645 lines
31 KiB
Plaintext
645 lines
31 KiB
Plaintext
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BOTTOM
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by Adrian Edmondson and Rik Mayall
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Series 2, Episode 6
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'S Out
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======
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Richie Rik Mayall
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Eddie Adrian Edmondson
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Mr. Tent Rupert Bates
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Scene 1. Wimbledon Common.
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--------------------------
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[The camera pulls back as Richie and Eddie walk into a litter-strewn corner
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of Wimbledon Common. A sign states "DOGS TOILET". An abandoned shopping
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trolley rusts in a murky pond. Richie is carrying a heavy rucksack with
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various handy gadgets -- a pan, a mallet, and so on -- tied on with string.
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Eddie has a plastic carrier bag.]
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Richie: Hoddll-odll-la-da-da! Oh, I don't know about you, but after a long
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hike like that I'm just about ready to pitch camp and hit the
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sack.
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Eddie: What do you mean? I can just about see the bus-stop from here!
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Richie: Yes, this looks like a good spot, a natural sort of, er...
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Eddie: Shithole.
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Richie: Yeah, shith--no, no, no, no. A natural hollow, in the lee of the
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wind, fresh water supply, the wind coming from... [wets finger
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and holds it in the air] Tshh, choh, dear oh dear oh dear...
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[flaps his hand] You'd think people'd have better control of
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their dogs, wouldn't you? Look at that. [they look downwards;
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their eyes track about a foot sideways] Ha, must've been a Great
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Dane! Oh, we can't camp here, we're not French. Hi-dee-ho, on we
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go, Eddie. No rest for the hygienic. Huh, dear oh dear, who'd be
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English! [takes one big step forward; Eddie looks exasperated]
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Yeah, this is much better here, yeah, much more likely spot.
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[takes his rucksack off] Ah, huh, ha, this is great, isn't it
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Eddie?
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Eddie: What?
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Richie: This... [indicates the location]
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Eddie: [looks around] No.
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Richie: You poor sad deformed urban pustule. This is real life: nature,
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struggle, destiny. Where's your romance?
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Eddie: Well, she works in Sketchley's on a Saturday afternoon. I should
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be going out with her tonight. That's a point. [looks at his
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watch] If I nip off now I could just get to the chemist's before
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they shut. [starts to leave]
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Richie: You stay where you are, Judas. Where's your sense of adventure?
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Eddie: Ah, now, she's in Chiswick.
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Richie: No, I mean your spuuunk? I don't -- no, no, no -- let's just avoid
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that line of questioning, shall we? Oh, come on, Eddie. We don't
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need birds. Besides, if we don't do it, we'll lose that bet with
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Mad Ken Stalin that we could live rough in the country for a week.
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And we haven't got fifty quid, and I'd rather hang on to my knee-
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caps if it's all the same with you.
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Eddie: [alarmed] A week!?
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Richie: Ah, er, yes, huh, ha, hah, I was hoping to break that to you at a
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more opportune moment.
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Eddie: [shouts] A bloody week?
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Richie: Yeah, well I wasn't the one who got drunk and bet him he couldn't
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stick a dart in his temple. Once he'd done that, he had us over a
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barrel.
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Eddie: But I've only got enough underwear for tonight.
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Richie: Well that's all you've ever had.
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Eddie: [thinks momentarily] That's true.
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Richie: Now, look, we're stuck with it, so will you for Heaven's sake stop
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moaning. Come on, let's get the tent up. Honestly, Alexander the
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Great never had this problem.
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Eddie: Yeah, well he wasn't a complete dickhead, was he?
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Richie: Right, that's it. That's it. [fighting stance, palms forwards,
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fingers curled] Ye-es. I've been doing evening classes in
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Jujitsu, you know.
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Eddie: Well you should have done them in Hammersmith, then you could've
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saved money on the bus fares.
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Richie: Ah-hu-ah--ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haah, ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-hah, ha ha ha,
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hey, what great mates we are! [Eddie nods, grins, turns to the
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camera and mimes a wanking motion] Jujitsu, Hammersmith,
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marvellous! Ha! Come on, let's get the tent right up.
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[Eddie makes a suggestive "up" gesture with his forearm; fade down.]
