[OPENING SCENE: The four boys are walking up to a two-level house, very similar to their old one, the house that was demolished at the end of the previous / pilot episode. Neil is carrying a suitcase and a guitar, Vyvyan has a duffel bag and skeleton, Rick has several bags, and Mike has his suitcase.]
Rick: Oh, bloody heck! Is this the new house?
Neil: Well, I think it's very beautiful, Rick.
Mike: No, it just makes a change from the old one.
Vyvyan: Yeah, it hasn't been razed to the ground yet.
Rick: Well, I think it looks like a giant lavatory.
Neil: Come on, it's not bad. [Opens the gate, climbs the stairs to the front door] Look, it's got a letter box. That's going to be really useful.
Rick: For what?
Neil: For looking out of it when people knock.
Mike: It's nice to have a front door!
Vyvyan: We had a front door at the last house.
Rick: Yes, Vyvyan, but it was nailed to the ceiling in the living room!
Mike: Rick, it had to be done.
Vyvyan: Yeah! I had to! I was drunk!
Mike: Just give me the key. [Rick removes a key on a string around his neck, hands it to Mike]
Watch this very closely. [Mike opens the door with the key]
You see, I used to be a cat burglar.
Neil: Oh, really?
Mike: Yeah! I got a Swiss bank account with 2000 bloody cats in it! Come on. [ Leads them all in ]/TD>
Neil: All right.
[Next to the door is a large sunflower and a statue of "The Thinker"]
THINKER: More bloody students?!
SUNFLOWER: Oh, shut up. And get some clothes on!
[Rick and Vyvyan run upstairs. Neil kicks a knee-high pile of envelopes in the front hall.]
NEIL: Wow! Look at all these letters! I thought Mr. Balowski said the last lot only moved out yesterday.
MIKE: They did, but they were illiterate.
NEIL: But they were philosophy students.
MIKE: So? Anyway, they're probably bills.
Neil: Who's Bill?
[Rick is attempting to keep Vyvyan out of his room]
RICK: Vyvyan, this is my bedroom!
VYVYAN: Oh yeah?
RICK: Yes, I was here first!
VYVYAN: [pushes his way in] You got any witnesses?!
RICK: Look, I don't need witnesses! Just get off my property!
VYVYAN: No.
RICK: [pinches Vyvyan's arm, trying to hurt him] Get out!
[Vyvyan, not flinching from Rick's pinch, punches Rick and knocks him down. Rick throws a pipe at Vyvyan, but misses and it flies out the window.]
VYVYAN: [dumping out his clothes bag] Look, it must be my bedroom. All my clothes are here.
RICK: [throws Vyvyan's clothes out the window] No, they're not, Vyvyan. [Vyvyan strikes a match, sets fire to the bed] All right then, have the bedroom.
VYVYAN: I don't want it. It's not mine.
RICK: Yes, it is!
VYVYAN: No, it isn't.
RICK: You said it was yours just now!
VYVYAN: [pause] So did you!
RICK: No, I didn't!
VYVYAN: Did!
RICK: Didn't!
VYVYAN: Did!
RICK: Didn't!!
VYVYAN: DID!!
RICK: DIDN'T DIDN'T DIDN'T DIDN'T!!!
VYVYAN & RICK: [together, run out the door to the stairwell, calling] Neil, your bedroom's on fire!
NEIL: [comes out of a bedroom across the hall] But this is my bedroom.
[Looks in the argued-over room]
Oh, no.
[Goes into the burning room, as Vyvyan enters the room Neil left.]
RICK: [chases Vyvyan] This is my bedroom!
VYVYAN: It's mine!
[Mike opens the door to his room]
MIKE: [to camera] Caption?
[The screen caption reads "MIKE GOES INTO HIS NEW BEDROOM"]
Thank you.
[Walks in, puts his suitcase on the bed. Opens the suitcase and takes out an inflatable female s** doll. Takes out some lingerie and scatters it around the room, hanging a bra on the doorknob. Takes out a tape player, and plays a tape of a femal e voice in the throes of pa**ion.]
