Oh go on then... one last MATTER OF FACT OFAH thread (or is it?).

[Glebe]

THEME: Sticka Barney in me pockeht...

'The Class of '62' title appears as the camera shoots up past the yellow three-wheeler and up Nelson Towers.

INT.MIKE'S SPARE ROOM.EVE.

DEL and the boys await a mysterious party-organiser.

RODNEY: Wonder 'oo it could be? All a bit Agatha Christie!

TRIGGER: I used to fancy her.

ROD: Haha, yeah silly Trig... anyway I wonder-you used to fancy Agatha Christie?

TRIG: Yes, creator of Miss Marple and Poirot.

The lights go out as they argue. They turn around as they come back on and espy Jim Broadbent, pleased as punch.

EVERYONE: SLATER!

SLATER: Yes, it's me, Slater, come back for Rachel... damn! Damn! I'm so stupid! Ich bin ein Auslander!

TRIG: Won a blanket, won a radio.

INT.DELFLAT.NIGHT.

There is a heavy-handed cut to remove Dylan's 'The Mighty Quinn' and references to p**i woofters or summat.

BROADBEAN: You've been so kind... 'ang on... that's my Rachel!

UNCLE BALIN: 'oos Rachel?

ENTIRE CAST+CREW+AUDIENCE: Shup up, Uncle Albums, for goodness sakes!

INT.NAG'S.DAY.

DEL: In a plot let-down, I managed to slip in during the night and get the letter out of your wallet. I photocopied it and put it back in your wallet - without as much as waking a mouse!

JIM: So what, Derek? Sweet F.A.

ROD: Now. We know you had several extra sparklers. That much we know.

JIM BROADBEANS: So sweet F.A., Rodknees. You're forgetting, I know much more about the law than ye, possession is nine-tenths of the law, so pop that in your pipe Matlock!

AUDIENCE: Uh-hah.

DEL: Ahhh, but they don't know about the other ones, as such, as such. Fax 'em, fax 'em.

NIGEL SLATER: I've got a train to catch. Name him Dick after me. Or Sigourney after Dave.

DEL: Not on your Nellie!

ALBERT (hiding under table): 'ave a good life, Del.

DEREKS: Oh I will, unc. Don't you worry. I will.

NICHOLAS LYNDHURST: Yes, my son, oh I will drink to that!

MIKE: 'ere, Del, that fax machine you sold me... fax don't work!

PUNCHLINE: Don't work on this one either! Geercha!

MIKE: Roy, cam back! Trickery!

RACHEL/RAQUEL: I will marry you and be quids in, Roy!

DEL: What do I get, oh-oh, what do I get?

ROY: Sweet F.A, Derek. Sweet F.A.

DEL Commits suicide. RODNEY goes back in time to the war. ALBERT has the piano all to himself.

ALBERT: Gercha!

THE ENDING.

[DangledTeeth]

Top of the Plops

Rodney: Del, man, I'm gonna start playin' cardboard boxes with chopsticks, man, in a band, man. Man.

Del: Oh yeah, who's the lead singer?

Rodney: Lucid Louis.

Del: Is Alliteration 'Arry playing the bass?

Rodney: No, man, it's Charlie and the other one. It's no sweat, man.

Del wipes his forehead

Del: Too bleedin' right it's 'no sweat'. It's fuckin' rainin', yooouuu dopey 42 carrots wallycunt. Where's me roof gone?

Rodney: You're not sat inside the van, Del.

Del: Oh... well observed, Rod-deh-ney. I shall sit in this metal sponge on wheels.

Rodney: Come down to the community 'all, Del, and 'ear us play.

Del: I can't wait. Lovely Jubbly! 'Ere, do you know any of the Beacon Street Union's 'it songs?

Rodney: Na, Del.

Del: Neither do I.

Int. Community Hall

Baz the Chairman: I declare this rock band the right to a rehearsal. Now, next on the agenda: my retirement. Rodney, you're
the chairman of Peckhams. I'm fuckin' off down the pub with Trigger.

Trigger: See yer later, Daveney. Good luck with the music. Look after your broom!

Del enters with his coat draped inside-out over his shoulders

Del: Your soon-to-be manager 'as spoken.

Rodney: Spoken about what?

Del: Hmhm? Oh naffink, Rodders. It's a... it's a joke, innit. I spoke right then. (The Rodney AND BAND look on blankly) Oh
'ave a fuckin' day off, you twatty prannystickdips. So come on, let's hear your magnificent tune.

Rodney: (Taps chopsticks together as he counts) One. Two. Three. FOUUUURRRRRR?!

Lucid Louis: Excuse me, Rodney, we agreed that the song will commence after I did the one, the two, the three followed by the four.

Rodney: Sorry, mate.

Lucid Louis: No need to apologise, Rodney. It slipped your mind.

Del observes from a chair turned backwards

Lucid Louis: WAHN! TWOEH! THRUUEEEEH! FAAAH! Now listen here, we've got miles and miles of deep freeze carpet tiles. David Bowie
wears a gold chain in Shepherd's BUSH BUSH BUSH BUSH.

Del: Nah, nah, stop the music. Gaw, stonnnnnne meeeee. This is like an 'orny dog humping its own turd.

Rodney (Through a smirk of pride): Do you mean to say it's 'the shit' and 'the dog's bollocks' or something?

Del: No, Rodney... IT'S FUCKING CRAP! Gordonnnnnn Bennnett.

Tony Bennett: How can I help?

Del: I said Gordon Bennett as an exclamation, me ol' son. Wait a minute, Tony, can you play the saxophone?

Tony Bennett: Not that well, my friend. But I can pronounce my Rs.

Del: This might turn out to be a right earner. Cushty Shepherd's Bushty!

The camera pans in on Dels self-satisfied smile and changes to a wide shot of the band. Tony Bennett toots the saxophone mindlessly.
Rodney just waves his chopstick around. Lucid Louis runs his hands along a piano. Charlie and the other one nods rhythmically

Del: 'OLD AAHP! 'OLD AAHP! (Captivated stare) Yessss. This tune is brillyunt, lads. It's the evolutionary song of the title theme. This
is gonna go on Top-a-the-pops, or a classic comedy sitcom. I'm gonna call it... 'Ronnie Hazlehurst'.

*RRRRAHB-BAAAHB-BEE-DEE-DA-DA-DA-DEEDEE-PEEEEEEEEEELONK*

DISCLAIMER
THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU IDIOTS. ANY PERSON RESEMBLING DEL BOY AND LYNDHURST IS NOT A COINCIDENCE, IT IS MOST
LIKELY A SIGHTING OF DAVID JASON AND THE ONE FROM BUTTERFLIES OUT SHOPPING.

[DangledTeeth]

A Touch of Yuppy Heroes and Villains

Int. Stately Home. Afternoon

Del examines a painting

Del: Oh, that's a good'un, that one. Van 'alen is my most favourite artist.

Rodney: It's a Canaletto.

Del: I know THAA-AAAGHT, Rodders. I can tell there's a camel toe on that tart down there (indicates an area of the painting). I was simply saying that Van 'alen is my most favourite artist.

Lord Wealthington: Well, thank you for towing my wife's broken-down car, Trotter. It's such a shame you left her there to wander back here an hour later.

Del: Oh bonnet de pseudo-Francais, me old cunt. Think nothin' of it, John.

Lady Wealthington: Yeeauhs, quite.

Lord Wealthington: It's getting late. You must have many Thomas the Tank Engine models, which play 'Billy Joel - We Didn't Start The Fire' in a high-pitched tone, to sell down at the pauper corner.

Del: Yeah, I suppose we should be gettin' back. (Del notices a chandelier) Oh, it's boo'iful, ain't it. Chandelier, is it?

Lord Wealthington: Yes, it is actually.

Del: I though as much. You can tell by the way it 'angs from the ceiling. (Confident scrutiny) I know this one. NO! Don't tell me, your lordship. I can get this one... that's not a Da Vinci.

Lord Wealthington: Spot on, Trotter. How do you know so much about chandeliers?

Del: How do we know so much about chandeliers, heh-hah-hah-hah. Sorry, your lordship, that's like asking an 'elicopter pilot if he's seen an eclipse. We're professional chandelier cleaners, ain't we. (Indicating Grandad) Well not 'im. He's too ridden with the old rigor morbids to get into a Batgirl outfit.

Lord Wealthington: Batgirl? I don't understand.

Del: Me and my brother are Batman and fucking Robin when we polish up the old Bamber's ears. Yes, it's the Caped Market Trader and Rodbin.

Lord Wealthington: That sounds rather auspicious, gentlemen. Let's open a port in my study and discuss it, shall we?

Del: Lead on, your lordship.

Int. Trotters' Flat. Night

Del: Don't be a cunting pranny all yer life, Rodney. We can earn £350 for cleaning two posh lights.

Rodney: Do you really think he's gonna pay us? He didn't pay you for that singing Thomas the Tank Engine.

Del: Oh, shut up, you taaaart. I said 'e could 'ave it for nothin'.

Grandad: Of course he's gonna pay us. He's got blue blood, ain't 'e.

Rodney: I fail to see the correlation between willingness to furnish somebody with money and the hue of someone's life-claret.

Del: It'll be a roddle, Dodders. Heh-hah-hah-hah.

Rodney: Del, we need specialist equipment. You're gonna use superglue and a bottle of Windolene, I know what you're like.

Del (defiantly offended): Superglue and Windolene?! Leave it ouuuut. What sort of bloke do you take me for? This is gonna be triffic, it's not gonna be a bodge job, orwiiiite.

Rodney (with renewed confidence): Sorry for doubting you, Del.

Del: It's alright, Rodders. (Spits several times into a glass jar) Right, we've run out of WD40 so this'll have to do. I've lost me spanner and cleaning cloth. Grandad, get us a fork and a box of Kleenex, would yer.

Rodney cringes in horror

Int. Stately Home. Following day

Del and Rodney are in Batman and Robin costumes

Del: We've done the first chandelier, my son. Ha-heh-ha-ha-hah-haaaah. What a team, Rodney, what a teaaaaam.

Rodney: Oh, I'll drink to that, Del.

Rodney quietly moves a ladder behind Del

Del: I think we're on a winner here, Rodbin. Catch the next chandelier nice an' cool, son. Nice an' cool, you know what I mean.

Del attempts to lean his elbow onto a rung of the ladder they just used, but he doesn't realise it's been moved a few feet away, causing Del to topple

Del: Ooooooow!

The second chandelier comes dropping down onto Del's arse. Grandad appears from upstairs

Grandad: That's a funny way to catch it.

Del: Why'd you unleash that bloody thing on my arse, you fucking divvy old cunt?

Grandad: You shouted out 'now'.

Rodney: No, he didn't. Del said 'ow'.

Grandad: Oh. It appears to be broken.

Del: Yeah, I don't think I can sit on the khazi for about a week now.

Grandad: I was alluding to the chandelier, not your arse.

Del: So was I.

Rodney and Grandad exchange puzzled looks. Wallace the butler enters

Wallace: BATMAN AND ROBIN... (Looks in the direction of Grandad) and Alfred. And look, the chandelier appears to be egregiously fucked.

Del: Erm, that is right, citizen. We've been runnin' arahnd after The Joker all over the bleedin' shop, then 'e came in here and tried to give us an 'iding, and he tried to do me in with that chandelier and has knackered it as a consequence. Well, we better get after the grinning tosser. Excuse us, mate. Duty calls.

The Trotters jog out of the house to a cheap-sounding version of the Batman theme and speed off in the van

(Credits)

[DangledTeeth]

Reg Trotter Come Home

Int. Trotters Flat. (It's hardly going to be outside, is it? But there is the balcony)

Rodney: The doorbell's ringing. I wonder who it can be.

Grandad: Why don't you answer it, Rodney. Maybe it's some geezer we ain't seen in a long time. Considering how old I am it's more likely
going to be someone I know, which would give me the opportunity to step in the hall a few seconds after you and appear startled.

Rodney: Oh, it's any excuse with you. Alright, I'll answer it. And it's not Sidney Potter, it's Pottier.

Rodney opens the front door and is greeted by a man in his fifties.

Reg: 'ello, tall son. 'ow ya diddlin'?

Rodney: (Looks over his shoulder) Oh, what can I do for you?

Reg: I'm lookin' for a family called Trotter.

Rodney (With suspicion): what makes you think we, the Trotters, live here?

Reg: I used to live 'ere, I'm your dad.

Grandad steps out into the entrance hall

Grandad: Reggie?!

Reg: 'ello dad'un. 'ow ya diddlin'? (Reg and Grandad hug)

Grandad: Oh it's good to see you, it really is. Rodney, let me introduce you...

Rodney: I know he's my dad.

Grandad: Oh. And it's Poh-ah.

Trotters' Flat Hallway. Later in the evening

Rodney: Calm yerself down, Del. He's only put on your clothes and has an overbearing manner about him like he feels he's the head of the house again, nothing to blow your lid over.

Del: Alright, Rodney. I'll keep it in mind. (Del and Rodney enter the lounge and see Reg sitting with his feet up, with the remains of an expensive takeaway on his lap)

Reg: Del boy, pour yourself a drink. (Puffs one of Del's cigars)

Del: I 'ad a cigar like that. Right, sling your fuckin' 'ook, you're leaving this flat again. JACKANORY. JACKANORY.

Reg: I've come back to tell you I've got a cold, Del Boy. I'm telling the truth. I've got proof from a Geordie infirmary that's written in my writing. I had to warn my children immediately because it's herediatary. My nose is feeling a bit blocked up. I'll climb in for the night. Oh, and erm... Merry Christmas.

Del: Merry Christmas?! Some people get presents from Father Christmas. Our father is present with a disease... at Christmas.

Two days or so pass, and Del and Rodney have had tests done and have received envelopes. Rodney opens his, followed by Del

Rodney: I HAVEN'T GOT A COLD! I've got an all-clear, my son.

Del: My test is in foreign.

Rodney: You've read it upside-down, you cock. And it says you've got an all-clear, too.

Del: Oh thank fuck for THAA-AAGHT!

Grandad: Hmm, let me peruse these two tests for comparison. Yes, I'll make a curious observation about the difference between Del's and Rodney's blood group seeing it's such a glaring, salient thing to notice. I'm sure your dad wouldn't have picked up on such a particular detail. Saying that, the marker pen-drawn B looks like his handwriting, much different than the printed A. Maybe he does know.

Reg enters furiously

Reg: I've been out for a drink. I've got reason to, haven't I. I was thirsty. I can read that additional B I put on the letter. THERE'S A LAAAOOONE RAAAAANGER IN THE FAMILY! If your mother was alive, Del Boy, I'd punt her in the flange.

Del has to be restrained by Rodney and Grandad

Reg: Now try to see it from my point of view, Del Boy. How would you like it if you found out your son - whom you loved and cared for briefly - was somebody else's kid?

Del: You walked out on me when I was 16, you didn't care if I had food in the Ben Shermans or stains on me fridge.

Reg: I don't why you've bought yourself into this. Rodney's the mystery! Your mum shagged some art-appreciating bank robber called Freddy the Frog in the 1960s.

Rodney (Indicating Reg): This Del Boy lookalike who's about ten years older than Del and about ten years younger than Grandad isn't my father. My biological father was fuckin' cool. It's cominnnng football! It's comiiiing football! It's coming! Coming is football home!

Grandad: Well that's 'The Frogs Legacy' fucked. But not 'Sleepless in Peckham', that episode is too abysmal to ruin.

Trigger: Who are you talking about?

Rodney: FREDDOY THE FRURG. (Turns and realises it's Trigger)

Del: I went to the doctor's today because I've been suffering from this pain the arse, and my twat of a father has outstayed his welcome. Do you know what he said? He said, 'an-e-bi-oh-ics'. Why don't you take a lonnnnnng briiiiisk walk.

Reg: Did he? Oh that's good advice, Del Boy. I must be on my way. Oh and erm, Merry New Yearmas. (Reg exits)

Del: Merry New Yearmas?!

Grandad: Del Boy, I've burnt your pina coladazzas.

Del: See what I mean?

Rodney: No, I don't.

Credits

[Glebe]

EPISODE: WE HAVE A VERY VALUABLE TIMEPIECE ON OUR HANDS, FOR GOODNESS SAKE'S!

INT.DEL TROTTER'S FLAT.DAY.

GRANPA ALBERT: Sorry y'lost the baby, K'saaaandra.

CASSANDRA: That's alright, Uncle Albert, you cunt.