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Scene 2. The Common.
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--------------------
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[Richie is hammering in the final tent-peg. The camera pulls back to reveal
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a tiny, narrow tent, sagging in the middle. Eddie is sitting on a bench
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observing.]
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Eddie: Right, well that's the toilet tent. Where do we sleep?
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Richie: Oh, ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Look out everybody, I'm about to blow
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my trousers off in merriment at Eddie's sarcasm.
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Eddie: What, you mean that's the whole tent?
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Richie: Eddie, this isn't just a tent. This is a World Ranger Storm-Buster
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Four. You could go anywhere in that.
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Eddie: Yeah, and we probably will as soon as the breeze gets up.
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Richie: Hey, hey, don't knock it. You'll be glad of this when the bomb
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drops.
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Eddie: What, you think that's going to withstand a twenty-megaton nuclear
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blast?
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Richie: Well you'll be sleeping in it tonight so we'll find out, won't we?
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Eddie: Wait a minute -- we're both going to sleep in this?
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Richie: Yes.
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Eddie: [inspects it] We'll be very close, won't we?
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Richie: Well, we'll, we'll have our sleeping bags to keep us...
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respectable.
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Eddie: Sleeping bags? What's this all about? The last thing I remember
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was ordering two pints of mild.
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Richie: Well I've got my sleeping bag.
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Eddie: Well where's my sleeping bag?
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Richie: Well the last I heard she was in Chiswick.
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Eddie: So there's only one sleeping bag?
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Richie: It would appear so, yes.
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Eddie: [nods knowingly] Oohh yeah, I get it...
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Richie: Eddie, I'm not trying to trick you into a nudie sauce romp,
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believe me. I'd rather stick my genitals in a bee's nest.
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Eddie: [accusingly] Kinky.
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Richie: What do you mean, kinky? How am I kinky?
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Eddie: You want to stick your genitals in a bee's nest.
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Richie: No I don't, that's the whole point, it's sarcasm, it's, oh... Oh
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look, the point I was trying to make is that though sticking one's
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genitals in a bee's nest is a stupendously un-nice thing to do,
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it's nevertheless preferable to having a squidgy sleeping bag
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session with you! All right? Now can we just get our equipment
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out? Ah, I mean get our, I mean get our tackle out -- no, I mean
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get our gear out -- oh, God, you can't say anything without some
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dreadful double-entendre lurking around the corner. Look, shall we
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just unpack and get dinner on the go, all right? [turns back to
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the camp; suddenly remembers something] Uh, uh... [turns around,
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frustrated expression] I bet you forgot the tin-opener, didn't
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you? I despair, I mean I really do! I give you one simple task,
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one little obligation, and what do you do? You forget it!
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Eddie: Well that's where you're wrong, because... [pulls tins-opener out
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of his bag, waves it tauntingly in Richie's face] Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
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Here it is! ...Right, where are the tins?
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Richie: Shit! Shit! You stupid bastard! Why did you make me forget them?
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Why do I always have to do every-- we're gonna to starve to death
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now. We are going to starve to death.
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Eddie: But look! [slightly smugly] I've got a packet of chocolate hob-
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nobs. [holds them up]
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Richie: [relieved] Oh, thank God. Ah-ha-ha, oh, oh Eddie, we're saved.
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Eddie: What do you mean, "we"? [sits on the bench] I'm all right, I
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don't fancy your chances much. [opens the packet]
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Richie: Oh, have a heart, Eddie. It's your old pal here, Richie.
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Eddie: [stuffing biscuits into his mouth; muffled] Exactly. Bugger off.
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[Richie leans towards the hob-nobs , mouth open. Eddie hits Richie in the
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face. Richie winds up for a swing. Eddie stands up and the punch lands on
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the metal bench-end with a clang. Eddie scrambles into the tent while
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Richie is recovering.]
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Richie: Right. Eddie! [looks around, puzzled] Eddie?
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[Eddie's munching noises give him away. Richie pulls out one of the tent
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poles and whacks and stabs the tent repeatedly. Eddie crawls out without
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Richie noticing. Richie continues to stamp on the tent as Eddie stands by
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watching. Finally he drops the pole and walks away from the tent, rubbing
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his hands together. He notices Eddie; absently they both nod in
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satisfaction.]