TAPE: Oh, Mike! Please! Don't stop! Oh! Oh!! Oh, no!! Yes!! Yes!!!
[Mike starts whistling "That'll Be the Day". He looks over the corner and sees Buddy Holly hanging upside down by a parachute, covered in spider webs.]
BUDDY: Thank you.
MIKE: [stares, amazed] You're Buddy Holly!!
BUDDY: That's right! You know something, I just love your English beetles. Mind you, after 20 years of the s**ers, I ain't got much choice!
MIKE: I thought you were dead!
BUDDY: Lots of folks did, but it ain't harmed my career any. [laughs]
MIKE: No. [pause] You got any new material? [grabs tape recorder]
BUDDY: Well, it just so happens I've been writing a song up here. It's a song concerning my diet. It's called "Kinky Daddy Longlegs". You wanna hear it?
MIKE: Oh, yeah!
BUDDY: Right now?
MIKE: Well, there's no point in hanging around.
BUDDY: [starts playing guitar and singing]
Saturday night
Hanging round for a bite
Find a real cutie with the dust mite blues
Hangnail, high tail, fairy tale, very well
Finding anything that I can chew
MIKE: [punching numbers into a calculator] Records and tapes. Videos. Overseas sales. Cable TV. 60 percent McCartney, 40 percent me. It's got to be 25 million at least.
BUDDY: Coo coo daddy longlegs
Rough it up, rough it up, oh oh oh oh
Rain fly pie with a mosquito side salad
23 years on a meat-free diet
Beetles, crickets, gonna get you sick
It's here's a little s**er and you ought to try it
Coo coo, daddy longlegs
Hope it makes more money than "Peggy Sue"-ue
Ha ha ha ha ooooh
[Buddy's parachute lets loose and he crashes down, his head breaking through the floor. Mike sighs, puts down the calculator, goes over to Buddy]
MIKE: Well, I'll probably get a few quid on the guitar. [The screen tumbles and fades out.]
[SCENE: Neil is putting a pot of water on the stove in the kitchen.]
NEIL: Lucky the guys told me my bedroom was on fire. I might have gone to sleep and burned to d**h. Not that I ever sleep much anyway, cause I have to spend most of my time in the kitchen, having a really bad time.
[Waves his arms]
Hello, kitchen. Hello, hello, my name's Neil, but don't bother remembering, cause I'll probably soon be dead anyway.
[Opens cupboard, and a stack of pots and pans comes crashing down at his feet]
Great.
[Reaches up, removes a teapot]
The only thing left in the cupboard was a teapot. And that's filthy. Thanks, Mr. Balowski! Thanks for giving us the oldest, dirtiest teapot in the world!
[Starts rubbing it with his sleeve. Smoke comes out and a genie appears.]
Oh, wow! Just look at this mess. You know, I wish, just once, just once this wouldn't happen to me.
[The genie points his finger, and the pots fly back up into the cupboard.]
Oh, yeah. Very Zen.
VYVYAN: [walks in] Hi, Neil. [looks at the kitchen] Is this some sort of sick joke? Why isn't supper ready? You haven't done a bloody thing, have you, Neil?!
NEIL: Well, I'm sorry, Vyvyan, but considering none of you helped me unpack or do anything at all, and considering I'm not feeling very well today, actually, no, it's not ready! I don't have six pairs of hands, you know. I wish I had, but I have n't!
[In a puff of smoke, Neil has arms covering his torso.]
Oh, wow! I have!
[The genie goes back in the pot.]
Yes! Yeah, yeah, of course! Yeah, yeah! I've got six pairs of hands, Vyv! It's amazing!
VYVYAN: [looking in the cupboard, not seeing Neil's transformation] Neil, where's that emergency set of spaghetti hoops we brought?
NEIL: [runs upstairs] Rick, Rick, you're going to freak, man!
