Spaced (1999–2001): Season 1, Episode 3 - Art - full transcript

Tim has been up all night playing Resident Evil and is still feeling the effects of some speed that he bought. Daisy has an interview at a new women's magazine publisher. Brian's ex-partner of performing art, Vulva, invites him to a showing of his newest performance piece. Daisy and Tim join him. Tim freaks out and starts seeing everyone as Zombies because of the mix of booze, speed, Twiglets (which make him violent) and the lack of sleep he's had. When Vuvla acts rudely towards Brian, Tim comes to the rescue with his hallucinations.

(Door creaks)


You want a piece of me? Come get some.


Heads up.



Oh, shit!

- Oh, hiya.
- Don't sneak up on me like that!

Ooohh! Do you want a cup of tea?


- Aarrghh!
- (Moaning)

- There's your tea.
- Thank you.

- You're up early.
- I haven't been to bed.

Me and Mike met up with two Scottish guys
in the pub and they gave us cheap speed.

Oh, Tim, that's so tacky.

I know. They were so nice.

If we'd have said no, they'd have got offended
and beaten us to death with a pool cue.

Where's Mike now?

(Makes motorbike noises)

Is there any post?

- I did hear droppage.
- I'm gonna go and get my rejection letters.


I met this really, really nice girl last night.

Shh! I'm supposed to be your girlfriend.

- Marsha might hear.
- Don't be daft!

- You never know who's listening.
- Nobody's listening.

- You never know who's listening.
- Nobody's listening.


So who was this girl, then?

Her name was Cassandra, she was
a psychic, she gave me her phone number.

That's our phone number.

Man, she's good.

(Sighs loudly) Rejection, rejection, rejection.

This is shit! This is so shit!

I'm a good writer, you know?
All I want is a chance to prove it.

Yeah? Too much to ask?

(Sniffs) Oh, I really miss my boyfriend.

I'm gonna go to Hull to see Richard.

Don't try and stop me, Tim. OK?
I really need this.

Oh! It's from Flaps!

- Who?
- The woman's magazine.

I've got an interview today!
I'd better get ready.

- What about Richard?
- Who? Right, I'm gonna go to the shops.

- Do you want anything?
- Porn!

Tim, I'm not gonna buy you porn.

You can get it from railway sidings
like everybody else.

I can't, I'm an adult.
I'm supposed to leave it there.

(Shooting and moaning)

Oh, hi, Bri!

- (Shooting and moaning)
- Brought your mop back.

- (Moaning)
- What are you playing?

It's a subtle blend of lateral thinking
and extreme violence.

What, like It's A Knockout?

Did you want something?

No. Not really.

Oh, there's a letter here for you.
Came yesterday.

It's open.

Yeah. I opened it by accident
because we've both got I's in our names.


(Ticking stops)

- It's from Vulva.
- Is that another woman's magazine?

Vulva, it's an old friend.
She's having a show tonight.

You've got a friend called Vulva?
Who's called Vulva?

- Her real name's lan.
- What do you mean her real name's lan?

- She's non-gender specific.
- What, you mean he's a tranny?

- More than that.
- What, a big, fat tranny?

Vulva. We had a multimedia performance-art
partnership before she moved on.

Such aesthetic wonders. Such vibrant times.

Yeah, I can imagine.

No. No, no. We did valuable work.

She was the beautiful one, really.
I just danced to her tune.

It was purity.

It was physical. Not in a sexual sense,
no, we were collaborative.

I don't expect you to understand. Most people
don't want to hear, they just switch off.

It's hard to hear the story of a love affair
between two straight men,

one of whom is the most divine woman alive.

(Sighs) So, are you gonna go?

- I don't know, I haven't seen her for ages.
- No, I meant are you gonna go now?

Oh, yeah.

Research, research, research, research,
research, research, research.

Clothes, clothes, ideas, clothes...

Clothes, ideas, photographers... and... ooh!



