Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps (2001–2011): Season 7, Episode 7 - African Death Face - full transcript

I hereby serve notice on this property
to begin repossession... proceedings.

I'm gonna be on the streets turning tricks.

She's got a baby, you can't just turf her out!

Janet, we would like to...

buy your house.

What? Really?

- 'Fraid so.
- Oh, Donna!

That is the best thing a friend could do!

Don't mention it.

I'm sure that you and Corinthian and Louise
will be very happy in Gaz's flat.

♪ Hey, Mr Bartender, give me a drink



♪ I want a cold wet glass with bubbles in it

♪ That doesn't mean I can't handle
anything stronger, now

♪ Just think I'll wait a while

♪ I'll have a pint of lager, please

♪ And a pack of flakeys ♪

I can't believe it.

This place, this palace, belongs to us now.

Well, excuse me if I don't dance a jig of joy,
but I've got my interview.

- How's your leg?
- It's preventing me from dancing a jig of joy.

But, I can still do this.

Yeah!

Yeah!

Oh, while I'm gone, you need to get rid
of all this worthless junk.

Worthless?! You can't put a price on...



Oh, no. Hang on.

49p!

Hey, say what you want about Jonny,
but he really had an eye for a pink flamingo.

Right. I've got everything, wish me luck.

- Good luck.
- I don't need luck!

That area manager job's mine.

I'm gonna knock 'em dead at that interview,

then I'm gonna stand over their mangled,
bloody corpses and shout,

"I'm Donna Wilkinson, hear me roar!
Ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

Get rid of these things!

Oh, please, Donna! This, look.

It's all I've got to remind me of Jonny.

That's a photo of Janet.

This is Jonny's favourite photo of Janet.

And this, look.

That's Janet's bra.

Wait.

Hungry bum.

Eurgh!

How hungry?

- Just get on with it!
- Fine! I'll have a clearout. For you.

Good. Now, give us a hug.

Eurgh! No way, bum-hands!

See, Corinthian? It's not so bad living here.

Might be a bit more crap than our old place
but at least it's ours.

(Piercing scream)

- Louise?
- Yeah?

What are you doing?

Practising my childbirth scream, stupid.

I need to sound sexy
in case there's any hot doctors about.

Clooneys or Doogie Howsers or...

at a stretch, Quinn.

Louise, you're not gonna pull a doctor
when you're in labour.

A person coming out of you is likely to put off
a person coming into you.

I need something that says
I'm still young and nubile

even if me chuff looks like a dropped pie.

- Well, do it quietly, please.
- Certainly.

(Piercing scream)

No, I can't live like this!

I'm gonna go and demand
Gaz gives me back my house.

That's all I've got to remind me of Jonny.

Well, apart from this.

That's a photo of Gaz.

Jonny's favourite photo of Gaz.

And this.

That's Gaz's T shirt!

Jonny's favourite T shirt of Gaz's.

- Uhh.
- (Screams)

For the last t... Munch?

Ohh, I slept like a horse...

by which I mean standing up.

Oh, my God, you mean
you've been squatting in Gaz's flat?

Well, yeah, I squatted for a bit,

then I stood up.

Now it's toilet time,
so I'm going for another squat.

Right, Munch, all we gotta do
is sort out Janet's old stuff into the tacky...

and the not tacky.

- Right.
- Right.

One, genuine bona fide, fully authenticated,
Knight Rider...

snow globe.

Tough one.

The head says tacky, the heart says timeless.

- You've got to think like a woman.
- Oh.

You know something,
I should never have married him.

- You what?
- You said think like a woman.

I was thinking like Rose West.

I meant think like Donna!

Oh! You know something,
I should never have married him.

Right, tacky or not tacky.

One mint-condition, novelty...

"I-heart-boobies" mug.

See, I reckon she'd like that.

Cos she loves boobies,
I'm always catching her playing with 'em.

Really?

Obviously she says she's washing 'em.

Then she says, "Why are you hiding
in the linen basket, peering at me?"

"And why have you got an empty ketchup bottle
on the end of your knob?"

She's got to learn to respect
your boundaries, Gaz.

