Bottom

BREAK

Series 3, Episode 3,
January 20, 1995

  Written by
ADRIAN EDMONDSON and RIK MAYALL

Richie:

Who would have believed it?! A late booking, stand by, seventy five percent discount. You see, that's what you get for haggling, you see, Eddie.

Eddie:

What? A kick in the bollocks?

Richie:

What do you mean? He was merely falling over and steadied himself by putting his boot into my testicles.

[He grabs his crotch and moves it around.]

Ow, ow...

Anyway, there's no arguing with that! A seventy five percent discount on a heat seeker's bronze-a-thon. Nine day special of sun, sea, sand and sex!

Eddie:

Yeah! Bridlington won't know what's hit it!

Richie:

[Indicating text on the tickets.] Yeah, look at that! Only twenty-five minutes to the beach...

Eddie:

Oooh!

Richie:

...by car.

Eddie:

I thought Bridlington was on the coast.

Richie:

Well it is!

Eddie:

So what it really means, is twenty-five minutes from Bridlington.

Richie:

[Shrugs] What's the address?

Eddie:

Doncaster.

Richie:

Well, I've never been there... But it sounds romantic.

[They both sit at the table.]

And hey, Eddie! It's got a 'Dong' in it! Lucky omen!

Eddie:

Yeah, we're in the luck all right, I mean, imagine if Dick the barman hadn't spotted us filling our glasses from the drip tray, we'd never have scarpered down that back ally and bumped into 'Dodgy' Bob McMayday, the most violent travel agent in the world.

Richie:

Just imagine, it only cost us four thousand pounds!

Eddie:

YEAH! ... We haven't actually got four thousand pounds, have we?

Richie:

Well, yes yes yes yes yes, but that's why he gave us such an interesting deal!

Eddie:

What? Turn up with the money by Christmas or we die?

Richie:

Yeah, yeah! Ooooh! We're going on holiday! [Shakes his head in excitement]

God! It's so exiting!

Right, now the coach leaves at midnight...

Eddie:

Mmmhum.

Richie:

Right, you put the kettle on and I'll make a list of all the things we need to nick for the beach.

Eddie:

Okey-Dokey. [Goes into the kitchen]

Richie:

Number one: sun tan lotion.

Eddie:

Ah, Richie, we're going to Bridlington... Well, Doncaster, I hardly think we'll be needing sun tan lotion.

Richie:

Oh yes, yes, Uhhuh, uhhuh... Drizzle oil, then!

Eddie:

Gloom juice!

Richie:

Yes, yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes, ah, ah, wind smear!

Eddie:

Wind smear? I don't think we need to take the contents of your underpants.

[Richie gets up and joins Eddie in the kitchen.]

Richie:

Well actually, that's where you're wrong, Eddie. 'Cause if you think carefully about it, we will need to 'take the contents of my un-der-pants!'

[Both laugh]

Oh, aren't we having a great time!?

You see, that's what makes the English great, Eddie. You know, laughing at adversity. I mean, if we were millionaires living in Bermuda, we wouldn't have found that very funny, would we!?

[Both think about it for a moment]

Both:

No...

Richie:

Oh well, never mind. What else do we need for the beach?

[Eddie takes the two cups of tea he has made into the lounge and both sit down at the table.]

Eddie:

Ah, tetanus jabs.

Richie:

Ah, yes, yes, better see Doctor Wild-Throat for a booster.

Eddie:

He's not a doctor of medicine, you know.

Richie:

Well I know, yes, but he's cheap.

Eddie:

Gave you rabies last year.

Richie:

Well it only cost three quid. Come on, Eddie, beggars can't be choosers.

Eddie:

No, but they can froth at the mouth and eat the furniture.

Richie:

All right, what else? Err, well, industrial wellingtons, gas masks, well full radiation suits, really.

Eddie:

Yeah.

Richie:

It's not like it was in my childhood. Oooh! Condoms!

Eddie:

Well, we can take last year's can't we?

Richie:

Well have we got any left?

Eddie:

Yeah. All of 'em.

