.
Ah, bedtime.
''15th December.
As we approach the Christian festival, ''we have taken an oath of speaking from the corner of the mouth.
''Ah, bedtime.
''17th December.
Got up, worshipped a great string ball.
''How long is a piece of string? I've no idea.
''Spent nine hours writing one letter in Latin.
Still, there's always bedtime.
''19th December.
Got up Ah, bedtime.
'' That's all I could obtain, but the diary will soon be available from Prentice Books, entitled ''Touching Cloth''.
Hello.
I'm sorry I'm late.
You, er You haven't seen the, um - the, er? - Top-secret microfilm? Yeah, yeah.
I passed it to the Russians last Thursday.
A-ha! Shit.
You want to get the old screwdriver, get it behind there and force the lock up.
No, you'll wreck the door.
Get a coat hanger, then try and pop it up.
Yeah, but there's nothing for it to get hold of.
- Are you in the AA? - No.
- You could smash your window.
- I can't.
Listen, get a tennis ball, cut it in half, put it over the lock, then smash it with your hand, and the air pressure forces the lock up.
There's a sports shop just round the corner.
Oh, I know.
Get a tennis ball, cut it in half, put the half over the lock, give it a tap, and the air pressure pops the lock up.
Bingo.
- There's a sports shop round the corner.
- Brilliant.
Problem solved.
I tell you what, though Umcan any of you actually hear me? - Is it all right if we? - Be my guests.
- Just been to the ballet across the way? - Yes, that's right.
I thought so.
Hardest game in the world, the old ballet game, you know.
It's the competition, you see.
So much of it.
Not to mention the wear on the knees.
A lot of people don't understand that.
I studied under Nureyev, I did.
The master.
30 years, man and boy, I done it.
I had to give it up - very bad back injury from all the lifting and the pirouetting.
Yeah.
Hardest game in the world.
I won my club match on Saturday over the cut.
Sixteen and a half pound of chub I had, on the far bank under the houseboats.
Stan come last.
I very much like the music of Frank Sinatra.
I've got a small dog at home.
I can't bring her out.
She's too sick.
There's someone sitting there, son.
(CHUCKLES) He would carry polished conkers in his many capacious pockets, and these he would distribute to small boys in the parish.
Consequently, when the pubs chucked out of a Friday night, he was regularly beaten senseless.
Wait.
Let me explain this in a way that you'll all understand, yeah? OK? There's the defender, the attacker, the goalie and the ball.
- Now, he passes - I thought you knew about football.
I do! When the ball is passed, there must be an attacker between the defender.
- Between the defender?! - Yes, it's a well-known footballing phrase.
- ''Between''? A footballing phrase? - Yes! - So what does it mean? - Oh, God! Just forget about it! You're not interested in football! God, you're so detached from reality! I'm going to clean my boots.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection Vicar, I could cry! I've made a complete fool of myself with this hat, haven't I? .
.
in sure and certain hope of the resurrection of Our Lord Thing is, I just know it's making me look jowly, isn't it? Come on.
Tell me the truth.
Dressing attractively for a funeral is no joke.
While we're at it, does my bum look big in this suit? Give it a name, brothers and sisters.
Simon Rhodes putting the sound in your head.
Tonight, ''Indie Club'' brings you Colon, the most talked about act since Kurt Cobain did some decorating with a gun and his brain.
Already, the corporate whores of the muSICK biz have their legs wide open, baying for Colon to show them how dangerous music can be.
Like a hand grenade in a convent, no one's heard anything like this before, but, by Christ, it's loud and it's dangerous.
See them tonight at the Dublin Castle.
£3.
50 on the door or £3 concessions - the only concession Colon will make, because they'd rather die than compromise.
Everything you know is wrong, because Colon are here.
Give it up for Colon with ''Kick In The Sun''.
(JANGLY MELODIC POP) Nancy, I fancy I'm falling in love with you I hope that you understand I just wanna hold your hand The world is such a big, big place And you make it a little bigger You've got such a nice face And you've also got a nice figure The sun is shining, baby, baby Let's go and have some fun - # Have some fun, baby - # The sun is shining, baby # Hello, dear.
