Vacuuming Completely Nude in Paradise (2001) - full transcript
Pete has recently got a new job as a vacuum cleaner salesman. His mentor is the veteran Tommy, whose methods are rather rude; his sole target is to be the best salesman in his team and to receive the "Golden Hoover". Their temperaments are quite different and the apprentice days turn wilder and wilder.
(CROWD CHEERING)
(UPBEAT MUSIC PLAYING)
It's Throat's last day.
-Retiring?
-Dying.
He's only got two
weeks to live.
Can't sell any more.
Voice gone.
Upset because he wanted
to die on the knocker.
There goes a salesman!
-Are you a manager, then?
-I do the music.
-She's me girlfriend.
-Don't you mind?
I want her to stop,
but I can't find work.
-What do you do?
-Mix music.
Lot of call
for that kind of work, then?
No, it's an interest.
(EXCLAIMING)
You'll have to
support her, son.
What about selling?
Look at me.
I made it
and I've got a glass eye.
Come on. Show it to me!
(CROWD JEERING)
All right.
All right. Bloody hell!
I'll take me bra off.
(CHEERING AND WHISTLING)
Fuck off with that!
Get off me! Don't touch me.
Let go of me hair,
you bastards!
MAN: Thank you!
Quiet, please!
Thank you, my dear.
And thank you
to the generous soul
who booked this striptease
telegram for Throat.
(CHEERING)
We will all miss you, sir.
-Well, now...
-Get any coin we're owed
and get out of here.
I'm black and bloody
blue from these bastards!
MR RON:
Needs have been shared.
The week is nearly through.
All that's left now is for
me to say a few words.
(SCATTERED APPLAUSE)
You have a floodlight inside.
It is as big as your body.
And when you think
you're through, and
you've done enough,
there is the trigger
to turn it on.
And bam! Take them by
surprise, dazzle their eyes,
they will stand in your beam
and they will buy.
(CROWD EXCLAIMING)
You have a purpose.
You have a mission.
Your next sale is lying
there behind every
"no, thank you" you receive.
Like a diamond, it is there,
waiting, glinting.
See it!
Reach for it!
Have it! Go for it!
You can do it!
You can do it
because you are salesmen!
(CHEERING)
As you know, the companies
have thrust us up to our
elbows in a treasure chest,
an outstanding product,
unrivalled commission
packages and now...
And now they are pouring
prizes upon our heads.
I'm talking top salesman,
the two-week booty
in Benidorm.
(CHEERING)
The Golden...
The Golden Vac!
Speed on, come through,
roll out those vacs.
-What are we in?
-ALL: The greatest
game on earth!
You got it! You got it!
High-five me!
(ALL CHEERING)
We are in! We are in!
We are in! We are in!
(CHEERING SUBSIDES)
He's dead.
(HONKING CONTINUOUSLY)
I'm sick of this job.
Sick of it!
Well, you don't have
to do it no more.
What are you gobbing on
about now?
-You don't have to do
this kind of work no more.
-Oh, no.
No, no, no, not this again.
You're off in your own little
world, aren't you? Hi-fi head.
Where's the coin
coming from, eh?
-I said I'd stop when
you got a job.
-I got one.
Oh, I don't mean mixing
cassettes for the teenagers
down the lane.
It's not, no.
I've got meself a job.
(MUSIC PLAYING)
See what it can do.
We're hardly attached.
It's got a mind of its own,
this little rascal.
Watch it go, light.
Light...
Light as a long balloon.
-PETE: He can't hold it,
Tommy.
-What!
-He can't. It's his
hand, it's withered.
-No, but she can, can't she?
Go on. Sit down.
Sit down. Go on.
Go on. You've worked hard.
You deserve it. Sit down.
Have a bit of cake,
finish your tea.
There now.
Easy.
But light, hmm?
Light, you'll agree?
And yet, it's got a power
of a suck on it, too!
Turn it up full, you'll have
Australian shoes
in your living room before
you know where you are!
Not only that, it'll do your
furniture, your curtains,
your ceilings, your corners,
under the cooker,
over the door.
Crevices cringe and cry when
they see this coming.
I couldn't say that again.
Wouldn't try, not with
my teeth. (CHUCKLING)
No, it'll do you
the absolute lot, this.
Mr and Mrs Tucker. If I may,
Lorna and Edward...
If I may, Lo and Ted. Have it.
Possess it. Go on.
You know you want it.
-We likes it.
-We can't afford it.
Can't afford it?
Can't afford it?
Don't give me that!
You can if I lob 100 off.
No, no, no, no, no!
Don't agree yet.
Do not agree yet.
Because I really, really want
you to have this machine,
I'm gonna swallow,
I'm gonna lose.
I'm gonna take it and gonna
lobe another 50 off,
so you can get out
and get yourselves
a slap-up meal on me.
-Ta.
-Sign here.
I'm not going till you do.
There! 'Tis yours.
Beauty, isn't it?
Huh? Leave it there in
the middle of the room.
Look at it awhile
before you use it.
Ta-ra. I must dash.
-Ta-ra.
-Ta-ra.
(DOOR SHUTS)
Listen, you, never,
never interfere when
I'm selling, right?
-He couldn't hold it.
-He had another hand,
didn't he?
