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APOCALYPSE

Series 1, Episode 4
October 8, 1991

Written by
ADRIAN EDMONDSON and RIK MAYALL

Richie:

Is it dead?

Eddie:

Yeah.

Richie:

Right. Shall we fry it or poach it?

Eddie:

I don't really care as long as I get the head.

Richie:

Right. And this is definitely the only food in the house?

Eddie:

That's right, the rest is hidden in the cistern.

Richie:

Right, so we bring her in, we sit her down, and she sees that we're so poor that we've had to kill Elvis. Just to give her something for her tea.

Eddie:

Yeah.

Richie:

She's very fond of animals, Eddie, that's why it's so important that you're here.

Eddie:

Right.

Richie:

And if that doesn't break her heart...

Eddie:

[Holds up a truncheon.] Then this will!

Richie:

No, Eddie, no!

Eddie:

Ah, come on, Richie, let's just rumble the old bird!

Richie:

Look, we've got gas bills, we've got electric bills, we've got poll tax, we've got rent... Our only chance is to get Auntie Olga to write us a big fat cheque. Ooh, that reminds me, I'd better get her to bring all her chequebooks. Daft old cow brought a bunch of bananas last time. Eddie, spread those bills around strategically so she sees one wherever she sits.

[He picks up the phone.]

'Hello, operator! I'd like to make a, er, reverse charges call, please. Littlepiddle three three eight.'

Eddie, you know what to say when she gets here?

Eddie:

Yeah. Er, 'Give us some money, you old bag.'

Richie:

No.

Eddie:

'Give us some money, you old witch'?

Richie:

No!

Eddie:

'Old bastard.'

Richie:

No!!

Eddie:

'Git.'

Richie:

No! [He sighs.] You say: 'I am a sad orphan.'

Eddie:

Right. 'I am a sad orphan. Give us some money, you old bag!'

Richie:

No, you prat! Oh! 'Hello operator, not you, ha ha ha ha. Yeah, well tell them it's Richard Richard. Yes.'

Eddie? Eddie. Sprinkle some water about the place, make it look as if we've been crying a lot.

'What do you mean they won't accept the charges? Bastards!'

[He slams the phone down.]

I'm going to have to dial direct!

Eddie:

What's this? Annual membership to 'Barbarella's Aerobic Fitness Centre'?

Richie:

Nothing to do with me.

Eddie:

It's got 'Richard Richard' written on it.

Richie:

Ah. Er...

Eddie:

'Leotard'?

Richie:

Well, er, Eddie, none of us are getting any younger. I just pop along every Wednesday afternoon and firm up.

Eddie:

What, you, er, you stand at the back of a room full of girls jiggling their bottoms up and down and 'firm up'?

Richie:

That's right.

Eddie:

I bet you do.

Richie:

Listen, you big fat cu-- Ooh! 'Ha-hello Auntie! It's Rikkie-tikkie-tovie! Kissy-kissy-kissy hug hug hug! Oh, it's you Mrs Higginbottom, you sad old fart. Go and get my auntie. What d'you mean, no? You're still a servant, aren't you? Do what you're bloody told, get that Zimmer cracking! Listen, shut up, shut up! I still remember what I saw when I was four. Yeah. You, the chauffeur, the bucket of fish... Yeah. So go and get her! I don't care if she's dead, just go and ge--' Eddie, my aunt is dead! 'When did it happen? Last night? Hmm. So they haven't read the will yet? Well, look in the desk... Well, search the body then! And hands off those gold teeth, I've got first dibs on them.'

Eddie:

'I am a sad orphan. Give us your gold teeth, you old bitch!'

Richie:

Shut up! This is a very difficult time for me. 'Have you got it? Great. What does it say? Hh! Fantastic!'

Richie:

Get the duckling, get the little duckling! That's right, blaze away, Eddie, blaze away. We deserve a little celebration. Auntie Olga is dead! At last! Six hundred smackers to do whatever we like with! Three hundred pounds right here, and three hundred more safe and sound on top of the bathroom cabinet where no-one will ever find them. Hahhh!

Eddie:

Right, well, I'll have another hundred bullets then please, mate.

