Harry Enfield and Chums (1994–1999): Season 2, Episode 9 - Harry Enfield's Yule Log Chums - full transcript
[man] Wayne Slob,
what's your philosophy of life?
Um, I stink,
therefore I am.
[theme music plays]
[Mrs Patterson]
Hello, Kevin,
how was school?
Hush, bitch, you're
interfering with my brain.
Oh, dear.
Oh, hello.
Who are you?
This is Jammy B.
He's our new friend,
don't dis him
or you in trouble, woman.
I see.
Hello, Jammy B.
Hello, Perry.
Mrs Patterson.
You look very nice today,
you bitch.
Thank you, Perry.
Please don't call me bitch.
Sorry.
Now, would you boys
like something to eat?
Eat? Ugh, got any drugs?
No, I haven't, Kevin,
surprisingly.
[groans]
Would you like baked beans
on toast?
- Oh.
- Marmite sandwich?
Oh, you are one sad whore.
Do you want something,
Jammy B?
Could I please have
a Marmite sandwich, please,
Mrs Patterson?
[Mrs Patterson] Certainly, Jammy B.
Would you like it toasted?
Yes, please, Mrs Patterson,
if it's not too much trou--
not too much trou--
not too much bother.
No bother at all.
Can I--can I please have some
beans on toast, please,
Mrs Patterson, you bitch?
Yo, Jammy, you wanna come
and see our room, it's really mad.
- Mad.
- Wicked.
Can we do our homework first
because I wanna get it out the way?
Oh, yeah, okay.
Excuse me.
Good morning, sir.
How may I help you?
Um, actually, I was interested
in buying this Rover.
Ooh, I wouldn't do that
if I were you, sir.
I've got to be honest with you,
the back end is a G reg,
the front end a J reg,
both right soft.
I've welded them together,
and re-sprayed it.
It's a death trap, sir.
Well, I admire your honesty.
I mean--
Honest John by name
and nature, sir.
You want a nice safe car
with a little baby,
and you won't get that here.
[chuckles]
Hello, little one.
- Boy or a girl?
- Boy.
- Matthew.
- Hello, little Matthew.
You're an ugly little bugger,
aren't you?
I beg your pardon?
Well, he ain't a looker,
is he, sir?
I mean to be honest,
he's a bit fat,
he's got a squint,
and just look at his hair.
- What's wrong with his hair?
- Well, he's a ginge, sir.
Nobody wants a ginger baby.
Ugh.
How dare you?
I was only being honest.
- Shall we go in my car?
- Yeah.
- Your car? You can't drive.
- Course I can, Dad.
But you're a--
- Gay people can drive.
- Really?
Uh, bugger me.
- Oh, uh.
- Shall we go?
[man] Uh, Tom, it's here.
- That's not my car, Dad.
- Are you sure?
[car beeps]
[woman] Thank you, David.
Uh, no, darling, why don't
you come in the back with me? [laughs]
Please?
I'd like to go in the front,
thank you.
Okay.
[engine revving]
Leather seats, hmm, kinky.
Actually, it's just easy
to wipe down.
Yes, of course, of course.
But why on earth
would you need to wipe down
the back seats of--oh, my God.
Ow.
My little niece is always
getting sweets stuck on it,
and because it's leather,
we can just wipe it down.
Oh, yes, of course.
Praise the Lord.
Very good gear changes,
Tom, very smooth, well done.
- It's automatic, Dad.
- Oh, right.
Mind you, probably sensible. I mean, less
dangerous for you to drive an automatic.
Why?
Well, you know, your type,
a great big gear stick
going in and out
of your hand all the time.
You'd get carried away,
wouldn't you? [laughs]
Then again, perhaps not.
Have to be careful here, Tom,
there's a bit of a bender in front.
I mean, obviously there's
a bender in front of me
because you're driving,
but I mean there's a bender in the road
coming up in front of you.
And nothing wrong with that.
A bent road is just as normal
as a straight road, I think, you'll find.
In fact, I don't even notice,
bent or straight,
I treat all roads
with exactly the same respect.
- [tyres screeching]
- [cars crash]
- Oh, Christ. Oh, Lord.
- Are you okay?
Yes, I'm fine. Thank you.
I'm sorry, mate.
I must've drifted off. I just--
- Don't worry, son, I'll deal with it.
- I'm sorry about my son, sir.
He's a--he's a--uh,
well, he shouldn't be driving anyway.
Um, now, here's my address,
uh, just send me the bill,
I'll pay for everything,
just leave my son alone.
He's a lovely boy, uh,
not that you need to know
he's a lovely boy,
I'm sure his sexuality's
no concern of yours.
Although obviously
if he wasn't a poof,
- your car would be all right.
- Dad, it's not my fault.
I know, son. It's your mother's and mine.
I've been thinking about it a lot.
We never should have given you
that Wendy house for your fourth birthday.
Dad.
Ah, I'll pay for everything.
Just please don't hit my son.
Dad, he went up my arse.
What, while I was getting out
of the car?
God, you guys get everywhere,
don't you?
Oh.
Uh.
Do you like your new cars
then, odd kid?
- Yes.
- What are you doing with them, love?
Issuing them with tickets.
This one's parked on a single
yellow line before 6:30,
and this one's three minutes
over the meter.
- Yeah?
- [boy] Yeah.
I want to be a traffic warden
when I grow up.
Hmm, over-cleaned,
under-cleaned,
and too much varnish.
Who's it by?
Nice tits though.
I like big tits.
Do you like big tits or nice tits?
Fluffy pubic hair is my thing.
Hmm.
Excuse me.
- Are you William Shakespeare?
- That's correct, yeah.
[laughs] Brilliant.
I just said to the wife, I said I bet
that's William Shakespeare
sitting over there. It is him, babe.
Because the wife and I,
like, we're real big fans
of, you know, all your stuff.
What was that one we saw recently?
That was funny.
What was it?
Comedy of Errors. Eh?
[laughs] That was blinding. Eh?
About the two blokes
who looked exactly the same
and they were getting mixed up
with each other and all that,
and one got it right old two
and eight, didn't they?
- Yeah.
- Glad you enjoyed it.
Yeah.
So, uh, what's the new one
called then?
- Uh, it's called Macbeth.
- Oh, right.
- Is that a comedy, is it?
- No, it's a tragedy.
Oh, that's a shame, isn't it?
Still, we'll look forward to it anyway.
Actually, I couldn't have your autograph,
could I, for the wife actually?
- Yeah?
- Sure.
- Certainly.
- I've got a bit of parchment here.
Could you put on it, um,
"To Joan, or not to Joan."
[laughs]
You know, that's my wife over there.
She was too shy to come over.
- Hello.
- [man] Silly, isn't she?
- Well, thanks very much, mate.
- Okay.
And, uh, good luck
with your new plays and that.
- Thank you.
- Sonnets and that.
- All right?
- Thank you very much.
- Okay. See you.
- Bye.
- [giggles]
- What was he like?
He was a nice bloke, yeah.
[man] Cor, Lulu, look at all the
great Christmas bargains at Safeburies.
Now, we can have organic
roast potatoes.
Mom will love Safeburies' home
mix turkey stuffing.