Aye, Stick it on the "maybe" pile.

OK! Tacky or not tacky.

One limited edition...

monkey with a boner statuette.

See, Donna loves monkeys
and she likes boners.

But does she like monkey boners?

I like monkey boners.

No. That's horse boners.

No, horse racing.

No, motorbike racing.

No... No, hang on, it is monkey boners!

Hey!

It's too hard. Let's just chuck everything out.

OK.

Oh, wait, wait, wait, wait!!

Look!

It's Jonny's T shirt.

Oh, you can't chuck this out.

Ohh...

Think of all the happy memories, eh?
All the happy times he spent wearing this.

Gaz, I think that's Janet's.

And to answer the T shirt's question...

yes!

Can I touch it?

- Donna Wilkinson.
- That's me.

Riddle me this.

What can you bring to the table

vis-a-vis solutioneering blue hat answers
to black hat problems?

Bearing in mind we're selling the sizzle here,
not the sausage.

Sorry, pardon?

OK. Let's cut the proverbial.

I need a highly-motivated go-to guy...

or girl - capable of envisioneering actionable
win-win scenarios

within a time-crunch work frame. Thoughts?

I have a GCSE in music.

Interesting.

OK, let's stir-fry this in your mind wok.

You have to incentivise your team.

How would you conceive achievable solutions
to push that particular banana hammock?

B-Brainstorm.

Envelope...

Wok.

OK! Erm...

Donna.

Yeah, I think that's enough.

We'll touch base ASAP a propos
future interfacing.

- Wh...
- We'll let you know.

Aye aye! Don't get many of them
to the pound.

Munch, you can't say things like that
any more.

What you mean is, you can't get many of them
to the kilogram.

(Knock on door)

Oh, hi Janet.

Gaz, you listen to me.
I demand you give me back my... home.

My home!

My stuff!

My genuine bona fide, fully authenticated,
Knight Rider snow globe, where is it?

- What about Jonny?
- Relax, it's all packed away in the kitchen.

You told me to put it all in the skip.

No. No, I... told him to...

to skip to the kitchen.

Now, go and fetch it for Janet. And skip.

- You what?
- Skip.

It's just redecoration,
Donna wants it all sophisticated.

She's got really posh tastes.

I mean, she loves Il Divo.

She won't even eat pies from a tin.

And I suppose my plastic flamingos
are too tacky for Lady Muck?

No.

Well, yeah. We're keeping all the-the ceilings,
and the walls.

Even thought about keeping the carpet
until we noticed the squelching.

Gaz, why are you wearing...

Jonny's T shirt? I know. Just...

makes me feel close to him, you know?

- Isn't that...
- Jonny's.

Oh, better get on with the decorating.

Well, you do that. I'll just go back
to my tacky little life.

My tacky house and my tacky clothes
and my tacky baby.

Although actually he's more sticky.

I don't think you're tacky. I think you've got
great taste, you should help with the decorating.

Oh, rubbish. Everything about me
is horrible and ugly.

That's just stupid.

You're beautiful, Janet.

Me? Yeah, right.

Yes, you.

You're the most beautiful...

..wife of me best friend,
and best friend of me wife's.

Anyhoo...

Yeah.

So come on, help me with the decorating.

Just don't fill the place with a load of Jonny
memorabilia, like you did the wedding.

I wouldn't do that. I learnt my lesson...

- Where do you want him?
- I was thinking by the door.

Louise, what am I gonna do?

- What?
- About me interview.

I mean, I got through to the second round,
thank God for that music GCSE.

I don't think I'll make it past there,
the interviewer talked such utter bullshit.

- You should have just bullshitted him back.
- How?

Well, first you open a bilateral face mash,

then you pull stumps
and pick the low-hanging fruit.

That's it! That's exactly what he was like!

You've either got it or you haven't.
Now, tell me - what do you think to this?

(Squealing grunt)

It's hideous. You look like the knotted end
of a used condom.

Donna, it's my childbirth face!

It's very important that I'm chic and demure

while the midwife's up to her wrist
in my gammon kebab.

Ah, the magic of childbirth.