Gypsy:

Hold it! That's forty-five quid you owe me so far.

Eddie:

Ah. I haven't got any money.

[Stallholder is about to take what is owed out of Eddie's hide.]

 

Richie:

No, no, no, no, no. No need for that! I'll get the forty-five quid. Ha ha ha, oh, I love you Romany types with your legendary camp-fire hospitality and your quaint insistence on settling bills immediately! Eh, eh... Thieving bastard, gippos! Someone's swiped my wallet!

Gypsy:

Yeah, likely story. Come on, I want my forty-five quid!

Richie:

Did you not hear what I just said? I have just lost three hundred pounds! Yeah, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was you that nicked it, you swarthy thieving nomad! Yeah, either you or one of your slippery deformed half-brothers! Yes! Yes! I know what you gypsies get up to when the lights go out! Extended family? It's just another word for a sexual free-for-all! Well, you're not in Romania now buster, and I'm gonna go and get a British policeman!

[He suddenly notices the crowd of menacing gypsies gathered behind him.]

Ah, er, what are you...

[The stallholder cocks the gallery riffle and levels it at Richie.]

Gypsy:

You are going nowhere until I get my forty-five quid.

Richie:

Eddie, help!

Eddie:

Hhh, hang on. Why don't you give me another crack at the fifty quid star prize and we'll call it double or quits?

Gypsy:

Yeah, all right.

Richie:

Good luck, Eddie!

[Eddie readies the gun.]

Eddie:

Um, excuse me, mate?

Gypsy:

Yeah?

[The gypsy turns round to Eddie, who shoots him in the eye. Eddie and Richie run off with the rest of the crowd in pursuit. The stallholder is doubled up, clutching his hand over his eye. Richie runs back and pokes him in his other eye, wiping his finger on his jacket afterwards. Eddie and Richie run through the Haunted House to hide, emerging from the other end even more shaken. They dive into a fortune-teller's tent, occupied by an old gypsy woman.]

Richie:

Hah, three hundred quid! Thieving bastard vagabonds!

Woman:

Cross my palm with silver.

Richie:

Oh, my god, there's another one.

Woman:

Cross my palm with silver.

Richie:

No, I will not, you and your lot have had more than enough off me today, thank you very much.

Woman:

Then you must leave the tent.

Richie:

Nothing would give me a greater pleasure. How does it look, Eddie?

Eddie:

Well, on a scale of one to ten I'd say it's bicycle clip time.

Richie:

All right then, you old battleaxe. You may read me my fortune.

Woman:

First you must cross my palm with silver.

Richie:

Look, I can't cross your palm with silver, I've just had my wallet nicked. You're a fortune-teller, you should know that.

Woman:

Cross my palm with silver!

Richie:

Well, I've only got five p left.

Woman:

That's not enough.

Richie:

Give me strength. Well look, can't you criss-cross it about the place a bit?

Woman:

It's not enough!

Richie:

Well, just give me five pence worth then. We know you get it all from the Evening Standard anyway.

Woman:

For five p your future's going to look pretty bleak, mate.

Richie:

Have you got a licence for what you do? I bet you haven't, have you? I think either you give me a free fortune-telling or I'll phone the police and tell them. Yeah, and they'll deport you back to Ummagumma-land or wherever it is you come from, and you'll eke out the rest of your days making little elephants from bits of dried banana.

Woman:

Yes, I have got a licence. Unlike you. Your driving licence is a fake.

Richie:

How do you know that? Eddie, maybe the old crone has got something.

Eddie:

Yeah. Looks like dropsy.

Woman:

At least my licence doesn't say 'Martin Andrews' crossed out, and 'Sir Richard Richard, V.C.' crudely written over the top of the plastic in biro.

Richie:

How do you know these things?

Woman:

I see... everything.

Richie:

What else do you see?

Woman:

I see... Oooh, ho-ho, I see a naughty nudie picture of a little lady, with Julia Somerville's face plastered on top of it!

Richie:

Bloody hell, Eddie! That's my secret love picture that nobody knows about! She's a genius!

Eddie:

Yeah! Hey, ask her if she can see a picture of Julia Somerville with her own body all nudie.