[screams]
It's not just the yuletide tinsel
that will sparkle in our home, Lulu.
With bargains
on household products,
Mum will really clean up this Christmas.
Hmm, Christmas pud.
Or how about some
Boxing Day Baked Beans?
- I reckon this Christmas is in the can.
- [screams]
Kiss the little duck.
[screams]
With so many Safeburies
seasonal bargains,
it's hard not to get carried
away, eh, Lulu?
Excuse me, is anyone
sitting here per chance?
No.
Phew.
I've just completed the purchasing
of all my presents
for my chums in the squat.
[laughs]
You have done your Christmas
shopping by now I hope?
Yeah.
[laughs]
You are looking forward to celebrating
Christmas with your family, I trust?
Oh, well, we give presents,
but we don't actually celebrate Christmas.
You don't celebrate Christmas?
Pray, may I ask, why ever not?
We're Jewish.
You are Jewish?
- That's right.
- You are a Jew?
Yes.
This is wonderful news.
I am Jurgen, I am a German.
It is nice to meet you, Jew.
Sidney.
I understand, you do not wish
to shake my hand
until I have apologized
for what my people
- did to your people during the war.
- Leave it.
But you don't understand,
I'm of a different generation.
I like Jews, and gypsies,
and Bolsheviks, and queers.
My favourite kind of fellow
is a Jewish Bolshevik queer
who lives in a caravan.
So, Christmas soon.
I like Christmas, I like to celebrate
the birth of Christ, a Jew.
Hooray, a Jew is born.
And then at Easter, you killed him.
But this is all in the past.
All in the past like the war.
Now we are all brothers
and sisters in Europe.
[laughs] How lovely jolly good, yes.
We welcome not only you,
but all peoples and nations,
and gypsies, and Slavs,
and other unterlings
into our glorious,
united Europe,
the centre of which will be Berlin.
Ein Reich, ein Volk, ein Fuhrer.
I can't believe it, Stan,
you know
I never liked you smirking.
You promised to give up
smirking for Easter,
and here you are,
it's two days before Christmas,
and you're smirking away
like there's no tomorrow.
I can't help it man woman, man.
I'm really great.
- Hey.
- Happy Christmas.
Happy Christmas.
I'm Jason, and this is
my best mate, Dean.
- All right.
- And we're nutters.
- Nutters.
- Oi, Dean, what's that?
- Huh?
- [both laughing]
You bastard.
He's a nutter.
Yeah, guess what he done
to my motor the other day.
He's only stuck a kipper
on my engine, right.
I picked this new bird up,
mile down the road,
the whole car
stunk of dead fish.
- The bird thought it was me.
- [both laughing]
Oh, nutter.
Mind you,
I got you back, didn't I?
Oh, aye.
I've got a Vauxhall, right.
Couple of weeks ago, Dean's only
come around my house late at night
- and cut the brake cables.
- [laughs]
That's right.
Next day I'm going along,
put the brakes on, nothing happens.
I've gone bang
straight into a brick wall,
engines gone shrunk,
shattered both my legs.
Doctors had
to chop them off.
- Tada.
- Eh?
You nutter.
Mind you, you got me back,
didn't you, Jace?
- Aye.
- He's only come around
and fire bombed my house,
and I was inside.
- Tada.
- Hey.
- Oh, nutter.
- We like a giggle mind,
- do we?
- Aye.
Hey, Dean, Happy Christmas.
- Oh, what's this then?
- Go on open it up.
A land mine, are you a nutter
or something?
Press the top and go on.
No, give it a good thump, man, go on.
[Dean] Oh, nutter.
My name is Michael Paine,
and I am a nosy neighbour.
Merry Christmas.
Oh, yes.
Being the season
of good will,
I took the liberty
of popping down the chimney
of them at number 11
during the midnight hour.
I had a look in their fridge,
and do you know what I found?
Two cans of supermarket
strength lager
and a four pack
of fromage frais light
past it's sell by date
by a week.
A bloody week, no less.
I was sorely tempted
to throw them in the swing bin,
but I didn't.
It's their problem,
not mine.
And I don't like to interfere
in other people's business.
Oh, no.
I also noted
a slight discolouration
of the hall carpet
at the bottom of the stairs,
caused by
who knows what.
A burst pipe from above,
damp from below,
or perhaps an ageing relative
who couldn't make it
up the stairs in time.
Merry Christmas.
It's this party tonight,
isn't it?
No, it's more like
a club than a party.
Yeah. It's more like
a club than a party.
- Because it's free, innit?
- Because it's free, innit?
So, it's more like a club
than a party.
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
- Who's going then?
- No one,
just Gemma, Sarah, Zoe,
Daniel, Heather, Los Box,
- Gaz, Daz, and Adrian.
- Yeah. No one.
- Yeah. No one. I've got nothing to wear.
- Yeah, me neither.
I'm wearing an asymmetrical
halter neck in berry tones,
subclass D, minx.
Only because
that'll suit you, innit?
Only because you got
a classic endomorph torso,
culminating
in a pear-shaped derriere
as profiled in
More Magazine, innit?
- Yeah.
- [man] Uh, excuse me,
could you tell me
where I find ladies scarves?
I don't wanna go tonight
on account of I hate my face.
No. You've got
a fine-boned facial structure
- of an English rose.
- Yeah?
Yeah.
Nah.
I've got spongy uneven skin texture
on account of me raging surging hormones,
what is my mostest Achilles heel
of the teenage guilt.
I've got a molecular
exfoliant with proteins,
and moisture-rich
seaweed extracts
for problem areas in a tea tree,
tee zone, for tender teenagers range
and all ranges.
Yeah, that's CoverGirl, innit?
- No, it's Rimmel.
- Rimmel, not CoverGirl?
- Is Danielle going tonight?
- Yeah.
Only she's got designs
on your Lee, innit?
Yeah, but I've had words.
Yeah, what did you say?
- [woman] Excuse me.
- I said,
you look at him again
and I'll cut off your head,
and shit in your neck.
Could you tell me
what floor pants are on?
Bras and pants?
Anyway, Danielle can have Lee
for all I care
- because I'm gonna dump him.
- Yeah?
Yeah. Because I found
his differing male needs,
and his requirements
of his particular maturity stage
was in confliction,
and/or alienating
to my female persona.
Yeah. Because you've got
to look after yourself
in your own life, innit?
Yeah. You've got to trust your own
feminine intuition, innit?
Yeah. Because
your independence don't drop
through the letter box
in the morning, innit?
Yeah.
And he's a pussy hole.
- I'm going to tea break.
- I'll cover.
[whistling]
[car horn honks]
Excuse me, mate,
I've got a better car than you.
- You what?
- What do you mean,
"You what?"
Vauxhall, Mercedes.
My car is better than yours,
that's because I've made
a success of my life
and you haven't.
Oh, yes.
I am considerably richer
than you.
[laughing]
[car screeching]
Welcome, Chelsea's record
French signing,
Jules Cockneyohiohioh.
Bonjour, sacre bleu.
Alright geezer. [gibberish]
Large.
So, Jules, how are you fitting in
at Stamford Bridge?
[speaking gibberish]
The guys follow the sheep,
oh hi oh hi oh.