Richie:

Oh! Thank god for that! I just hate going to the chemists... I keep thinking my Mum'll find out. I mean, buying Johnnies is just a CONSTANT embarrassment!

Eddie:

What do you mean? You've only done it once! And that was back in 1977!

Richie:

Hey, hey! It's a bloody convincing performance, though. That shop assistant could have sworn I was French.

Eddie:

Yeah, maybe that's why you came out with fifty tubes of Pile cream as well.

Richie:

Yes, well maybe my mime was a little indistinct, yes, but you know, I mean it was worth the day trip to Birmingham just to find a chemist who didn't know us, you know. I mean, it might have been a long way 'round just to buy a three pack of Johnnies we never use, but I'll tell you what! [bangs the table three times leaps to his feet]

There's been no piles in this house since 1977!

Eddie:

Yep! We can sit down with a thump as merrily as we like.

Richie:

I know! And we've still got the Johnnies as a souvenir!

[Takes a pack of Johnnies from a canister and blows the dust off them]

Eddie:

Hooray!

Richie:

You see, that's what makes the English great, Eddie.

Eddie:

What? Not having piles?

Richie:

Yes!

Eddie:

Richie, you have gone insane!

Richie:

No, no it's all right, Eddie, it's all right, I'm just over exited about the holiday.

[He sits down again, then leaps to his feet and shouts with joy, running his hands over his front, massaging and pinching his nipples]

I wonder what we'll do!?

Eddie:

Well, the same as we normally do. Sit about in the boarding house playing scrabble until the rain lets up, then dash out to the bookie's and back.

Richie:

Oh yeah! Oooh, I can't wait. Hey, do you think the land lady will be anything like the one we had last year?

Eddie:

What? You mean, dead?

Richie:

No, no, no, I mean before the accident.

Eddie:

Oh, oh.

Richie:

Hey, did you ever get your lighter back?

Eddie:

No, they kept it for the inquest.

Richie:

Oh did they, uhh. Oh but she was a sweet-heart wasn't she! Hey, do you remember her last words?

Both:

Oh Mister Hitler, do you know anything about gas leaks?

[Eddie mimes flicking a cigarette lighter three times.]

BOOM!

Eddie:

Still, that was the first time we were warm on that holiday.

Richie:

Yes, yes. Ha ha har.

Eddie:

Har har har.

Richie:

Har har Har.

Eddie:

Ha ha har.

Richie:

Right! Where shall we put the tickets so we can't find them? Ah! Oh no! That was the wrong way 'round, wasn't it. I'm getting so over exited! I'd better have a little sit down. [He does] Da-dah! Another victory for the piles cream! Right, now, where is the safest place in the house?

Eddie:

Well, in the tin with the rubber Johnnies.

Richie:

Of course! You're a genius, Eddie.

[He places the tickets in the canister]

There! [Sighs with relief]

Right, I'm off upstairs to try on my swimming trunks, you know, give them an airing, get them used to the old swagger!

Eddie:

Good, that will give me just enough time to make a deviously fiendish mischievous phone call.

[Richie thinks about it for a moment then shrugs, goes out the door and up the stairs. Eddie nods knowledgeably]

Eddie:

Yeah, that's right, Cher, me proud Hollywood beauty. A two week bunk-up with me in sunny Doncaster. I'll bring the vodka, you bring those saucy bits of string. What do you say? YES!! Oh, god! Oh! Oh! If only this was plugged in!

[He holds up the phone's wall connection plug]

[Richie slowly opens the door in the background]

Richie:

Eddie... Eddie... Help!

[Richie walks slowly and painfully into the room wearing in a gold dressing gown. He makes his way slowly towards Eddie.]

I've got my swimming trunks on.

Eddie:

I have no particular interest in seeing them.

Richie:

No, the only thing is, they're so tight, I can't get 'em off... Feels like I'm being garroted. God, I hope I don't sneeze, I'll be sliced in three!

Eddie:

All right I'll get the pepper, then, and a camera.

