The M'lud Life : Episode Five
Quantum
Peep
Introduction.
[The Narrator
stands back to the camera in the Judge's Lounge, wearing sumo gear with one
hand stuffed in there. He turns around, points to the camera and bellows]
Narrator
Previously, on the M'Lud Life!
[A painting of the
judges climbing atop a mountain of corpses, fighting fantasy]
Narrator
Having defeated the Christians without actually trying, our judges now face fresh crises. The Enigmatic Mystery Butcher holds Mary hostage, pending Killian and Hilary's return with Lord Jools, who has not paid his rent.
[Mary is joining
paper clips together, hiding from the Butcher. He is dusting in a pinny]
Secretly, Mary has been linking paper clips together with a view to abseiling down the outside of the Opera House in which we all live, in our hearts.
[Killian and Hilary
by a swimming pool, in bras]
Killian and Hilary have been sent to look for Lord Jools, but without any real leads they have spent the time putting their faces about in fashionable brassieres, I mean brasseries.
[Killian and Hilary
sit outside a cafe in black polo necks, cigarettes and poetry books]
[Lord Jools'
picture on a milk carton]
Which only leaves Lord Jools. Where is he? What is he like? Would you take him home? Well, perhaps today you’ll find out. Perhaps you won’t. I’m not telling.
Int. Day. The Lounge.
Butcher
[rattling some dice] Well, while I'm holding you captive, we might as well have some fun. Do you what Cabinets and Credenzas is?
Mary
I have no idea what a credenza is. Cabinet, yes. Credenzas, though, no. [pause] So, in partial answer to your question, no. And yes. Both.
Butcher
It's a role playing game.
Mary
Good grief, do people still play those?
Butcher
Yes, we still exist. [Covering up a Marillion T-Shirt] And some of us don't even like Marillion.
Mary
Well... what is this game?
Butcher
Advanced Cabinets and Credenzas is the game for interior designers. They’ve made role-playing games relevant to the real world, so that people stop laughing at us for being anaemic escapists. There's Scalpels and Scapulas for doctors, Uzis and Floozies for ... [waits for Mary to guess]
Mary
Vengeful hookers..?
Butcher
Right! Then, there Pimps and Pushers for ...
Mary
all black people without exception...
Butcher
And of course, Little and Large ...
Mary
Yes, yes, for comedians, I think I get the idea.
Butcher
Little and Large is not a comical game, Miss Highpole. Few people make it through.
Mary
[unimpressed] Ah.
Butcher
Let us begin. You are Giles. Your career in bricklaying was cruelly ended when you bricked your own arm into a wall. You are peach / cerise colour blind. I am Raphael, or Raffy. My army career was cut short when I tripped over a paving stone and punched a visiting monarch. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but he was well versed in the arts of voodoo…..
[The scene in
London, with Raffy tripping up and punching a big tribal geezer, bones and
everything. He says “Ooloo Boogoo” or something, and shakes his pole. Back to
the lounge.]
Butcher
And I’ve had pig’s hooves ever since. [he shows them to Mary, who looks oddly excited]
Mary
Right… pig’s hooves. Shall we start?
Butcher
[becoming the role] We shall indeed, Ms Highpole. We've got a kitchen to drag screaming backwards through a hedge into 1998!
Mary
[charmed] You called me Ms.
Butcher
And let’s see - if Lord Jools does not return with his rent within half and hour, you are mine, and I’ll have to eat you.
Mary
Oh, tits.
Butcher
[evilly] A ha ha ha!
[Mary gets out her
paper clip chain again]
Ext. day. High Street.
[Jools is walking slowly,
taking in the surroundings. The world is strangely full of misery today. A child's balloon flies out of its hand, the
child cries. A woman kneels, holding a limp child and reaching out to heaven,
silently screaming. An old woman smiles over a daisy chain, and gets slapped by
another old woman, who takes the chain and rips it up. Jools watches and shakes
his head. A sign in a window catches his eye. "Escape to the Unexplained.
Be Your Own God. Eight Quid." Jools enters. The doorbell whispers creepily
à la Vinny Price.]
Doorbell
[overlapping, seductive mystery voices] Please leave your preconceptions of reality outside. That'll be eight quid. Please pay the miniature octopus. For your intriguement, the octopus will be dancing the Monster Mash to silent music. [Sudden disclaimer in normal voice] The miniature octopus does not give change.
[a six inch octopus
hovers along. Jools tucks a tenner into its brazier. It scuttles away]
PA
Welcome to a surprising world of bewonderment and fascination. Please make your way into the basement. The Master will attend to you... imminently.