How's it going? Nearly done.
Did you get the things for the party, the beer, the crisps and the nuts? Even better than that.
I got a soil pH testing kit, some silly sweets and a crab knife! Are you enjoying the trousers, sir? Yes, they're very comfortable.
They're just a little long.
Suit you, sir.
Oh! Step over here, would you, sir? See the X on the floor.
X marks the spot, doesn't it, sir? Suit you.
Turn round this way, sir.
Face this way.
That's right, sir.
- Not nervous, are you, sir? - Um No.
- Good.
Put your hands in your pockets - Right.
.
.
and have a good jiggle about, sir.
- Go on, fiddle, sir! - Manhandle your man-handle, sir.
- Oh, suit you! - Suit you, sir.
- I'm not sure I - Come on, sir.
We all like a good rummage.
Some days it's essential, isn't it, sir, a spot of genital husbandry? - I don't think that's necessary - It's the only way, sir.
See if they're comfy, if there's room for manoeuvre, sir.
- Trust us - .
.
we're tailors.
- OK.
- Go on, sir, stir that soup.
That's it.
Don't be shy, sir.
Blimey! It's like the World Snooker Championships in there.
- Go on, sir.
Rearrange the three-piece.
- Right.
- Ring those bells.
- Manipulate the meat and two veg.
Juggle those plums! Ooh! Suit you, sir! - We did video that, sir.
- You what? We videoed it.
Not that we would show it in a shop window on the high street.
A busy high street, where it might attract the attention of friends, family, colleagues.
Would you like to open an account, and we'll say no more? - I'll fetch the easy-to-complete paperwork.
- Suit you! Right.
Now we're going to have some fun.
Quail, go! Just look at him go! He's enjoying this as much as you are.
He's loving showing off his skills and hoping to beat his record of 36 seconds.
I gotta go.
What's a-come, what's a-go? I got an important date (BABBLES QUICKLY) - Who are you and who are you? - What's a-come and a-go? She go, I come.
What's that for? - (CLUNK!) - What's a-come and a-go? #By a moonlight shadow #He passed on worried and warning # Carried away by a moonlight shadow #Lost in a river that Saturday # How you doin'? Dave Angel here.
I'm here with a few of me new pals - Smudge, Tofu, Roadkill and Arabella.
They're protestin' about the construction of a brand new motorway, which is being built in one of the oldest forests in England - Charney Wood, to be exact.
It's a beautiful spot.
People have been coming here for over a hundred years to picnic, play simple games or walk hand in hand with their nearest and dearest.
They want to bulldoze it all away.
- You tell 'em, Dave.
- Take your hands off me, you freak! Meanwhile, below the surface of the ground, there are 30 more people just like us tunnelling their way to a greener future.
What's that? Oh, for cryin' out loud.
Shirley Oh, for gawd's sake, what's she doin' now? Shirley! You can't park on someone's tent! (TV) .
.
from the well to the refinery is high.
The power source has got to be reliable.
Failure can't be tolerated.
Oil which isn't pumped today is lost for ever and supertankers can't be kept waiting.
(DOG YAPS) (HILLBILLY ACCENT) Lawks a-lordy! What is it, boy? What's that you say? There's something outside? Best get my hat.
(CRICKETS CHIRRUP) Doh! There ain't nothin' out there, boy.
Yuk-yuk-yuk! ''You're my friend.
'' (GUFFAWS) Well, little fella, you're my friend also, boy.
Yuk-yuk! Hiya, love.
Oh! (SINGS) # Johnny Giles, Johnny Giles, Johnny Giles Johnny Giles, Johnny Giles, Johnny Giles, That's £2.
58, love.
(INCREDIBLY POSH) Hello, you simple Northern folk! We're Cockneys! Yes! East End born and bred.
We love our old mums.
Hello.
Have you any jellied eels? Ha-ha! That's right, Cockneys! We're hard as nails, but loveable and cheeky with it.
