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

[Glebe]

EPISODE: A TOUCH OF FROST.

Feme song.

EXT.COUNTRYSIDE.MORNING.

LADY JANE POTTLE II: Look here, good serfs, would you be so kaynd as too tow me car home?

DEL (doffing his cap): Wotcher, ma'am will do!

EXT.GORMENGHAST CASTLE.MORNING.

HER LADYSHIP: Morris, plaeze escort this scum off mah premises.

JOHNNIE MORRIS: Very good, my lady!

DEL: Nah, nah, we've earned cream tea 'n scones at least, her ladyships!

INT.FRONT ROOM.MORNING.

LORD HEE HAW: What did you say you do, Trotter?

DEL: Wife does the ironing, I do the stealing! Lovely painting, y'lordship! Now don't tell me...

RODNEY: It's a Canaletto.

HER LADYBOBS: Yes, that's right! Young punk on first appearances, yet art-knower ye be!

GRANDDAD: Oi've made a few drops in me time!

INT.HALLWAY.MID-MORN.

HIS LORDSHIP (on phone): How do you clean chandeliers? I assume you whack on a bit of Windolene or summit. Two hundred pounds? Good day to you, sir!

INT.FRONT ROOM.LATE MORNING.

HER NIBS: I insist you now leave. You've spent qaite enough taime here.

HIS-SELF (looking at fob watch): Yes, er... look here, Trotter, it's all rather awkward but could you get the fuck out?

DEL: Yes, but before I got please except this shonky singing cat as a token of my love and affection.

INT.HALLWAY.DAY.

DEL: Wait a minute, nahw don't tell me... that chandelier, late period France, 300 carat, Faberge?

HIS HEE HAW: By jove, he's got it! Come into my parlour said the lordship to the fly, we shall open a bottle of Old Winyards!

DEL: I'll clean your chand-thing for an 'undred bunce!

HEE: Sold!

A foo days later...

INT.HALLWAY.MORNING.

JOHNNIE MORRIS: I can't for the life of me think why his lordship employed such dreadful riff-raff cunts as you, wark-wark-wark! (he then precedes to waddle out the door and open an umbrella, which lifts him Mary Poppins-style into the sky).

RODNOBS: Requires special equipment, madness.

DEL: You ready up there, Graaaaan-ddaaaad?

GRANDAD: Chocks away, Del boy!

DEL: Right, we've only got one shot at this, Rodney. The series is fucked and you're out of a job if we fuck it up.

ROD: The crew are in stitches.

The classic moment ensues, but with a bizarre twist, as a cheeky rhino pops it's head round the corner!

ROD: It's a rhino, Del!

GRANDDAD mounts the rhino and rides off out the front door.

GRANDDAD: Hi-yo, Trigger, awaaaaaaay!

HIS NOBS: I was going to press charges, but I will mistakenly blame the rhino on this scene of devastation.

HER NIBS: Please except this gross of dogs that sing the Siamese Cat Song on our behoof.

DEL (wryly): 'oos a pretty dog, then?

[DangledTeeth]

Original theme played by a glockenspiel and a deceased bone with innocuous hairline fractures

''This family purveys low-quality bum-gravel down a market. Oh, lots of funny mishaps. Yes. Funny mishaps. Multi-ethnic 'appy Peckham with a Bristolian flat. It's a very working-class setting. WOOOO-HO-DA-DOO-DOO-HAAAAH''

Del: Gorgonzola bendy! Wank it for a Sinatra, Rodders. I've bought a gross of spring-attached eggs containing traces of nitrogen. Lively jumble!

Rodneys: Brotherly conflict. 'armless.

Del: This is no time for jokes about quadrophenias.

Rodney: That's a funny malapropism, Del.

Del: I'll mellapupbism you one in a minute, you dozy little cunt.

Audience: PAAH-HUAAAH-MAUH-HEAEH-HAAAAAH

Rodney: Are we going dahn the market?

Del: Yes, Rodbey, it is our livelihood; our fuckin' job; a source of income. Money is important. That time SOOOOOON in the future, we are would will be sufficiently shittin' wealthy.

Rodney: Cough mix. I adore your optimism including your catchphrases. We better trudge on down to that place we call work.

The market

Del: Cheap products are inexpensive because there is a defect. I am an endearingly sincere salesman.

Man: This is not a foundation ballast for a Georgian mansion, mate. It is a fuckin' tuba.

Del: But all the good 'uns are musical instruments, sir. If you fit that brass musical thingamiloid under your gaff, you'll not only have state-of-the-art support for your wank cavern, you will also be revitalising bebop and ragtime.

Man: Oh, well thump me with a stetson. I'm terribly sorry for my slanderous opinion on your wares.
 
Del: That's quite alright, son. That'll be 4307 pounds, squire.

Rodney: Del Boy, could-have-been Derek has turned up.

Del: Blimey piss, Rodderblers, it's Inspeftah Broadbent.

Slater: I'm arresting you so you can be interviewed in my office.

Police Station. Interview Room

Slater: There has been something that's been quite puzzling to me, Rod and Delney.

Del: I did! (smiles) I... did! (Grins)

Slater: Ungh?!

Del: This is about a microwave, innit.

Slater: Ha haaaaah haaaah. Leave off, Del. This is more important than a fuckin' dinner dance floor. It's mainly to do with young Ropney.

Del: Now sla... ruh... sluh.. roh... slatertits, let's not involve Rodney in this. What are you gonna do with 'im, stitch him to a forged bus pass?

Slater: I'll see to it that Rodney is kept out of it, while Grandad is left all alone... standing alone and crying. Crying. Crying.

Albert: Oo's Grandad?

All: SHUT UP, ALBERT!

Rodney: Oo's Albert?

Albert: I'm your Uncle Albert. Oh, I remember naow: Grandad's me older bravvar, my two nephews and tall Del Boy lookalike. 'e always used ta look ah-er me. I'll cahm back in two years, sahn.

Slater: We'll look forward to it, even though I won't be at the funeral. Getting back to why you're here. Rodney, take this sheet of paper and read each word in elongated musical fashion.

Rodney: Yes... (clears his throat) WE'LL CUT PRI-CIZ ADDA STROOO-OOOOOOOOKE. GAAAHD BLESSSS HOOOKY STREEEEEEEET. EL PEEEES. BUSH! BUSH! BUSH! BUSH!

Slater: Yes! I knew it. You're the one who does the theme songs.

John Sullivan: No he doesn't. It's me who sings them.

Slater: Sullivan?!

John Sullivan: 'ello Roy. You were originally going to be selected as Del Boy, but you turned down the role for another actor to play Del.

Slater: (Gestures to Rodney, Del and Hoskins): Well... which one?

Del: Whaddya mean 'which one'!? Work it aaaht, you idiotic, slopey-nosed fannywagon.

Slater: (squints with disgust) Del is... Del?! (Turns to the camera) Oh, New Gate's fucking knocker with a deaf-aid!

End Theme: ''This is the end of the episode. They sell this, they sell loads of shit. Those two brothers sell it all. Yes they do. Unlicensed trading is glorious. Enamoured by a metaphorical road. London is triffic, my cuntin' son. UP YER FACKIN' SHIIIIRT! A-DOOBY-DOOBY-DOOOOOO. DAFFY DAHCK!''

[An tSaoi]

EPISODE 923 "BEING AND NUFFINKNESS"

INT: THE FLAT

DEL
'urry up Rodney, we need to get dahn the market! Woss takin' you so long?

RODNEY
I been finking Del.

Del pulls an exasperated face and rolls his eyes

DEL
Oh gor blimey that's the last fing we need! Right, what chew been finkin' Rodney?

RODNEY
Well, I fink that... nah it's silly.

DEL
Oh come on you soppy git. Spit it aht.

RODNEY
You see, I've been finking...

DEL
Yeah, yeah?

GRANDAD
Go on Rodney.

RODNEY
Well... I've been finking that existentialism is nuffink else but an attempt to draw the full conclusions from a consistently afeistic position. Its intention is not in the least that of plunging men into despair. And if by despair one means as the Christians do – any attitude of unbelief, the despair of the existentialists is sumfink different. Existentialism is not afeist in the sense that it would exhaust itself in demonstrations of the non-existence of God. It declares, rovver, that even if God existed that would make no difference from its point of view. Not that we believe God does exist, but we think that the real problem is not that of His existence; what man needs is to find himself again and to understand that nuffink can save him from himself, not even a valid proof of the existence of God. In this sense existentialism is optimistic. It is a doctrine of action, and it is only by self-deception, by confining their own despair with ours that Christians can describe us as wivaht hope.

Del and Grandad cackle with derisive laughter

GRANDAD
Looks like e's been reading that bladdy Gene Paul Sartre again!

DEL
Rodney, you plonker! Let's go dahn to the van you dozy git!

Rodney shrugs his shoulders and exits with Del

[DangledTeeth]

Rodney, Don't Take that Slapper to the Fucking Cinemmernar, You Dopey Jubblycunt

Del: Gorge on Fenders, me bastard fuckin' pile of precipitated wank-fodder.

Raquel: What's the matter, Derek Boy?

Del: It's only that twonky cockdick Rodbers.

Albert: Wossee dahn, Del?

Del: Well, 'e ain't done naffink... yet.

Raquel: I shall ignore your double negative.

Albert: Yeah, g'on...

Del: Rodbley's and Cassarsedra's relationship has been like a roller coaster.

Albert: What, you mean 'as in 'one big ride'?

Raquel: Or 'very thrilling'?

Del: Naaaoh, it's ends up in one big fucking mess, know what I mean, eh (Acts out a vomitting action)

Albert and Raquel: Oh.

Del: Cassandra's off aht to 'er evenin' class, and that plonker Rodney's going to try and make 'er jealous by takin' some tart to the flicks.

Albert: So Rodney's gonna get his leg over with sahm one-off bit of cunt while a film plays in cihsearndra's evenin' class?

Del: No, no, beardy testicles, the cinema is next to the fuckin' evenin' school.

Raquel: What shall we do about it?

Del: When Rodney comes in, you'll have to express disapproval for this disastrous idea, orwite?

Albert: Leave it-ah me, Del (Stands and salutes)

Del: Fuckin' conneries, we ain't on HMS Dookdozzers, are we? (They all turn to the front hallway door when they hear lock mechanisms making a sound) Quick! He's comin' in. (To Albert) Act like you dislike the idea.

Rodney enters and sits down at the dining table

Rodney: Alright?

Del: Triffic, Rodshirts. Couldn't be more brillyunt if we tried. Er... you off out tonight?

Rodney: Y-

Albert: HHHUUUAAAGHNGHNNNN!

Rodney: Yes.

Albert: HOOOOAAAAH!

Rodney briefly frowns at Albert

Del: I see, Rodducks, anywhere nice?

Rodney: Yeah the cin-

Albert: HUWEAAAAGHP!

Rodney: The cinema.

Albert sips from a cup filled with tea; Del bats a Financial Times in Albert's face as he drinks; Albert has tea splashed across his beard

Albert: HEYEEARRRRH! RODNEY'S GAH-IN TO THE FUCKIN' CINEMA, DEL!

Rodney: Yeah, I'm meetin' Cassandra after she's finished 'er evening class and then we're off to the cinema. Which reminds me, I better head off to meet Cass.

Del Oh almouste gote ze raung end erve le stique, as they don't say in France.

Albert: I fought for free speech, sahn, and I deserve to ask yer one thing for what I did for King and cahntry.

Del: Yeah, wassat?

Albert: Oo's Cass?

Del: SHADDAAAAGHP!

Credits

[Glebe]

EPISODE: A SHIT STREAK.

THEME.

INT.NAG'S.DAY.

TRUGS: 'ere The Daves, where's Del-Boy?

DAVENEY: Awh, 'es only gorn lost another pot on the cards!

TRUGS: It's a mug's life, Rodnees!

DEL: Alright Roger, Rodney! Half bitters on the 'ouse Mike, if you're in it yet!

RODS: 'ere, you ain't been pissing our cash up the wall on them cards, is yah?

DEL: Keep schtum, Lyndhurst, for a creeping Boycie approaches!

THE BOYCE: 'allo Del, just making my debut!

ROD: Cards tonight, all or nofink!

BOYCIE: Very well, David. Now if you'll excuse me I'm due back on the Rentaghost set, or possibly not.

ROD: Right! Oi, jus' as smart as you when the chips iz dahn! Taking back the empties!

DEL: Gotta hand it to 'im, Trig. What a total and utter TWENTY-FOUR CARAT CUNT HE REALLY IS!

INT.DELFLAT.EVE.

Cards are being played, beers are being drunk.

TRIG: Sorry lads, I'm out.

GRANDDAD: Fair dos, Trig. I seen too many good Trigs gaw dahn to the cards!

BOYCIE: Only me and you, Derek.

DEL: Call.

BOYCIE: Four 'undred.

DELL: I will see your four smackers and raise you... a fahsand!

BOYCIE: Oh no. No, no no, Del. I raise a 'undred grand!

DEL: Fffffff-fansands?

GRANDDAD: Play the game, san!

BOYCIE: Only one way to find out, Del.

BUSBY: Here Del, have a few grand.

RODNEY: Where'd you get that from?

BUSBY: Saving for a rainy day.

BOYCIIIIIIE!: Still don't cam to a trillion, Del.

DEL: Alright... there's me rings, me watch, Rodney, Grandad... and... and the flat!

BOYCIE: Still don't reach me target, Dels!

TRIG: Have me car - it's a banger!

DEL: It's a good 'un!

BOYICE: Doubt it - (turns to audience) - I sold it to him, to Trigger!

AUDIENCE: Haha, goodness me!

DEL: Alright. You may actually literally KILL ME.

ROD: Oi, what's your game?

DEL: 'es blaffing, 'es blaaaa-ffffing!

BOYCIE: Only one way to find out, Dereks... Call My Bluff.

GRANDDAD: Play the game, sunshine.

BOYCIE: Well, I got... Kings... and other flushes!

DEL: Fffff-FUUUUUUUCK!!

BOY: You should never play big boy's games, Del.