Richie:

Eddie! This is no laughing matter! Oh! Oh, Oh, god I mustn't shout, goh... I nearly ingested myself then.

Eddie, you've gotta help me get 'em off.

Eddie:

What! Uh, oh all right, well let's have a look then.

[Richie looks around him, embarrassed then opens the robe]

Oh, there.

[Eddie looks in a trying-not-to-look kind of way, before looking closer, closer and closer then up at Richie]

Eddie:

Well where are they?

Richie:

Well that's the thing! They're so tight, you can't actually see them!

But I know they're on, I can feel them. Oh boy, can I feel them.

[Eddie again closely inspects Richie]

Eddie:

They must be somewhere under all these folds...

Richie:

Yeah.

Eddie:

All right, close, close. Oh god.

[He shields his eyes and tries to think logically]

What colour are they?!

Richie:

Well they were yellow when I put 'em on.

Eddie:

All right, well, turn around'n bend over and I'll get me tool kit.

Richie:

Ok, thanks Eddie. Oh, why did you make me buy a thong, Eddie?

[He turns around and bends over the arm of the sofa.]

Eddie:

Here goes.

[He rams a claw hammer, head first, right up Richie's rear end. Richie tries not to scream]

Yeah! I think I've got a purchase.

[He slowly pulls the hammer back out. The back of the thong is hooked over the claw. Eddie pulls it harder, eventually stretching it out to about fifteen feet before it slips from the claw and flies back, smashing Richie right where it hurts. He collapses in agony.]

Eddie:

Hmm... Dunno... I think we're going to have to burn them off. [Strokes his chin thoughtfully]

Richie:

Anything, Eddie, Anything. Just make it quick, I think I'm losing consciousness; I think my legs are going to sleep!

Eddie:

[Lighting a handy oxyacetylene torch and puts on a pair of welding goggles]

Yeah, well I think this should wake them up.

Richie:

What?

[Eddie lays on his back, sticks his head under Richie's dressing gown and thrusts the oxy torch up at his crotch. Richie screams and we hear the thong break]

Eddie:

Yep, here we go!

[holds up a tiny thing that looks like two elastic bands tied together]

There we are! There's the little fellah that was causing all the trouble!

Richie:

Oh! Oh! Oh, thank god they're off. You know, in future I think I'm just going to have to own up to not being quite a 26 waist any more.

Eddie:

26? What's that in feet? Yards? Miles?

Richie:

I mean look at that! Look at that!

[Holds the thong up and peers at it.]

I mean God! Who invented the thong? Sadist! It's like wrapping cheese wire 'round your tackle. I mean, even though I had it on, I could still be done for indecent exposure!

Hey! That's a thought, Eddie. Do you think Bridlington's topless?

Eddie:

No, Richie, I think you should bring your bra.

Richie:

[Sarcasm] Oh har har har har har. Ahahahahahahr. [mimics a fart of sarcastic hilarity]

Ok, so my pectorals are a little bit flabby at the moment...

Hey, though that is a point, Eddie. You and me, us guys, right, we're going to Bridlington to get laid, right?

Eddie:

Right!

Richie:

One snag, there's not many people going to actually want to shag two fat, balding, sweaty sort of rubber Johnnies full of custard, really are they?

Eddie:

No?

Richie:

No, 'cause we're not rich. So if we want to score, we're going to have to hit that beach like two greased cougars from the planet big-bollocks, who've just been sacked from the Chippendales for being TOO SEXY!

Eddie:

Tricky.

Richie:

Exactement, mon brarve. However, nil desperandum, we're English and there's a way out of everything.

Eddie:

Yep, usually the lavvy window.

Richie:

Shut up. Now, to achieve the bod that birds will kill to wriggle on, we've only got one option.

Eddie:

What? Buy them seventeen gin and tonics and lie about our income?

Richie:

No, Eddie, no. We're going to have to lose some weight.

Eddie:

Wha, why don't you just stay at home?

Richie:

Right, where's my manuals? Here we are.

[consults a bookcase]

Joy of Sex... More Joy of Sex... Cooking in the Nude...