Richie:

Shut up, Eddie!

Eddie:

And whether we can get a copy of it. It'd be worth a fortune, that!

Richie:

I think the crone might be worth a fortune. Tell me more, old bag.

Woman:

I cannot tell you more without more money.

Richie:

Well, I haven't got any more money!

Woman:

Well, give me your watch.

Richie:

All right. There you are.

Woman:

Oooh. Mmmmm... Ahhhhmmm...

Richie:

Ahhhhhhmmm..

Woman:

Before the moon rises three times...

Richie:

Yes? Yes?

Woman:

You're gonna die.

Richie:

Eh? I'm gonna... what?

Woman:

You are going to die.

Richie:

No! No!

Woman:

The power is fading...

Richie:

Here, let me have a look!

Woman:

The aura is dimming...

Richie:

Hhh, gaw, what a swizz!

Woman:

Well what d'you expect for five p?

Richie:

And my watch!

Woman:

It's broken.

Richie:

Hahhh! She's a genius!

[Richie and Eddie run out, leaving the fortune-teller sitting at the table smiling knowingly.]

Richie:

Come on, come on! Out of the way, out of the way. Out of the way. Look, are you terminal? Come on, come on! I want to see a doctor.

Nurse:

Do you have an appointment?

Richie:

Of course I have an appointment.

Nurse:

What's your name?

[Richie looks at her appointment list.]

Richie:

Er... Williams.

Nurse:

Oh. Mr Williams. Goodness gracious, you are looking well.

Richie:

Well, you know, like to put a brave face on it. One doesn't like to wallow in these things. Ha...

Nurse:

Yes, and you've grown two new legs.

Richie:

Yeah, they're good aren't they... No, no, not Williams, that other name that sounds like Williams, er, er, there it is... Henderson. Ha haha, I always get those ones mixed up.

Nurse:

That's even more remarkable, Mr Henderson. You died at six o'clock this morning and you've changed sex.

Richie:

All right, Poirot, so I haven't got an appointment.

Nurse:

Well, why didn't you make an appointment?

Richie:

Because I didn't know I was going to be ill!

Nurse:

I'm sorry sir, but unless it's an emergency...

Richie:

It is! It is! It's an emergency.

Nurse:

Why, what's the matter?

Richie:

I've only got three days to live!

Nurse:

Why, what's wrong with you?

Richie:

I don't know.

Nurse:

Well how do you feel?

Richie:

I feel great.

Nurse:

Look, there's some genuinely sick people in here who need attention.

Richie:

Yeah, I think you're one of them, Missus!

Nurse:

We can fit you in a week next Friday.

Richie:

So this is it, is it? This is the land fit for heroes. I hurt my leg in the Falklands conflict for this, did I?

Man:

Did he?

Eddie:

Oh yeah, he tripped over the coffee table trying to switch channels.

Richie:

Well, it's just not good enough! I pay my taxes! Er... well, er, anyway, that's not important. I demand to see a doctor! Right now! Or what's the matter, are they all round the back flogging off the morphine?

[Richie's shouting has disturbed a surgeon, who emerges from a curtained alcove. He is dressed in a pink gown.]

Surgeon:

Look, I've got a dying woman in here, will you shut up and get out! You look perfectly well to me.

Richie:

Perfectly well? Look buster, if I'd wanted a transvestite's opinion I'd have gone to the Whisky-a-go-go! I'm here to see a doctor.

Surgeon:

Do you mind? I'm Sir Roger Cobham, OBE, the world famous heart surgeon, this is my hospital!

[He gives Richie a brief looking-over.]

Surgeon:

Now then, you look perfectly well to me. Shut up and get out.

Richie:

Oh, thank god. Hah-ur... Sorry I didn't recognise you there, Doc.

[He leans on the patient. Blood spurts out.]

Sorry! Got bad eyesight, you see. It's a Falklands war wound. Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, thanks again, mate!

[He slaps the surgeon on the back, pushing him down onto the now bloodstained patient.]

Sorry. Well look, is there anything I can do to help? I mean, I owe you one now. Anything you want, just name it. You want spare parts? Look. I've got Eddie right here. Anything I can do to help, just name it.