TRIG: Could somebody give me a lift home?

RODNAY: Dahn't worry Trig, I'll drop you home... ON OUR WAY TO THE RIVERSIDE CLUB!

TONY ANGELINO: Oh, you can dwop me off there an' all - k-WYE-AYE-AYE-AYE-IIIIIING!

AUDIENCE: Ahahaha!

JOE STRUMMER: I live by the ri-vaaah!

DEL: Wait, where y'going?

BOYCIE: Nah nah, folks... let little Del have his wee moments! Come on Del... let's see your two pairs of cheatin' aces!

DEL: Well I got aces-

BOYCE: -and-

DEL: Aces.

BOYCIE (raising his head skywards and going boss-eyed): FOUR FUCKING ACES?

DEL: I didnae know ye could do the old arithmetic y'self, Boyccciiiee!!

RODNEY: Four cards... four playing cards!

RODNEY turns and punches GRANDAD in the ear 'by accident'.

TRIG: I ain't never seen such a marvel in my 1200 years on your earthsphere!

GRANDAD (in close-up, popping his head next to DEL and winking to the audience): I thought Derek might be cheating with something up his sleeves!

DEL (hand on jowl, raising eyes): Oh, Tony Bennett!

BOYCIE (briefcase in hand): Well done, Del! Nicely plaaaaayed... (whispering to DEL) where'd you get them four smackers from?

DEL: The same place the camera close-up showed the audience of your sleeve, Boycie! I knew you was cheating because I cheated first by giving you different cards!

GRANDDAD: I knew, like the studio audience - and you at home - that Boycie, the Boyce, the Man Boyce, had saaaaaamfing up 'is greensleeves!

RODKNEES is tearing up the money and throwing it out the window.

DEL (laughing): Oi, Rodney, just what is your game?!

RODNEY: Cam on Del, let's take him up the arse again!

DEL: Nah, nah I-

RODNEY: We're on a winner here, Trig! Nice an' easy moi sa-

DEL (with unconvincing surprize): What? Yeah, yeah, of course! Here, Boycie, I always, I always like to see a man putting some back in the community... £200, double-or-odds, with this two-headed coin from the old British movies that Graaa-ddaaad gave me!

BOYCIE (dazed): Nah... nah-noo, Del, I'm all shagged and fagged out and need a lie-down...

ROD: HEADS!

DEL: Why I oughta-

TRUGGERS: Anyone fancy another horrible yellow-pack beer?

[DangledTeeth]

GOLD Programme Announcer: It's a double helping of Only Fools and Horses. Gawd blimey, y'cunt.

Audience in Our Ears

Theme: Stick the foam in the corset. I fell out of the fucking van.

Rodney enters the flat, sits down on the settee and lets out a satisfied grunt which alerts Del to enter from the kitchen

Del: Orwite, Rodders?

Rodney: Cosmic.

Audience: Urrh-heh-hm-haaah.

Rodney: Did you 'ear that?

Del: Eh? What are you gonna on abaht your ear for, you soppy old goat divvy mare?

Audience: Huah-heh-mur-heeah-hoh

Rodney: No, I mean... Oh! I asked if you heard something. As in 'did you 'ear that'?

Del: Oh, 'ear not ear. I get where you're coming from, Rodders.

Audience: Buah-heh-heh-huhm

Del: 'ang abaaaaht, what was that?!

Rodney: Yeah, see, that's what I can hear an' all, Del.

They wait anxiously on the spot and survey the room inquisitively, Del turns into Rodney and gives him a fright

Audience: BAAAH-MUUUAH-HAAAGH-HUAOAH-HAAUUUH

Del: Sorry, Rodney. Bit of a sharp turn, know what I mean.

Rodney: It's alright. There it went again.

Del: Yeah.

Rodney: It seems to get louder, for some reason.

Del: I'm gonna try sammink. (Del approaches the table, does his trademark jacket-adjusting and sips a cup filled with tea)
You can't whack a nice cuppa.

Audience: Ah-heh-huah.

Del's lips curls inwards as he pulls a huge smirk and does a cackle

Del: Rodney, come over to the chaise lounge and lie down, please. (Rodney lies on the couch) That's good, yeah, move your feet so they're resting across the arms. LAVVERLY JABBERLY!

Del goes behind the entrance hall door. Fumbling sounds are emitted. Del swings the door open widely. He appears dressed as Batman

Del: DA-NAAAAH (The door bounces off Rodney's feet and collides into Del - the door, not Rodney's 'ooky street. He enters appearing lightly dazed) DA-NAAA-NAAA-NAAA-NAAA-NAAA BATMAAAAAN! DA-NAAA-NAAA-NAAA-NAAAAH BAT-TERED! NOO-OOOSE! ROD-NEY! YOU PLON-KAAAAH!

Audience: VVVVRRAAAAAAUGH-HAAAAGH-HOOOOOOOHWWW-HAAAAGH-HEEEEH-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Del: There y'are, look. It's laughter for when we do sammink really funny, innit, eh.

Rodney: Yeah, 'spose yer right, Del. Let's discuss this in the Nag's Head.

Int. The Nag's Head

Mike: Evening, Del and Rodney.

Del: Orwite, Mike. Can I have one Reala Madrias - that's a mixture of Malibu, dash of 5-Alive, then you add a minuscule drop of Vimto and pour a stout of yer choosing in there. And Rodney'll have something plain and less exotic.

Mike (trying not to laugh): A packet of ready salted, Rodney?

Rodney: I love 'im! I just bbblllooody love 'im! Nah, 'arf a lager, please, Mike.

Audience: Buoagh-heh-haaaar

Mike: It's that sound again.

Trigger enters

Trigger: I bought one-a those lagers with a five pound note the other day. I came in the pub through the door on the right when I often go through the door on the left... no, no, tell a lie, I went-

Rodney: TRIGGER! Me, Del and Mike are intelligent people. We do not openly discuss our alcoholic purchases for the gratification of the nearby punters, nor do we prattle away about two entrances to this beer factory.

Del: Yeah, we've got a lot on our plate, Trig.

Trigger: Yeah? Burger and chips with onion rings?

Del: Naaooh, naaoh, Trig. It was an idiom. Come to think of it, you're a bit of an idiomt, ain'tcha.

Audience: HAAAGH-HEEEH-HAUAUAH-HOUAAAH

Mike: It's that bloody laughter again! What's it for? Where's it coming from?

Del: Dunno. Me and Rodders have been hearing it at the flat.

Trigger: Per'aps we're existing in a fictional universe where people, at a television studio, laugh at all the scrapes and adventures we 'ave.

Rodney: If that's true, who did you think's devised it, Trig?

Trigger: Agatha Christie or Jeremy Beadle.

All including Trig: YOU FUCKING 56-CARAT PRANNYTWONKCUNT, TRIGGER, 'AVE A BLERDANAAAH. AWROIGHT DAAAAAVE!

Credits

[DangledTeeth]

A Losing Streak and a Winning Streak

Int. Nag's 'ead. Afternoon

Del (with pretence): Gaw, spunk me dry and call me a weasel for a pound, me ol' motherfucker.

Mike: Good day at the market, Del?

Del: Yes, mah saahn. You know that consignment of 400w bouncy desk lamps I purchase off Neville the Cunt yesterdee?

Mike: Yeah? Oh, don't tell me... (grinning)

Del: I sold the fuckin' lot. WE FELL IN LOVE IN A BRO'EN PLAAAACE. (Del momentarily appears distinctly mystified, then he suddenly switches back to the jubilant Del) I'll have a double absinks with a sprinkling - a sprinkling - of Cuprinol.

Mike: I'll mix one up right now. I 'eard you're a bit of gambling man these days, Del.

Del: That's right, Michael. He who dares... gambles.

Mike: Is that right you've got a poker tournament (Del mouths 'shut up' to Mike) at the flat... (mutters) oh, sorry.

An unimpressed Rodney turns to glare a scowl at Del

Rodney: A poker tournament?! At our flat?!

Del: Yes, Rodneeeey. But you've mispradounced it, aint you, eh. It's a poke her tournament. Boycie, Me and Trigger - and you an' Grandad, if ya like - are gonna watch some tart get a stiff up her slit and bet how long it takes the bloke to spill 'is milk - the closest prediction is the winning one.

Rodney: Lewd sex acts and gambling?! Well that just makes it worse!

Del (defeated): Oh, alright, Rodney. I wasn't gonna tell ya. I'm playing cards with Boycie, ain't I. Trigger's coming an' all.

Rodney (ironically): Is Trigger going to produce a wad in this non-existent gangbang, then?

Del: Don't get dip, you saucystick!

Rodney: But we've got fuck-all cash to rub between our kneecaps, Del. Don't piss this week's shopping money dahn the toilet, son.

Del: But I've got to. I'm a conceited trier with a precious reputation to uphold.

Rodney: My lord, it's like something out of Dickens times

Boycie wanders in with a smirk on his face, and a cigar in the shape of a pair of aviator sunglasses. He's wearing a suit which looks like ironed coffee ice cream

Rodney: (Referring to the modern gaudiness of Boycie) Then again, maybe not.

Boycie: 'ello, Del Boy. I'm looking forward to tonight's game. (Coughs and pretend-sneezes a wad of 50 pound notes onto the bar) Aoh dear. I must be suffering from an illness. (Pushes a few notes into Del's breast pocket and pats it) Keep it warm for me, eh, Del. HA-AGH-AGH-AGH-AGH!

Del: He's a cocky cock, innee, eh? Alright, Boycie, I'll bet you 12 quid an' eighty-six pence that the next bloke who walks in here is a clean-shaven Englishman who orders a pint of Caffreys.

A bearded Irishwoman enters

Irishwoman: I'll have pie and cheps, pleashe.

Boycie: It really pains me, Del. (Grabs his winnings) I'll see yer tonight.

Del approaches Boycie menacingly

Rodney: You ain't gonna hit him?

Del: Naaooh, you plonkertart.

Rodney: Oh, I woulda loved it.

Del: I'm gonna have a toss.

Rodney: Del, not here. You've proven countless times what a thorough wanker you are.

Del: Not THAA-AAGHT sorta toss. Stonnnne meeee. I'm talking about a toss of a coin - with a one-sided version.

Rodney: 'ow can ya? You gambled a tenner and all of yer change.

Del: JUBBLY FUCK!

Int. Trotters' Flat. Evening

Trigger: I'm too daft to understand the rules of poker. I'm off out of this one.

Boycie: It's between me and you Del.

Del: I didn't know you were good at maths, Boycie.

Boycie: Oh yeah, Del. Nelly the Elephant!

Del: Right, I'm all out of cash... or am I? (Holds up a false moustache and looks at the camera as he twitches each eyebrow with intrigue, accompanied by a dramatic flare of trumpets) I've got a wad of notes hidden in the microwave.

Boycie: Nice one, Del, I like your style.

Del: I'll see ya for 50 pounds.

Boycie: Alright, Del... 55 pounds.

Del: FFFFifty-ffffive?! FFFFFromage ffffucking ffffrais.

Boycie: It's gonna cost ya 60 quid to see my cards, Del.

Del: I'm out of cash, Boycie.

Grandad: Play the game, son. Del's fucking skint!

Boycie: Well get off the pot, Del. Do summink.

Del: Alright, this Victorian egg-timer. (Places a Harrison lesser watch on the table)

Boycie: Leave off, Del. It's a worthless bit of toss.

Del: How about Trigger's car? It might be a fucking rust bucket that he got from your auto-trading company, but you'll get your money back.

Boycie: Don't be a tit, Del. Trig can't fuckin' drive. 'e ain't got the dexterity to operate the cunt.

Trig: I can a drive a car, Boycie... but not very well.

Boycie: Yes, I seem to remember you managed to defy the conventional way of evaluation by giving the instructor top marks.

Rodney: What do you mean? Trigger wrote down a score?

Trigger: No. I left tyre prints over the instructor's tits.

Boycie: How was Trigger supposed tah know that red means go like the Clangers and park the car means plough it through a fuckin' wall and almost kill a woman?

Del: You can have the possessions in this flat.

Boycie: No, don't be absurd, Del Boy. Your dining table by itself exceeds 60 quid.

Del: Alright, you can have two of the legs.

Boycie: I'd like to 'ave a drink while you decide.

Del: (Pulls two drinks out of a box) I've got two Aces.

Boycie: Cheers Del. (Opens and takes a large gulp)

Del: I've got it, (adjusts a strap on his wrist underneath his shirt cuff to release a watch) This is good 'un, Boycie. It's made by Rotrex.

Grandad: I thought Del might have an acceptable gambling prize up his sleeve.

Boycie: I'll accept that for 60 quid. Show us your cards.

Del: Well, I've got all the kings in the pack. What about you, Boycie?

Boycie (Tentatively): Two jokers, a blank one and some useless production info.

Rodney: All the kings in the pack and his watch back. (Turns and shouts in Trigger's ear) GRANDAD! Oh sorry, Trig. Grandad, he's got all the kings in the pack and his dodgy timepiece back.

Grandad: I thought Del Boy might cheat.

Boycie: Well done, Del. (Hissing) Where'd ya get those fuckin' kings from?

Del: The cardboard pack.

Boycie: Oh. I'll leave, dishevelled and humiliated. (Boycie fucks off aht of it)

Del: It ain't that much of a victory, really. I've won 60 quid and got me watch back.

Rodney: Yeah... No, 'ang on a second, Del.

Del: What is it, Rodders?

Rodney: Check what Boycie left you when we were in the pub earlier.

Del: (Del feels a paper wad in his shirt and pulls it out in segments) I've got pair of 50 quid notes, another pair of 50 quid notes, and eight vermilion Elizabeth the Seconds.

Rodney: Oh, I'll drink cheap lager to that, Derek.

Grandad: I thought Del might have 800 quid up in the breast pocket of his shirt.

Del, Rodney and Grandad: HA HA HA HA!

Trigger: I've got a hard-on in me trousers.

Credits

[Glebe]

EPISODE: THEE FOR TEA!

The theme.

INT.FLAT.EVE.