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Richie: Huh?
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[Richie grabs for the hob-nobs and a struggle ensues. Eddie pushes him away
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and he falls, spearing his eye on the other tent pole. Eddie stuffs more
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hob-nobs into his mouth. Richie pulls the pole out and turns around,
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winding a punch towards Eddie. He misses, but the hob-nobs are knocked out
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of Eddie's hands. In slow-motion we see the hob-nobs sail through the air
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and land in the foul waters of the pond. Richie carefully lines up a punch
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on Eddie's face; Eddie, still chewing a mouthful of hob-nobs, gives him a
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swift backhander in the groin and an punch on the chin. Richie staggers
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back and punches Eddie, who falls. The hob-nobs slowly sink beneath the
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water.]
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Scene 3. The Common.
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--------------------
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[Eddie and Richie are sitting by a small camp-fire; each holds over it a
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hob-nob on a stick. A row of hob-nobs are pegged out over the fire on a
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tiny washing-line.]
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Richie: What was that film where they ate each other?
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Eddie: Deep Throat, wasn't it?
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Richie: Yeah, that's right...
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Eddie: Yeah.
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Richie: Great, wasn't it?
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Eddie: Hrrrr!
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Richie: Anyway, anyway, back to the question of food.
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Eddie: Oh, yeah... Hang on, this is Wimbledon Common, isn't it?
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Richie: Yeeees...
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Eddie: Hey... I wonder how much meat you get on a Womble?
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Richie: Eddie, Eddie, Wombles don't exist.
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Eddie: [matter-of-factly] Oh yes they do, I've seen them on the telly.
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Richie: [sighs] Eddie, would it scar you for life if I told you they were
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just puppets?
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Eddie: [thinks] Yes it would.
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Richie: Good. [deliberately] Eddie, they were just puppets.
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Eddie: [points behind them, alarmed] Well what's that then?
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Richie: It's a--arrgh! [cut to hedgehog crawling in the grass] Eddie,
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that is a hedgehog.
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Eddie: No, it's not. That is Great Uncle Bulgaria.
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Richie: Well if it's Great Uncle Mulgaria, then the series has taken a sad
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turn for the worse because he's wandering about in the nude.
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Eddie: Hrrr-rr! The Wombles have gone X-rated! Hrrh!
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Richie: Eddie, pop your insane leaking brain back in its sponge-bag for
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just an instant and concentrate. Now, Womble or not, that is our
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supper.
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[They both look at the hedgehog.]
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Eddie: It'll be a bit spiky, won't it?
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Richie: Eddie, Red Indians eat them, y'know.
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Eddie: Why, is that why they run around going ah-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-ow?
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[Indian motion in front of mouth; wrong sound]
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Richie: Eddie, Eddie, you're so soi-disant! Red Native Americans do not
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run around the place going wa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ah. No, it's
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ridiculous. They run around going "How".
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Eddie: I bet they do. I bet they run around going "How... the bloody hell
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are we supposed to eat that spiky hedgehog?"
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Richie: No they do not. They run around the place saying, "How... lovely
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that spiky hedgehog meal was, Mrs. Sitting Bull. We really must do
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the same next Tuesday, it was charming. How's Roger's prep school,
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by the way?"
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Eddie: What the bloody hell are you talking about, you madman?
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Richie: You wouldn't understand, Eddie -- different social strata. Now,
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how are we gonna kill it?
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Eddie: Well, you could bore it to death.
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Richie: Right-oh! Ah--nooo... ah, hmmmm... oh well, it's all academic now,
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he's buggered off. Oh, no! There he is, in the thicket! Right,
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this is it. Uh, okay, right.
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Eddie: Hoh, I know. Let's entice him out with a chocolate hob-nob.
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Richie: Great idea, great idea. And then when he's out in the open, we'll
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surround him and finish him off. Right. So, we need to gather some
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sticks and sort of lash them together to fashion some sort of...
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rifle!
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Eddie: I wonder what the Pygmies do?
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Richie: They wander around saying [looks upwards, squeaky voice]
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"Crikey, isn't everything big?"
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Eddie: It's no wonder they're dying out then, is it?