-No.
-Well, he can shove it
up his fucking arse!
I don't care.
We're moving vacs here, pal.
-Not doing physiotherapy
on him, okay?
-Okay.
"He can't hold it!", told me.
When I'm on me first round,
if I'd come in
with piss like that,
the old salesman I was with
would have choked me outside
and kicked me hard in the face
and he'd be bang on right
for doing it and all.
Lesson number one, laddie boy.
If they waver, see to the
dithering bastards don't give
'em no quarter.
Here, let's have something
for the road, in there.
-Do you live in here?
-Usually, yeah. Here,
pass me that there.
Oh, right.
-Got to, if you wanna
be number one.
-You sleep in here all time?
No.
Sometimes a motel or Ruby's.
-Who's Ruby?
-You are new, aren't you?
Ruby, the showroom slag.
Here, pass me that Puffa
Puffa Rice. Quickly!
Rule number two.
Always start the day...
(MUNCHING) With
a good breakfast.
(ENGINE REVVING)
(TYRES SCREECHING)
-(SPITS)
-No, thanks.
-What, you don't like
one of a morning?
-I don't smoke.
-What are you, a fucking
health freak, or what?
-No.
-What, you don't smoke?
-No.
You'll have to give that up.
(HORN BLARING)
(CHUCKLING)
What's your favourite
football team?
Who's your favourite Page 3?
What do you like, then?
Dance music.
I don't play, I just like...
Like mixing a bit.
-Tell me something, er...
What's your name?
-Pete.
Pete. Tell me something,
Pete, how'd you come
for this job, you?
I was at your office meeting
with me girlfriend.
Weren't you there?
Tommy don't go
to them, too busy selling
to listen to losers
get pissed and
talk about selling.
-Anyway, they all fucking
hate me, there.
-I met Sidney there...
-Oh, say no more.
Press-gang Sid.
-It was the night Throat died.
-Throat died? I didn't know.
Did he leave any leads?
-I...
Oh, too late. Those jackals
will be going through his
stuff, even as we speak.
He was almost gone
when they took him on,
desperate bastard,
no other company would've
touched him in that state.
He was selling by mime
in the fucking end!
Listen, er... Pete, I don't
want to disillusion you, mate,
-they'll take on any twat
and I mean any twat.
-Oh.
Train 'em for two days,
if they don't perform,
twat 'em off by Twatday.
Oh, not me. I'm gonna make
a real go at this.
-Oh, aye.
-It's the greatest game going.
-(EXCLAIMING)
-(BLOWING HORN REPEATEDLY)
Fucking hell!
(TYRES SCREECHING)
-You stinking piece of
tiny stinking...
-Fucking asshole!
Yeah, and the same to you,
you fucking bum bandit!
There's nothing like
a bit of road rage to
get you going of a morn.
(COUGHING)
Better than caffeine!
-So you've got a bride, then?
-Eh?
-Girlfriend you said.
-Oh, yeah, Sheila.
-What does she do, then?
-Eh?
-The bride!
-Nothing.
-Nowt?
-Yeah.
-Oh, sponger.
-No, no. She was the
one who was working.
-What did she do?
-Stripogram.
-Eh?
-Stripogram.
Thought that's what you said.
Fuck me! A stripper!
-Stripogram.
-Got a picture?
-No.
-Stripper, eh?
French maid?
Traffic warden? St Trinian's?
Fucking nice!
-Quick pit stop.
-Eh?
-Me flat.
-Your... I thought you...
I don't fucking sleep
there. It stinks.
Come in. Make yourself
at home. Here, have a toss.
(MOBILE RINGS)
Oh, who the fuck is that?
Hello! Oh, you owe me money!
It was my lead, you prick.
I fucking found it for you,
know it was.
Don't fucking argue back.
Yeah, I'm up for salesman
of the year. Yeah, yeah.
Friday night. Golden Vac.
They've saddled me with this
twat of a trainee. Yeah,
holding me back a bit.
No, he's not listening?
Are you? Are you listening?
Oh, too busy looking
at my knob, I think.
Come on! Bring a vac or two.
Rule number three.
Wherever you be, always have
a vac or two ready and cocked
in case of a quick sale.
-Can I put the radio on?
-No!
I'll put this tape
on that I mixed.
No. You can have a motivation
tape on, though. One I made.
Got woofers on this
car, you know.
* Sell! Sell!
Fucking sell! Sell! Sell!
* Sell! Sell! Sell!
Fucking sell! Sell! Sell!
* Sell! Sell! Sell!
Fucking sell!
* Fucking sell! Sell!
Fucking sell!
(HORN BLARING)
Watch out! Argh!
Get out of my way,
you two-bob fuckers!
We've got vacs
to shift! Come on!
-(SCREECHING)
-Two fucking miles an hour!
Get out the way!
We've got things to do!
* Fucking sell! Sell! Sell! *
-So, uh, d'you feel
you'll get it, then?
-Eh?
The uh, Top Salesman of the
Year. Two weeks in Benidorm.
I'll kill meself if I don't.
People say, "What commission
you want?" I say,
"I don't know, I don't care.
"I'm on kamikaze commission."
Ours is to sell or die!
No one will do what I
would do for a sale. No one.
No one shifts what I shift...
