Harry Enfield and Chums (1994–1999): Season 1, Episode 3 - Episode #1.3 - full transcript

[theme music plays]


- [Game Boys beeping]
- Kevin!

Kevin? Kevin.


- Kevin!
- What!

You know Mary Parkin's coming to see me?

Are you listening to me?


- But she's bringing Lucy with her.
- [snorts] I'm going out.

No, no, Kevin. I want to have
a proper chat to Mary

and I want you to look after Lucy
for the afternoon.

Bloody hell, Mum, why?
She's your bloody friend. No!

Come on, Kevin, you've always got on fine
with Lucy.

I haven't bloody seen her since I was six!

- [doorbell rings]
- Kevin, I want you to behave.

So unfair!

- [Mum] Hello, Mary! Lovely to see you.
- [Mary] Hello...

[Mum] He's waiting in the sitting room.

Hello, Kevin! How are you?

Hello, Mrs Parkin. Very well, thank you.


This is Lucy.

- You remember Lucy, don't you?
- Hello.


I'm-- I'm Perry, Pelso. Perry, Perry.

Perry, don't go home.

- Mary, would you like some coffee?
- Oh, love some.

Kevin, why don't you take Lucy
up to your bedroom?

[Kevin squeals]

[Mum] Play some records and things.

Would you like to come up to my bedroom,

Yeah, all right.

- Got any music?
- Yeah, I'll put some on, shall I?

Put some music on and... [groans]

D'you like Nirvana?

No, I used to like them
but no one listens to them anymore.

Yeah. Perry, you can have your tape back.

What shall I put on, then?

Got any ragga?

Yeah, I've got some Shabba Ranks,
actually, somewhere.

- No, you haven't.
- I have.

No, he's only got about four tapes

I haven't! I've got lots.
I just lost some.

Yeah, I'll put that on, this'll do.
I hate it, but it'll do.

[techno music playing]

- Are you all right?
- Yeah. We always do that, don't we, Kev?

No, we don't, Perry.
God, he's so embarrassing, isn't he?

Here, look at me. All right,
I can just miss you, right?

- Good shot, ain't I?
- Yeah, but I'm a better shot.

- Gimme the gun, Per.
- No.

- Go on, give us it.
- No!

- Gimme the gun.
- Not yet, no!

- Gimme the gun.
- No!

- Gimme the gun!
- No.

It's my bloody gun. Give me the gu--
Give me the gun!

Gimme the bloody gun! Gimme the gun!
Give me the-- [chokes]

- Do you surrender?
- Get off, Perry!

- Not until you surrender.
- He's such a baby, Luc-- [groans]

Say, "I surrender and you can have
the gun."

I surrender and you can have the gun.

Stupid prat!
Him and his stupid gun, eh, Lucy?

Look, why don't you come and sit
next to me and get away from him?

What, me?


[breathing heavily]

Oh, look! There's the Shabba Ranks tape.
See, I told you I had it.


Haw, man. It was that funny,
the other night, right?

This bloke in the pub, right,
tell us this story.

Now, what happens, right, was he's...

Nah, it's gone.

- Not long to go now.
- Is visiting time nearly over then?

No, not long to go for you.
You should be dead by the morning!

- Am I dying?
- Yep!

The doctors reckon you've got no chance.

Look at your chart.

Downhill all the way.
Stick a couple of flag poles on that,

you could bung it out on Ski Sunday.

- No! I don't wanna die.
- Well, you're in a minority of one, there.

I put a bet on at five to one at Ladbrokes
two days ago that you'd be gone.

I've lost 50 quid!

You're so bloody selfish!
I put a notice in yesterday's paper.

"Alf Git. Gone to hell. Good riddance!"
And you're still here.

I'm not going to hell, am I?

Of course you are.
You reckon you've got trouble

with your down-belows at the moment?
You wait till tomorrow,

when there's a little hairy devil
with a red-hot poker up there.

- No!
- Yes.

You reckon they're gonna let you off

for bricking up that cat
behind our fireplace?

- Well...
- Or directing that poor lady

in front of that lorry?

- She should've looked.
- You knew perfectly well she was blind.

It was only a joke.

Oh, I suppose it was a joke when you
electrocuted that baby, was it?

That was your idea.


- But you did it!
- No. I'm sorry for my sins.

- I don't wanna die.
- Too late, the grim reaper's on his way!