Course, the old air
has changed
since I was a nipper.
[speaking gibberish]
Well, the first game
for Chelsea
and a goal within 10 minutes,
describe it.
Oh! [speaking gibberish]
Wise's done a lovely
little reverse ball,
and then... [speaking gibberish]
it's come in on the old left peg,
which, as you know,
Barry ain't my best.
[speaking gibberish]
I've sold him a dummy...
[speaking gibberish]
Check the price, governor.
[speaking gibberish]
Got their goalie arse
about three penny bits.
[speaking gibberish]
Goal, felicitation.
Rodney, you plonker.
Well, you seem to have made
mincemeat of the opposition, Jules,
so, what do you think of them
as a team?
[speaking gibberish]
There's a lot of coloured boys
in their team, huh?
It weren't like that
when I was a nipper.
[speaking gibberish]
I love my mum.
Jules Cockneyoihiohioh.
Footballer, gentleman,
future cabbie, Barry.
What you doing there,
odd kid,
rearranging the house
so it's nice and tidy?
No, they're behind
on their HP payments,
so I'm repossessing
the furniture.
I want to be a bailiff
when I grow up.
- Yeah?
- Yeah.
There's no doubt about it, George,
in a long-term relationship,
a lady's got to have
a lot more than looks alone.
I mean, if I was married
to Messenger,
I'd be happy to keep
the lights on
during our love making
sessions.
Old Messenger would be
a marvellous manoeuvre
in the marital sack.
She would indeed.
And she'd be a pleasure
to view not only horizontally
but also vertically
across the dinner table.
As long as she cooked
my steak and chips
how I like it.
But if she left the top
- of the ketchup bottle--
- Nah, nah, nah.
--on a regular basis.
I should say,
"Oi, Messenger, no.
I admire your lovemaking technique
and your prominent frontage
but how many times
have I got to tell you
to put the ketchup lid
back on post-dolloping.
Look the neck residue's
gone crusty
thus impeding
the flow of sauce
onto my steak,
you big bosomed bitch.
Well, that's the problem
with these lovely ladies,
innit, Frank? You know what I mean?
They're all very well on
the telly and page three
but if you got married to them,
they'd be inclined
to let their standards drop,
wouldn’t they?
I mean, I admire Van Outen.
Oh, Van Outen's
a bespoke combination
of actress and minx.
Indeed, and it would be a
pleasure to be married to it,
but if it was lying
on the bed,
scantily glad waiting for me,
do you know what I mean?
I've had to nip into the bog
for a pre-coital waz.
I've gone in there,
there's dirty cotton wool balls
all over the sink
and the vanity unit.
- No, no, no.
- The floor,
I should say,
"Oi, Van Outen,
get your sexy semi-clad
little arse in here now
and sort it out before I even consider
giving you a portion."
That dirty Dutch dog.
I mean, and it's not just
slacking standards
you might have to watch out for
in a modern marriage to a model type,
is it George?
I mean, it's the silly little things
that start to get your goat.
I mean, you think
I'd be reasonably happy
to be married to a wife
like Moss.
Oh, Moss is a curvy
catwalk dream.
You and her would be
a winning combination, Frank.
You would think so George,
you would think so.
But these model types,
they're a little bit dippy,
a little bit forgetful,
drive you bloody mad.
I can see it now.
There I am on the divan
being romantic,
getting down to the
mucky business with Moss,
when suddenly
there's this funny noise,
ba-dah, ba-dah.
Oh, ba-dah, ba-dah.
She's only left
her mobile on.
And she only goes
and bleeding answers it
while I'm trying to push
the pork.
Who is it then, her mum?
No, it's Presley.
Oh, gawd, she's always wanted
a one-on-one with him,
isn't she?
She has.
She has and she's all,
"Hello mate,
oh, what a nice surprise."
I should say, "Give me that Moss,
oi, Presley, you will always be
the King of Rock and Roll,
but it's 10:30 in the evening.
I've just taken a Viagra
and I am trying
to give Moss one, to one.
Call back from the afterlife
at a more convenient moment,
you fat genius."
Slam the old phone
down on the key
and get back
to giving it to Moss.
Not before admonishing her,
George.
I should day, "Oi, Moss,
no, you stupid supermodel."
And I'd turn her over, tie her wrists
to the bed post--
- Yeah, all right, Frank.
---lift her skimpy negligee
what I bought her from
Summers for Christmas--
All right,
that's enough now, Frank.
--and spank
her sweet little bottom,
until it's all pink
and she'd moan like--
- Frank.
- a dainty dish...
Frank. Frank. Frank.
I've got to go
to the little boy's room.
Excuse me.
Good morning madam,
how may I help you?
I think this might be
the car I'm after.
Can I have a look inside?
Certainly, madam.
Allow me.
[indistinct]
Only 30,000 miles,
that's pretty good isn't it,
for a car of this age
and price?
It would be, madam, yes,
if it was accurate.
But I've clocked her,
you see.
She's actually done over
a hundred thousand miles.
At this price, she's a rip off.
I wouldn’t waste your money.
Well, I admire your honesty.
Honest John by name
and nature, madam.
[sighs] Pity though because she is
a lovely looking motor.
Mind you, that probably
makes her not right for you.
What do you mean?
Well, let me explain.
Car drives down the road,
people stop and admire,
then you get out,
and they get a nasty shock.
Are you saying I'm ugly?
Well, you're hardly
Diana Dors are you, madam?
I mean, you may have been
all right once,
but to be honest,
unlike the Calibre here,
your higher mileage
has taken a terrible toll
on your bodywork.
Do you see?
How dare you?
I was only being honest.
[phone ringing]
Hello, Kate Moss?
Elvis Presley,
oh, thanks for calling.
I've always wanted
a one-to-one with you.
Listen, what I--hello?
Hello, I've just got
into a tunnel.
Can you still hear me?
Oh, bollocks.
Kathryn of Aragon,
Anne Boleyn,
Jane Seymour,
Anne of Cleves,
Kathryn Howard--
Mu--
Dad.
[Harry]
I'm upstairs in the loo.
Who was Henry VIII's
sixth wife?
[Harry] Kathryn Parr.
- What?
- [Harry] Kathryn Parr.
What?
[Harry]
I'm upstairs in the loo.
If you want to ask me
a question, come here.
I'm not prepared
to carry on shouting.
[sighs]
Where are you?
[Harry] In the loo.
[sighs]
Kathryn Parr.
Oh, yeah, thanks, Dad.
[man] ♪ Wanker, wanker,
wanker, wanker ♪
- [woman] Lovely Jubley.
- Lovely Jubley.
- [woman] Geezer.
- Geezer.
- [woman] Beer Gut.
- Beer Gut.
- [woman] Boof.
- Boof.
- [woman] Telly Cockneys.
- Telly Cockneys.
[woman] Say, "F off."
F off.
[man] ♪ Wanker, wanker, wanker,
wanker, wanker... ♪
[burps]
[woman] Where are the Telly Cockneys?
[indistinct chatter]
F off.
[woman] They're in the pub.
In the pub.
[woman] All the Telly Cockneys
are very thirsty.
