Raised by Wolves (2013–2016): Season 2, Episode 6 - Dead Man's Caravan - full transcript

Della and the family head off for Wales to stay in a caravan that was owned by Grampy's late friend Dino but with Aretha and Germaine both feeling dumped by objects of their affection, Grampy unable to pay the hire purchase for his new 4 x 4 and a caravan full of stuffed animals it is far from being a happy holiday. Fortunately Yoko summons Sean to turn up and with his arrival things start to look up - perhaps permanently

No more liquids today.
I want you all dry inside.

Why?

Mummy here has been at work
70% of her waking hours

for the last six months.

She's paid a massive gas bill,
avoided Germaine reproducing

and treated you all for fleas
without you even knowing.

So...

because I am frigging worth it,

we are having a holiday.

Yeah!

Ooh!



This is gonna be amazing.

I haven't had a holiday
since I thought we had poltergeist

and I slept in the garden.

Urgh!

Urgh!

Right.

These won't fit so you're going
to have to wear them.

Er.

Hey, Mum,
where are we staying?

Is it an Airbnb?

I've always dreamt of staying
in the sea-side house

of a fabulous gay couple.

We'd strike up a friendship over e-mail
and then they'd adopt me,

like two Daddy Warbuckses...



We're staying in
Grampy's mate's caravan.

What? A caravan! Then can I bring
Callum for entertainment?

This is a golden time
in our relationship.

I've finally persuaded him to let me
squeeze the blackheads on his face.

Sorry, Germaine, no extra passengers.

I don't have space
for the frigging winter coats,

so if I didn't give birth to it,
it's not getting in that car.

And since none of you
friggers finished

last night's Bombay mix stew,
that's coming too.

I'm so glad I'm missing
Ruby's quantitative easing lecture

to eat déjà vu stew in a caravan.

Check this out!

It's the car I've always wanted.

All I need now is that Leona Lewis
in the passenger seat

and I'm living the dream!

What the frig?
You can't afford this.

You're absolutely right, Della.

But Ken Foster from the Pendeford Garage
set me up with a payment plan.

The man from Del Monte said yes!

She's my pride and joy.

Dad, the interest rate's 38%.
That's some expensive joy.

I'm only gonna get divorced
once in my life, Della.

I'm not Zsa Zsa Gabor.

So I decided to seize the Daewoo...

Hey? Seize the Daewoo.
Seize the Daewoo, Della...

Hey, we can call it the Grampymobile!

Excuse me.

This is not a Grampymobile.

I'm single now and loving it.

This is a shagging wagon.

Right, you're the keeper
of the humbugs, Yoko.

When I say humbug,
you humbug me. And quickly.

A moment's distraction at the speed
the shagging wagon goes

and whammo,
straight into the back of an arctic.

Do you want an exhaust pipe
through your gullet? Do you?

This car does not stop till Borth.

No-one is getting out to piss
on the hard-shoulder, you get me?

OK, Mum.

Not you, bab.

You can piss when you like.

They're beating us, Mum!

Don't worry.
We'll catch him.

He's got engine power and a sat nav

but with his prostate
he'll need a wazz at Welshpool.

Humbug!

- Callum just dumped me!
- Give me a break.

I can't be doing with downers
in the shagging wagon, Germaine.

If I wanted an air of depression
I'd have bought a Daihatsu.

How can he dump me?

It's against the natural order.

In that picture
of the monkeys evolving in a line,

he's about three in

and I'm the dude at the end
who's got it together to be a human.

And monkey three does not
dump human dude!

Grampy!
You got stew all over me!

Oi, mind my interior!
That's real imitation leather, that.

Here, Aretha.
You have the stew.

That's heartbreak stew
and I don't want it.

Stop titting about, Germaine.
Your mum's gaining on us here.

I'm coming for you, you old sod.

I'm not happy
about your music choice, Germaine.

This miserable bollocks is gonna
be putting drag on the car.

Suck it up, Grampy.

If I'm not allowed
to talk about my feelings,

whoever this dude is
will have to do it for me.

Come on! Who's this silly tart
crossing at the last minute?

Isn't that your teacher,
Aretha?

The one you said had
the logic of Wittgenstein

and the vision of George Orwell?

Affirmative.
That is she.

Lives in Telford
does she?

Very lah-de-dah.

Yeah.
Enjoy it while it lasts.

He'll betray you in a heartbeat.

It appears I've heartbreak
stew on me, too.

Yeah!

Great.

Now Ride Of The bleeding Valkyries
has overtaken me.

Humbug!

We're about
to cross into Wales, kiddos.

Yeah!

If you talk to anyone local,

tell them your great-grandma
was born in Caernarvon.

I'm not having anyone
being overcharged for Curly Wurlys.

OK, Mum.

This is going to be awesome.

Like a nature documentary

but without Germaine listing
the animals she fancies.

Hey, I'm single and I'm looking.

Watch out, animals!

See that woodland?

They used to do badger baiting
there in the old days.