[A steaming
trapdoor raises. Jools ambles downstairs]
EXT. DAY. Outside a Café.
[they are both
reading poetry books, being the bohemian types]
Hilary
Do you actually like poetry, Killian?
Killian
No.
Hilary
Why not?
Killian
Well, listen to this one. It's called "Judith and her Krantz" [he reads]
Sputter go my arse
cheeks,
As I spurt a moisten
rasp,
And all that stops
the solids,
Is a timely buttock
clasp.
Hilary
Oh, I don't know. At least that one rhymes. Not like these haikus. "Tenderly holding in, releasing only gas and no shit, thank God"
Killian
Haiku? Bollocks, more like.
Hilary
You've got a way with words.
Killian
[thinking] Yes, like a successful dictionary thief.
Hilary
Was that a joke?
Killian
It might have been.
Hilary
Was it the kind of joke that I should laugh at?
Killian
[narked] That would kind of make me feel better about the whole thing, yes.
Hilary
[giggles] Ha ha, whee! Oh, Killian. All this banter and chaff reminds me of the day that we first met, in Paris. Do you remember?
Killian
Banter and chaff? Are you speaking in Middle English again?
Hilary
Yes. Sorry.
Killian
Well, stop it. It’s just showing off.
Hilary
OK.
Killian
Good.
Hilary
[whispering naughtily after a pause] Banter and chaff.
Killian
What did you say? Did you just say banter and chaff?
Hilary
Hey, that's not fair. How come you can say it if I can't?
Killian
Right, shut up completely now for two minutes, or I’ll slap you.
Hilary
Bu... [he shuts up as Killian raises his hand]
INT. DARKNESS. Underground Corridor.
[Lord Jools walks
through a corridor. There are doors on either side. A paper cup is lowered on a
piece of string. Jools puts it to his ear. Another voice speaks]
Voice
Voices. Without them, we would surely go mad, trapped in our own heads with our own thoughts, and having to use our eyebrows to express love, hate, anger and mild sleepiness. But do you ever really listen? This is what you'd hear.
[The cup raises. A
glass flies horizontally along the corridor and into Jool's hand. He ambles to
a door and listens with the glass - two very well-spoken voices]
Betsy
I can grant you three wishes.
Jack
I would like a stout tennis racket, a sensible pantaloon, and a lady friend who would spend time with me in the Gazebo.
Betsy
Did I say three wishes? Sorry, I should have said fishes. I’m a fish genie.
Jack
In that case, hake, bream and sole.
Betsy
Oh, see now. That one looks like you!
Jack
You're looking at me.
Betsy
So I am. Silly genie!
[Jools puts his eye
to a peephole - a lone man talks generally to a kitchen]
Jack
Why, you're nothing but a stupid kitchen. I don't know why I even bother talking to you.
[Jools withdraws,
and yawns]
Voice
[narked] Unimpressed? Perhaps you should enter the Lobby of Remembrance.
[A plastic E=mc²
bobs past, on visible strings]
Voice
[masturbatorily to self] It is there we keep our rarest wonder, oh yes, yes. Yes!
INT. Day. The Lounge.
Butcher
[holding up a pack of cards] Do you want to play Top Trumps?
Mary
No, thanks.
Butcher
[offering some dice] Craps?
Mary
No, I’m fine, thanks.
Butcher
[holding up a bog roll] How about “Great Big Shits”?
Mary
Mmmm…. No. I’ll pass.
Butcher
Oh. Well, in that case, I'm going to cover my eyes for a while. I want you to promise that you won't try to escape.
Mary
I promise.
Butcher
Very well.
[he puts padded
sleeping glasses over his face. They have Elton John style glasses drawn onto
them. Mary looks around, and then gets the paper clip chain out again. It is
about 20 paper clips long. She goes to the window and tosses it out. She climbs
down, but when she reaches the bottom, she is about six inches short. She
dangles, helplessly]
Mary
Help! Oh, help! I'm being held captive by an evil madman!
Passerby
[old woman looks around, not knowing what to do] Oh, dearie me...
[zoom up the chain,
one of the clips is starting to uncurl]
[The Mystery
Butcher whistles to himself]
Mary
Help! Oh, help! One of the clips is starting to uncurl!
Passerby
[young man] You're done for! You're done for!
[The Mystery Butcher
thinks, and we hear his thoughts]
Butcher
Interesting.... after thirty seconds with my hands over my eyes, I find my other senses becoming strangely keen.... I can smell the skirting boards! Wait... what's that sound....?