Surgeon:

I want you to stop talking and leave this hospital!

Richie:

You've got it, we're out of here. Come on Eddie, you heard the man.

[Richie has an idea and turns back to talk to the surgeon again.]

Hey, come on, come on.

[He leans on the patient again. There is a nasty squelch. Blood spurts.]

Oh, sorry, sorry. Come on, I know the NHS. Have a quid. Go on... oh, haven't got any money. Well, I'll owe it to you. All right? Thanks again, mate. Ha ha. And thanks to you, dear. Should she really be that colour?

Surgeon:

Get out!

Richie:

Right, well, there we are Eddie. See you all later. Ha ha ha ha ha. Hah. Thanks, dear, you're doing a great job.

[He pinches the nurse's cheek, notices he has stained her face with blood, and wipes his hands on some of the papers on her desk.]

Ha ha. There you are, Eddie... clean bill of health. Huh. See, I know the old crone was insane. Oh great... the lift's working again.

[There is an old man in a wheelchair in front of the lift. The 'Out of Order' sign is hanging around his neck.]

Hahh, it's so good to be alive! After you, old-timer.

[Richie pushes the old man through the doors, however there is no lift behind them. He falls down the shaft with a scream. Richie and Eddie peer down the shaft. There is a crash from below; they both flinch.]

God, that's terrible! That could have been me.

[The lift doors close again.]

That's it, Eddie! That's what she meant. Of course I'm not ill, look at me, I'm the picture of health! An accident, that's how it's going to happen! The question is, how?

Eddie:

You sure you don't want your sausages?

Richie:

No, I do not. I'm not taking any chances.

Eddie:

Okey-dokey, matey!

[Eddie scoops all the food onto his plate and slings the frying pan into the corner of the room.]

Richie:

Hoh... what was that apocalyptic clonk?

Eddie:

Well, I didn't see anything. Relax, old chum, I'm on guard, remember?

Richie:

[To himself.] Must be hallucinating. Three days now with no food or water. Still, I'm safe under the sofa. And I've only got to make it until the moon comes up tonight. And then I'll have something to eat, all right. Ha ha. There's a couple of Taiwanese ranch-style jumbo fish-burgers in the freezer that have got my name on them.

Eddie:

No, you've had them.

Richie:

No, I haven't!

Eddie:

Yeah, you had them for lunch. Remember?

Richie:

I haven't had anything to eat for the last three days!

Eddie:

Well, no, obviously you didn't eat them. I ate them for you. You made me test them for poison, remember? Like I've been testing everything. I'm bloody knackered, I am. You're lucky to have such a good mate. I've tested all that Indian take-away, those three pizzas, bottle of Scotch... I had to test all of that. Totally tested out the drinks cabinet. Things got so bad I had to test that box of liqueur chocolates we've been saving for our anniversary.

Richie:

Oh, I'm starving, I am! Has the moon come up yet, Eddie?

Eddie:

I can't see from here.

Richie:

Well go and have a look!

Eddie:

You go and have a look!

Richie:

I can't go near the window. You know that. I might fall out. Or the window might fall in.

Eddie:

Well, I can't go, they might think I'm Sean Connery.

Richie:

What? You don't look a bit like Sean Connery.

Eddie:

''Allo. My name's James Bond. Not a lot of people know that.'

Richie:

I don't know. Maybe death would be a blessed release.

Eddie:

'Zulus. Thousands of 'em. Wait 'til you see the whites of their eyes, lads.'

They would have won if they'd kept their eyes closed! 'Not a lot of people know that.'

Richie:

Eddie, Eddie! Eddie!

Eddie:

What?

Richie:

Here's five p. Shut up, and go and see if the moon's come up!

Eddie:

That's two things.

Richie:

All right. Here you are. Swindler. Well, what does it look like?

Eddie:

Hah! Well, it's all so hard to tell. It's all so glum and cloudy, you know, like it normally is. Hard to tell whether it's day or night. Shall I switch the telly on and see if it's evening yet?

Richie:

Yes, go on, old sport.

[Eddie puts the television on. The 'Neighbours' theme tune. He switches it back off again.]

