Harry Enfield and Chums (1994–1999): Season 1, Episode 4 - Episode #1.4 - full transcript

[theme music playing]

[applause]

- Oh, hello love.
- [sighs]

- Did you get that stuff for my bad breath?
- Yeah.

- Here's a lager and here are your fags.
- Thanks.

[radio clicks]

["Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye playing]

- Wayne?
- What?

Do you remember the first time we--
You know, you and I?

- What?
- The first time.

- What?
- You know, the first time we,



you and me, the first time...

- What?
- The first time we had sex.

[spits] Urgh!

Waynetta, please!
I'm trying to eat me fourth supper.

- What about it, anyway?
- Nothing. Don't matter.

["Sexual Healing"
by Marvin Gaye continues playing]

♪ Sexual ♪

[volume increases]

♪ Healing, baby ♪

♪ Ooh baby,
Makes me feel ♪

♪ So fine ♪

♪ Helps to relieve my mind ♪

♪ Sexual Healing baby ♪

♪ Sexual Healing
Is something that's good for me ♪



♪ Whenever blue tear drops are falling ♪

♪ And my emotional stability
Is leaving me ♪

♪ There is something I can do ♪

♪ I can get on the telephone
And call you up baby ♪

♪ Honey I know you'll be there
To heal me ♪

♪ The love you give to me will free me ♪

♪ If you don't know
The thing you're dealing ♪

♪ Oh I can tell you, darling,
That it's Sexual Healing ♪

♪ Let's make love tonight ♪

♪ Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up ♪

♪ 'Cause you do it right ♪

♪ Sexual healing ♪

♪ Baby I got sick this morning ♪

♪ A sea was storming inside of me ♪

♪ Baby I think I'm capsizing ♪

♪ The waves are rising and rising ♪

♪ And when I get that feeling ♪

♪ I want Sexual Healing ♪

Fergie, get back in your basket!

♪ Sexual Healing is good for me ♪

♪ Makes me feel so fine
It's such a rush ♪

♪ Helps to relieve the mind
And it's good for us ♪

♪ Sexual healing, baby
It's good for me ♪

♪ Sexual Healing is something
That's good for me ♪

♪ Sexual healing and it's so good ♪

- No!
- [radio clicks]

[grunts] Ah!

- What happened?
- It was that sexy healing record again.

- Oh, I didn't, did I?
- Not quite.

Ooh, thank God for that!
Last time I was in splints for a month.

Waynetta?

Seeing as you're all, uh, dressed up...

Yes?

Could you go out and get us another pizza?

[indistinct chatter]

Excuse me, sport. I hope you
don't mind me interrupting.

- No, that's okay.
- Only the-- the wife and I

noticed that we happen to be considerably
richer than you.

I'm sorry?

We appear to be considerably richer
than you.

- Is that a fact?
- Oh yes, I mean, just look at our clothes.

We wear Chanel and Pierre Cardin.
Our friends here wear Next and C&A.

Thank you, Pam. Proof, indeed
that we are considerably richer than you.

Lucky old you.

- Luck? Luck?
- Luck? Luck?

Did you say luck?

- Nah! Luck's got nothing to do with it.
- Luck? [chuckles]

I became considerably richer
than you through honest hard work.

You get what you pay for and you earn
what you're worth.

Oh, that's one of Stanley's
little sayings, that is.

Do you know, my Stanley probably makes
more money in a year than you do in ten.

What you think of that, then, sport?

Gosh!

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but...

isn't every financial decision you make
a struggle?

- Look--
- Not for us, it isn't.

- [sighs]
- Ah, yes. Money's done me proud.

- I mean, just look at me wife.
- Oh.

I mean, nothing dowdy
about my Pammy, is there?

No offence, pet.

- My Pammy's as pretty as a picture.
- Oh, Stanley!

It's true!

Do you know, she's as beautiful as the day
I married her. I'll tell you for why.

Every time a bit of her starts to drop,
we whip her into surgery for an uplift.

Mm-hmm, Stanley's right.