Ah! Here we are! German Luftwaffe airforce exercises!

This book used to belong to my Dad, you know.

Eddie:

Ahha. Was he in the war?

Richie:

Oh very much so, Eddie, very much so, yes. He got hit during the blitz, you know.

Eddie:

Did he?!

Richie:

Oh yes... By an air-raid warden. Yeah, he wouldn't put his light out, you see. Good 'ol Dad, though, he won the fight. Oh, but my Mum and Dad, Eddie... My Mum and Dad. There was a romance. It was one of those fleeting war-time romances, you know. I mean, they were only together for, what...

Eddie:

Five minutes.

Richie:

If that. Yep, ships in the night, Eddie, ships in the night. He was pissed, wandered into the ladies by accident, one thing lead to another, off came her winceyettes, the johnny machine jammed, bim-bam-bom whiff of cordite and he was off.

Eddie:

Ahh well, hey ho, it's all a load of bollocks, isn't it.

Richie:

Yep, it's all a load of bollocks. Come on, twenty Luftwaffe pressups! Let's go!

[They both go into the kitchen and lay down on the floor, in position for doing pushups.]

Right...

And, da, twa, and achtung!

[they don't move a muscle... pause]

How you doing, Eddie? Have you started?

Eddie:

Yeah.

Richie:

How's it going?

Eddie:

Like a dream.

Richie:

What, you mean one of those dreams where you can't do pressups?

Eddie:

That's the one, yes.

Richie:

Well, perhaps we should build up to that one.

[They both start to get up]

Come along, we'll do some situps.

Eddie:

What?

[Richie lays on his back]

Richie:

Situps.

[Eddie reluctantly does the same]

Hands behind the head, and after three... one, two, three, and...

[Both strain, but again don't move.]

No, we'd better skip that one as well.

Eddie:

Uh... It's very heavy going, isn't it. It's a wonder they could get into their aeroplanes after all this. No wonder they lost the bloody war!

Where'd your Dad get this book from? [he takes it]

Richie:

Well it's hard to tell, Eddie. I mean, my Dad... He moved in some very mysterious circles.

Eddie:

Did he?

Richie:

Yes, well he had one leg shorter than the other, you see.

Eddie:

Ahh. Oh, look! There's an inscription:

[in German accent]

"For all zee good verk you are doing for zee cause, keep it up, mums zee word, Adolf."

Richie:

Ahh, my Dad, Oswald Richard, hey! They don't make them like that anymore! [gives the Nazi salute]

Come on Eddie, we've got to change tact. We've only got twelve hours and I've still got to lose three stone. Do you think I should try combining food?

Eddie:

What with? Larger? The telly?

Richie:

No Eddie, I know! I'm going to get me some liposuction!

Eddie:

[Defensive stance] Not from me, your not, matey!

Richie:

Eddie! Get a grip! Come on, get a hold of the hoover and let's do it!

Eddie:

Oh, ohh!

[Eddie goes over to the hoover]

Are you sure this wise?

Richie:

What do you mean wi... Of course it's wise! Eddie, they do this in Hollywood all the time!

Eddie:

Do they?

Richie:

Right, fire 'er up.

Eddie:

Right.

[He steps on the hoover's on button and Richie opens his dressing gown]

Richie:

Ok, now nice gentle circular motions around the hip area.

Eddie:

Right you are.

[He starts hoovering Richie's flab]

Richie:

Ahhh, that's good, that's working. Jolly good.

Eddie:

[laughs merrily and begins to whistle]

[Suddenly there is a horrible sucking noise as a small soft part of Richie's anatomy gets sucked into the hoover's pipe. Eddie tries to pull the pipe away, but it's stuck fast!]

Richie:

Eddie! Put it on blow! PUT IT ON BLOW!!

Eddie:

You dirty, dirty bastard!

Richie:

Quick, Eddie! Hurry! I've nearly reached the bag!

[Eddie steps on the reverse button, Richie screams]

Richie:

You say they do that in Hollywood all the time?

[Eddie shrugs]

Blimey! It's no wonder they're all members of the twelve inch club.

