Harry Enfield and Chums (1994–1999): Season 2, Episode 6 - Episode #2.6 - full transcript

The Randy Old Ladies attack the milkman, and Kevin loses his virginity.

[theme music playing]



[clears throat]

Two pints of lager, please, mate.

Get out!

Now, as I'm sure you all know,
from this morning,

the shop is under new management.

If I may allay any fears you might have,

I feel sure that the new owner
will not be rushing to alter the business,

even though his fortune was made
in the scrap metal trade. Now--

- [bang]
- [dogs barking]

Right! Changes!
One, greasy Alsatians.

Two, out of tune radio.
Never turn it off.

Three, this shop is under new management.
My son Jason, who is backward,

his common-law wife Shinee, who is a tart,

and my grandson Dale,
who has special needs!


This is your insurance.
And lastly, but by no means leastly,

big metal fence!


["Sultans of Swing" playing]


[stutters] H-- Hello, M-- Marcus.

Oh, Tim.

- Marcus.
- Tim, Tim, Tim.

- M-- Marcus.
- Tim...


- Tim.
- I was just practicing some shots,

- happened to have the record on.
- Oh, right!

So, uh, why have you got one of my
rugby socks tied around your head?

- Oh, right.
- You see, the thing is, Tim,

I'm gonna have to tell all your friends
what a sad little man you are.


Please don't do that, Marcus.

I-- I'll give you all the money I've got
in the world.

Hmm... And?

- And my flat.
- Hmm... And?

- And my car.
- Hmm.

- Well, just one more thing, then.
- Right.

- I do still want to tell all your friends.
- Okay, done.

- Phew! Got out of that one.
- Cheerio, Tim.

Thanks, Marcus.


Good old Marcus. What a thoroughly,
absolutely splendidly, bloody nice bloke.

Here you go, kiddie! Over 'ere!

Thank you.

On your head, kiddo!

[both laugh]

- [knock at door]
- Yeah?

[door opens]

- Joey, hi. You wanted to see me.
- Hi, David. Yeah, sure, uh...

Okay, uh, I'd just like
to talk about the scene we're doing today.

There's this line I have to do,
"I'd rather see the Turkish sabres

at Sebastopol than trifle with your..."

"With your affections,
Miss Heatherington."

It's a beautiful line.

It's a great line, David,
it's a great line.

But I thought, uh, maybe,
instead of saying that, I should say,

[imitating a cat]


- I feel that the way it was, was, uh--
- What?


Why don't we get the writer in on this?

[indistinct chatter]

- Keith! Come here a minute!
- Excuse me.


- Hi, Keith. How are you?
- Very well, thank you.

Okay Keith,
I have an improvement to your script

and David maybe
is having a problem understanding it.

So, perhaps you can clarify this for him,

- All right.
- There's this line,

"I'd rather face the Turkish sabres
at Sebastopol than trifle

with your affections,
Miss Heatherington."

- Yeah, yeah, I like that. Thank you.
- Beautiful line.

It's a beautiful line, Keith,

but I thought, maybe,
instead of that, I should say,

[imitating a cat]

- [stifling a sob] Don't do that.
- I don't need this!

[sobbing] Don't do that!

[screams] You know, I don't need this!
I don't need this!

I tell you what, Frank.

For me, the forecaster's forecaster
has gotta be Fish.

Oh, yeah. It seems a shame that Fish
had to remain in the weather studio

and couldn't go out and enjoy
the recent spell of good weather

he so rightly predicted.

I would imagine the atmosphere
in the TV weather studio would be close,

- if not positively muggy.
- Muggy!

And in these circumstances,

I'd be delighted to lend Fish
my deck chair.

Oh, he'd be welcome to come
and sit on our patio.


if he got bored and started swinging
on our garden gate,

and lobbing empty crisp packets
and cans of Tango all over my lawn,

I should go, "Oi, Fish!


I'd give him a slap,
tie him up with electrical cable,

dump him into the boot of my car
and chuck him down a disused mine shaft

under cover of darkness.

Oh, you gotta take a firm line
with these celebrities, Frank.

Oh, you can't have celebrities
behaving like kids.

I mean, I admire Turner,
she's a lovely girl.

Since she stopped doing the lottery,
it has become shit.

But if she got over-excited in my garden,

started monopolizing the paddling pool

and lobbing jelly and ice cream
at other young TV presenters,

I should go, "Oi, Turner! No!