Oh, yes!
The surgeon's knife's had the lot of it.

Face, stomach, thighs, bum.

And I've had me titties done.
They're good, aren't they?

I like 'em!

Oh, yes! I'm a self-made man
and she's me man made wife.

That's one of Stanley's little sayings,
that is.

How long are you here for,
then, young couple?

Just a week.

- Aw!
- Aw!

All they could afford, Stanley.

Oh well, never mind.
We'll look after you for the week.

Hey, that's good of us, isn't it?

Calls for celebration, then!

Pedro, you lazy oaf!

- Get your big bum over here!
- Yes, Mr Herbert?

Two champagne cocktails, sport,

and two glasses of sangria
for our friends there.

And none of your usual ambling.
Chop, chop.

[chuckles] Pedro thinks
Stanley's a character,

- don't you Pedro?
- Indeed, Mrs Herbert.

[speaking in Spanish]

Oh, no, no, no!
You didn't have to speak the lingo.

Oh, no! The only lingo these people
understand is the language of money.

Do you know? Stanley and I have been
coming here 15 years

and we pride ourselves
on never speaking a word of Spanish.

Hey! I said pronto,
not half an hour, you dozy dago!

Ah, Mr Herbert, you are a real character.

[speaking in Spanish]

Cheers, sport.

- [speaking in Spanish]
- Cheers.

- [whistling]
- [bell rings]

- Good morning, madam.
- Mornin', darlin'.

- Hello. Pound of sausages, please.
- Certainly, my love.

- Pound of sausages, please Lance.
- Right.

There you go.

No, that's a chicken, Lance.
Sausages are the round ones, there.

I'm training him up, madam.
That's a lovely dress you've got on.

- Oh, do you really think so?
- Oh, yes. Beautiful.

Terrific cut of the cloth.
Flatters your assets. You look lovely!

Oh, my husband said it made me
look a bit fat.

- Your husband said that?
- Who done that?

Her husband.

He said that to you? He done that to you?
You wanna chuck him out.

You wanna string him up my love,
that's what you want to do!

Better still, right?
Wait till he's asleep, right?

And then feed him some crisps.

So when he wakes up in the morning,
he's got a mouthful of soggy crisps.

Lance is right, madam. You wanna smash
his rib cage with a mallet.

Yeah! Or better still, right?
Wait till he's asleep

and then put some shaving foam
on his hand, like that,

and tickle his nose so he goes like that,
and it all goes over his nose.

Lance is right, madam. What you want to do
is get a very long, thin drill bit, right?

And then bend his leg at the knee, right?

Get a Black & Decker,
drill through his kneecap,

straight out through the bone of his leg
shatter his pelvis,

puncture his lung so he half drowns
in his own blood,

before finally piercing his heart.

Yeah! Or better still, right?
Wait till he's asleep

and take his dog out
for a really long walk

so when he gets up in the morning
and tries to take it out,

it don't want to go and he's flummoxed.

Lance is right, madam.
You wanna drown him in farm slurry.

Yeah, or better still, right?
Wait till he's asleep, right?

And move all the furniture
around in his bedroom

so it's exactly the opposite
of where it was,

paint the white things black,
the black things white

and when he wakes up, he'll think
he's a negative back from the chemist.

Lance is right, madam.

You want to chop his bollocks off
and stick 'em in his mouth.

Here's your sausages.

I don't think I want them anymore.

Ah, probably a wise choice, madam.
I don't know if it's you or the dress,

but you could do with staying
off the old bangers for a while.

Cheerio fatty!

[bell rings]

[whistling]

[hip hop music playing]

- Okay, Kevin.
- Move, move, move, move.

- Can we turn over now, please?
- What!

We want to watch the news.

It's my favourite bloody one!

- Kevin you've been watching MTV all night.
- It's not MTV, it's BOX!

Well, whatever it is.
It's time for the news.

- Ugh.
- Now, give me the remote.

- Ugh, it's so unfair! I hate you!
- Thank you.

- [news music playing]
- [electronic bleeping]

- Can you turn that down, please?
- Why?