Eddie:

Yeah.

Richie:

It's no good, Eddie. We're going to have to change tact again.

Eddie:

How do you mean?

Richie:

Well, you look around any modern gym, Eddie, what do you see?

Eddie:

Well, loads of birds with those funny underpants that go right up their cracks.

Richie:

No...

Eddie:

They go right up.

Richie:

Yes...

Eddie:

Go rrrright up.

Richie:

Yes, yes. Yes that's lovely, Eddie, that's lovely... But, eh, what else do you see?

Eddie:

I don't see anything else, mate. Not until the police arrive and pry me off the window. I got a good thirty minutes out of that last tube of super glue.

[Mime his face and hands stuck to a window pane]

Richie:

Yeah, yes, lovely. Weights, Eddie! Weights and lifting machines, and that's what we have here...

[He points with his walking stick to the 'lifting machine' The fridge is out in the middle of the room with a rope tied around it, threaded through two pulleys on the ceiling and has a pair of handle-bars from a bicycle on the other end.]

Eddie:

Ah...

Richie:

Now, this machine will exercise your pecs, your tecs, your fibula, your timula, your primula...

Eddie:

Dairy-Lee...

Richie:

Everything, mate.

Eddie:

Gorgonzola... What's that Greek one with the holes in it?

Richie:

Nana Mouskouri.

Eddie:

That's the one.

Richie:

Plus, added bonus, it'll do all that... without stretching your todger out to three and a half foot.

Eddie:

Phew! [mocks mopping his brow]

Richie:

Right! Lets get on with it. Forty minutes on this and Charles Atlas will be committing suicide.

[He walks over and stands underneath the dangling handle-bars. He grabs both handles.]

Eddie:

Right you are!

[Richie pulls down on the bar with all his might... We hear the rope pulling taut but the fridge doesn't move]

Richie:

Hmm... yes, yes... Ah, ease up on a couple of yoghurts in there would you, Eddie.

Eddie:

Righty-o... 'Charles'!

[He opens the fridge and takes out two packs of yoghurt]

Richie:

What about that huge wobbly jelly?

Eddie:

Well, you're standing over there!

[Richie turns around and pulls, hangs, stretches and strains as much as he can on the rope but still there is no movement from the fridge.]

Richie:

Hey, how am I looking, Eddie?

Eddie:

Like a sort of vast mountain of Vaseline with a heart condition who's just lifted the fridge about a millimeter off the ground.

Richie:

Hey, no gain without pain.

Eddie:

Hey! Hang on! What's that Sellotaped to the bottom of the fridge?!

[He rushes over, gets down on his knees and peers into the tiny gap between the floor and the bottom of the fridge for a moment then looks up.]

Looks like that missing blackmail nudey snap of Desmond Lynham!

Richie:

Well come on, Eddie! Give me a hand to lift the fridge! I want to get a glimpse of Dessie's hammer-head!

[Eddie runs over and they each take a hold of the bar]

Right! Grab a hold of this and give it a bloody good yank!

[They both strain... Then we hear two 'Twangs' and both gasp, grabbing their crotches in pain.]

Eddie:

Right, this machine should increase your stamina and you lower body strength, so you can lift the fridge and have a quick deck at Desmond's plonker.

Richie:

Right!

[The shot pulls back to show a Moped with it's back wheel attached to the belt of a treadmill. Eddie gets on the Moped and Richie stands on the treadmill.]

Ok, Eddie! Fire her up!

Eddie:

Okey-Dokey!

[He starts the Moped and the treadmill begins to move. Richie starts running (for want of a better descriptive term) 'like a girl']

I'll just take 'er up to a steady seventy.

[He revs the hell out of the Moped, Richie tries his best to keep up. Suddenly the front door bell buzzes. Eddie slams on the breaks sending Richie flying forward, crashing through the window and onto the street.]

Eddie:

Right, ease up gently on the running, I'm just about to break...

[Looks around for Richie then sees the busted window]

Oh! Goh, should have said that earlier, really.