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Richie: Ha-ha-ha.
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Eddie: Huh--hang on, I've got my darts. Ah, and we can use this [picks
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up the tent pole] as a blow-pipe.
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Richie: Oh yes. Oh Eddie yes. Darts and a blow-pipe -- very rainforest.
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God, I wish Sting was here to see this.
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Eddie: [loads up] Right, here we go. Ahhh...
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Richie: Oh, Eddie, Eddie, hang on. Now listen, if we're going to do this
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really really properly, we're gonna have to have some proper
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Amazon Indian names for ourselves.
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Eddie: Come on, before he goes off to meet Orinoco.
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Richie: Shut up, Eddie, shut up. This is important. Right, now it's got to
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be sort of eagley, with a dash of running dog and not forgetting a
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hint of being a tower of attraction to women.
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Eddie: Hmmm... what about Neville?
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Richie: That is brilliant!
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Eddie: [pleased] Chaaahhh...
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Richie: Running Neville, yeah... no, no, no, no Sitting Neville. No,
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nooooo... Squatting Neville.
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Eddie: Come on, he's getting away.
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Richie: All right, all right, don't hustle me, a-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-
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duh... oh well, I don't like it, but we'll have to go with
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Pocahontos.
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Eddie: All right, Hogateepontas, entice him out.
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Richie: Right. Hey, don't forget to make the noise.
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Eddie: Hahhh.
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[Both run at the thicket, making the Indian noise, then stop
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simultaneously.]
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Richie: Oh, he's buggered off.
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Eddie: [looks behind them] Oh no, there he is, by that tree!
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Richie: Right! Let's go! Ooh, hey Eddie, do you think we should do this in
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our underpants? [Eddie looks slightly puzzled] It would be
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great, it would be really Indiany. We could get some hankies and
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put them down the front and the back like flaps, [mimes
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loincloths] and then-- stupid idea, isn't it? We haven't got any
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hankies. No, hang on, we could use some pages from the Evening
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Standard! They're even bigger! We get a big flap down the front,
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and a big flap down the back, we get our biros out and we doodle
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on our nippl-- [notices Eddie's quizzical expression] Take your
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point, it's a bit chilly, isn't it? [deep voice] Right then,
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let's hunt. Huh! [sweetly; tossing biscuits into the bush] Mrs.
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Tiggywinkle... Mrs. Tiggywinkle... oh, it's not working. [an
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idea] Ha! ...Mr. Tiggywinkle... yum yum... [throws the entire
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packet into the bush] Right, Eddie, he's broken cover. Let 'im
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have it.
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[Eddie puts the blowpipe to his mouth and blows. He runs up to Richie,
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excited.]
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Eddie: Did I get him?
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Richie: No, you missed.
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Eddie: Damn!
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Richie: Eddie me old chum...
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Eddie: Yes, me old mate?
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Richie: Do us a favour and pull this dart out of the back of my head,
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would you?
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[We now see that the dart has lodged in Richie's head.]
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Eddie: All right, me old mucker. Blimey, how'd that get there?
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Richie: I've no idea. [falls to his knees before the camp-fire] Hurry
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along now, I'm losing me eyesight.
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[Eddie twists the dart out. Richie falls face first into the camp fire,
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singing his face. He rushes, yelling, towards the pond and dunks his head
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in. Hiss.]
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Eddie: Richie.
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Richie: Bb-bbb-bbbl?
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Eddie: You've put the fire out now.
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Richie: [gets up] Eddie! There's a fish in there. [kneels on the bank,
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excited; Eddie aims the blowpipe] There he is! Let him have it!
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[Eddie blows again]
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Eddie: Go and get him Richie.
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Richie: No, I think I'll just hang around here on the shore if it's all
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the same with you.
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Eddie: Oh come on, he's only a fish.
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Richie: Yes, I realize that, but unfortunately my hand is now attached to
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this boulder.
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[He lifts his hand to reveal the boulder, pinned to him by the dart. Eddie
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Tries to get the dart out, pulling it sideways with hideous crunching
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noises.]
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Richie: Uuuh... huh... aaargh!
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[Eddie look at Richie's face, contorted with pain, and clicks his teeth
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cheerfully. He twists the dart the other way.]