So, you must have finished
your ante-natal classes by now.

Finished? I never started.

- What?
- It was just like being back at school,

all that listening and learning
and letting strangers look at your fanny.

Louise, this is serious. Childbirth is the most
painful experience you'll ever have.

- Yeah, I know.
- No, listen to me.

When I was born I was stuck in my mum's
birth canal for two hours.

She said it was like shitting out
a three-piece suite.

Sideways.

With people on it.

Fat people.

In wheelchairs.

I'll cope!

- Her fringe got all sweaty.
- Oh, Jesus!

I'll be hideous! The hot doctors won't like me!

Well, I don't think many doctors'll
be looking at your fringe.

Not if it's all sweaty they won't.

Relax! You just need to be prepared.
You need a birthing partner.

I tell you what - I'll do it
if you teach me how to bullshit.

I guess I can try.

Great. And don't worry.

I'm gonna keep you calm and relaxed
through the agonising bloodbath

that is the miracle of childbirth.

(Squeals)

Do I know sophisticated
or do I know sophisticated?

(Chuckling)

Hey!

Do you know what the best part is?

I feel ready to close the door on this place.
Settle into my new home.

How is the flat?

It's OK. Bit cramped.
Me, Munch, Louise and Corinthian.

Feel like the old woman that lived in a shoe.

Mainly cos it smells of feet.

- Aye. I do miss that place.
- I miss this place.

You should come and visit.

Yeah, you too. Whenever you want.

Night or day.

- Important to remember the little things.
- Yeah. All the smells.

Yeah. And the sounds.

The feel.

And the eyes.

The arms.

And lips.

- Ooh!
- Oh, my God!

And in front of Jonny!

No, no, it's fine. I'm sure he didn't see.
Look, he's busy serving.

No, Gaz, he sees everything, he's everywhere.

Like God or Polish people.

That's it, I should go. I'm really sorry.

- No, Gaz, wait!
- No, Janet, I can't do this!

- I live here now, don't I?
- Yes.

I should go back to my new home.

- Goodbye, Gaz.
- Yep.

- I forgot something.
- What, your bag?

No, this.

See, bullshitting is an ancient
and highly complex art form.

All modern bullshit as we know it descends
from the rules of semantic convolution.

as laid down in 5BC by Greek philosopher,

Turdophilles.

Really?

No.

Turdophilles?!

I made it up!

The secret is making your bullshit
as detailed and as exaggerated as possible.

That way, no one questions it.

Right.

Like the time I didn't come
to your birthday thing.

What...

You mean there was no spider monkey?

No banana shortage?

No savage attack, leaving you with a rare and
potentially fatal dose of African death face?

My God!

You're like the Picasso of bullshit artists.

Here's what you do - you walk into
the interviewer's office and you tell him,

"Let's cut the turnips
and get straight to the gravy!"

I Donna Wilkinson,
am a walking thought grenade.

I should write this down.

Because... modern business is a wet beehive.

And who wants to get caught rolling coconuts
the wrong way down a three-way street?

So, give me a job... please.

OK. Right, I think I'm getting it.

- Tim?
- Yes, my curly-haired cupcake?

I need to schedule some mouth time
with you, Aswad.

In regard to, um,

spanking our proverbial badgers
before the bat hits the frying pan.

Er, OK then.

My God!

He actually thought I knew
what I was talking about!

She's gone all Heather Mills, she has.

OK, I'm gonna phone and I'm gonna schedule
my second interview.

I mean, I'm going to head-synch with the
trans-telephonic motherbrain

in regards to dipping my sheepdogs
in the big corporate waterfall.

Hang on! What about being
my birthing partner?

In a bit. I need to put you on hold
while I process my aspiration fax. Ha!

Ha!

Oh.

This can never happen again.

We just can't help ourselves.
It's just that you've been so nice to me and...

Yeah, and you're so vulnerable and sad...

- It was a friend kiss.
- A friend kiss, yeah.

Exactly, it meant no more than
a pat on the back, like this.

Or a hug, like that.

Yeah.

Or a peck on the cheek, like this.

Or the equivalent of all three.