I say! You there, that fellow.
You're an absolute shower! - Are you looking at my lady? - Leave it.
We don't want any trouble! (EQUALLY POSH) That's all right, pet.
We can handle ourselves.
We're Geordies, divn't you knaa? - Put 'em up, you Northern scum.
- Hadaway and shite, you soft southern puffs.
I'll have no rumpus in here.
- Shake on it.
- Whay-aye, man.
(EQUALLY POSH) Check me one time, whitey.
I'm a Yardie.
From the Yard in a Kingston stylee.
You know, Kingston in Richmond-Upon-Thames.
You, rass-clart, Pimms all round.
Quick! Quick! Er, yes, Mr Uckyourself.
Yes.
Yes, I'll tell him.
Not Keith Uckyourself.
What does that prat want? He's popping in about the new letterheads.
Letterheads, betterheads, better dead than letterheads! Right, batten down the hatches and whistle down the witches.
Right, I'll rattle down the latches.
- Oh! Touché, Doreen.
- A-ha! Morning tiddly-orning! (BLOWS RASPBERRY) Ooh, pardon me! Ah, Doreen, will you marry me .
.
to Pamela Anderson? Colin, this office isn't big enough for the both of us.
Ah, how does he do it? No hard feelings, Colin.
(BLOWS RASPBERRY) - Oh! - About this letterhead, Keith.
Pish, tush and fie, sir! Ha-ha! Little Ern! Tiggerth! Brr! Brr! (AS BELA LUGOSI) Listen to the children of the night! Look out, Colin! Ha! Fishes in the sea, bobbing along, bobbing along Oh, what a lovely pet.
Aah.
Aagh! Aagh! (HUMS EASTERN TUNE) Aagh! Aagh! Ah, grasshopper! How many fingers am I holding up? Very amusing, Keith, but I am rather busy.
Ooh-ooh! Get Hancock over here.
All right.
Point taken.
Message received and understood.
Jawohl, mein Führer! Colin, just have a look at these designs and see what takes your fancy.
- Thank you, Keith.
- Thank you.
(AS COWBOY) Mornin' to you, ma'am.
Oh, Lord spare us from office jokers, Doreen.
Get in there! Get in! Quail! Quail, go! Go! Will you go? Go on, Quail, go! Quail, get up!
.
and, yea, all the prophecies were fulfilled, and verily black was white, and all the rivers of the world ran with milk and honey and wine, and green were the valleys, and the seraphim lauded the Nazarene on high, and death and war and pestilence and famine and hypocrisy and envy and greed were banished for all eternity .
.
which was nice.
(CAR ACCELERATES) (EXPLOSION) - Right, that's all set.
- Is the stuntman ready? Yes, he's in position.
Now, let me get this right.
My man just jumps through the van window? - Yes.
- Super.
(SHOUTS) The light's going.
We've only got one shot on this.
Danny, the designer needs five minutes to readjust the wire with the washing on it.
Make sure it's five.
Chip, take five.
We need to reset the wire.
Set meself on fire? All right! Yes, well, thank you for that, Chip.
Five past seven.
Tea's up.
I reckon them fashion shows are bloody stupid.
Nobody wears clothes like that in real life, do they? Nobody I know, anyway.
Hello.
Welcome to Cable Sports Live on 1 ''Football in Focus'' with Ron Manager and Tommy Buxton MBE.
Could I have a cup of tea, my darling? I was out with Jimmy Hill last night.
Marvellous, isn't he? Wasn't it? Hmm? - Ron, a lot to look forward to this season.
- (GIGGLES) Any sign of that tea, my love? Two sugars.
Some say I'm sweet enough, but we know the truth, eh, Tommy? - Tommy, turning to you - She's doing it to you now! (GIGGLES) Oh, dear me, no! No, joking aside, love, let's have a cuppa before the anchorman gets here.
Thanks, Ron.
So, to sum up, I - (GIGGLING) - I think that this sea - Here's your coffee, Swiss.
- Thank you, Paul.
Most welcome.
