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CULTURE

Series 2, Episode 2
October 8, 1992

Written by
ADRIAN EDMONDSON and RIK MAYALL

Eddie:

Right. Ironmonger.

Richie:

Hmm. How many letters?

Eddie:

Er... ten.

Richie:

Right. What does it begin with?

Eddie:

Well... 'I'.

Richie:

Well, write it down then.

Eddie:

No, 'ironmonger' begins with 'I', that's the clue.

Richie:

So put it down!

Eddie:

But there's only room for six letters!

Richie:

[thinks] You'll have to spell it wrong.

Eddie:

All right... er... 'V'... 'Z'...

Richie:

So what have you got?

Eddie:

'Vzzbux'.

Richie:

Good, good start. Good. How does that help us with two down?

Eddie:

Erm... all right, two down... erm... 'Fish', four letters, now begins with... 'X'.

Richie:

'X'? ...Xylophone, xylophone fish.

Both:

[think] Nah, it'd sink, wouldn't it.

Richie:

[sighs] You know, I'm not sure that 'vzzbux' is right.

Eddie:

Mmmmm.

Richie:

Hey, I'll tell you what! Why don't we think of another word that means ironmonger but only has six letters?

Eddie:

Ha! Well, that'd be cheating, wouldn't it?

Richie:

Who's to know?

Eddie:

Ha! You're right, me old pal, hahahaa! We get through a few scrapes, don't we?

Richie:

Yeah... So, where are we?

Eddie:

Er, right. 'Ironmonger', six letters. ...Oh, got it! 'Harold'.

Richie:

Ha... 'Harold'?

Eddie:

Yeah, well he's an ironmonger, isn't he? Harold the Ironmonger. Remember? We ate his dog!

Richie:

Oh right, yeah-he-heah! We bloody won that bet, didn't we?

Eddie:

No we didn't, that's why we had to eat his dog.

Richie:

Oh, oh yeah, right. Okay, well, 'Harold' it is.

Eddie:

Right.

Richie:

No, hang on, hang on, hang on... 'Harold' only has five letters.

Eddie:

Well, I could make the 'H' really big so that it filled out the first two squares.

Richie:

Weeeell, are there any words dangling off the first two squares?

Eddie:

Nope, you're all right there, mate, the only one we've got so far is 'Vzzbux".

Richie:

All right! Bung it in, buster!

Eddie:

Right then. Huh, ah... well, there's no room for the 'D'!

Richie:

Oh, for goodness sake, who prints these things?

Eddie:

Ohhh.

Richie:

What is the point of having a clue if it doesn't fit the little holes?

Eddie:

I think I'll just put 'bollocks'.

Richie:

Oh... no, no, no, come on Eddie. Let's do it properly, or not at all.

Eddie:

All right then, not at all! [tears up the newspaper, and throws it over shoulder] God, I hate crosswords.

[sighs]

We can't go on like this! Why did they take the telly away?!

[The camera pulls back to reveal the empty table, a television-shaped outline remaining in the dust and crap.]

Richie:

You know very well why they took the telly away.

Eddie:

No, I don't.

Richie:

Yes, you do, Edward Hitler. They took the telly away because according to you, while you were wending your merry way down to the telly shop with the rent money, you ran into a rather strange and wizened old man, who sold you five magic beans. Which, coincidentally, cost exactly the eighty-six pound twenty-three we owe in back rent to Rumbelows.

Eddie:

They are magic beans, you know.

Richie:

Oh yes. And here... is the magic beanstalk. [holds up an empty flower-pot] Well, I'm glad I've got a head for heights because it's a whopper, isn't it? We shall be needing oxygen masks before we get to the top of that one, won't we, Sir Edmund?

Eddie:

Well, it wasn't me who let us get behind with the rental, was it? How did we get eighty-six pounds twenty-three pence behind in the first place?

Richie:

[worried] Err-r-r, all right, all right, let's change the subject. It's irrelevant... in fact I forgive you.