DEL: Rodneys, I sincerely apologise for turning up the sunbed while you were asleep. It was childish, stupid and above-all dangerous.

ROD (pause): Alright, Del. I can see you are genuinely sorry. It's okay, brov.

LISA: 'ere, Del, wouldn't it have been hilarious if you'd have got up in them old clouds and done loop-the-loop over Dimchurch and everyfing?

THE END.

[DangledTeeth]

Theme Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ImUXZDtvDhM



Int. Trotter's Flat. Int. Int. Int

Rodney's in the lounge, reading a newspaper on a bench lined with cushions. Albert sits diagonally across from him

Rodney: I'm thinkin' of getting a different job.

Albert: Why's that, sahn?

Rodney: Well workin' for Del doesn't guarantee a full living wage, and I've got Cass and the baby to think about. I need something substantial and regular.

Albert: I get what yer mean, sahn. I'm gonna keep my opinions to myself.

Rodney: I respect that, Uncle.

Albert: I think it'd be an ahtstanding opportunity, Rodney. You should go for a new job.

Rodney: You know what that'll mean if I get a new job?

Albert: Whassat?

Rodney: You'll have to model lurid clothing for the pun'ers.

Albert: Oh, yeah (Pulls a sour expression). During the war...

Rodney: Oh, gyawd, did you sink a fuckin' submarine, Unc? I think I might have 'eard it before.

Albert: During the war there was a war.

Rodney: Is that all?

Albert: ...Yah. (Indicates the view out of the balcony window) CONCORDE!

Rodney: (Looks enthralled at a newspaper) There's a great advert in this paper (reading out aloud) 'A successful, growing local business  requires an astute, well-educated individual to work in financial development and sales - computer qualifications advantageous but not essential. Contact the chairman on (hums as he reads the number) for a telephone interview, you know it makes sense'. That sounds right up my street. Oh, but what if I'm successful? What do I say to Del?

Albert: Dan't worry yerself, sahn, 'e'll understand. It's not like you'll be solely missed.

Rodney: (contemplative yet relaxed) Yeah, he won't mind. He's done alright by 'imself before, and I need to... (Pulls a double-take glare at Albert) what do you mean I won't be solely missed?

Albert (plainly yet reassuringly): Well, you're a member of the family, ain't ya, and you live 'ere. It's not some 'ard-working, valuable bloke who won't be seen again after changing jobs.

Rodney: Yeah, that's what I thought. (Punches out a number on the phone)

Albert (mumbled, to himself): Del said you're as about as useful as a pair of unsold socks. And a prannycunt.

Cuts to Del and Raquel's bedroom

Del: My job vacancy ad 'as appeared in the Peckham Echo. I think Rodney would appreciate the extra 'elp.

Raquel: Yeah, with the baby on the way he's bound to need it.

The phone rings

Del: Could you answer that, Raquel?

Raquel: Why? You're sat on the edge of the bed.

Del: It says so on me script. And sound like a right posh tart.

Raquel: Alright. (Answers the phone, in barely convincing received pronunciation) Hehloeh, good arfternoooowuhn. May I ask who's cawlling, please?

Rodney (On phone): Oh, good afternoon. I'm Rodney Trotter. I saw your advert in the Peckham Echo.

Raquel: (Hand over receiver, To Del) It's Rodney!

Del: Rodney!? What's that divvy tit phoning me for?

Raquel: It must be that advert.

Del: But he's got a job with m... I'm gonna wind him right ahp. Put him on hold.

Raquel (on phone): Please hold while I put you through to ahwur marketing depawtmont.

Rodney appears bewildered at the sound of Monster Mash playing on the phone. He turns to look behind him

Rodney (calling): Raqueeel! Dellll! Turn the music down, please. I'm, erm... I'm, trying to watch the telly.

Del (On phone, Scottish accent): Hello, Jimmay.

Rodney: No, my name's Rodney.

Del: Oh etaz RRRRudney, izat. That's a tarrifac nehme. The fockin' noo. Have ye called aboot the job vicincy?

Rodney: Yes I have. May I ask who I'm speaking to, please?

Del: Erm... Paul Mycocke. (Winces from supressing his laughter)

Rodney: Oh, a pleasure to speak to you, Mr Mycocke.

Del: I'm sarry, pahwl, w'did ye sey y'surname waz?

Rodney: It's Trotter.

Del: Ye're not wunnav the Trrruhtter brothers, are ye?

Rodney: Yes, I am. But I'm the tall one.

Del: Ah riiight, Jimmay. You're not the sexy one wiv the flatcap and a huge cock?

Rodney: Nah, (laughs briefly) he's hasn't got a big 'un, he's just a massive cock.

Del: (Seething, almost advances to the bedroom hallway but pauses) That's guhd, sohnny. I've heard that Darehk Truhtter
is a bit of an audacious fockin' shetbag.

Rodney: Yeah, that sounds about right.

Del: Ah've got tae speak tae my secratareh fae two mannuts. I'll be wiv ye shartly.

Rodney: Yes, I appreciate it, thanks.

Del enters and stands in the doorway to the bedrooms and picks up a traffic cone, Rodney's back is facing Del

Del (Through cone, amplified): RODNNNEEEY!

Rodney: FFFFUCK!

Del: Don't beee scareeeed, you plonker. Stay on the beeeeench. It is your Grandfatheeeer.

Rodney (Frozen to his seat): Oh, hello, Grandad. Wh-wh-what do you want?

Del: WhatdoyouthinkIwant, youslipperylittlecunt. (Clears his throat away from the cone) You've been applying for a job when you're partnered with Del.

Rodney: I need to advance me career, Grandad. Cassandra's baby's on the way.

Del: 'oooo's Cassandraaaa?

Rodney: She's my wife.

Del: You musn't accept this jooooob, Rodney. Del needs yooooou.

Rodney: Yeah, I guess you're right.

Del: You've beeeen a good grandson, Rodney. Apart from the time you got me an emperor fuckin' burger instead of a cheeeeeesebuuuuurger.

Rodney: Now don't start that again, Grandad, I told you I couldn't afford it. And that reminds me, it's Pottier.

Del quickly makes a run for the kitchen

Del: POTTEEEEERRRRR!

Rodney: Pottier!

Del: Potter says Grandad Trotteeeerrrrr!

Rodney: IT'S FUCKING POTTIER!

Del's in the kitchen

Del (On phone): Whart wuz that, Jimmay?

Rodney: Oh, I just sneezed.

Del: Ah, fah a secund I thought you said I wuz a black actor.

Rodney: No, I didn't. What will my duties be?

Del: Ye'll have tae brahng lots of questionable merchandise from the storage garages.

Rodney: Yes, that sounds agreeable.

Del: And you'll store et in the supplied cohmpaneh vehicle, it has three wheels and it's yellow.

Rodney's face drops, Del stands behind Rodney

Del: Ah'll thenk it'll be a fahmaliyer sight, Mehstar Trrrruhtter. (In his normal voice) 'cause we're always looking out for English arseholes like you.

Rodney: Did you put this ad in the paper, Del?

Del (Through the traffic cone): Noooo. it was Grandaaaaad.

Rodney stands up and throws a cushion at Del

Rodney: Fucking giiiiit!

Credits

End theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mCv5zfJnmw

[Glebe]

ALL ABOARD FOR THE MOVIE-LENGTH SPECIAL: THE JOLLY GOOD OUTING!

Theme musics.

EXT.MARKET.DAY.

MARLENE: Look after Tyler, Albert.

ALBERT: You might grow up to be a sailor and die a hero... (poignantly) but then again, maybe not. (wobbles head humourously).

TYLER: THIS IS YOUR LIFE AND IT'S ENDING ONE MINUTE AT A TIME.

INT.ROD+CASS' FLAT.NIGHT.

YUPPIE: Okay, yah, hey, support Chelsea.

DEL: Let's play Subbuteo!

ROD: General Nature: What has twelve legs, 25%, Tropic of Capricorn?

DEL: Biro!

ALAN: I'm going to Margate, jellied eels!

WIFE: *shocked*

BANANARAMA: Help, I need somebody, help, just not anybody, help - Rodney's glum! - he-e-eeeelp!

INT.BUS.DAY.

DEL: Here, everyone, Denzil has AIDS of the ear 'ole!

DENZIL: Thanks a lot, Del!

DEL: Mine is not to reason why, mine is just to poison, lie! (hands DENZ a bell).

DENZ (a la Rodney in the lift): You... git... you (smiling through tears)... git!

INT.PUB TOILET.DAY.

SNAZZY BLOKE: Here, Mike and Del, have some concessions for me club - and shake me pissy hands!

MIKE: I'll tell you what, Del, this OCD's a bugger!

DEL: Too right, Mike, now pass the hand gel - I've used up all me soap, two, three, four-

TOM ROBINSON BAND: - OCD! Wash and count as you waste away the hours!

INT.BUS.DAY.

RODNEY and friends are stomping along. Suddenly BOYCIE grabs a microphone.

BOYCIE (singing): Everybody's talkin' at me... I don't hear a word they're sayin'... I'm just sellin', dodgy ca-ars!

ALAN: Let's stop for a game of footie beside those policemen, son-in-law!

Half an hour later.

EXT.ROADSIDE.DAY.

DEL: Well that's Rodney got a slap on the wrist, now back on board you lot!

Suddenly a laser blast shoots out of the sky and blows the bus up.

INT.MILLENNIUM FALCON.DAY.

LANDO: We did it!

NIEN-NUNB: Yub-yub-yub!

EXT.ROADSIDE.DAY.

ALBERT: I've just realised, this episode has the most cast members ever. Okay, no Granddad obviously... no Slater. Is the one who isn't Jevon in it? Sorry, racial.

JEVON: I'm not sure, Albert. Me and Denz makes two non-whites in any case. And yes, no Granddad, for obvious reasons - but we still have one old goat! Ageist.

EXT.MARGATE.DAY.

Various goings-on at the fair.

PAUL BARBER (mouthing): FFFFFFUUUUCCCK!!

SID (in a future documentary): If you look closely, you can see Paul Barber swear! Hasn't the one who plays That Mickey Pearce aged badly? Chicken-neck.

EXT.BEACHROCKS.EARLY EVENING.

DEL: I only wish the Father with the ugly mug and horrible voice were here.

ROD: Stop it, you'll set me off! Come on, Andy!

BILL & BEN: Flobalobalob!

GRANDAD (behind a rock): Ooh, they're tired!

SLATER (yawn): Yeah, better call it a day!

CHRIS: Come on Grandgoat, let's go home!

EXT.BUS STATION.NIGHT.

TRIGGER: Everyone is gone and I'm confused.

INT.NICE HOTEL.NIGHT.

JEVON: Lovely shower, hot potato!

MICKEY: Sloo! More expensive champagne, Denzil?

DENZIL: Don't mind if I do, Mickey! Chortle!

CAT: Meow!

ALBERT: Gercha!

INT.HAUNTED HOUSE.NIGHT.

ROD: Del, I feel uncomfortable sleeping with my great uncle. Let's go clubbing and meet Raquel again.

DEL: Yeah, you're probably right, Rodney.

INT.NIGHTCLUB.NIGHT.

RAQUEL: Del!

The doves escape.

INT.RAQUEL'S FLAT.NIGHT.

DEL: Oi, what's 'e doin' 'ere?

DEL punches STEPHEN.

RAQUEL: Del, he's a queer!

DEL: Oh, sorry about that mate!

STEPHEN: That's alright, thag you berry much, doctor! I could do with some fresh air, you two get reacquainted! Help yourself to my wallet! Take all my belongings! I love you! Now I'm going outside to freeze and bleed!

ROD (to camera): That was very understanding of STEPHEN!

AUDIENCE (canned laughter): Ahuauhughthahahahgha?!

INT.CASSFLAT.NIGHT.

RODNEY punches a yuppie.

YUPPIE: That's alright Rod, I deserved it!

THE END.

[DangledTeeth]

Recurrent Line from Miami Twice Mixed with the Intro for If They Could See us Now

The Trotters are zubiltrillionaires. There's a montage of stock market-chasing Del, Rodney, Cassandra, Raquel and Damien driving around California in a limo, stopping by at hotels and glimpses of Del, with a salad mask, on a beach. Music plays over the montage

[DAN-DAN-DAAAOOOW-VVVVVWWWEEEEOOOOOOO-PSH-KSHK-DUMDUMDUMDUMDUMDUM etc.]

Peter Garrett (singing): Ahhght waahr thur rIiiVuh Broo-Oo-OoKe, Thaar Blaahdwud aaaand thur dahzeeEeErt AaaoAk. HooooldEn Wruuhcks aaaand BBBBBBahlin' dezowwwwls. Steam in FaAawdeEeEeee-FiIiIve DuhGreEeEeEees.

Group: THE TIME HAS COME... TO SAY FAIR'S FAIR... TO PAY THE RENT... TO PAY OUR SHARE. THE TIME HAS COME... A FACT'S A FACT... IT BELONGS TO THEM... LET'S GIVE IT BACK.

[DAN-DAN-DAAAAOOOW-PSSK-OOHMP-OOHMP-TFFKHK]

Group: HOW CAN WE DANCE WHEN OUR WORLD IS TUR-NING. HOW CAN WE SLEEP WHEN OUR BED'S ARE BUR-NING...

Del: WE'RE NOT AUSTRALIANS! JUBBLY FUCK!

[DAN-DAN-DAAAAOOOW-PSSK-DOMPADA-TENGA-PSSK-DINGY-DEE-DOHMP-PSSK-TFFFFFFKHK]

May the Force Be With You

Slater: For the last time, Del Boy, Who nicked the fuckin' microwave?

Del: (Holds up signed immunity from prosecution) I don't know. (Smiles)

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Uncle

Del: Albert, were you mugged?

Albert: No, Knock-knock punched me in the eye.

Rodney: Oi! There was a punch-up to end all punch-ups! Oily Ollie and his heavy-metal biker-style mob beat up that lot near the jukebox. It turns out they weren't coppers, they were skinheads.

Del: I don't give a plonking fuck, Rodders. I didn't pay them to get revenge on Albert.