ALBERT VO5: Durin' dah woahhr...

RODNEY: Oh here we go, another nautical bad dream!

ALBERT: Durn' dah woahhr, abortion.

Enter DEL, brandishing a huge, comedy prop cigar.

DEL: Rodney, please come into the lift with me for a gentle heart to heart.

INT.LIFT.DAY.

DEL: Oh, the lift's broken.

ROD: You're only pretending.

DEL: Wot 'bout you and Cassandra?

ROD: Suddenly Cluedo became Risk... and I've never felt such flipping agony in all my existence!

DEL: Better now, lift moving.

ROD: Git... (smiling) git!

DEL: Come on Rodders, let's have dinner with Raquel's parents!

INT.TROTHOUSE.EVE.

RAQUEL'S DAD: I'm sorry Del, but I can't eat this fucking gravy muck, it tastes like coffee.

EXT.TROTTER GARAGE.DAY.

RAQUEL'S DAD: Hang on... this is George Harrison's watch, it's worth a small fortune!

DEL: Nah, nah, got some Showaddywaddy LPs over 'ere!

INT.SOTHEBY'S.DAY.

AUCTION BLOKE: Starting the bidding at 25... pence!

DEL collapses.

INT.SOTHEBY'S HALLWAY.DAY.

ROD: It's still going on in there, £2.50 last shout!

INT.SOTHEBY'S.DAY.

AUCTION BLOKE: Five hundred... five hundred and fifty... pence!

RODNEY collapses.

EXT.THAT LONDON.DAY.

DEL and RODNEY are sitting in the Batmobile.

DEL: Well it wasn't a bad day. Shall we go together?

ROD: Why would we do it separate?

BOTH: GEEEERRRRCHHHHHHAAAAA!!

DEL: Don't mean to put a dampener on it (yes I do!) but don't forget Rodney, miscarriage... and oh, and you're only me half-brovver!

ROD: Cuuuuuuuuuunt.

INT.MIKE'S NAG'S.NIGHT.

A warm sax theme plays. DEL totters in like an uncertain old man. DENZIL stands slowly and claps, like in a crap film or bad drama. Even BOYCIE gives in to the warmth eventually.

DEL: Rodney bought the Rolls... I'll get the sahndwiches!

MIKE: Eh?

There follows a montage of rich livin'.

CSN&Y: Such a cosy room, rest your head for just five minutes, two cats in the yard...

INT.EMPTY TROTTER'S APARTMENT.NIGHT!

DEL finds a cigar in the little lion head jar. He looks around and sighs.

ECHOING GHOST JOAN TROTTER: Get up, young Del! Down the market! Lovely jubbley! This time next year you'll be a millionaire!

DEL smiles.

ECHOING GHOST REG TROTTER (screeching): You're a no-good waster of a son, young Del boy!

DEL looks poignant.

ECHOING GHOST GRANDAD: Del-Boy, Emperor burger!

DEL smiles fondly.

ECHOING GHOST RODNEY: Woooo, Derek, I am not a ghost but in the hall!

ECHOING GHOST ALBERT: Me neither, but me voice echoes, as such, in the empty flat! Came back for a few personal effects!

DEL (shouting down an echo funnel): WHAT YOU TWO DOIN' 'ERE?

MONKEY HARRIS phones.

DEL: Rodney, 'es got a gross of singing dogs!

ROD (face creasing tearfully): Del... we don't do that no more.

DEL: Sorry Monkey or whoever, TIT has ceased to be.

EXT.NELSON.NIGHT.

DEL: Let's walk to the Chinese.

ROD: Yeah, alright.

AL: Whot a palaver!

DEL: Mon dieu! That's it! We can go into the big league. Next year we shall be trillioners!

The sun comes up.

[DangledTeeth]

Matter-of-fact Episode Segments

Wanted

Rodney: She had blonde 'air, was about booze. She stunk of 40.

Del: Did she call you 'my lovely'?

Rodney: Yes! Do you know her?

Del: I do, Rodney. She had an identity necklace which read (mouths 'Blossom' in an exaggerated way), didn't she?

Rodney: That's correct, Del. Do you know her?

Del: Yee-eees, Rodneeeeey. I like a laugh now and again, but making you believe you were accused of attempted rape
or similar would be very evil of me, and you might become so distraught you end up doing yerself in. I shall refrain
from scaring you with a terror-inducing lie, beloved brother.

Rodney: Cheers, Del. What a relief, eh. Oh, and I've left a lit spliff in the air vent and pissed in your scotch.

Little Problems

Rodney: I coulda been a snue-gliffer. A drunk Nicholas Lyndhurst who likes spoonerisms. Del's been the best brother
ever, 'cause 'e's gonna gi-give me *hic* 2,000 pounds.

Denzil: Listen, Rodney. Some people promise you two-thousand pounds and then they give it to grumpy bald eagle and short-arse
orangutan. The former recipient's reaction sounds like a deflated balloon.

Rodney: FRRRPPPPPPPP!

Denzil: Yeah, that's the noise.

Int. Trotters' Flat. Night

Rodney: Yoooouuuu rrrrotten cunt, Del. You promised me two grand, but Denzil said you gave it to two gangsters.

Del (muffled, behind the Balcony window): That's right, Rodney. You wouldn't wanna be covered in bruises just before your
brother's wedding.

Rodney: No, I suppose not. Alan will pay for the deposit. We could have a good old sing-song.

Del (Behind a wardrobe door): Only if you don't mind me miming to Simply Red at your wedding reception.

Who Wants to be An Australianaire?

Jubmo Limsl: Wanna go to Australia with me, Del?

Del: Nah, me ol' fucker. I've got stay here to watch Rodney get married, eventually shag former Chief Inspectaagh Slater's estranged
wife and  'ave my little boy Damien. Even so, I'm loyal to my family and there's a rare watch in me garage which'll be discovered in
1996 - it'll make me a millionaire. LOVELY JUBBLY!

Jubmo Limsl: I'm glad you've made your decision, Del. I'm going to drive my black Ford Cortina with iffy brakes back to Australia.

Albert: You wanna try walkin' it, pal.

Former Bank Manager of Thames Ditton: SHUT THE FUCKING FUCK UP, ALBERT!

The Frog's Legacy

Del: Rodney, listen, we're millionaires. But don't jump for joy or nothing like THAA-AAGHT. Some friend of our Mum hid gold bullion
somewhere. The pranny was a deep-sea diver and his burial was at sea. Bonnet de car flap.

Rodney: Who told you this story?

Del: TTTRRIGGUUUR'S AuUuUN'IiiIEEeeEeEE!

Friday the 14th

Del, Rodney and Grandad are standing near a door. Del swings the door open and closes it on a man for the 38th time

Del: Was that 'im?

Rodney: No it's definitely not 'im, Del. Del opens the door to a man in black uniform

Imposter Chief: Good evening, you've heard about the psycho? Well, I'm the psycho with someone else's identity.

Grandad (Bold, well-spoken): Have you any idea what a 'psycho', you so eloquently put it, is?

Imposter Chief (Cockney accent): Cawse I 'ave. 'e's a geezer what knocks the chief of security aht and steals his mavver's claaoooves.

The Second Time Around

Del: Hello, Pauline. (Pauline leans in to kiss Del. Del backs away) No, we can't rekindle our love, Pauline. It was only a teenage bit
of shaggin', wonnit, eh. I haven't got enough petrol to drive down to see my Aunt Rose-Hasmoovde, and I can't afford to pay for an
astronomical telephone bill.

Pauline: Fuck me!

Del: No way, Paulinedro!

Grandad: Del Boy, I've burnt yer penis.

Sleepless in Peckham

Del: Boycie's done Marlene in.

Raquel: Yeah, she's been gone for a week.

Denzil: No, he's taken her to a surgery to make her bazoongas bigger.

Rodney: Is Freddy the Frog my dad?

Del: Of course 'e is, you fuckin' plonker.

[DangledTeeth]

Theme
Thicker roaaaamming in a faucet. Half butcher monster plan. Igloo woo-ooobble tesla, lent a donut arse quicker. Dent broken...
ONION HAAAAM. Cousin worried compaaaass bitter militia tea, ink life left jingle often seaman in that tiiiie Angleseeeey.
Butt weaze down one ant frying things Yemen... Puddle waggle OAK FORRRCCCE AN PORCHES TURF. Lab-lab-laaaaabia.
Lag-lag-lag-laglag-lager-laaaaa-ger.

Three Men, a Woman and a DEL BOY

Int. Pub Nags. Night.

Trigger: Did you find your way out of the maze okay, Dave?

Rodney: Nah, Dave's still in there, Trig. My name's Rodney, you subnormal fuckprat.

Trigger approaches Mike at the bar

Trigger: If it's a Dave they're going to call him Trugoy after a rapper; if it's a Rodney they're going to call him Hampton Court
after a maze.

Mike: What?!

Del enters, carrying a box with 'REJECT BALDY HATS' emblazoned on the side

Del: Rodney, you dipstick, 'ave a butchers at these lavverley jabberley wigs.

Rodney: Did Panther 'enry say anything about the Sa'urdee Night Fever look? HA HA HA HA.

Trigger: What are you laughing at?

Rodney: TRIGGUR'S ARN-OYYY WURRING UH WIG.

Trigger: HA HA HA HA.

Del: What are you laughing at?

Trigger: JERUHMOY BEHYDOL... HA HA HA HA.

Int. Trotters' Flat. Night

Rodney: I wanna fuck from cassandra; my balls are aching; I'd like a bit of oral.

Del: What's really up with you, Rodney?

Rodney: They're chopping down the rainforest.

Raquel enters

Raquel: What's wrong with Rodney?

Albert was busy reading a newspaper and half-listened

Albert: Rodney wants to chop off his balls and fuck the rainforest.

Raquel: Oh.

Del: All the yuppies wear these afro wigs.

Rodney: I'm going rahnd to Cassandra's, try an' impress 'er with this wig I've pinched.

Int. Cassandra's Flat. Night

Rodney's wearing the afro wig he took out of Del's box. It wobbles each time he steps forward

Cassandra: Hello Rodney. The till operator at the local Safeway gave us advice.

Rodney: Our marriage is that bad, is it.

Cassandra: No, she recommended a tin of salmon. Buy one for the price of two.

Rodney: Oh, cosmic.

Cassandra: Ha ha, you know my former manager, Stephen, who's now head of HSBC. You used to say he was a cunt.
I think you were wrong, Roddy... he's a fucking cunt.

Rodney: Yeah, what about him?

Cassandra: I saw him wearing one of those Saturday Night Fever wigs (giggles behind the palm of her hand).

Rodney: I thought they were fashionable in the City.

Cassandra: Yeah, amongst bit-part actors and dickheads.

Rodney (Falsely): Ha ha. What a fucking cunt. (Throws the wig behind the settee) OWWW!

Cassandra: What was that?

Rodney: A rat just bit me, it was nothin'. I getter bet sewing. If we don't get a tin of salmon, let's get a rhino loose in the city.

Cassandra: I'll phone you... (spots the wig) WAARGH! What's that?! It looks like an animal.

Rodney: It's a hedgehog with a perm. STAY BACK! I'll kill the git. (Stamps on the ground and pretends to punch the floor)
Die, wig wanker, I mean hedgehog tit'ead. (Rodney grabs the 'Sa'urday Night Hedgehog' and chucks it in the toilet) He's
gone dahn the crapper.

Cassandra: Oh, Roddy. (She embraces Rodney. Rodney looks pleased with himself)

Rodney: It's alright, Cass. Roddy is here to save the rainforest.

Int. Trotters' Flat. Night

Raquel: Oooh, I think the contractions are starting, Del

Del: The Contractions? (Observes the TV) I've never 'eard of 'em before, sweet'eart. But it appears Johnathan Ross and the
Supremes are on the stage.

Raquel: No, Del. AAGH. It's not a soul music group, I mean the baby.

Albert: ERRRGH! THE BABY'S ON ITS WAY. CLIVE DUNN! CLIVE DUNN! I've wet meself. Full-grown man and I've wet meself.

Del: I'll phone an ambulance and then Rodney. Not in that order, though.

Int. Rodney and Cassandra's Flat. Bedroom. Night

The phone rings, Cassandra answers

Cassandra (on phone): MHMFMOH.

Del (on phone): Cassandra, stop sucking Rodney off and tell 'im to get his arse down the 'ospical, Raquel's about to drop the
front turd (in the background) Raquel, keep the fuckin' noise down, you taaaart. I'm on the blowah. (To Cassandra) And speakin'
of a blower, don't turn up with Rodney and his fuckwand in yer gob. I don't think the VHS allow oral sex in their corridors, maybe
anal, I'm not sure.

Cassandra: MHLRHT MFEL. (Cassandra moves her mouth away from the receiver... then she does the same with the phone and puts
it down - WAY-HEEEEEY) Roddy, Del said Damien's going to be born soon.

Rodney: Oh, alright. (Looks out the window) It's a full moon.

Cassandra: Is that an ominous sign relating to the birth of Damien?

Rodney: No, I've never seen one before.

Hospital Corridor

Raquel: RRRRRAAAAAAAARGHHHHH!

Albert: What do you thinks gah-ing on in there, Rodney?

Rodney (ironically): She's taming a lion. I dunno, Albert.

Albert: Don't talk to me about lions, sahn. I've already soaked my leg flags with piss already. Aow long d'yer think they're gonna be?

Rodney: For the last time, Grandad, once Del gives the name of the microwave thief. (Albert looks perplexed at Rodney) Sorry, it reminded
me of another time when I was sat with a relative.

Albert (muttering): Never 'eard you say that with me at the bus stop.

Delivery Room

Midwife: Wev gotta mek a dahsehzyun, Mr Trotter. We kin sehve yoooo or thae babby.

Del: Not Doctor Robbie Meadows, you're not from round these parts.

Midwife: That's right, Jimmay, Ah'm not frum New Delhi. Ah've coom tae inspect ye lass's cont fer an incomin' babby.

Raquel: Let him do his job, Del. I don't care if he's Scottish. (Pushes the baby an inch)

Del: Go on, girl, put some effort into it. It's like putting on yer wellies.

Midwife: Brev eazay, RRRRaquel. Ye've onleh gert eh coupla fockin' pushehz an' ye don.

Hospital Corridor

Albert: It's gone quiet. It's all finished. It reminds me of a huge 'istorical event's conclusion...

Rodney: I'm off now. I can see the baby tomorrow.

Albert: I catch up with yer in a minute, sahn. Where was I? That was it: during the waaaar...

Rodney: Oh, forget it. I'm going in to see Del.

Del appears in the corridor

Del: It's a little baby, Rodney.

Rodney: Cosmic. What about the sex?

Del: It's a German number, Rodney.

Rodney enters the delivery room with Del

Del: He's a champion, innee? He's a big lad, he won't be frightened to get in the shower.

Rodney (Unimpressed): He's a bi- oh for crying out loud, Albert! Pull your trahsiz back up.

Albert: Sorry, sahn. Me belt's gone. But dan't worry abaht that. I'll use this squidgy thing.

Rodney (Repulsed): It's an umbilical cord.

Del: Too right, bruv, Albert's got an unbelievable cock.

Nurse: Would you like a pina colada?

Del: Nah, darlin'. Cuppa tea for me with an umbrella sticking out of it. Would you like one, Raquel?

Raquel: Yes, please. Just the umbrella.

Del cradles Damien, walks to an open window and looks up at the starry sky

Del: Hello, Mum. I know you're dead and your grave isn't in the BA54647 flight from Antwerp to Stansted that's flying over. I've got a
boo'iful grandson for you - he's a fuckin' treasure. (Talking to Damien) Oh, we're gonna have such fun. You've got a loving mother
and father. Great-Great-Uncle Alberts - you can drop a nugget when he sits you on his lap and bores you with his war time saga. You've
got your Uncle Rodney to play with - whenever you startle him he'll hear the theme to Psychos, Oh Fork Tunas or stock BBC music when
the copyright license thing expires and gets released on DVD, whatever that is. Oh, we've got some Xmas specials to come and a
medieval stop watch to discover in the garage. This time - TODAY - I'm a fathernaire. LOVELY JUBBLY!