[Bionic man style
ear close-up - he hears Mary's cry]
Mary
Help! Oh, help! My escape bid has gone disastrously wrong!
[Mary is hauled
back up to the window by the Butcher. He drags her in]
Butcher
God knows, Mary, I tried to reach out for you. Couldn't you feel me reaching out for you?
Mary
[matter-of-fact] Most of the time, yes.
Butcher
Well, Ms Highpole. It's no more Mr. Nice Guy being nice to you!
Audience
To be nice to you... nice!
Butcher
Oh, give over.
EXT. DAY. Suburban Roadside.
[Killian and Hilary
stand at the bottom of a tree, looking up]
Killian
Is that Lord Jools up there?
Hilary
There's something up there, but I don't think it's a judge.
Killian
You're right. It's more like a cat.
Hilary
A cat! Oh, let's rescue it! Let's rescue a cat!
Killian
No. Emphatically no.
Hilary
Why not? Cat's are all strokey, and [small cute sound] mno, mmm, buh! Cats.
Killian
For one thing, I'm a dog man, and another thing, cat rescues always go amusingly awry at the expense of the less likeable character. Which is me.
Hilary
Well, yes, but that'll make you like your hero.
Killian
Tommy Cannon?
Hilary
Oh, yes. You'll be just like Tommy Cannon.
Killian
[determined] Right then.
[he draws a gun and
shoots the cat out of the tree - it lands on his feet]
Hilary
Nice one.
Killian
I don't get it. Nothing's gone wrong.
Hilary
Oh, no? The cat's last spasms have made it wee on your brand new shoes!
Killian
Great!
Hilary
[pulling imaginary braces] Rock on Tommy!
INT. DARKNESS. The Lobby of Rememberance.
[Jools ambles into
the lobby. It is a normal room, the centrepiece of which is an average looking
reclining armchair. Jools sits down. A painting slides aside, and a Dean
Stockwell-y man smokes a menthol cigarette and coughs. He has any northern
dialect.]
Master
Frig, these things are supposed to be as cool as a mountain stream. Look, it says on the side of the packet, “as cool as a mountain stream”. It’s like smoking minty crack. Mmm. Minty crack.
Jools
Hello.
Master
Welcome, welcome, and so forth. Do you mind if I come out of here? It's supposed to be mysterious, like, but me knackers are trapped and I can't get me hand down... there.
Jools
Certainly.
[a door opens and
the Master comes out of the wall, furiously scratching at his crotch]
Master
I could scratch me knackers for hours, but they start to bleed after a while. Boy, do they bleed! [Offering his other hand - it is declined] Suit yourself. [hand now deeply in pants] I’ll just get in there.... right. I'm The Master. Not the Dr Who one, don't make that mistake. I'm not evil or anything. Well, not on a cosmic level, although I have killed a man. It was an accident, but I wasn't that fond of him, so no regrets there.
Jools
Where am I?
Master
I'm glad you asked son, I'm glad you asked. [Punching then reading his gadget] You are in the Lobby of Remembrance. All time and life converges here, so it's only a sideways leap of faith to jump into your other selves. Although I'm not really sure how it all works. I just press these buttons. [He holds up the Ziggy machine out of "Quantum Leap"]
Jools
I see.
Master
I don't think you do. Here, using your third eye, the eye of time, you can stare into the very essence of yourself, as a composite of pastness.
Jools
Pasties. Right you are. [hopefully] Cornish?
Master
This has nothing to do with pasties, sir, Cornish or otherwise. I can see that you need the full works. I will set the settings to full setting. [to himself] The Emperor will be pleased.
[steam fills the
room, and a dreamy sequence begins]
INT. NIGHT. 1970s. Disco Inferno.
[A Jools in an Afro
wig stands against a bar, with a black man]
[Comments are
coupled with lewd gestures or smarmy winks]
Jools
Check out the ass on that bunny. That's an ass I could get into, if you know what I mean.
Dunston
What's the story, Jools?
Jools
I'm putting the touches on my new record, "Doctor, I've Danced Up A Lung"
[he shows an record
sleeve of a doctor in an afro wielding a scalpel]
Dunston
Sweet track, Jools. Real mover. [a woman walks past] Check out the baboombas on that slice of pussy. Those are two baboombas I could put my choc-a-block between. If you know what I mean.
Jools
Hey, here's my song! [another woman] Hey, there's a woman I'd like to penetrate with my penis, if you know what I mean. [pause] Sex is nice.
[his song starts up
- guitar waka-waka, typical disco fayre with the sound of a man coughing up a
lung over it - they move approvingly]
Dunston
You can really hear that guy hack.