Albert: They better not try anything with me, I was Navy boxy chamyurn when I was a young man. But as an older man my reflexes are
poor, stamina drained and co-ordination certifiably fucked, so this young group of lads would give me more than a black-eye; they'd
thump me sammink devasta'ing until my beard explodes.

End Theme: WE GOTTA LAUGH RICE CRAP TAPS.

Sleepless in Peckham

Rodney: Is Reg Trotter my dad?

Del (Talking behind Darth Vader mask): No! HWWUUOK-PPPPAAAAAOH! HWWUUOK-PPPPAAAAAOH! I am your half-brother!

Rodney: Was he, Freddy the Frog, like me?

Del: Froddy the Freg was a contemptuous arse-pebble, a deceiving cuntsack, but a very audacious, dynamic bloke who was very sociable and much-loved by the lo'als; he could charm the knickers off a frozen feminist with his arse tied around his ears. So no, Rondbey, you ain't anything like him!

Rodney (Ironically): Oh thaaaanks. 'ang on, he seems to have more in common with you than me.

Del (Mumbles): Don't wur talk uhbout it.

Rodney: It's a bit funny that your dad, when he turned up one Xmas, looks about tens years younger than Grandad and about ten years older than you.

Del: ALRIGHT! We're not half-brothers! I'm... I'm just a short-arse. I can't explain why I don't look like our dad.

Rodney: Maybe you inherited Mum's genes.

Del: Mum wore skirts, you fucking jubblycunt!

WE GOT SOME BUSH BUSH BUSH BUSH

Credits

[Glebe]

GOLD PRESENTS: A EXCLUSIVE CLIP OF RARE FOOTAGE FROM LOST EPISODE 'STRANGE FRUIT'.

Cue poignant piano music. The camera pans across Sir David Jason sitting in a kind of minimalist exhibition of OFAH memorabilia.

SIR DAVID JASON: Such was Sullivan's genius that he would often come up with 'lost' episodes with unseen footage. I remember one day he came in with a new idea. Apparently his father was a bit of gambler and ran a fruit and veg stall. I said "John, where do you get your ideas from? Me and you are both from ordinary, working class backgrounds yet you're a genius? But he rather modestly ignored me. Aaaanyway, the long and the short of it was, this was supposed to be a kind of follow-on from 'A Losing Streak', only this time Del and Boycie are betting on fruit!

INT.NELSON MANDELA FLAT.EVE.

GRANDDAD: You went all that way on two rotten pears?

DEL: I thought he was bla-fffffing!

GRANDDAD: Well he fucking well wasn't!

[Glebe]

EPISODE: SHELTER FROM THE STORM.

Theme's tune!

INT.BOYCIE.DAY.

DEL: I squeeze onion stuff in iz 'air gel!

INT.NAG.DAY.

ROD: Captain Corelli's Mandolin.

DEL: Heh! Albert's ashes. Duty free scam! Come on, you lot!

EXT.SEA.DAY.

DEL: I scatter Albert's ashes.

ALBERT'S ASHES: Cheers, Del! See you around, mate!

EXT.FRANCE.DAY.

DEL: Ooh, Betty!

ROD: Show some decorum, Del! Some of these 'eroes gave their Albert's for you!

INT.CAFE.DAY.

GEORGIE MOLYNEAUX: Sure, your uncle was highly popular around here, so he was. He used to put it about a bit, so he did. Sure what about ye, Ballymena, aye!

DEL: How do you mean 'put it about a bit', Wee Georgie Pie?

GEORGIE: Sure didn't he get up to all sorts so he did, aye. Heh heh, sure he was up more chuffs than marches up the oul' Gurvakky Road, so it was! Sure how about ye?

ROD: Del... look! Everyone is bald with big, white beards!

DEL: That's a comic exaggeration 'n no mistake, Mr. Crowman!

GEORGIE: I've got an oul' hunger on me. Sure let's g'non to a lovely little bistro I know, where the satirical nonsense can continue.

INT.BISTRO.DAY.

GEORGIE: You might be surprized to learn that I also knew your Granddad, so I did. Sure while his brother was busy up the road, Granddad spent his time around here, and with crushing inevitability, see how everyone has a sad face, bristly moustache and hat!

ROD: Haha! This could go on for ever!

DEL: Wasn't Aunt Renee known as the village bike around these here parts?

GEORGIE: Heh, indeed she was, and see how everyone looks like Joan Sims!

ROD: It's like bloody Being John Malkovich in 'ere!

AUDIENCE: Haha!!

EXT.NELSON MANDELA'S GARAGE.NIGHT.

TRIGS: 'ere Denz, it's an illegal!

DENZIL: The scally git!

DEL: 'e could be one of them Al Qaedas - topical, noughties!

ROD: We could look it up on the World Wide Webs?

INT.TROT.NIGHT.

GARY: Gary! Gary!

AUDIENCE: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

RAQUEL: He is automatically parroting! Only wimmin bleed!

GARY: Gary! Gary!

AUDIENCE: HUHOFHOFHOFHOFHOF!!

DEL: Give 'im some carry!

ROD: Del, just because he is foreign does not automatically mean he eats curry! Perhaps he enjoys other cuisines, from the far-flung corners of the earth!

GARY: Curry! Curry!

AUDIENCE: Woooofwofwofwofwofwof.

BOYCIE: Del, my house has burnt down and it's your fault.

DEL: You can kip on the couch, Boycie. Move over Slater!

BOYCIE: 'es still here?!

DEL: Yeah - (corpsing) he fell dahn the back of the sofa, hahaha! (Jason looks to camera. The camera swoops in madly.)

AUDIENCE: Whatwhatwhatwhatwhat?!

HUW EDWARDS: And now a newsflash. A dangerous terrorist has fled the continent in a truck. If found, please hand him in to police. The end.

ROD (smiling): Well, that wraps that one up. (to camera) Goodbye everyone, and see you again!

[DangledTeeth]

GOLD Programme Announcer: Here are two OFAH Xmas specials, which we put on around the same time yesterday evening, for your viewing delectation.

Time on our Hands

Del: Let's go in the lift, go up for Raquel's dinner with 'er parents.

Int. The Lift

Del: Fucking Jubbly plonkertits, Rodney. I have stopped the lift on purpose so that you can tell me how you're feeling. Spill the booze!

Rodney: If I don't talk about Cassie's miscarriage it's like it never 'appened. Life was great. Suddenly, The WHSmith adverts turned into
three series of After You've Gone, (Choked-up tone) urnd Oi've nevugh felt poain loy tha' in awll mar life... apart from the time I slid out the roasting tray without wearing oven gloves.

Del: The lift is working again. Dinner is a few floors away. (Del indicates the button panel and smiles lovingly at Rodney)

Rodney: Heh-huh-heh-sniff-heh... (His eyes have a damp sheen) youuuu... er... wait! Wait! Whatwasitagain? Oh... youuuu.... bell-end! Youuuu... heh-hah-hah... BELL-END!

Dinner

James: I better not have any alcohol.

Del: Go on, get utterly shit-faced, son. You can leave your car here and sleep with Uncle Albert.

James: Pour on, Rodney. It's vital I stay in the vicinity of your garage, because I need to peruse your collection of not-quite antique music
records and make a lucrative, life-changing discovery.

Del: I'll pop out and get some more wine in the kitchen.

Kitchen

Del: That coffee smells like Bisto. Ahhh... Maxwell house!

Albert: I'm not colour blind, but I am illiterate when I attempt to read jar labels.

Del: BEARDED CUNT! You'll have grounded coffee beans on your beef and potatoes.

Int and Ext. Estate Garage

Del: These are not David Bowie LPs.

James: They're not to my liking as an antique dealer. But this pocket watch would sell for plentiful cash.

Int. Sotheby's

Auctioneer: We'll start the bidding...

Del faints. Rodney wakes Del in the corridor

Rodney: The bidding's still going.

Auctioneer: 6.4................................................... mi...................lli................ on........ pounds.

Rodney faints

Ext. Sotheby's

Del: Shall I go first or shall you?

Rodney: It would be unusual for you to sway about and cheer your head off and I join in later on.

Del: Let's go at the same time and make the van shake about, could give the impression to pedestrians that we're having a shag.

Del and Rodney: WEEEE HA HA WAHOOOOH!

Int. Boycie's Showroom

Rodney: I'm gonna buy that Rolls Royce out there so that Del can make a witty pun about his purchase of Mike's food.

Boycie: Ha-agh-agh-agh-agh-agh (Reads the Sothesby's sale letter, his laughter increases and suddenly stops) Marloiine!

Int. Nag's Head

Del: A round of your rolls, Mike. Because Rodney got me a new car.

Mike: On the 'ouse, Del.

Del: Nah, Mike, Boycie wouldn't let his cars go for free (pause, Del smirks, the pub laughs) intonation, innit, that's the joke.

Montage of wealth accompanied by music

Music: OUUUUUUR HOUSE IS VERY, VERY, VERY FUCKIN' NICE.

Empty Flat

Del: Cigar from the jar.

Rodney: I've come back for one last look at the place.

Albert: Me an' all.

The phone rings, Del answers

Del: You've got shit to sell? I'm interested.

Rodney: We're not in the trading game now, mate.

Del: Trotters' Independent Traders has... ceased trading. (Replaces receiver) Who wants to be a millionaiiiiire? I am.

Ext. Nelson Mandela Estate

Del: Let's walk towards that sunset.

Albert: Concorde!

Rodney: Cosmic!

Boycie: Can you smell onions?

Del: Wrong Xmas special, Boycie.

All: TIDES OF THE FUCKIN' DAVID BOWIE LPs! UP YER FUCKIN' SHIRT, MAH SAAHN!

[DangledTeeth]

Matter-of-Fact Xmas Special - If they Could See Us Now

Montage of the Trotters travelling in a limo. Music: Ricky Martin - Living on Coca-cola

Ricky Martin: She's into su-ub-mission, huge black dildos and bu-utt pluuuuugs.

Del opens a newspaper, mortified, and spits out a lit hotdog

Del: Oh Gordoun Bennette au la fucque!

Int. Courtroom

Del: The stock market naffed up for a pubic.

Rodney: And we were partying like it was 1929.

Barrister: Fuck!

Del: Inland Revenue have taken our luxury abodes.

Barrister: Fuck again!

Int. The Flat

Del: I can't run TIT, there are legal problems. You can, Rodders.

Raquel: Albert's fuckin' brahn bread!

Del: The dirty CAAHNT! I told 'im not to interfere with me Hovis.

Raquel: No, not literally.

A funeral

Roland (Puts on whispered yet pronounced voice): 'Keep the old coals at bay' - remember that one?

Del: Ungh? No. I thought it was 'during the waaaar'

Roland: I'm Roland. I was married to Albert's niece. He loved his cognac.

Del: Albert's niece?! I ain't 'eard of 'er. And Albert was definitely a rum bloke.

Roland: Oh, maybe this is the wrong funeral.

Del: Yes. Don't you see they gave us the freedom to wander into other people's funerals.

Damien: G'on, Dad, kiss his nose!

The Trotters exit and find the Nag's Head bunch smoking cigars up the road

Int. The Flat

Rodney: (To Cassandra) Let's liven up sex by dressing up. (Hands her a piece of paper)

Cassandra: Yes, Let's dress up and have a fantasy bonking session, Rodney. (Hands Rodney a sheet of paper)

Rodney: How am I supposed to look like 'im?

Cassandra: I'll be fucked if I know.

The phone rings, Rodney answers

Mickey Pierce (On phone): It's the Sultan of Brunei, I am interested in your advertisement.

Rodney: It's a pleasure to speak with you, sir. Del! It's the Sultan of Brunei.

Del: You prannycock, Arabian royals do not read south London newspapers.

Mickey Pierce: GAW BLIMEY, GUV'NA. HA HA

Rodney: Yeah... yeah I knew it was you. Oh cunt it! (Puts phone down)

Trigger: It's the karao'e version!

Del: I'm going out to appear on a gameshow.

Rodney: (Didn't listen) Yeah, 'ave a good time. Me and Cass are going to pork in costumes.

Del: And who are you meant to be, Rodders?

Rodney: Rhwuhsell Cwowe

Del: RRRRRussell Crowe!? (Exits. To himself) MORE LIKE DAFFY FUCKIN' DAAHCK!

Gold Rush Studio

Jonathan Ross: A hard question for you, Del. Phone-a-friend cheat?

Del: Yes, phone me brother Rodney.

Rodney: Hahlaoeh!

Jonathan Ross: Hello Wodney, it's Jonathan Wush on Goldwoss.

Rodney: Oh fuck off, Mickey Pearce, you irritating bastard fuckin' wanker cock! Stop prank calling me. Cunt!

Jonathan Ross: No, it's not Mickey Pearce, Wodney. Look at the telly.

Rodney: Oh... hi, Jonathan. I do believe I swore a few times, I'm very sorry. You're definitely not a cunt.

Jonathan Ross: That's alwight, Wodney. Del is he-yah on Goldwush, and he needs ya help.

Del: Alright Rodney, the actor Telly Savalas played which fictional detective... is it: A) Inspector Frost B) Kojak or C) Columbo

Rodney: Kojak! 100% Derek. (Hangs up, to himself) Ha ha! Take it away, Derek. (To Cassandra) I know my Greek-American bald actors.

Jonathan Ross: It's wwong!

Del: Wong?! There were no Chinese surnames there... (realises Jonathan's rhotacism) Oh, yes, sorry.

Jonathan Ross: It's not Kojak, nor is it Inspectah Fwost!

Del: Yeah, I 'ad a feeling it weren't Kojak because Kodak make cameras!

Jonathan Ross: Sowwy Dewek.

Del: And I know it wasn't Inspector Frost 'cause David Jason played 'im. (Looks at the ceiling) You plonkerstick, Rodney!

Int. Trotters' Flat. Night

Del enters, fuckin' drunk

Rodney: Er... had a good evening, Del?

Del: No!

Rodney: Me neither.