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Richie: Yuuuuragh!
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[Finally he pulls the dart out. The boulder drops.]
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Richie: Aaargh... [the boulder lands on his foot] Aaaaaaarh! ...Right.
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Give me the blowpipe.
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Eddie: Yep, I'm very sorry Richie.
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Richie: Give me the dart.
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Eddie: Here you go.
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Richie: Right. [loads the dart] Go and stand over there.
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Eddie: Fair enough.
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[Eddie walks to the other side of the clearing. Richie aims, takes a deep
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breath, and sucks in the dart. He drops the pole, clutching at his throat.]
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Richie: Hrrrh -- hh-hh -- h-h-h... [croaks] Slap me!
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Eddie: I beg your pardon?
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Richie: Slap... me!
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Eddie: Oh! I like this game... [slaps him hard in the face]
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Richie: Arrgh, arggh... [points down his throat]
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Eddie: [peers down] Hey, you've got a dart in there, did you know that?
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You... have got a dart... in there!
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Richie: Get it out!
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Eddie: I beg your--I beg your pardon. [folds his hands protectively over
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his crutch]
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Richie: [turns away and bends over, pointing at his back] Get it out!
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Eddie: Kinky!
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Richie: [urgently] The dart!
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Eddie: Oh.
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[Eddie picks up the mallet and hits Richie on the back of the head. The
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dart ricochets off a tree, a traffic cone, the bench, a tin can and finally
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lodges firmly in Richie's bum.]
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Richie: Daaahhhhh! [plucks the dart out and throws it away, splash; high
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croaky voice] I don't think we're really cut out for this dart
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routine, do you? [coughs]
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Eddie: The only thing that's had anything to eat around here is the
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bloody hedgehog. There's only one hob-nob left -- that's 27 hob-
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nobs he's had! It's no wonder he shits like a Great Dane.
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Richie: Hey, Eddie, why don't we have a go at that fish?
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Eddie: But we haven't got a rod.
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Richie: Hrrhh. Hey, why don't we use your vest as a net?
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Eddie: [thinks] Would I have to be in it?
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Richie: Come on, give us the vest.
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[Eddie loosens his belt, grabs his vest and yanks it downwards, magically
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tearing it off from under his shirt. He hands it to Richie.]
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Richie: Hhh, right! Get the stove nice and hot. Stand back Moby, here I
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come!
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[Richie swings the vest around his head and flings it into the pond. Eddie
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tries to work out how to fit the burner to the propane gas canister. Richie
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retrieves the vest.]
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Eddie: Have you caught anything yet?
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Richie: [lifting up a condom] Yes, I think I very probably have caught
|
|
something, Eddie. It's quite a love nest around here, you know.
|
|
|
|
[Eddie punctures the canister; hiss... He sniffs it, pleased, sets it on
|
|
the ground and tosses the burner away. Richie throws the vest again,
|
|
further away this time, looks despairingly at it and wades gingerly into
|
|
the pond. Eddie slaps his pockets in search of matches. Richie suddenly
|
|
notices something floating in the water.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: Oh no! Great! Eddie, I've landed one! She is a beauty! [holds up
|
|
a very small fish, speared with the dart]
|
|
Eddie: Nice one, Richie.
|
|
Richie: Look at 'er. Look at 'er. She must be that big! [holds his arms
|
|
wide apart, the fish still held in his hand] Hoohh, quite the
|
|
little battler, yeah, ha-ha! I'm a--I'm afraid we, we lost the
|
|
vest in the conflict.
|
|
Eddie: [pause] You mean my vest is in the pond...
|
|
Richie: Eh--is the stove lit yet?
|
|
Eddie: Half.
|
|
Richie: Half?
|
|
Eddie: Yeah, you haven't seen the matches anywhere, have you?
|
|
Richie: [searches pockets] Noooo. You could try rubbing the sticks
|
|
together...
|
|
Eddie: Mmmmm. It's a tad more urgent than that.
|
|
Richie: Oh all right. All right, you can use my Briquet. [hands Eddie a
|
|
disposable lighter] But don't keep your finger pressed down for
|
|
longer than a second.
|
|
|
|
[Eddie lights the fire, which shoots eight feet in the air.]