*BAP-BAP-BUH-LAP-LAP-BAP-BAPBAPBAPBAP-BAP-UH-BOM-BAP-UH-BOM-BAP-UH-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM*

End Theme
Del is a daaa-aaddy. Rodney is an unnnnncle. Raquel is a moo-oother. Cassandra is an auntie. And Great Uncle Albert is also a Great-
Great UN-CAWL-CAWL-CAWL-CAWL-CAWL-CAWL-CAWL-CAWL-CAWL. This new end theme is really crap, so please blame DEE-EE TEEEE.
He's an annoying chap without the hi-la-ri-ty. Derek Trotter? No, Dangled Teeth. Rink cup brightness adder pooooookkkke. Garrr-meennnnts
looking beef. Feeee-mur took in leaf. Laaaugh riiiib blob in thief. SAVE MAP BEE SHEATH, BLOOMING SEEP. MAP BEE SHEATH, BLOOMIN
SEEP. (Fades) BLOOMING SEep. BLOOMING seep. BLOOMIng seep. BLOOming seep. Blooming seep.

[DangledTeeth]

The Sky's the Limit

Rodney: Del.

Del: Yes, Roddersney.

Rodney: You know that airport satellite dish you've put on the balcony, believing it to be a telly satellite dish.

Del: Yes.

Rodney: How did you get it up the stairs or in the lift and through the front door, the hall door and the balcony door?

Del: I don't know, Ro- *BAP-BAP-BUH-LAP-BAP-BAP*

''MUSH BUSH BUSH MUSH BUSH MUSH MUSH BUSH''

Pilot Episode

Int. Interior. Tossers' Flat Tyre. Interior. Daynight is Ext. Extendeeeeeeed. Exterior

Delrek enters the flat with a bottle of champagne sticking out of his donkey-jacket pocket

Dell: DA-NaAaAaAah. DHD-DHD-DA-NA-NA-NAAAAAH. HRRSSSSSSSSK! Attention Uncle-Grandad-Lennard-Mickey-Pearce, Rondey and
my significant motherfucker Raquechel who makes her first appearance in abaht 8 years. I have bought us a dolphin to keep for the
week, Boycie's going on 'oliday To Plymouth. That ain't got anything to do with the dolphin, I just fancied borrowing one.

Rocknay: Where did you get it from?

Del tha Fuckin' 'omosapien: TREGGOR'S AWWN-EEE! She had some memorabililia from when she worked on the Carry On films;
thissss clicking fish-bananaaah featured in Carry On Abacinating The Bike Pump.

Dolphin: DHK-DHK-DIGKA-DUKKA-DHHKKKKK. Smoggies.

DelBuoy: Shattap, you tawrtcunt.

Robdey: What exactly are we gonna do with it?

Ledboy: We have to read it Ladybird books at precisely 2100 hours, 46 minutes and 22 seconds every day.

Raquelo: Why?

Deltron 3006: Because it's a ffffuckin' dolphin, Oos Rachel, orwwwiiiite. Whaddya wan' me ah doooo? Play Gaelic football with
it on the ruddy balcony? Eh? Take it to the flamin' cuntin' Chelsea game and shout 'eh lads. Get your conkers arahnd this ZOOBA.'

Grandad Alburnt: What's the dolphin's name, sahn?

Delbyo: Thumb!

Rodniece: Cosmic.

Kitchen: You put a gamble on your life. And what do you get? *PTHOOF* My chamberpot has got rivets as big as your perambulation
around the bloated cross-country meringue with the Tom-Tom Club.

Del twirls with his arms outstretched

Del Bel Divvo (singing): MARIIIIINAAAAA. AQUA MARRIIIIINA. What are these strange enchantments that start whenever you're neeeeaaaar? Mariiiina, Aqua Mariiiiiiiiina, Why can't you whisper the words that my heart is longing to heeeeear?

(20 series, 42 and a bit Xmas specials, 4 live performances in Buckingham Palace and 3 series of After You've Gone followed)

[Glebe]

OFAH CHRISTMAS (CAROL) SPECIAL.

INT.NELSON CORRIDOR.EVE.

EBENEZER TROTTER takes out his key to open the door. For a moment, he thinks he sees a ghostly UNCLE ALBERT face on the doorknocker.

INT.TROTTER FLAT.EVE.

EBEBEZER DEL heats some leftover breakfast Albert made ("san!") from the kitchen, and sits down to eat. Suddenly, a strange, ghostly apparition comes through the wall. It is RODNEY MARLEY-ROBDAL-TROTTER, in chains, with a handkerchief round his bonce.

RODNEY: Woooo... Del... DEL! I am The Messenger! Tonight you will be visited by three ghosts!

DEL: What is it, spirit? There is more of gravy than the grave about you!

ROD: Oh well that's bloody cosmic!

AUDIENCE: Haha!!

Ghost Rod leaves, and Del goes to bed.

INT.DEL'S BEDROOM.NIGHT.

A GHOST GRANDDAD comes through the wall.

GHOST GRANDDAD: Del boy... DEL BOY! It is I, Ghost Granddad!

DEL is whisked back to his childhood.

DEL: Spirit, what is this?

GHOST GRANDAD: It is The Inbeteweeners' James Buckley!

DEL is whisked forward to the episode 'Strained Relations'.

GHOST GRANDAD: It was my funeral, Del!

DEL: I always had to act the hard man!

GHOST GRANDAD leaves DEL back in bed. A bit later, a big, jolly GHOST ALBERT appears.

BIG, JOLLY, GHOST ALBERT: Wooooo, Del, it is I, a Big, Jolly Ghost Albert!

DEL is whisked outside Boycie's house in The Green Green Grass. Through the window, they can see poor, needy Boycie & family... a little boy is coughing incessantly.

DEL: Spirit, what is it?

GHOST ALBERT: It is Tiny Tyler, whom you sold a dodgy splint!

DEL is whisked back to bed. A little later, a tall, hooded figure with a scythe appears.

DEL: Ah, spirit, leave me be!

GHOST TRIGGER: It's alright Del, it's only me. I had to stick a scythe blade on me new broom, would you believe! Oh, by the way, here's you in your grave!

DEL: No! no! Rodney! Rodney!

DEL awakes. He is still yelling - RODNEY stands over the bed.

ROD: You alright, Del?

DEL: What day is this?

ROD: Why, it's Monday.

DEL: Come on Rodney, into the lift.

INT.LIFT.DAY.

DEL: Oh, the lift is locked.

ROD: Pull the other one.

DEL releases a strong, noxious guff within the tight confines of the lift.

DEL: Better out than in.

ROD: Bladdy cos-mic.

THE END.

[DangledTeeth]

Del, Rodney, Albert, A German Woman and EINEN BABYENSTENKASTAGFACHVOTTENHEIM

Int. Nag's Head Flat Nag's Flat. Night.

Rodney: Del! Del! There's a pregnant bird over here who doesn't speak English.

Albert: I think she's foreign or sammink.

Del: Lemme 'ave a crack. (Approaches the German foreign girl) Orwiii', darlin'?

Foreign Girl: Guten tag. I'm Anna.

Del: Nah, she's just a drunk talking a load of bollocks. (Calling) Mike, you better watch out for this one. She's more pissed
than a urinal cake at a mineral wa'er factory.

Albert: That sahnds like German. I can speak a bit of German.

Rodney: Oh cosmiiiic. How'd you learn German, Unc?

Albert: During the waaaar...

Rodney (mumbling): Oh, fuckin' 'ell, not this again.

Del: G'orn, Albert. See if you can talk to the poor mare. (Albert confidently pulls up a chair opposite Anna. Del and Rodney
lean over and watch inquisitively)

Albert: I am einen stupidkleine unklemitten, und I know nothinganazte about der Deutchen languageishenfahrenein.

Anna: Vot?!

Rodney: Oh looook. (Points at a widening puddle) Her waters have broken.

Albert: Nein, nein, boyzein. I hef pizzed einself fur remeinberinge einen lionspielen.

Del: What a fuckin' stench. I thought somebody opened a packet of Skips.

Rodney: There's a head coming out of her twat.

Del: Yes, Anna darlin', maaah saaahn. (Holds her hand) Splurge that fahcker aht yer reproductive twolips. One more fahckin' push.
DAHN TA MARGIHT! (Delivers the baby) Oh, look at 'im, he's a lih-ul diamond, innee.

Anna: Oh, pliz can you fuckin' talk in der normal English. I can't understand der intricacies of your colloqualisms.

Del: Do what?! You wanna get intimate with me in the cloakroom. ON! YOUR! BIKE! I ain't touching THAA-AAGHT after what's shot
aht. Stonnnne me, your flange must look like Predator's mouth with a ruler stuck in it.

Albert: Der only vei ist up, baby, fur yoube und ein nowwwwww.

Rodney: Stop speakin' in pseudo-German, Albert. Talk properly, in English.

Albert: Yer alri', sahn.

Rodney: In your own time, Uncle.

Anna: I don't want bebby.

Del: Not only has a baby been born, a money-earning scheme 'as, too.

Boycie: Oi'll purchase the little fornicataaaah, Del Boy.

Del: Oh, Gordon Bennett, Boycie, John. You almost gave me a Lazenby then (Taps his chest).

Rodney: This is immoral. It's like something out of dickhead times.

Del: Yer right, Rodney. Nah, the deal's off Boycie. (Talking into an imaginary phone) Trotter's Indepedent Traders is... still trading.
We're just not selling that crying cunt.

Boycie: The deal's off, Del? Too fuckin' right it is - the baby's brown.

Marlene: Dukey's brahn and shits all over the carpet. Wooo-urp! (Del squeezes her arse and whistles)

Boycie: For gawwwwd's sake, Marlooiinneee. I might be able to convince my second-'and cars that you gave birth in five minutes flat.
But how can I convince people I'm Neil Armstrong!? 

Trigger: Alright, Boyve. I've got a problem to all your solutions: you could tell people you rogered Denzil.

Boycie: I could tell people I rrrrogered Denziiiil?! Are you off your ffffuckin' trolleyyyyy.

Del: Go 'ome, Trig. (Del rolls up a newspaper and playfully hits it on Trigger's head. Trigger twice blinks and strides out of the pub)

Rodney: Let's take Anna home and save up for a plane ticket.

Anna: Wunderbar.

Del: Two World Wars, one World Cup and a German who was up the duff. UP YER SHIRT!

All: Ha-ha-hah-hah-hah-hah.

Man in the Audience (screeching): That's a ssshhhit end line, mate.

*BAP-BAP-BUH-LAP-BAP-BAP*

Credits

----

Little Arguments

Int. Trotters' Twat. Ext. Night

Rodney: It's Pwutteeyay.

Grandad: It's Poh-ah.

Rodney: It's Pwutteeyay.

Grandad: It's Sidney Poh-ah.

Rodney: Pwutteeyaaaaay!

Del: Keep duh noise dahn, you two. I'm trying to exist.

Rodney: It's. Sidney. PwutteyaAaAAaay.

Grandad: POH. AH.

Del (incensed): Oh, Gordon Bennett!

Rodney: It's not Gordon Bennett. It's SIDNEY PWUTEEYAAAAAY!

Del: F'gawwwwwd's sake, Rodney. It's an exbladation, innit, eh. 'Look at this washing-up in the kitchen. Gordon Bennett!'

Rodney: Oh, sorry Del. I'm with yer now. (To Grandad) PWUTEEYAAAAAY!

Grandad: POH-AH.

Del: Now listen 'ere, Grandad, I may not be the most credible bloke for talking abaht linguistics, speech and what 'ave ya. But try
to enunciate the T's. Alrigh'.
 
Grandad: It's PoTTer.

Del: Much beh-ah.

Rodney: PWUTEE-FUCKING-AAAAAAAY!

Grandad: Del, who's that black bloke on the telly, always played the actor, used to sing that song?

Del: There's thahsands of 'em. But I'm confident it's 'Arry Belafonte.

Grandad: OHR-KAAAY. AH BUHLIEVE YOUUUUU.

Rodney: Del Boy, I wanna make a lime cocktail; how do you use this cocktail-mixing flask thing?

Del: Shake, shake, shake, flamin' nora, shake the bloody lime.

Rodney: Cheers, Del.

Del: 'ang abaht. Why'd you start this debate over some actor's name?

Rodney: He's on the telly right now.

Grandad: Yeah, Harry Bell-endfountain, or whatever he's called. Alway plays Sidney Poh-ah.

Del: That's all very riveting, brother and ger-randfather. But there's one lih-ul detail you haven't been discerning enough
to notice. (Inhales air sharply through his nose) Call it an 'iccup, shall we say. A complete fucking lack of observation, if
you will.

Grandad: Whassat, Del?

Del: YOU HAVEN'T GOT THE TELLY SWITCHED ON, YOU DOZY LITTLE PLONKERCOCKS!

Credits

[Glebe]

EPISODE: COME BACK, UNCLE CHARLIE!

Feme Foom: Fick a Barney...

INT.FLAT.DAY.

DOOR: Knock knock.

ALBERT: 'Oos there?

KNOCK KNOCK: It's Knock Knock.

AL: Cam in.

KNOCK KNOCK: Cam on dahn the Nag's for a game a dominos!

INT.NAG'S.EVE.

KNOCK KNOCK: You cheated!

AL: I didn't!

ELSIE PARTRIDGE: Cam on boys, no need to argue!

DEL: 'ere, Albert, get the drinks in!

AL: Owlright, san!

As Albert whips out his pension-stuffed wallet, a gang of skinheads eye him suspiciously.

INT.TROTTERS.LATTAZ.

DEL and RODNEY cam in. Albert is sitting in his chair, his face rearranged.

RAQUEL: Del, Del, come quick! Albert's been coshed!

DEL: Oh ruddy heck! Whad 'appened?

ALBERT: T'waz dem skin 'eads wot did it!

DEL: I kill 'em! I'll-

RODNEY: Now calm down Del. We'll ring the police.

DEL: No! I'm a black market trader! A fucking criminal! I'll go dahn for this, and you're camming wiv me!

DEL whips out a pistol. RAQUEL sticks a sedative needle in his neck and he goes limp.

INT.TROT.NIGHT.

ALBERT is all tucked up comfy in his dressing gown.

ALBERT: Saw a tiger... wet meself!

DEL: Now cam on, Albert... only human!

AL: Nah, right now! Pissed in seat!

DEL: Dozy old goat! Go freshen up!

RODNEY cams in. Del allows him to sit in the wee-wee!

DEL: Camfy?

ROD: Yeah, alright. *Sniff* Rodney looks dahn, confused. Gotta be tough on Albert, get him out again!

DEL: Oh, I can't be tough on the old goat! Oh, alright.

ALBERT: I'm back, all spruce goose!

DEL: Albert! Start pullin' your weight! Get dahn dem shops!

AL (croaky): Alright, san. I know when I'm not wanted.

AUDIENCE: Ahhhh.

INT.TROT.THE NEXT DAY.

RACHEL: Del! Albert's gone missing.

Cue montage of That London. McCartney croons "Albert, we love you."

EXT.TOBACCA ROAD.DAY.

DEL: THERE you are, you old goat!

ALBERT: Wot you two doin' 'ere?

ROD: You went missing, we found yah, cosmic.

DEL: Runnin' away from home at goat's age!

ALBERT: I remember when all this woz 'ouses. Spices, ships, tea, aborigines, from all over dah world. Sailors, old tars, pigeons, seagulls, birdshit. Blitz. Voices all 'round the street, kids, football. Jumpers for goalpost, eh? They woz rough people. But they woz good, honest, salt of the earth working class Landerers, from That Landen. We put up a sign; 'YOU CAN TAKE OUR 'OUSES... BUT YOU'LL NEVER TAKE OUR LIVES. (looks dahn, sadly). Now look wot they dahn to it.

DEL: Yeah, it's cosmic. Eric Clapton, tin drum.

ROD: It is poncey and immoral, Derek! Cam on, Albert, let's go 'ome!

DEL: Lovely jubblies!

INT.TROTTER'S FLAT IN NELSON MANDELER 'OUSE.DAY.

CASSANDRA: Hope your feeling better, Uncle Albert. Have some flowers.

ALBERT: Cheers, love! Begonias, me favourite!

DEL comes in.

DEL: You cheeky mare! I just been on the blower to Knock Knock, he smashed yah! What am I gonna tell Oily Ollie?

RAQCHEL: Derek, mob rule!

ALBERT: I don't feel so well!

ROD: Well, when Oliver and his army come out of hospital - they'd rather be anywhere else then heeeere to-daaaay - you'll have a lot of explaining to do!

CASSANDRA (turning to camera): Good night, folks. That wraps up another episode with The Trotters! Sleep sound!