- [heart monitor flatlines]
- [grunts]

- Alf! Alf!
- [siren blaring]

Nurse! Nurse! Help, please,
my friend's dying! Don't let him die!

[distant devilish laugh]

Four-hundred years we've been waiting
for this post office to open.

All I want is a stamp. It's a disgrace!

Bloody bus! A century late again!
I'd walk it if it wasn't for me corns,

bunions, blisters, arthritis,
heart conditions.

Hundred years I've waited
for this bloody bus!

I wouldn't have come if I had known.

Look at this, it's diabolical.
The prices keep going up all the time.

And it's freezing cold here,

and they're too stingy to put
the heating on!

The surgery's never open.
I'm a martyr to my varicose veins.

The doctor's one of them!
You know what I mean.

And there's VAT on prescription charges.

[woman] They never empty the bins!

[woman 2] You can't get any mince!

Oh, no!

- Oh, no!
- You buggers! I was havin' a great time!

What do you mean? You was dead!

I had an out-of-body experience.

- I went to heaven.
- Yeah. What was it like?

Wonderful. You bugger!
How dare you save me!

Yeah, go on, Doctor. Kill him.

I'm sorry, gents,
I've made him perfectly well again,

now piss off, the pair of you,
we've got to close this ward down.

You bugger!

Never mind.
Let's go and cheer ourselves up

by going down the maternity unit
and swapping some babies around.

Haw, man, there was this amazin' programme
on the telly the other night.

Did you see it? Oh, what happened, right,

No, it's gone.

All right, look, I gotta go.
It's about to start.

- She's gonna tell the neighbours.
- [music playing through TV]

[TV presenter]
Crimesearch UK, with John Stalker.

Good evening,

and first we turn to that
building society robbery in Wallasey.

These three men were captured
on security camera

as they threatened staff
behind the counter.

But their attempt was foiled
by the quick thinking

of the assistant manager who
pointed out that the weapons

were simply crap looking guns
made out of a cucumber.

Chief Inspector Pritchard,
what can you tell us about these men?

Well, from the naff-looking haircuts,
the squabbling,

and the stolen trainers, we deduce
that they were from Liverpool.

We have an artist's impression
of the three men.

Now, this man we think is about 32,
very mean looking and he's probably

- a well-known local hard case.
- Nice one, Busy.

Second man is about five-foot-ten,

slightly older, and we believe
is probably a particularly violent

- and unpleasant character.
- Thanks a lot, Copper.

And the third man?

And the third man we think
is a big girl's blouse.

"A big girl's blouse?" So very much
the sort of person who would say,

"Yes, please," if you asked him if he
wanted a shandy.

That's right, John,
shandy-drinking big girl's blouse,

who we believe has never done it
with a girl.

Is there anything distinctive
about his shandy drinking?

Yes, John. We have reason to believe
that he may have been spotted

drinking shandy like this.

He's got you off to a T there, Ga!

What should you do if you think
you know this man?

Well, members of the public are advised

that they can approach him
without any bother.

Even a ballerina could bring him in
sobbing like a baby.


- Billy Scouser!
- What?

I arrest you for the crime
on that there telly programme

that was just on then there, just.

Oh, yeah? Not without a fight,
you don't, copper! Come on then...



- Good evening, Greyson.
- Good evening, Mr Cholmondley-Warner.

Well done, Mr Cholmondley-Warner.
A fine example of self-defence.

Thank you, Greyson.

But would you have the foggiest idea
what to do if apprehended

by an up-to-no-gooder on a dark knight?

It's frightfully late, and a burly fellow
stops you

and practically bars your progress.

All right, chummy.
Hand over your perishing lolly

or face a bit of rough and tumble.

Obviously you can't see eye-to-eye
with him on this matter.

I'm afraid, I can't see eye-to-eye
with you on this matter. What now?

Now, I'm going to administer
a flipping clobbering.


Zoink! Zoink! Zoink!

So, clearly it is important to know
the bases of self-defence.

Yes. What are the bases of self-defence,
Mr Cholmondley Warner?

Yes, what are they?

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner]
A chunky desperado

confronts you with larcenous intent.

You have several ways of defeating him.
One, raise your hat in apparent greeting.

With the instinctive deference
of his class,

the burly fellow will automatically remove
his cap and wring it with both hands...

Evening, guvnor. Wizard weather
we're having, isn't it? Not half.