Grampy, no!
Not the badgers.

No, don't you worry
about the badgers, Yoko.

They've got Bryan May now.

Dad, I beat you.

I told you the Shrewsbury bypass
would see me right.

Yeah, well, I had misery guts
Germaine here holding me back.

I'd like to see Clarkson get up
to 50 with all this shit going on.

It's like being on tour
with the Nolan Sisters.

Callum dumped me, Mum!

Yeah. You've got some
serious mothering to do there.

Woman's work, that.

Right, let's see what Deano left us.

I hope he turned the gas off.

So go on, then.
What happened?

Him: "Wassup?".
Me: "On hols".

Him: "K".
Me: "U got my jmpr?"

- Him...
- Skip to the actual dumping, petal?

Him: "Lz chat whn U bk".

Me: "Wht abt?"

Him: "It R nt wkg".

Me: "WTF?"

Him: Apologetic faced panda.

Me: Confused face panda...

Stop now, I get the picture.

You called it, Mum.

You said he was a prat.

Yeah, but... he was your prat.

And you never forget your first prat.

What do I do now?

Well, if you weren't underage
I'd buy you a bottle of Malibu,

let you sob it out,
hold your hair out of the bog

while you did your coconutty sicks
and put you to bed with a bucket.

But I can't do that, so we'll have
to think of something else.

Tell you what.

How about you get first
dibs on the oven chips,

I buy you half a day of Wi-Fi

and put Aretha in charge of emptying
the chemical toilet?

That all right with you, Aretha?
Bit of sisterly solidarity?

Sure.
I've had the heartbreak stew.

Only fitting
I get the heartbreak poo.

It needs an airing, I grant you.

Did Deano have pets?

Aye, he was what
you'd call a woodsman.

Imagine that Aragorn
but with raging alcoholism and a goiter.

He kept a good cellar, did Deano.

Did Deano kill that badger?

Yep.

Ringleader of the baiting crew, he was.

Sometimes he'd fight them himself.

I don't think I like Deano.

Don't speak ill of the dead, Yoko.

- Deano's dead?
- Yep.

As far as his bar tab
at the Red Lion is concerned, anyway.

Great, we're in a dead man's caravan.

To Deano.

Oh, Yoko.

Even your face being level
with my groin isn't cheering me.

First bang on that toilet!
That Banks' has gone right through me.

These walls are so thin.
It's like being inside Grampy's urethra.

You wouldn't be the first.

Oooh...

There's the brass section.

Right, then.

Let's get this holiday started.

Mum!

Ten seconds, bab.

Aaah...

There. I've had my holiday.
What is it, my boy?

Look at this.

Now we're talking.
Pass that to Mummy, petal.

Pump action. Double firing.
1.5 liter tank. 3m range.

Nice piece.

Another thing
I won't miss about Callum

is how he would always
fall asleep during Mr Selfridge.

It's like he didn't care about

the challenges
of early visual merchandising.

These mattresses are
basically Ryvitas.

Aretha, I am nobly holidaying
through the pain,

the least you can do
is make the best of it.

You're not the one
on chemical toilet duty.

I'm dealing with dead Deano's
aftermath out there.

Well, I'm coming to terms with
the end of a nine-week relationship.

And if you had any feelings at all
you'd know that's far worse

than what an old man left
in a chemical toilet.

I see...

- so I don't have any feelings?
- No, you don't.

Guys! Look!

Urgh!

Wasp!

- Urgh!
- Germaine!

That was a cuckoo bumblebee!
They're really rare!

Well, it's even rarer now.
No need to thank me.

Will everyone just stop
killing everything?

Aaargh!

Oi!

You prats!

I'm trying to get
my Lanzarote on in here.

I'm going to the beach
and you can't stop me.

Wow.

Yoko has finally gone loco.

Dance for Mummy, petal.

Argh! Argh!

Breathe in that sea air, Del!

This is the life!

Whoo... aah.

Trouble?

Ken Foster wants his first
shagging wagon repayment.

Go on, top your hat up, bab.

I thought he'd give me
a month to get my ducks in a row,

but Mr Foster does not piss around.

Well, you don't get to be
the premier used car dealer in Pendeford

without squeezing a few balls.

I can't pay him.
I'm broke.

I've pissed it all away on high
grade chronic and Loose Women DVDs.

Sounds like you're spiralling, Dad.

Yeah, you're right.

I've not been thinking straight.

I'm wondering if I might be having
a breakdown, Del.

I've been trying to distract myself
with this playboy lifestyle.

The shagging wagon
and cans of cold Banks'.

But my house of cards
has come crashing down.

- What am I going to do?
- Well.

For you I'd prescribe
half a bottle of cheap whiskey,

a dirty lasagne, two episodes
of The Sweeney and an early night.

- How does that sound?
- Sounds good, Del.

And we'll sort out
this car business in the morning.

Don't worry, Dad.
You'll be all right.

Aye. I guess I've got myself out
of worse scrapes than this.