VYVYAN: You haven't made the tea, Neil! Neil?! Brilliant. Brilliant. I suppose I even have to make my own bloody tea!
NEIL: [on stair landing] Rick, come and look. Rick? Come and take a look at this, Rick! You're going to freak!
[Vyvyan pours hot water in the teapot. The genie screams in pain, and Neil's arms disappear without him noticing.]
I've got six pairs of hands! I'm Vishnu!
RICK: [sees the now-normal Neil] Dear oh dear, you'd do anything to try and impress me, wouldn't you, Neil? [Goes downstairs, leaving Neil to figure where his arms went] Vyvyan?! [Sees Vyvyan by the pot] There you are, Vy vyan. You think I could have a word with you?
VYVYAN: No.
RICK: Just a little piece of information, really. Why did you throw the toilet out the window?
VYVYAN: To lower the rent.
RICK: Oh, yes, of course. How stupid of me. Just one other thing. What are you talking about?
VYVYAN: Well, now we can go to the Rent Tribunal. You don't have to pay as much for a house with an outside lavie.
RICK: Really? Well, I don't believe you! I think you did it on purpose because you know I have a runny bottom!
VYVYAN: Look, is Neil going to make the supper or not?
RICK: Well, I think you'd better ask him that, haven't you? I'm a bit more interested in my bottom at the moment!
VYVYAN: [goes to the staircase] Neil, let's not beat around the bush. Are you going to make supper, or am I going to kick your teeth in?!
[Mike is carrying a large bag, with feet coming out of the top. Neil is following him downstairs]
NEIL: Where are you going with that sack, Mike?
MIKE: Nowhere.
NEIL: Is that a bag of dirty washing?
MIKE: No.
NEIL: I thought we were supposed to take everyone's washing when we go to the laundrette! What about the People's Charter we drew up? [Opens a small book] Right, laundry. [Reads aloud] None of the guys, right, no matter what, li ke, not even if they've been eaten by wild dogs...
VYVYAN: Hey, that's my clause!
NEIL: ...shall go to the laundrette without first collecting all the other guys dirty gear.
MIKE: Yeah? Clause 83.
NEIL: [reads on] Except for Mike. Oh. [closes book] Right. Sorry.
MIKE: That's all right. Anyway, I'm not going to the laundrette. I'm going to the cellar. I've got a stiff. Know what I mean? [starts off for the cellar]
RICK: [pause, uncomfortable with the double entendre] Oh, well, that's fair enough, I suppose.
[waits until Mike is gone] He gets worse by the minute!
NEIL: Well, at least he's not doing the washing.
VYVYAN: All right, Neil. I'm going to give you three seconds to make supper, starting now! [Neil runs into the kitchen, grabbing pots and cooking utensils] One! Two!
NEIL: What do you fancy, Vyv?
VYVYAN: Three! Where's my supper?! [looks in a pot]
NEIL: Well, it's not quite finished, actually.
[Vyvyan breaks a plate over Neil's head. Neil falls, sprawling on the floor.]
RICK: Oh, that's right, Neil, yeah! Lounge around! Have a good time, while we starve to d**h! Beatnik!
VYVYAN: And you've broken my favorite plate!
RICK: Well, I suppose we'll just have to cook our own supper.
[Lights a match to ignite the stove, only the stove explodes.]
[Two men with stubbly beards and rags for clothes are lying on a raft in the middle of the ocean. At the sound of the explosion, one jumps to a sitting position.]
MAN #1: What was that?!
MAN #2: What?
MAN #1: [pauses, laughs, lies down] Nothing. My mind's beginning to play tricks on me. I thought we were lying on a raft just now.
MAN #2: You should take it easy, you know. You must be working too hard.
[The ocean disappears, and the two men are lying on a mattress in a dingy room, lit by a single light bulb.]
Bloody hot, isn't it?
MAN #1: It is.
MAN #2: I should get a lower wattage bulb.
MAN #1: [sits up quickly] Help! We're sinking! We're sinking!