[Eddie goes over to the window and looks out]

Ah, just gotta go and answer the front door, Rich. That's right, you just have a bit of a lie down... Yes. Get your breath back... And your teeth. Yeah, yeah, they're over there by the lamppost.

[The doorbell buzzes again, Eddie makes his way to the front door]

Yes, all right, all right... Christ Almighty.

[Scene switches to the hallway to the front door]

Eddie:

It's like walking down a corridor and answering the door in Nazi Germany!

[He opens the door to a man in an overcoat.]

Hello?

Mormon:

Hello! Have you ever thought what a beautiful place the world is?!

Eddie:

Yes I have, thank you.

[Eddie punches the man in the face, shuts the door and walks back along the hall.]

Charming man.

[Scene switches back to the broken window with Richie struggling through the wreckage. His face is cut and bruised, nose bleeding and shirt stained and dirty. He is shaking with rage.]

Richie:

EDWARD HITLER!

Eddie:

It's all right, Richie. All the birds love a scar!

Richie:

Oh really? Well it's your lucky day then, isn't it, buster?!

[Richie picks up a handy chainsaw, starts it, leans down and cuts off Eddie's legs just below the knees. [out of shot] Eddie falls down off the severed legs onto his stumps, looking bewildered.]

And let that be a lesson to you, young man! Let's see how much mischief you can get up to without any legs!

Oh blimey look at the time! I've got all the packing to do! I've got to lose three stone! Lordy Lordy! There ain't enough hours in the day, Bwana!

[He goes out through the door.]

Richie:

Oooh! I'd better take the open crotch ones as well, just in case I get lucky.

[He takes another pair of crotchless Y-Fronts from a chest of drawers and pops them into the suitcase.]

Right, is that everything? Oh! God, no, the sink!

[He goes over to the small wash-basin in the corner and wrenches the bowl from the stand. Water from the disconnected pipes flows free.]

Richie:

There we are, it's not the kitchen one, but it'll have to do.

[He puts it in the lid of the suitcase]

Mmmm... Oh, Christ! Wallpaper. Will they have wallpaper in Doncaster? Urr-de-durr... Well, better safe than sorry, it's the North, isn't it. They've probably ripped all their's down and put it into a hot pot or made it into a curry[?] or something else frightful.

[He tears a large strip of wallpaper from beside the fire-place and sticks it in the suitcase.]

Richie:

There we are! Good!

Richie:

Eddie! Could you give me a hand with these suitca...Whooooo!!

[Three suitcases come crashing down the stairs followed close behind by Richie landing in the middle of them. He gets to his feet.]

Ahh, that's me. Huh! Good, saved a bit of time, too!

[He walks into the lounge area and sees Eddie off screen]

Eddie!? What are you doing?

[Eddie is on the sofa, bend over both hands at his knees]

Eddie:

I'm just sewing my legs back on.

Richie:

Oh, thank heavens for that! I thought you were masturbating again.

Eddie:

Right, here we go!

[He stands up, but his legs are pointing the wrong way!]

OH BUGGER! I've sewn them on the wrong way 'round!

Richie:

Oh, lordy, lordy! Must I do everything myself?!

All right, here we go!

[He picks up the chainsaw and starts it up]

All right, I'll chop your legs off again, I'll sew them back on. Honestly, who'd be me? Clench!

[Richie runs through Eddie's legs with the chainsaw again then kneels down in front of him]

All right, come one. Spit spot, Give me the needle, give me the thread. It's not a hobby of mine this, you know.

[He begins sewing on Eddie's re-severed legs]

Richie:

There! And don't let it happen again.

[He bites off the end of the thread on Eddie's knee and spits it out.]

Eugh! I nearly kissed you on the knob, then! Eugh!

[He sits down beside Eddie, who is still looking very tense and uncomfortable.]

Right, now Eddie, the coach leaves at Midnight, right?

[He picks up an alarm clock and starts winding it up.]

Eddie:

Yeah.

Richie:

So what time is it now?

Eddie:

Uhh... [turns Richie's clock around and looks] Five o'clock.