- We just did it again, didn't we?
- Pretty much, yeah.

That's it, I need to leave. We obviously can't
be trusted to be around each other.

Right. We should never be alone ever again.
One more for the road, come on.

News bad. Fall back... Jesus shitting Christ!

Er, Donna, th-this isn't what you think.

The house! You haven't done a thing!

Oh, that. Yes, I have.

I should have known you'd screw it up!

What? I thought this was, like, classy.

Gaz, your idea of classy is aiming
your ejaculation away from my hair.

I-I was... I was gonna do it,
then Munch came round this morning, and...

Oh, what? You sat around talking about wanking
for two hours?

No.

We talked about fishing for a bit.

Well, you're gonna redecorate properly
this time, and Janet -

you're gonna make sure he does.
Don't leave his side, not for a second.

I don't think that's a good idea.

You're a woman.
I know you won't let me down.

I want you all over Gaz's arse!

And make sure he does it right this time.

I want you to really make him sweat, Janet.

Put him to work. Hard and fast!

OK, we'll do it. We'll make it look classy.

Good. Now, guess who's got a career
re-interfacing networking opportunity

on their short-range radar planner.

Guess who's got a job interview.

Me!

Right, you lot, wish me luck!

I'm off to that London, to get a proper top
chuffing well-paid new job, like.

London? Will you bring me back
some hoummos?

Tim, I will bring you back so much hoummos
you'll vomit.

Just a tub's fine.

Donna, you can't go, you're supposed to be
my birthing partner.

Oh, Louise... I'm sorry, I forgot and my taxi's...

Anyway, you don't need one of those.
Childbirth's a piece of piss.

You said it was like shitting
a three-piece suite.

Sideways.

With people on it.

And my hair won't be pretty.

What I meant was,
it's like shitting a footstool,

length-ways with Vaseline on it.

Please.

I bought a childbirth manual and everything.

- OK, fine.
- Great.

Now, it says here the best thing to do
is a childbirth role play.

Well, great.
Let's get those contractions started.

Mmm... Slow, rhythmic opening
of the uterus to

Orinoco Flow by...

Irish chanteuse, Enya.

♪ Sail away, sail away, sail away

♪ Sail away, sail away, sail away ♪

Right. My taxi's coming,
any chance you could speed this uterus up?

Think Mambo Number Five.

♪ One, two, three, four, five
everybody's in the car so come on, let's ride ♪

No, no good. Um...

OK, then.

♪ Sail away, sail away, sail away ♪

- (Squeals)
- Oh, look!

Your waters broke!

It must be coming out.

Oh, OK.

- Better lie down then.
- Now, don't worry, Louise,

you're my friend and I will be here for you,
right by your side, every step of the...

- (Car horn)
- Well, that's me.

Honestly! The selfish cow... Ow!

Ooh... Is it me or did my cervix
just stretch and relax?

Oh... Oh my God. Baby time!

(Gasps)

- Can we talk?
- Gaz, there's nothing to talk about.

It was just a couple of meaningless snogs.

With 74 equally meaningless bottom touches.

And one equally meaningless bulge.

I know, but I've been thinking -
what if it's fate?

We keep getting thrown together. What if
someone's trying to tell us something?

I love you forever.

What? Janet...

Jonny.

He must have done it
when we were decorating.

Oh. Oh, yeah.

That is so romantic!

If you ignore the doodle marked
"Jonny's all-beef cock sausage".

Aye. He did draw a good dick.

And look at the shading on that helmet.

Gaz, maybe you're right. Maybe someone
is trying to tell us something.

Maybe it's Jonny.

Janet, he'd want you to move on.

You reckon?

Yeah. In fact, let's ask him.

Jonny, if you have a problem
with me being with Janet, give us a sign.

(Both gasp)

Wait, that's void.
Things falling over don't count.

Er, all right.
A simple, straightforward question, Jonny.

Do you want me to be with Janet?

Forget it.

I'll remember this, you selfish twat.

None of this matters. We can't be together
anyway, because you're married.

To my best friend.

Right, so what shall we do?

Keep out of each other's lives.
We can't keep dong this, we're adults now.