Eddie:

It wasn't me who bypassed Rumbelows every week for the last three months, saved up the eighty-six pounds twenty-three pence, and took it five doors along to Dr. O'Grady's Personal Organ Enhancement Clinic, was it?

Richie:

Eh, cup of tea Eddie? Or some money?

Eddie:

We haven't got any money, that's the problem!

Richie:

Hey, I know, let's have a no-talking competition!

Eddie:

'For a mere eighty-five pounds...'

Richie:

Oh god.

Eddie:

'For a mere eighty-five pounds, you too can have your personal organ enhanced so that it is comparable in size to that of a fully-grown mountain gorilla.'

Richie:

Yes, and when he said 'comparable in size' I didn't realise he meant 'an awful lot smaller than'!

Eddie:

You mean it didn't work?

Richie:

Well, I mean, yes, he did enhance it temporarily. But when it said on the door 'Revolutionary new enlargement technique', I didn't realise he was just going to stick me in a cubicle for half an hour with a copy of Razzle! Eighty-five quid! I could have been watching Emmerdale Farm now.

Eddie:

Yeah... and then you could have got one for free! [forearm gesture]

Richie:

All right, all right, look. We're both to blame. Why don't we just stop talking about it and sit down nicely and watch the... oh bugger! [sobs] Oh come on Eddie, this is silly. There must be more to life than telly.

[Eddie shrugs blankly]

You're right, there isn't!

Eddie:

[sighs] This is unbearable. We could be missing a Watchdog special on faulty bikinis.

Richie:

Oh, don't. [sighs] Right, come on, Eddie. We should try and be positive about the lack of telly. We should treat this as an educational, spiritual and cultural plus. So... tiddly-winks?

Eddie:

No, no, no, we ended up in hospital last time, remember?

Richie:

True. Oh, what a sad and tragic waste of a young, attractive life. Oohhh. [leans on the organ, horrible screeching chord] Hey! That's it! [claps] What about 'pin the tail on the donkey'?

Eddie:

We haven't got a donkey.

Richie:

Well, ah, 'pin the tail on the chicken'.

Eddie:

We haven't got a tail.

Richie:

Oh. Well, 'pin the sausage on the chicken'.

Eddie:

We haven't got a chicken.

Richie:

Well... 'pin the sausage on the fridge'!

Eddie:

Or a pin.

Richie:

'Sellotape a sausage to the fridge'!

Eddie:

We haven't got a sausage!

Richie:

'Put a bit of sellotape on the fridge'!

Eddie:

It's not much of a game, is it?

Richie:

What d'you mean? You have to do it blindfold.

Eddie:

But we haven't even got a blindfold!

Richie:

Well then we'll have to improvise, won't we Eddie?

[Richie removes Eddie's glasses, pokes him in the eyes, and replaces the glasses.]

Okay?

Eddie:

[sighs] All right. Give me a bit of sellotape and I shall stick it on the fridge.

Richie:

Here you are. Ooh, look out, it's the last bit, better be careful.

[Eddie sighs, and walks towards the fridge, the sellotape held out in front of him. He easily sticks it carefully on the fridge and steps back.]

Eddie:

Is that it then?

Richie:

Yeah.

Eddie:

Who won?

Richie:

Dhoh, ha ha ha ha. Eddie, it matters not who won or lost but how you played the game.

Eddie:

Oh, you mean I won? Ha! Ha-ha. [wets his finger, draws a figure 1 in the air, waves his hands in the air]

Richie:

Yes, I suppose so, yeah, I mean if it's so important to you, yes. Yes, you did win. I mean for heaven's sake, Eddie, it's only a game! [walking away, saying to himself] Shit, shit, VD VD VD! Why do I bloody lose everything always?

[an idea] So, ah, you think you're good at games do you, big boy? Well what about a real game? A game of champions. The clash of the great big minds. The battle of the Titans!

Eddie:

You don't mean...

Richie:

Yes!

Eddie:

A 'see how much custard you can hold in your underpants' competition?

Richie:

Yeah... no! Although that's a bloody good idea!

Eddie:

Ha-ha.

Richie:

Might come onto that later if my idea doesn't work out.

Eddie:

Okay.