[madhair60]

Uncle Albert opens the door to the flat, only to find a nude Del and Rodney suspended in mid-air, each consuming the other at the legs

Rodney: awww lff t ahhp dellll

Caption: OUROBOROUS

[DangledTeeth]

Stage Fridge

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1vd1z0-pys

Int. Starlight Rooms. Backstage.

Raquel: You heard him, Rodney. He's got a problem.

Rodney: I know, he's always being lairy and doesn't know when to sort out his demeanour in a social setting.

Raquel: Not Del. I mean Tony.

Rodney: I don't think anyone'll notice, Raquel. It's just a bratwurst shoved down 'is pants.

Raquel: I give up.

Rodney (mumbling): And that wasn't a reference to Tony.

Int. Starlight Rooms. Performance Stage

Del and Rodney are immaculately dressed for the night.

Eugene McCarThief: Evenin', Del. I heard from Eric you've provided tonight's entertainment. It's my Mum's birthday, I don't want her to
be disappointed. If she is not sufficiently entertained, I'll turn your door 'andle into a knob and I am talkin' bollocks, too.

Del's eyebrows twitch with confusion and his eyes begin to wander.

Del: Oh, it's gonna be the best - THE BEEEHHHHST - nothing's gonna disappoint your muuuuuum. I mean, would I do anything less
for your dear mum? You sit back and enjoy.

Eugene McFarty: I'm not sure. I've only met you once, I think.

Cuts to Eric on stage

Eric: Good evening, and welcome to the Starlight Rooms. Tonight's act may be on the tip of your tongues - they are local.
They've embarked on a sell-out world tour, from Area 51 to a snooker hall in Coombe Bissett.

Rodney: Where'd he get that load of bollocks from? (Glances at Del) Stupid question. (Del smiles proudly)

Eric: Please welcome to the stage - Raquel and Tony Angelino.

An ethereal background tune is played

Raquel: You left standin' me crying... alone... alone... One look at your hand starts me standin' alone and crying. ALONE. CRYING. HAND.
CRYING. Standing alone and crying.

*BEE-DAW-DUM-DA-DOM* (Tony struts on stage)

Tony: Ah thought that aaaaahhhh - FUCK-NUGGETS! -  was over - BOOB JAGUAR. HOMOPHOBIC SHOPLIFTER! - Tell me now
- CCUNNNNNNT - wwwwhaaat can ah doOoOooOOOo. I love - poo - even more than I did - WANKING OVER YOUR SISTER'S PLACENTA!
But darling, (blinks several times and jerks his head backwards) what can I do-ooooooo. TWAT PASTIES. For you don't loveee
meeeee, and ah'll always beeeeee - MOTHER MCCARTHY HAS NICE ZOBDOBBERS! - Cryyyyy-iiii-inng. Cryyy-iiii-innnng. (He Hunches over
and stamps his foot) DDDDICK SPANNERS.

The music fades elegantly. Rodney smirks. Del looks mortified. The audience applaud politely

Rodney and Del: Happy birthday to yoooou, happy birthday to yoooou. Happy BiIIirtHDAaa- (Del and Rodney notice nobody's joined in
and become silent)

Eric: Erm... Raquel and Tony, everyone.

Rodney and Del: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy BiIIir- (Del and Rodney notice nobody's joined in YET AGAIN and
become silent... again)

Int. Trotters' Flat. Night

Del: Gordonnnnn Bennett! What the turding sock was that all about?! Why didn't 'e tell me 'e's got Tourette's Synbrogue.

Albert: I don't think anyone no'iced, sahn.

Rodney (sternly): Oh, you noticed, Uncle. You even stood up on a chair.

The doorbell rings, Raquel answers, Tony enters

Tony: Hello Del. I've come for the money you promised me. I signed a contract.

Del: Alright, son. Here's your money (Raquel and Rodney hold their open palms out)

Tony: It might have come as a shock to ya this... problem of mine. But at least I can pronounce me R's.

Del: You can pronou- PRONOUNCE YOUR BLEEDIN' R'S!? Is he havin' a pop at me or what?! I may never be able to walk out this flat again
without someone calling me DOOR BOLLOCKS. I did loop-the-loop over Dymchurch. The audience were shouting THERE GAAOES A
SPAYZZZEMAN. A SSSPAYZZZEMAN... fuck knows why. Bloody cabaret clubs. I've finished with 'em! What they do to you, eh? Get dragged
down to a performance 'all; cloakroom attendant nearly loses yer fuckin' coat. And then you inhale the smell of... somebody's bloody fart.

Tony: Look, I don't always have this problem. It only happens when I sing. And it intensifies when I'm attempting to gratify a toughnut's
elderly mother wearing fuck-off massive glasses.

Albert: There's Roy Jenkins and Jonathan Ross.

Tony: Exac- WHAT?!

Albert: I'm just sayin': CONCORDE!

Tony exits. The phone rings, Del answers

Del: Hello, Eugene. Del's not in at the moment, (impersonating Grandad) Where shall I say you've gone, Del? Maybe you'd like to
converse with my road manager about tonight's show?

Rodney: IONLYSWEEPUPANDMAKETHETEABUTREALLYIDOFUCKINGNOTHING!

Del: You what? Oh... okay... cushty. Lovely Jubbly. Triffic. Mustard. Knock 'em baaaandy. Au revoir, Eugene.

Raquel: Is he going to nail your genitals to the door?

Del: No. 'is mum liked ya. Even though Mrs McCarthy had a blank expression 'alfway through the song, she thought it was the most
'ilarious thing she's seen in her life. She's booked ya to perform at the Whitehouse. (Del scoots to the balcony and shouts) Tonnnnyy.
I've got some more bookings for ya. Stick with me, son, and I'll make you rich. Wank granite!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxOEhc960Bc


The Unlucky WANKER is

Int. Nag's Head

Del staggers in with a bottle of champagne in hand

Del: DA-NA! DIH-DIH-DA-DA-NA-NAAAH! HRRRSHK! Attention, Rodderigo and Cah-seh-ssandra. We arrrre going on 'oliday to
Spain through a puh-paintin' competition. Rodney's paintin' was submitted by me an' it won.

Rodney: I've never won a competition in me life.

Del: Apart from those grotesque cu- no, you're right, Rod-deh-ney, you've never won a competion. Get yer bikini
line sorted out - you too, Cassandra - then we're off. Lavverly jahbberly!

Int. Airport hall

Del: Now, listen, Rodney. There's a lih-ul snag with this 'olidee. I sent off your painting 'Marble Arse and Yawn'
for an under 15-year-olds competition.

Rodney: They think I'm fourteen?

Del: No. They think you're four.

Rodney: FOOOUUUUUR?!?!

Del: Shhh! Keep duh noise dahn, yooouu cunt. You can't expect people under 15 to go jetting off by themselves, so, I dunno
why I did it, I said I was your parent.

Rodney: You... you told 'em you're my dad?

Del: No, Rodney. I said I was your mum.

Cassandra: Ha ha ha ha. Then who the hell am I supposed to be? His dad?

Del: Naaaooooh. You soppy caow. Of course not, don't be stu'id... you're Uncle Albert.

Cassandra: UNCLE ALBERRRRT?!

Del: Shhhh. Shattap, you taaaart. Quick, let's pop in the karzee and put on our disguises.

They enter then exit the toilet, wearing unconvincing disguises. Rodney has fitted a pair of trainers to his kneecaps and shuffles on
them. Del is wearing a blonde wig back-to-front, and Cassandra is wearing a crumpled blue hat and a Father Xmas beard.

Carmen: We are lookeen for a RRRRodney Trrrrotter.

Del: Over (coughs and puts on an effeminate voice) over herrrre, sweet'eart.

Cassandra (husky, heavily put-on voice): During the waaaar.

Alan: Oh, come onnnn. Look at yourselves. You're all adults. You're going to fool nobody.

Del: Do you mean we have to naff off back to England?

Alan: Oh no, stay! Go about your holiday looking foolish, and what's more you're going to win the Spanish lottery.
Oh, but poor not-really-little-because-he's-walking-on-his-knees Rodney is only four years old, and the winning
ticket is in his name. Kids can't claim lottery winnings, 'Mrs Trotter'.

Del appears distraught

Del (Faux Spanish accent): Who warnts toeh beee un millionario. I do.

''WOSSANAME IN EDDERPUS. VIH GAH PRICES ADDA STROW. etc''

[DangledTeeth]

Console Me

Int. Trotters' Flat

Del enters the lounge through the front hall door

Del: Rodneeeey, mah cuntin' saahn. I've only gone down to the market and sold the papier mache oven, a helium answer
machine, that oval shaped football and - AND - half a gross of oxygen-powered thimbles.

Rodney: Ah that sahnds cosmic, Del. Guess what I got?

Del: (Mesmerised smile) What?

Rodney: A Super Nintendo with Race Drivin'.

Del: A Super Nimblengo and RRRRacccce Drivinnnnn' - LAVVERLEY JABBERLEY! Is it two-player?

Rodney: No, it's one-player. But we can take it in turns.

Albert: I'll watch ya, sahn.

Raquel: And me.

Del: Cushty! Get it ahp an' runnin', please, Rodders.

Rodney: Righto, Del. (Rodney leans forward on the settee and pushes the power switch upwards.)

Del: I like this theme music. DHN-DAH-NAHNAH... DHN-DAH-NAHNAH.

Rodney: I'm gonna select the Lamborgini-type car and, erm,  pick the SUPER STUNT TRACK.

Albert: During the waaaar...

Del, Rodney, Raquel and Boycie in the Pub: Oh, not this wank again.

Uncle Albert: During the war, I never 'ad this game. Too busy fighting for people's rights to play a racing simulator as depicted in
polygonal graphics and an atrocious frame-rate, I was.

Del: Yeah, mustard.

They all bask in the glow that's being emitted from the TV; Rodney and Del eat baked beans straight from the tins; a fleck of sauce
drips from Rodney's mouth

Rodney: I'm gonna try an' successfully drive along this loop-the-loop.

Del: You wanna try doing loop-the-loop over Dymchurch, pal.

Albert: SHUT UP, DELBERT!

Lenny Henry: Yes?

Del: Not you, son. G'orn, get aht of my flat.

Rodney: Oh bollocks, I've fucked it up. Your turn, Del.

A replay is shown of a red blob careering off - what appears to be - a pixelated model of that metal snake from Demon Seed

Del: Right, lemme 'ave a pop at it. Ha-hah! (Del pokes his tongue out as he concentrates) Mhm, these are brillyunt beans. But
enough of THAA-AAGHT, let's have a go at this racin' malarky. Yeah... GO ON, MAH SAHN. Yep... yes... Oh. I've naused it ahp.

A replay is shown of a blue shape launching over a grey doorstop. The blue wedge arcs in the air and comes crashing down,
consequently developing into a billowing mass of scrambled eggs

Del: Your turn, Raquel.

Raquel: No, I'm no good at these games.

Del: Albert?

Albert: Yah. Thanks, sahn. (Albert holds the pad and moves his arms side to side as though he's using a steering wheel. He completes
a lap and Rodney and Del looked stunned. Raquel smiles)

Del: I'm off to bed. What about you, Raquel?

Raquel: I'll join you.

Rodney: Me an' all. (Del frowns and pulls a sour expression at Rodney) I mean I'm going to my room.

Albert, now in an empty lounge, looks left to right and wiggles his head, smirks and does a victorious shuffle dance

Credits

Only Open All Horses

Int. Arkwright's Shop

Arkwright: A-beh-beh-beh-beh-beh-beh-beh-beh. What can I do for you, Del and Ruh-reh-roh-roh-Nicholas Lyndhurst?

Del: Orwite Artwank, me ol' bum. Gis a packet of chalks, er... tub of rickets! 600 grams of imperial weight. And erm... (clicks his fingers)
Bas Ruuten. Anything you want, Rodders?

Rodney: MISCARRIAGE LAGER.

Arkwright: Geh-geh-geh-geh-Granville.

Northern Del Boy: Yes, master?

Arkwright: We haven't got much to do today. DangledTeeth has hardly watched Open All Hours, only a few episodes where I appear to
get the horn over some fat nurse who wants to suck your cock, and I reflect on today's earnings and other mundane shit, outside,
pretending to smoke an invisible cigarette before the credits appear. Episode will conclude shortly.

Granville: Theyz noht a coupler rehvahs. Theyz a COOPLA sovvern POHFS!

Ext. Arkwright's Shop. Evening

Arkwright: Life is so simple and dull. Philosophising on cobblestones. Oops, fook, I left thur kettowl on, Riiiiteh.

PAAH-PAAARP-BAAAAH-DA-DAAAAAAAAAAAA etc.

[Glebe]

EPISODE: RODNEY, COME ON!

Theme: dinkle-doo-doo-ta-da-dinkle-doo-doo-ta-da-stick-of-bawmyinmepockeh...

INT.TROTTER'S FLAT.DAY.

RODDY: Del, Cass got a splinter in her finger!

ALBERT: Durin the woah, etc.

RAQUEL: Have you spoken to Cassandra about it yet, Rodney?

RODDO: Nah, to painful, innit.

DEL (with a jerk of the head): Come on Rodney, the lift.

INT.LIFT.DAY.

DEL: Gordon Bennett, the bloody lift's broken dahn!

ROD: Leave it aaaahhhhhhht!!

DEL: Have you spoken to Cassandra?

ROD: I can't, can I! Suddenly Hungry Hungry Hippos became Lost Valley of the Dinosaurs, remember that? (grins)

DEL: You can take that splinter out, gently, with a pin. Oh, lift working again!

ROD: You... git... you... git... you...

DEL gives an expectant grin.

ROD (smiling): ...git!

INT.NIGHTCLUB.NIGHT.

DEL: Give them free a coaker-coaler!

NOT JEVON: Cheeky mare!

ROD (weepy): I love 'er, Del.

DEL: Sorry, Rod, off home with Raquel!

LADS: Yoooooh, nice one, get in!

RAQUEL: One is rather embarrassed.

ALBERT (back home in comfy chair, to camera): Now Raquel is shacked up with Del, we can move on to the next phase in the series - relationships! Isn't that right, K'saaandra?

CASS (rolling drunk on the floor in vomit): 'Twas I wot brought that element in. Preferred the early ones meself, the Granddad ones!

[DangledTeeth]

The Jolly Boys' Outing - The Director's Cut (His Finger)

Int. Coach. The Trotters and Nag's Head punters are laughing and joking. Del walks through the aisle with a box of food as
music plays in the background

Radio: FOUR! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! Clean up that dirty plate. TWENTY-TWO! FIFTY-SIX! Buy a gerbil and teach it nifty tricks.

Del: I'm in charge of the snacks, because Denzil has got HIV in his audio pasta. There's green gungy shit comin' aht his ears, look.

Denzil: Ha ha. You're such a bastard, Del. What sorta gohnnnnge?!

Sid's Cafe: Del Boy, why didn't you ask me to make the grub? I run a bleedin' cafe, mate.

Del (plainly): How can I put it it in a pithy, constructive way? Your food is a mass of repulsive wankblubber, Sid.

Sid's Cafe: Oh. Very well.

Cuts to Boycie sitting alongside Mike

Boycie: Did you prepare the sandwiches, Mike?

Mike: No I didn't. I wasn't up to it. I've only got 82 pairs of hands.

Boycie: Del must have got some right insipid, unintelligent cunt to do 'em.

Trigger: No. I made them.

Boycie: Saaaay no more.

Trigger: I bought many of those pre-packed sandwiches from Sainsbrees.

Mike: How are they sandwiches that you have made if you've bought them ready-prepared?

Trigger: Well here's a photo of them. What more proof do you want? Look after your bloomer.

Mike has noticed that Boycie appears forlorn

Mike: Lincolnshire cheese and lettuce sandwich, Boycie?

Boycie: AND QUICK!

Cuts to Mickey, Jevon and Rodney

Jevon: Make those lagers long... and alcoholiccccccccccc.

Rodney: Rodney Trotter's going dahn ta Marrrgiht. Brothels, open up. Hot-Rod is here to stick it up the fucking prozzies. Cassandra's fuckin' useless
in bed (Cackles triumphantly and leans back in his seat, he realises Alan's next to him) Alright, Alan?

Alan: Yes, Rodney. I'll go with you to the slag shack. I fancy some 'jellied eels' (nudges Rodney).

A distinct release of gas can be heard

Del: Who did that whistling fart?

All: It weren't us!