Except that Rottweiler in
Blackpool. What's he called?
Pockmark. Ah, he does some.
You should see him,
he looks like Jack Palance,
but with skin of
the alligator, skin
of the alligator.
He's done some.
Otherwise they've no chance.
They're all behind me.
They're so little in the
distance, they make me sick.
Anyway, if they come too close
to me, I'll bite them.
Ahhh! (LAUGHING)
-PETE: I gotta wee!
I gotta wee!
-Oh, for fuck's sake!
(BRAKES SCREECHING)
TOMMY: Oh, it will do
your absolute lot. This is
an amazing machine.
Look at it. It'll go right
round your seals,
round your wheels.
It'll do your carpets.
This will get off
every bit of grime.
Any bit of grime,
it will just suck it up.
Look at it. Look.
It lifts the felt, it lifts
the nap. Lifts the nap...
Get hold of it. You there.
Now hold that.
Look at the strength of that.
It's amazing. It's not
heavy at all. Look at
my finger, look at that. Look.
Listen to the strength of
those wheels. You can even
do your lawn with this.
Look how light it is.
Look at that.
It rolls in like that,
like a balloon. Look.
(TYRES SCREECHING)
-Goodbye.
-Goodbye.
Bye, Tommy!
(TYRES SCREECHING)
Quick detour to base.
Do you know what it's like
to work in a place
where everybody hates you?
-No.
-Invigorating.
Come on!
Blue!
-Pink. Wrong.
-Nearly.
-Nowhere near!
-Who cares? I get a look.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
-What's his problem?
-I don't know.
Where's the chicken
house gone?
I'm not sure. Nobody
tells me anything.
Only last week
this was the chicken house.
Three old broilers
on telephones,
smoking like chimneys,
taking calls for leads
between coughing fits.
I'd put me head in the
door like a rooster.
They'd all squawk and squeal
and call for the manager.
It was only last fucking week!
They've knocked
it all into one.
Look at it. It's socket city.
(ROMANTIC MUSIC PLAYS)
What was that?
(MUSIC STOPS)
Bloody hellfire.
Who's this?
What was that? Hmm?
Stonecheeks?
And why do I feel like
twenty pairs of frozen
high heels have just
walked across me grave?
(SHUDDERING)
It's Uki. She's here to set up
website and Internet for us.
Oh, I know.
Fishnet Internet stockings
at cyberknickers
for I lap-top forward-slash-
you lap-bottom dot co dot UK-
org-orgy
Benny Hill dot tits
dot dot dot com.
Great!
Now then, what's the latest?
How am I doing?
-All right.
-Anything else?
Tommy, not harassing my
staff again, are you?
Not at all, Mr Ron.
Just discussing with
Miss Stonecheeks here,
the latest progress
and gen on the Golden Vac.
Just thinking about what to
move on my mantelpiece,
what suntan oil to buy.
The arrogance!
It's not over yet, Rag.
You all see the latest
pile the Bond girl
took through there?
Doesn't mean
you're a salesman.
-Sales make a salesman.
-I think there's a bit
more to it than that.
-Than what?
-Than a spieler who operates
without any ethics,
-whatsoever,
doing anything for a sale.
-(LAUGHS)
At least I'm honest. About
what I do and how I do it.
Not like the rest of
you hypocrites.
Walking into this place these
days, you've got to watch out
you don't skid on the smarm!
(IN HUSKY VOICE) 'Tis yours.
'Tis yours.
'Tis you... (CLEARS THROAT)
-Hello.
-Eh?
Pete. Remember?
The other night?
You gave me Throat's place.
Oh, yeah, yeah. How are you
doing? Keep it up, eh?
(CHUCKLES) Nice to see you.
Oh, yeah! (LAUGHING)
TOMMY: And what's the idea
of putting me with that
lame health freak?
-What do you mean?
-In the last day's run-up
to the competition,
holding me back.
He's returned.
Not suitable material.
Oh, you're returning
him, are you?
Oh, well, if you can't
cope, I can always send
him off with Randolph.
Oh, no, no, no, no!
Send some more if you want,
do what you want.
Cellotape a piece of dog crap
to me cheek, I'll still sell
more than all of you!
Chain a cannon ball
to me leg, I'll still win.
And have the chain, the
ball and the fucking cannon
sold into the bargain!
You think you've got all the
answers with your big mouth
and your outdated bloody,
bloody blunderbuss tactics!
-Now, now.
-You will see.
No, I won't. You don't like
me, but you like my results.
You'd sack me if you
could, but you can't.
So do one, Ron Ron,
do one, Ron.
(COMPUTER BEEPING)
Bugger me. You live here?
Where? I don't see habitation,
unless you're Top Cat.
-PETE: Here! This one here.
-Where, where's an house?
Next to the boarded up one.
Here.
(TYRES SCREECHING)
Well, I thought mine was bad.
You are poor.
See you... Workhouse!
(TYRES SCREECHING)
-You all right?
-Yeah, just Clayface
was there again.
-She's always there.
-She's always staring.
She's mad. I tell her to fuck
off and go be Claywoman in
an American comic book.
Anyway, how'd it go?
-(MUSIC PLAYING)
-Good.
-Good.
-Good.
Good? Is that it?