INT. UNDERGROUND. The Lobby of Rememberance.
Jools
I was alive in the '70s. How could that be a past life?
Master
It's all kinda relative, isn't it. Just because you're you now, doesn't mean you were then. Or ever were. Besides, this machine's been going on the blink a bit.
Jools
This is rubbish.
INT. DAY. The Lounge.
[Mary is strapped
into a chair. The Mystery Butcher wields an egg-whisk style mechanical device]
Butcher
Do you know what this is?
Mary
[horror] Is it... it can’t be! [relief] Oh. it’s not. No, it’s not one of those. Phew!
Butcher
Not one of what?
Mary
Oh, nothing.
Butcher
You were relieved. This is the most terrifying machine in the world!
Mary
Oh, I’m sure, I’m sure, I’m just glad it’s not... you know.
Butcher
No, I frigging well don’t know. What could possibly be more soul-shakingly fearsome than this?
Mary
What is it, then?
Butcher
Well, I’m not so sure now. It’s a machine that sort of swaps your breasts over, so that you have a kind of anti-cleavage. The point where your breasts collide persistently chafes, you see. It’s quite, quite hideous for breasted humans like yourself.
Mary
Oh. I see.
Butcher
Well I must say you don’t seem unduly disturbed. Perhaps you would prefer a more rigorous torturing.
Mary
I wouldn’t dream of it. No, that device would be fine. [Genuinely defiantly] Do your worst, you beast!
Butcher
Friggery. [throws the machine down and pouts] I’m going to wash my hair. And no trying to escape. I mean it this time.
[time passes - The
Butcher comes out of the shower area with a towel wrapped around his head. Mary
is just about to jump out of the window on the Krypton Factor pulley - she is
wearing a Gladiator’s safety helmet and outfit.]
Butcher
Aha! You've done it this time!
EXT. DAY. Street.
[A confused
pensioner in an electric wheelchair. He is at the top of a hill. Hilary is
playing about, jumping up and down onto the kerb, not taking part.]
Killian
So, have you seen our friend, then?
Old Man
What did he look like?
Killian
I’m asking the questions, old man, so don’t get frisky.
Old Man
Well, I saw someone earlier today. That could have been him.
Killian
Could have been? That’s not nearly good enough, mister. You’re hiding something.
Old Man
What was his name again?
Killian
Do you want me to push your chair down this hill? Because you’re going the right bloody way about it. What do you know?
[Hilary becomes
aware of what is going on]
Hilary
What are you doing?
Old Man
I just came here to watch the sun go down before I die.
Killian
[contemptuously] Oh, listen to it.
Hilary
Does he know where Jools is?
Killian
He knows something.
Old Man
I know all the names of my grandchildren born before 1968.
Hilary
[intrigued] Go on then.
Old Man
Well, there was Wendy. She was the first, if you don't count the illegitimate ones, which we didn't in those days. I remember she was the first, because as I noted on the very day, I said to our Gladys, you'd better take down the Christmas tree, it's unlucky, and we've got our first coming, soon. Or was that our first rope of tinsel? Tinsel was rare in them days, the only tinsel we used as draught excluders, ‘cos they hadn’t invented those lovely stuffed snakes in my day.
Killian
Kill him. Kill him. He must be killed.
Hilary
Ssshh. He's talking about tinsel.
Killian
[outraged] Did you just shush me? You twat!
Hilary
[suddenly chaste] No, it was a sneeze. A-sshh. A-sshh.
Killian
[slaps Hilary quite hard] Well that was just in case you did.
Hilary
You jost knocked my jaw out.
Killian
Well.
Hilary
I'll only be able to talk to people on my left now.
END OF ACT ONE
MONSTERS IN YOUR HANDBAG III. Where Monsters Go To Die.
[A graveyard
landscape of handbags in the style of Nightmare Before Christmas, the bags
wobble slightly]
Narrator
The prairie dogs are gone, and there is nothing between you and the void. A stutter of wind belches past your face, and you catch the fungid gasp of a moribund creature. It lived to scare, it lived amongst the lipstick, and it dies with only one thought in its mind.
To leave the confines of the handbag and kick up some shit in a line dancing extravaganza to the sound of Billy Ray Cyrus!
[One of the bag
belches out a monster and falls over. "Achy Breaky Heart" fades in -
not the original, but a syncopated and warped version. The monsters are perhaps
Gilliam-esque animations. Anyway, they're comically scary in a manner beyond my
talent for description or drawing.]
Narrator
Dance, dance, wherever you may be!