[burps]
[burps]
[woman] Geezer wants a light
for his fag.
Geezer light, Lovely Jubley.
[woman] But Lovely Jubley
wants a fight.
Fight.
[upbeat music playing]
[Beer Gut and Boof] Woo.
Go, go.
[woman] Telly Cockneys love fighting.
[Beer Gut and Boof]
Fight, fight, fight, fight.
Beer Gut need a piss.
Uh-oh.
[woman] Beer Gut's too pissed
to get to the bog.
[machine beeping]
[woman] Luckily, the Loo Loo
was on hand.
[all] Loo Loo.
Toilet.
[woman] Telly Cockneys love
having a piss in front of their mates.
[phone rings]
Uh-oh.
[phone rings continue]
- [phone beeps]
- [woman 2] Hello, hello, hello.
Boof, where are you?
Your dinner is on the table.
F off.
[woman] To their birds,
Telly Cockneys love to say...
F off.
- [phone beeps]
- [woman] And they all
have another drink to celebrate.
Same again, again, again.
[upbeat music playing]
Ooh...
Big jugs.
[woman] Telly Cockneys love big jugs.
Big jugs.
[man] Time gentlemen, please.
Time gentlemen, please.
[woman] Bye-bye, Geezer.
Ta.
[woman] Bye-bye Lovely Jubley.
See you.
[woman] Bye-bye Beer Gut.
I love you.
[woman] Telly Cockneys love to say...
[Telly Cockneys] F off.
[burps]
What were all youse lot
doing out here like?
How man they've made
the office no smirking
so we've had to come out here.
[laughter]
Oh, go on, go on now.
So Emma, what's your...
- book of the year?
- Oh, it's got to be
- Bridget Jones' Diary.
- Oh, Bridget Jones.
- No.
- Bridget Jones.
Bridget Jones.
- Bridget Jones.
- [Emma] Helen Fielding
is just so perceptive,
- isn't she?
- Oh, isn't she?
[all] Isn't she? Isn't she? Isn't she?
[Emma] Gorgeous, I mean,
I felt I was Bridget.
Yeah, I am Bridget Jones.
- Yes, I'm Bridget Jones.
- No, I'm Bridget Jones.
I'm Bridget Jones.
I'm Bridget Jones.
Oh, but it's like me with High Fidelity.
I mean, I read that, and I just thought
I am the guy in this book.
[grunting]
Hey, Nick Hornby
is so perceptive, isn't he?
[all] Isn't he? Isn't he? Isn't he?
Isn't he? Isn't he?
I mean, I've just read About a Boy
and I thought, "Oh, my God,
I am About a Boy."
[man] Oh, absolutely,
but you say that you see,
but the thing is the classic authors,
even Dickens are still very now.
I mean, you know, I read David Copperfield
and it was just me.
[grunts] I read Oliver Twist
and that was me.
Please, sir, can I have some more wine?
Oh [laughs]
Oh, I'll tell you who I really am,
Anna Karenina.
Oh, I always thought you were Natasha
- from War and Peace.
- Oh, no, darling,
you're Natasha.
No, I'm Tess of the d'Urbervilles.
I'm The Hound of the Baskervilles.
Well, I'm Paddy Clarke.
Ha Ha Ha.
Well, I'm The Joy of Sex.
No.
You're not.
Believe me...
you are not.
[phone rings]
- [phone beeps]
- Ian Wrighty.
Martin Luther King?
Oh, hello sir,
how do you manage to stay nonviolent,
when--hello?
Oh, bollocks.
Bloody battery's gone.
[dramatic music playing]
Don't be ridiculous, Kevin,
of course, you can't go to America.
We're going to visit your Aunt Mabel.
Come along.
- That is so unfair.
- Yes.
The old ticket to the USA.
- Hey.
- That's my frigging ticket.
- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.
Hey, hold on a minute,
please, pal.
[indistinct chatter]
Welcome aboard the Titanic.
She's a bloody good ship.
She's never sunk yet.
Welcome aboard.
[horn honks]
Bog and begorrah,
I never thought I'd see the day
when I, Wayne O'Slob,
would be saying farewell
to my fair Colleen Waynetta,
and sailing off
to make me fortune
in the land of opportunity.
The land of freedom,
- [pig squeals]
- the land of a hundred
and forty-seven varieties of pizza.
I mean, so many kinds of pizza.
[dramatic music playing]
I'm going to end it all.
Go on then, jump.
Cheer us all up.
Oh.
Oh,
I'm going to pull you off.
Oh, great.
What is our exact position,
Mr Nice-But-Dim?
Um, we're on the bridge
of the Titanic, sir.
What course are we on?
Dinner isn't until 8:30, sir.
Dim a few, sir. [laughs]
Ta for saving my fiancée, sport.
I am considerably richer than you.
Are you from steerage?
No, Guildford.
[man] Would you like a wine, sport?
Okay. [sighs]
It's so unfair,
my parents really hate me
and I just don't understand
what it's like to be loved.
[dramatic music playing]
Hi.
[grunting]
[grunts] That was so unfair.
[breathing heavily]
[woman] Kevin...
- what are you doing in here?
- [Kevin mumbles]
I'll just be a minute.
[man] Excuse me, sir,
there's an iceberg.
What?
But don't worry,
it's a long way away.
We've hit the iceberg, sir.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Now, I do not believe
you wanted to do that,
did you, eh?
Did you, eh?
Eh?
Let me through.
I'm richer than you.
[man] We apologize
for the sinking of the Titanic,
this is due to the wrong type
of ice on the liner.
Passengers are requested
to make their way to the lifeboats.
Women and children first.
You heard what the man said,
women and children first.
There you go,
get out of it, you bugger.
Here, missus, you forgot your toddler.
[laughs]
What's the situation like below,
Nice-But-Dim?
Marvellous, sir.
Someone's had the corking idea
of putting an indoor swimming pool
in the ballroom.
It's got a wave machine and everything.
Bloody good fun.
Oh, Bejesus,
Bemary, Bejoseph,
for the love of Bob,
will you open the gates?
I'm getting all clean.
We've got 2,000 passengers
aboard the ship and 40 lifeboats.
Do you know what this means?
Two thousand divided by forty,
[mumbles]
take away the number
you first thought of,
is the answer Gibraltar?
Have you got a gun, Nice-But-Dim?
Certainly, sir.
- [gunshot]
- Oh, we're gonna die virgins.
Yes, we are.
You're so frigid.
You dolt, I just need my space.
Yeah.
Kevin.
[water splashes]
Hello, sexy.
[screams]
Ah, good.
[man] Ah father,
I'd like you to meet my special friend,
Midshipman Rawlins.
He's an admirer of the plays
of Mr Oscar Wilde.
Well, Tom, it's nice you found someone
to go down on--with--
I mean, it's good
you're gonna be with someone
at the end up the bottom--
on the bottom.
I'm just glad you've found someone
on deck who isn't screaming.
Oh, bugger.
[water splashes]
I am smoking a fag.
Look here, cheeky Irish chappie,
we're in a bit of a pickle,
so I'm gonna play some music
to lift our spirits.
[violin music plays]
[grunts]
[grunts]
Oi,
Reaper,
no.
