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DIGGER

Series 2, Episode 1
October 1, 1992

Written by
ADRIAN EDMONDSON and RIK MAYALL

Lily:

Hello, gentlemen, sorry to have kept you waiting. Which one of you is Mr Hitler?

Eddie:

Oh, that'll be me.

Lily:

Any relation?

Eddie:

[puzzled] Well, I've got a mother.

Lily:

No, no, no, no, I meant Adolf Hitler.

Eddie:

Yes, that's her!

Lily:

How interesting. Hehehehehehe!

Eddie:

[immitating laugh] Hehehehehehe!

Eddie & Richie:

[immitating laughs] Hahahahahahaha!

Lily:

Right, well, if you'd like to come through to the office. Come on.

Eddie:

Hahahahaha!

Richie:

Oh shut up, Eddie!

[They go in and sit at the desk.]

Ooh.

Lily:

Right. Gentlemen, I think we'll start with a little look at your videos, all right? [moves to the television] Now, eh, can you see all right?

Eddie:

[confused] Erm... no, that's why I wear glasses.

Richie:

I've got excellent eyesight. Which is remarkable when you think about it.

Lily:

Right, eh, well, eh, here comes the first video.

Eddie:

[on video] Is it on? Alright, here we go. Smooth, suave and sophisticated... you got it! Hello girls! Eddie Hitler here. Come and get it! [gets up on chair, turns round, wiggles his bottom at the camera, walks forward out of shot] Yep, that ought to do it. [video ends]

Lily:

[to Eddie] Now, what sort of woman are you looking for?

Eddie:

Erm, Kim Basinger.

Lily:

[consulting computer] A woman like Kim Basinger.

Eddie:

No, Kim Basinger. The real one.

Lily:

I'm afraid she's not on our books.

Eddie:

Well it's not much of a love booreau, is it?

Lily:

Right, shall we have a look at yours then, Mr Richard?

Richie:

[shocked] What, he-here, in the office? That's a bit thorough, isn't it? [rummages in his trousers]

Lily:

No! No-no, I meant your video.

Richie:

Oh, I see, I see! Sorry. I'm new to this game, you see I've normally got loads of birds but there was a coach crash last week and I lost forty of them.

Lily:

Right. Well, let's just have a look at the tape then, shall we?

Richie:

Oh no, no, do we have to? Oh no, it's just awful, I hate it, its, eh, eh, let's just skip the whole thing shall we? Eh... what about you? Are you on the list? I mean you'd do. You're a bit ragged 'round the edges, but beggars can't be choosers. Did I tell you that's a smashing blouse you've got on?

Lily:

No.

Richie:

Oh, here goes then: That's a smashing blouse you've got on!

Lily:

Ooh, yes?

Richie:

Er... er... er, erghh, come on Eddie, help me out, I've exhausted all me chat-up lines.

Eddie:

Look, why don't we just watch the video?

Richie:

Why don't we... oh yes, yes, of course. Yes, right, what are we waiting for?

Lily:

Right. Hehehehe. Here it is then.

Richie:

[on video, studdering nervous wreck] He-l-o-o-o-oh. Hel-l-lo. Ah... eh, lovely weather... er... I, I can't see you, obviously, but I bet you've all got smashing blouses on. Er... um... my name's Richard, and, ah... ah-heeh... I'm looking for a, a friend. Ah... well, a lover really. But failing that a quick wriggle would do! [Suddenly confident] Oh, and by the way, I am the Duke of Kiddiminster and extremely rich! [blank out]

Lily:

Oooh! I didn't realise you were nobility.

Eddie:

[accusingly] Nor did I!

Richie:

Er, oh, oh yes, I'm an eccentric millionaire, you know. [pulling face] Er, hooooo-hoo-hoo! Huh, I, I'm so inbred that I'm a bit stupid. Ha, heeroooo-hooo! Oh, we've been inbreeding since the Vikings you know, there's no one loopier than the Richards! Er, bottom-fish-bananas... er, et cetera.

Lily:

Right, well, ah, let's have a look at your forms then, shall we? All right. Oh, I see... you want someone homely...

Both:

Hmm-hmm.

Lily:

...with cooking skills...

Both:

Hmm-hmm.

Lily:

...fun to be with... and a wazzo pair of jugs?

Eddie:

That's right.