- We can't hear the news.
- I can hardly bloody hear it!

Well why don't you go and play it
in your bedroom?

'Cause it's not my bloody bed time!

- All right?
- Right.

- That's it!
- What you doing darling?

This won't take long.

Ugh, so unfair!

- Kevin?
- What?

I think we should have a little talk
about sex.

[moans]

Now, one day,

- you'll be having sex, Kevin.
- [whimpers] Me?

- So, you want to know about contraception?
- [whimpering] No.

- Now this is a condom, or a Rubber Johnny.
- [whimpering]

Have you started getting erections yet,

- Kevin?
- Nah, going to bed!

- Goodnight, Kevin.
- Goodnight, darling!

Brilliant!

- Good evening, Greyson.
- Yes.

Now, we're all familiar
with the diseases of the foot,

and the tongue.

But the most terrifying diseases
of all take place in the mind.

They are known by the collective term
of madnesses.

The three most common forms of madness
are as follows.

[footsteps approaching]

Hello, boyo! Terrible, isn't it?
Coal mining!

Being Welsh.

A very good evening to you, ducky.

Being homosexual.

And...

Good evening, young Miles.
My, how you've grown.

Being an aunt.

But there are other equally terrifying
forms of madness,

which my colleague, Greyson,
will now demonstrate.

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner] Number one,
paranoia.

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

Ah! Why do you wish to kill me, man?

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner] Number two,
schizophrenia.

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

[groans] Aargh!!

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner] Number three,
causing a hullabaloo.

Hello, Greyson. Have you recovered
from your recent schizophrenia?

- Hullabaloo! Hullabaloo! Hullabaloo!
- Stop that din, you madman!

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner] Number four,
speaking in tongues.

How are your mother's corns, Greyson?
Have they been removed yet?

[speaking in foreign language]

That's an interesting African dialect,
Greyson. Where did you learn it?

[speaking in foreign language]

- Very well done, Greyson.
- [speaking in foreign language]

[Mr Cholmondley-Warner] Number five,
thinking you're a farmyard hen.

- Good evening, Greyson.
- [clucking]

What are you sitting on, man?

There is only one cure
for this form of madness.

And that is to adopt the manner
of an enraged goose.

And honk the victim out
of his delirium, thus.

[honking]

Well, I must say, Greyson,
your demonstrations of madness today,

have been most convincing.

- Well done.
- Why, thank you Mr Cholmondley-Warner.

In fact, this demonstration
has been easy for me,

as my family has a history
of mental instability.

- Really, Greyson?
- Yes.

I have a brother who's been incarcerated
in an institution

since he was five years old.

My word. You've never mentioned
this before, Greyson.

We don't.

What led to his institutionalization?

Well, I wet the bed furiously
for many months and blamed it on him.

[laughs]

[laughs evilly]

This is Miles Cholmondley-Warner,
bidding you a very goodnight.

[man] And now, following the announcement
that Lady Sophie Dim-But-Royal

is to marry Mr Tim Nice-But-Dim...

We bring you the first exclusive interview
with the happy couple.

Uh, Lady Sophie, may I say, first of all,
how thrilled and delighted

we are at the good news.

Why? What's happened?

[chuckles]

What a tremendous sense of humour!

What a great deal of fun
you must have together.

Yeah, we do.
We prefer it to not having fun together.

It's more fun.

How exactly did the two of you first meet?

Well, uh, I sort of put out my hand
like this and said, "How do you do?

Tim Nice-But-Dim."

And I said, "I'm not Tim Nice-But-Dim."

Yeah, a bit of a misunderstanding there.

Oh, was this at the art gallery
where Lady Sophie works?

[Lady Sophie] No.

It’s at the art gallery where I ring up
my friends and organize dinner parties.

Charlie took me along with her
to gawp at some pictures.

And then, I saw this fantastically
dishy thing across the room.

- Lady Sophie?
- No, I saw a dish, actually.

Still life, with some oranges in it.
And an apple.