I admire your bubbly,
bland TV personality,

but now you're just showing off!

You're an adult, Turner. Act your age.

Get out of the paddling pool
and say sorry to Schofield and Mayo!

Look, you've made 'em cry!"

- I take that you haven't forgotten--
- If you feel sick on the journey,

I'll get Daddy to stop, darling.
Don't worry.

If you would do me courtesy of
just listening to me for one millisecond?

- Thank you. Did you remember to bring--
- Don't!


It's the same every year.
[scoffs] Isn't it, David?

All I was asking is, "Did you bring
the address of the hotel?"

Well, I did, but then I thought to myself,
"No, no, no. We don't need that."

So, I threw it away
and I packed a Dalek instead.

Ho, ho, ho. My sides have split.

[wife] Well, of course I'll remember
to bring the address of the bloody hotel.

[husband] See, that's the problem
with your mother, David.

[wife] Don't listen to your father, David.
You don't want to grow up like him.

[David] Mum! Dad!

Oh, what a lovely picture, Harry.

Well done.

Lulu, come.

Mom, Lulu! Oh, Lulu!

Lulu! Lulu, no. Not the wall.

Lulu, naughty.

- Naughty Lulu!
- Harry!

- Bad Lulu!
- [Lulu cries]

No, Harry.
How many times have I told you,

you must not hit your little sister!

And why didn't you stop her drawing
on the wall?

Go to your room.


[Lulu and Harry crying]

We've lived in this house
since we were first married and...

Uh, both Clive and I were actually born
in the village.

[Clive] Yes, of course, place changed
dramatically over the last few years.

- [Edith] Yeah.
- [Clive] Yes. Local shop

- closed about ten years ago.
- [Edith] Yes, it was like that.

[Clive] And, uh, even up until then,
most of the houses were owned

by people born in the vicinity.

Now, of course,
they're all owned by outsiders

just come up for the weekend.

Anyway, a couple of years ago, we decided,
if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, really.

So, when the townies come down here,

- we go up to London. [chuckles]
- We go up to London. Yeah.

[Clive] We're staying with friends,
so we don't need much luggage.

♪ Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner ♪

♪ But I love London so ♪

[Clive] I drop the car
at Chorleywood tube station.

We pick some liquid refreshment up
at the offie,

so we don't arrive empty-handed.

And then for the whole weekend we just
use public transport, like real Londoners.

[Edith] By the time we get
to Oxford Circus,

we're usually in the mood for some fun.


Oh, look at that!

- Hello. You stupid slag.
- Piss off!

You talk to my friend like that?

[Clive] Uh, we love the theatre.

You never know who
you're gonna bump into there.

Will you give us some dosh?
We need some dosh-- [yelps]

You're a bitch on heat!

Here, love! [groaning]

[Edith] We treat ourselves and eat out
every night.

Such fun.

[Clive] Edith does the cooking all week
at home.

She's a tremendous cook,

but, uh, I think she values having
the weekend away from the kitchen.

Ta-- Taxi!

[Clive] All in all, it's a chance
to be irresponsible and naughty,

to leave all the cares and worries
of the countryside far behind us.

Just hang out with friends
and enjoy ourselves.

Give us a shag!

Bastard! Oxford won the bloody boat race!

[Edith] Anything can happen.

Expect the unexpected.

It's the relaxation more than anything.

- [Edith] Hmm.
- [Clive] Hmm.

[Clive] That was marvellous,
wasn't it, darling?

[Edith] Tremendous fun.

It's nice to go away every weekend.
One does get so tired of all this.

Hello there, it's me,
Captain Stefan Van Der Haast Graacht

of the Amsterdam police again,
with my partner,

and also I'm happy to say,
my lover, Ronald.

[yelps] Honestly, like in any big city,
we're having ourselves crime.

Burglary was a very big problem here
but we are proud of the way we tackled it,

because since we legalized burglary,
there is no longer a problem.

The only real problem of social disorder
that remains here is,

I'm sorry to say, the English boys.
Well, drinking too much

and fighting always with themselves. Ouch!

Well, we take a very strict approach
with these, um, people.

And are arresting them and taking them
to the police station where they are put

in the custody of the WPCs.

That is the Women Prostitute Constables.

And they are giving them some excellent
hard-core sex and soft drugs,

after which they become quite pleasant.