MAN #2: Relax. We're not sinking, we're not sinking. I'll get some fresh air in here.
[Opens a door to show them floating on the ocean. He breathes deeply.]
Ah, that's better. [Closes the door, pauses.] Uh...
MAN #1: What's the matter?
MAN #2: Nothing! Nothing. [pause] Can you swim at all?
MAN #1: What?
MAN #2: I was just wondering.
MAN #1: Wondering?
MAN #2: Yes, I was wondering if you might swim to the chemist and get me something for my hallucinations.
MAN #1: Have you had one too?!
MAN #2: Either that, or the whole town is flooded. [Sits down]
MAN #1: You're right. We've been working too hard. I haven't had a holiday for over a year now.
MAN #2: What about this?!
MAN #1: What? This?! A holiday?! Two weeks in a cellar under a light bulb?
MAN #2: It was all I could get.
MAN #1: All you could get?! Do me a favor.
MAN #2: What?
MAN #1: [begging] Check and see if that really was an hallucination out there!
[Man #2 opens the door, and Mike walks in with the bag.]
MAN #2: How did you get here?
MIKE: You'll have to ask my parents. They wouldn't tell me. Would you mind looking after my Buddy?
[Hands Man #2 the bag, looks at the camera.]
All right, so it was a bad joke. But then, d**h isn't funny.
[Rick, Neil, and Vyvyan are sitting in the living room. Rick and Neil have empty plates in front of them, while Vyvyan is still trying to eat.]
VYVYAN: This is revolting!
RICK: It's amazing what you can come up with with just flour and water.
VYVYAN: Yeah. Glue. [Holds his fork, the plate stuck to it. He drops the fork/plate.]
[All three boys stare at the telly, just a little white dot on the screen and a low pitched hum.]
RICK: What is that little white dot?
NEIL: It's a little white dot.
RICK: Oh, very clever.
NEIL: It must be a really old telly.
RICK: What, hippie?
NEIL: Look, there's a sign in that little white dot. It means something really heavy. It means, there's no more telly. Time to go to bed. [stands] I'm going upstairs now to finish painting my astrological star chart, all right? [lea ves]
RICK: [pause, calls to Neil] Do you really think that anyone has ever been the slightest bit interested in anything you say or do ever, Neil?! [sighs] God, fascist. [stands] Are you going to bed, Vyvyan?
VYVYAN: No. I'm going to watch the dot for a bit longer.
RICK: Wish we had a video. Then I could tape it and watch it in the morning. Oh, well. Nighty night.
[leaves]
TV ANNOUNCER: And don't forget to unplug your set.
VYVYAN: Why?
TV ANNOUNCER: Because it'll blow up, you silly boy.
VYVYAN: Great! [watches anxiously for a minute] It's never going to blow up. [Grabs an axe] I think I'll play "Murder in the Dark". [Turns off the light, crashes into the kitchen table]
[Mike hits a golf ball in the upstairs hallway. It flies out the window and into the toilet, just between Neil's legs.]
MIKE: I could have made a fortune if I'd turned pro, but to me, it's the sport that matters. [Calls to Neil] Can you throw my ball back, OK?
NEIL: Oh, OK.
[Rick runs in, catches the thrown object. It lands with a disgusting "splat".]
RICK: How's that? [Sees it's not the ball that has been thrown, wipes his hands, goes in the bathroom. He comes out angrily.] Who's been using my toothpaste?!
MIKE: Vyvyan was typing out an essay. He used it as Tippex.
RICK: ba*tard! [Goes back in the bathroom, returns] What're you doing standing outside my bedroom then, Mike?!
MIKE: There's only the floor to sit on, Rick.
RICK: Oh, ha ha, very funny. I suppose you think it's very clever to laugh with three million people on the dole!
MIKE: Yeah.
RICK: Well, could you just get out of the way, please? I want to get into my bedroom.
MIKE: Well, you're not exactly dressed for it.
RICK: What?