Umph! Oh, no! No, the coffee is quite foul, Paul.
It tastes like the strainings from the devil's jockstrap.
You can't just throw a cup of coffee together.
Making a cup of coffee is like making love to a beautiful woman.
It's got to be hot.
You've got to take your time, stir gently but firmly.
You've got to grind your beans until they squeak.
- And when you put in the milk - Customer, Toni! - You go, Paul.
- Me? - It'll be good training for you.
- It's the first customer since I started.
Yougo.
Thank you.
Thank you.
You've got to get it back, Toni.
You've got to get it back.
The other night, we was in bed, my husband Ken, he got on top of me, I opened my legs, he penetrated me with his phallus.
You know what it was, don't you? We was having sex.
Simple as that.
Wrighty just knocked it in.
Fantastic goal! But the linesman ruled it offside.
Oh, what is offside? Is that when the ball goes off at the side? (LAUGHS MOCKINGLY) Off at the side? Off at the side?! No, no.
Offside iswell, it's offside.
Look, it's simple.
Simple.
Offside.
There has to bea defender between When the ball's kicked forward, there has to be a defender near the attacker, and No, hang on This season I'll be mostly wearing nipple clamps.
We'll be glad of that hot chocolate, Johnny.
Yes, it'll be most welcome.
Did you bring any of those ham sandwiches? Yes.
There was no butter, so I used marge, but that won't matter.
My word! Look at that sky! We must set up quickly and work like demons to get it down.
It really is most impressive.
We could lose it in a moment.
What we should do is just sketch it in for now.
The contrast in it is quite lovely - the whites, theblack.
- Johnny.
- The black The blackness The end! You lock me in the cellar and feed me pins! Pins! Pins! Oh! What's for tea, Mother? Ink stew? I think we'd better be going home now, Johnny.
They're destroying our city! Me, the 13th Duke of Wybourne, here, on a farm, unattended, with my reputation? They must be absolutely stark raving bonkers! - Daisy, Daddy's home! - (MOOING) That Tiger Woods is the dog's bollocks, ain't he? Mixed race, you see.
Part Afro-American, part white, part Dutch and part Vietnamese.
Them four different races have combined to produce the perfect golfer.
And still so young.
Your Afro-American, that's his natural grace if he's drivin'.
The Vietnamese for when he's in the rough.
You got me? All the jungles and that, the tunnels.
The Dutch in him makes him laid-back.
And the white man means he can get on the course in the first place.
Different races have different genes, but it don't always work.
Bloke I know, his old man's German, his mum's Moroccan.
He had a carpet shop.
Well-made but boring patterns.
Another geezer, his old man's a Pygmy, his mum's French.
Brilliant cook but he couldn't reach the stove.
Another geezer, his old man's Russian, his mum's a Swiss Arab.
You used to see him wearing a yashmak, drinking vodka out of a cuckoo clock.
Another geezer, his parents were both French.
He was a c Maintenento eo son ''Ton Cuisina De Mundo'', testa ton kichina Angleterros! (MUSIC: ''KNEES UP, MOTHER BROWN'') Oh, exotica! Mia adora ton kichina Angleterros.
Wheeeey!! Ipse hanoi extrumlicatos skirrip birrit, ecato un ''fry-up''.
Wang-chung, pinero ton saucicons.
Dia ingrediamentos porca, testiclos, scrotal sack - e sawdust.
- Mmm! Bollocks! Maintenento ton bacon, ton ova - batteria - timiton tomarto paton.
Oh, tua dia timitomarto paton, ia dia timitomayto paton! Lastiton, sliced white e finalimento ton fat! Oh! Mio stupido! Nio oublietto ton black pudding.
Oh! E quaton fabricato ton black pudding? Fabricato con blud.
Oh! (LAUGHS) Ney, facto, facto.
Blud clot.
Slap it in! When the ball's kicked forward, the linesman rules offside when the ball is behind the halfway line.
- That doesn't sound right.
- No, you're not listening properly.
Look, it's simple.
When the ball is kicked forward, there must be an attacker near the defender.