[Another monster
erupts and lands and dances in formation with its friend. The music gets louder
and more chaotic. This happens twice more, then fade out without joke]
ACT TWO : CUM BUTTIES
INT. UNDERGROUND. The Lobby Of Rememberance.
[Fiddling with his
gadget, and with a cigar in his mouth, he looks concerned as Jools sits in the
chair, eyes wide open but unseeing.]
Master
Oh, pants. There's been a power surge. That could overload the monitoring circuitry. [A panel blows off the wall] Well. That's the monitoring circuitry all over the floor then. As I understand it, and I don't, this could lead to a catastrophic convergence. Of everything!
INT. DAY. THE PUB.
[It is the main
sales floor from “Are You Being Served?”. Jools is Mrs Slocombe. Inman and the
bird from Eastenders are also there. A robot stands in the middle of the
floor.]
Inman
So this robot is supposed to be replacing us all as the latest in shopkeeping technology?
Bird
I won’t stand for it.
Inman
You don’t stand for much, I’ve heard.
Jools
Look what I’ve got. It’s a machine that gives you an erection.
Bird
What, like a jazz mag?
Jools
Better. You put it on your penis and it sort of sucks up the blood and gives you the horn.
Bird
But you haven’t got a penis, Mrs Slocombe.
Jools
[confused] Haven’t I?
Bird
No, you’ve got a cat. A lovely pussy.
[canned laughter]
Jools
Pussy?
[canned laughter]
Inman
So technically, that could be used to give a dead man an erection.
[Fluidly changing
scenes, Jools now sits in a pub with Inman and a nun - a whoosh sound separates
the scenes -the conversation is not stilted]
Jools
Not really, because the blood would have congealed in a dead body.
Inman
But if you were really quick....
Jools
Well, I suppose so.
[Inman picks up the
device and runs off]
[The nun looks at
Jools, belches like a foghorn, blows Jool’s purple wig off, then she gets up
and walks off - as she walks through the pub doors, the Quantum Leap body
change happens and she is Lord Jools]
[Lord Jools walks
up to a front door. It is answered by a Dalek wearing a pinny and a beehive
wig. He backs off.]
Dalek
And where have you been? You left the toilet seat up. You know how I have trouble with toilet seats. I had to blow it up again.
Jools
[to the camera] Boh, why did I have to marry a Dalek?
[A caption with
cheesy music - “Dalek And The Nun” - an introduction sequence shows the story
of their premarital romance, perhaps with some narrative song. The Dalek talks
in a normal-ish voice unless it is in capitals]
Song
He’s a dalek, she’s a nun,
He likes garlic, she likes buns,
He loves Art Malik, she loves Clive Dunn,
It’s Dalek & The Nun....
So sit down and don’t be late,
Dalek
Or I’ll EXTERMINATE!
Jools
So, what’s for dinner?
Dalek
I blew up a chicken in the kitchen. There’s some left on the walls but our dog had what went on the floor.
Jools
We haven’t got a dog.
Dalek
Well, a dog ate it. You haven’t said anything. Haven’t you noticed?
Jools
You’ve had your hair done. Very nice.
Dalek
No, I blew up the lounge. I thought you’d be angry.
Jools
Fine, fine.... I’m just going upstairs to lie down.
Dalek
[giggling] I’ll be up in a minute. I’ll just slip into something a little more comfortable. [her gun goes off, and blows up a vase] Oh, no! The priceless Ming Vase! Durrr!
[Jools wakes up on
a table in an operating theatre. Two doctors prod at him.]
Dr1
He’s coming around.
Jools
Where am I?
Dr1
You’re in the Year 2046.
Jools
Where’s that?
Dr2
[Black Country accent] Dudley.
Dr1
Give him the tinned baby.
Dr2
Yes, he’ll feel better after he’s eaten a tinned baby.
Jools
Eur.
Dr1
We all eat tinned babies in the year 2046. We make poor people have them so doctors and architects can eat them. They’re considered quite a delicacy. [he licks his lips with a lizard tongue]
[A knock at the door - the atmosphere lightens and an audience of
children are revealed]
Dr2
There’s somebody at the door!
Dr1
There’s somebody at the door!
All
There’s somebody at the door!
[Grotbags bursts
into the operating theatre - the children boo]
Grotbags
Shaddup, you brats.
Doctors
Grotbags!