Richie:

But obviously we're flexible.

Eddie:

Ah, but not about the jugs.

Richie:

No, we have to be firm on the jugs.

Eddie:

And the jugs have to be very firm. [gesture]

Richie:

We... ah, come off it, Eddie! I mean, there must be more to life than jugs.

[Eddie shakes his head and looks questioningly at Richie. Richie thinks.]

Richie:

Well... You're right, a wazzo pair of jugs it is.

Lily:

Right. Well, I've inputted your data.

Both:

Oooh!

Lily:

And I think we've come up with the perfect date. [nods] Hm. Lady Natasha Letitia Sarah Jane Wellesley...

Richie:

She sounds n...

Lily:

Obstromsky Ponsonsky Smythe Smythe Smythe Smythe Smythe Oblomov Boblomov Dob, third viscountess of Moldavia.

Eddie:

[slaps table] Sounds great, we'll have half a dozen!

Richie:

Shut up, Eddie! She sounds marvellous. In fact... [hand on heart] Oh, I'm in love. I'll take her!

Lily:

Right, well, there's her phone number, Duke Richard, and the very best of luck.

Richie:

Thank you very much indeed.

Eddie:

And what have you got for me?

Lily:

Ooh... Sarah Ferguson.

Eddie:

[hits table] Do you mind, I'm a respectable man! Come Richie, let us leave while we still have our dignity. Sarah Ferguson indeed!

[Eddie storms out, hitting himself with the door. Richie follows.]

Richie:

Haaargh! Oh, that'll just have to do. [leaving it loose] Now, your name is Jives, got that?

Eddie:

Jives.

Richie:

Right. And when she arrives you've got to take her coat, curtsey, and say, 'Charming evening, Ma-a-am.'

Eddie:

Why have I got to say 'Ma-a-a-am'?

Richie:

Look, Eddie, it's just a speech impediment that all butlers have. Now come on! This evening has cost me a bloody hell of a lot of money, I had to sell a kidney to raise the cash for all this stuff! So I don't want you messing it up. Don't you worry, I'll soon get another kidney once I've sunk my teeth into her and sold off a bit of her property.

Eddie:

Well, I offered them mine.

Richie:

Yeah, well they're not much use pickled are they? Mind you, Sarsons showed some interest, didn't they?

Eddie:

I still say we should mug her.

Richie:

Look, don't worry, Eddie, I know what I'm doing. I've actually got some aristocratic blood in me you know. Well, I mean they all give blood, don't they, and I've had loads of transfusions in my life. So the chances are I've got quite a lot of nob in me.

[Eddie looks quizzically at the camera.]

Richie:

I really think this is the one, Eddie. Even on the telephone there was an immediate sexual tension.

Eddie:

What, you mean you felt horny and she felt tense?

Richie:

Yeah... no! Oh shuuuuut uuuup, Eddie! You're just jealous because you're only a servant. Were you never in love?

Eddie:

Yes, I was actually.

Richie:

Ha... ooh. Oh-ho-ho, what was her name?

Eddie:

[lovingly] Harry.

Richie:

Harry?

Eddie:

[dreamily] Harry Belafonti.

Richie:

Wait a minute, you were in love with Harry Belafonti?

Eddie:

Well that's what she said her name was. Well, she sort of shouted it over her shoulder as she ran away into the night.

Richie:

[sighs] Oh look, let's just forget it shall we?

Eddie:

That's what she said!

Richie:

Look, let's just drop it.

Eddie:

She said that as well!

Richie:

Edward Hitler, I'm really not interested!

Eddie:

This is uncanny! Were you there?

[There is a ring at the doorbell.]

Richie:

Oh God, she's here! Hoh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh God I'm shaking like a leaf! Eddie, I need a stiff one!

Eddie:

There'll be plenty of time for that later. Do you want me to answer the door?

Richie:

No, no, I mean a drink, you fool!

Eddie:

Oh, right. [pours a drink] There you go.

Richie:

Thanks, Eddie. [drinks] Ungh. Phwaaa, hoh hoh hoh hoh, hah, oh-ho-ho-hooo, hwoh, hwoh... That's the stuff. Aah! What was it?

Eddie:

Tizer.

Richie:

Well, it does the trick! I think I'll have another.

Eddie:

No, no, steady on, Richie.

[Another ring.]