Richie:

Although this time I really think we ought to let the custard cool down a little first.

Eddie:

And that handstand rule is a complete disaster.

Richie:

Hmm. Apart from that, bloody good game!

Eddie:

Absolutely. Mind you, you always have a considerable advantage, because your underpants are so stupendously huge.

Richie:

Too right, matey! Okay, may the best man win!

[Wobbly dream-type transition into the custardy-pants contest. Rik is staggering about, his stupendously huge underpants full to the brim.]

So it's agreed then... I'm the winner!

[Eddie is sitting on the sofa. There is custard everywhere... all over him, dripping from the ceiling...]

Eddie:

Yeah, all right.

Richie:

Well, I told you not to sit down!

[Wobble back to normal. Eddie and Richie are cleaning up, mopping down the sofa.]

Richie:

Right. So... you won the stick-the-piece-of-sellotape-on-the- fridge competition and I won the custardy-pants tournament. That makes it, er... ooh, one-all. Right. Time for a tie-breaker.

Eddie:

It's ten o'clock now. Probably missing a Late Show special on lesbian art.

Richie:

How do you feel about trying your luck, Eddie?

Eddie:

No, I'm not going out now. Even if I did score me underpants are all custardy.

Richie:

No, I mean what about a game of... chess?

Eddie:

[looking worried] Chess? [looks out of the window] We haven't got a chess set, have we?

Richie:

Of course we have, you silly-billy. There's my antique chess set that my great-auntie Dorothy left me.I've got it safely under lock and key in my strong-box because it's so valuable.

Well, don't look! I'm getting my key from the secret place.

Eddie:

[whispers to camera] Behind the radio.

[Richie rummages behind the radio on the shelf.]

Richie:

Hang on a minute, what's the key doing embedded in this cake of soap? That's a bit dangerous, isn't it? Someone could take a copy of it from that!

[Eddie takes a key from his pocket, holds it up, and swallows it with some difficulty.]

Richie:

I shall speak to the cleaning lady.

Eddie:

We haven't got a cleaning lady!

Richie:

Well, I must get one and speak to her. [gets out his strong-box]

Ah, here we are! [pats it lovingly] This chess set was at Waterloo, you know. Wellington played on it the night before the big fight. All the men are carved out of antique ivory, and they're worth seventy-five quid each, according to my great-aunt Dorothy. [opens it, looks in, slams it shut] Eddie! Where have all the pieces gone?

Eddie:

[clears his throat theatrically] Pardon?

Richie:

This is ridiculous! There's only five pieces left!

Eddie:

Well, are you sure Wellington put them all back when he'd finished?

Richie:

Well of course he did, he wasn't a stupid man, he invented the Chelsea boot.

Eddie:

Well, never mind, Richie, I'm sure we'll manage somehow. I mean, we are British, after all!

Richie:

Yes. That's right Eddie. That's the spirit, haha! I'd like to see some spic play a game of chess with only five pieces. Right, what colour do you want to be... black or white?

Eddie:

[peers into the box] White.

Richie:

Right, you win, there are no black pieces left.

Eddie:

Haha, hurray!

Richie:

Well, that was fun. What shall we do now?

Eddie:

This time we play with a full deck.

Richie:

But we've only got five pieces.

Eddie:

We can use other things for the missing pieces.

Richie:

Hoh, great idea!

Eddie:

Now let's see... we need sixteen prawns. Well, we're in luck there, we've got a bag in the freezer that are four years past their sell-by date, we can use those.

Richie:

Ahhh, oh chess! God, I adore chess! I should have been a chess champion. If I'd spent my whole life learning how to play chess better than everyone else in the world I could have been the chess champion. And I look a bit Slavic, don't you think? [pulls face]

Eddie:

What's this pot of cress doing in the fridge?

Richie:

That's not cress, that's that yoghurt you started during the Gulf War.

Eddie:

Well you could have told me! Might as well finish it.

Richie:

Ho, yeah, a bit of chess. Hah, gad, if only I had a smoking-jacket. Eh... hang on! [leaves]

[Eddie digs into his pot of greenery, lifts out a spoonful and chews it.]