Grotbags
That’s right, and it’s my turn to present the Paralympics. [she puts on her posh voice and we are in a swimming pool] It’s the 100 metres freestyle, and we’re in the miscellaneous category. All those whose handicaps are not otherwise catered for appear here, in this swimming pool. Bobbing in lane 1, we have Count Basie, [a bobbing head] a torso amputee from Rohampton. Limbering up in lane 2, there’s Alexis Humphries, [scratching his forearm lightly] man who suffers from mild but irritating eczema. He’s come in all the way from Shepherd’s Bush, so let’s have a warm round of hand. In lane 3, of course, there’s Peter Nunt. Peter’s handicap is that he is deeply dippy for the curves you got, and he cannot swim. Lane 4 - Carrie Fisher, whose social and physical handicap is that she is a woman having her monthlies.
[A starter pistol
goes off - a man screams and falls into lane 5]
Grotbags
And they’re off! A latecomer in lane 5, handicapped by having been shot in the face goes to an impressive start, but sadly loses his vim almost immediately. Count Basie’s giving it all he’s got, which isn’t much, bless him, but you’ve got to admire his spunk. Peter appears to be confused by the whole concept of water, and is trying to make watercastles with his bucket and spade, while Carrie goes on at him about something that wouldn’t really matter at any other time of the month. It seems Alexis is unstoppable... he’s ripping up the pool and... oh dear, he’s stopped for a scratch! This could be fatal, as the rippling of Carrie’s breasts are causing Count Basie to bob ever closer to the line... and Peter’s neck and neck with the head and ...
[we are abruptly in
a cornershop. Jools tends to the chocolate display, whilst a vixen of sorts
stands behind the counter - she is not wearing much, but that’s OK ‘cos she’s
dead gorgeous]
[Jools touches his
head, and looks around. He looks a little scared]
INT. UNDERGROUND. The Lobby of Rememberance.
[panels are falling
off everywhere, sparks are flying, and the Master is ever more frenetically
punching the Ziggy machine]
Master
This is no bloody good. I’m going to have to go in there.
INT. DAY. Judge’s Lounge.
[The two sit
uncomfortably together. Mary’s wrist is tied to Killian’s personalised coffee
table - they glance at each other, then look away.]
Mary
Excuse me?
Butcher
Yes? What?
Mary
Do you really have an underground lava mine?
Butcher
Of course I do. Why do you ask?
Mary
I mean, why? Why would you want an underground lava mine? By the time you’d got the lava out, surely it’d be just rock.
Butcher
It’s not a practical mine, Ms Highpole, it’s a mine of evil. The fact that I make children dig up lava rather than diamonds makes me more evil. I don’t do it for profit, you see.
Mary
So you’re evil then.
Butcher
Oh, yes. Quite evil.
Mary
You’ve never really done anything evil, though, have you? You’ve got a kind face.
Butcher
I have so done many evil things. I masturbated this morning.
Mary
Well that’s an unpleasant image, but it’s hardly evil.
Butcher
Onto a picture of the Pope.
Mary
Nyeh... symbolically evil, perhaps. But only to Catholics, and still...
Butcher
I wasn’t masturbating myself. I was masturbating an Alsatian onto the picture of the Pope, after which I ate the dog alive and used its tail to tickle children with spina bifida!
Mary
Ah. That’s quite evil.
Butcher
Thank you.
[pause]
Mary
Have you ever been in love?
Butcher
Oh, piss off.
EXT. DAY. Outside The House of Mystery.
Killian
Well. Our long search is over.
Hilary
[shaking his head] I really thought that old man was telling the truth.
Killian
Sweet, trusting Hilary. No-one tells the truth, ever.
Hilary
Is that true?
Killian
[thinking] Well, except me, for logic’s sake.
Hilary
Ah. Well, we’d better go in then.
[he makes through
the door]
Killian
Hilary! I am not going on a rescue mission through a bloody door! We should be parachuting through the chimney, or using the lost art of osmosis.
Hilary
Can’t you just break a window?
Killian
Break a window? That lacks class, Hilary, even for you. Common thugs could just break a window.
Hilary
Alright. I’m open to suggestions.
Killian
Well, there’s one way I’ve always wanted to storm a building....
[fade out. the
camera moves inside the shop, with some pregnant music awaiting their entry.
after a bit, the door bursts open and Killian comes gliding in on the back of a
giant snail. Hilary follows, and slips up on the trail of slime. when he gets
up. the slime is all over his hands]
Hilary
You know, being covered in this snail slime reminds me of the time we first met. Do you remember?
Killian
[changing the subject] Oh, look, a hovering dwarf.
Hilary
Killian, that’s the oldest trick.... oh.
[A female garden
gnome floats by wearing Y-fronts]
Voice
Welcome to the mystical and delicious world of time and space. If you would tuck a tenner into the panties of the hovering dwarf, her front curtains will part around a fantastic myriad of effluvia and ...