Are there any survivors?
Is there anyone there?
Anyone at all?
Only me.
what's your philosophy of life?
Um, I stink,
therefore I am.
[theme music plays]
[Mrs Patterson]
Hello, Kevin,
how was school?
Hush, bitch, you're
interfering with my brain.
Oh, dear.
Oh, hello.
Who are you?
This is Jammy B.
He's our new friend,
don't dis him
or you in trouble, woman.
I see.
Hello, Jammy B.
Hello, Perry.
Mrs Patterson.
You look very nice today,
you bitch.
Thank you, Perry.
Please don't call me bitch.
Sorry.
Now, would you boys
like something to eat?
Eat? Ugh, got any drugs?
No, I haven't, Kevin,
surprisingly.
[groans]
Would you like baked beans
on toast?
- Oh.
- Marmite sandwich?
Oh, you are one sad whore.
Do you want something,
Jammy B?
Could I please have
a Marmite sandwich, please,
Mrs Patterson?
[Mrs Patterson] Certainly, Jammy B.
Would you like it toasted?
Yes, please, Mrs Patterson,
if it's not too much trou--
not too much trou--
not too much bother.
No bother at all.
Can I--can I please have some
beans on toast, please,
Mrs Patterson, you bitch?
Yo, Jammy, you wanna come
and see our room, it's really mad.
- Mad.
- Wicked.
Can we do our homework first
because I wanna get it out the way?
Oh, yeah, okay.
Excuse me.
Good morning, sir.
How may I help you?
Um, actually, I was interested
in buying this Rover.
Ooh, I wouldn't do that
if I were you, sir.
I've got to be honest with you,
the back end is a G reg,
the front end a J reg,
both right soft.
I've welded them together,
and re-sprayed it.
It's a death trap, sir.
Well, I admire your honesty.
I mean--
Honest John by name
and nature, sir.
You want a nice safe car
with a little baby,
and you won't get that here.
[chuckles]
Hello, little one.
- Boy or a girl?
- Boy.
- Matthew.
- Hello, little Matthew.
You're an ugly little bugger,
aren't you?
I beg your pardon?
Well, he ain't a looker,
is he, sir?
I mean to be honest,
he's a bit fat,
he's got a squint,
and just look at his hair.
- What's wrong with his hair?
- Well, he's a ginge, sir.
Nobody wants a ginger baby.
Ugh.
How dare you?
I was only being honest.
- Shall we go in my car?
- Yeah.
- Your car? You can't drive.
- Course I can, Dad.
But you're a--
- Gay people can drive.
- Really?
Uh, bugger me.
- Oh, uh.
- Shall we go?
[man] Uh, Tom, it's here.
- That's not my car, Dad.
- Are you sure?
[car beeps]
[woman] Thank you, David.
Uh, no, darling, why don't
you come in the back with me? [laughs]
Please?
I'd like to go in the front,
thank you.
Okay.
[engine revving]
Leather seats, hmm, kinky.
Actually, it's just easy
to wipe down.
Yes, of course, of course.
But why on earth
would you need to wipe down
the back seats of--oh, my God.
Ow.
My little niece is always
getting sweets stuck on it,
and because it's leather,
we can just wipe it down.
Oh, yes, of course.
Praise the Lord.
Very good gear changes,
Tom, very smooth, well done.
- It's automatic, Dad.
- Oh, right.
Mind you, probably sensible. I mean, less
dangerous for you to drive an automatic.
Why?
Well, you know, your type,
a great big gear stick
going in and out
of your hand all the time.
You'd get carried away,
wouldn't you? [laughs]
Then again, perhaps not.
Have to be careful here, Tom,
there's a bit of a bender in front.
I mean, obviously there's
a bender in front of me
because you're driving,
but I mean there's a bender in the road
coming up in front of you.
And nothing wrong with that.
A bent road is just as normal
as a straight road, I think, you'll find.
In fact, I don't even notice,
bent or straight,
I treat all roads
with exactly the same respect.
- [tyres screeching]
- [cars crash]
- Oh, Christ. Oh, Lord.
- Are you okay?
Yes, I'm fine. Thank you.
I'm sorry, mate.
I must've drifted off. I just--
- Don't worry, son, I'll deal with it.
- I'm sorry about my son, sir.
He's a--he's a--uh,
well, he shouldn't be driving anyway.
Um, now, here's my address,
uh, just send me the bill,
I'll pay for everything,
just leave my son alone.
He's a lovely boy, uh,
not that you need to know
he's a lovely boy,
I'm sure his sexuality's
no concern of yours.
Although obviously
if he wasn't a poof,
- your car would be all right.
- Dad, it's not my fault.
I know, son. It's your mother's and mine.
I've been thinking about it a lot.
We never should have given you
that Wendy house for your fourth birthday.
Dad.
Ah, I'll pay for everything.
Just please don't hit my son.
Dad, he went up my arse.
What, while I was getting out
of the car?
God, you guys get everywhere,
don't you?
Oh.
Uh.
Do you like your new cars
then, odd kid?
- Yes.
- What are you doing with them, love?
Issuing them with tickets.
This one's parked on a single
yellow line before 6:30,
and this one's three minutes
over the meter.
- Yeah?
- [boy] Yeah.
I want to be a traffic warden
when I grow up.
Hmm, over-cleaned,
under-cleaned,
and too much varnish.
Who's it by?
Nice tits though.
I like big tits.
Do you like big tits or nice tits?
Fluffy pubic hair is my thing.
Hmm.
Excuse me.
- Are you William Shakespeare?
- That's correct, yeah.
[laughs] Brilliant.
I just said to the wife, I said I bet
that's William Shakespeare
sitting over there. It is him, babe.
Because the wife and I,
like, we're real big fans
of, you know, all your stuff.
What was that one we saw recently?
That was funny.
What was it?
Comedy of Errors. Eh?
[laughs] That was blinding. Eh?
About the two blokes
who looked exactly the same
and they were getting mixed up
with each other and all that,
and one got it right old two
and eight, didn't they?
- Yeah.
- Glad you enjoyed it.
Yeah.
So, uh, what's the new one
called then?
- Uh, it's called Macbeth.
- Oh, right.
- Is that a comedy, is it?
- No, it's a tragedy.
Oh, that's a shame, isn't it?
Still, we'll look forward to it anyway.
Actually, I couldn't have your autograph,
could I, for the wife actually?
- Yeah?
- Sure.
- Certainly.
- I've got a bit of parchment here.
Could you put on it, um,
"To Joan, or not to Joan."
[laughs]
You know, that's my wife over there.
She was too shy to come over.
- Hello.
- [man] Silly, isn't she?
- Well, thanks very much, mate.
- Okay.
And, uh, good luck
with your new plays and that.
- Thank you.
- Sonnets and that.
- All right?
- Thank you very much.
- Okay. See you.
- Bye.
- [giggles]
- What was he like?
He was a nice bloke, yeah.
[man] Cor, Lulu, look at all the
great Christmas bargains at Safeburies.
Now, we can have organic
roast potatoes.
Mom will love Safeburies' home
mix turkey stuffing.
[screams]
It's not just the yuletide tinsel
that will sparkle in our home, Lulu.