(MUSIC PLAYING)
Come on. I wanna know
how you got on.
You're back early.
Oh, no! You've not been
sacked, have you? Because
I'm warning you, if you did...
-No, no, I got dropped off.
-By the bloke you're with?
-Yeah.
-What's he called?
Uh... Tommy, Tommy Rag.
-Is he all right?
-He's great, yeah, nice bloke.
Well, he'll be the
first salesman that is.
You'll need more gumption
than this, Pete. I've got
an idea to give it to you.
Come here.
Something to motivate you
to the top like a rocket.
Remember pussy cat? (PURRING)
Not till you've
made your first sale!
No.
Till you've made
your first sale.
(PURRING)
(MUSIC PLAYING ON HEADPHONES)
(TYRES SCREECH)
(HORN BLARING CONTINUOUSLY)
Come on, Workhouse!
-What's rule number four?
-I don't know.
-Now, what's rule number four?
-I don't know.
Rule number fucking four, pal,
is don't piss around
keeping me waiting!
Seconds lead to sales.
Pockmark will have
had his Puffa Puffa and be
off the blocks by now.
If you're not there next time,
I'll fuck off and leave you,
all right?
(TYRES SCREECHING)
Here, get that suit on,
if you want to be with me.
Go on!
It's old one,
but it's a favourite,
so don't shit in it, right?
(HORN BLARING)
Shit! Shit! Fucking shit!
Out with the rags!
-You won't be needing
those again!
-PETE: Me coat!
So, Tommy...
-Yeah?
-Can I sell today?
-What?
-On me own.
-Go on.
-You want to make as
many sales as possible
toward Benidorm.
You can have mine,
just let me make 'em.
Um, you give me
commission, or share,
even share the commission.
Go on, then. Sell in there.
One thing, poor areas
like this, get out
when you're done.
A clean cut.
Rule fucking whatever.
Take no sob stories,
no hesitation.
As quick as you can,
withdraw, get out
like a spent knob.
Boot!
(TYRES SCREECHING)
20 weeks. £2.12.
(KNOCK ON DOOR)
Yes?
-I'm here to, uh,
make life easier.
-Oh?
-I've something
I'd like to talk to you about.
-Come in.
Fearful cold, isn't it?
I've not turned the fire up
too high. I owe all over.
Sorry it's such a mess.
It's hard when you're on your
own and four children.
PETE: It's a vacuum, see?
-Uh... Can I plug it in?
-If you like. There's a
whatsit somewhere.
The other one broke.
Someone took it to fix
but he never brought it back.
-It does everything.
-That's nice.
This place could do
with a good going
over and right through.
It's a mess. It's fearful hard
to keep the house going.
I've fearful little coming in.
Me grandma, she's offered
to take photos of me
to send off to one of
them filthy magazines.
You get paid. There was a
woman three streets away was
one of them "reader's wives".
People still ask
for her autograph.
Who ought to look at me
in my fearful condition?
Granny says there's
a magazine called
Bony Bints or something
that might. I don't know.
She's looking into it for me.
She knows from her boyfriend.
They call him Barbecue Herod.
Do you know him? No.
His fingers is like
burnt sausages.
Been in too many pies.
I don't know how she lets him
near her, I don't, really.
Then where would we take 'em?
Every room in this house
is like this. Humble and shit.
-Who'd want to look at a
nude in such conditions?
-This will help you clear up.
Me grandma did it in the '50s.
I've a photo of her somewhere.
She's sitting astride a
rolled-up carpet in a
kitchen. Place is not bad,
but you can just see
the back end
of a bicycle wheel,
and there's washing up
in the sink.
-Where is it?
-It's all right.
About the cleaner...
Okay.
-Eh?
-I'll take it.
It's very nice,
and from what you said,
it should do the trick.
I bought some books before
off a man off the door.
There they are over there.
Kings And Queens Of England.
I've never looked at them.
I don't read well.
But you know, a bargain's
a bargain and, as I say, it's
nice to know they're there.
Then there's me tick,
me telly and the Sky.
You find that when your
benefit comes in,
all your debts go at it,
like piglets at hogs.
But you carry on.
But I'm fearful honest
about me debts.
Don't worry, whatever it
takes, I never miss.
We've been on gravy
and bread and I've never
missed me catalogue.
-(DOOR KNOCKING)
-TOMMY: Only me!
-Is that your boss?
-Yeah.
Let him in.
TOMMY: Hello!
Are you signing, then?
-It'll help me clear up.
-Just sign.
He'll fill in the rest.
I want it clean
for me pictures.
-Hmm? Pictures?
-PETE: She's posing nude.
To send off.
I know about that.
I've got a camera,
if you want me to do it.
Camera in the car.
What, uh... What poses
were you considering?
No, it's okay.
Me grandma's got one
of those you don't need to
send off to the developers.
Fair enough. Enjoy your vac.
There it stands. 'Tis yours.
Look at it awhile
before you use it.
It's a beauty, isn't it?
'Tis yours.
Goodbye.
(DOOR SLAMS SHUT)
You did it! You did it!
Well done!
-How does it feel?
-Great. I feel great.
I've done it. Oh, me pen.
(WOMAN SOBBING)
What are you looking for?