Yes, I know. God, I hate you sometimes,
you're so boring.

Gaz, I think we should...
We need to swap T shirts.

What? This is...

Mine. You know it is.

And this is yours.

I'm gonna need some help.

Ah...

Well... This is an unexpected turn of events.

Indeed.

It's almost like someone's
trying to tell us something.

Oh, for f...!

Right, I'm off.
And no snogging this time.

Don't worry. I'll stand back.

Goodbye, Gaz.

Goodbye, Janet.

Mind how you go.

(Sighs)

Cheeky cow! She could have washed it!

Ooh! Another contraction.

Oh, God, it's actually happening.

Thank God I've got my birthing partner.

(Louise's voice) I'm here for you, Louise,
unlike selfish, horrible Donna.

Just breathe deeply.

Do I... still look glamorous?

Yes, Louise, you do still look glamorous.

Thanks, me.

That's OK, Louise.
(Voice slows down and distorts)

(Squeals)

Fiddlesticks!

Did you want me?

- Munch!
- Oh, I was sleeping like a baby.

By which I mean, in my own shit.

Well, get back in your cupboard.
I'm trying to have my contractions...

Ow! That was a big one!

Oh, I love a good birth, me. I was there
every time me ma went into labour.

All 17 times.

What? Really?

Oh, yeah. You couldn't move
for afterbirth round our house.

We were swimming in the stuff.

Well, paddling.

That's it, then. You're my birthing partner.

OK, then. I'll go and get the whelping box.

- The what?
- That's what we used on me ma.

Yeah. She screamed like an animal.

It's only fair really, cos she was an animal.

- Who was?
- Me ma. Our pitbull.

I named her after the ambulance siren.
Me-ma me-ma!

Oh, she loved an ambulance.

She'd wag her little tail
every time she savaged a child.

So, you only know...

Ow! ..dog births?!

- Yeah.
- Ah, that one really hurt.

Relax, it's all the same thing.
Now, I need you to pant with me.

(Panting)

Ow!

Eh?

Hey! Oh!

Oh! Uh! Ah!

Oh, wait. Wait.
Stay calm, I'm sure we didn't do anything.

Right, let's just examine the evidence.

Lambrini... candles...

your cock is still in me.

Now, this... This is awkward now.

- OK. Oh!
- Ooh!

How... how did this happen?!

I don't know. Let's just think, right? Erm...

You went home, and then you came back
and knocked on the door.

Yeah, I'd left my phone.

Erm... then, er, I gave you your phone

and you asked for a glass of water.

Yeah, then you walked me to the door,
then you opened the door.

Erm, then...

then I put my cock in you. Oh!

Ohhh!

- Donna's back any minute, you should go.
- Oh, no!

- Hang on.
- Oh God, oh God, oh God!

- Oh, no!
- (Knocking)

Erm... Hi Donna!

You're back! I was just having a...

Gaz, I've got something to say
and I need you to listen.

For a really long time now,

even before Jonny died,
I've been looking for something,

and it's taken me losing this place
to realise what it was.

I've been looking for a home, Gaz,

and I've found it.

It's here.

What, next to the bookcase?

No, Gaz, with you.

You're home.

- You're my home.
- Oh, Janet.

I need you, Gaz Wilkinson.
I think I probably always will.

Hey, come here.

Eh? I'm not going anywhere.

Right? I'll always be here for you.

- Do you swear?
- Yeah.

For you and Corinthian.

I love you.

Oh!

I got the job.

Get your bowler hat on, Gaz,
we're moving to London.

(Screams) London!

We can't move you.
You're gonna have to have the baby here.

I'm still going to London.
Just wanted to say goodbye properly.

With me knob.

(Squeals)

What I have to tell you is both grave
and sinister and may ruin your life forever.

She's perfect!

She's beautiful!

♪ Hey, Mr Bartender, give me a drink

♪ I want a cold wet glass with bubbles in it

♪ That doesn't mean I can't handle
anything stronger, now

♪ Just think I'll wait a while

♪ I'll have a pint of lager, please

♪ And a pack of flakeys ♪