With bargains
on household products,
Mum will really clean up this Christmas.
Hmm, Christmas pud.
Or how about some
Boxing Day Baked Beans?
- I reckon this Christmas is in the can.
- [screams]
Kiss the little duck.
[screams]
With so many Safeburies
seasonal bargains,
it's hard not to get carried
away, eh, Lulu?
Excuse me, is anyone
sitting here per chance?
No.
Phew.
I've just completed the purchasing
of all my presents
for my chums in the squat.
[laughs]
You have done your Christmas
shopping by now I hope?
Yeah.
[laughs]
You are looking forward to celebrating
Christmas with your family, I trust?
Oh, well, we give presents,
but we don't actually celebrate Christmas.
You don't celebrate Christmas?
Pray, may I ask, why ever not?
We're Jewish.
You are Jewish?
- That's right.
- You are a Jew?
Yes.
This is wonderful news.
I am Jurgen, I am a German.
It is nice to meet you, Jew.
Sidney.
I understand, you do not wish
to shake my hand
until I have apologized
for what my people
- did to your people during the war.
- Leave it.
But you don't understand,
I'm of a different generation.
I like Jews, and gypsies,
and Bolsheviks, and queers.
My favourite kind of fellow
is a Jewish Bolshevik queer
who lives in a caravan.
So, Christmas soon.
I like Christmas, I like to celebrate
the birth of Christ, a Jew.
Hooray, a Jew is born.
And then at Easter, you killed him.
But this is all in the past.
All in the past like the war.
Now we are all brothers
and sisters in Europe.
[laughs] How lovely jolly good, yes.
We welcome not only you,
but all peoples and nations,
and gypsies, and Slavs,
and other unterlings
into our glorious,
united Europe,
the centre of which will be Berlin.
Ein Reich, ein Volk, ein Fuhrer.
I can't believe it, Stan,
you know
I never liked you smirking.
You promised to give up
smirking for Easter,
and here you are,
it's two days before Christmas,
and you're smirking away
like there's no tomorrow.
I can't help it man woman, man.
I'm really great.
- Hey.
- Happy Christmas.
Happy Christmas.
I'm Jason, and this is
my best mate, Dean.
- All right.
- And we're nutters.
- Nutters.
- Oi, Dean, what's that?
- Huh?
- [both laughing]
You bastard.
He's a nutter.
Yeah, guess what he done
to my motor the other day.
He's only stuck a kipper
on my engine, right.
I picked this new bird up,
mile down the road,
the whole car
stunk of dead fish.
- The bird thought it was me.
- [both laughing]
Oh, nutter.
Mind you,
I got you back, didn't I?
Oh, aye.
I've got a Vauxhall, right.
Couple of weeks ago, Dean's only
come around my house late at night
- and cut the brake cables.
- [laughs]
That's right.
Next day I'm going along,
put the brakes on, nothing happens.
I've gone bang
straight into a brick wall,
engines gone shrunk,
shattered both my legs.
Doctors had
to chop them off.
- Tada.
- Eh?
You nutter.
Mind you, you got me back,
didn't you, Jace?
- Aye.
- He's only come around
and fire bombed my house,
and I was inside.
- Tada.
- Hey.
- Oh, nutter.
- We like a giggle mind,
- do we?
- Aye.
Hey, Dean, Happy Christmas.
- Oh, what's this then?
- Go on open it up.
A land mine, are you a nutter
or something?
Press the top and go on.
No, give it a good thump, man, go on.
[Dean] Oh, nutter.
My name is Michael Paine,
and I am a nosy neighbour.
Merry Christmas.
Oh, yes.
Being the season
of good will,
I took the liberty
of popping down the chimney
of them at number 11
during the midnight hour.
I had a look in their fridge,
and do you know what I found?
Two cans of supermarket
strength lager
and a four pack
of fromage frais light
past it's sell by date
by a week.
A bloody week, no less.
I was sorely tempted
to throw them in the swing bin,
but I didn't.
It's their problem,
not mine.
And I don't like to interfere
in other people's business.
Oh, no.
I also noted
a slight discolouration
of the hall carpet
at the bottom of the stairs,
caused by
who knows what.
A burst pipe from above,
damp from below,
or perhaps an ageing relative
who couldn't make it
up the stairs in time.
Merry Christmas.
It's this party tonight,
isn't it?
No, it's more like
a club than a party.
Yeah. It's more like
a club than a party.
- Because it's free, innit?
- Because it's free, innit?
So, it's more like a club
than a party.
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
- Who's going then?
- No one,
just Gemma, Sarah, Zoe,
Daniel, Heather, Los Box,
- Gaz, Daz, and Adrian.
- Yeah. No one.
- Yeah. No one. I've got nothing to wear.
- Yeah, me neither.
I'm wearing an asymmetrical
halter neck in berry tones,
subclass D, minx.
Only because
that'll suit you, innit?
Only because you got
a classic endomorph torso,
culminating
in a pear-shaped derriere
as profiled in
More Magazine, innit?
- Yeah.
- [man] Uh, excuse me,
could you tell me
where I find ladies scarves?
I don't wanna go tonight
on account of I hate my face.
No. You've got
a fine-boned facial structure
- of an English rose.
- Yeah?
Yeah.
Nah.
I've got spongy uneven skin texture
on account of me raging surging hormones,
what is my mostest Achilles heel
of the teenage guilt.
I've got a molecular
exfoliant with proteins,
and moisture-rich
seaweed extracts
for problem areas in a tea tree,
tee zone, for tender teenagers range
and all ranges.
Yeah, that's CoverGirl, innit?
- No, it's Rimmel.
- Rimmel, not CoverGirl?
- Is Danielle going tonight?
- Yeah.
Only she's got designs
on your Lee, innit?
Yeah, but I've had words.
Yeah, what did you say?
- [woman] Excuse me.
- I said,
you look at him again
and I'll cut off your head,
and shit in your neck.
Could you tell me
what floor pants are on?
Bras and pants?
Anyway, Danielle can have Lee
for all I care
- because I'm gonna dump him.
- Yeah?
Yeah. Because I found
his differing male needs,
and his requirements
of his particular maturity stage
was in confliction,
and/or alienating
to my female persona.
Yeah. Because you've got
to look after yourself
in your own life, innit?
Yeah. You've got to trust your own
feminine intuition, innit?
Yeah. Because
your independence don't drop
through the letter box
in the morning, innit?
Yeah.
And he's a pussy hole.
- I'm going to tea break.
- I'll cover.
[whistling]
[car horn honks]
Excuse me, mate,
I've got a better car than you.
- You what?
- What do you mean,
"You what?"
Vauxhall, Mercedes.
My car is better than yours,
that's because I've made
a success of my life
and you haven't.
Oh, yes.
I am considerably richer
than you.
[laughing]
[car screeching]
Welcome, Chelsea's record
French signing,
Jules Cockneyohiohioh.
Bonjour, sacre bleu.
Alright geezer. [gibberish]
Large.
So, Jules, how are you fitting in
at Stamford Bridge?
[speaking gibberish]
The guys follow the sheep,
oh hi oh hi oh.
Course, the old air
has changed
since I was a nipper.