Like that time they tried to do me
for Keith Moon's death.

Look at what did you did, Germaine.

You've needlessly crushed
a small innocent creature.

And that bee.

How was I to know it was
a good insect instead of a bad insect?

- I'm not an entymologist.
- Let's go and find her

before she decides
to swim off to live with the orcas.

I doubt she's even made it
to the beach.

Given her sense of direction
she's probably just

walking round and round
the shagging wagon,

crying.

Following the Dalai Lama on Twitter
really has opened up

your heart, hasn't it?

Come on.

- Yoko! Yoko!
- Yoko! Yokes!

- Yoko!
- Germaine, look properly.

She's not going to be under a log.
She's not a salamander.

Shut up, Aretha.

It's all right for you,
walking around making bitchy comments

about everything
like Simon Schama in his cagoule.

It's all right for me?

Look at me, Germaine.
Look at me!

Do I look happy?

No.

You look red-faced...

and angry.

- And kind of sad.
- There. You got it. Bingo.

Why are you sad?

I'm sad for the same reason you are.

Wait. You were in love with
Callum too?

You bitch!

I wasn't in love with Callum!

So who were you in love with then?

It doesn't matter now anyway.

It wasn't even love.

It was just...

a confusing combination of respect

and a shared appreciation for
a Channel 4 economics correspondent.

Come on...

tell me.

- I'd really like to know.
- Yeah, I bet you would.

But I'm not going to tell you.

What I will tell you is
I feel shit too.

Does that help?

You know, it does, yeah.

I guess even Simon Schama
hurts sometimes.

Come on.

- Wait. Were you in love with Grampy?
- Germaine!

I dunno.
We don't really know anyone else.

And he is kind of spiffing
in those shorts.

Germaine!

OK!
Sorry.

Hey, Aretha.
I tell you what,

I have got sand in my vajajay.

And I like it.

Yoko! Yoko! Yoko!

Dad!

You came!

I had to.

You sent me literally the most dramatic
text message I've ever had.

You could have been more specific
about where you were though.

"Crying on a beach" didn't give me
a lot to work with.

You tell me all about it,
I'll sort it out.

Can you sort out the environment?

Jesus, that's a biggie.

We're killing everything, Dad.

You're right, Yoko.

We're paving paradise
to put up a Tesco Express.

And everyone's just drinking
the Yop and looking the other way.

But... the good news is

we're also wiping ourselves out.

When mankind finally buggers it up

and there's only ten of us left
living in caves in Kinver,

some other species will rise up
and have a go.

And they'll probably be better at it.

Maybe the penguins will take over.

I reckon they'd run a benign regime.

I love penguins.

And I think the penguins
will love you too, Yoko.

Yoko! Germaine!
Aretha!

Don't shoot.

Yoko summoned Dad here from Wolvo, Mum.
And she punched a wall.

If she threw wine in someone's face,
she'd be a full-on diva.

We're having a great time.
They made the fire.

I taught them how
to rub two sticks together

and how to give up on sticks
and buy a lighter from Costcutter.

And I've solved
my shagging wagon problem, Del.

Sean's gonna take her back,

tell Ken Foster I'm dead
and cancel the direct debit.

Mr Foster might want to see a body

but we'll cross that bridge
when we come to it.

And Mum,
I'm totally over Callum.

He's not the Richard Burton
to my Elizabeth Taylor after all.

He's the Michael Jackson
to my Elizabeth Taylor.

You know, just some dude
with a monkey.

Speak that truth, Germaine.

Yeah, all right, Oprah Himfrey.

Enough of this jibber-jabber.

Let's get drunk for Deano!

- To Deano!
- To Deano!

Deano! Deano! Deano!

Deano, Deano, Deano!

Goodnight, Yoko.

Goodnight, Aretha.

Goodnight, Germaine.

Seriously, we have got to tell
Grampy about his sleep apnea.

He literally stopped breathing then.

Night, night, Grampy.
Sweet dreams.

It's nice here, isn't it?

If you like midges, Costcutters

and not being able
to pronounce place names.

I've got a job.

On another rig.

Thank Christ!

I don't have to take it, though.

We could stay here.

You in the caravan, me...

in a hut in the woods.

I could chop wood
with my top off like Poldark.

Take the job, Sean.

When the oil runs out,
George Osborne declares martial law

and they start clearing
the estates with drones,

then we can move to the woods.

When that happens,
I'll come and find you.

Even if I have to fight my way
through the Jobcentre terminators

and turn up with a gangrenous leg
and half my face missing.

I know you will, mate.

Though, to be fair,

you wouldn't take the bin out
when you had a sprained ankle.

You'd put me out of my misery
if I needed it, wouldn't you?

I don't want to be that guy,
festering in the corner

while everyone else
is getting on with shit.

Don't worry.

I will smash your head in a blunt
instrument when your time comes.

Actually,

I think about you whenever I see
a suitably sized stone.

Bagsie I get to choose
the middle name this time.

What about Penguin?