MIKE: Well, all right. All right. I won't stand on convention, he never stood on me. That'll be a fiver. For the room, not the game.
RICK: Five pounds to get in my own bedroom?! Hah! What have you done, turned it into a roller disco?
MIKE: Uncanny!
[Rick opens the door to find several people dancing around on roller skates as music blares and colored lights flash.]
RICK: Look, would you all mind just going, please?! I hate to be a party pooper, but I'd like to get undressed.
[One of the dancers is a large black man. He pokes Rick in the chest.]
DANCER: Look, man. Either strut your stuff, or bug off!
RICK: All right! This is it! Everybody listen to me!
[A bouncer, dressed in a tuxedo, comes over, picks Rick up with one hand, and carries him out.]
RICK: Watch it!
BOUNCER: [tips Rick over, drops him repeatedly on his head] Sorry, Guv'nor. Tit for tat, I love London Town. It was at Violet's funeral. But listen, Guv'nor. This little pervert was bothering a gentleman and the young ladies while they were shaking their booties to the ground. Know what I mean?
MIKE: Gentle as you can, Sully. I don't want the others getting upset.
RICK: Mike, you ba*tard!
NEIL: [coming upstairs, calls down] ...and next time, throw that paper out as well, Vvvyan!
RICK: Neil, help!
NEIL: No, I can't, Rick. Because now is the time for me to finish painting my astrological chart. [goes in his room]
MIKE: That'll do. [the Bouncer stops dropping Rick, sets him on the floor]
Sorry, Rick. But if I was to make any exceptions, who would respect me then? Would you?
RICK: Yes, well, I'm going to call the pigs, actually. Let's see what the pigs have to say!
MIKE: Oh, wise up, Rick. Look, this world is like a burnt steak. Small, tough, and the chips are always stacked against you.
RICK: You're always so pleased with yourself, aren't you, Mike?! Always think you're so bloody clever!
MIKE: Yeah. I've arranged for you to share Neil's bedroom.
RICK: What?! I'm not sharing a bedroom with that rubber johnny!
[Opens Neil's door and bumps the ladder. Neil falls off the ladder, where he was painting the chart on the wall.]
All right, Neil, shut up! Before you say anything, I've just tossed a coin for who gets the bed, and you lost!
[Takes off his pants]
It's completely fair, and if you don't believe me, ask Mike, so shut up!
NEIL: Oh, uh, OK, Rick.
RICK: What?
NEIL: What?
RICK: What'd you just say?
NEIL: What?
RICK: You just called me a ba*tard, didn't you?! You better not, Neil!
[Throws off his jacket]
Cause let me tell you. Me, Mike, and Vyvyan are getting pretty sick of you.
[Sits on Neil's bed which has a lump under the sheets]
Why are the sheets all sticky?!
NEIL: Oh, it's probably just the red paint.
[Rick pulls back the sheets to reveal a deer head. Rick screams. Mike comes in.]
MIKE: OK, it may seem a little heavy-handed for one pound 50, but when I lend somebody money, I expect to get it back. You know what I mean?
VYVYAN: [runs in] Mike, I've struck oil! We're going to be rich! I found oil in the cellar!
RICK: Vyvyan, for heaven's sake...
MIKE: Easy, easy, easy. Spill the beans, and I don't mean in the tub.
VYVYAN: It's very simple. I was playing "Murder in the Dark" in the cellar, and I was getting really bored. So I thought, I know, I'll crack the floor with my head. And when I did, this huge spill of oil came out!
MIKE: Now, listen, this could be very big, I mean family-size. Tonight, we sleep on it.
VYVYAN: What, all four on one spurt?
MIKE: Son of a gun, we're going to be rich! House meeting, tomorrow morning, nine o'clock, in the broom cupboard. And, Neil? I want that one pound 50 by Wednesday, or another moose dies.
[Vyvyan and Mike leave. The screen tumbles and fades out.]