Eddie:

Doesn't taste like banana and peach.

[Richie comes back in, wearing his raincoat, which has a sort of quilted lining, inside-out.]

Richie:

Da-dah! What do you think, Eddie?

Eddie:

I think you've got your raincoat on inside-out. Are you off? I thought we were playing chess.

Richie:

No, no, no, it's a smoking-jacket, look, the quilting. All the sophisticated people are wearing them.

Eddie:

Well, why have you got one on then? Anyway, you don't smoke.

Richie:

And nor does my jacket. Ah-ha, ah-hahaha! Oh God! Oh, I feel just like Noel Wilde today.

[Eddie puts a bottle of sauce down on the chessboard.]

Eddie:

Right, here we go then. Now, that can be the king. Well, it has to be, doesn't it? I mean, it's brown sauce.

Richie:

Ah. [acting] 'Cigarette, my dear?' 'Don't mind if I do, my dear.' 'Have a bit of a biro to smoke it through.' 'Oh, ta very much. Mm, thought your new play was great, by the way.' 'Oh, there's only one thing better than having a great play, and that's having... two great plays.' 'That doesn't make any sense, Oscar.' 'I know, none of my stuff does you know. Hahaa.' 'Nice bit of biro by the way.' 'Ta very much.'

[He takes a drag of his cigarette, using a biro tube as a holder, breathes smoke out through his nostrils, and chokes.]

[coughing] Nice.

[Richie's side of the chessboard is populated with a wild assortment of objects: a plastic skeleton, a plastic tomato-shaped sauce bottle, a sausage, a cactus wearing a paper crown, the brown sauce, a Cluedo piece, a bottle of food colouring, a large plastic Spiderman. A row of frozen prawns serve as pawns for each player. Eddie completes his pieces with a mouldy pear and an apple pierced by a nail.]

Eddie:

Right then, all set. A little unconventional, but most of it's fresh.

Richie:

Hoh, oh, Eddie, Eddie this is so sophisticated, isn't it?

Eddie:

Ha.

Richie:

I feel just like Lord Byron. And that other bloke, you know, Earl Thingy, with the long dressing-gown and the flappy stuff around his chin.

Eddie:

Really? 'Cause you look like a stupid git with his raincoat on inside out.

Richie:

Oh, Eddie, this is fantastic. Chess is the best idea we ever had. And it was one of mine, wasn't it? [deep breath] Right, this has got to be perfect. It's just two guys, right, no chicks, it's just man to man. Cultured. Urbane. Civilised. Male stuff. And I'm not being funny. Right, what do we need? Twiglets. You know, high society stuff, little dishes of nosey-picks scattered around the place.

Eddie:

Olives!

Richie:

Hey Eddie, you're catching on. Great idea!

Eddie:

Erm, we haven't got any olives. What about prunes?

Richie:

Well they look like olives, don't they, and they make you regular!

Eddie:

Tin of prunes, coming right up, Mr Byron.

Richie:

Right! Let's have a cocktail. Right, what would James Bond have?

Eddie:

Well, he'd have a load of birds 'round his gaff, and a corset on so no-one would guess he was sixty.

Richie:

Vodka martini, that's it, vodka martini. Shaken about the place but not spilt.

Eddie:

Right. Now how d'you make a vodka martini?

Richie:

Err... Well, it's got to have some vodka in it, hasn't it, and, er, what about vodka and, erm... martini? Or is that being too stupid?

Eddie:

We haven't got any vodka and we haven't got any martini.

Richie:

Oh. Well what have we got?

Eddie:

We've got... a wee drop of Pernod and half a bottle of ouzo.

Richie:

Well, that'll do nicely! And don't forget to put a bit of salt around the rim.

Eddie:

[confused] I beg your pardon?

Richie:

Oh, come on, Eddie, I know what I'm talking about. Everybody in Hollywood does it.

Eddie:

I think I'll just put a bit of salt round the edge of the glass, if it's all the same to you.

Richie:

[looking out of the window] Ah, perfect.