Richie:

All right, all right, take it easy, you bitch! I mean, Your Bitchness! I mean Lady Bitch of... oh god, Eddie, what do you call them?

Eddie:

Jugs, what do you call them?

[Richie hits him.]

Richie:

Right, now go and answer the door. All right?

Eddie:

Right you are, your ma-a-a-a-m.

Richie:

I despair, I really do. Right, I'd better prepare myself to receive her.

Eddie:

Charming evening, your ma-a-a-am. Give us your coat.

Collector:

What are you doing?

Eddie:

Taking your coat.

Collector:

But I don't want you to take my coat.

Eddie:

[grabs her by the collar] Listen, buster, I'm under strict instructions not to let anyone in with their coats on.

[The collector shakes Eddie off. He punches her. She knees him in the groin. Eddie winces and punches her again. She hits him with her tin.]

Eddie:

Look, d'you wanna come in or not?

Collector:

No, I don't, I'm collecting for the needy. [rattles tin] This is for victims of domestic violence.

Eddie:

Ooh! Ta very much.

[Eddie takes the tin, produces a mallet from behind his back, and hits her with it. She falls down the stairs. Dogs bark below.]

Looks like a bit of a nasty one!

[He shakes some money out of the tin and throws it down after her.]

Have some yourself, dearie.

Richie:

Good evening, my dear. And if I might say so, what a charming blouse you've got on.

[He wiggles his hips doorward, and we see he has taken off his trousers revealing his huge underpants.]

Where is she?

Eddie:

False alarm Richie, it was a do-gooder.

Richie:

[putting pants back on] Oh great! How much did you make?

Eddie:

[peering into the tin] Looks like about ten quid.

Richie:

Oh, great.

Eddie:

Ooh, and a bit of her coat.

Richie:

Ooh, well, you'd better put it with the other bits.

Eddie:

Right-o.

Richie:

You know what they say... charity begins at home!

Eddie:

Yep, and that's where it ends in our house.

[Eddie puts the tin away in a cupboard full of collecting-boxes and tins. Richie walks over to the kitchen.]

Richie:

W-w-w-w-w-wa-wa-wait-wait, wait, wait, what is this? You haven't even cleaned these bowls out Eddie.

[He starts scraping the bowls out into the bin.]

Richie:

It's disgusting, do I have to do everything myself? I mean, what is this stuff?

Eddie:

That's the caviar.

Richie:

What?

Eddie:

Yeah, there's about two hundred quid's worth there, that's about half a kidney.

Richie:

Ooh, oh-oh, so it is, yes. [starts picking it back out of the bin] Yes. They, they've changed the design a little bit, haven't they? That's very novel and interesting. There, that'll do, no one'll notice. Now, Eddie, have you strained your vegetables?

Eddie:

No, it's just these hired trousers are a bit tight.

Richie:

Well, come on, get on with it. Look, you haven't even mashed the potatoes. Where is the potato-masher?

Eddie:

Well, Harry 'I'll-do-anything-for-half-a-pint' Grundy's still got it.

Richie:

Has he, has he still got it?

Eddie:

Yeah, they couldn't get it out of him at the hospital, remember?

Richie:

Oh, that's right, yes. Well, you'll just have to use your head.

Eddie:

What do you mean?

Richie:

This.

[He grabs Eddie and pushes his face down into the saucepan, mashing it around. There is a discreet cough from behind them. Eddie puts up his hands and pulls off the pan with a pop. His face and glasses are covered in mashed potato.]

Natasha:

Good evening, I am Natasha. I'm sorry I'm late, but there was a dead body on the stairs. [to Eddie] You must be the Duke of Kiddiminster? They told me you were loopy.

Eddie:

Dhooow, well...

Richie:

Oh, no, no, no, no. [elbows Eddie in the groin] No, my dear, I am His Dukeness. This is merely Jives, my butler.

Eddie:

That's right, I'm Bruce Wayne.

Richie:

Come on, Eddie, do your stuff.

Eddie:

Right.

[He elbows Richie in the groin and takes Natasha's coat from her.]

Eddie:

Charming evening, your ma-a-a-a-am.

[He peers at her over his potato-stained glasses.]

Richie:

Get off, get off, she's mine. [bashing him with his umbrella] Get back to the kitchen. [more bashing]

Natasha:

It's so nice to meet genuine aristocracy for a change.