Current affairs, right. Ooh, current affairs.

OK. What do you think about...

What do you think about current affairs,

What do I think about them?
Erm, well, I like them. I think they're good.

Right. What shall I wear?

- I think you should dress like a lesbian.
- How do lesbians dress?

Kind of like Suzi Quatro?

It's not really a lesbian magazine.

It's more for modern, go-getting women
with something to say, women like...

- Suzi Quatro?
- No! Like me.

I'm not sure if I should go casual or strappy.
Reliable and frumpy or stupid and glamorous.

Why don't you go something in-between?

- Frumpy and stupid.
- Save you getting ready.

- Tim, I'm serious! This is important, I've...
- Look! Daisy...

Daisy, Daisy, Daisy.

It's gonna be OK.

Now have a big toke on this South African
drugs-reefer-style spliff doobie.

I dunno. Might make me paranoid.

(Sighs) Oh, all right.


(? Music from Psycho)

- (Loud ticking)
- (Gasps)

- (Gasps)
- You all right?


(? Chirpy '60s pop)

I nearly didn't make it. I was followed
most of the way here by a squirrel.

Must have seen it six or seven times.

- Maybe it was six or seven different squirrels.
- (Laughs)

- I like your shoes.
- They're Patrick Cox's.

Oh, right. Borrowed them. Yeah.

Small feet for a bloke.

(Laughs) Oh, give Josh a big kiss for me.
See you Saturday. Daisy Steiner?

Hiya, Linda! Be with you in a minute.
Love the shoes. Patrick Cox's?


Maybe you should try buying your own shoes
in future.

Hello, Vulva.

So... come.



Hello! Shit.

Hello, Vulva.

Yeah, hi, Vulva. Nice invitation.

Mm?! Oh, yeah, yeah. Hi, Vulva.

Vulva! Hi! How are you? How...?

How are you? How are you?
How... are... you?

Brian, painter. Damien... Damien...?

Damien Hirst, hi, it's Brian.

Vulva, I'm talking to Damien.

Is it water with the sheep in the box?

No, I paint. Lots of work with... paint.

I do big... big... big...

Fucking loser. Yeah, yeah, big loser.

Brian, painter, loser.

Big, fucking... loser!


- Take a seat.
- (Heartbeat)

Daisy, is it?

Ah. Like a little flower.

- (Laughs)
- Right, I'm Yolanda.

This is Tracy, who is our stylist,
and Catherine who is Head of Marketing,

and you've already met Sarah,
she's Administration.

The position requires you to work closely
with Michelle and Tara

who are busy working on features
for our first edition

which we're aiming to get out
by the end of the month.

We've started our launch campaign,
have you seen it?

(Heartbeat stops)

- I'm sorry.
- Have you seen the launch campaign?


Our magazine reflects the needs
of today's women.

We want it big, hard and we want it now.

I knew I should have bought
Huge Fat Cocks.

We need to know whether you feel,
as someone working for our magazine,

you could honestly and intelligently
reflect the needs of our demographic...

(? Magic Roundabout)

...the 20-40-year-old-woman
who doesn't say no,

who sees her home interiors
the same way she sees her life...

(? Magic Roundabout drowns speech)


We don't want you to pigeonhole yourself
but would you call yourself a postfeminist?


Let me put it this way,
do you drink pints or shots?

Well, I do drink a pint, I will drink a pint,

but I've been known to drink
a vodka and tonic, you know,

at a wedding, or...

Well... thanks for coming.

It's been really useful.

(Sighs) Right, well...

Girl power!

Don't write me off, Vulva.

I can be...


(Laughs) I'm sorry, Brian.

- Please.
- It's your work.

Abstract expressionism
is so mid-to-late '80s. (Laughs)

(Whoops of laughter)

(Laughter echoes)

(Flicks light switch)

'There's no reason for us to stay
any longer than necessary.'

'Let's split up, look for any survivors
and get out of here.'