[SCENE: The screen is filled with a message like in silent movies. It reads "Tomorrow Morning, 9 O'Clock, in the Broom Cupboard. An Everyday Story of Life Below Stairs." A sponge, broom, and spray can are lying on a shelf.]
SPONGE: Ah, dear me, ma'am. Our whole job is to serve the young gentlemen and look out for them the best we can. But, I'm sure young master Neil do treat us very rough sometimes.
BROOM: And so he should, young Lucy. For we love it. The complete negation of our personality, the mind-numbing servility, the 18-hour work day. And we expect no reward but a staircase over our heads.
SPRAY CAN: Oh, dear, yes, Lucy. We love it. The personal abuse is our lot, and the further back you go, the better it gets. [Footsteps sound]
BROOM: Oh, no! The young lads are coming down to beat us. Everyone on your best behavior, or you'll have me to answer to.
[Rick and Neil come in the small broom cupboard. Rick sighs, checks his watch]
RICK: Does seem strange that Mike should call a house meeting in here. I mean, I've never been in here before.
NEIL: that's because this is where we keep the cleaning stuff, Rick.
RICK: No, it's not, Neil! It's because we only moved in here yesterday.
NEIL: Actually, I'm surprised that anyone except me knows this place even exists. Cause to you lot, I have as much importance as a, as a, uh....
RICK: Hippie.
NEIL: ...hippie. It happens to be me that does all the cleaning around here.
RICK: Moan moan moan. Boring. Just because you do a little bit of housework.
NEIL: What? A little bit?! All right. [knocks on the wall] House meeting, OK?
RICK: This is a house meeting, Neil.
NEIL: That's what I'm saying. Is it? Well, where's Mike and Vyvyan then?
RICK: They're late. We're only here on time because you kept me up all night, pacing around up and down and ringing bells.
NEIL: Listen, man. Sleep gives you cancer. Everyone knows that.
RICK: Listen, Neil. Do you know the difference between you and some number two's?! [pause] Nothing! [Neil sniffs and tears well up in his eyes] Stop crying, Neil.
NEIL: I'm not crying, Rick. I got some dust in my sinuses.
RICK: Well, that'll teach you to stop skiving on the cleaning then, won't it?
NEIL: Oh, no.
RICK: What?
NEIL: I'm going to sneeze, Rick.
RICK: Neil, no!
NEIL: I am. I am. I always do.
RICK: No!!
[Neil sneezes, and the door blows off in a big messy explosion. Rick and Neil stagger out.]
NEIL: Sorry about that. It always happens.
[Vyvyan comes downstairs, wearing a crash helmet and carrying a cricket bat.]
VYVYAN: Here they are, El Presidente!
[Pushes Rick and Neil into the living room, throws them down.]
Starting an insurgence! I'll teach you to try and a**a**inate the President!
[Mike comes in, wearing a black leather trenchcoat and hat, chewing on a big cigar. Vyvyan salutes.]
El Presidente!
RICK: What the ruddy heck is going on?
VYVYAN: Shut your face, traitor! [Hits Rick in the crotch with the bat]
RICK: Hah! Missed both my legs! [grimaces]
VYVYAN: Shut up! [Hits Rick in the head]
NEIL: [picks a piece of gum off the floor] Who's been sticking gum on the floor?
[puts it in his mouth]
MIKE: Silence.
VYVYAN: Silence!
MIKE: Gentlemen, good morning.
VYVYAN: Good morning.
MIKE: I'm glad you could all make it, cause if you hadn't, you wouldn't be here.
VYVYAN: Wouldn't be here.
MIKE: Now, what were you two doing in the broom cupboard?
VYVYAN: Good question.
NEIL: Uh...oh, yeah, we were having a house meeting, yeah.
MIKE: Impossible.
VYVYAN: Impossible! [Hits Neil with the bat]
MIKE: Because Colonel Vyvyan and myself held a house meeting a quarter of an hour ago upstairs. And, I'm afraid to say, under the new regulations, non-attendance at house meetings is punishable by d**h.