Richie:

Right, thanks. So, that only gives us seven hours, right?

Eddie:

Right.

Richie:

Oh god I hope we don't miss it!

[He sets the alarm and places it on the coffee table]

Right, set the clock. Now just keep your eye on the clock, all right?! Just keep your eye on the clock all the time. Right.

[They both sit there staring at the alarm clock.]

There's only seven hours. [With a start] Uh! Did I pack!?

Yes, of course I did. [nervous laugh] That's an easy mistake to make. Eddie, are you packed?

Eddie:

Certainly am. Never had any complaints.

Richie:

No, I mean are you packed for the holiday?

Eddie:

Oh yes, that as well.

Richie:

Good... Where are your bags?

Eddie:

I haven't got any bags. I am wearing everything I need! Well, everything I have, actually.

Richie:

But Eddie... What about spares?

Eddie:

I'm wearing them as well.

Richie:

Yes, but... Are you mad? What if you have an accident?

Eddie:

I'll go to the hospital.

Richie:

No, I mean a trouser accident.

Eddie:

Well, I'll wear yours.

Richie:

But you can't! I'm in mine! Oh, enough of this mindless trouser banter! Have you got the wind break?

Eddie:

No, it's just the way my underpants have been ironed.

Richie:

Oh, thank god for that. Ooh! What about that thing you use on the beach for keeping the wind out?

Eddie:

What? A cork?

Richie:

[Annoyed] Oh look! It's just getting too trouserial around here! For god sake, just concentrate on the clock!

Eddie:

Clock, clock.

Richie:

Just concentrate on it. Oh god... Oh god, have I done everything... Have I done everything???

[Jumps with a start] UH! UH! UH! MILK!!! MILK!!!

[Leaps to his feet and runs to the fridge.]

MILK!!!

[He opens the fridge, takes out a bottle of milk]

Thank god I remembered!

[Throws it out of the smashed window. We hear it break and somebody yells in pain]

Oh... Oh! Sorry, constable! Oh! Well that's charming, isn't it! Yeah, it's no wonder people make programs like 'The Bill' to take the piss out of you! [Laughs]

[Richie runs back to the sofa and sits down]

How are you doing, Eddie? Still feeling tense?

Eddie:

Yeah, increasingly so.

Eddie:

Good. Keep it that way.

Richie:

[Jumps with a start again and points to the clock] Oh god! Look, look, look, look. There's only six hours fifty eight minutes to go now! Look! [panicking] I just suggest we just sit here, quietly in silence and wait for our holiday to start... [shouts] OKAY?!?!

[Long pause as they both sit, hypertensively staring at the clock. Richie jumps again]

Ah! AH! How long does it take to get to the bus station!?

Eddie:

Hang on... I'll go and find out.

Richie:

Oh!! Thanks, Eddie.

[Eddie clumsily gets to his feet and wobbles unsteadily over to the door and gets his coat.]

Eddie:

Haven't quite got used to these legs yet.

Ahh... Just take my darts in case.

[He stumbles out the door]

Free at last!

[Shot goes back to Richie, holding the alarm clock.]

Richie:

Come on! Come on! [motioning to the hands to move faster then holds it to his ear to make sure it is still ticking. To his relief, he finds it is still working.]

Eddie:

There you go!

[Attempts to put his hat and coat on the stand by the door, however they end up on the ground.]

Three hours and fifteen minutes.

Richie:

I know, I don't understand it, the bus station's only two streets away!

Eddie:

Yeah, well, Hic! you know, the wind was against me.

Richie:

Isn't it always, young man!

All right, I'll give it a go... On your marks, Richie... Set... GO! GO! GO BABY!

[Richie places the clock on the table and runs out the door. Eddie stumbles around and laughs]

Richie:

There you are, Eddie! [Picks up the clock & looks at it] Twelve and a half minutes!

Eddie? Eddie?

[Notices Eddie isn't there, so looks for him behind the sofa and under one of it's cushions before seeing a note on the coffee table.]

What's this? It's a note!