-I wanted to see your camera.
-Camera! I ain't got one.
-You told her...
-I'd have made one out of
that Puffa Puffa Rice box
just to get a free look.
She won't know the difference.
Anyway... (COUGHS) I'd have
probably used me digital.
Sad cow.
Right, onwards!
You're on your way, Workhouse!
Hey, come back here!
Okay, now you're
no longer the virgin,
now you've done your
first sale, it's your exams.
-Go through the rules!
-(STUTTERING)
Rule one, give no quarter.
Rule two, good breakfast.
Three, keep vaccocked.
-Four, seconds lead to sales.
Five, out like a spent knob.
-What's rule number six?
-I don't know. What?
-Rule number six...
There are no rules!
You passed. See you, P-Pete!
-(LAUGHING)
-(TYRES SCREECHING)
I've sold!
I've sold, do you hear?
I've sold!
Did you sell?
Yeah.
The music.
That's right. Come through.
Hurry, hurry. The cat...
(PURRING)
Wants her milky cream.
I can't.
(KNOCKING ON DOOR)
-Have I done summit?
-No, can I come in?
You can't afford it.
I've come to take it back.
Here you are. It's me last,
but you have it...
Not the kids. You.
All right?
Here you are, mate.
You haven't got the
time, have you?
(GROANING)
Fucking... Argh!
-(BOYS LAUGHING)
-Fuck off outta here!
Fucking brilliant.
Come on, lads.
Fucking mad, fucking mad!
Ah!
(UNZIPPING)
Sorry.
Loser.
PETE: Sheila?
She's gone.
Sheila!
No!
Sheila!
Sheila!
(SCREAMING)
Clayface, where is she?
Fucking hell.
(WHISPERING) 1950.
What?
1926.
1945.
Oh, fucking hell!
Stop! Fucking!
(SCREAMING) Stop!
(HORN BLARING)
(SCREAMING) Help!
(BANGING ON DOOR)
Fucking hell!
The lady downstairs
has collapsed in there!
She's in there
all... Collapsed!
And then there was fire!
I put it out!
I kicked her door!
Oh, God, I didn't know!
She's still lying there!
She's in there!
Dead! Dead, I tell you.
Sheila's gone. (EXHALES)
My Sheila left me.
(CHUCKLES)
I was in the street.
I went in there.
You came.
I don't know what's happening.
Say something.
Superkalifragilistic-
expeallydosious. Say it.
Go on, say it!
Dosiousexpeally-
fragilistickalisuper.
You're late!
And you've got
a partial picture
of the 1966 England World Cup
squad on your forehead.
Uh, the late Bobby Moore and
a quarter of Martin Peters,
if I'm not mistaken.
And on your chest,
the Apollo 11 mission,
and in your navel,
can't quite make it out.
It could be half of
Diana Dors, could be
the Millennium Dome.
Then on each thigh,
a singed suffragette,
and three prime ministers
and a Zeppelin on the shin.
You're a veritable,
tabby-eared and
scorched scrapbook
of the 20th century.
I don't want to know why.
I don't want to know how
I've entered into
Monty Python's missing sketch.
I would just like
to remind you
that today is the day
of the night the competition
winner is announced.
And as a consequence,
all hands must be on deck,
all stops must be pulled.
-So get your fluttering
arse in gear!
-How?
(GASPING)
How can you talk like that
when she's gone?
Gone!
She's left me and...
Oh, God, oh, God! I know
she'll never come back,
and she is lying there!
Christ!
Clearly no sale in here.
Another Stonecheeks
bites the dust.
Well, at least she's dead.
Could be worse.
Ill people make me sick.
We'll have to
phone an ambulance.
-Bit late for that.
-Police.
Ugh! Can't we just leave her?
No!
All right, all right!
(SIGHS)
But we're wasting
valuable time here.
Pockmark would leave
her for the rats and mice.
(GROANS)
I hate these fucking things!
Electrified Mars Bars.
I short them on a
daily basis, you know.
They won't work for me.
I've got too much
electricity in me brains.
Come on! (SIGHS)
A life... Like that.
All gone.
What's it all about?
AUTOMATED VOICE:
We are urgently trying
to answer your call...
I had a dream
last night, Workhouse.
I had a dream. Hmm.
Came over the hill,
and black and white
people were having it off.
No? (LAUGHING)
Can't we cover her up, huh?
Oh, come on!
I did have a dream.
I saw that Oriental bint
from the office.
She was, like...
Walking on air.
She was pushing a vac
and that was, like, on air.
And as she walked, like
magic in her trail, she left
smart young girls behind her,
talking into mics at their
mouths, like Madonna.
And all faces
aglow in front of
the computer screens.
I couldn't get it. It was
seductive, you know, as if
something was being gathered,
like, softly guided in.
Not like my selling,
not like the selling
we know and hate.
And at the last computer
screen, she stepped in...
And I went in after.
It was a tropical beach,
blue sky, sea, but it...
It was more than that.
It was all alive...
Like heaven.
Somehow I felt like all me
work was done, you know,
there were no more
vacuums left for me to sell.
And when I looked, she'd gone.
The vac was all alone
on the beach.
Gold it was, glittering in
the sand, and I was going up
and down the beach with it.
I think it was plugged into
the sun or something.