Del: Well fuckin' snap! I was in this bar and I was talkin' to a lap (notices Raquel behind him) llllap... llllap... laptop dancer, and she said it was Codumbo.

The phone rings. Del answers

Del (on phone): Hello... yeah... (puts receiver to his body, to Raquel and Rodney) They've phoned up to say you were right, Rodney.

Rodney: I knew it was Ravel! Erm, sorry, I mean Kojak.

Del: Oh, have a day off, will ya. It's a prank call, you can hear a man on the phone (Rodney listens). Its Mickey fuckin' Pearce. (In receiver) Er... I tell you what you can do with the prize money, you can stick it where the sun don't shine - and I ain't referring to Cricklewood. And don't call here again or else I'll kick your arse into shredded Daffy Daaahk! (Hangs up) We're the Trotters.

Rodney: And we're back!

Del and Rodney tap glasses in celebration

Del and Rodney: YYYYYYEEEEESSSS!

Credits

[Mr Banlon]

2015. After the dismembered remains of conman Arnie and his two sons are found in a shallow grave in Epping Forest, Derek Trotter, Rodney Trotter, Terrance Boyce, Colin 'Trigger' Ball and Denzil Tulser are arrested and charged with kidnap and murder.

[DangledTeeth]

Comic Relief Celebrity Special 2015

Starring: Danny Dyer as Del Boy, Mackenzie Crook as Rodney and Ray Winstone as Uncle Albert.

Int. Brightly lit redesigned Trotters' Flat set lowered onto Comic Relief stage

Del: Rodney, did ya sell those Mean Machine DVDs?

Rodney: Yeah, all 20 of them.

Del: Nice one, bravvaaaaaaaar! 'ave you dahn the washin' ahp?

Rodney: No!

Del attempts to stare menancingly at Rodney but looks like he's caught a waft of dog dumpling

Del: Youuu plonker! Why not? Get it finished naah before we go dahn the Nag's 'ead for a few sherbs.

Rodney: O-aar, sirrrr! Anything you say, sirrrr! Barrah me dar-er, sirrrr!

Rodney looks at Uncle Albert Winstone Trotter

Uncle Albert: Woh dun't look ah moiee Oi'm nurt gonna tell yer what-a dooeh!

Audience: BUAGH-HAH-HOAHR-HUMOOGH-VOAHAH

Danny Dyer: Whatcha bladdy larfin' aahtTTTT! Eh?! Fackin' pover'y! Should be ashaAaAamed of yerselves! (Photo of an impoverished African boy appears on screen) Some of us go for days withaht a nice cuppa Rosie Lee; this bloke 'asn't 'ad a fackin' Rosie Lee in 'is loife, not one cwumb 'as been mashed dahn by his roast beef. D'ya know why? Because aht in certain rwregions of Africaah they don't get a decent meal. So remember that when yer walkin' ahp to the salad section of 'arvester and put an 'elping of kidney beans, pasta, crou'ons, lih-ul cubes of beetroot and that red sauce that you scoop aht with a ladle and place inta a bowl. Tonight, you're gonna make a differwrence! You'll pick up that butter an' scone and dial or text yer donation, or else my beguiling otter eyes will stare at your boat while I'm outside yer patio. Thank you, you know it costs a few pence.

Camera pans in on Ray wearing a white beard
 
Ray Winstone: Woh dun't look ah moiee Oi'm nurt gonna tell yer what-a dooeh!

Fuckin' Plonker

Int. Nag's Head. Night

Del: Rodney, I'll bet you a fiver I can make you use your catchphrase to start off your answer to my question.

Rodney: Alright, go on.

Del: Why are Simply Red songs credited to some ginger bloke with wavy hair.

Rodney: Cos Mick Hucknall sings them.

Del: Who wants to beeee a fivernaiiiire? I am.

To Hull and Back

Int. Nag's Head. Side Room

Boycie: Del, me and Abdul are prepared to give you a whopping fuckin' copius splodge of money if you smuggle diamonds from Amsterdam.

Del: I'll do it, Boycie. Now you've reminded me of that woman I knocked abaht with. (Singing) Diamonnnnds are for Heath-thaaa!

Adbul: BBBBloody foreigner!

Boycie: No, that's Shirley Bassey, Abdul.

Del (Singing): Noooow Whhhhen IIIIII waaaas a laaaad, and oOOoOold Shep waaaas a cunt.

[DangledTeeth]

Easter Special

Episode Confusion

Int. The Flat

Del: And after Monkey 'arris and Paddy the Greek's wives 'ad a fight, this female copper turned up - and you know what Rodney's like about uniforms - he said 'I-I'm thinkin' about gah-in to the pictures tomorrow. D'ya fancy going, y'cunt?'

Rodney: Well speaking of coppers, I've bought your old mate round for a coffee.

Del: Yeah?

Slater enters

Slater: Who nicked the microwave that's as black as New Gate's knocker?!

Del: This is supposed to be Long Legs of the Law - where you bring a female copper to the flat. It's not supposed ta be May the Force be with You. You prannycunt, Rodney.

Rodney: Aooh yeeeeaaaah!

Slater: Who's the mush who gave Rodney the money to buy me a 6'0'' doner kebab with a deaf-aid?

Del: I did?

''Tiiiides of the BUSHBUSHBUSHBUSH''

Del: I've got a pair of aces.

Boycie: Yeaaaaah...

Del: And I've got another pair of aces.

Boycie (Startled): Four ffffucking bloody aces!?!?

Del: I didn't know you could swear, Boycie.

Rodney: Del, this isn't our untidy flat, we're at a mansion in Berkshire. Stop gambling at this 19th-century dining table. This is not A Losing Streak, it is A Royal Flush.

Del: Is it? Ooooh, I understand naow. Y'see, I associated the title A Royal Flush with the phrase for the winning hand used in poker; and I thought that A Losing Streak alluded to your poor track record with women. But because of my embarrassing be'aviour, I spoil your chances with that posh tart seated over there, and it metaphorically goes down the shitter, which I thought would account for the 'Royal Flush', hah-heh-hah-hah. Wanna 'ear a joke? An Irishman and Bussssbyyyy go on a skiing 'oliday...

Lord 'enry: Trotter! In my study. Now!

Del is lead by the arm into a study

Lord 'enry: That's a da Vinci, you cunt!

Del: Is it? I thought it was the 8 of clubs.

Lady Victoria: Are you staying the night... or not?

Rodney: (Flips a double-headed coin) You call, Vicky.

Lady Victoria: Tails.

Rodney: Cosmic bollocks!

Del: I'm sorry, Rodney, for fuckin' it all up. I'll grip your injured hand tightly in apology when we get 'ome.

''Stick a pooooonyyyy in me pocket, I'll fetch the Trevor Francis tracksuits from NEHVAAAAN!''

Sothesby's Auctioneer: This is the actor called Nick Stringer - the gentleman who appeared in two episodes of an underrated comedy series; he played two different roles in each. He was discovered by two brothers in their garage, believing Mr Stringer was an egg-timer who was interested in a dodgy car. I feel I should say no more, otherwise we'll be fucking falling asleep. We'll start the bidding at one million pounds.

Del and Rodney faint and appear seated in an e-type Jaguar

Del: So what happened?

Rodney: The episode plot has been mixed up with Who Wants to be a Millionaire and Time on Our Hands. The millionaire part is easy to work out the confusion; I suppose Time on Our Hands could have referred to the time we waited for our visas in order to go to Kangaroo Paradise. Oh yeah, and Nick Stringer was sold to a car-selling empire in Australia.

Del: Naooh, I don't mean THAA-AAGHT, Rodders. I meant how much did Aussie Jumbo go for?

Rodney: Oh. 24 Milyun pounds. 1. 2.................. 3...

Del and Rodney: WAA-HAAH-HAAAOOH-HOOO!

Rodney: Del Boy, you know that fag packet that was in my hand...

Del: Yeah, what about it?

Rodney: ...I chucked it out the window.

Del: Who cares!? We are millionaiiiirressss! And we can rhyme because on our hands we've... got... time. But please pick it up. After all, it's in your nature to care for nature. Pollution, innit, eh.

Int. Trotters Flat

Del: I forgot to take the lion head cigar jar when we moved. What a fuckin' plonker Jubbly moron I am. (The phone rings, Del answers) Hello. Oh Jumbo Nick. Nah, Rodney's not coming over. He's got a criminal record. Me? No, of course fuckin' not. They refused me visa for two counts of market-trading without a license and one for drunk and disorderly. Yeah, thanks for the offer, though, much appreciated. Bonjour. (Replaces receiver) Who wants to be a millionaiiirrre? I am. Hah-heh-hah-haah-haaaah.

Rodney: Let's walk towards that sunset.

Albert: All this time you were ea'ing my grapes. HUEH-HURGH-HUEH-HURGH.

Credits

[Replies From View]

RODNEY and GRANDPA are even older and applying pins to DELBOY's eyes, which are bursting because of them, but he is not even wincing.

RODNEY and GRANDPA (singing and laughing):  PUT A PONY IN ME POCKET, TAKE A BRIEFCASE FROM THE VAN ETC!


The end.

[DangledTeeth]

HOMESICK

Theme: Stitch a Sooooonyyyy in me pointed. I'll fuck the soup fete from NERVAHN! 'Cause if you waaaank the Dresden with donut suspension... Dent Bungle, AMYAMAaaAaAAaAN etc.

Int. Tortters' Fatl

Del enters from the hall

Del Boy: Rodney, Rodney, you cocktwonk, that old cunt from the cahncil's comin' round to see Grandad No-Beard pulling off a scam forra bungalow.

Rodney: Del! I'd like you to meet the OLD CUNT FROM THE CAHNCIL!

An attractive women steps forward. Del appears enthralled

Del: Well hello, Ms Old Cunt from the Cahncil.

Ms Old Cunt from the Cahncil: Please, there's no need for polite verbosity.

Del: Oh, mai oui, mai oui.

Ms Old Cunt from the Cahncil: Call me...

Del: Alright, wos ya numbah?

Ms Old Cunt from the Cahncil (Smiles) I meant my name.

Del: OoOAaoOh. W'yer, I mean... I knew thaa-aat. Sorry, what's your name, then?

Stiltflange:

Spoiler alert

Stiltflange

[close]

Del: Oh, Stiltflange. That's a nice name what I ain't not 'eard before. It's my most favourite name is Stiltfanny.

Stiltflange: Flange.

Del: Yeah, after he sang that song I ain't surprised, darlin', I ain't surprised.

Stiltflange appears puzzled

Rodney: Del! Quick! It's Grandad.

Del: Alan Bennnnnett! Grandad's doing a sleep on the old market

Grandad is sprawled out on the carpet in front of the TV

Rodney: Get the brandy!

Del: This isn't the right moment for a knees-up, you prannytwat, Rodney!

Grandad: There's nothin' up with me, Rodney and Del Boy.

Del: What 'appened in Crossroads?

Grandad: The telly ain't on, and you don't like Crossroads.

Del: Ah yeah... stoo'id, ain't I.

Stiltflange: This is a heartbreaking sight. Have a free bungalow.

Del: Y-you mean we've got a bumdalow? (Stiltflange nods and Del and Grandad do a jig) MY OLD MAN, errrm... SAID FETCH THE SUITCASE FROM THE VAN! AND.. er... FLOG SILLY DILDOS ALL THE WAAAAAY.

Ext. Bungalow

Del: This place doesn't have a garage nor a driveway for my beloved van.

Grandad: YELLA CANARY.

Del: Naooh, naooh, Grandad. It's a Robin.

Rodney: And you'll need our garage which is storing a priceless watch for Raquel's dad to discover.

Del looks on with open-wide smile and a cigar held away from his mouth, he suddenly develops a confounded expression.

End Music: GUAAARRRD BLENNNND HOOPY STREEEEAK.

[Glebe]

EPISODE: THURSDAY THE 15TH PART II: JASON LIVES.

OPENING THEME.

INT.NELSON MANDELA'S STOMACH.DAY/NIGHT?

DEREK nets RODNAYS (mopin' at table) and shows 'im some maggots!

GRANDDAAAAD: Where we going, Del!

DELLY: We're going skiing, Granddaaaad! produces three pairs of skis.

GRAND: I know thaaaght, but where?

DERK: Tregowan, in Cornwall or Shropshire or summit. 'Tis Bosie's place, in the green, green grass! Fish a tenner a pop!

ROD: 'e couldn't poach an egg (looking at audience), ehahaheheuahhhgh!

GRANDDAD: Wendy 'ouse!

DEL: Tregowan? More like David Gower!

RODDY: We'll get Wet Wet Wet!

INT.LONDON.DAY.

ROD (singing in car): Gonnnn poachin'! Ah, y'know!

EXT.TREGOWER.NIGHT.

POLICEMAN: A man escaped from the psychiatric institute, the blackest eyes, the devil's eyes. Dr. Loomis shot him six times, but he got away.

DEL: What he do?

POLICEMAN: He killed the babysitter. Did you hear about the boy Jason? THEY WERE MAKING LOVE WHILE HE DROWNED!

DEL: Er... right. Night then!

GRANDAD: Salmon fishing. Salmon fishing.

EXT.BOYCIE'S CABIN.NIGHT.

Somebody is breathing heavily and watching the boys from the undergrowth.

INT.HOUSE SET.NIGHT.

ROD: I told yah, saw an 'and and I 'eard 'eavy breathing!

ELGIN: Aaah, that were just me sir, masturbating in the bushes! Master Boyce left the keys to the 'ouse and a bottle of scotch! Give Mrs. Cakeworthy a shout if you fancy a bit 'o pumping! Bye, thaaan!

ROD: Del, there's a chopper in the sideboard - ooh-er!

ELGIN: Mrs. Cakeworthy's dildo, heh.

ROD: Why don't you go up the furry knoll to Bedfordshire and check dis shit out!

DEL: Oi, Rodney, what is your game?

ROD: Suddenly 'appy Famblies became Monopoly... and I ain't never felt such sodding pain in owl moi loife!

Later, at table.

DEL: Granddad wants to buy Park Life for 50 toy money!

GRANDDAD: Smelly old waterworks!