Inflatable dolls emerge menacingly behind the seats

Denzil: Bloohdee 'ell! It's those Playthings dolls; they're filled with propane and laughing gas.

Del: Ha ha ha ha. We're a buncha wallytwonks who are about to be engulfed in a death boom.

Boycie: Ha-agh-agh-agh-agh-agh-agh-agh-agh-agh-agh-agh-agh-agh.

Rodney: Let's get out of it now. Ha-he-he-ha-ha-ha.

The coach explodes dramatically, depicted and replayed from various shots. A distant view of the burning wreckage is displayed for a few seconds,
then it's revealed that everyone got out safely, and they look on meekly in a line

Del (To the driver): Don't worry, Harry, I'll tell yer governor a squirrel got caught in the wheel.

Albert: I fought for free speech.

Del: Yeah, s'pose ya did, Unc. Did it 'appen during the war?

Albert: I'm sayin' naffink, sahn.

Del: SHADDAAAAGHP!

End theme: ''Everehbodeh's talkin' at meeeeh. I don't hear a word they're sayin' in Shepherd's BUSH! BUSH! BUSH! BUSH! BUSH! BUSH!
Only the echoes of CUT PRICES AT A STROOOOOOOKE. WAaoOaOaOHL WOH-UH-WOHL-WOOOOOHWL.''

May The Forshhhe Be With You

Slater: I've given you an immunity from prosecution, Del, and we agreed you'd tell me the name of the thief
upon putting a signature down. You've signed. So come on, who nicked the diamond-encrusted microwave from Holland?

Del: We did! (Del triumphantly holds up the immunity from prosecution)

Hoskins: The canteen's now open, sir. But what a shame, you ain't going to 'ave a hot cup of tea anytime soon where you're
going. PRISON NOW.

Slater: Del, could you do me a favour. When the baby's born, name him after me.

Grandad steps in front of Del, Del steps in front of Rodney who steps in front of Grandad and Grandad steps in front of Rodney
but Del's in front of Rodney

Del: I don't think it's fair to christen a kid 'Clopper-slobber', is it?

Slater: That's not my name, Del.
'
Del: Oh yeah, yer right. 'Sla'er Troh-ah'. Nah, I don't like it, Roy. 'Roy Troh-ah'... Nah, that's crap an' all, mate... 'MATE TROTTER'!
I don't like THAA-AAGHT... 'THAA-AAGHT TROTTER'. Nah, too long. I could call him Derek, as in Derek Trotter. (Feels a wave of deja vu)
DELJA VU TROTTER. Erm... yeah, I quite like Derek.

Rodney: Please call him Derek, Derek. Anything but Damien. I don't wanna hear O Fortuna briefly play in the background every time
I look at him.

Del: Oh Fork Tunas?!

Trigger: It's the Karao'e version.

Del (Del clicks his fingers and points one firmly) Karaoke Trotter!

Slater: I said name him after me, Del.

Del: Oh yeah, sorry, Roy. Broadbent Trotter it is. LOVELY JUBBLY!

Credits

[Glebe]

EPISODE: TIME ON OUR HANDS: PART II - THE CHILLENING.

Theme: Where it all cams from iza mystery...

INT.TROTTER MANOR.DAY.

RAQUEL: Del, my mum and dad are coming around for dinner in our posh mansion.

DEL: Aowh, cushty!

ROD: Del, Cassandra's knackered another sprog.

DEL: Cam on Rodney, the lift.

INT.LIFT.DAY.

DEL: Lift's broken.

ROD: Go on then.

DEL: Why won't you talk about it?

ROD: Talk about wot?

DEL: You lost the flippin' baby.

Suddenly, UNCLE ALBERT'S HEAD - done up as Vyvyan from The Young Ones, with the head studs and everyfing - comes smashing through the lift wall.

ALBERT: All of a sudden, Monopoly became Go for Broke!

DEL: And I've never felt such sodding pain in all your life.

DEL & ROD (to ALBERT): GIT!

INT.TROTTER HOUSE.NIGHT.

The entire cast - even including a Danger UXB blow-up doll - are seated around a giant table.

UNCLE ALBERT (dressed as a town crier and ringing a bell): Oyez, oyez, now here this, now here this, Del, I haz accidentally swapped the coffee for the gravy again! Twelve bell and all's well!

DEL: You've sunk every battleship you were on - and now you've knackered the gravy train!

SLATER: Now get out of that one, The Perry Mason!

ROD: Whatever floats y'boat!

RAQUEL'S DAD: Derek the Trotter, I appear to have found another priceless timepiece in my coffee soup.

DEL: Nah, nah, mate, got some shonky Showaddywaddy el-pees and David Bowie el-pees over 'ere!

ROD: I have the receipt here, natch.

RAQUEL DAD: My goodness... I think this Edvard's Fortune Watch, worth in excess of 50 trillion!

ROD: All all that time, we were sitting on a nest egg!

DEL: This time next year, we'll be gazillionaires!

Suddenly, everything goes a bit weird and everyone turns around to enjoy UNCLE ALBERT - dressed in big clown outfit with giant, comedy chicken feet - dancing to incidental music from The Goodies.

TRIG: Oh yeah, forgot to mention... I accidentally put LSD in the soup!

DEL: You've knackered every broom the council gave yah, now you've haaahahhahahwoooeeoooooooeeeee!!

The festivities continue as CASSANDRA'S DAD gets his willie out on the table and BOYCIE starts rubbing lard into Sid's vertebrae.

[DangledTeeth]

A Royal Flush (Ultra-cut cut version)

Market. Day

Del: Gather rahnd, ladies and gentleblokes. I've got a bargain of a life time for yer. Presen'ing to you: sandwich spread 'air remover.
You can whack it in between two slices of bread and 'ave a snack, or you could apply egg mayonaise or chicken salad dressing to your
pegs or genital area and get those wispy bits off your body. I'm not asking for 6,872 pounds, no, no, not on your nelly. I'm asking
for 8 knickers, right, because my underpants drawer is more vacant than a demolished hotel. Come on, you know you want them. 'Ere ya
go, darlin', one fer you.

Rodney looks over at a woman selling paintings. The conversation he commences with her is cut short because her paintings are Impressionist
and Pre-Raphaelite originals on loan from the National Gallery and Tate Britain, which have been copyrighted by the White Cube gallery,
for some reason.

A policeman approaches Del and Trigger

Del: Oh fuck me for a chisel, it's the Old Bill. Quick, Trigger, play along with me.

Trigger: To get to Soho you need to get a Tube to Oxford Circus, walk down the main road and turn right and Madame Dickkicker's is on
the corner.

Del bobs on the spot and twitches his shoulders as he waves his forearms

Del: Gaw blimey, strangle my stoat for a blanket. That was very 'elpful, me cold frying pan. I 'anged the gallop for a turnip. UP YER
FUCKIN' SHIRT!

Policeman: I couldn't understand a word he said, must be a foreigner.

Street. Market

Victoria: Shall we have breakfast in this steaming wankhole, namely a cafeteria?

Rodney: Yeah, but I don't think your Berkshire arse will enjoy it.

Victoria: But my life is so posh and sheltered; I find noisy Cockneys endearing.

Rodney: Alright, but even a scruffcunt like me hates it, Vicky.

Rodney and Victoria enter Sid's Cafe but the entire scene is cut because 'Jean-Jacques Perrey - Gossipo Perpetuo' is playing in
the background. Copy-fucking-right again

Int. Trotters' Flat

Shots of Rodney with a book on royal geneology are removed because Ray Butt didn't bring back that book to his local library and doesn't
want any evidence that he kept the fuckin' book; he would face an astronomical charge of £4.68 if his library received it today.

Del: Rodney! You must marry that posh tart. You could become peer of the realm - just imagine it. Your clothes will come from Oxfam. Your
shoes will come from Shoefayre. You'll dine at (waves his hand majestically in an arch) Burger King. LOVELY JUBBLY!

Rodney has moved away from the book

Rodney: I'm gonna need two tickets for a theatre show. Vicky said 'er dad - the Duke of Maylebury - can't get 'em.

Del: You shall go to the theatre, in a bus, to see Cinderella.

Rodney: No. Carmen.

Del: Leave it aht, Rodney, there's no need to be snobby. You're not 'ooked ahp with the affluent bint yet. What's wrong with the bus?

Rodney: No, I didn't mean I prefer to go in a 'car, man', I meant Car-men. It's a musical.

Del: Oooooh, I get what you mean. You shall 'ave tickets to Carmen, Cinderodders.

Int. Theatre

Vicky: It's awfully spiffing of you to get these tickets, Rodney.

Rodney: Yes, well, I have my contacts.

Del appears behind a group of people

Del (In background): Rodney! Over 'ere, son.

Rodney (mumbled): Bloody cunting fucking cosdick!

Del: Orwite, Rodney. (To Vicky) Oh, hello. You must be Lady Victoria.

Victoria: Pleasure to meet you, you must be Derek.

Del: Ah, mais oui, mais oui. Call me Del. And a pleasure to meet you an' all. (To Rodney) Nice of ya to get four tickets.

Rodney: FOOUUUUUR?! (Almost snarls) I thought it was 'three' I got.

Del: Na, na, Rodders. I bought me mate along.

Rodney: Where? All I can see is some seal with 'er marshmellows almost 'anging out.

Del: Yeah, that's June. You remember June? (Whistles and calls) Juney, over 'ere, girl.

June: Some fah-in twat at the door asked ta see my ticket. I said 'gis us 'alf a chance, mate, I ain't goddit aht my fah-in purse, you caahnt.'
Oi almost thort Oi losdit, Del.

Del: Yer 'ere now, aintcha? Oh, this is Lady Victoria, remember.

June: Oh... please ta meet ya, ma'am. (Bows down gracefully and pushes out a trombone-sounding fart)

Del: Gordonnnn Bennett! Somebody open the fucking windows in 'ere. (Snatches Rodney's program and fans the air) smells like
baked bread down a sewer.

June (To Vicky, referring to Rodney): 'e wen' aht with my daugh'er once.

Del: Yeah, I made you think you fucked yer half-sister, didn't I, Rodney?

Victoria: Sorry, what was that?

Rodney: Oh, erm, Del mentioned what makes him laugh - scissors. Ha heh (sniffs).

The music in Carmen is copy-fucking-righted. No scene of Del throwing crisp packets, ice cream cones, thumb tacks and mud on the ground, and his
much-loved response to a disgruntled member of the audience: 'Don't 'shh' me, you snooty dickheadcunt' has also been removed

Ext. Theatre

June: What 'appened!? Why's there rainbow muesli dahn me dress?

Del: You had too many ice creams, didn't ya. I told yer not to go loopy with the old Lyons Maid, you 42 carat prannycaow.

Vicky signals for her car, but it's a Rolls Royce and can't be advertised, unless it appears in an Xmas trilogy. Rodney gets taken by Del and Albert
to a hunters' clothing shop the following day, but the premises and Tuesday are bloody copy-fucking-righted again

Country estate. Ext. Not copyrighted

Lord Maylebury: Have a go at clay pidgeon shooting, Rodney.

Rodney: Cosmic.

Del (Yelling, distant, fom the van): TALLY-HO, RODDERS!

Del alights from the van, explains his appearance as he fires a shotgun at a tree then he goes in the food tent, but the chicken/turkey/pheasant is
copyrighted - and dead - and cannot be televised anymore

Int. Maylebury Manor. Dining Room

Henry: So Rodney, I hear you went to art school.

Del: That's right, 'Enry. Rodney drew some stilt-limes, sketched a nude dolly-bird and all THAA-AAGHT. Great linework on 'er tits, (Pouts and cups
his pectorals) but 'e used too much graphite to accentuate the tart's fluff-cavern.

Prince Dosh: How long were you there for, old chap?

Rodney: Oh, er... three weeks.

Prince Dosh: Ah, three.... WEEKS!?

Rodney: I left for personal reasons.

Del: IT WASN'T 'IS PORNOGRAPHY. (Rodney cringes with embarrassment) Nah, it's alright, Rodney, nothing to be ashamed abaht. (To the dinner guests)
The wank pamphlets belonged to his roommate. Rodney went in there to borra some, 'ave a fizz over the tarts when 'e's finished a canvas.

Guest: Very interesting.

Del: 'ave you 'eard the joke I heard when I went skiing, it was about holidays?

John Sullivan: No, Del, don't! you're being rather cruel and embarrassing to Rodney. I'm sorry, viewers, I'm gonna have to edit this bit out.
Del Boy's a charming, lovable, working-class hero, not some insouciant, pissed-up wanker. But what about that episode where Del convinces
Rodney he's been accused of rape or similar, that wasn't particularly nice of Del. Oh, what do I know. SUDDEN EDIT!

Lord 'enry: THAT'S NOT A FFFFUCKIN' DA VINCI! IT'S A FORK, YOU LOWER CLASS CUNT!

The next scene skips and plays in a loop to fill up the time

Vicky: Are y-y-y-eh-oh-wuh-eeeh. Are you going to. Are you-you-you-you. Are you going to stay... stay... stay... o-o-o-o-or not?

Rodney glances at Vicky and appears very saddened and humiliated. Rodney's look is replayed for five minutes

Vicky: Y-y-y-y-yes. yuh-uh-uh-es. Ye-UHhHHhUhH-EeEeEEeEEeES.

Int. Trotters' Flat

Del: I'm sorry for standin' on that dining table with me Jackson Pollocks aht. Come on, let me shake your injured hand and grip it tightly.

Rodney: No, Del, it would hurt.

Del: Fair dos, Rodders. Let's have a manly hug instead.

Del and Rodney hug and pat each other on the back now, but that's copyrighted and so are the credits

Only Fools and Horses logo with stock music

[Glebe]

Feme: Stick a etc.

INT.NELSON MANDELER 'OUSE.DAY.

ROD: Del, Cassandra's lost another bairn down the back of the sofa.

INT.LIFT.DAY.

DEL: Wanna chat about it?

ROD: Ahem.

DEL: Oh... right, the lift's broken.

ROD: Great, we're stuck here.

Suddenly, the lift door's open.

THAT MICKY PIERCE: Saddenly chess became scrabble, and I've never got such gyp in me entire nether regions!

DENZ: 'ere la, have a bleedin' couch!

Del and Rodney are sat nice and comfy on the couch. RODNEY spies something... a plastic doll stuck in the sofa!

ROD: Oh, there it is! Cass will be well pleased!

DEL (to camera): Triffic! That's another mystery solved... on the Fools an' Horses!

[DangledTeeth]

Hole in Bum

Ext. Nag's Head. Day

Del: Oh gawd crikey bollocking TOSS, Rodney, we need a lucra'ive mis'ap to 'appen. (Indicating a beer keg) It would be very fortunate if that
rolled into somebody's arms, woo'n't it?

Rodney: Del, we can't nick it. It's immoral! But I guess it would sell for a pony.

Del: Oh, that is good thinkin', bruv. Yeah. I like the sahnd-a THAA-AAGHT.

Rodney: It sounds like you didn't have the same idea as me. What were you thinking?

Del: Er... Roll it dahn an 'ill for a giggle, I s'pose.

The Trotters pass an open hatch to the cellar of the Nag's Head

Albert: 'ello, Mike. 'ow's that knocked-off telly remote that Del sold ya?

Del and Rodney look alarmed and dash over to drag Albert away; they appear in front of an unimpressed Mike

Mike: I want a word with you, Trotter!

Del: Yeah, I'll be in your pub. Orwite. Office. Ha ha. (To Albert) What are you tryna do ta me?

Albert: What?! During the waaaar we used to ask landlords abaht telly remotes - it was traditional. People used to write on their roofs:
'Dear 'itler, you can bomb our 'ouse 'cause telly ain't that widely available yet, and we're so bored we've been reduced to amusing ourselves
by pain'ing messages on our roofs. UP YER SHIRT!'

Del: You do realise that when Mike tried to put on a cup match broadcast by BBC 'e almost stirred up a fuckin' riot.

Albert: 'ow come?

Rodney: Well that crappy remote put on Emmerdale Farm, the batteries fell out and bounced out of sight. The skinhead Rastafarian punks went loopy.
It was like being hit by a Zak Dingle free-kick.

Del: Yeah! And they're short an' cunty. (Looks at a puzzled Rodney and Albert and shakes his head and mouths 'I dunno')

Albert: You two go in the pub. I'll stand out 'ere and get cold on purpose, that'll give me an excuse to 'ave a rum to warm me cock.