|
|
|
|
Eddie: Stove's lit. [warming his hands]
|
|
Richie: Nice one. Right! Let's get Moby under the grill, I'm famished!
|
|
|
|
[Richie puts Moby on a stick, and holds it in the flames. Moby catches
|
|
fire. Richie waves the stick around trying to put it out. Finally he stamps
|
|
on it. They peer down at the battered remains.]
|
|
|
|
Eddie: Is it done, then?
|
|
Richie: I think so. They don't take long, do they?
|
|
Eddie: What, and we just eat it straight off the ground, do we? Is that
|
|
safe?
|
|
Richie: Oh Eddie, you and your hygiene. We're in the countryside here,
|
|
we've got everything we need. We'll wash it in the lake -- lovely
|
|
fresh mountain stream, then it'll be lovely. [looks down at the
|
|
fish] Yeah, well you pick it up, it's a bit near the dogshit for
|
|
me.
|
|
|
|
[Eddie sighs, scoops up the fish, and swishes it in the pond.]
|
|
|
|
Eddie: Oop, lost a bit. [peers at the charred, muddied fish] Which
|
|
end's the head, do you think?
|
|
Richie: Oh come here, give it to country boy, I'll divide it up. Er, well,
|
|
it's bound to be one or the other, isn't it? Er... [pulls it in
|
|
half] There, heads or tails? No, we can't do that can we? Er, all
|
|
right, I'll have the black bit, you have the flakey bit. Good
|
|
health! [pops the fish in his mouth, chews, nods appreciatively,
|
|
swallows.] That was... disgusting! You not eating yours, Eddie?
|
|
Eddie: No, I'm keeping it.
|
|
Richie: What for?
|
|
Eddie: Evidence.
|
|
|
|
[Eddie takes out a plastic bag and puts the remains of the fish in it.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: Come on Eddie, you've got to get some nutrition.
|
|
Eddie: I'm all right, mate. I've got half a bottle of Scotch here, I know
|
|
who's side I'm on.
|
|
Richie: Oh yeeessss. Let's get boozy and sit around the camp-fire singing
|
|
dirty rugby songs.
|
|
Eddie: Yeah! Right, ha, here we go. [the gas runs out with a dying hiss
|
|
as they sit down] Oh well! First shot to me.
|
|
|
|
[Eddie gulps down the whole bottle and shakes the last few drops into his
|
|
mouth. He hands the empty bottle to Richie.]
|
|
|
|
Eddie: There you go. Ahh... [sways slightly]
|
|
Richie: All right! [puts the bottle to his mouth] Ohhhwowowow, I'm going
|
|
crazy! Okay, dirty rugby songs, let's go! Er, twinkle, twinkle,
|
|
little s--oh, that's not very dirty that one, is it Eddie? Ah...
|
|
Eddie? [Eddie has collapsed] Oh Eddie! Oh, Eddie, don't pass out
|
|
already! [shakes him] You'll miss out on all the fun.
|
|
Eddie: [slurred] What fun?
|
|
Richie: Yes, I suppose that's a point. When you come to think of it,
|
|
nothing much ever really happens in the country, does it?
|
|
|
|
[A flasher, nude but for shoes and a long raincoat, runs up, laughs
|
|
maniacally, opens his raincoat, dances madly in front of them, and runs
|
|
off. Eddie lifts his head, looks at Richie, and flops back down again.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: You wonder why they do it, really, don't you? I mean, with
|
|
something as small as that... I mean, mine's bigger than that and
|
|
mine's tiny! [embarrassed] Ish. Tinyish. [stands up] Oh well.
|
|
Time for bed.
|
|
Eddie: What do you mean, it's only half past five!
|
|
Richie: Oh Eddie, don't be silly, this is the country now, and you know
|
|
what they say. "A cuckoo in May, ooh-arr ooh-arr ay!"
|
|
|
|
[Richie crawls into the tent.]
|
|
Scene 4. The Tent.
|
|
[Night-time. The moon is full. Eddie and Richie are squeezed next to each
|
|
other in the tent. The sign that says "DOGS TOILET" is inside the tent.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: Right. Well. Here we are Edward. You sure you didn't sneak a quick
|
|
peek at my underpants when I was getting into my sleeping bag?