ROD: Del... there is a face at the window.

DEL: Well what did it look like?

ROD: Greengrass from Heartbeat most probably.

DOOR: KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

ROD HULL (singing): There's somebody at the door! There's somebody at the door!

They let 'RUSS ABBOT' in.

RUSS ABBOT: It's just me, Russ Abbot, dressed as a policeman for this sketch. Here's my passport, driver's license, blood donor's card and Starbucks' loyalty card.

DEL: Still don't believe yah!

RUSS ABBOT: See you Jimmy!

GRANDDAD: It's 'im alright!

DEL: Just going out for a big dump, Rodney.

RUSS ABBOT: Watch out! There's a loony about!

EXT.'OUSE.NIGHT.

DEL whacks a fattie with the carsie door.

DEL: AC/DC's Hell's Bells! Granddad, Rodney, it's Greengrass from Heartbeat!

EXT.POLICE STATION.NIGHT.

ROD: ...so I whacked him one, did all the work meself, Del and Granddad not help. Wewull... per'aps a li'ul!

GRAND: S'modest, Rodsknees!

THE ACTOR MICHAEL STAINTON: There's a medal in this... wait a second... this isn't Greengrass from Heartbeat... it doesn't even look like 'im!

GRANDDAD: But Abbot's back at the Wendy 'ouse!

OLD BOOTFACE: You idiot! Abbot escaped from the Madhouse this afternoon, pinching a police uniform from the Juliet Bravo set as 'e goes!

ROD: What we gunna do?

LES DENNIS: Oh well I don't really knowwwww!

BELLA EMBERG: This is a job for... (spinning round) Blunderwoman!

INT.HOUSE.NIGHT.

DEREK: Fancy a scotch? Cleared up nicely!

EXT.POLICE STATION.NIGHT.

GRANDDAD (direct to camera): Del, 'twas Russ Abbot twot was the nutbag!

INT.HOUSE.NIGHT.

DEREK: ...you wotttt?

RUSS ABBOT: I love little fishies!

DEL: Assault 'n' vinegar, just cam foh the exercise (does quick arm stretches and puffs)!

A helichopter is heard.

DEL: It's alright! It's just Barratt's!

DAVID JASON: That was Sullivan's genius, references that made no sense to later audiences!

RUSS ABBOT: Let's play invisible snooker! Which cue?

A clever visual gag follows.

RUSS ABBOT: M'favourite! Oh, I don't like winning nice prizes! There's ignomy in defeat... anonymity in failure!

DEL: Tenner a frame?

RUSS ABBOT: Bend over the table.

ABBOT produces a real snooker cue. He readies Del's ringpiece with an invisible squeegee, though amusingly we hear a squeegee noise!

DEL: Oive a fanny feeling this ain't gunna be a good weekend after all!

RUSS ABBOT: I'm not Russ Abbot.

DEL: Yeah, copped that ages ago, mate.

THE END?

CLOSING THEME.

[DangledTeeth]

Strained Relations - Director's Cu(n)t

Vicar: We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Rodney Grasshopper Club Zürich Trotter...

Del (Behind a laugh): Mum was a fan!

Vicar: And Cassandra Tampa Bay Buccaneers Parry

Cumberbatch's Mum (To Trigger): I'm a fan of American footy!

Del: 'old aahp! 'Old aahp! This isn't supposed to be a flamin' wedding. It's Grandad's send-off.

Vicar: Oh fuck me for butter, mate. You're right. Sorry.

The lights dim down, even though there's plenty of day light. Everyone mumbles with uncertainty and intrigue

Slater steps forward and back again to reach the dimmer switch

All: Sla'er!

Trigger: ...Jeremy Roydle!

Slater: Fuckin' surprise! I had you going for a second. I've come for Grandad.

Del: Naoh, naoh, naaaooooh! You combed-back-hair prannyfanny, you're not an undertaker yet. And you do all that bizzo before the funeral. Stonnnne me.

Slater: I was only pulling your lower appendage, Derek. I'm here on a police matter - I want the name of the mush who chucked the vicar's hat in the grave hole.

Del: I ain't done it yet but I did. I...... did!

Slater: Very well, Del. Those terms seem acceptable. I've got a Panda hearse to drive. See you in a few episodes time for the diamond smuggle of the century.

Del: Oh I will, Slater. I will.

Rodney: I don't think it's fair to christen a kid SUNDRY DEPTHTITS.

Del: 'AVE A BLERDANAH! Let's fast-forward to the merriment of Grandad's wake.

Int. Trotters' Flat

Uncle Albert: I'm your Grandad's Brother, Uncle Albert (Shakes Rodney's hand)

Rodney: As Grandad's brother you're 'ardly gonna be my niece.

Laughter is emitted. Rodney thinks it's the audience, but he turns to see Del laughing with Mike, Boycie and Trigger

Uncle Albert: Dan't warry abaht Del, Rodney. Del's like HMS Belfast...

Rodney: Floating in the bloody Thames, laughing with a pub landlord, a second-hand car salesman and a roadsweeper with more cigs (sigs) than an autograph book?

Uncle Albert: Yah. There's this thing called a safety valve, it can be used as an analogy to compare Del's veiled grief. Del's releasing the prehshah! RUMOURS! CONCORDE! Prehsah, sahn. I'm sayin' naffink! Prehshah! JOOREN DUH WOH! Prehshah!

The guests have fucked off 'ome. Rodney sits at the dining room table

Del Boy: 'ere we go, Rodders. Bangers and fuckin' mash a la brilliaunce.

Rodney: This is lovely. Much better than Grandad's crema'ed pizzas. But for sentimental reasons I won't shovel all of this delectable late-night dinner down me 'at and coat out of respect for Grandad No-Beard.

Albert wanders through appearing hungover. He sits down at the dining table; a close-up of his chunky fingers juxtaposed with the plate of sausage an' mash is displayed

Albert: Oah, sozzies and pota'ah, not now, I've drank too much mardi gras piss. Del, do you mind if I stay the night?

Del: Yes. I tell you what you can do, shall I? (Shoves a few trinkets in a duffle bag and throws it in the hallway) You can naff off dahn to the Nag's Head and wait for me to feel sorry for ya and offer you a place here.

Albert: Alright, Del. I understand. Mind if I have a look in the local paper for some leftover vol-au-vents and cold tea?

Del: You can have look in the Nag's 'ead. G'on, sling yer 'ook. Alternatively, you can disregard the paper and get some vol-au-vents directly at the pub because that's where I got the grub from. As for cold tea, you're wanked on that one, me old Nelly.

Albert sadly shuffles in to the kitchen

Rodney (smirks): What? Are you winding him up?

Del (Frustrated, sarcastic): Yeah! I'm winding up! I'm winding him fuckin' up!

Rodney: I've seen a side to you I never knew existed. You were laughing and joking. It was Grandad's... 'ow could you get over it so quickly?

A poignant fast-ascending piano track starts accompanied by a shimmering of cymbals. The camera is focused on a diagonal shot of Del with a damp sheen over his eyes, Rodney is in the background

Del (Purrs): We were so happy... *Bass guitar licks and elegant piano tinkles* (Irreverent tone) VWEEEE ZWEERRR TAAAH BEEEHTOOOH LAAAAN VEEEE HAAAABLAAAAN... CABBEE TUR FROMBA AN MIVRERN BEeeEeEEeeEEH *GRUFF GUITAR BLASTS*  WE WERE LIKE KING PA-PER! WE WAS ON A COW LA-TERRRR! WE WERE WRITING TITS SO WELLLLL! WANKING. ALL. THE. TIME! COMPLETED A WAFT OF ARSE LIME! WE HAD TO MASTURBATE OUT SHELLS! (Lower, suave tone) A bombing little bangle! A shitty compost pantry! AND HE SHIT HIMMMMMSELLLLF, WOULD NOT LIST A BUUUUSSSSS. BUT WHEN HE LUSTED FOR HIS APE AND TIE, HE LOST HIS WAIST AND FENCE. NOW EVERYTHING'S RUINED, YEA-AAAH! NOW EVERYTHING'S RUINED, YEA-AAAH!

Del and Rodney dance around the living room with the entire interior as an ever-changing green screen effect depicting a drink carton being stamped on, a gardener trimming a hedge, footage of Gazza crying and Windsor Davies' face

Rodney: 'ang on a second, Del. Angel Dust comes out in seven years' time.

Del: Oh yeah, you're right, Rodders. Down to the Nag's Head for the finale.

Int. Nag's Head

Rodney sees Albert sip a glass of rum. He approaches Albert from behind and slaps his arse

Rodney: Fancy an Indian?

Albert: Yah, Rodney. Thanks.

Del: I don't know why you're thanking us for; you're paying with that 'undred quid I gave ya. Doesn't quite put you out of pocket, really.

The Trotters exit, Mike speaks to Albert at the bar

Mike: I'm glad I caught you. That deep-fat fax machine's photocopier doesn't work.

Albert: Doesn't on ours, Mike. HUEH-HERGH! HUEH-HERGH!

Sullivan: MOILS OND MOILS OF CARBET TILES. BUSHBUSHBUSHBUSH.

[Glebe]

EPISODE: GOLDIE LOOKING CHAIN GANG!

Openings theme!

INT.PECKHAM CONVENTION CENTRE.NIGHT.

DELS: 'ere, Dave, 'oos the mushmushmush at the bar?

TRIGZ: Oh, datz Arnie Schwarzenegger, Del, D-E-L. No, I tellz a lie, it's Colin Baker! It is Doctor Who convention night, after all! Shall I ask for 'is au'ograph, Dave?

DEL (shifting shoulders): Nah, leave it t'me, Trig!

DAVE: Del, Cassandra. Cassandra, Del.

CASSIE: Derek, Dave.

DEL: Cuh, bit of alright, wig! (slaps CASS' arse)

CASS: Don't push it, Del!

SALT-N-PEPA (singing): P-push it real good!

COLIN BAKER (singing): And I think to myself... what a wonderful world!

DEL (singing): We have all... the time... in the world!

INT.CASS CAR.NIGHT.

CASS: I'm off to Guernsey for duty free and an orgy! Will be stopping off at Benest's of Millbrook & Fineprice on Jersey... I say again... I will be stopping off at Benest's of Millbrook & Fineprice, for superlative value!

ROD: Er... alright. Cor, I fancy a bit of rumpo!

CASS: And I love- (DEL breaths cigar smoke directly into Cass' flipping face) *COUGH!* *CHOKE!*

EXT.PARKING LOT.NIGHT.

DEL: You ate her whole wig!

INT.TARDIS.NIGHT.

COLIN: Take a look in the briefcase.

A golden light shines out.

DEL: Is that what I think it is? It's beautiful.

ROD: He robbed B.A. Baracus!

COLIN: Mr. Davros brought 'em in by an unorthodox route, via the Daleks' home-planet of Skaro! Tax-free!

DEL: I'll take a few samples, Col!

BAKER gives him a few urine samples.

COL: I pity the fool who doesn't at least double his earnings by selling 'em round the pubs, clubs and the planet Telos!

INT.FLAT.DAY.

ALBERT and RODNAY are dossin' around. ENTER DEL. The rest of the gang - with the SIXTH DOCTOR in tow - follow.

DEL: They're pukka Unc, the urine samples!

BOYCIE: We're going to hold our own conference right here! Don't try and escape through the kitchen wall Arnie, or Colin.

ARN-I MEAN, COLIN: That's alright, Mr. Boycie, I'll leave the suitcase here so you can lock me in the kitchen and scarper!

DEL: Go on, sling yer 'ook! Flasks of tea and vol-au-vents!

MIKE: He's been straight with us, don't think 'es a bum-boy!

DEL: COLLY, ENTER STAGE RIGHT!

COLIN: Thank goodness, couldn't stand any more cold tea, hee-urgh, hee-urgh!

DEL: We're thirty-odd quid short!

ROD: NOT any more!

DEL: Boycie, you can have my jewellery, Trig's car... and EVERYTHING IN THE FLAT!

BOYCIE: Alright Del, seeing as we are friends I will accept all that as a bid of thirty-odd quid!

COLIN: Oh, look at that! Reminds me of childhood adventures in cuntie Donnie-Gaul!

DEL: Old paddy ten-pence with a squiggly heron or something!

DEL: We'll celebrate with a drink! Colin?

COLIN: Yeah, I'll have a Peckham Spring Water, something like that! Just gotta phone my wife... (to wife) WHAT?! He's here?!

TRIG: Everything alright, Baker?

COLIN: That was my wife, Bonnie Langford... Davros has sent a sea devil to collect!

DEL: And they can be nasty, can't they?

COLIN: Very nasty...

BOYCIE: I don't care if they disembowel Baker and paint the town red wiv 'im!

DER: Use y'loaf! We get an extra little earner on the icing, Colin gets a bunce on thee 'ip!

INT.RESTAURANT.AFTERNOON.

DEREK: Don't sit beside me, Boyce! People might think we're a bit 'wooftie' or sammink! (flops hand)

COLIN: Haha! Look at the gays, sitting together! Waiter, could you call the Tardis? I feel sick!

BOYCIE: Ex-cuuuuse meeeeee, I am the Brigadier! Let the wolf see the dog!

INT.RELIANT ROBIN.AFTERNOON.

ALBERT: Ju get the feeling this is turning into a Doctor Who mash-up?

INT.RESTAURANT (AGAIN).AFTERNOON.

LEELA: He's not the Brigadier, played by Nicholas Courtney! He's trying to rob that Time Lord, sixth incarnation!

DEL jumps into a nearby empty dalek.

DELEK: EX-TER-MIN-ATE! EX-TER-MIN-ATE! (he chases BOY onto the street)

DEL: A Close Shave! After 'im, Roodnaaaaay!

ROD drives off without 'em!

INT.NELSON.DAY.

DEL (on phone): Doctor (not Who) I will BUY YOU A DRINK IF YOU GIVE OUT PERSONAL DETAILS. BUY YOU A DRINK.

MIKE: We're up shit cheek without a chokey!