[Reads it]

"Der Rechie, I am in the pube with the holiday monkey. Run Run Run!"

Huh... Poor sad git.

Oh no! He means the holiday money!

SHIT! SHIT!!!

[Richie runs at the bookcase, crashing straight through the wall]

Richie:

You've been drinking, haven't you.

Eddie:

HOW DARE YOU!? [He struggles to his feet]

How.. How... How dare you accuse me of Drinkn-n-n-ninge?! Me, your oldest pal and matey! 'Ol Schkip! Old bus fart, tram ticket, one for the road bagga-scratchies...

[Leans on the telly, which crashes off it's stand onto the floor upside down]

...whoops-a-daisy ...we'll keep a welcome in the...

[leans on a side table, sending it crashing over]

...parking Mister David childish Jensen. Me?! Drinkn-n-n-n-n-ninge? Why I'll tear you limb from limb!!

[Starts to assume fighting pose, both arms flailing wildly as he stumbles backwards against the window, gets caught up in the curtains and crashes to the ground.]

Richie:

No, but you have though, haven't you?

Eddie:

[Defeated] Yeah.

Richie:

Well you listen to me young man, you better listen up Mister, and you better listen up good, 'cause your grounded!

Eddie:

[takes a quick look at his own position on the floor]

Yeah, I know.

Richie:

Oh Eddie! How could you do this on our holiday day!?

[Richie helps him up onto the couch]

Look Eddie, concentrate... You've just got to try and stay sober for the next five minutes, 'cause that's when our holiday starts, Eddie.

[He notices Eddie is now unconscious.]

Eddie... Eddie... Eddie! [Slaps his face]

Eddie!! [Slaps, then looks around for something more solid and finds a white figurine of a lady.]

Eddie! [Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!]

E [Whack!] D [Whack!] D [Whack!] E [Whack!] E [Whack!]

[whacks him more times, spelling out something illegible]

Full [Whack!] Stop [Whack!]

[Richie then gets an idea, and goes all 'pervy', drops the statue on his foot and goes over to the handle bars of the 'exercise machine' singing the notes of a theme tune. He tries to pull the fridge up unsuccessfully.]

Blast!

[tries again]

Oh! [puts hands together and prays]

Please God, I just want to look at Desmond Lynham's todger! Help me out this once and I'll believe in you for ever and ever, I promise!

[He goes back and tries again, to his astonishment, the fridge begins to rise!]

Bloody hell! Bloody hell, it's working!

[He pulls the fridge all the way up and stuffs the handle under the side of the sofa to keep the fridge suspended in mid-air.]

[To god, holds his fingers crossed] Only kidding!

[He then lays on his back and slides underneath the fridge. It is suspended directly over his head so he can get a good view of the picture.]

WOW!!!

[Then the alarm clock rings and Eddie wakes up]

No! Eddie! Don't get off the sofa!!

[Eddie rolls off, the handle bars pull free and the fridge crashes down on Richie's head. Eddie stands up]

Eddie:

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, Richie. The Fridgidair appears to have fallen upon your bonce. You won't be able to go on the holiday now, will you?!

[Sounds of Richie struggling as Eddie goes to the tin on the organ and takes out the tickets]

I'm sure I can find an alternative use for your ticket!

[He opens the fridge and escorts out a girl wearing a can-can[?] outfit.]

Huh! Come out of there, Voluptua of dubious morals, and let us hie to Hammersmith bus station, we have but three minutes to go.

Voluptua:

Oh, come on, Eddie! I can't wait to get to Bridlington and start the snog'in and mindless drink'in.

Eddie:

Ahh! that's my bird!

Richie:

[From under the fridge] You complete bastard, Eddie! It's not even Desmond Lynham! It's you in a wig! You bastard!

Eddie:

Yep! That's me!

[Eddie kick's Richie right in the knackers, freeze frame, the end.]

BOTTOM

Written by and starring

ADRIAN EDMONDSON and RIK MAYALL

with

John Abbott as Mormon
Jo-Anne Stockham as Voluptua

Directed by

Bob Spiers