|
|
Eddie: Absolutely Richie. I give you my word of honour. [formally] I
|
|
didn't get even the slightest glimpse of your gaudily stained
|
|
love-blob containers.
|
|
Richie: All right. Good. Well, nighty-night, then... [lies back; looks
|
|
around; somewhat at a loss] What do you normally do when you got
|
|
to bed, Eddie?
|
|
Eddie: I normally have a bit of a kip.
|
|
Richie: You're so concise. I mean, what's your going-to-bed routine?
|
|
Eddie: Ah, routine. Well, I normally... get into bed... and then I have a
|
|
bit of a kip.
|
|
Richie: Wonder what's on telly right now. Probably missing Emmerdale Farm.
|
|
Matt'll have his arm up some cow's backside by now. Lucky bugger.
|
|
Eddie: We'll miss The Late Show of course. Cor, [clicks teeth] that
|
|
bird in the red specs... [puffs appreciatively]
|
|
Richie: Eddie, are you carrying a torch for her?
|
|
Eddie: [looks down] No, it's just the way my trousers ruck up.
|
|
Richie: Oh. [looks around idly; notices Eddie has started reading] What
|
|
are you reading, Eddie?
|
|
Eddie: I don't know, I'm too drunk to focus.
|
|
Richie: [sigh] Bored now... [sigh] You ever been hang-gliding Eddie?
|
|
Eddie: Nope.
|
|
Richie: No, nor me. Well that's exhausted that one, then. Hooh. I can't
|
|
think of anything else to talk about you know--
|
|
Eddie: [forcefully] Well night-night then!
|
|
Richie: Yes, I suppose so.
|
|
Night-night. Sleep tight.
|
|
Hope-the-bed-bugs-do-not-bite.
|
|
If they do, do a poo, put it in a Cornish stew.
|
|
Into the ambulance, dring dring dring,
|
|
Fish trousers elephant in Peking.
|
|
Saw a busy bee, tiddle-diddle-dee,
|
|
Daddy's an accountant just like me.
|
|
Night-night, God bless. [closes eyes]
|
|
[pause; opens eyes] I'm still not asleep you know... You know, I
|
|
think it's this sleeping bag. [wriggles uncomfortably] It's
|
|
letting in a draft.
|
|
Eddie: Oh, my heart bleeds. [indicating his lack of bag]
|
|
Richie: Come on Eddie. I'm more sensitive than you are. Do us a favour, me
|
|
old pal. Grab a hold of my drawstring and give it a bloody good
|
|
yank.
|
|
Eddie: [slightly shocked] I beg your pardon?
|
|
Richie: Here, here.
|
|
Eddie: Oh.
|
|
|
|
[Eddie pulls the string tight around Richie's neck.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: [strangulated] Okay, fine, fine! Good. Right. Night-night, then.
|
|
Mmm... [leans over to kiss Eddie, suddenly realises it's
|
|
inappropriate] Oh, no, no, no! [sighs] Put the light out Eddie,
|
|
would you?
|
|
|
|
[Eddie starts to snore, his book over his face. Richie looks at him
|
|
resignedly.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: Oh... [tries to escape from his bag] Oh my God, I can't get out.
|
|
I'll have to do it meself.
|
|
|
|
[Richie wriggles over to the lamp and tries to blow it out, inching closer
|
|
to it. He falls forward, burning his face on the lamp.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: Aaarh, aaarh! [tries to blow upwards onto his face] Huh--oh,
|
|
God, who'd be me? Haahh. Night-night then world.
|
|
|
|
[He closes his eyes... A storm starts with a clap of thunder and flashes of
|
|
lightning. He sits up, startled, panting slightly. Rain pours down. A
|
|
rather unconvincing owl hoots.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: Eddie, Eddie! There's someone outside, doing owl impressions.
|
|
[owl hoots again] Not very good ones, either. Eddie!
|
|
|
|
[Another thunderclap. Eddie starts thrashing around in his sleep.]
|
|
|
|
Eddie: Daah, daah, daaaaah!
|
|
|
|
[Richie hits him repeatedly with the cooking pot, holding it in his mouth.]
|
|
|
|
Eddie: What are you doing that for? I was having a dream.