[calls evidently to an unseen neighbour] Ah-ha-ha-ha-haar, watching your tellies are you? Addling your brains? We're having an evening of culture and poetry and chess you know, while you're sitting there vegetating in front of Emmerdale Farm, you poor sad peasants. Ha! [changing tone suddenly] What's happened by the way? Has Matt sorted out that problem with Amos in t'top field? ...Pardon? ...No I have not, it's a smoking-jacket! You ignorant git!

[Richie closes the window and takes off his raincoat. He walks over to the table.]

Richie:

Eddie, it's a shame we have to live in this area, it really is. Oh! Have we got any glace cherries?

Eddie:

No, I don't think we have.

Richie:

Well, bung a blob of marmalade in then, no one will know.

Eddie:

A little taste... [sips] Dhhhhh! Ha-aaah! Right, here you go, skip-matey me old flapper, and the very best of luck to you, and I mean that very, very sincerely.

Richie:

Right! Cheers. Ooh no, before you start drinking, as this is a special occasion, I... ooh, do you think we should dim the lights?

Eddie:

Erm, well, we haven't got a dimmer. Shall I get my hammer?

Richie:

No, no-no, we'll just narrow our eyes a bit.

Eddie:

All right.

Richie:

Right. [through narrowed eyes] Where are you?

Eddie:

I think I'm over here.

Richie:

Oh, there you are, right-right-right. Now, as I was saying, as this is a special occasion, and we've invented a new cocktail for ourselves... Pernod, ouzo, marmalade and salt... I think we should think of a special name for it. What do you think?

Eddie:

What about the, er, oh, the Bloody... Awful.

Richie:

Oh, come on, Eddie, take it seriously...

Eddie:

Oh, got it! The Esther Rantzen.

Richie:

Eh... why?

Eddie:

Because it pulls your gums back over your teeth.

Richie:

All right then, the Esther Rantzen it is. Cheers!

Both:

[drink] Dhhhhhh! Hhh, hhh...

Eddie:

'And on tonight's programme, an interesting misprint that says "penis".'

Richie:

Dhh, ho-hwooh, I see what you mean, yeah, hwooo, hhh. It's sort of lacking something, isn't it? Ah, mm, have we got any umbrellas?

Eddie:

Coming right up.

Richie:

[takes another sip] Dhhh! [gags]

[Eddie comes back with two full-size umbrellas.]

Eddie:

Here we go.

Richie:

Ah!

[They open an umbrella each and sit underneath them.]

Richie:

Oh, this is the life Eddie. Sophisticated living, gentlemen's rooms.

Eddie:

Yes. Here we are, underneath our umbrellas, drinking ouzo and salt, each behind his line of frozen prawns. That's what I love about you Richie.

Richie:

What?

Eddie:

You're completely insane!

Richie:

Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha ha-ha-haaaah! Ah-ha-ha-ho, wl-wl-wl-wl-wll-l-l-l! Oh gosh, I feel great! Of course, you know why I never got married, don't you?

Eddie:

Yep.

Richie:

Yeah, tragic isn't it?

Eddie:

No. Right, shall we get started?

Richie:

Right!

[Eddie reaches out his hand to move...]

Richie:

Oh no! Wait! I know what we need. Music! Of course. What could be better? What shall we have, oooh, James Last? Burt Bacharach? Oh... Molière! Molière! Oh, he could bash out a tune or two. Tum-tum tiddly-tum tum-tum-tum, tum... and the other twiddly bits. He was Scottish, you know.

Eddie:

Who, Vivaldi?

Richie:

No Eddie, I'm talking about composers. Honestly, it's football football football with you, isn't it?

Hey, do you remember that night those girls turned up?

Eddie:

No.

Richie:

Yeah, it was a shame, wasn't it? Mind you, they bloody nearly did.

Eddie:

I think your mistake, Richie, was in turning out the lights on the steps and shouting out 'Grab hold of this, it's the banisters'.

Richie:

Worth a try, Eddie, worth a try. Hhhrrrrrrgh! Great days.