Eddie:

Well, it could be any time really.

Richie:

Oh, blast that vicious old gypsy slag-wagon! I've been stuck underneath this sofa for three whole days now. And absolutely nothing's happened. Well I'm fed up with it. I'm going to the lavvy once and for all. I'm not scared of any silly mumbo-jumbo. If it's coming, it's coming. I'm not scared. I'm going to stare Fate right in the face.

[He walks, hard, into the edge of the open door.]

Arghh! Oh god, it's true, it's true! Did you see that, Eddie? Huh! You see? It could come from anywhere! Should the ceiling be sagging like that? What is that, what have you got up there?

Eddie:

Ah, that's my piano.

Richie:

In the middle of the room?

Eddie:

Yeah.

Richie:

Well that's dangerous, that shouldn't be up there. Go up there and shift it!

Eddie:

It'll cost you.

Richie:

[Sigh.] All right. There's a twenty pee bit inside a polythene bag, Sellotaped to the bottom of the cistern.

Eddie:

Righty-o.

Richie:

And hurry up!

Eddie:

Running all the way.

[Eddie leaves at a normal causual pace. Richie kneels and prays.]

Richie:

O Lord. You won't know me, but my name's Richard Richard. And you won't know me because I've led such a quiet and blameless life. Well, apart from that incident with the oven-ready chicken. I have already apologised about that, I don't know if you remember, but I did. Haha. Anyway, look, the thing is we haven't got much time. Er, I was wondering if I could do a little deal with you? You see, because I don't deserve any of this at all. But I know somebody who does. There's Eddie, that chap who just went out.

[Some terrible piano playing drifts down from upstairs.]

'Cause he's a foul pervert, and a dole-scrounger. Er... [Shouting upwards.] Look, could you just stop piddling around and move it, will you! You bastard! [Praying.] No, no, not you Sir. Our Lord. I was talking to Eddie, the evil one. The thing is, if you could see your way clear to murdering him horribly instead of me then I promise, and I mean it... look, I haven't got my fingers crossed or anything... I, I promise that I'll go to church for the rest of my life. You do still do that thing with the wine and the biscuits, don't you? Great. Thank you for your time. Oh, oh, one other thing, Lord. If you're, if you're still there. Seeing as I'm going to live, it's about girls. I was... Shut up, Eddie!... I was wondering if I could just have a few more... Will you shut up, Eddie!... Or just one... once. I mean, you're... [stops praying] right, that's it.

[He shouts up the stairs from the doorway.]

Edward Hitler, come down here at once!

[The piano, complete with Eddie sitting on the stool, crashes through the ceiling crushing upturned couch that Richie had formerly been hiding under for three days.]

It's you!

Eddie:

Well, who did you expect it to be?

Richie:

You're the one! You're the one who said, 'Let's go to the fair.' You're the one who shot the thug in the eye. You're the one who said let's hide in the gypsy's tent where I got the curse! And then, on the third night, just before the moon rose, you drop a piano on my head! Bastard! You're after Auntie Olga's three hundred quid, aren't you? Well, I've got news for you, buster! You're out of here!

[He hits Eddie over the head with the poker. Clang!]

You're history. [Clang!] How could you treat a friend so badly, I'd never do anything like that! [Clang!] Go on, get out of here before I set the dogs on you!

Eddie:

We haven't got any dogs!

Richie:

Yes, I know we haven't. It was a figure [Clang! Clang!] of [Clang!] speech. [Clang!] Get out!

[A final blow sends Eddie tumbling down the stairs.]

And good riddance!

[Richie slams the door shut. He sighs and looks at the bent poker.]

My poker!

Richie:

Ha ha ha. Safe, at last. Hah, I think I'll just pop into bed with my hottie-bottie. Hahhh, oohhh... ooh! Hahhhh! Where's my bedside book? Ah, here we are, 'War and Peace'. We've been at it a few years now, haven't we, old mate? Where was I? Ah yes. Chapter One, sentence three. Oh! Hah, here we go again. Where's the dictionary? I'll never find out who did it at this rate. Lucky enough to find out what is was they did. Oh, that's enough reading for one night. Hahhh, tired. Hoahh... good for the soul though, a bit of reading. No doubt about that. Ooh, I'm all relaxed now. That's nice. D'you know, I think I might... no, I'll just go to sleep. Nighty-night, World, God bless me! See you in the morning... not too early! Hah... wonder whatever happened to my Mum? Oh well, heigh-ho.