|
|
Richie: I know. It sounded harrowing.
|
|
Eddie: No! I was in bed with Kim Basinger. It was fantastic. Let's get
|
|
back to sleep very quickly. [they shut their eyes; Eddie suddenly
|
|
wakes up, yelling] Where the bloody hell am I?!
|
|
Richie: No Eddie, calm down, you're in a tent... you're in a tent.
|
|
[worried] Listen, Eddie, I think there's something outside.
|
|
Eddie: Yeah, well there's bound to be something outside, Richie. You
|
|
can't expect the universe and its entire contents to be contained
|
|
within the confines of a small canvas tent.
|
|
Richie: You're very philosophical for this time of night, Eddie.
|
|
Eddie: Yeah, well I've had half a bottle of Scotch, what do you expect?
|
|
Richie: No, listen! [owl hoots again] No, Eddie, I'm serious. I'm
|
|
getting a sense of something magnificently evil, black, and foul
|
|
hanging in the air waiting to destroy us.
|
|
Eddie: Yeah, that'll be the fish repeating on you. [owl hoots]
|
|
Richie: There it is again... what do you think it is? A wolf? A bear?
|
|
Eddie: Oooh -- Wombles!
|
|
Richie: [alarmed] Wombles! Oh, oh-oh-oh, oo-ooh, oh, look, Eddie, Eddie,
|
|
why don't we bring the fire inside the tent to ward them off?
|
|
Eddie: Well that'd be a bit dangerous, wouldn't it?
|
|
Richie: No, it's gone out.
|
|
Eddie: Well what's the point then?
|
|
Richie: Eh--oh... oh yes, silly me!
|
|
Eddie: Hey, yayayayaya -- why don't we light a small fire inside the
|
|
tent?
|
|
Richie: All right, just a small one.
|
|
Eddie: Oh, you know me. A tiny itsy bitsy teeny one.
|
|
Richie: Good old Eddie.
|
|
Eddie: Now, where's the paraffin? Ahhh... here we go. Ahhh... [starts to
|
|
drink it]
|
|
Richie: No! No, Eddie, don't drink it, we need that!
|
|
Eddie: [shakes the paraffin onto the ground] Now, stand well back.
|
|
Richie: What do you mean, "stand well back"? I can't get out of this
|
|
bloody sleeping bag, can I?
|
|
Eddie: [lighter in hand] Here we go.
|
|
Richie: No--Eddie, change of plan!
|
|
|
|
[Exterior shot. Fire bursts out both ends of the tent.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: [sarcastically] Nice one, Eddie. That should ward 'em off.
|
|
|
|
[Richie and Eddie's faces are burned and red. There is a rumble of thunder;
|
|
a menacing shadow moves across the tent wall.]
|
|
|
|
Richie: Oh! Eddie! Look! Help me get out of this sleeping bag!
|
|
Eddie: There's no time!
|
|
|
|
[Eddie zips down the tent entrance. The zipper is raised slowly from the
|
|
other side. Eddie and Richie cower in abject terror. Our friend, the crazy
|
|
flasher, now totally nude, thrusts his love spuds into the tent, laughing
|
|
hysterically. Eddie and Richie scream. A lot. Eddie zips down the tent
|
|
forcefully. The flasher runs off screaming, dragging the tent with him.
|
|
Richie and Eddie are left in the rain.]
|
|
|
|
Eddie: [understated] Right, well, that's about it for me. I'm off.
|
|
|
|
[Richie tries to inch after him like a worm in his sleeping bag.]
|
|
|
|
Eddie: What, are you not coming?
|
|
Richie: Well I can't, I can't move, can I?
|
|
Eddie: Now that's a point. [picks up the mallet ]
|
|
Richie: Eddie, no!
|
|
|
|
[Eddie whacks him; he falls over. Roll credits.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
Original transcription Melinda & Michelle Casino <casino@pobox.upenn.edu>.
|
|
Edited and updated James Kew <j.kew@ic.ac.uk>. Last revised July 1994.
|
|
|
|
"Bottom -- The Scripts", a BBC book, contains full scripts to
|
|
Series One, including many lines that were cut for transmission.
|
|
Series One and Series Two are available on BBC videos.
|