Eddie:

No, they weren't.

Richie:

No, they weren't, were they? [sighs] Well you have to say that, don't you? Come on, hhhrrrrgh, great days!

Eddie:

[limply] Rrrr, great days.

Richie:

Yes they were! Ha, come on, let's go out!

Eddie:

I though we were playing chess, Mr Bond?

Richie:

Oh, yes, of course. Chess, wonderful chess. Ha-haaa. Hey, did I ever tell you about that time my great-uncle Roderick drowned in the Ugugu River?

Eddie:

No.

Richie:

Oh good, it's rather embarrassing. Hoh! Right, let's get on. Ooh, I feel great, bbrr, let's have a dance, ho-hoo, ho-hoo...

Eddie:

Richie, sit down! You're getting over-excited.

Richie:

Oh! Yes, right. Yes, of course. Ha, hrr, ha, hmm, sit down, yeah, hm, good idea. Hm, ahh. Okay. This is it. Everything's ready. Are you ready, Eddie?

Eddie:

Yep.

Richie:

Right, all set.

[Eddie reaches out to move.]

Richie:

Ooh, one more thing?

Eddie:

What?

Richie:

How do you actually play chess?

Eddie:

You don't know how to play chess?

Richie:

Well, no. Ah-ha. But I know how to ride a bike so I'm sure I'll pick it up pretty quick, you know. Just tell me which pieces are mine and which way around the board we go. Do we get any money or anything?

[Eddie sighs and puts his head in his hands.]

Richie:

Right. Let's just go through the rules one more time and then we can start properly.

[Eddie sighs heavily.]

Richie:

Now how does the racehorse move again?

Eddie:

It's not a racehorse, it's a knight.

Richie:

Where's the knight then? [examining horse piece]

Eddie:

Well, he must have fallen off.

Richie:

He's not much of a knight then, is he?

Eddie:

Look, just put it back please.

Richie:

All right, all right... And that one's called a rook.

Eddie:

Yes.

Richie:

Why, does it nest in trees?

Eddie:

No, it's a castle.

Richie:

But it's called a rook.

Eddie:

Yes, some people call it a rook.

Richie:

Well which people? Blind ones?

Eddie:

[thinks] Yes.

Richie:

Oh I see, I see, right. ...But the castle can move, you say?

Eddie:

That's right.

Richie:

Even though it hasn't got any legs.

Eddie:

Yes.

Richie:

Pfft, hahaha. It's not very likely, is it, Eddie. [holds up a sausage] And this, this is also a bishop, you say.

Eddie:

Yes.

Richie:

And he bends sideways.

Eddie:

Correct.

Richie:

Well, there's no surprise there. Wonder what the Church is coming to these days. Right, let me get this sorted out. Now the bent vicar stands next to the queen. [holds up cactus with crown] And the queen goes in every direction.

Eddie:

That's right.

Richie:

And they let children play this, you say? I mean, it's pretty strong stuff, isn't it, Eddie? You know, knights taking prawns, and apparently if a prawn goes all the way he turns into a queen!

Eddie:

Shut up, Richie, and play the game!

Richie:

Okay, okay, let's go. [Eddie sighs] Hey, I know! Let's pretend that I'm James Bond, right, and you're, you're one of the baddies, you know, Q or whoever, and if I lose I have to die.

Eddie:

[looks up with a sudden gleam in his eye] Fair enough.

Richie:

Yeah, great. Yeah, we should have loads and loads of birds around the place, you know, all like Ursula Andress, you know, and everyone's in bikinis. Ah, I'll tell you what, shall I get some of my magazines out?

Eddie:

Richie! I've been here since ten o'clock last night. It's now five o'clock in the morning. We've finished off the Pernod, the ouzo, the Old Spice, even the industrial strength floor cleaner. Three litres of it. I've explained the rules of chess to you one hundred and twenty-four times, and I'm buggered if I'm going to let you delay the game another ten minutes while you scan though a few back copies of Amateur Photographer! Okay? Right. King's prawn to king's prawn four.

[He slams his hand down on the clock at the side of the table, smashing it flat.]