- (Sighs)
- Hey!

- How did it go?
- Yeah, great. It went well, actually.

- Anyone phone?
- Your boyfriend.

- Anyone important?
- No.

(Sighs loudly)

You know when you said it went well?

Well, when you said "well",

- did you mean shite?
- Yes.

I froze up. I just... made a tit of myself.

How much of a tit?

I said..."girl power".

Did you do this?


Well, I mean, you know,
you might have impressed them.


- Tim!
- Yeah, I'm thinking.

Oh, shit! Shitting shit it!

Oh, don't be so dramatic, you don't know for
definite you haven't got it. They might phone.

(Phone rings)

Well, pick it up, then!

Hello? Oh, hi, Mike. Yeah, he's here,
I'll just get him. It's your boyfriend.

He's not my boyfriend.

- Hi, babe.

- Hello, Timmy.
- 'Where are you? '

- Er, Sheffield.
- What are you doing in Sheffield?

- Fell asleep on the tube.
- The tube doesn't go to Sheffield.

- Yeah, I must have changed at King's Cross.
- Well, don't fall asleep on the way back, OK?

- (Snores)
- 'Mike? '


What is it with you two?
You sound like his dad sometimes.

Well, it's a long story.

(Phone rings)

(Phone rings)

Hello? Brian?

No, he's the weirdo downstairs.

Oh! Sorry, Brian! Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Come up. OK, bye.

Brian's coming up.

Why did he phone?

I don't know,
why did he paint his arse blue last week?

- You don't like him, do you?
- I do, I just think he's a bit pretentious.

How do I look?

- A bit pretentious?
- I think you look lovely, Brian.

Do you think I should lose the waistcoat?

I think you should burn it, cos, you know,
if you lose it, you might find it again.

Are you going out, Bri?

Yeah, he's gonna see
his transsexual ex-boylgirlfriend's new play.

Oh, that sounds great! Oh, we'll come!
You'll come, won't you, Tim?

- No way, it's not my cup of tea.
- No, it isn't.

Oh, come on, Bri, it'll be great, it'll be fun.

You'll hate it. It's just a bit of art,
load of wankers, influential people.

- Free booze, though!
- Mm, yeah.

OK, let's go to the theatre.

You can come if you want
but you probably won't get in.

There's three of us,
we've only got one invitation.

That's OK. Go on, in you go.
There's not that many here.

- They haven't got tickets.
- Look, mate, I've told you, you can go in.

It's ridiculous, they haven't even been invited.

Just leave it, Brian.
Let's just go in, it'll be fine.

We're not gonna embarrass you,
we're here if you need us.

OK. Sorry. Sorry.


- Shit!
- Hi!

- What you doin' here?
- Oh, we just came with Brian.

Oh, how wonderful!

- So how's it all goin' with the flat?
- It's fine.

Sorry, you come here for a big night out
and there's your landlady spying on you.

(Forced laugh)

Hello, Brian.
Haven't seen you for a long while.

Been painting.

You've just been trying to avoid me,
haven't ya?

- (Bell rings)
- The show's starting.

(Desolate wind)


(? Trumpets)

- Hey!
- Sh!



Dust me clean!

A breath... alizer!

Using... a cleaning spray.


- jerk!
- Suck it in!

Filter it out!

Go on!

(Frenzied beats and manic laughter)


Beautiful. Beautiful.

I cannot believe I said "girl power".

Hey, deadhead! Take a bite of peach.

(Gunshot and moaning)






(Ripple of applause)

It's not finished!

- It's finished.
- (Applause)

- Do you mind if I put my glass there?
- It's a free country.

I thought... you were brilliant.

- And who are you, then?
- I'm Daisy Steiner, writer, sort of journalist.

Do you know any famous
or important people?

My mum's cousin
went to school with Enya.

She was in the year above
but they had the same percussion teacher.

I hate your mum and I hate you.

That's brilliant. Brilliant!