VYVYAN: Ha ha ha. d**h.
MIKE: I would like to overlook this, but unfortunately, you two seem reponsible for certain other criminal activity.
VYVYAN: Ha ha!
MIKE: Namely, loitering with intent...
VYVYAN: Good one.
MIKE: ...conspiring in the broom cupboard...
VYVYAN: Brilliant.
MIKE: ...and damaging police equipment. [Vyvyan shows Neil the chip in his cricket bat.] However, I, El Presidente...
VYVYAN: [salutes] Viva El Presidente!
MIKE: ...I am prepared to give free amnesty if you behave like good citizens and dig up all the oil.
RICK: You fascist junta! [Vyvyan smacks him again]
MIKE: Look, you do want to be incredibly rich, don't you?
NEIL: Uh....
RICK: Yes! But why can't you go down to the cellar and dig as well?
MIKE: Oh, that is fab, Rick! That is fab!
VYVYAN: Fab!
MIKE: So when I shuffle off to see the Saudis, what do I say? Hello, King Fahd. I've got some oil for you. In fact, I've got a sample of it all over the front of my shirt! You wouldn't happen to have a tin of Swarfega lying around the palace, your Royal Mightiness?! Wise up, Rick. He'd chop my hands off.
NEIL: Shhhh! Don't say that about the Arabs, Mike. You'll get us all into terrible trouble.
[In a thought bubble above Neil's head, two Arabs are talking.]
ARAB #1: Your magnificence! The British Foreign Secretary has arrived to apologize for recent press criticism, in which they alleged mandatory cruelty.
ARAB #2: I will see him now.
ARAB #1: Which bit of him would you like to see first?
[The screen tumbles and fades out.]
[SCENE: In the cellar, Neil is hard at work with a pick-axe, while Rick is just poking at the floor, hardly moving at all. Vyvyan is standing over them.]
VYVYAN: Get on with it, Rick, you big poof!
[Kicks Rick aside and jumps in the hole, starting to pound with his head. Vyvyan and Neil alternate for a bit, then Vyvyan's head gets stuck in the hole, and Neil drives down with the pick-axe.]
NEIL: Oh, sorry, Vyv.
VYVYAN: [stands, with the axe stuck through his head] That's OK, Neil. It was bound to happen sooner or later. [Collapses]
RICK: [leans over] You all right, Vyvyan? Vyvyan?! [pause] Great! This is it! I've been waiting two hours for this. It's a revolution!
NEIL: What do you mean, revolution?
RICK: Blood runs! Flags wave! Come on, everybody, throw down your tools and knock down the barricade. Come on, run into the Winter Palace. Run into the Winter Palace and stand on tables, waving bits of paper at each other! Yes! Yes!! Hello, are you the Czar?!
[jumps up and down, excited]
Yes, I am, actually. [points a finger] Bam bam! Tough luck, fascist!!
[Neil takes out a tissue and starts waving it around]
That's what happens to people who aren't working cla**! Yes, Neil. Listen. I've got everything ready. In ten minutes time there's going to be a ma**ive rock and roll benefit in the drawing room. And right at the climax, the oppressed working cla**es of this house, that's you, mainly...
NEIL: Right.
RICK: ...will rise up and seize control of the state! Brilliant! Revolution!
NEIL: Revolution.
RICK: Watch out, Norman Tebbit!
[The screen tumbles and fades out. It fades back in to find Rick and Vyvyan sprawled in the basement.]
RICK: God! I wish they wouldn't keep doing that!
NEIL: It's the pa**age of time, Rick.
[Vyvyan stands up, throws up, falls down]
[SCENE: Mike comes into the living room, Buddy Holly's guitar flung over his shoulder, to find a band is already set up there.]
MIKE: Who're you? I'm coming in here to watch Postman Pat.
ALEXEI: [the band leader] This is the band Radical Posture, and my name is Alexei Yuri Gagarin Siege of Stalingrad Glorious Five-Year Plan Sputnik Pravda Moscow Dynamo Back Four Balowski. Me Dad was a bit of a Communist, know what I mean?