Int. Nag's Head

Del: Pina coladas, LOVELY PUBBLY!

Barmaid: Del, come quick.

Del: I thought wankin' was banned in this pub?

Barmaid: Stop jokin'. Come with me now, it's your uncle Albert, he's had an accident in the back.

Del and Rodney follow the barmaid into a toilet and find Albert slumped against a cubicle door

Del: Gaw, stone me. (Wafts the air) You weren't jokin' when you said he had an accident in the back. It stinks of fuckin' ARSE BILE in 'ere. (To Mike) What happened?

Mike: No, Del, me neck's gone.

Del: I didn't ask about your fuckin' Gregory. I'm on about Albert.

Mike: I mopped the bog floors because the cleaner was off sick, and there was Uncle Albert speeding past me and he knocked me over.

Albert: I've shit meself... full-grown man and I've shit meself.

Rodney: There, there, Uncle. It's alshite. (Del turns and laughs and flicks his hand into Rodney's stomach)

Del: C-c-come alon-heh-ng, uh-heh-heh-uncle. Let's get you hah-home. We can have a nice walk, bit like Dukey... er, later on in the series

Rodney: Yeah... DOGS SHIT ON THE PAVEMENT!

Del and Rodney hunch over and laugh

Albert: We could sue the brewery.

Del: SUE THE BREWERY?! Put him down, Rodney.

Rodney: I haven't picked him up.

Del: Oh.

Rodney: If we sue, what can we say caused Albert to soil his briefs?

Del: Some arsehole. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

Rodney: I'll drink to that, Del. HAAAH HAAAH HAAAH HAAAAH.

Albert: HUH-ERH-HUH-ERH!

Int. Court

Del: I saw it all, ya Lordship. My Uncle went arse over bollocks and budged his fudge.

Mike wears a neck brace and shakes his head

Mike: AAAAAH!

Judge: Keep your fucking mouth shut, that man.

Mike: Sorry, Your Honour.

Del: It was a complete disregard for punter safety.

Judge: Yes, yes, quite. Next witness, please. Rodney Trotter.

Defence Barrister: Can you tell the court what happened.

Rodney: My uncle slid on some puddle then he dumped the dirt.

DB: And how did this happen?

Rodney: Well (Wobbles and makes his arms flail, then he blows air onto the palm of his hand, making a distinct squeaking noise
to impersonate flatulence) like that.

DB: I see. And there weren't any warnings signs, no 'Danger! Slippery surface' notice?

Rodney: No. I can remember... thinking. At. The. Time. Oh, no sign. That. Is. Hazardous. Someone could slip over and defecate in their pants.

DB: I have no further questions, m'lud.

Opposing Barrister: I have one more witness, m'lud. I call to the stand Albert Gladstone Trotter.

Judge: Put your hand on the Bible and read the card.

Albert: I swear-a tell the troof, the 'ole troof and naffin' baht the troof.

OB: Tell us a detailed account of what happened on the day of your accident.

Albert: Well... I was on me way to post me entry form to the Shitton Craptor, and then I slid on a pahddle of wa'er - BOMMF - I crashed inta the toilet
and the impact caused me to lose me brahn eggs. All these toilets flashed before me eyes - ceramic flusher in B&Q. Padded seat bog in Plumbase.

OB: Have you clipped off a peanut sausage in your knickers before?

Albert: Yeah, it was in the Nag's Head.

OB: No, no, no and no. I mean before that?

Albert: I can't remember. I think I 'ave. I was a baby, too young to remember having a crappy nappy, sahn.

OB: I understand. You have all your war medals to remind you of all the shit you went through.

Albert: You wanna try wal'ing it, pal.

OB: What?!

Albert: CONCORDE!

OB: I had a look at case files about breweries, it seems that they have been sued for a similar reason like this. In 1948, The Foxhound and Penis were sued by Albert Gladstone Trotter. Maybeeee you're the same Albert Gladstone Trotter who, in 1956, umbered his cockcloth in the Fools and Horses, Peckham. Maybeeee you're the same Albert Gladstone Trotter who arse-sneezed nuggets in The Weasel and Tablernackle, Stoke Newington, in 1958. Or perhaps your bot dropped the lot at the Goat and Twat, Wandsworth, 1962. Perhaps a malodorous mound materialising in your arse hammock in the Jumping Buffalo and Yoghurt, 1964, rings a bell?

Rodney: I don't believe 'im.

Del: He's been going in to pub toilets and convertin' his pants into a dirty Thorntons. I feel like a turkey who's caught Bernard Matthews shittin' on him.

Ext. Court

Del: I can't believe what that dozy old cunt has done. What was it the insurance companies nicknamed him?

Rodney: Plopper Trotter.

Del: Plopper Trotter.

Albert approaches in a wheelchair

Del: (Puffs cigar smoke into Albert's face) orwite, 'ow many pubs have you bum-burped and browned your boxers in?

Albert: Quite a few, Del. But the first time was an accident. I got compensation for it and thought ''ello, this is mucky!' so when me and yer Grandad were 'ard up for a few quid, I'd... (speaks in dignified manner) slip over and shit myself. You two have been good to me these past few weeks and I wan'ed to repay ya. And I... (poignant) wanted to get some money for yer Grandad's 'eadstone.

Del: You did it for Grandad's headstone?

Albert: He were me older brother, Del. 'e always used to wipe my bum.

Del: Come on, let's get you home, Kojak. (Del and Rodney push the wheelchair with Albert seated)

Albert: This is nice, boys.

Del: 'ang on a minute. You can walk, Albert.

Albert: I've got amnesia in me arse.

Rodney: Oh, so he not only shits out of his arse, he also talks out of it.

Del: Don't give me that bollocks, Unc. You can push me. (Del gets in the wheelchair and Albert and Rodney push Del along) LOVELY JUBBLY!

Credits

[Glebe]

EPISODE: IF UNCLE ALBERT COULD SEE US NOW (HE CAN!).

INT.TROTTER'S FLAT.DAY.

DEL: Well, that was a great 'oliday!

ROD: Yeah, if only Buster Merryfield came with us! We haven't seen him since he went sarf with Elsie Partridge!

DEL: Unfortunately, bankrupt. (holds arms out and speaks in deep, Shakespearean tones) Oh wooooeee, woooooeeeee!!

CASS: Just been on the phone, it's Uncle Albert... I'm so sorry!

DEL: Wot?

CASS: He's not dead! (cue thunder and lightening, as CASS reveals vampire fangs) Bwuhahaha!!

RAQUEL: Well, that was a bit unexpected. And nonsensical.

EXT.MARGATE OR SOMEWHERE.DAY.

As the Trotmobile speeds down the road, lovely, sad, trumpet music plays.

INT.ELSIE PARTRIDGE'S 'OUSE.DAY.

HOST: Have a glass of sherry each.

ROD: I'm Rod, this is my wife, Cassie.

DEL: I'm Del, this is my insignificant other, some nobody called Raquel!

ALBERT: 'ello, you lot, noice to see yah!

DEL: I feel bad now. We should have brought Albert with us.

ROD: 'e was 'appy here, with Elsie Partridge!

ALBERT: An' I still am, Rodney!

DEL: He'd been round the world more times than a current bun... but 'e never had a passport!

ALBERT: A-huhhuh! A-huhhuh!

LOUDMOUTH: Oh, that bloke? He didn't half go on about durin' the woah though, did he?

DEL: Pack it in mate, I'm tellin' yah!

LOUDMOUTH: Uncle Albert, with the bald head and white beard... goin' on and on and on, cunt!

DEL: He fought the woah for the likes of you!

ALBERT: I bet your sorry we won! Heuh-heh! Heuh-heh!

RAQUEL: I'm sorry, my significant husband gets carried away by turns.

LOUDMOUTH: That's all right, it may be a comical mix-up with another man.

EXT.HOUSE.DAY.

DEL: Sorry lav, but it gets my gander... (head shaking angrily) you'd have thought Boycie and the gang woulda turned ap!

BOYCIE (across street): We haz, Del... it's the wrong trousers, Gromit!

Suddenly they notice a plane made of flowers. Another UNLCE ALBERT, wearing goggles, is within. He takes off with a cry of 'chocks away!'

ALBERT: Alright, Marlene! Sid! Hasn't Mickey Pearce aged badly, wiv 'is crinkled face and everyfing! Rude boy!

[DangledTeeth]

Matter of Fact Series 1

Theme music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fB7X-qhF_vs

Big Brother

Rodney: I'm fucking off to a doss 'ouse, Del, to prove my independence.

Del: 'ave a great time, bruv.

a few days later

Rodney: Forgot me...

Del: ...Passport (Smiles)

Rodney: Git! Cosgit!

Del: Veronica's yacht or Nag's Head?

Rodney: Nag's Head. Might bump into those fuckin' briefcases.

Electronic Chess Board: WE'VE. GOT. SOME. 'ALF. PRICE. CARPET. DAVID. BOWIE. BUSH. BUSH. LPS. GOLD. TILES. BUSH. BUSH.

Go West Young Man

Aussie: Cockney Villain, is it a good car?

Del: Oh yeah, very reliable and cheap and has wanked-up brakes. COCKNEY VILLAIN?!

Int. Club

Del (To two women): WE'RE FACKIN' CONCORDE PILURTS WITH TENNIS RAHCKITS, SMO'IN' ASTRAAH TUUURF. GIS YA NUMBER, YA CUNT.

Boycie's Jag. Street. Night

Rodney: Del Boy. I just smoked that fag those women put their phone number on.

Del: YOU SHITTIN' PRANNY, RODNEY. (Del applies the brakes and the Aussie crashes into Del)

Aussie: Sorry, mate. Not very bonzer of me. These brakes are dodgy. (Realises) You!

Rodney and Del sprint off up the street with the incensed Aussie after them

Del: WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIIIIIRE? Oh, wrong episode.

Cash and Curry

Del (To turban-wearing man): Sorry for booting you in the bollocks.

Mr Ram: Let's have a discussion about a statue you can purchase for £8, tied up with family politics, culture and such.

Del: Mustard. Me and Rodney will raise money to the sound of Pink Floyd stock BBC music and get ripped off.

The Second Time Around

Del: Hello Pauline.

Pauline: Sexy blackcurrant lips Del Boy!

Int. THE FLAT

Del: DA-NA. DH-DH-DA-NAH-NAH-NAH. HRSSSK! Attenshyun R-Rodneeeey and Grandad. And old flame of mine will live with us,
whose two 'usbands mysteriously died and she was entitled to life insurance, and I get concerned and naff off with you dahn
to an old biddy's house who isn't really our Aunt Rose. And she gets revenge by lumbering us with a massive phone bill, not
AUNT ROSE HAS MOVED I mean Pauline.

Grandad (On phone): It's amazin', innit. ALLLOOOOOEH!

Del and Rodney: HANG IT UP NEXT WEEK!

A Slow Bus To Chingford

Del: Rodney, you've got a job as a security guard. Take this traffic warden's uniform; you're doing the night shift at a bus garage,
and the bus-on-loan is payment for your 'ard work. I'll shag yer bird for ya. LOVELY JUBBLY. This time very soon, WE'RE GONNA START
TROTTERS' ETHNIC TOURS.

The Bus

Rodney: TIT! 50-FOOT HIGH NEON TTTTTTIT!

Del: Why aren't they lining up?

Grandad: I threw the flyers down the rubbish chute. It wasn't me, Del Boy, it was Lennard Pearce

Del: I'll pierce you in a minute, you fucking divvy old cunt.

The Russians Are Coming

Del: I've built a fallout shelter.

Rodney: We should do a test run in the van.

Van. Street

Grandad: My shoe fell off.

Policeman: Hello Del. Please stop speeding.

Rodder: (Checks stopwatch) It's lunchtime. Oh, and we're bloody dead, mate.

Int. Fallout Shelter

Del: Let's fantasise about schoolgirls.

Rodney: In uniforms.

Grandad: War is hell. They promised homes and homes for 'eroes and those 'eroes never got a home in the home for homes.

Del: Very moving, Grandad.

Rodney: Goodnight. WE'RE ON THE ROOF!

Christmas Special: Christmas Crackers

Grandad: I fucked the turkey up. There are condoms filled with jelly stuck up its arse.

Del: GLOW WORMS! Ha ha.

Rodney: Bloody circus! BOO-OORING! Let's go to a club, Del.

Del: We can't leave Grandad 'ere on his own while we go aht clubbing.

Grandad: I'm off to get fuckin' wankered at the old folks' party. See yer.

Del: We're off out, Rodney.

Int. Club

Del: AN-EE-BI-OH-ICS.

Rodney walks like a twat

Del: Hello, unattractive women. Are you going home soon? You are. Good. We're not desperate - maybe for a piss - we only want your seats, please. Come on, Rodney, sit here, you embarrassed wallycunt.

Credits

[Glebe]

SPECIAL: MODERN HEROES ON OUR HANDS.

INT.CHEZ TROT.DAY.

ROD: Del... I've got something on my mind...

DAMIEN: Heh, Cassandra's baby!

DEL: Heh, he's a lad, innee?

RAQUEL: DAMIEN! You horrible little bastard!

DAMIEN: Shattup, wo-man, aye? Me tink oon-cal Rodney's a plon-ka, irie, irie!

ROD: All of saddan, Crash Bandicoot, becom Sonic the Hedgehog...

ENTIRE CAST: AND YOU'VE NEVER FELT SUCH SODDING PAIN IN ALL MY LIFE, MON!

DEL: Lift.

INT.LIFT.DAY.

DEL: Wanna talk about it?

ROD: Del, look out!

A rhino comes crashing into the lift.

DEL: How do you think Cassandra feels?

ROD: It's a rhino, Del!

PHIL CORNWELL: Oi, shah ap, I'm a yob, sod you lot, Cass' baby, I don't care!

DEL punches him. Two passing nurses smile, the audience cheers like a baying mob.

PHIL: Much better, thanks!

DEL: Bet you wish you'd gone to a private lift!

ROD: You git! You... (smiling) ...git!

[DangledTeeth]

Three Men, Two Women and a MISCARRIAGE

Int. Trotters' Flat. Evening

Raquel: Heartbreaking news, Rodney. Cassandra's in hospital.

Rodney: I-is my baby boy alright?

Raquel: No... the baby, erm, is... let's see... quite like the after-effect of when Del is asked to put the kettle on for a cup of tea.

Rodney: I don't follow ya.

Raquel: He didn't make it.

Audience: WUH-HAUAH-HEEEH-HAARGH!

Del: You saucy fuckin' caow. I always make dah cuppa tea.

Albert: I'm sayin' naffink, sahn.

Rodney: SHUT UP, ALBERT!

Albert: Millyuns of concordes!

Del: SHAHLAAAAAGHP!

Rodney: (Sniffs) Let's go to the hospital.

Int. Hospital. Corridor

Nurse (To Del, referring to Rodney): Is he the husband?

Del: Do what?! I'm not into that insects lark. Stonnnne me! That's my half-brother.

Nurse: I didn't mean the husband of you. I meant husband of the patient in room 14, she's called Cassandra.

Del: Oooooh. W'yeah, I knew THAA-AAGHT. Ha ha. Just a joke to relieve the tension.

Nurse: Before you go in, you must wear these. (The nurse gives two items of clothing to Del and Rodney) Health regulations. And visiting hours ends in 20 minutes.

Del: Cushty, let's put these on, Rodney, and erm, comfort Cassandra. Beh-ah nip dahn to the room lively.

Cassandra looks down the corridor from an open door adjacent to her bed. She squints and sees two colourful figures bounding towards her

DEE-DEE... DAAAH-DAAAAH... BEE-DEE... BAH-BAAAAH

Cassandra: It's Delman and Rodbin.

Del (Bursts into tears): HUH-haloeh, swuh'eart. AH-WUH-ERH-ERH-UH-UH! (Blows his nose) I'll let yuh-yuh-you and Boy Plonker have a delicate discussion. Must dash, duty calls. WAAGH-HUUH-HOOOH-HOOOOOAAAH.

Rodney: Cass, we are strong! We're gonna get through this. Boh-boh-bah-dohm-BAHBOHB. We can have sex again soon (a lecherous arch in his lip develops) IT'S COMIN' 'OME! IT'S COMIN' 'OME! IT'S CO-MIN'. FOOTBALL'S COMIN' 'OME!