- Vulva, hi.
- Brian! You came!

- Wouldn't have missed it for the world.
- Are you still painting?

Not exclusively.
I'm moving into multimedia pastures -

installations, a platter of organic processes
mixed with a pinch of irony

and a side helping of self-deprecation.

Sounds delicious!

You should see what's for pudding.

(Laughs loudly)

(Exaggerated laughter)

Oh, Brian, you came.

No, I just spilt my drink.

So nice to see you. Are you still painting?

N-not... er... multimedia...

platters... irony and self-deprecation.

Sounds a little hard to swallow.

There's... there's pudding.

Pud-ding! I always loved your quirkiness.

You must be able to see I've moved on.

The projects I've been working on
with Hoover

are the most incisive and effective
I've ever done.

I can't believe some of the shit
I used to do with you.

That's the difference between you and me,
Brian, I could always see into the distance,

you, it has to be said,
were always a little short-sighted.

Anyway, we're having a postmortem
at the Squid and Mashed Potato.

(Voice distorts)
I suppose you could tag along.

You make your mind up
and maybe I'll see you later.

- (Hissing)
- (? Music from Psycho)

Now, come on! There's no need for us
to be here any longer than necessary.

Let's split up, look for survivors
and get out of here!

I'm writing a novel, poetry, articles,
short stories, children's book.

- Ooh, and I'm doing a skydiving course.
- Look, piss off, will ya?

- Come on!
- What are you doing?

- I'm saving us!
- This is Hoover.

- Ahh!
- (Moans)


(Marsha) Bye, then.

I'll see you later.

- (Moaning)
- Aagghh!


- So beautiful.
- Yeah.

Like a... kind of visual poetry.

- Wish I could do that.
- Well, I'm sure you could if you had funding.

Right hook... bang.

- What?
- I should have done it long ago, Daisy?

In his drunken, childish way, Tim saved me.

Talk about expression, talk about the truth,

but what truer expression is there
than the purity of the clenched fist?

I am a man, Daisy.

A man!

Vulva treated me like a monkey!

I'm more than that, I am a man!

A monkey-man!

A beast with a mind, and a mind, and fists!

And I will not be subdued again,
not by Vulva, not by anyone!

Hey, fella!

- Ngh!
- (Whimpers)

(Cock crows and door slams)

Morning, slugger. Any letters?

I don't know.


- How do you feel?
- Oh, like I'm gonna die.

- Oh, me too.
- So what happened last night?

We went to see
an interesting piece of contemporary theatre,

we drank an enormous amount of free wine,
we ate our body weight in Twiglets

and you punched an artist in the face.


- I'm not supposed to eat Twiglets.
- Why not?

They make me violent.

It's from the magazine.

Maybe they did like me.
Maybe they liked my kookiness.

I could be like the cute one in the office,
you know?

The ditzy one who always gets it wrong,
the office clown.

I'd be like "Ooh, Yolanda, I've lost the file."

She'd say "That's all right, Daisy,
we just like having you around,

cos you're crazy and wild,
an asset to the office dynamic."

- It's a no.
- Oh, well, never mind.

Who needs them anyway, Daisy?
What do they know? They're just jealous.

- Of what?
- Your tits?

It's not about my tits any more, Tim.
I wish it were.

It's not like the old days

when you could get a job wearing a short skirt
and showing a bit of cleavage.

I've got to prove my intellectual worth.

I know there's something I've got to be,
I just don't know what it is.

I feel like a rabbit...

trapped on a road to nowhere,

frozen in the headlights of the 21 st century.

Daisy, for the last time,
will you stop being so dramatic?

Why do you have to make
such a performance out of everything?


- (? Magic Roundabout)
- Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit...

Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit,
rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit!

Ooh, like a little flower!

Thank you for coming, it's been very useful!

It's been very useful!

Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit!

Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit!

(Whispers) It's not as easy as it looks, is it?

- Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit...
- (Snores)