Richie:

Ah-haaw.

Natasha:

There are so many fakers.

Richie:

Yes, you're not wrong there, m'dear. Er, come through to the polo lounge.

[He offers her his arm; she raises hers also in immitation. They go through to the lounge and sit down. Richie takes a silver covered dish.]

Richie:

Polo? [lifts the lid]

Natasha:

[taking one] Thank you. [popping it down the front of her dress] Charming flat.

Richie:

Oh, d'you think so? Oh, this is just my London pomme-de-terre. My main castles are scattered all over the place, you know, 'cause I never know where I'm going to be... bloody foxhunts go on for ever these days, don't you find? Never know where you're going to end up. Start off in Berkshire, end up in, ah, eh... eh, Twatshire.

Eddie:

Would madam care for a hors d'oeuvre?

Richie:

Eddie! Don't be so foul! Get back to your kitchen!

[Richie chases Eddie back into the kitchen, beating him with the umbrella. Eddie lies prone on the floor as Richie hits him, twitching after every blow. Richie rejoins Natasha.]

Richie:

Ha-ha-haa.

Natasha:

Yes, we only have the one castle in Moldavia too.

Richie:

[whistfully] But oh, but oh, but oh, oh, oh, but, but oh. Natasha, you are so beautiful... and, if I may say so, what a charming smashing blouse you have on.

Natasha:

It's a dress.

Richie:

Hhuh? [aside] Shit! Well, er, eh-he, er, Eddie... Jives.

Eddie:

Er, yes sir?

Richie:

What was it Shakespeare used to say?

Eddie:

Erm... 'Hello my dear, I'm a playwright you know. Go on, give us a snog.'

Richie:

No, Eddie!

Eddie:

Erm... 'Where's my quill? Bloody hell, I bought five yesterday! Where do they all go?'

Richie:

Ahh, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. No, really, what was it he used to say?

Eddie:

'What d'you mean it's crap? There's eight bodies at the end and he gets to shag his mum!'

Richie:

[elbows him] Eh, eh, it's on the tip of my tongue, erm, eh... Oh who cares what he said, the git's dead anyway!

Natasha:

He said that, did he?

Richie:

Wh... yes he did, actually. Henry the Nineteenth, Act Four Scene Eight.

Eddie:

Ah-hem-hem-hem.

[Eddie proudly rings a very small gong. Clonk.]

Eddie:

[announcing] Dinner is served.

Richie:

Eddie, are you mad? We're not sitting at the table yet. Come on, we'd better hurry or he'll wolf the lot.

[He offers his arm, she raises hers once again in kind, and they walk into the kitchen. Richie sits Natasha at the table and sits down heavily.]

Eddie:

[servering] Squashed potatoes?

Richie:

Very possibly, Eddie, I think I just sat down too fast.

Eddie:

Squashed potatoes, ma-a-a-am?

[Eddie tries to put a dollop of potato on Natasha's plate but it won't come off the spoon. He flicks it increasingly harder.]

Natasha:

Ooh, how deliciously aristocratically eccentric. Ah, I love peasant food.

Richie:

Jives. Jives! Ji-ives!

[Eddie drops the spoon on Natasha's plate.]

Richie:

[quietly] Eddie?

Eddie:

Yes?

Richie:

Have you opened the wine yet?

Eddie:

Yes, I have.

Richie:

Where is it?

Eddie:

Well I opened it half an hour ago, where do you think it is? Hic!

Natasha:

Ah, and caviar!

Richie:

Oh yes, this really is high-class swanky-time. Caviar, ah, I love this stuff.

[Richie takes a big spoonful and starts chewing. His face falls in disgust.]

Richie:

Eddie, what actually is caviar?

Eddie:

It's fish poo, Your Highness.

Richie:

It's what?

Eddie:

It's fish poo, Your Dukeness. It comes out of a very expensive... fishes... bottom.

Richie:

[spitting it out] God, I knew the aristocracy were depraved but I didn't think things had got this far! What's for dessert... peacock's vomit?

Eddie:

[offering to Natasha] Pork?

Richie:

Eddie, how dare you? She is my fiancee!

Eddie:

I was only asking her if she wanted a portion!

Richie:

Oh! [to Natasha] Excuse us a moment. Eddie!