No, thatthat's not right.
- Pyramidos ton teabag? - Neh, pyramidos.
Muchy roomy flavour.
- Mmm - Oh! Finito! - Tua especement testagoria? - Neh, neh.
Heeee! Spenk! Mmm! Mmm! (SNORES) .
.
six breasts! (SQUEAKILY) .
.
a long, pointy nose.
.
.
completely covered in hair.
.
.
''Don't point that thing at me,'' she said.
.
.
and then she came.
(MUTTERS) .
.
blew my hat off.
.
.
penicillin.
.
.
Nye Bevan.
(SNORES) (BOTH) Has the money come? - Yes, it's come? - What's a-come? - What's a-go? - What's a-come and a-go! Doh! Why, I oughta! (BOTH) These are for you.
- Thank you.
- This is for you! Doh! Why, I oughta! (BOTH) What's a-come and a-go! Good day.
My name is Gideon Soames.
Today we are in the ruins of a once great monastery, St Bartholomew's, home to the Levantine monks, a rare order, who worshipped a huge ball of string, which was kept in the chapel cloisters.
As an order, they were soap-dodgers, refusing to wash even their hands.
A diary written by one of the monks, Brother Lucius Grubb, has been unearthed and translated from the Latin by some bloke.
I've been lucky enough to obtain certain extracts from the diary, which, with your permission, I shall read.
They're rather higgledy-piggledy, but they do give a fascinating insight into the workings of a 15th-century monastery.
''9th December.
Got up, polished the walls of my cell, ''said prayers to the great string ball.
''I really am beginning to smell.
Ah, bedtime.
''12th December.
Got up, breakfast with Brother Kevin.
''Onion or turnip, that is the question.
''I smell like a dead sheep.
Ah, bedtime.
''15th December.
As we approach the Christian festival, ''we have taken an oath of speaking from the corner of the mouth.
''Ah, bedtime.
''17th December.
Got up, worshipped a great string ball.
''How long is a piece of string? I've no idea.
''Spent nine hours writing one letter in Latin.
Still, there's always bedtime.
''19th December.
Got up Ah, bedtime.
'' That's all I could obtain, but the diary will soon be available from Prentice Books, entitled ''Touching Cloth''.
Hello.
I'm sorry I'm late.
You, er You haven't seen the, um - the, er? - Top-secret microfilm? Yeah, yeah.
I passed it to the Russians last Thursday.
A-ha! Shit.
You want to get the old screwdriver, get it behind there and force the lock up.
No, you'll wreck the door.
Get a coat hanger, then try and pop it up.
Yeah, but there's nothing for it to get hold of.
- Are you in the AA? - No.
- You could smash your window.
- I can't.
Listen, get a tennis ball, cut it in half, put it over the lock, then smash it with your hand, and the air pressure forces the lock up.
There's a sports shop just round the corner.
Oh, I know.
Get a tennis ball, cut it in half, put the half over the lock, give it a tap, and the air pressure pops the lock up.
Bingo.
- There's a sports shop round the corner.
- Brilliant.
Problem solved.
I tell you what, though Umcan any of you actually hear me? - Is it all right if we? - Be my guests.
- Just been to the ballet across the way? - Yes, that's right.
I thought so.
Hardest game in the world, the old ballet game, you know.
It's the competition, you see.
So much of it.
Not to mention the wear on the knees.
A lot of people don't understand that.
I studied under Nureyev, I did.
The master.
30 years, man and boy, I done it.
I had to give it up - very bad back injury from all the lifting and the pirouetting.
Yeah.
Hardest game in the world.
I won my club match on Saturday over the cut.
Sixteen and a half pound of chub I had, on the far bank under the houseboats.
Stan come last.
I very much like the music of Frank Sinatra.
I've got a small dog at home.
I can't bring her out.
She's too sick.
There's someone sitting there, son.
(CHUCKLES) He would carry polished conkers in his many capacious pockets, and these he would distribute to small boys in the parish.
Consequently, when the pubs chucked out of a Friday night, he was regularly beaten senseless.