And a banana. And three grapes.

But underneath the picture was
this really, seriously attractive girl.

- Uh, Lady Sophie?
- No, Charlie's sister.

An absolute smasher. [snorts repetitively]

It was her who introduced me
to guess who?

Lady Sophie?

No, Salman Rushdie.
Bloody nice bloke.

Look, uh, isn't what happened,
that Tim came into the art gallery

and said he was interested in painting?

And you Lady Sophie said,
"Well, in that case

he can come around and paint my kitchen."
[chuckles]

What's so funny?
He made a bloody good job of it.

And so, you started seeing each other,

you fell in love
and you decided to get married.

Tim, did you ask her father first?

No, I didn't fancy her father.

Besides, he's already married.

To mummy, coincidentally.

Well, shall we, uh,
get on to the wedding then?

Well-- I-- I thought it wasn't till May.

Oh, it isn't. I-- I--
I just want to talk about it.

What's the honeymoon going to be?

It's going to be the bit
after we get married.

- A sort of holiday.
- We're going together.

Presumably, it's a secret.

No, I think everybody knows
it's the holiday after you get married.

- Talk about a thicko! [giggles]
- [Tim snorting]

Well, it only remains for me
to say, on behalf of the news,

may you have a long and happy marriage
and may you live in bliss.

Uh, Fulham, actually.

What a thoroughly bloody nice bloke,
eh, Soph'?

Bit dim.

Excuse me, sport. I hope
you don't mind me interrupting, but,

I couldn't help noticing that we appear
to be considerably richer than you.

I doubt it, mate.

I beg your pardon, mate?

I said I doubt that you're richer than me.

Ah, bog off! 'Course we are! Look at you!

No, I think not.

Oh, all right then,
how much money you've got?

Look, I don't really want to talk
about this actually, it's a bit vulgar.

Okay, pal. Have it your own way.
Fair enough.

Let's forget the money.
How big's your house?

- Which one?
- You what?

Which house?
My house in LA? In Paris?

On the Cap D'Antibes?
Or my Oxfordshire mansion?

Or my, uh.... Or my hotel?
The one you're sitting in at the moment.

[squeaks]

Look at his Rolex, Stanley.

Hooray, pal! You've had your bit of fun.
I hope you're pleased with yourself.

Some people, eh, Pammy?
Get a bit of money, goes to their heads.

Come on, let's go to Barbados
for the weekend.

[Pammy] Do your deep breathing, Stanley.

- How many cars have you got, you bastard?
- Stanley?

How many businesses have you built up
single-handedly in the West Midlands?

- Stanley!
- Cheap lil' punk!

[Pammy] Stanley!

- You piece of shit!
- [Pammy] Stanley!

I'll kill you!

[Stanley] I'll knock
your bloody teeth out!

♪ Feeling hot, hot, hot ♪

["Feeling Hot Hot Hot"
by The Merrymen playing over the radio]

Excuse me, this is a funeral service.

- We know.
- Why'd you think we're celebrating?

- [radio clicks]
- [music stops playing]

Yeah, you miserable bugger!

- Anyone would think this was a wedding.
- Yeah.

- He was our friend.
- No, he wasn't.

- Well, when we knew him, anyway.
- It was your fault he died.

Well, just 'cause I left the gas running?

It was you who gave him that cigar
and told him to light it after we'd gone.

Yeah. It was a big explosion.

- It was a very, very, very big explosion.
- Poor old Jack.

Rest in pieces!

[snickers]

What do you want, you old-- Ivy?

Alf.

Alf. My Alf.

Hello, Ivy.

Oh, you haven't lost your looks.

[dramatic music playing]

Who's that bitch?

- Just someone I used to know.
- Hmm.

It's a pity she didn't die in middle age.

'Cause she makes a truly
revolting old woman.

[groans]

Yeah...

[church bell tolling]

[sobs]

- What do you keep looking around for?
- Uh, I can't see that Ivy.

- That's 'cause she's not here, that's why.
- I thought she would've come on to this.

Why the sudden interest in her anyway?