[Killian shoots the
dwarf. She shatters and purple knockout gas erupts]
Killian
Knockout gas! The flying midget was a trap!
Hilary
We should have known!
[they faint]
Snail
I don’t know why I bloody get involved, I really don’t.
INT. DAY. Jool’s Past Cornershop.
[Granville is the
scanty bird]
Jools
Where are my Fruit Pastilles? I’ve got a coach party coming in at 5, and we need those Fruit Pastilles.
Granville
I don’t know.
Jools
Have you got them down your tits?
Granville
I don’t think so.
Jools
Still, I think it’s just as well that I check, don’t you?
Granville
Are you sure? I don’t remember putting them there. I’d remember putting Fruit Pastilles down my tits, as it would strike me as an odd place to put them.
Jools
Well, I’ve looked everywhere else. Where else could you be .... [he fades off and looks at Theresa’s crotch. She looks down and frowns]
Granville
Now, Mr Porter, I really think I would remember that.
Jools
[rubbing his hands together] Nonsense, that’s very easily forgotten. Very easily forgotten indeed. And I do have to be sure.
Granville
I think that the shopkeeper next door might have stolen them. He was in earlier, and looking very shifty. Look, that’s him now.
[The door opens,
dings, and Chris Biggins or a fat bloke enters, offering Fruit Pastilles]
Donald
Do have a Fruit Pastille. I’ve pre-sucked them in case you have a sensitive palate. Of course, it renders them unmerchantable, but some prefer it that way. I know I do.
Jools
You’ll pay for this, Donald. Your Snickers are history.
Donald
[laughing as he leaves] Snickers are yesterday’s news, Porter. You can keep them.
[The Master enters
as Donald leaves]
Master
Jools, you must come home.
Jools
Why? Is the wife onto me?
Master
You don’t have a wife. You’re in the House of Lords.
Jools
No. I’m a beleaguered shopkeeper with an eye for the ladies. My abrasive personality hides a deep fear of loneliness.
Master
Not at all. You’re a bored judge who entered a state of hypnosis out of a stale curiosity. You’ve been visiting past lives. But the computer’s gone awry, and the temporal partitions are becoming unstable.
Jools
No, that’s probably not true.
Master
Look. Is it normal to have a naked assistant in a newsagent?
Jools
That entirely depends.
Master
And what is a newsagent doing selling arms to the Iraqis?
[there is a
supergun in one of the aisles]
Jools
[embarrassed] Oh, that. It’s just a deterrent.
Master
You have to come with me.
Jools
Rubbish. I’m happy here, with my shop and the lovely Granville.
Master
In any minute, your life will change again, and the genre might not be so pleasing. [The little machine bleeps - The Master brings it out] In fact, it’s happening now!
[Granville’s eyes
flash red - her hair flies off and onto Jools. She falls behind the counter.
What rises in her place is a musclebound medieval clad type. Outside, cheap
plastic dinosaurs bounce around outside Legotowns]
Master
My God, it’s a cheap ‘80s fantasy disaster movie!
[Jools is wearing a
blonde wig - Granville’s replacement is Conan]
Conan
Come, the lovely Debbie, we must away and consummate our marriage. You’ll like that. Not alot.
Master
With elements of Paul Daniels! We must get out of here!
Jools
Okey-dokey. How do I do that?
Master
I have to pinch you.
Jools
No. That’d hurt. Why can’t I pinch you?
Master
Don’t be childish. I know what I’m doing.
Jools
You’re being childish. You want to pinch me.
[The Master reaches
out to pinch him. Jools hold his arms up
mockingly]
Jools
You can’t pinch me. Because you’re stupid.
[the Master kicks
him in the bollocks]
Jools
Aha. Aha, ow.
INT. DAy. The Judges’ Lounge.
[The scene - to
rather pompy music, the two are kissing furiously, rolling around the place and
destroying things; a grandfather clock, a bottom gently descends onto a fork, a
hand gets pressed in a sandwich toaster, other mishaps]
Mary
My God, you’re so evil!
Butcher
And you’re so, so neutral.
Mary
You smooth talking bastard.
[they resume]
INT. UNDERGROUND. The Lobby of Rememberance.
[the two come out
of the door of white light into the blitzed Lobby]
Master
Thank God for that. We got you out safely.
Jools
And with only seconds to spare! Quick, it’s the dog license man! I’ll eat the dog food and you hide Digby upstairs.
Master
Hang on. You’re talking as though you’re acting in Digby, The Biggest Dog In The World.