[A door squeaks downstairs.]

Hah! No, no. Hahhh...

[Another squeak.]

It's bloody Eddie! It's bloody Eddie, sneaking in to get me when I switch the lights out. Well, I've got a surprise for him. Where's my cricket bat?

[Footsteps approach the door. Someone knocks hard three times.]

Come in!

[Dramatic music as a tall figure in a black cloak and cowl, carrying a scythe, enters. Richie cowers in terror.]

Are you? Have you come from? No, no... Oh my god! The moon's up! Oh my god! She was right! She was right! Oh my god! Jesus H. Corbett! I mean, Christ! This can't be happening to me! No, come on, come on, let's be English about this. [to intruder] Excuse me! This is a private house. If you don't clear off my property immediately I shall be forced to call the police!

[The figure crosses to the phone, yanks the cord out of the wall, and throws the phone through the window.]

Okay, point taken. So this is it, is it? Ahhh-h, I have no time, I am not ready! Have I got time to change? I can't really go up there in my jimmy-jams, can I? What would Saint Pete think? They do call him Saint Pete, don't they? First impressions are terribly important, I always think. Unless... Whi-which way am I going? Up, or...

[Death raises his arm high, pointing up.]

Ahhh.

[..and then plunges it down.]

Arrghhhh! Ahh, aghh, ahh... no, no, no, no, no...

[Richie starts sobbing. Death staggers against the wall. He raises his cowl... it is Eddie. Richie doesn't notice.]

Wait! Wait! What about chess?

Eddie:

[in a deep voice] What about it?

Richie:

Hoohh! Why don't we play a game of chess?

Eddie:

Umm... because I don't know the rules!

Richie:

Well, that's all right, I'll teach you the rules.

Eddie:

No. You won't need rules where you're going, mate. You'll need asbestos underpants! 'Cause you're going downstairs, me old cocker! Ooh, the moans. Ooh, the screams. Ooh, the countless billions thrown naked into the pit.

Richie:

Ah-hhhh-aaawww... naked? Hworrggh! Wait, wait, wait. What about Cluedo?

Eddie:

Nah, they tried it once, mate, but all the pieces caught fire.

Richie:

No, no, no, I mean why don't we play Cluedo for my life?

Eddie:

Because you always cheat! You always look at the mystery cards!

Richie:

How do you know these things?

Eddie:

I'm Death!

Richie:

Sorry. [Shouting.] How do you know these things?

Eddie:

No, I'm Death! I'm Death!

Richie:

Oh, if only Eddie were here.

Eddie:

Yeah. Eddie was pretty great at everything, wasn't he?

Richie:

Well you wouldn't have come in if he was here, mate. The pong would have sent you round the twist.

Eddie:

Right, that's it, mate, your time's up! Time to get out, don't try and object..

Richie:

No, no! Please, please! Give me one more chance. I Spy.

Eddie:

Ummmm. Um, okay.

Richie:

Okay. A-a-and if I win, I get to live, okay?

Eddie:

[in his own voice] Okey-dokey, matey!

Richie:

Pardon?

Eddie:

[in his deep voice] Hm-hm, I mean all right, mortal.

Richie:

[Richie wonders about the voice for a second] Hh, it's not possible.

Okay, I Spy it is. Oh god, this is important. Better make it a goodie. Okay, coming, ready or not. I Spy with my little eye something beginning with 'S'.

Eddie:

'Submarine'.

Richie:

No! Ha ha! It was 'Scythe'. Ha ha! Oh, I win, I get to live! Thank you, Baby Jesus! Thank you, all the Baby Jesuses!

Eddie:

Hang on, hang on, hang on! 'Scythe' doesn't begin with an 'S'.

Richie:

Yes, it does!

Eddie:

It bloody doesn't, it's a 'C'!

Richie:

It's not!