UNCLE: The phone, the phone! Nah, nah, that phone 'as a modern 'redial' batton... call and you'll get a weak, off-the-wall line!

DEL (on phone): Hallo? Sorry to trouble you in your time of... what? Okay, superlative.

UNC: Wot?

DEL: That wasn't Bonnie Langford... it was Benest's of Millbrook & Fineprice, for the finest produce! I say again... Benest's of Millbrook & Fineprice, St. Clement's Coast Road, Jersey!

ROD: Sorry Del, I couldn't resist!

BOY-CEE: Well that's it then, innit? I am off to Benest's... but first, I'm gunna buy a Del-Boy collectable figure and stick pins in it!

MIKE: I'm gonna get me car declamped!

ROD: I'll drop you off, ON OUR WAY TO THE RIVAH!

DEL: Cam on, Mike, Trig? Uncle, the old Dunkirk spirit?

UNC: Dan look at me, san!

INT.THE CASSMOBILE.THAT LONDON.

CASS: No Whips and chains Roderney, but I did do a wiccan sacrifice! Also picked up some quality goods at Benest's of Millbrook & Fineprice, I say again... Benest's of Millbrook and Fineprice, for superlative value!

ROD spies COLIN being stretchered.

CASS: What's the matter, Rodney? You look like you've seen 'The Ghosts of Pompeii'!

INT.NAGGY.NIGHT.

DEL: Ambulances have been spotted all over Landan... 'es got 'andreds in on the scam!

MIKE: The whole of London's ambulance fleet is at his mercy, it seems! Unless we're very much mistaken.

BOYICE: I spotted TWO ambulances today, in different busy London 'igh streets!

TRIG: 'es like Spring-'eeled Jack, that one! Big eyes. Glowing teef.

DEL: Keep heap big ear to um ground. That don't mean get dahn and listen Trig, you heap big um twat!

ROD: Denz, this is Cass. Oh and get some deodorant, mate!

After DENZIL leaves.

ROD: Sorry to leave you wiv a stranger!

CASS: No, I quiet like brief encounters, as I found out when Denz took me into the toilets - only joshin', for goodness' sakes, The Rodney!

DEL: Where is 'e now?

CASS: Literally driving over the sea-waves to Germany!

DEL (shouting out Nag doors): DEN-ZIL! ICH BIN EIN AUSLANDER!

INT.ANOTHER RESTAURANT.DAY.

COLIN: Ooh, me heart!

INT.COLIN'S AMBULANCE.DAY

COLIN SON #1: I'm not taking the call this time... 'tenk you veddie much'!

COLIN SON #2: You're his #1 son? Mullet.

Another ambulance arrives and whisks COLIN away. The SONS get out and meet DENZIL and his stereotypical fat, violent brothers.

DENZ: Wotcher, fellers! Into the ambulance, we're going to get medieval on your asses!

INT.OTHER AMBULANCE.DAY.

COLIN: Wonnnnnnderful. I managed to get away with yet another ridiculous scam in this area of London. I think I'll open my eyes now.

It's DEL, AL, BOYCE & MIKE. In the driver's cab, DAVE & TRIG look at each other. Laughing. All wear Action-Man jumpers.

DEL: Alright, Colin? Or should I say actor PHILIP MCGOUGH?

POIROT: There wiz wan fah-tel fleh in iz plen!

NOT-BAKER: Okay, I'm not Colin Baker - I don't even look like him, for goodness' sakes! Although interestingly I did see on Wiki that I played the character of Sergeant Calder in 1984 serial 'Resurrection of the Daleks'!

ZYGON: You don't need those pliers, Del. 'e 'as the combo f'the brief, san.

DEL: 'oo said anything about the briefcase? I'm gonna do sam nasty damage!

NOT-BAKER: Ulp!

DEL: Careful, now! You might give y'self a heart-attack and regenerate into the next Doctor!

NOT-BAKER: Baker refused to do the regeneration sequence, which meant Sylvester McCoy had to do it in a wig, apparently. Anyway, I'm not Baker!

DELS: In any case, we're still going to pliers off your balls, stick 'em in y'gob, chop off y'bonce and post it to y'sons!

THE END!

The ending theme.

[Glebe]

BBC ANNOUNCER: It's 1981 (sigh), here's a new half-hour light entertainment TV programme: OFAH Fools & Horses!

EPISODE NUMBER THE FIRST: BIG BROTHER'S LITTLE BROTHER!

Theme tune (© Ronaldo Hazelweed).

INT.NAG'S HEAD.DAY.

DEL: Hi-ho, Trigger, awaaaaaaay!!

TRIG: Dave.

DEL: 'ere, Rodney, you'll never guess... I just bought sam 'ooky briefcases, with the combinations locked inside! How funny is that? I foresee many more wacky capers ahead over the years, involving chandeliers, 'ang gliders an' Batman outfits, etc.!

HOT ROD: Del, you sank all our manny in them fucked briefcases... we're screwed!

PRE-MIKE LANDLORD: Del, Monkey Harris is on the telephone for you.

DEL: Fanx, whomsoever you be... (on phone) hello? Sorry, Monkey... Trotters Independent Traders 'as CEASED TO BE. (sadly) Yeah, see you around, mate.

ROD: Del, Trig just told me that Granddad has passed away prematurely! Oh, and due to a convergence in the time stream, we will NEVER MEET RAQUEL AND CASSANDRA, whoever they are. Plus apparently Uncle Albert - whoever he is - drowned at sea.

DEL: Come on Rodney, let's go 'ome. And commit suicide.

They walk off into a nuclear sunset.

ELECTRONIC CHESS: GAME-OVER.

[DangledTeeth]

Chain Gang

Int. Tortres' Talf

Boycie: I'd like to see the briefcase in between the door frame, if you don't marnd, Arnoiiie?

Arnie: Oh, no trouble there, Mr Boyce. I like to see it there, too.

Del: Let's buy these chains.

Boycie, Trigger, Mike, Rodney and Albert: Yes. This'll be a lucrative investment. Why we're all agreeing and saying the same thing in unison, I do not know.

Del (Calling): Arnie, you can stop fuckin' arahnd with those toma'oes and eggs.

Arnie: These, gentleman, are yours!

The Nag's Head bunch salivate over an open briefcase of gold chains (not David Bowie LPs, pool games or wozzanem ineddapos, whatever that is)

Arnie: Just going to make a quick call. (On phone) Hello Pam, love. Just here with this rabble of cunts.

Del: Ha-heh-her, 'rabble of cunts', I blardee lav it.

Arnie: (Concerned, stands up) No, Pam! Mr Stavros cannot have them. I have just this minute sold them to Del and his consortium. I wou- (The phone starts ringing and causes him to flinch) Hello? (Passes phone to Rodney) It's for you.

Rodney speaks to Cassandra in the kitchen

Del: Hang abaht! He must be blaaafffin' on da blowah if it's ringing.

Mike: You're some conning fucker, ain't you?

Arnie: Yes. I'm sorry. Don't put me in an ambulance for me to see you wear ribbed thermal jumpers and threaten me with bolt-cutters.
Keep the chains as means of apology.

Del: Fair dos, son. (Menancingly steps in his path) but the stairs and the lift are out of order. (Smiles and nods to indicate the balcony entrance, Arnie sighs and tentatively walks to it).

Arnie: AHN DAH FEENK TUH MASELF... WWWWURGHLA WWWWERNDERFUL WOOOORRRLLLLD!

Trigger: Is this place fitted with a fire distinguisher?

Sullivan's Song: SAY MANFRED'S FEET! HUMID SLEEEEEP! MAN. FRED'S. FEET! HUMID SLEEEEEP! HUMID SLEEEEEP!

Friday the 14th

Int. Boycie Cottage

Grandad: Fahnd Monopoly!

Rodney chillingly presents an axe which he found in a small cupboard

Del: Rodney, you can't use that as a playing piece; you'd wipe aht the community chest and chance card piles, you blimeycunt.

Rodney: Del! There is a man at da windaow!

Del swishes the curtains and appears to dance

Del: No.

Door: Domp-boh-bomp! Hello. It's the chief of security. I'm not a door, I'm simply behind it. Can I come in?

Del: COULD BE ANYBODY! (Points with conviction at lips, swings the door open numerous times before letting the chief in)

Chief: Good evening. I'm the Chief of Security at the institute. Here's my identification, from my driver's license to doner kebab card

Del: (Scrutinises driver's license) This ain't you in the photo.

Chief: I know. I'm mental, you see. I'm the escaped psychopath. DO YOU LIKE FISH?

Barratts Police Copter: VFUVFUVFUVFUVFUVFUVFUVFUVF!

Trigger: Is this place fitted with a fire distinguisher?

Sullivan's Song: DAYVIT BOHWEY EL POYZ!

Miami Twice - Oh to Be in England

Outdoor restaurant

Del: And I bent dahn to pick up the spud from the floor - AND WALLOP! Fuckin' sniper bullet narrahly missed me April! Jubbly fuck!
Ya don't need it, Rico. Ya just don't need it.

Rico: No... you certainly don't need it.

Rodney: Del, these men look Italian, live in a plush 'ouse and a bullet almost 'its you - they're mafioso!

Del: You know what this is, don't ya? It's Marlon from Emmerdale time. I tell ya what we're gonna do, we're gonna.. we're g- WE'RE
GONNA RUN FOR IT!

Guitar: DNG-A-BAOW-NHNGA-NAH-NIH-NYAAH-NAOW!

Trigger: Is this place fitted with a fire distinguisher?

Del, Rodney and Rico: Fuckin' shut up, Trigger! It wasn't funny the first time, it certainly ain't now.

Not Sullivan's Song: HAAHT TAOWN, SUMMER IN THE CITY...

[Glebe]

EPISODE: PIECES OF EIGHT, PIECES OF EIGHT! BRRR, TWEE, PRETTY POLLY, PRETTY POLLY!

Opening tweet.

EXT.NAG'S.DAY.

DEL: 'ere, there's that Brendan O' Shaughnessy's van! There'll be rivers of blood!

ERIC CLAPTON: Indeed, Enoch Powell was right!

INT.NAG'S.DAY.

DEL: Haha! Look! A p**i! 'ere, Boycie, I bet who ever walks through that door orders a pint of Beamish and a double whiskey chaser!

BOYCIE: Oh no, Del. No no no. That already happened in the cards one!

A tall, fat oaf with brown, curly hair and a big, thick beard lumbers in. He is also smelly.

BRENDAN O' SHAUGHNESSEY: I'm feelin' horny... completely out of the blue, and 'just for a change', I think I'll have one of dem 80's Buck's Fizz pink Babycham spritzers on deh rocks!

BOYCE: Phew!

BRENDAN: T'paraphrase Brendan Behan, a pint of Babycham is yer only man! Here, Del, I'm doin' Denzil's flat, so I am!

DEL: You?! You couldn't do a flat if... erm... something funny!

BRENDAN: I used ta work for O' Reilly's Builders in Torquay in the 70's!

DEL: Yeah, well, leave it to me yah mick bastard!

EXT.PECKHAM RYE BLOCK.DAY.

JUDGE DREDD (on radio): Dredd here, got two perp plonkers entering Denzil Towers. Should I take action?

BASE: Nah, that's just Del and Rodney! Stand down, Dredd!

DREDD: Drokk!

INT.DENZIL & CORRINE'S FLAT.DAY.

DENZIL: Rodney, Del, gimme five!

DEL: I know it's your debut appearance, 'Early Denzil', but for fuck's sake what's with the afro and fuzzy beard?

ROD: I am not white. I am not white.

DEL: We're doing your flat!

DENZ: No Del, Irish idiot doin' it.

DEL: 'ave you 'ear about that other flat he did? Blew 'ap!

DENZ (spits out beer): ...but what about my Corrine? Bloody 'ell, she'll go loopy!

DEL: Dan worry about my Corrine! Coq au vin, as the French say!

CORRINE: DENZIL! WHAT ARE THESE PLONKERS DOING IN OUR FLAT!

DENZ: Sorry love, they're doing it up!

MY CORRINE: Remember they did the wedding? It was cod and chips twice please, Mr. Chips!

ROD: Am I white? Am I white?

CORONA: Let 'em do it, but THEY MESS UP I'LL CUT YOUR FACKING JACOBS OFF!

CORRINE goes into the KITCHEN, slamming the door. She can be heard violently smashing things up.

DEL: She's a diamond, in' she? By the way Denz, cos of the fumes, the fumes, move Buzby aht of 'ere, we need 'im to send us manny dahn duh line!

INT.DENZFLAT.THE NEXT MORN.

GRANDAD: Tea and jaffas! It's in the Magna Carta, or samfink!

DEL (on phone): Hello, Canada? See you in the morning! I've just been bounced off - let me mispronounce this right - a 'statillite'! Oi, Rodney, where's moi Darjeeling?

ROD: Oh no!

They all enter the KITCHEN, where a haze of BBC SFX gas fills the room.

DEL: Cough! Choke!

ROD: There's a hole in my kettle, dear Liza, dear Liza!

GRANDDAD: Del, is this canary dead?

DEL: It's DECEASED! It's PUSHIN' UP THE DAI-SIES! It's JOINED THE CHOIR INVISIBLE! This... is an EX-BUZBY!

ROD: Wot baht our Corrine?

DEL: You've sunk every ship you was on Rodney, now you're knackered a kettle! Turkish kitchen! Kentucky Fried Chicken! Sautee potatoes!

GRANDDAD: Giz the cash, off for a yella canary and jaffas. I MAY BE SOME TIME.

INT.L. LOMBARDI PETS.DAY.

GRANDDAD: Need a canary, Louis!

LOUIS: Aaaaaye, Granddad!

GRANDDAD: I'm not you're Granddad!

LOUIS: Yes-a you are, Freddy Robdall wasn't Joannie's only a-lover! Anyway, I'll a-never part with my canary, my own a-flesh and blood!

GRANDDAD: Forty quid, the lot! You sure you ain't Gordon Kaye?

MR. LOMBARDI: Atsa fine-a, bozz!

EXT.PECKHAM RYE HIGH STREET.DAY.