Cassandra smiles and holds Rodney's hand

John Sullivan: To make up for my edit of Del Boy's lairiness and spiteful embarrassment of Rodney in Royal Flush, I feel it is right to include a transatlantic, near-version of Del for a cameo role to absorb past shame. Presenting for your viewing delectation... (RAPID DRUM ROLL)
STRUTTERSTRUTTERSTRUTTERSTRUTTERSTRUTTERSTRUTTERSTRUTTERSTRUTTER STRUTTER!

A New York lawyer wearing a dark blue suit, aviator glasses and an immaculate afro staggers in

Mike Strutter: How ya dowen, how ya ffffawken dowen. I'm gonna use a lodda bad language, so, if yer a cahckzuckah who takes offense easily, my advice is this: GO CUM ON YA MOM'S BUTT AND URINATE ON YOUR FFFFAWKEN AUNT'S CAT!

Nurse: Visiting time is over.

Mike Strutter: Check out the assh and tits on this fawken hospital bwoad. If I was pirate I wouldn't be grabben just her booty. No. I'D GRAB HER FAWKEN CHEST, TOO.

Cassandra: I lost my baby.

Mike Strutter: Yeah, I'm lost too, baby. How do I get oudda this cocksucken hospital?

Rodney: Through there and turn left.

Mike Strutter: Thank you, buddy. That motherffffucker Sullivan better pay me for this humiliating bullshit.

Rodney: Cosmic

Int. Nelson Mandela House Lift.

Del: The lift's fuckin' knackered, Rodders. (Sits next to Rodney) Let's talk about what's been happening lately.

Rodney: Like the load of curry-flavoured toothpaste you bought off Leopard Terry?

Del: Naaoh, you plonkertoss, being stuck in this lift. I'm frightened. You don't knoooow what it's liiiiiike. Dah-nuh-nah-nah-nah-nah-rah-nah-nah! Breakin' the laaaaw, breakin' the laaaaw. Oh sorry, erm, you don't know what it's like.

Rodney: I don't know what being frightened's like? How do you think I felt when Cassandra... (Struggles to talk further on the subject) I opened up my diary last night. I had hopes and dreams that I'd see Right Said Fred, and I'd have hair when I left school.

Del: You've got your hair, think 'ow those twonks on a comedy forum feel.

Rodney: I had a vision we were cruising along. Suddenly, Only Fools and Horses became Goodnight Sweetheart - just like this fuckin' lift (Del looks puzzled). And I remember this time when I had a Sa'urday job as a glazier. Dere was a maaaan at dah windaow. It wasn't a reflection; it was the manager, and 'e asked me to run me hand over a window to feel the embossed bits, and I never felt a pane like that in all my life. (Scrunches his eyes up and cries)

Del: Do you think Cassandra's hurtin'?

Rodney: Of course she is. It's like if we never talk about IT, I'd forget about that clown played by Tim Curry.

Del: I know. 'e was good in the Rocky 'Orror Show. (Rearranges wires in the lift) We're up and running.

Rodney: You did it on purpose.

Del: Yeah.

Rodney: 50-foot high neon letters spelling out 'TIT'... (laughs at Del's audacious ways) cosmictitgit.

Del: Let's dine with Raquel's parents.

Trotters' Flat. Lounge.

Raquel: That's my parents at the door.

Albert: I'll answer it, Raykel. (Opens the front door, to Raquel's parents) Good evenin', shipmates. Please come in.

James (To Audrey, quietly): She said he was older, nothing about jaw-pubes and a head like an ironed bollock, though.

Raquel: This is Derek.

James: Hello, Derek.

(Raquel appears a bit rigid, ready to wince at Del's usual trademark enthusiasm)

Del: Pleasure to meet you, James. (Turns to Audrey) Oh, and you must be Audrey?

Audrey: Yes. Hello Derek.

Del: And a hello to you, Audrey. Thanks for coming.

James: I've brought a bottle of port.

Del: Oh, that's triffic. How old is it?

James: About 18 years.

Del: This ought to be great. (Gestures to table) please, sit over here.

Raquel smiles at how ordinary and refined Del is for once

Del (Calling): Albeeert, get us a boh-ol openah, will ya. We're gonna get fuckin' 'ammered tonight. (Rubs his hands together) LAVVERLY JABBERLY!

Raquel's face plummets into dismay and goes towards the table. Albert and Del exit to the kitchen

Kitchen

Del: The wine is going dahn well like the Titanic with a shipment of anvils. Ha ha. What are you making?

Albert: I'm making the coffee.

Del: You can't make coffee that early; they haven't finished their main course.

Albert: It don't take us long to finish.

Del: Yes, I know, but we're not eatin' fuckin' McDonald's, our food is hot like it should be. It's sophisticated. We're conversing between each sip of wine.

Albert: No we ain't. We're aht 'ere in the kitchen.

Del: Don't get sarky, orwite. (Takes the coffee container and sniffs) What jar did you make it out of?

Albert: That one over there.

Del: Smell it. It's not coffee, it's fuckin' stinkin' stools.

Albert: It's those jars, it's 'ard to tell the difference.

Del (ironically): This one says 'Bisto gravy granules' and this one says 'Albert's Shit Nuggets For the Clinic, Definitely is Not Gravy'. It's a bit of a giveaway.

Albert: I was in a hurry and fucked it up.

Del: Yeah, just like HMS Gravyboat aht there. 'ang abaht, if the coffee literally is shit, then what are they pouring on their steak?
(Del examines the gravy jar and notices that the Bisto jar is sealed and a Kwik Save chicken gravy jar isn't completely full) Oh no, stonnnne me.

Lounge. Dining Table

Del and Albert sit down

Cassandra: Do you want any gravy, Albert?

Albert: No, not for me, dear.

Del: Oh, you'll have some gravy. You love your gravy. Cunt!

Everyone tucks in and looks uncomfortable

James (To Raquel): Darling, I don't mean to be disrespectful but this is atrocious bollocks, it tastes distinctly cheap. I will not eat it.

Everyone places a hand on their stomach and politely nod

Raquel: Alright, I'll get the chocolate fudge slice I made earlier.

Del glares at Albert. Albert reciprocates with a sheepish expression

''WE GUT SAM BATH PRIDE TEE-PEES GOAL CHANGE WOZZERNEM IN EDDORPOSS. VINEGAR RIPEST UNDER ROOOOOOOOOPE''

[Glebe]

EPIRSODE: A BIRD IN THE 'AND.

INT.LIFT.DAY.

ROD: Del... I've feeling a bit bluesy.

DEL: 'ave you talked to Cassandra about this?

ROD: Saddenly Strike It Lucky became Michael Barrymore's Strike It Rich!... and I've never been more disappointed with a gameshow format title change in all moi life!

DEL: I'm sorry, Rodney. Have you spoken to Cassandra about this?

GARY SPARROW (nee Robdall): Nah, she prefers Going for Gold with Henry Kelly - and featuring a theme tune by Hans Zimmer! Oh, and actually, Del, I'm not Dave... I'm Gary from Goodnight Sweetheart!

IMMIGRANT STOWAWAY: Gary! Gary!

JACK FROST (Del putting on 'tache): And I'm Inspector Frost!

GARY: This lift is really a time machine that I now use instead of the back gate to take me back to the War times!

DEL/FROST: Aw no, me/Del and Rodney/your half-brother Rodney get enough of that with Uncle Albert!

GARY: Alright then, let's see... oh, the time lift's working again, you git... me... git! Let's see if we can program the controls to go somewhere else!

The lift doors open. It is 'ye olden 'dayes'.

GARY: Excuse me kind, serf, what year is this?

VICTOR MELDREW'S ANCESTOR: I durnst believe it!

[DangledTeeth]

Tea for Three

Int. Nag's Head. Night

Del and Rodney enter

Trigger: Alright, Dave?

Rodney: Yeah, alright Trig. It's been pissing with rain out there.

Trigger: Yeah, a bit like this beer.

Mike: Oi, I heard that Trigger. My beer won second prize in a brewery contest.

Del: Then after that a clinic phoned Mike for some urine samples.

Trigger: I'm too stupid to understand jokes.

Albert: I've got sahm terrible news. Your Aunt Ada is in 'ospi'al.

Trigger (To Del): Oo's Aunt Ada?

Del: No idea who that cunt is. (Turns to a sour Albert) Oh, sorry.

Albert: She's me wife.

Del: Let's go dahn the Chinky, that'll cheer you up. Are you coming, Trigger?

Trigger: No, Del, my niece'll be here soon. You remember my cousin Lisa, don't yer, Del?

Del: Yes, I do, triffic.

Del is about to exit with Rodney

Lisa (Calling across bar): Hello Del.

Del (insouciant): Yeah, 'ello darlin'. (Double-take glance) Blimey! (Through a traffic cone) THAT LITTLE GIRL HAS TURNED INTO A BIIIIG SEXY WOMAAAAN, RODDERRRRS.

Rodney (transfixed): Costits.

Del: I think I'll stay 'ere for another drink.

Rodney: Yeah, me an' all.

Lisa: How are you?

Del: Brillyunt, darling.

Rodney: Hello, Lisa. Do you remember me?

Lisa: Oh, it's Nicholas Lyndhurst (Hugs him)

Del: You can come round the flat for tea

Lisa: I'd love to. Is that your uncle at the piano?

Albert: I'd like to dedicate this song to a special lady who ain't with me tonight. I'd like to think this song is about my dear sick wife. It's that boo'iful bah-larrrrd: 'Ghostbusters'. DOO-DAH-NHNG-ENGH-NAH. DOO-DAH-NHNG-ENGH-NAH. DIDDIDDEEDAHDEEDEE-DUD-DADADADA-DOODOODOO... DEEDAH-DEEDAH-DEEDAH. GHOSTBAAHSTAAAAHS. WHEN THERE'S SAMFING STRAAANGE IN YER NEIGHBOUR'OOOOOD. 'OO YER GANNA CAAAAAALLLL?

Entire Pub: GHOSTBUSTERS!

Trigger: Dave!

Int. Trotters' Flat. Night

Rodney lies asleep on a sun-bed

Del: Oh, so you wanna get a nice tan for that woman who appears in EastEnders in about 18 years' time? (Turns the dial to 'fuckin' 'ot!') Barbecued plon-kaaaah! Ha-heh-hah-hah.

(Later in the evening)

Lisa: It was a lovely meal, I really ought to be going.

Del: Red-face Rodney hasn't presen'ed you his selection of insipid cheese.

Rodney: Would you like some cheese, Lisa?

Lisa: No thanks.

Del: Got any edam under that face of yours. (Del and Lisa laugh uproariously

Rodney: What was it you used to call Lisa's mum?

Del: Miss 999. She reminded me of the emergency services because she was very quick and reliable.

Lisa: That's sweet.

Del: I'll give yer a lift 'ome. I'll get the keys and Rodney can formulate a revenge scheme for scorching his face. (Del exits)

Rodney: Erm, me and Del could give you lift home tomorrow.

Lisa: Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that.

Rodney: You don't have to. I've just put the idea out there a second ago. Yeah, it's Del's 94th birthday soon. And do you know what
his ambition is?

Lisa: What?

Rodney: To fly a spitfire. What with him being a milkman it's natural, in his veins.

Lisa: I'll arrange it with my friends for tomorrow.

Rodney: It'll be between us. Yes, I can't wait to see his squidgy face and comb-back hair.

Country Hill

Del: What?! You want me to fly one of them things?

Lisa: Yes, I'm sorry it's not a Spitfire. I could only manage a hang-glider.

Del: Oh, well, David Jason is a keen 'ang-glider. I mean I am a keen 'ang-glider'.

Andy: A stuntman will film your scenes, the insurance for you would be too expensive.

Del: Is that our phooooone I can hear ringing, Rodney?

Rodney: Nah, the lines engaged. (Smiles smugly) Get a fuckin' airborne tan, Del, you arseholing cunt.

Lisa: Oh, speaking of engaged, I didn't introduce you properly. Andy is my fiancee.

Del and Rodney appear shocked. Albert walks up to them

Albert: So she was engaged all along? HUH-ERRRRH-HUH-ERRRRH. What a coupla wallycahnts. GHOSTBAHHHSTAAAAAAAHS!

[Glebe]

EPISODE: GIVE RODNEY A LIFT, DEL!

INT.LIFT.AFTERNOON.

ROD: All of a sudden Rodney Trotter became Gary Sparrow, and Derek 'Del-Boy' Trotter became Jack Frost... and I've never felt such sodden pain in all me life, sodden!

DEL: Other roles included Jimmy Venables in After You've Gone and Freddie Robdall in Rock & Chips. Whereas I also went on to reprise my role as Granville in Still Open All Hours and played Captain Guy Hubble in The Royal Bodyguard, among other things.

BOYCIE (through door of lift): The Green Green Grass, with Sue Holderness.

[DangledTeeth]

What a Load of Script

Int. Trotters' Flat. Night

Del: Gordon United Cahlers of Bennetton, Rodney, me fuckin' ol' son.

Rodney: You sound quite chirpy this mornin'. Whassamatta you? Not received a bouncin' cheque? Why-a you not lookin' s'sad?

Del: I just-a bought an iPad, it's-a really fuckin' great, look at the brillyunt interface.

Rodney: So what are you doing with it?

Del: I'm on the old inbernef, ain't I.

Rodney: Del, that isn't an acceptable malapropism, you cosmic cunt.

Del: I fahnd this webbed site called cock'd and bumm'd.

Rodney: Is it a gay website?

Del: Nah, but it's got plenty of dickheads on there.

Audience: AuUuH-HUuuAaAH-HEeEEeH-HaAAah.

Del: It's for comedy. I've started this thread abaht matter-of-fact telly programmes. See, the objective is to ignore the MoF malarky and just rewrite yer own version of an episode or make up yer own one. No pranny wants to read, erm, Boycie and Abdul asking me if I'll smuggle diamonds from 'olland, then I say: ''It sounds very perilous and staggeringly illegal. I draw the line at being a courier in a small-time smuggling racket. I shall decline your admittedly enticing offer. Cheers, you know it makes sense.''

Rodney: Sounds like you need to be an arrogant fuckin' comical genius to write these things.

Del: Well of course, Rodders. I'm up for the task, bruv. After all, I am DT. (Rodney looks puzzled) DT as in Derek Trotter; and DT, the sexy 'orse with the mobile blowah. (Rodney frowns with o-shaped lips) Oh, forget it, you jubblydick.

Audience: AuUH-HoOoh-HUuuAaAH-HEeEEeH-HaAAah.

Del: Let's give it a whirl, shall we. (Types)

Theme Music: BUPPITY-BUPPITY-BUP. DOONAHNEEEH-DOONAHNEEH-DO-DAH-NEHNAHNAAAAAH etc.

Int. Strang Flat.

Tony's in his dressing gown, wearing a Corn Flakes box on his head. He plays an unplugged electric guitar

Tony: Dih-ba-de-dor-dih-ba-de-dor, I wanna shag De-bah-raaaah.

Deborah and her mum walks in

Deborah: Fuck off, you hair-to-your-ears plon'ah. I don't find you sexually attractive... in this series.

Cassandra's Mum: You shall not shag my daughter! She's too pretty for you. And she'll fuck up her looks with cosmetic surgery in later years. What about my actor son Bendydick Cumonyerback?

Tony: No! HE LOOKS LIKE A MELTED CAULIFLOWER STALK, YOU STUPID WOMAN! I'VE GOT A KEVIN KEEGAN PERM.

End Theme: BUB-AH-DAOW-DAOW-DID-LEH-DUHDUUUUH... BAOW!

Int. Trotters' Flat

Rodney: Give it 'ere, Del. (Del gives Rodney the iPad) It's my go. (Types on the keypad)

Theme Music: Thaaaaah LoOoOoOrRrRd is MuuUuUuh ShaaaYyyYrRrrR-PaarRrD etc.

Int. Vicarage. Day

Vicar of Geraldine: You're a bit of an eccentric nutfuck, aren't you, Alison.

Alison: Yes, yes I am. Shall we bake carbon dioxide with bunting?

Trigger of Dibley: ALRIGHT, DAVE?

Theme Music: Thaaaaah LoOoOoOrRrRd is MuuUuUuh ShaaaYyyYyRrrRrR-PaarRrDdDd etc.

Int. Trotters' Flat

Del: We're the Trotters, and we're back! (in unison with Rodney) UP YER FUCKIN' SHIRT!