No reason.

- [indistinct chatter]
- Leave, bitch!

Hmm. Let's go and pay our condolences
to the nearest and dearest.

Yeah.

[soft piano music playing]

You loved old Jack, didn't you?
And now he's gone.

Yeah.
All you've got left is a life of misery,

alone and in despair, heartbroken.

No more lovely evenings by the fireside.

You know what often happens
in these situations, don't you?

One partner dies,
the other one loses their will to live,

- and pines away.
- Pines away...

[dog whimpering]

Until...

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Fido's dead, in God we trust.

[snickers]

- [Ivy] Hello, Alf.
- Ivy!

Oh, not you again!

Why weren't you at Jake's wake,
the other day?

I couldn't take it, seeing you
after all these years.

- Oh, 55 years, eh?
- Yes.

[both chuckling]

I remember you, you were a little terror,
you were.

[giggles] Oh, yes. Did you know
what they used to call me at school?

- Poison Ivy!
- [both chuckling]

Poison Ivy? That's what they should
have done to you, not called you!

I've still got the ring.

- Our engagement ring!
- Yeah.

The one I gave you before I went off

- to fight Hitler's fascist hordes.
- [Ivy chuckles]

We never fought anyone in the war. We hid.

[snarls] Shut up!

Is it-- is it-- is it still valid?

It might be, my Ivy.

- It might just be.
- Oh.

[Ivy giggles]

- Alf! Alf!
- [Alf cooing]

Alf, come on, let's go frighten
some kiddies, eh?

Oh, my little diddums! My little one!

Alf, look! Alf!

Let's bury it alive, eh?

- Alf! Alf!
- [Alf giggling]

- Alf!
- [thud]

Oh, Alf!

Alf!

Yes! Yes!

Oh, my baby girl!

- [Alf] Oh, yes!
- Oh, no!

- [thud]
- [Ivy moaning]

No! No!

One step, two step,
tickle you under there!

- Oh, God! What do you look like?
- [Alf and Ivy chuckling]

- Hello, dinky-doos.
- Hello, piddly-pongo.

- Who's a naughty boy?
- [billing and cooing]

Here, here!
There's a terrible stink in here.

Here, and it's coming from you!

I remember that smell.
It's soap!

Oh, God! What have you done
to yourself, man?

- Fred?
- Yeah?

- Ivy and I are gonna tie the knot.
- Good.

Make sure it's round her neck!

Fred! We're getting married.
Aren't you happy for us?

No.

No.

- This little piggy went to market.
- No.

This little piggy stayed at home.

[sobs]

Alf...

Alf...

Oh, poor Fred!
He died of a broken heart.

Yeah, typical Fred.

He just couldn't bear me
finding happiness at last.

Still, look!
At least, he's taking it with him.

I'd like to take this opportunity
to read a poem,

from WHSmith, limerick department.

[coughs loudly]

"There was an old git called Fred,

Of whom I would like it said,

He's a sad loss to me,
but I've got his colostomy...

To remember him by now he's dead."

Here you are, my beauties.

Have a head start
on the ones in the ground.

[church bell ringing]

[Ivy] Whoo!

We should've done this 55 years ago.

I know, chicken, but we've still
got a good ten years left in us yet.

And we...

That's what you think!
[laughs ominously]

Ah!

Ah!

[church bell tolling]

Meh! You bugger!

I was only paying you back
for what you done to me.

Meh!

- Yeah! I'll do a deal with you.
- Yeah?

You can dance on my grave,
if I can dance on yours.

Done!

[both snickering]

- You're dead, you bugger!
- You're six foot under! You're miserable!

- ♪ Feeling hot, hot, hot ♪
- ♪ Feeling hot, hot, hot ♪

[applause]

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

♪ No, no, no, no, no, no ♪

♪ No, no, no
There's no limit ♪

♪ How much is that doggie in the window? ♪

♪ Woof, woof the one
With the waggly tail ♪

♪ Yo! Get down, you bitch
Get down, you bitch, whore, bitch! ♪