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner]
...thus rendering himself harmless.

You are now free to escape.

Lorks a lummy!
Me intended victim's perishing gone!

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner] Number two.

Hook him unexpectedly with your umbrella,
then extend your knee and over he goes.

[yelps] I'm pretty well upended.

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner] Then simply sit
on the ruffian until a constable arrives.

Good evening, officer.

I've apprehended a scallywag
for you to cuff.

Well, I've learnt my lesson
and no mistake.

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner] Number three.

Pretend to go along with his requests.
Remove your watch

and then at the moment of handing it over,
hypnotise the ruffian.

Oh! I'm in a perishing, puzzling trance.

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner] Number four.

Drop to your hands and knees.

His centre of gravity disorientated,
he will capsize over you.

Blimey, stone me if me blasted centre
of gravity ain't not been disorientated.

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner] And five.

Drop to your knees, his attempted punch

will consequently miss
its intended target.

Where the devil's my intended victim
'opped it to?

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner]
Whereas yours will be deadly.

Oh, ya.

So there you are.





hands and knees,

and finally, knees.

It's a simple phrase that's easy
to remember.


Why, Mr Cholmondley Warner,
that's a simple phrase

that's easy to remember
because it spells... "huwakk."

- Well, so it does.
- Huwakk.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

Ah, reet. I remember now.

It was on that Tomorrow's World, right,
there's this new electric bicycle.

And what happens is if you pedal
really hard on the way up the hill,

you divvn't even have to pedal
on the way down.

No, wait a minute, that's a normal bike,
isn't it?

Ah, give me a minute.

[both screaming]

- Waynetta!
- What?

- Stop yelling!
- Sorry, but I'm feeling a little tense!


- Oh, Waynetta, this is stupid!
- No, Wayne, we are doing very well!

- Very well indeed!
- But we proved we can do it!

We proved we got willpower!
Now give us a fag!

No, Wayne! Never again
will a cigarette pass between our lips!

- So don't even think about it!
- But I can't think of anything else!

Nor can I.

- I know, let's try compulsive eating.
- Good idea.

- How d'you feel?
- Desperate for a fag.

- Wayne.
- What!

I know something that'll make you
take your mind off it.

I want a fag!

- Better?
- I want a fag!

No, Wayne! We have given up smoking!
It's bad for your health!

Hang on. Can you smell something?

[both] A fag!

Good old Canoe. This doesn't count.

- [baby crying]
- Oh, bollocks! One won't hurt.

Yeah, and one for me!

[groans with relief]

Well done, love. We done very well.
We gived up for three whole minutes.

Well done, lover.

Did you see that documentary
the other night, about that country?

I forget its name but one of the countries
of the world, right?

And, uh, there's a war and one side
wants something

and the other fellas didn't, and uh...

they reckon they'll find a cure
for cancer one day.

Ah, it was a good programme, that.

I mean, that's the trouble
with these mega celebrities, Frank.

They think you're always gonna be
pleased to see 'em,

but they need guidelines
and parameters like anyone else.

Oh, you're absolutely right.

I mean, I admire Jackson.

Oh, Jackson's a consummate
weirdo entertainer.

Absolutely, I mean,
he's had his fair share of problems,

but Jackson would be welcome to join
the wife and myself for a week's camping

in North Wales if he so wished.

As long as he mucked in
with the chores, eh, George?

Oh, he'd have to muck in with the chores,
Frank, yes.

And refrain from going, "Oh!"
the whole bleedin' time.

But explain that to him all on day one
with the threat of a slap

and everything'd be hunky-dory.

But, if Presley turned up, wanting to join
her husband on holiday,

and wasn't prepared to pull her weight
around the camp site,

I should say, "Oi! Presley, no!

Some of us are trying to make this holiday
a success!

But you, you just laze around
all day, looking like your dad!

Now, get up off your fat celebrity
pampered arse

and empty the chemical toilet!"

She'd be chastened, George.

I mean, if Richard turned up at our house
with his acoustic guitar,

to serenade the wife and I
with "Summer Holiday,"

we'd welcome him in with open arms

for an enjoyable trip
down musical memory lane.

But if Richards turned up with Wood,
Watts, Wyman and Jagger in tow,

amplifiers, drum kits, the lot,
and started bashin' out

"Honky Tonk Woman" at 1000 decibels
in our front room...