Eddie:

It is, get a dictionary!

Richie:

All right, I've got one here. Here. Scythe, scythe, scythe. There you are, 'Scythe'. 'S-C-Y-T-H-E'.

Eddie:

That's 'Sither'.

Richie:

It's 'Scythe', it says 'Scythe' there! It's in the dictionary, Jesus wrote this!

Eddie:

All right then mortal, I can see you're eager to keep your life. How's about I offer you a straight deal?

Richie:

A deal? Sure, no problem. Great.

Eddie:

How much money have you got in the house?

Richie:

Oh, none.

Eddie:

What about the three hundred quid on top of the bathroom cabinet?

Richie:

How do you know about that?

Eddie:

God, I keep telling you mate, I'm Death. I know everything.

Richie:

Everything? What, even about the...

Eddie:

Especially that, you naughty boy.

Richie:

Oh no, I'll get the money, just don't tell anybody! You wait right here!

[Richie rushes out. Eddie falls over onto the bed, stumbling around the room on his stilts and eventually managing to stand up straight again just as Richie returns.]

Here you are! So I give you the three hundred, and I get to keep my life. Okay?

Eddie:

Nnn... not quite. No. Ah, the full deal is this: I get to keep the three hundred pounds, and your fantastic mate, Eddie, gets to live here rent free for the rest of his life.

Richie:

Okay. It's a deal.

Eddie:

And while I'm at it, I'll have that secret copy of 'Girlie World' you keep hidden under your mattress.

[Richie hesitates.]

Or you'll burn in the fires of Hell!

Richie:

Oh, all right. Bye. Is that everything now?

Eddie:

[in his own voice] That's it, mate! Cheerio! Ah hahaha, three hundred quid and a copy of 'Girlie World'! Hahahahaha! Woop!

[Eddie falls down the stairs, ending up in a heap at the bottom.]

Oh, blimey, I think I've broken my stilts!

Richie:

Eddie Hitler, you total bastard! How did you know about my secret copy of 'Girlie World'? Right, that's it, you're going to get a knuckle sandwich and I don't mean a sandwich with some knuckles in it! Well, I do actually, er... well no, I don't really, well... Well, you're going to get a smash in the chops and no questions answered anyway!

[He rushes downstairs, is about to punch Eddie when there is a knock on the front door.]

Well, who on earth can that be at this time of night?

Eddie:

Well. I'm not expecting anyone.

Richie:

Hhhh... maybe it's the real Death!

Eddie:

Hey, now that'd be a turn-up!

[The door is smashed down.]

Richie:

Eddie, you fight him to the death and I'll slip down the fire escape.

Eddie:

Too late.

[The door smashes open, it is the gypsy stallholder from the fair.]

Gypsy:

Sir Richard Richard, Esquire?

Both:

[pointing to each other] Oh, that's him.

Gypsy:

I've got your wallet.

Both:

[pointing to themselves] Oh, that'd be me then.

Richie:

How very honest of you. You know, I have always said that you Romany types are as generous as the day is...

Gypsy:

All the credit cards have expired. And the driving licence is a forgery. And apart from the nudie collage of Julia Somerville, it's all history. Rather like my eye!

Richie:

So that's how she knew all those things!

Gypsy:

Now, how much money have you got in the house?

Richie:

None.

Gypsy:

Well what about that three hundred pounds that I've heard about, that you've got safely ensconced on top of the bathroom cabinet?

Eddie:

Um, it-it-it-it's not there any more.

Gypsy:

Well, I'll just have to have this then, won't I? [takes the three hundred quid Eddie has been trying to stuff up his trousers to hide] That should just about cover the three hundred pounds they told me in Harley Street it would cost to get me eye fixed. Yeah, and while I'm here, I think I'll have that copy of 'Girlie World', an' all.

Richie:

Very wise choice, Sir. Oh, one more thing.

Gypsy:

Yeah?

Richie:

Well, seeing as you're here. Would you like to kick Eddie in the bollocks?

Gypsy:

Don't mind if I do. Thank you very much.

Richie:

Be my guest.

[The kick lands with a terrible crunch. The screen freezes on Eddie's pained face, the titles roll.]