So, we are also giving them some tickets
for Ajax matches. Evening, all.

Miss Hetherington,

I have noticed that your usual
high spirits have been sadly absent.

I must know your intentions,

[imitating a cat]


Great. Great, Joey. Now, we've got
18 lovely takes of that.

Now, could we just try it with the line
in the script, do you think?

- What? Jesus!
- [stutters] As we talked about.

Of course, I'll do it, David!
What is your goddamned problem?

[David] Fine, perfect, lovely.

Turnover. Action!

I must know your intentions,

[imitating a cat]


- Joey.
- David.

That was not quite the line, was it?


What is your problem, David?
I mean, what is your goddamned problem?

Lunch, everybody.

[in German accent] Good morning.
Please could you change

these 500 Deutschmarks
for pounds sterling?

Thank you.

Hmm. It is a particularly good rate
of exchange today.

I feel I must apologize for the strength
of my nation's currency

and also for the abysmal behaviour
of my nation during the war.

Good day to you.

[knock at door]

Door's open, milkman.

- Morning, young man.
- Morning. I've come for my money.

That's right, young man.
It's over there, on the table.

Can't you bring it to me?

Oh, my hip's causing me devilish problems.

I can hardly walk.
Can you get it yourself, young man?

[milkman sighs]

- Where's your sister?
- She's not very well.

She's had to go to the hospital.

- All right.
- Oh, thank you, young man,

you are so kind.

Yes, I'm all alone here,
just me and now you.

It's all there, all the money.
In payment for your lovely, creamy milk

that I enjoy putting in my mouth
and drinking, so much.

[milkman grunts]

- Oh, well done, Glad!
- He's out cold!

Oh, I like 'em passive! Young man!

Oh, young man!

Skate on your plate!
Kipper for your nipper!

- [whines]
- Conger lasts longer!

All styles and types of fish on your dish!


- What's the matter with you, Lance?
- My girlfriend's ditched me!

Oh, I'm sorry, Lance.

- Hang about, you haven't got a girlfriend!
- No, my imaginary girlfriend.

- Your imaginary girlfriend?
- Yeah.

For the last five years I've imagined
I've had this girlfriend

and last night I've imagined
it's all come to an end.


Did you have an imaginary friend
when you were a kid, Lance?

Yeah. Well as it goes,
he was quite nice bloke, yeah.

- Yeah, what was his name?
- Lance.

And now you've got
an imaginary girlfriend.

Not any more, I ain't! [whines]

So, well, what happened then, Lance?

Well, you know, you know
what it's like with women. [scoffs]

You know, she wanted more from me,
you know, like a solid commitment

to the imaginary future.
You know what I mean?

You know, like marriage and kids and that
and I just weren't ready for all of that,

- you know. Yeah.
- Yeah. I think you're right, Lance.

You know, you're still young. Aren't you?

You want to play the imaginary field
a bit, don't you?

Yeah. I mean, last night, you know,

we had this stupid imaginary row
over her mum.

We were supposed to go around there
for Sunday lunch, right?

Do you go there every week?

Yes, she does a very good lamb
and two imaginary veg.

Anyway, so I just said to her,
I said, you know,

"Can't we just have this one Sunday alone,

by ourselves?" Well, cor blimey!
She's gone out the wall.

And she's just thrown back everything
I've ever done for her, right in my face

- and stormed out, never to return.
- Oh.

What does she look like then,
this imaginary girlfriend of yours?

Oh, she was all right, you know.

What, only all right?

Yeah, she had quite a nice body,

but she had like a funny turn in her eye,
you know.

Know what I mean? You know...

you could never really tell whether
she was looking at you or not, you know.

Lance, I hope I'm not being
insensitive here

but why don't you get yourself
a new imaginary girlfriend?

And this time imagine her to be beautiful
and someone you get on with?

Oh, yeah. That's a brilliant idea, yeah.
I never thought of that.

You know, with Pamela Anderson's legs.

- Oh, yeah.
- Pamela Anderson's bum.

- Oh, yeah.
- Yeah. Pamela Anderson's threepenny bits!

Yeah. Pamela Anderson's brain!

Oh, yes, she's gorgeous.
Yeah, I think I love her! Yeah.

I think I might take her up Stringfellows

Can I go home early and get ready?