Wait.
Let me explain this in a way that you'll all understand, yeah? OK? There's the defender, the attacker, the goalie and the ball.
- Now, he passes - I thought you knew about football.
I do! When the ball is passed, there must be an attacker between the defender.
- Between the defender?! - Yes, it's a well-known footballing phrase.
- ''Between''? A footballing phrase? - Yes! - So what does it mean? - Oh, God! Just forget about it! You're not interested in football! God, you're so detached from reality! I'm going to clean my boots.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection Vicar, I could cry! I've made a complete fool of myself with this hat, haven't I? .
.
in sure and certain hope of the resurrection of Our Lord Thing is, I just know it's making me look jowly, isn't it? Come on.
Tell me the truth.
Dressing attractively for a funeral is no joke.
While we're at it, does my bum look big in this suit? Give it a name, brothers and sisters.
Simon Rhodes putting the sound in your head.
Tonight, ''Indie Club'' brings you Colon, the most talked about act since Kurt Cobain did some decorating with a gun and his brain.
Already, the corporate whores of the muSICK biz have their legs wide open, baying for Colon to show them how dangerous music can be.
Like a hand grenade in a convent, no one's heard anything like this before, but, by Christ, it's loud and it's dangerous.
See them tonight at the Dublin Castle.
£3.
50 on the door or £3 concessions - the only concession Colon will make, because they'd rather die than compromise.
Everything you know is wrong, because Colon are here.
Give it up for Colon with ''Kick In The Sun''.
(JANGLY MELODIC POP) Nancy, I fancy I'm falling in love with you I hope that you understand I just wanna hold your hand The world is such a big, big place And you make it a little bigger You've got such a nice face And you've also got a nice figure The sun is shining, baby, baby Let's go and have some fun - # Have some fun, baby - # The sun is shining, baby # Hello, dear.
How's it going? Nearly done.
Did you get the things for the party, the beer, the crisps and the nuts? Even better than that.
I got a soil pH testing kit, some silly sweets and a crab knife! Are you enjoying the trousers, sir? Yes, they're very comfortable.
They're just a little long.
Suit you, sir.
Oh! Step over here, would you, sir? See the X on the floor.
X marks the spot, doesn't it, sir? Suit you.
Turn round this way, sir.
Face this way.
That's right, sir.
- Not nervous, are you, sir? - Um No.
- Good.
Put your hands in your pockets - Right.
.
.
and have a good jiggle about, sir.
- Go on, fiddle, sir! - Manhandle your man-handle, sir.
- Oh, suit you! - Suit you, sir.
- I'm not sure I - Come on, sir.
We all like a good rummage.
Some days it's essential, isn't it, sir, a spot of genital husbandry? - I don't think that's necessary - It's the only way, sir.
See if they're comfy, if there's room for manoeuvre, sir.
- Trust us - .
.
we're tailors.
- OK.
- Go on, sir, stir that soup.
That's it.
Don't be shy, sir.
Blimey! It's like the World Snooker Championships in there.
- Go on, sir.
Rearrange the three-piece.
- Right.
- Ring those bells.
- Manipulate the meat and two veg.
Juggle those plums! Ooh! Suit you, sir! - We did video that, sir.
- You what? We videoed it.
Not that we would show it in a shop window on the high street.
A busy high street, where it might attract the attention of friends, family, colleagues.
Would you like to open an account, and we'll say no more? - I'll fetch the easy-to-complete paperwork.
- Suit you! Right.
Now we're going to have some fun.
Quail, go! Just look at him go! He's enjoying this as much as you are.
He's loving showing off his skills and hoping to beat his record of 36 seconds.
I gotta go.
What's a-come, what's a-go? I got an important date (BABBLES QUICKLY) - Who are you and who are you? - What's a-come and a-go? She go, I come.
What's that for? - (CLUNK!) - What's a-come and a-go? #By a moonlight shadow #He passed on worried and warning # Carried away by a moonlight shadow #Lost in a river that Saturday # How you doin'? Dave Angel here.