I felt odd at first, but no
fever. The fever was gone.
And then I got used to meself.
I all opened up inside,
like a flower.
It was so beautiful.
I started crying.
There was tears everywhere.
I was completely nude.
I was vacuuming
completely nude
in paradise.
AUTOMATED VOICE:
We are urgently trying
to answer your call...
Now, Workhouse. Get upstairs,
get the 20th century off you
and get dressed now!
-OPERATOR: Which service
do you require?
-Emergency.
-OPERATOR: Which service
do you require?
-Emergency!
OPERATOR: Which service
do you require? Please, which
service do you require?
Hello?
Emergency.
OPERATOR: Hello?
(TRAIN TOOTS)
This day is going nowhere!
(SIGHS) Come on!
I'm losing ground.
I feel like me heels
is in a pillow.
I know!
(TYRES SCREECHING)
PETE: Where are we going?
-(HORN BLARING)
-To a sale that's nearly made.
I'm a feeling a stroke away
and I'm having it today! We're
going to see the Spaniard.
Adios, Tommy.
HOT POT: Why do you do this?
We're not Spanish.
We are somewhere.
-We've got tango blood
and jet black hair.
-Your hair's grey.
You've only been
like this since that
salesman came round,
told you you had
a Spanish look.
He only said that to sell
you a vacuum cleaner.
-You're just jealous.
-It's all to get a sale.
(SCOFFS) El rubbisho!
-Buy one then.
-I shall when I am ready.
And I know what
you did upstairs.
He was just giving me
a demonstration, that is all.
-It's all to sell.
-Oh, shut up!
At least he comes.
Nobody comes for you, do they?
You fatty virgin!
(DOORBELL CHIMES)
-Thomas!
-Spaniard!
Here it is,
the little white bull.
Um, can we just try it
upstairs on the carpet again,
-you know, before I make
my final decision?
-If we must.
If we must.
SPANIARD: Have you warned
him she's slow?
TOMMY: He's not
so quick himself!
(LAUGHING)
* Sister, sister *
Are you that
salesman's friend?
Do you like my legs?
They feel heavy.
-Do you know a chocolate rep
called Terence?
-No.
He was her friend before.
Her Milk Tray man.
-(CHUCKLES)
-Oh.
I'm touched.
Oh?
Do you want a drink?
Coffee.
Pour us two glasses
of that Shangri-La.
(TOMMY GRUNTING)
Oh, no, I forgot
the Sangria.
Never mind it. I trust
you're signing today.
Oh, let us leave
it till later.
I want amour, Tommy.
Mucho, mucho amour!
Amour! Oh, Tommy, more!
Amour! Oh, Tommy!
(BURPS)
(BED SQUEAKING)
You're sad, aren't you?
I am, yes.
-I can tell moods.
-(LAUGHING IN DISTANCE)
-SPANIARD: Oh, Tommy! Tommy!
-(TOMMY MOANING)
If I show you my bra,
will it cheer you up?
I always wear a sexy one.
It's big, though.
(CLATTERING RHYTHMICALLY)
(YELLING)
(PANTING)
(MOANING)
(GRUNTING AND HUFFING)
Look!
-(GROANING)
-(LAUGHING AND JEERING)
TOMMY: Don't mind us.
Get back on!
(BOTH LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY)
-(DOOR SHUTS)
-Oh.
TOMMY: Jezebel!
(LAUGHING)
-Oh!
-Ah!
Darling!
Oh!
-Oh, adios!
-Adios!
Adios, Tommy!
Conquistador, or what?
Anything, anything, anything,
anything for a sale!
(LAUGHING) Oh!
What's happening to me?
What's happening to me?
Shut up
or I'll fucking hit you!
Go on, then, kill me.
I want to. What have I done?
-Go in the dash. There'll be
something in there.
-I don't want anything!
I don't want a fucking
thing out of the dash!
I fucking hate you!
-(TYRES SCREECHING)
-Listen, you!
I'm gonna give you one chance
to pull yourself together.
If you don't fucking
take it, I'm fucking off
and leaving you, right!
I shagged the slow girl!
So what?
Tonight's my night.
The Vac of Gold!
I know I'm taking it, but
I wanna take it in style,
with a handful of sales
still in me hand.
-What was that?
-A hitchhiker.
No, it's not, you blockhead.
It's an opportunity!
Never miss an opportunity!
I've sold to hitchhikers
before now, left them
two junctions later,
clutching their vac
of their very own,
not knowing what the fucking
dandoozle's gone on.
Hello, young man,
your lift is here. Come in.
-What's your name?
-De Kid.
-Oh, hello! I'm De Tommy Rag.
-You're a salesman.
-How did you guess?
-No one else is so
loud in the mornings.
-(LAUGHING) What do you do?
-Guess.
No, no, I'll give
you a clue. No one sits
when I'm in a room.
-Are you a royal?
-Close.
-I'm a DJ.
-Oh, aye! He likes
that. Don't you?
-Where are you going?
-Blackpool.
Me going there tonight.
Big prizes. What are
you doing there?
A gig.
There you are. He's doing
a jig like what you like.
His bird's dumped him.
She were a stripper, you know.
Look, before you
get settled in,
how do you go about
cleaning your carpet at home?