- All right then, Lance. Off you go.
- Wow, cheers!

Give her an imaginary one from me.



You dirty bugger.

It's my turn with her tonight.

- Alistair Stewart? No.
- Yes.

- It's massive.
- Oof.

Oh, hello.

This is the man I was telling you about.
Hello again.

I'm his friend.

Isn't he fast? I was telling him
how fast you were.

- Ooh, he's just a blur.
- Ooh.

Shut up!

Oh, quite right. We gotta be quiet
during the race.

Oh, right.

Stop it!

It's not me,
I'm not doing anything. It's you.

Shut up, will you?
Will you shut up?

- Well. I've never been so insulted.
- Well.

- Politeness costs nothing, you know.
- Come on, Edward.

I think we've had quite enough
of this man's company for the moment.

- We forgive you.
- We forgive you.

♪ He lives in a box
He looks like a corpse ♪

♪ He's dead, of course ♪

[voiceover] The amazing Mr Dead.

This week, "This Time It's Personal."

- Hey, who's that guy?
- Well, Wendell, that's Mr Dead.

Heck, that guy was staring at my girl
at the dance.

No, Wendell, he weren't staring at nobody.
Mr Dead just looks that way.

You gonna apologize, mister,
or am I gonna punch your face in?

[voice of Mr Dead]
Now, steady on, big guy.

You punch me, you're gonna regret it.

[corpse squelches]

I told ya I'd punch your face in.

[voice of Mr Dead]
And I told you you'd regret it.

♪ He's dead, of course ♪

- [indistinct chatter]
- [music playing]

Kev, who's that little girl over there
talking to Ben and Sally?

- That's Sam.
- Cor, I really fancy her, Kev.

I really wanna get off with her, you know.
I got the horn!

- I'll ask her for you, if you like.
- No! No, no, no, no, no.

- All right then, I won't. All right.
- Yeah, go on, then.

- You Sam, yeah?
- Yeah.

- You're, uh, Kevin, ain't you?
- Yeah.

D'you know my mate Perry?

- Nah.
- He wants to get off with you, yeah.

She don't wanna snog ya.

Good, that's what I was hoping
would happen.

- Oh, Kevin.
- Huh?

- You have got a condom, haven't you?
- No.

[stuttering] I mean, I did have one,
but I lost it.

Kevin, we can't do it, then, can we?


Oh, Kevin.

Look what I found. Come on!


Oi. Oi! Do you like football?

What do you think you're doing,
you bloody punk?


Do you like football?

Get off me!

Listen, I'm just gonna go downstairs
and get us a fag. All right?

All right.

Don't go away. [giggles]


[Kevin whistling]

Good morning, Mum!

Morning, Dad!

Lovely morning, isn't it?

- Uh, I-- I'll make a fresh pot.
- Don't worry, I'll do it.

What are you folks up to today, then?

Well, I-- I'm going to the supermarket.

Oh. Do you want a hand?

- I'll come with you, if you like.
- Yes.

- Okay.
- Great!

Do you fancy going to the football this
afternoon, Dad?

You-- You want me to go to the football
with you?

If that's all right by you.

- Okay.
- [Kevin] Great.

[doorbell rings]

Don't worry, Mum. I'll get it.

- All right, Kev?
- Hi, Perry. Nice to see you.

Enjoy the party last night?

- Oh, yeah.
- Great!

Kev, you wanna come out
and do something?

Oh, I'd love to, Perry,

but I'm going shopping with Mum,
then I'm going to the football with Dad,

- and tonight I'm seeing Sam.
- Oh, right.

Maybe we can do something
tomorrow, though.

- Okay.
- Great. I'll look forward to that!

- Righto. Bye.
- Bye, Perry. Nice to see you.

[football commentator]
Giggs now. To Cantona!

Back to Giggs! Oh, he goes around one!
He's around another! He cuts inside.

He's gonna go all the way, you know.
Surely. Yes! What a goal!

Right, uh, could I have that,
uh, Wombles single, please?

Thank you. And could I have
the New Seekers record?

Okay. And could I have that
Little Jimmy Osmond one there?

And the, ooh, the Kajagoogoo single...

And could I have Paul McCartney's
"Frog Chorus," please?


Perhaps now I can leave the flat
for five minutes

without you making a complete tit
of yourself.

Cheerio, Marcus.

[door closes]

[Irish music playing]