''WEAVE COD SUN HARP PRIME CRAP TACKS, HUMP MILD AND MILD ON CARCASS PILES. TEE-HEE, TEACH ME HOW TO DAMAGE OLD TREES, F'GAWD SAKE, COME ON, MATE. WHAT'S NAME OF THE ELEPHANT? DITHER FRANCE DOES A LOT OF GOOD BUT THE CHEF HAS BOOKS! BOOKS! BOOKS! BOOKS! BOOKS! BOOKS! BOOKS! BOOKS! BOOKS! BOOKS! THE RINK WON'T COME BACK UNLESS YOU GAVE IT KNEES. NOTE: RUNNY CRACK. STAND ON PEE. BRAD, YOU'RE RIGHT. RIGGED THE PAW. LEAVE ALF GARNETT TO HAVE A POOOOOOKE. GUARD BLAIR'S DROOPING SHEEEEETS. FEED THEEEEE DROOPING SHEETS. LARD WITH DROOPING SHEETS. SAVE MAD FOR BEEF. DROOPING SHEETS. MAD FOR BEEF! DROOPING SHEETS. DROOOPING SHEEEEETS. DROOPING SHEEEEEEETS (Fades) DRRRooooping sheeeeeets''

[Glebe]

EPISODE: THREE MEN IN A BOAT WITH A CARDBOARD CUT-OUT OF TED DANSON.

Theme tune.

INT.NAG'S 'EAD.DAY.

TRIGS: If it's a woman they're going to call it Sigourney Weaver, after the Alien star. And if it's a man-child boy they'll call it Dave... after Roderney Trotter, Mike, for goodness sakes!

INT.CHEZ TROTTER.NIGHT.

DEL: These shonky porcelain dog wigs really will go down a treat.

RACHEL: Del, it's starting!

ALBERT: What are we gunna dooooo?!

DEL: Now, don't panic. Get a hot towel and go back to them war days!

ALBERT: Aye aye, cap'ain!

INT.CASS' FLAT.NIGHT.

K'SAAAANDRA: That's Del on the phone, go to the hospital.

RODKNEES: The full moon... the baying of the wolves... the dark one has returned, here in the village of Peckham Rye!

CASS: Rodney there's a dead rat in your pocket.

INT.PECKHAM GENERAL 'OSPITAL MATERNITY ROOM.NIGHT.

RAQUEL: Breathe deeply, Del. It's gunna be a stonker.

Del proceeds to get high on the oxygen supply.

NURSE (roaring at top of lungs): BRING ON THE MIDWIFE!

MALE MIDWIFE: I'm the male midwife!

DEL: You dirty perv!

RAQUEL: It's perfectly acceptable for male midwives nowadays, Del. Let him near me!

MALE MIDWIFE: Och, it's perfectly normal and professional, done it loads of times. Now let me see that lovely woman's minge! (rubs hands together sleazily).

ALBERT (right beside RAQUEL): I 'ate hospitals... full of sickness and death!

RAQUEL: Alright, Albert! (to camera) Now rejoin Rodders in the hallway!

ALBERT: Very well, 'Oos Rachel, moi dear. Here's a bottle of coke with vodka and a bacon sandwich from Mike for yah, love!

RAQUEL: ArrrrRRRRGGGGGHH!! Don't come near me again, Trotter!

DEL: My proximity caused pregnancy!

The MALE MIDWIFE bends down for a gander and comes up bald.

DEL: It's there! The babies a wig!

MALE MIDWIFE: N'no, that's me dodgy market wig... Del!

The MALE MIDWIFE puts the wig back on. It pops up and spins around, like Paul Daniels on Spitting Image.

DEL: This is the baby for realz, this time!

There is a newborn cry. A giant, pink jellybaby is lying before RAQUEL's twat.

DEL: It's... it's a li'ul baby, Rodney!

NURSE: Mither and dither are doing fine!

MALE MIDWIFE: It's a son, not a dither! Now if you don't mind, I discard my wig and live without shame, Del, oh Del!

INT.PECKHAM GENERAL CORRIDOR.NIGHT.

RODERNEY: What is it, Del? Son nor daughter?

DEL (rubbing legs): It is a son, Rodney, a baby son since you askted. With a giant willie.

Cue the music from the Old Spice ad. RODNEY looks shocked. Then suddenly - and unexpectedly - the umbilical cord, growing like a giant vine, whips down the corridor and wraps itself around RODNEY, knocking him to the floor as it attempts to strangle him. ALBERT tries to escape but his way is blocked by a giant Ray Harryhausen stop-motion animated THREE-HEADED HYDRA with the heads of GRANDDAD.

DEL: This is a farce!

ROD: (covered in ectoplasm, but having defeated the UMBILCAL with a nearby scalpel): Gasp... that was a close one!

DEL: Oh look - there's Oily Ollie and crew!

ELVIS COSTELLO: Well, when Oliver and his army get out of intensive care, I'm sure they'll have a few fruity words or two to says to you!

ROD: Fancy a pint, Elvis?

ELVIS: No thanks you Rodnobs... (singing) I'm a se-cret lemunade drink-ah!

INT.MATERNITY ROOM.NIGHT.

DEL is holding DAMIEN - now represented by a plastic doll - goes over to the window and pulls up the blind. It looks over at RODNEY, the screen freezing. The Champions League music plays and RODNEY's smile drops.

DEL: You're going to have all sorts of adventures, yes you are. You're the most 'perfick' thing in the world! I'm going to use you to fulfil all the 'opes and dreams I never 'ad! Look, there's Joanie Trotter, up there in the cosmos! And there's your mummy, Raquel, or Rachel, or whomsoever she is (RAQUEL smiles), and y'dirty old Uncle Albert - keep away from him - (ALBERT smiles, unaware of anything that is happening)...and Uncle Roderney, who thinks you are the doom of humanity (even RODNEY manages a smile, despite his fears about the harbinger of man's demise), and Roy Slater-

EVERYONE: SLATER!

ROY SLATER: Del, I want it back, even in that condition (points at RACHEL). I know this might sound silly now... well, it does sound flipping mental now... but I've got a nice little earner coming (rubs hands)... will you give it another go, Rachel, or Raquel or whatever?

RACHEL: On your Nellie, Roy!

DEL: Rodney, how'm I gunna get out of this one?

ROD: Act like your dead keen to get up into them old stars...

TRIGGER'S NIECE LISA and her intended ANDY hook DEL up to a hang glider. He flies off out the window into the night sky, still clutching DAMIEN.

JUMBO MILLS (shouting after them): This time next year, Derek, you will be that millionaire!

[DangledTeeth]

Come Back Home, Dickhead

Interim. Trotters' Twat. Ninety

Rodney: We've got to be a bit tougher on 'im if he's going to improve.

Del: I don't follow ya.

Rodney: Of course you don't. Twitter doesn't exist yet.

Del: Twanker? Oo's Twanker?

Speaking Chessboard: SHART. ARP. DEL. BERRRRT.

Rodney: Forget it. In this flat it's all hurly-burly and arguing. We mean nothing by it, but it's normality in our family. If we carry on being kind he might get accustomed to the pampering and remain the way he's been.

Del: You're sayin' we should be tougher?

Rodney: Well... the softly-softly approach ain't workin'.

Del: Yeah, 'spose yer right.

Albert enters, Rodney leans to rise off the seat

Albert: I'm not sittin' there, Rodney. I dahn a slash over it earlier when I told Del about the time I met Rory McGrath.

Rodney: Oh, very well.

Rodney stays seated and looks across at Del in a you-know-what-to-do manner

Del (muttered): Oh, of course. (Stands up and puts his jacket on. Rodney looks at Del, miffed) Orwite, Uncle. 'elp yourself
to a laaaarge ber-randy.

Albert: Fanks, sahn.

Del exits, Rodney appears transfixed and mystified; he grabs a jacket and follows Del

Peckham Street

Rodney: Oi, Del! 'old up. Where ya goin'?

Del: I'm off to do what you suggested, Rodders.

Int. Nag's Head

The doors swing open and Del approaches Trigger

Trigger: Hello, Del. Dave.

Del (Firmly): Now listen, Trigger, you pop aht to the shops and buy sahm fucking fish fingers. Trotter's Independent Traders hasn't been earnin' much lately, and Raquel's about to drop 'er cunt luggage. We need as much assistance as we can get, we don't need any ducks. It's either get out, exit or fuck the fuck off,  'cause you're no good to us the way you are!

Trigger (Sadly): Alright, Del Boy... I understand. See yer, Dave. (Exits)

Mike: Well that was a bit hard.

Rodney: I suspect Trigger will go missing. Let's get back to the flat and plan our routes

Nelson Mandela Estate Lift

Del: Oh, the bleedin' lift's naused-up for a fuckin' Kermit, ain't it. Let's have a sit and play 'ide and spy.

Rodney: I thought you were scared of lifts.

Del: Yeah, well I guess I ain't now.

Rodney: I've seen a side to this lift I never knew existed. How could you get over it so quickly?

Del: Get over it!? What a ffffucking prannycunt you really are, Rodney. Get over it!? What if I far'ed, what if I farted, bruv? We'd choke
on my guff in this me'al Rudedick's Cube. That's why I've always ascended the stairs. I'm Del Boy, ain't I. Good ol' Del Boy, he's got nothing to be down about, things are always lookin' up, loves tossing out shit puns relatin' to his surroundings when 'e feels like it. I didn't want to get in the lift, but I've had a few. And I've avoided using the lift for so long now the stairs are doing me pegs in. Oh it don't matter. What do lifts do for ya? They make yer feel trapped, bring you to the ground, and they... break down and almost fall apart.

Rodney (upset whisper): I'm sorry.

The lift whirs into life

Rodney: Suddenly, the lift was stationary and then it moved, and I've never been so pleased with an inexplicable repair in all my life.
Git..... Gitgitgitgit. You.......................................................... git!

Del: LOVELY JUBBLY!

Int. Nag's Head. Following day

Del: ...so I said, 'we've en'ered the Nag's Head'.

Rodney: Ha ha heh ha. Good one, Del.

Mike: Del! Trig's been missin' for about a day. I think you and Rodney should search for him to the sound of a Beatle.

Del: Nah, Rimbo Starg is too expensive. I prefer a musical animal of some kind. (Del, observing through a window, spots Boycie walking Duke across the road) Yes! That's what I'll do: I'll get a great Dane to do the singing. Ha-haaaah-heh-hah-hah-haaaah. Come on, Rodders, let's search for Trigger.

Paul McCartney (singing): We're so soh-reeeeee, Mr Triiiiiggeeeeer. (Paul's voice fades and a loud heavy-metal guitar riff blasts out)

King Diamond (Shrieking): MIIIIISTER TRIIIIGGERRRR HAS RUN AWAY FROM HOOO-OOO-OMMME, IIIIIS HE SAFE NOW OR ALL ALOO-OOO-ONNNE? (Facetious yet dramatic) HE'S A RRREEEALLY DAAAAFT TOSSPOT WITH A STUPID HEEEEAD. (Gruff snarl) HEEEE MAAGHST BEEEE DEAAAAAD!

A montage of Del and Rodney, around London, asking people as to the whereabouts of Trigger. Del is seen on a ferry eating an ice cream. Rodney approaches a Shar-Pei and says 'sorry' once it turns around to reveal it's not Trigger. Later, Rodney walks towards the van dejected; he suddenly has a eureka expression. Del speaks away to a gimp outside a Soho bar, his chatter is muted because of the background music. He fumbles with excitement and slaps a burger wrapper in the gimp's hand and gets in the Capri

Tobaccah Raoad

Del and Rodney exit their cars and approach Trigger, who's standing on the end of a dock

Rodney: Alright, Trig?

Trig: Alright, Dave and Brother of Dave, namely Del Dave?

Del: What are you doing running away from home at your age?

Trig: You told me to fuck off and get some fish fingers.

Del: It was a mistake, Trigger. I was supposed to 'ave a pop at Albert.

Trigger: Yeah? Is it cos he looks like that ship captain?

Del: No. Albert has been shaken up by that non-existent mugging, needed encouraging said Rodney. (Ponders what Trigger said) Ha ha, come to think of it, 'e does look like 'im.

Trigger: Yeah, he was a bit of a porker, but it was a good car'oon, wonnit.

Del: That's Captain Pugwash, yoooou cunt. I 'ad Captain Birdseye in mind.

Trigger: Well whatever. I LIKE AGATHA'S CHIPPY.

Rodney: Why'd you come 'ere, Trig?

Trigger: I was born around here, Dave. Ships around the world used to sail to this place. By the age of eight I could count the 28 letters of the alphabet.

Del: You were a bit of a divvy tit in those days an' all.

Rodney: Del!

Trig: There used to be boats from Jamai'a; bananas from a country; water in the sea; ragamuffins playing 'opscotch on a wall.

Del and Rodney pull a silly face in the process of attempting to visualise the last part

Trigger: Peo'le used ta dance all night to Frankie Lemons' Why Do Birds Fall In Love. They was human-beings, but they were alright 'uman-beings, Dave and Del. Someone pain'ed on the roof: 'Dear 'itler, you're dead. The war ended ten years ago; we're just occupying ourselves until the kettle has boiled' Now look what they've done to it.

Del: Fuck this glimmer of enlightenment and pathos, these expensive penthouses are cushty and are a part of my unrealistic dream.

Rodney exits sympathetically with Trigger

Del: Ah, rich living for me. I could 'ave a wank over Samantha Fox on a 22-inch Panasonic telly, 'cause that's 'ow big the biggest tellies were in these days. I could eat a currant bun with a rich Arab 'cause I'm a consume-a-cake-with-an-affluent-Middle-Eastern type of bloke. This time next year I'll be a penthouseanaire with a swollen wrist. LOVELY JUBBLY!

Int. Trotters' Flat

The door bell rings, Albert answers

Albert: Who's there?

Del and Rodney (behind door): TRIHGGUR'S ARN-EEEEEEE!

Del and Rodney enter with Trigger and see a familiar man wearing a sombrero

Del and Rodney (Stunned): SLA'ER!

Trigger: ...Slater!

Del: No, no, no, NO, Trig. Back in the 'all. Let's do this again properly.

Del and Rodney re-enter the hall and emerge from it

Del and Rodney: SLATER!

Trigger: Dave!

Slater: BAAAARP! Yes, it's me, in all my glory. I've come to win back my estranged wife Rachel.

The Artist Formerly Known as Rachel: My partner lives here. No chance, Roy! Nort on yer anima'ed pachyderm.

Del, Ray Charles, Rodney and Slater: SHUT UP, ALBERT.

Trigger: BE QUIET, RODNEY'S UNCLE!

Albert flinches and has his forearms raised defensively

Albert: I ain't said naffink... apart from nah.

Slater (To Raquel): Well... which one?

Trigger, Rodney and Albert are standing behind Slater

Del: What do you mean 'which one'?! I'm the only cunt here in front of you, you idiotic prannychuff.

Slater: Oh... yes... erm... uhm... Siberian pimp with a deaf-aid.

Del: Right, you're leaving this fuckin' flat. (Rodney and Albert restrain Del)

Slater: I don't think that's wise, Del. Your fax machine's photocopier is defunct. I have a wallet containing a letter from a diamond merchant.

Del: Eh?!

Slater: GASP! Raquel's pregnant!

Del: Yes. Don't tell me you thought she swallowed a space 'opper.

Rodney: Yeah, it was my word against 'is. I mean, you couldn't get that yellow mass of bollocks to do 70mph if you parked it off a cliff.

Del almost appears startled and offended at Rodney's blurt

Slater: Righto, Del, I may be a necropheliac teaboy instead of a bent copper, but I want the name of the mush who dipped his soldier into Raquel's trench.

Del: I did! (Smiles, holds up a tissue with a signature on it)

Slater: Oh... that tissue seems acceptable. I've got a train to catch. Do us a favour, Del, if it's a boy, name him after Damien. (Stands and turns before exiting to the front door) Oh and erm, Merry Christmas.

Del: Merry Christmas?!

Raquel: He's gone Del. Everything'll be back to normal.

Trigger: Del Boy, I've burnt yer pizza.

Albert: EH-DUUM-MAH-DUHT-DUUM-MAH-DUUUUR

ALL: OOOO-WAAAAH. OOOOO-WAAAAH. OOOO-WAAAAAH. YOU PLONKAAAH. OOOO-WAAAAH. YOU PLONKAAAAH. WHY DON'T WE FUCK OFF DAHN TA THE PAAAAHB - UP YER FUCKIN' SHIRT.

Trigger: VEST!

Credits