[speaking gibberish]
Well, the first game
for Chelsea
and a goal within 10 minutes,
describe it.
Oh! [speaking gibberish]
Wise's done a lovely
little reverse ball,
and then... [speaking gibberish]
it's come in on the old left peg,
which, as you know,
Barry ain't my best.
[speaking gibberish]
I've sold him a dummy...
[speaking gibberish]
Check the price, governor.
[speaking gibberish]
Got their goalie arse
about three penny bits.
[speaking gibberish]
Goal, felicitation.
Rodney, you plonker.
Well, you seem to have made
mincemeat of the opposition, Jules,
so, what do you think of them
as a team?
[speaking gibberish]
There's a lot of coloured boys
in their team, huh?
It weren't like that
when I was a nipper.
[speaking gibberish]
I love my mum.
Jules Cockneyoihiohioh.
Footballer, gentleman,
future cabbie, Barry.
What you doing there,
odd kid,
rearranging the house
so it's nice and tidy?
No, they're behind
on their HP payments,
so I'm repossessing
the furniture.
I want to be a bailiff
when I grow up.
- Yeah?
- Yeah.
There's no doubt about it, George,
in a long-term relationship,
a lady's got to have
a lot more than looks alone.
I mean, if I was married
to Messenger,
I'd be happy to keep
the lights on
during our love making
sessions.
Old Messenger would be
a marvellous manoeuvre
in the marital sack.
She would indeed.
And she'd be a pleasure
to view not only horizontally
but also vertically
across the dinner table.
As long as she cooked
my steak and chips
how I like it.
But if she left the top
- of the ketchup bottle--
- Nah, nah, nah.
--on a regular basis.
I should say,
"Oi, Messenger, no.
I admire your lovemaking technique
and your prominent frontage
but how many times
have I got to tell you
to put the ketchup lid
back on post-dolloping.
Look the neck residue's
gone crusty
thus impeding
the flow of sauce
onto my steak,
you big bosomed bitch.
Well, that's the problem
with these lovely ladies,
innit, Frank? You know what I mean?
They're all very well on
the telly and page three
but if you got married to them,
they'd be inclined
to let their standards drop,
wouldn’t they?
I mean, I admire Van Outen.
Oh, Van Outen's
a bespoke combination
of actress and minx.
Indeed, and it would be a
pleasure to be married to it,
but if it was lying
on the bed,
scantily glad waiting for me,
do you know what I mean?
I've had to nip into the bog
for a pre-coital waz.
I've gone in there,
there's dirty cotton wool balls
all over the sink
and the vanity unit.
- No, no, no.
- The floor,
I should say,
"Oi, Van Outen,
get your sexy semi-clad
little arse in here now
and sort it out before I even consider
giving you a portion."
That dirty Dutch dog.
I mean, and it's not just
slacking standards
you might have to watch out for
in a modern marriage to a model type,
is it George?
I mean, it's the silly little things
that start to get your goat.
I mean, you think
I'd be reasonably happy
to be married to a wife
like Moss.
Oh, Moss is a curvy
catwalk dream.
You and her would be
a winning combination, Frank.
You would think so George,
you would think so.
But these model types,
they're a little bit dippy,
a little bit forgetful,
drive you bloody mad.
I can see it now.
There I am on the divan
being romantic,
getting down to the
mucky business with Moss,
when suddenly
there's this funny noise,
ba-dah, ba-dah.
Oh, ba-dah, ba-dah.
She's only left
her mobile on.
And she only goes
and bleeding answers it
while I'm trying to push
the pork.
Who is it then, her mum?
No, it's Presley.
Oh, gawd, she's always wanted
a one-on-one with him,
isn't she?
She has.
She has and she's all,
"Hello mate,
oh, what a nice surprise."
I should say, "Give me that Moss,
oi, Presley, you will always be
the King of Rock and Roll,
but it's 10:30 in the evening.
I've just taken a Viagra
and I am trying
to give Moss one, to one.
Call back from the afterlife
at a more convenient moment,
you fat genius."
Slam the old phone
down on the key
and get back
to giving it to Moss.
Not before admonishing her,
George.
I should day, "Oi, Moss,
no, you stupid supermodel."
And I'd turn her over, tie her wrists
to the bed post--
- Yeah, all right, Frank.
---lift her skimpy negligee
what I bought her from
Summers for Christmas--
All right,
that's enough now, Frank.
--and spank
her sweet little bottom,
until it's all pink
and she'd moan like--
- Frank.
- a dainty dish...
Frank. Frank. Frank.
I've got to go
to the little boy's room.
Excuse me.
Good morning madam,
how may I help you?
I think this might be
the car I'm after.
Can I have a look inside?
Certainly, madam.
Allow me.
[indistinct]
Only 30,000 miles,
that's pretty good isn't it,
for a car of this age
and price?
It would be, madam, yes,
if it was accurate.
But I've clocked her,
you see.
She's actually done over
a hundred thousand miles.
At this price, she's a rip off.
I wouldn’t waste your money.
Well, I admire your honesty.
Honest John by name
and nature, madam.
[sighs] Pity though because she is
a lovely looking motor.
Mind you, that probably
makes her not right for you.
What do you mean?
Well, let me explain.
Car drives down the road,
people stop and admire,
then you get out,
and they get a nasty shock.
Are you saying I'm ugly?
Well, you're hardly
Diana Dors are you, madam?
I mean, you may have been
all right once,
but to be honest,
unlike the Calibre here,
your higher mileage
has taken a terrible toll
on your bodywork.
Do you see?
How dare you?
I was only being honest.
[phone ringing]
Hello, Kate Moss?
Elvis Presley,
oh, thanks for calling.
I've always wanted
a one-to-one with you.
Listen, what I--hello?
Hello, I've just got
into a tunnel.
Can you still hear me?
Oh, bollocks.
Kathryn of Aragon,
Anne Boleyn,
Jane Seymour,
Anne of Cleves,
Kathryn Howard--
Mu--
Dad.
[Harry]
I'm upstairs in the loo.
Who was Henry VIII's
sixth wife?
[Harry] Kathryn Parr.
- What?
- [Harry] Kathryn Parr.
What?
[Harry]
I'm upstairs in the loo.
If you want to ask me
a question, come here.
I'm not prepared
to carry on shouting.
[sighs]
Where are you?
[Harry] In the loo.
[sighs]
Kathryn Parr.
Oh, yeah, thanks, Dad.
[man] ♪ Wanker, wanker,
wanker, wanker ♪
- [woman] Lovely Jubley.
- Lovely Jubley.
- [woman] Geezer.
- Geezer.
- [woman] Beer Gut.
- Beer Gut.
- [woman] Boof.
- Boof.
- [woman] Telly Cockneys.
- Telly Cockneys.
[woman] Say, "F off."
F off.
[man] ♪ Wanker, wanker, wanker,
wanker, wanker... ♪
[burps]
[woman] Where are the Telly Cockneys?
[indistinct chatter]
F off.
[woman] They're in the pub.
In the pub.
[woman] All the Telly Cockneys
are very thirsty.
[burps]
[burps]
[woman] Geezer wants a light
for his fag.
Geezer light, Lovely Jubley.