Jools
[He does have a tin of dog food] No, there’s no dogs here. I eat this for my complexion, officer. Num, num.
Master
Oh dear, there appears to have been some residual cerebral problems in your head cortex.
Jools
Bugger.
Master
They never said that in Digby.
Jools
Didn’t they? Ah.
Master
Well, I’d better get you out of here before you realise exactly what happened.
Jools
That’s the ticket.
[They walk through
the corridor and up into the entrance]
[Meanwhile, in the
entrance, Hilary and Killian begin to stir from their drugslumber]
Hilary
Killian, I had the loveliest dream. There was a room full of tennis balls and I fell into it and I began to slip into it and I had to eat the tennis balls and you are what you eat and now I am a tennis ball.
Killian
Y Viva Espana...
Hilary
[shaking his head] Hmm. What happened?
Killian
We were gassed!
[Jools and The
Master enter - Killian and Hilary draw guns and stand back to back in a
Charlie’s Angel-like pose]
Caption
TAKE ONE
Killian
You’re toast!
Hilary
Eat lead!
Jools
Hold your bullets!
Master
Drop your weapons!
Caption
TAKE TWO
Killian
[coolly] Your lead.
Hilary
[barking] Hold your weapons! [Jools and The Master touch their crotches]
Jools
Toast your bullets!
All
To bullets!
Caption
TAKE THREE
Killian
[like a butler, handing them their guns] Your weapons.
Hilary
Eat toast!
[back to normal]
Master
Here’s your mate. He’s fine, if a little doolally.
Killian
Oh. Well, we won’t bother killing you then.
Hilary
Quickly! We’ve only three seconds left!
Epilogue. Killian and Hilary’s First Encounter.
[To the credits]
Butcher
[fingering a wad of notes] Well, this appears to be in order. I will be gone.
Mary
But I love you!
Butcher
I know. Aha haa! [he lifts up one leg, farts, and this carries him out of the window]
Mary
Oh, so utterly evil!
Hilary
Do you really remember when we first met? I can't help but notice that you keep changing the subject whenever I bring it up.
Killian
Hilary, I do not want to remember the day I met you. [to one side] And yet, I cannot forget it. It plagues my waking hours.
Mary
Oh, go on. Let's hear it.
Hilary
[to Killian] Shall I start? [Killian has a bag over his head, and is la-la-la-ing to himself - the scene is shown as narrated] Great. It was Paris, and the year was 1988. I had just walked past a bread shop, and the freshly baked aromas were making me water somewhat at the mouth. Because it is rude to spit in public, I was looking down with my mouth open and allowing the drool to fall out in that fashion.
Killian
[removing the bag - Killian's scientific explanation is accompanied by diagrams] My excuse is a little more convincing. In the 80's, there was this fashionable new theory that hot air rose, so I was testing any use that this idea may have had. Rich people were sick of having to go through the tiresome rigmarole of breathing day in, air out. It was my proposition that merely by looking upwards, the air inside you would rise out, to be replaced by the cooler external air - your body would automatically breathe. To this end, I was looking up with my tongue hanging out of my mouth.
Hilary
We suddenly became aware of each other. I credit this to some psychic link between us, which is the reason why we became such superb friends.
Killian
We became aware of each other because Hilary farted. I looked down in disrelish.
Hilary
And I looked up thanks to our otherworldly bond.
Killian
Piffle. Anyway, what happened next was the end of my career in the marines. In helpless surprise, we slipped into each other.
Hilary
And the shock of being so... penetrated... made us both hiccup.
Killian
At the same time. This, of course, created a vacuum in our mouths making it impossible for us to seperate.
Hilary
For three full days, we were stuck. No-one would help us - we didn't look like we needed help.
Killian
We looked like we were having the time of our lives.
Hilary
We developed a name for ourselves. [tutting motherlyly] Some French wag dubbed us "those crazy Eenglesh 'omos".
Killian
We couldn't eat. We only survived by alternately eating the other's vomit.
Hilary
It got pretty stale towards the end. I can tell you!
Mary
So how did you finally break this unholy union?
Killian
Somehow using tantric sex magic to induce a simultaneous belch.
Mary
Ingenious!
Killian
Now, let's never talk of this again. Goodnight.
Mary
One thing, what is wrong with Jools?
Jools
You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth.
Killian
He’s having a few problems. He should be alright within, say, a week.
Hilary
Super!
Narrator
Well, that’ll just have to wait. For next week, we’ll be taking a step out of the usual rigmarole, and be taking a retrospective look at the making of “The M’Lud Life”. We think you will enjoy!