I'm here with a few of me new pals - Smudge, Tofu, Roadkill and Arabella.
They're protestin' about the construction of a brand new motorway, which is being built in one of the oldest forests in England - Charney Wood, to be exact.
It's a beautiful spot.
People have been coming here for over a hundred years to picnic, play simple games or walk hand in hand with their nearest and dearest.
They want to bulldoze it all away.
- You tell 'em, Dave.
- Take your hands off me, you freak! Meanwhile, below the surface of the ground, there are 30 more people just like us tunnelling their way to a greener future.
What's that? Oh, for cryin' out loud.
Shirley Oh, for gawd's sake, what's she doin' now? Shirley! You can't park on someone's tent! (TV) .
.
from the well to the refinery is high.
The power source has got to be reliable.
Failure can't be tolerated.
Oil which isn't pumped today is lost for ever and supertankers can't be kept waiting.
(DOG YAPS) (HILLBILLY ACCENT) Lawks a-lordy! What is it, boy? What's that you say? There's something outside? Best get my hat.
(CRICKETS CHIRRUP) Doh! There ain't nothin' out there, boy.
Yuk-yuk-yuk! ''You're my friend.
'' (GUFFAWS) Well, little fella, you're my friend also, boy.
Yuk-yuk! Hiya, love.
Oh! (SINGS) # Johnny Giles, Johnny Giles, Johnny Giles Johnny Giles, Johnny Giles, Johnny Giles, That's £2.
58, love.
(INCREDIBLY POSH) Hello, you simple Northern folk! We're Cockneys! Yes! East End born and bred.
We love our old mums.
Hello.
Have you any jellied eels? Ha-ha! That's right, Cockneys! We're hard as nails, but loveable and cheeky with it.
I say! You there, that fellow.
You're an absolute shower! - Are you looking at my lady? - Leave it.
We don't want any trouble! (EQUALLY POSH) That's all right, pet.
We can handle ourselves.
We're Geordies, divn't you knaa? - Put 'em up, you Northern scum.
- Hadaway and shite, you soft southern puffs.
I'll have no rumpus in here.
- Shake on it.
- Whay-aye, man.
(EQUALLY POSH) Check me one time, whitey.
I'm a Yardie.
From the Yard in a Kingston stylee.
You know, Kingston in Richmond-Upon-Thames.
You, rass-clart, Pimms all round.
Quick! Quick! Er, yes, Mr Uckyourself.
Yes.
Yes, I'll tell him.
Not Keith Uckyourself.
What does that prat want? He's popping in about the new letterheads.
Letterheads, betterheads, better dead than letterheads! Right, batten down the hatches and whistle down the witches.
Right, I'll rattle down the latches.
- Oh! Touché, Doreen.
- A-ha! Morning tiddly-orning! (BLOWS RASPBERRY) Ooh, pardon me! Ah, Doreen, will you marry me .
.
to Pamela Anderson? Colin, this office isn't big enough for the both of us.
Ah, how does he do it? No hard feelings, Colin.
(BLOWS RASPBERRY) - Oh! - About this letterhead, Keith.
Pish, tush and fie, sir! Ha-ha! Little Ern! Tiggerth! Brr! Brr! (AS BELA LUGOSI) Listen to the children of the night! Look out, Colin! Ha! Fishes in the sea, bobbing along, bobbing along Oh, what a lovely pet.
Aah.
Aagh! Aagh! (HUMS EASTERN TUNE) Aagh! Aagh! Ah, grasshopper! How many fingers am I holding up? Very amusing, Keith, but I am rather busy.
Ooh-ooh! Get Hancock over here.
All right.
Point taken.
Message received and understood.
Jawohl, mein Führer! Colin, just have a look at these designs and see what takes your fancy.
- Thank you, Keith.
- Thank you.
(AS COWBOY) Mornin' to you, ma'am.
Oh, Lord spare us from office jokers, Doreen.
Get in there! Get in! Quail! Quail, go! Go! Will you go? Go on, Quail, go! Quail, get up!