MIKE: You know you're the spitting image of our landlord, Jerzei?
ALEXEI: Yeah, he's my uncle, actually, you know.
MIKE: It's incredible! You're as alike as two peas.
[Two peas are lying on a plate]
PEA #1: I hate that expression. It's so patronizing.
PEA #2: Yes, it's just the sort of vegetablist comment you'd expect from an oppressive dictator.
RICK: [walks in, sees the band but not Mike] Well, this is it! The ma**ive rock and roll benefit for the oppressed workers of the hou...[turns to see Mike] Hi, Mike! What're you doing here?
MIKE: Never mind what I'm doing here, who are they?
RICK: [feigns surprise] Blimey! Search me. Perhaps they're friends of somebody's, just popped in to play a, I don't know, play a rehearsal or something. Would you like to go upstairs and lie down in your room?
MIKE: I think I'd better. [leaves]
RICK: Great! Hi, Sputnik! [Waves to Alexei] Or should I call you "comrade"? You know the plan, don't you? Right, at the peak of the gig, you incite the ma**es to rise, and we burn the Reichstag! Well, we burn Mike's room, anyway. And then, hey, presto, revolution!
ALEXEI: Stuff the revolution. Where's my 200 quid?
RICK: [pulls a chain of tickets out of his pocket] Oh, I'd better go sell some tickets, haven't I?
[Neil comes in, sits down on the floor. Rick stands at the door, laughs, but no one is there.]
Tickets!! Anybody! Probably stuck in a queue or something. [laughs, comes back] Uh, Neil, did you actually pay to get in?
NEIL: No, I'm the oppressed workers of the house, Rick.
RICK: Yes, but this is a benefit gig, you know. And the tickets are 200 pounds each.
NEIL: 200 pounds? That's nearly a term's grant, man!
RICK: Look, Neil, this benefit is for you! This is in aid of you, to help you! And you won't even pay for it. God, how self-centered can you get! Come on, 200 pounds.
NEIL: I've only got 50p. [Hands Rick money]
RICK: [gives Neil a ticket] That'll have to do.
NEIL: Well, he'd better be good, this Norman Tebbit.
ALEXEI: [turns mike on] Whoooo, yeah! It's really great to be here at this benefit, actually. Whoooo, yeah! I'm feeling kinda whoooo, yeah!
[pauses, looks at Neil]
Whoooo, yeah! This is really funky, it's kinda like one big empty room, yeah! We're going to do a number now that was a song in the charts recently about racial harmony. About black and white people living together side by side in perfect racial harmo ny together on pianos! It might be a bit stupid, like, you know what I mean, but I know pianos aren't gonna solve nothing, you know what I mean? There's one thing that unites us, one thing that we all have in common, what is it? What is that one thing?
[The band starts playing, the lights dim, and Alexei starts singing and dancing wildly.]
It's not cla** or ideology,
Color, creed, or roots
The only thing that unites us
Is Dr. Marten's boots
Dr. Marten's boots of the world
So that everybody can be free
They're cla**less, matchless, ageless and waterproof
And retail for only 19 pounds and 99p
What should everyone be wearing?
Those boots with the air-flow soles
And your boots will have a meeting
And your boots will take control
Thanks to Dr. Marten everyone will have warm feet
Thanks to Dr. Marten they'll be dancing in the street
No. Don't You Want Me.
OK, Boots. Do your stuff!
Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's boots
Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's boots
Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's boots!
RICK: Boring! Don't you even know who's the enemy? What happened to the revolution?! God, you'd think "Devil Woman" had never been written!
MIKE: [walks in] What're you two doing here? You should be down in the cellar digging for oil! I hope you realize that all this loafing around has cost us one day of being incredibly rich!
RICK: [checks his watch] What?! Goodness, is that the time?
VYVYAN: [still trying to get up, in the cellar] By the way, it was a complete lie about the oil.