[They go into the kitchen and Richie pulls the curtain across. We hear the sounds of blows being delivered as the curtain twitches. Eddie pulls the curtain back. Richie is lying on the floor.]

[to Eddie] And let that be a lesson... hang on, this isn't right!

[Eddie closes the curtain again, fight resumes, and Richie pulls back the curtain. Eddie is lying on the floor half upside down against the cupboards.]

Richie:

Don't let it happen again! And let that be a lesson to you!

Natasha:

That was delicious.

Richie:

[now returned to the table, about to dig in] Oh, you've eaten... everything. Well done. That's very brave. In that case it's time to... Oh, Natasha. That is your name, isn't it?

Natasha:

Yes.

Richie:

Oh, right. Oh, Natasha. I know it's a bit sudden but... I love you. I love you with all my heart, and all my soul, and all my... [looks down] you know. I know it's mad, and I know it's crazy, and I know it's wild even but... [kneels] Will you marry me?

Natasha:

Yes.

Richie:

You don't have to be like that... pardon?

Natasha:

I said yes, of course I will marry you, but not because all of my family's assets have been wiped out in the civil war in Moldavia and we are now penniless...

Richie:

No, no, d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d, never mind about all that now! Did you just say 'yes'?

Natasha:

Yes.

Richie:

[relieved] Hah... [eyebrow raises, crafty look] ahhh-haaahhh! Er, Natasha, do you believe in sex before marriage?

Natasha:

Yes.

Richie:

[tentative] Would you, would you... practice it?

Natasha:

Yes, I would.

Richie:

[panting] Would you mind signing something to that effect? You know, just an informal agreement between the two of us... but legally binding, obviously!

Natasha:

Sure.

Richie:

Hwo-hoo-hoooh! Bloody hell! Eddie, I think I must be hallucinating!

Eddie:

Well, we'll soon find out.

[Eddie picks up a fork, sticks it in Richie's eye, and pulls it out.]

Eddie:

Now, did that hurt?

Richie:

Yes, mightily.

Eddie:

Right, well then you're not hallucinating.

Richie:

Right. God, then it's actually true. Tonight's the night. I'm gonna actually do-o-o-o it! Oh God, it's so romantic, it's, it's... Excuse me, you did definitely say that the two of us are definitely going to... do it?

Natasha:

Of course, my darling dreamboat. Why, haven't you done it before?

Richie:

No, never. I-I mean yes, of course, of course, I do it all the time! Ha, ha, I've already had it off twenty times today. Ha, have-it-off, have-it-off, have-it-off, ha, that's all I do! 'What, are we gonna have if off again are we? Oh-h, oh all right then.' Well. I'd better nip upstairs and slip into something more comfortable. [in her ear] Upstairs, five minutes, second door on the right. Don't forget to knock because I don't want you to see me in my underpants. Well, actually you're going to see everything, aren't you, so I don't suppose it really matters, ha ha. Might as well get it out now! [Richie makes to drop his pants.]

Eddie:

No, Richie! Don't spoil the atmos.

Richie:

You're right, Eddie. I've got to think more romantic. Well, I'll just pop upstairs then and... scrape off the sheets. See you in a mo. A... sex mo.

[Richie leaves and then burst back in.]

Richie:

Look, this isn't some sort of joke, is it?

Natasha:

No, my love, it is the real thing. [kisses him on the cheek] A bientôt.

Richie:

Bloody hell! A bianto! Saucy bitch! [leaves]

Eddie:

Wait a minute, what's going on here? To marry that you'd either have to be clinically insane or on the make. Now then. [rests his foot on Natasha's chair] Which is it? If you're just here to emotionally cripple my friend Richie... then that's perfectly all right with me.

Natasha:

But I have to marry the first stupidly wealthy aristocrat I can find or else my whole family will be impoverished for ever! And I so hate poor people.

Eddie:

Well. If that's the case, I've got a few quid flying about the place you know. [takes some coins from his pocket and tosses them away carelessly] See? And if it's stupidity you're after, well, there's no one more stupid than the Hitlers! [smashes a plate on his forehead]

Natasha:

I am tempted, Eddie, but I am already betrothed to another. But if anything should happen to Richie I'll be onto you and up your trouser-leg like a whippet!

[Eddie puffs mightily and faints backwards.]