-(SCOFFS) I ain't got no home.
-Where do you sleep?
Hotels, motels, car seats,
back streets, teepees,
warehouses, shithouses,
or I stay up all night.
-Where are you from?
-I don't know.
Bloody hell,
I've picked up Oliver Twist.
All I know is
I'm northern, I have no
carpet and I have no mat.
Our vacuums do
other things, you know.
Why? Maybe I could
sample them.
Set them off in Ibiza.
(BEATBOXING)
Big fish, little fish,
cardboard box.
BOTH: Big fish, little fish,
cardboard box!
Night of 100 vacs!
Vacuuming completely
nude in paradise.
Oh, well I haven't got
time for this. Thank you,
very much here, right now.
Sling your hook, pal.
Take no offence. I won't
sell you out. Fuck off!
Pit stop. You coming?
-See you, J Edgar.
-Eh?
Hoover.
Did he mean it?
I mixed a bit. You know,
I was learning meself,
like bedroom DJ.
-Who taught you?
-The crowd.
Right. Oh, yeah, right.
How did you start?
There was an old DJ
down the road from me
selling a big, clunking
1970s disco twin
deck for 50 quid.
I sold my bike for 60,
bought it and with the tenner,
I got three records.
They're all I had for ages.
I wore 'em thin.
I took the pads off my
fingers with practise. Look.
Smooth as marbles.
Police can't arrest me now,
unidentifiable. Except,
by me music. Then I did a gig.
One gig went to another gig
to another gig to gig to gig.
I'll do whatever comes.
Basements, clubs,
warehouses, bar mitzvahs!
-(LAUGHS)
-It doesn't matter
what I had to start with.
I can get from Amazing Grace
to Abba to ambient
to hard house before
they know what's happened.
I mix up a potion.
I make 'em feel better.
I guarantee to get the most
miserable twat out there
or your money back.
-Do you make a living?
-I only want the money
so I can open my own club.
-Your own club?
-Yeah.
-What's it gonna be called?
-The Ark.
Everybody's welcome.
It will never close.
You can stay in there
until you feel it's safe
to come out again.
Top!
Can I ask you something,
De Kid? Can I...
-Will you listen to my mix?
-No.
I can't hear a thing
without the people.
Tell you what, though...
I'll play it for you tonight.
Least you know
it's being danced to.
(WHISPERING)
I'll give you a secret.
Silence is loud.
(DOOR FLINGS OPEN)
Boot!
(BOOT POPS OPEN)
Let me hit Stonecheeks
with these before
the witching hour.
And then I insist
you accompany me to Blackpool
and the great give-away show.
* Now I've been happy lately
* Thinking about the
good things to come
* And I believe it could be
* Something good has begun
* I've been smiling lately
* Dreaming about
the world as one
* And I believe it could be
Someday it's going to come
* Out on the edge
of darkness *
TOMMY: Workhouse, me old lub!
(CHUCKLING)
We're riding to Blackpool!
To Mecca!
Metropole Hotel on the front.
I swung by
to pick the girls up.
In the sad end... (LAUGHS)
I've no one else to bring!
Hot Pot came too, see?
She's not been out for years.
She come for I told her
you were coming.
Anyway, I'm the goddamn winner
and I want some champagne.
Get out the dash there.
Come on!
Oh, there is none.
-Is there not?
-No.
-Is there, is there
some hotel miniatures?
-There are.
Near enough. Come on.
Smack 'em open.
Let's celebrate.
-(LAUGHING)
-What will you
do if you lose?
I will win!
-Spaniard, do you want
to hear my speech?
-Si, si, si.
Mr Ron and all the rest of you
scum, I would like very much,
very much like to thank you.
For without your rejection
and wish for me to topple,
I would not have made it
to the sun lounger in the
sun I will soon be occupying,
or to this exalted height
I now hold as best fucking
salesman in the universe ever!
Bravo!
You thought I did it alone.
I did not.
You don't know how much you
helped me climb that ladder.
Your hatred was the rungs.
Each stab in the back
made Tommy scurry up
all the higher,
each time Stonecheeks
did not bung me a lead,
I took off and scavenged,
robbed, dug up ten of me own.
So, ta. A mighty ta
to all you rats and mice
at the good old office.
Thanks must also go
to Little Al's dad.
Little Al's dad down the
street when I was a nipper.
Al's da, the salesman.
He sold flying saucers.
That soft, perfect,
almost paper, sweet, you know,
that exploded in your mouth.
Oh, when it hits
the back of your throat!
He'd give 'em out
to us, tossed 'em,
tossed 'em, we caught 'em.
Pale pink and
green and yellow,
flying through the sky.
And thanks must go to my dad,
who showed me the mug's way,
so early, so clearly,
coming home in filth,
having worked all
the hours God could spare,
for tuppence ha'penny.
Beat. Bad-tempered.
Broken.
And thanks to him
also for making me
hate to hesitate.
Little me, upstairs in bed...
(THUDS)
-While he hit Mum downstairs.
-(MAN SCREAMING)
"One more time," I'd say.
"One more scream
and I'll get the poker."
But I didn't.
I've never hesitated since.
I've never crushed
up regret since.
I should have broken
his dirty, oil-stained
fingers off in the door.