[woman] But Lovely Jubley
wants a fight.
Fight.
[upbeat music playing]
[Beer Gut and Boof] Woo.
Go, go.
[woman] Telly Cockneys love fighting.
[Beer Gut and Boof]
Fight, fight, fight, fight.
Beer Gut need a piss.
Uh-oh.
[woman] Beer Gut's too pissed
to get to the bog.
[machine beeping]
[woman] Luckily, the Loo Loo
was on hand.
[all] Loo Loo.
Toilet.
[woman] Telly Cockneys love
having a piss in front of their mates.
[phone rings]
Uh-oh.
[phone rings continue]
- [phone beeps]
- [woman 2] Hello, hello, hello.
Boof, where are you?
Your dinner is on the table.
F off.
[woman] To their birds,
Telly Cockneys love to say...
F off.
- [phone beeps]
- [woman] And they all
have another drink to celebrate.
Same again, again, again.
[upbeat music playing]
Ooh...
Big jugs.
[woman] Telly Cockneys love big jugs.
Big jugs.
[man] Time gentlemen, please.
Time gentlemen, please.
[woman] Bye-bye, Geezer.
Ta.
[woman] Bye-bye Lovely Jubley.
See you.
[woman] Bye-bye Beer Gut.
I love you.
[woman] Telly Cockneys love to say...
[Telly Cockneys] F off.
[burps]
What were all youse lot
doing out here like?
How man they've made
the office no smirking
so we've had to come out here.
[laughter]
Oh, go on, go on now.
So Emma, what's your...
- book of the year?
- Oh, it's got to be
- Bridget Jones' Diary.
- Oh, Bridget Jones.
- No.
- Bridget Jones.
Bridget Jones.
- Bridget Jones.
- [Emma] Helen Fielding
is just so perceptive,
- isn't she?
- Oh, isn't she?
[all] Isn't she? Isn't she? Isn't she?
[Emma] Gorgeous, I mean,
I felt I was Bridget.
Yeah, I am Bridget Jones.
- Yes, I'm Bridget Jones.
- No, I'm Bridget Jones.
I'm Bridget Jones.
I'm Bridget Jones.
Oh, but it's like me with High Fidelity.
I mean, I read that, and I just thought
I am the guy in this book.
[grunting]
Hey, Nick Hornby
is so perceptive, isn't he?
[all] Isn't he? Isn't he? Isn't he?
Isn't he? Isn't he?
I mean, I've just read About a Boy
and I thought, "Oh, my God,
I am About a Boy."
[man] Oh, absolutely,
but you say that you see,
but the thing is the classic authors,
even Dickens are still very now.
I mean, you know, I read David Copperfield
and it was just me.
[grunts] I read Oliver Twist
and that was me.
Please, sir, can I have some more wine?
Oh [laughs]
Oh, I'll tell you who I really am,
Anna Karenina.
Oh, I always thought you were Natasha
- from War and Peace.
- Oh, no, darling,
you're Natasha.
No, I'm Tess of the d'Urbervilles.
I'm The Hound of the Baskervilles.
Well, I'm Paddy Clarke.
Ha Ha Ha.
Well, I'm The Joy of Sex.
No.
You're not.
Believe me...
you are not.
[phone rings]
- [phone beeps]
- Ian Wrighty.
Martin Luther King?
Oh, hello sir,
how do you manage to stay nonviolent,
when--hello?
Oh, bollocks.
Bloody battery's gone.
[dramatic music playing]
Don't be ridiculous, Kevin,
of course, you can't go to America.
We're going to visit your Aunt Mabel.
Come along.
- That is so unfair.
- Yes.
The old ticket to the USA.
- Hey.
- That's my frigging ticket.
- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.
Hey, hold on a minute,
please, pal.
[indistinct chatter]
Welcome aboard the Titanic.
She's a bloody good ship.
She's never sunk yet.
Welcome aboard.
[horn honks]
Bog and begorrah,
I never thought I'd see the day
when I, Wayne O'Slob,
would be saying farewell
to my fair Colleen Waynetta,
and sailing off
to make me fortune
in the land of opportunity.
The land of freedom,
- [pig squeals]
- the land of a hundred
and forty-seven varieties of pizza.
I mean, so many kinds of pizza.
[dramatic music playing]
I'm going to end it all.
Go on then, jump.
Cheer us all up.
Oh.
Oh,
I'm going to pull you off.
Oh, great.
What is our exact position,
Mr Nice-But-Dim?
Um, we're on the bridge
of the Titanic, sir.
What course are we on?
Dinner isn't until 8:30, sir.
Dim a few, sir. [laughs]
Ta for saving my fiancée, sport.
I am considerably richer than you.
Are you from steerage?
No, Guildford.
[man] Would you like a wine, sport?
Okay. [sighs]
It's so unfair,
my parents really hate me
and I just don't understand
what it's like to be loved.
[dramatic music playing]
Hi.
[grunting]
[grunts] That was so unfair.
[breathing heavily]
[woman] Kevin...
- what are you doing in here?
- [Kevin mumbles]
I'll just be a minute.
[man] Excuse me, sir,
there's an iceberg.
What?
But don't worry,
it's a long way away.
We've hit the iceberg, sir.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Now, I do not believe
you wanted to do that,
did you, eh?
Did you, eh?
Eh?
Let me through.
I'm richer than you.
[man] We apologize
for the sinking of the Titanic,
this is due to the wrong type
of ice on the liner.
Passengers are requested
to make their way to the lifeboats.
Women and children first.
You heard what the man said,
women and children first.
There you go,
get out of it, you bugger.
Here, missus, you forgot your toddler.
[laughs]
What's the situation like below,
Nice-But-Dim?
Marvellous, sir.
Someone's had the corking idea
of putting an indoor swimming pool
in the ballroom.
It's got a wave machine and everything.
Bloody good fun.
Oh, Bejesus,
Bemary, Bejoseph,
for the love of Bob,
will you open the gates?
I'm getting all clean.
We've got 2,000 passengers
aboard the ship and 40 lifeboats.
Do you know what this means?
Two thousand divided by forty,
[mumbles]
take away the number
you first thought of,
is the answer Gibraltar?
Have you got a gun, Nice-But-Dim?
Certainly, sir.
- [gunshot]
- Oh, we're gonna die virgins.
Yes, we are.
You're so frigid.
You dolt, I just need my space.
Yeah.
Kevin.
[water splashes]
Hello, sexy.
[screams]
Ah, good.
[man] Ah father,
I'd like you to meet my special friend,
Midshipman Rawlins.
He's an admirer of the plays
of Mr Oscar Wilde.
Well, Tom, it's nice you found someone
to go down on--with--
I mean, it's good
you're gonna be with someone
at the end up the bottom--
on the bottom.
I'm just glad you've found someone
on deck who isn't screaming.
Oh, bugger.
[water splashes]
I am smoking a fag.
Look here, cheeky Irish chappie,
we're in a bit of a pickle,
so I'm gonna play some music
to lift our spirits.
[violin music plays]
[grunts]
[grunts]
Oi,
Reaper,
no.
Are there any survivors?
Is there anyone there?
Anyone at all?
Only me.