Richie:

Right, now, where did I put that sex manual? [pulls out 'More Joy Of Sex' from under the mattress] Might as well get some practice in before she gets here! Right, here we go... Page One. For-e-play. Right, here we go. [twiddles his finger in front of him, apparently trying to follow instructions in book] Fifteen minutes. Not much in it for me, is there? Nah, must be a misprint, must mean seconds. Right, that's that. [turns the page, is shocked] Bloody hell! Things are hotting up now. Hu... I don't think I've got time to grow a beard! [fingering his chin] Hang on! [looks from a different angle] That's not a beard! Ergh! I hope he's cleaned his teeth! Right, here we go then. One leg there... and her leg... round here... Hworgh!

Natasha:

[outside the door] Richie, my darling, are you ready yet?

Richie:

Er... hang on a moment. I think I've got to change my pajama bottoms.

Natasha:

What? Oh, you silly boy, you won't need pajamas, my darling. Not unless you want to tie me up?

Richie:

[opens door, looks like he's melting] Hah, der guu saingn saga snurghesa sagahm shergoo schnsaga shhahaagn... [straightens out] I'm sorry, I've forgotten how to talk. Huh, come in, come in.

Natasha:

Oh. This is a very... sexy room. I bet you've been naughty in here a few times.

Richie:

Oh yes, oh you're not wrong there. You name it... swearing, doodling on the walls... I've flicked the V's out of that window more times than I care to remember!

Natasha:

And are you going to be naughty now?

Richie:

Ah, ah, medically I think the chances are against it. I though perhaps we could just sit and chat for a couple of... hours... and eh, eh, Esk... ee... moes... are... very... interesting people, aren't they? I've always thought it rather fortunate that there isn't an animal called an ig. 'Cause he'd probably keep going to the toilet in their houses.

[Natasha kisses him, hard, on the lips.]

You ever thought that? [another kiss] Apparently not.

We're going to have to put some practice in, aren't we? Your tongue slipped into my mouth just then.

Natasha:

[turning her back to Richie] Unzip me!

[Richie bends down behind her and comes back up, his hands limp, fingers not working right.]

Richie:

Ung! [looking at his fingers] Come on, come on!

[He pulls down the zip and retreats to the other side of the room. We hear the rustle of the dress and then assorted items of clothing come flying across the room... a shoe, a stocking, a bra, a pair of knickers.]

Natasha:

[lying in the bed, under sheets, lifting sheet open to Richie] Come on then, big boy.

Richie:

Who? Where? Oh, [looking down at himself] it was a joke, hahaha!

Natasha:

Come on, I want you!

Richie:

Ah-ahhh-haa... This is it, it's going to happen. [advancing towards the bed] Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah, ah-haa-ahaah ahh ahh-- Urlggh! [clutches his chest] No! Ung, ah, uh, urhh...

[He crashes to the floor. Cut to an ambulance's flashing blue light.]

Eddie:

P-pfff. Hwoh. It's a very pretty colour, this ambulance, isn't it? Hey, that was a bit of a close thing, wasn't it Richie?

Richie:

You're telling me. I was within two feet of it. She was lying in my bed, completely naked, saying 'Come on Richie, do it to me.' Oh! I'll tell you what, Eddie.

Eddie:

What?

Richie:

I reckon I could have had her.

Eddie:

Really.

Richie:

If my stupid ticker hadn't give out, I'll tell you what, she could have had my cherry.

Eddie:

Well, don't you worry, Richie. She was crap anyway.

Richie:

What?

Eddie:

[guiltily] Yeah, well, you know, I mean, we, we got bored, waiting for the ambulance to turn up and, er... Hoo, can you believe it? Five hours! I mean, I was totally exhausted. [makes up-and-down gesture]

Richie:

What?

Eddie:

Oh, and by the way. It wasn't your heart, no. You know that cheap surgeon I arranged for the kidney job, well, hoh...

Richie:

Yeah?

Eddie:

Apparently he wired your kidney and your bladder up back to front. And the whole system backfired.

Richie:

[weakly] Eddie.

Eddie:

[kindly] What?

Richie:

Pass the heart resuscitator, would you?

Eddie:

Aw, all right then. There you go. [sits facing away] Feeling poorly again are you?

Richie:

No. You are!

[Richie puts the pads to Eddie's head and presses. Sparks fly. Freeze- frame, roll credits.]