And I thank him
for his face... (CHUCKLES)
When I'd come home
after a few hours spieling.
"The whole set, darling.
No, I don't want your
£10, nor your five.
"Put your notes away. I don't
know what's come over me.
"Eight and six, the lot.
Hurry before they carry
me off to the loony bin."
(LAUGHING)
And I'd throw a wad,
ten of his wage packets,
thick, on the kitchen
table for me Mum.
He couldn't look at us!
He couldn't finish
his food because
I'd beaten him with success
and so I go on beating them,
for I do not lose.
And finally, thanks
must go most of all
to all the suckers
I've mugged through the years,
who I've left dizzy
and light of pocket,
holding something
they never needed or
wanted, with a "'Tis yours!"
"'Tis yours!"
"'Tis yours!"
Oh, I am so proud!
MR RON ON SPEAKER:
Your growth and the company's
growth, fuelled by honesty...
Honesty!
(APPLAUDING AND CHEERING)
We have had... We have had
a stupendous year so far.
We are riding high
as one of the top
regions in the country.
(CROWD CHEERING)
Fucking hurry up.
I want to get abroad.
And so, without further ado,
let's find out the winner.
I'm going to ask
one of our brightest
female members of staff
to be so kind and do us the
honours and read them out.
Please welcome Uki,
the head of our
new Information
Technology department.
(WHISTLING AND APPLAUDING)
The final nominees for the
Golden Vac awards are...
-Tommy Rag.
-(SCATTERED APPLAUSE)
MAN 1: Good lad, Tommy!
MAN 2: Nice one, son!
Throat.
(CROWD ROARING)
And Randolph Doleen.
Pockmark.
(CROWD ROARING)
Pockmark!
And the winner is...
The winner is...
Rand... Sorry, Pockmark.
(ALL CHEERING)
And in second place,
it's a tie with Throat
and Tommy Rag.
(INDISTINCT)
Winner!
Yes, yes, yes!
(9 TO 5 PLAYING)
* I wake up every morning
I stumble out of bed
* Stretching and a-yawning
Another day ahead
* It seems to last forever
And time will slowly ride
* Till babe and me's together
Then it starts to fly
* 'Cause the moment
that he's with me
Time can take a flight
* The moment that he's with me
Everything's all right
* Night-time is the right time
We make love
* Then it's his and my time
We take up!
* My baby takes
the morning train
* He works from nine... *
Stop, cheats!
-(WOMEN SHRIEK)
-What are you doing?
Pervert!
Where's Ron Ron? Where is he?
-I'm not telling you.
-You'd fucking better!
Why? What will you do?
Boot you in the vagina!
Oh, what the hell,
I owe him nothing.
He's took Susie Wong
for a walk down the prom
to talk about the future.
Big changes. This is gonna be
the last competition,
but no one knows it.
You know, he reckons with her
help they can clear twice as
much on the cyber highway
as you lot can
on the tarmac one.
-It's death of the salesman.
-Never mind all that shite.
What happened?
What fucking happened?
-Your sales were one short.
-Never!
Yeah. One of the sales
was nulled and the
vacuum went missing.
No.
-Workhouse!
-(SLAMS DOOR)
What about Throat, how could
I have tied with a dead
man who couldn't talk?
Why not tell you?
What do I care,
now he's got his geisha?
(SCOFFS)
As you got closer
and closer to winning,
he got more desperate.
He started to scheme to
get the others to donate sales
to the Throat Memorial.
Not strictly allowed,
but he's the boss.
Honesty, eh?
Honesty.
You...
(MUSIC PLAYING)
Big fish, little fish,
cardboard box!
Big fish, little fish,
cardboard box! Come on!
Yes!
Listen. Watch.
Watch your music weave
and work and weave. Behold.
Me music!
(MUSIC STOPS)
Come on! One time only!
I can sell you this.
I can sell vacuums
to vacuum salesmen.
This time, it's the
one-off forever bargain.
All appliances thrown in.
My soul's included.
My life's work.
The bag is full
of Australian shoes
lodged in my flesh and blood!
(GRUNTING)
(WHIP CRACKING)
(SCREAMING)
-Steward!
-(GRUNTING)
-Get him out.
-And Tommy, you're sacked.
Get him out.
CROWD: (CHANTING)
Peter! Peter! Peter! Peter!
Peter! Peter! Peter! Peter!
(DANCE MUSIC PLAYING)
-No one was listening
at the beginning.
-I know.
-Now everyone's listening.
-I know.
See, see?
I knew you was
the one to watch.
Whoo!
(COUGHING)
(LAUGHING)
Sea!
Do you want a vac?
Hoover your bottom,
take up all the
jewels and wrecks
and rotting sailor boys!
I'll do you
a massive deal, sea.
I'll knock off twice as much
for you, sea!
May I call you Briney?
May I?
Come on!
Come on! You want one.
You know you want it.
Come on! You must...
You must have one! Come on!
Take it.
(GRUNTING)
(SCREAMING)
Argh!
Hey!
Hey!
You don't have to
vac me heart up!
(GASPS)
I... I can taste blood...
Tommy!
And flying saucers.
Tommy! Tommy!
Tommy!
Tommy!
Tommy!
Tommy...