I'd be out at the main junction box
under the stairs in a flash. Wham! Off!

Oi! Stones! No!

Give 'em all a slap...

This is not the time or the place
for a spontaneous reunion! Now, hop it!

Not very likely, though, is it, Frank?

What do you mean? I'm as good as them.
I'm as good as any of these people!

There's nothing wrong with me!

No, no, I meant it's not very likely
that Richard and Richards

and all the other Stones turn up
at your house on the very same day,

what with their varied schedules
and that.


George, I meant on separate occasions!

You are a tit sometimes!

See that Beadle the other night?
Ah, was that funny, wasn't it?

This bloke, right,
he'd just got a brand new car, right,

and he smashed it up.

No, Beadle smashed it up
and it was brand new like,

and the bloke's havin' a laugh.

Oh, no, he's a bit miffed, like,

and he says, "Yeah. Beadle, man," he says,
"That's my car, Jeremy Beadle, man."

And Beadle, like, gives him a dirty
great smack on the gob, like,

'cause he's dead pissed-off, like.

The other bloke smashed up his car,
and he's Jeremy Beadle, like,

and he needs to get from A to B
in a hurry,

what with his busy TV schedule and that.

No, the other bloke smashed Beadle,

'cause like, it was his car
that was smashed up.

Hang on. That can't be right.
He didn't actually smash it up.

It was another car, right,
that looked like his car.

So, why would he have smacked Beadle?

Well, it was dead funny, anyway.

[classical music playing]

[birds chirping]

- Hard cheese, Rupert.
- Thanks, Rupert. Your turn, Rupert.

[electrical buzzing]


I say! Great heavens!

I will be needing your blazers,
your flannels and your floppy hair.

Take off your clothes immediately.

What a wizard idea!
Skinny dipping in the lake.

Last one in's an oink.

- [boy] Rather!
- [boy 2] Come on, boys! Don't be so silly!

- [boy] Come on, Rupert. Come on, Rupert!
- [all laughing]

May I help you, sir?

I've come to kill
Lord Fotherington Carstairs.

I'm afraid Lord Fotherington Carstairs
won't be back until dinner.

Perhaps you'd care to join
his other house guests until then.


[butler] Thank you, sir.

Forgive me, sir. I couldn't help
noticing your German accent.

We do so admire your Mr Hitler.

Good shot, Rupert!
That makes two you've bagged.

- Ever done much shooting, Mr Terminator?
- A little.

[machine gun fire]

Hasta la vista, pheasant.

[dog whimpering]

Good shot.

[classical music playing]

So who is our mysterious guest
then, Mr Hopkins?

I do not believe, Miss Thomson,
that it is the business

of those below stairs to know the identity
of any mystery guest

His Lordship chooses to invite
into his home. Our business is to serve.

Be it a distinguished gentleman
from America

or a model DX940 killer robot
from the future.

[playing funky music]

The dinner is served.

So, Mr Terminator, didn't we meet
at Poppy Askew's canasta bash last summer?

Impossible. Last time I was eradicating
rebel humanoids in Alpha Sector.

Gosh, that sounds like a bit of a lark.

[woman] Hopkins, would you fill
Lord Fotherington Carstairs' glass?

- You are Lord Fotherington Carstairs?
- Yes.

Then die.

Good Lord, he's used the wrong knife!

That makes me
Lord Fotherington Carstairs now.

- Then I must kill you.
- Not with a dessert spoon, I hope.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you'd care
to retire to the drawing room

for coffee and fainting.

A word in your ear, sir.

It's simply not the done thing
to assassinate one's host of a dinner.

I am programmed to destroy.

Well, if I may be so bold, sir, the way
to destroy a young gentleman in this era,

is to insinuate he's having an affair
with a member of the lower classes.

[Terminator] Pay attention.

So, the new Lord Fotherington Carstairs,

what's all this I hear about you
and the housekeeper?

No, Mother. I'll handle this.

You might as well know the truth.

I am in love with someone...

but not the housekeeper.

I'm in love with you, Mr Terminator.


[Lord Fotherington Carstairs II]
Oh, not in the drawing room!

In the library!

Right. I've got a joke for you.

Bloke goes into an iron bar, right,
and, whoops, he's hit his head.

Aw, I've mucked it up, haven't I?


The show's not over...
until the fat bloke sings.

[singing "Lord Bless Africa"]