Richie:

Why d'you have to do that?

Eddie:

Shut up, it's your move!

Richie:

My move? Okay.

[Richie studies the board as if sizing up it and opponent, moving back from chair and walking from side to side. He walks out of the door and comes back in through the other door, still pondering. He sits back down at the table.]

Richie:

Yes... yes...

Am I black or white?

Eddie:

You're black!

Richie:

Oh.

Eddie:

You're those ones there!

Richie:

Oh right.

Eddie:

The ones in next to you!!!

Richie:

Right.

Eddie:

Now make your move!

Richie:

All right, all right, don't hustle me. I know your tactics. [to himself] Okay, right, this is it. What would Napoleon do? Lose the battle of Waterloo, that's no good to me. Right, this is it, only one thing for it. Attack! Attack! Attack! Over the top lads! Charge! [machine-gun noise, Richie begins moving all his pieces forward as if playing a war game with toy soldiers] Argh, I'm hit! Oh, oh, get him back! No, leave me here. Oh, my arms and legs have come off. Oh, oh the blood! Oh the horror! I'm getting out of here. Shoot that prawn! [shot noise] Arrrrghhh! Right, everybody, follow me. Du-du-du-du-daa. I can't follow you, I'm a bishop, I have to go sideways. Du-du-du-du-aarrhhgh! [machine-gun] Hurray, it's the Queen's Own Ketchup!

[Richie squirts ketchup out of the plastic tomato over the board, making machine-gun and explosion noises. He notices Eddie watching him and his noises become more uncertain and die away. He puts the tomato down, hits the flattened clock, and gestures his turn is over. The chess board is a huge chaotic mess.]

Eddie:

That's your move, is it?

Richie:

Yep. Get out of that one, Rommel.

[Eddie looks at the board and sighs. He picks up his queen, moves it to the side of the board, then forward, then back, dancing it all around the board, as if jumping all the pieces in a game of draughts, and then gathers up all the pieces and sweeps them in a pile towards himself. Richie looks on in bewilderment.]

Eddie:

Check-mate.

[Richie punches him in the face. Eddie falls backwards off his chair. The chess pieces fly out of his arms. He staggers to his feet and pushes the table over. Its edge lands on Richie's toes.]

Richie:

Aaaargh, aaargh, aaargh!

[Eddie smashes him with a chair. Richie gets up, holding an umbrella, fingering the tip to check sharpness, and advances towards Eddie. Eddie holds the broken frame of the chair like a shield but Richie drives the umbrella in underneath it, into his groin.]

Eddie:

Aaaaaaahhh!

[Richie drives him backwards, opening and closing the umbrella, backing him against the fridge. Eddie manages to pick up a frying-pan and beat Richie off. He pulls the umbrella out of his groin, holds it up to inspect it, and notices that the tip is missing. He looks at the camera, shocked, then beats Richie with the frying-pan. Richie ends up kneeling in front of the fridge. Eddie grabs him by the hair.]

Richie:

Oh, no, no!

[Eddie puts Richie's head into the fridge and procedes with repeatedly slamming the door shut on it. Richie convulses and twitches, gradually less and less.]

Eddie:

[to camera, while still smashing Richie's head with the fridge door.] You know, it's funny. They say that television encourages violence. But I'm smashing his face in, and we haven't got one!

[Richie struggles to his feet, face bruised and nose bleeding.]

Richie:

[to camera] Well, that's where he's wrong, listeners, 'cause in fact we do have a telly. And here it is! [holds up a telly]

Eddie:

Well, where did that come from?

Richie:

It was behind the fridge all the time. I hid it when the chaps from Rumbelows came round.

Eddie:

Well, why didn't you tell me? I could have been watching television all night.

Richie:

Well, I don't know, I thought it would be interesting, you know, to spend an evening without the telly for once. We could chat a bit more. You know, it's good for our relationship, to get a bit of interaction going.

Eddie:

Well... if it's interaction you want... cop a load of this, matey!

[Eddie takes the television and smashes it down over Richie's head. Freeze-frame, roll credits.]