MY SHARONA: Hello, Granddad! And before you ask, yes, I am a half-sister to Del and Rod! By the way, why have you got a wrapped up bird cage with you?

INT.DENZHOUSE.DAY.

ROD: That bird looks different! It's got distinguishing features, such as a bent beak and boss eyes!

DEL: Gaw on, 'ere she camz! Alright, Corrine? We're like that Magnus Mackersonn, twelve points and NO passes!

CORIN: Nice work, boys! Fancy a PG Tips? I've trained some monkeys to make it - they could have done the wallpapering but it's unethical or summit!

DEL: NOOOOOOOOO!!

THE CORRS: Arrrgggh, me Buzby! He was dead this very morn!

INT.NAG'S.DAY.

BRENZ: I thawd I thaw a puddy cat! I diiiiiid, I did see a puddy cat. So I did.

DEL: Yeah, alright mate.

BRENDA: Suckerin' succathash!

DEL: Leave it out, brov.

BRENNAN: That's all folks! So it is.

DEL: Yeah, that's enough mate.

A man with a post-70's mop and garish shirt approaches.

MIKE: Alright mate, new landlord Mike Fisher here, also makin' my debut! That tick Irish potato-eater is doing me pub for a grand! Promised not to blow it up or nuffink!

DEL: Here, charge an extra bunce, split 'em, icing on the bunce and fucking paddy does all the 'ard work!

The proud pair of Englishmen laugh coldly, cynically and clinically, good, strong, British blood flowing through their veins, through and through.

INT.THE HIGH COURT.THE NEXT DAY.

JUDGE: Brendan Patrick Flahertie O' Shoog-nazz-cee, you are hereby charged with HIGH TREASON and thereby sentenced to be hanged at the Tower of London, you big, thick, Irish CUNT.

BRENDAN: I was in Blake's 7, apparently! And I'm not even Irish!

BRENDAN is NEVER HEARD FROM AGAIN.

THE END.

Closing time!

This deleted still shows Brendan torturing a Loyalist.

[Glebe]

EPISODE: WANTED - DEAD OR ALIVE!

Opening theme.

INT.NAG.NIGHT.

THAT MICKEY PEARCE: 'ere, Rodney, which wan of the twins, y'fancy? Rock steady.

ROD: The wan on the left!

THAT MICKIE PIERCE: Haha, they're boaf dah same! Coo-ee! Love you! Two Tone.

ROD: 'ere, Del, which twin?

DEL: I don't see naffink, that's just the audience!

MICK PEARS: Use your imagination, Del! Skank.

EXT.PECKHAM ROAD.NIGHT.

BLOSSOM: Hello lav, I'm drank!

ROD: Here, let me help you (cor, may as well try and cop and feel!).

BLOSSOM: 'elp! 'elp! POLICE! POLICE!

RODNEY does a runner.

INT.MANDELAFLAT.MORN.

DEL: Yawn... good night last night, Rodney? The police was sniffin' round foh trable...

ROD: It wasn't as uneventful as it seemed! Tried to help a drunk 'un...

DEL: YOU WOT? Wot did she look like?

ROD: Had a neck chain or whatever it's called - bearing the unusual nickname 'Blossom'!

DEL: This is a very serious matter, Rodney. (puts foot on chair) Now, let's look at the facts...

ROD: You what?!

DEL: A poor, drunk lady is walking home, mindin' 'er own business. 'Long camz Rodney, plain as y'like, and starts fondlin' 'er!

ROD: I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS!

GRANDDAD: You woz always a bad 'un, Rodney!

DEL pulls the curtains and shines a lamp on RODDERS.

DEL: Nah COME ON! OWN APP!

GRANDAD: Come on, Rodney. It's for the best, son.

DEL suddenly grabs ROD by the lapels and shoves him up against the wall.

DEL: NOW YOU LISTEN HERE YOU SCUM! WHAT DID YOU DO TO THAT POOR WOMAN?!

GRANDAD: Del... calm down... go and get a coffee. Cigarette, Rodney? I can see you're frightened. This can all be over whenever you want. Just admit it, sunshine. You've already been dan for cannabis possession. Cam on. As you can see, my partner's not as... diplomatic as I am.

DEL sweeps back into the room dressed in lawyer's robes and wig.

DEL: Lot no.23, thee case of thee Peck'am Pounsah!

ROD (running out the room): I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY MORE!

GRANDDAD (shaking head): He'll go dahn f'this!

DEL (laughing): Nah, nah, Granddad! It's a joke! That Blossom's mental!

GRANDDAD: Haha! Nice one, Del... you never know when to take a joke to far, that's your problem!

INT.NAGGO.EVE.

DEL, BOCCE & TRUG are playing at cards.

TRAG: Four aces... I ain't never seen it before.

MIKE: Phone for you, Del!

DEL: Hello? Alright, Granddad? Rodney? Have you looked ander the bed, haha! Sigh, oh alright then I'll have a look rand... I promise.

BOYCIE: Cam on, Del!

DEL: Right with you, Boycie! Another round, please Mike! Now... double or quits?

INT.FLAT.EARLY DOORS.

GRANDDAD: Any sign, Del?

DEL: Nah, Grandaaaaaad! I been all over. Oh Granddad, you wouldn't believe Landan at night! I been offered everyfing from the ol' psychedelic champignons to a tenner for me traveller's cheques!

GRANDAD: So no Blodders, then?

DEL: EH?! Nah, nah, just went to Soho to buy some sex toys off Dirty Barry!

GRANDDAD: Fancy a horrible burnt breakfast, son?

DEL: Nah... I'll just have a cup of tea and go to bed. I'm sure it'll be on the news if Rodplonks turns app!

GRANDDAD: Sleep well, san - as will I!

DEL (nastily): Oh I will Granddad... I will!

INT.FLAT.ONE WEEK LATER.

GRANDDAD: I wonder what became of your half-brother?

DEL: Ah, who gives a fu... *sniff* *sniff* what iz dat fanny smeull?!

GRANDDAD: Maybe it's Plonker's corpse, rotting under the bed!

DEL: Nah, it's more kinda exotic and planty!

GRANDDAD: Oh, that! It's super strong skunk, been camming from the air vents!

DEL: Get some chicken drammers and a bottle of whiskey, Granddad... (with sly, knowing smile!) I think I know where Rodney's been rotting!

INT.MANDELA'S ATTIC.NIGHT.

ROD: Coo-ee, Del! Over 'ere!

DEL: There you are! Brought you some dramsticks, you mast be 'ank Marvin, mate! And instead of good, clean water, have some whiskey! That'll replenish y'fluids nicely!

ROD: Laverly... I forgot the can opener!

DEL: Why didn't you just pop dan for it?

ROD: I did, but Granddad told me to fuck off!

DEL: They're all high down there. Granddad's saying "hey, man, turn on, tune in, drop out"... Mrs. Goggins is floating up to the ceiling... everywanz organising a free love 'happening'!

ROD: Spliff-tastic!

DEL: Wot you doin' rannin' away from 'ome at your age?

ROD: I'd just been doin' a lot of thinking, Del. You should have seen Tobacca Road in the old days... we put up a sign, 'You can break out 'earts, Thatcher... (suddenly downcast) but you can never take our trees!' Nah look want they done to it!

DEL: LOOK AT ME, MA, TOPPA THE WORLD, MA!

ROD: 'ere, Del, the carry 'ouse has burnt down... do you think that's why the police were all over? Maybe I was just being paranoid all along!

DEL: Er, look, Rodney, I (thinks about owning up, then decides to prolong the cruel prank)... I was thinking, I'll organise a steak dinner for your last meal... and a nice, new suit!

ROD: And a nice pair of shiny, new shoes!

DEL: Now don't cum it, Rodney!

ROD: I pissed in the water.

DEL: Cunt. Anyway, you take care, Rodney. I'll give you an hour, then I'm phoning the police.

ROD: I'll see you later... sport!

INT.FLAT.NEXT MORN.

DEL: *snuffle* *snuffle* What iz thaught different fanny smeull?

GRANDDAD: Oh that? It's just Rodney... he's floating dead up in the septic tank. Haven't fished him out yet. Slit iz wrists, 'e did. Left a note; 'Dear Del, I just can't take it anymore, the thought of doing a long stretch in prison falsely accused of serious sexual assault on a vunerable, mentally ill woman is just too much to bear. THE END.'

DEL: Oh balls.

THE END.

Closing theme.

[DangledTeeth]

Tea for Gerry Cowper and Two Cushty Cunts

Int. Pub Nag's Pub Pub Head. Evening

Trig: You remember my niece Lisa?

Del: Oh yeaaaah, li'ul scruffy girl with spag stains around 'er speech cave.

Trig: Yeah, that's 'er. I saw one-a them foive pahnd notes thee avva dayyyyeeh.

Del: Did ya, Trig? What the flamin' Bennett that 'as to do with your niece I dan't knaow.

Trig: There she is over at the bar.

Lisa (Calling): Hello Del.

Del (Disinterested, polite mutter): Yeah, alrigh', ya fuckin' cunt (Led and Denroy do a double-take) Well clonk me with a wheelbarra and call me lucid. That scruffy li'ul caow has turned into a rarht sexy scrahff.

Rodney: Yeah, cosmic! You wait until she gets to EastEnders, mate. She'll look like she showered in chip fat.

Trigger: Who are you talking about?

Rodney: Heh-her-hoh, TTTRRIGGUR'S NOEEYCE! (Turns to spot Trigger, insouciantly turns back around)

Lisa approaches the Trotters

Lisa: Oh. It's been years since I last saw you.

Del: Been that long, has it.

Lisa: I used to fancy you.

Rodney: It's good you don't now because he's much older, and is still a small git.

Del: Thank youuu, Rodneyyyy. I mean, you grew up to be such an elonga'ed taaart you 'ave trouble with the doors.

Rodney: I wouldn't be so cer'ain, Del. I quite like Jim Morrison.

Rodney and Lisa laugh

Del (Shit Michael Caine Impression): I thawt I tald jaow ta blardee piss off, Rodnay.

The pub briefly goes silent

Del: Why don't you pop by tomorrow for tea?

Rod: Wait, 'old on, Del! I was about to invite Lisa round for tea.

Lisa: Why don't we all have tea?

Del: Brillyunt idea, Lisa. We'll 'ave a spitroast.

Lisa: Titter! Giggle! I've never been banged by two brothers at the same time before.

Del has his mouth on the rim of a cocktail glass; he has a shocked wide-eye expression. A consistent blast of drink shoots up in the air at a 60° angle.

Del: I was talkin' about an upmarket chicken. Gaw, you audacious caow! Hah-hah-hah-hah! 'AVE A FUCKIN' BLANANAH!

Int. Trotters' Flat

Rodney lounges under a sunbed, Albert relaxes on a dining table chair

Albert: Me and yer Grandad 'ad a fight over a woman. I bought her an Emperah burger, but yer Grandad got her a cheeeeeseburgah - an' it all kicked off like football. I'm frigh'ened 'istory is gonna repeat itself. I don't want you and Del to become bih-er towards each avva 'cause of some gangbang chicken! Rodney?

Rodney: FUCKIN' SNORE!

Albert: Bloody kids! (Exits to kitchen)

Del: (Fixed stare at Rodney) Oah, so you want to look nice for the young lady, eh? (Pulls out a marker pen) I'll see to it you get to the ball, Cinderodders.

Later in the evening. Rodney enters through the kitchen, he has had glasses drawn on his face. Lisa smirks at Rodney's two-dimensional eyewear

Lisa: I love a man in uniform. Did you see Officer And a Gentleman? Oh Richard Gere, I went all goose pimply. Richard Gere.

Del (Feigns interest): Oh, yeaaah, he's good. 'eeee's got a narce bum.

Rodney: Yeaaaah, cosdick.

Del: Speaking of smartly dressed blokes, do you know what Rodney's favourite Bond James Bond film is?

Lisa: What?

Del: For Your Four Eyes Only.

Del and Lisa laugh uproariously. Rodney doesn't understand, nor does he become suspicious

Rodney: I'll make us some drinks.

Del: Be careful when you grab things in that cupboard, Rodney,.

Rodney (OOV, Calling): Why's that, Del?

Del: There's a pair of glasses resting on a mug.

Del and Lisa burst into laughter

Lisa: I better get going after this drink.

Del: I'll give ya a lift to wherever the fuck it is you're staying. I'll get meself ready (Exits)

Rodney comes back from kitchen

Rodney: So you're goin' back home tomorrow?

Lisa: Yes. I'll have to get the train. I'll be meeting my mates at the assault course.

Rodney: Ah, no, you don't have to. Me and Del'll give you lift. We'll have a day out in the country. Do you know what Del's ambition is? To do a fucking arduous assault course.

Lisa: I'm sure that can be arranged.

Rodney: Don't tell 'im about it. It's his 286th birthday soon - it'll be our surprise.

Ext. Countryside Asssault Course

Del: What?! You want me to traverse that unfathomably bloody difficult cuntluggage?

Lisa: Yes. I've gone to all this trouble for you; it's to thank you for the lovely meal. Oh you shoulda seen it, Andy. We had roasted chicken and slices of lemon.

Andy: Ready when you are, Del.

Del: Er, give us a sec, Andy. Gotta talk to Rodney about thermal pants. (Lisa and Andy keep their distance)

Rodney: Dear, dear, what a gherkin. It's a pity you said you were a Koopa Troopa.

Del: Wish I kept me bladdee mahf shut (Has a puzzled expression, shakes his head). What does she wanna go an' stick her hooter in for, eh?

Rodney: Favour. Lisa.

Del: Now listen, Rodney. I know I didn't turn the dial up on the sunbed and drew... (Notices the marker pen glasses are still there)

Rodney: Drew?

Del: I mean I've got to draw the line - this rivalry between us over Gerry Cowpat is silly, bruv. Like Uncle Albert said: we shouldn't be fighting over a bird.

Rodney: Yeah, you're right (they hug and pat each other in solidarity)

Del: Come on, Rodders, let's think of sammink to get me out of this.

Rodney: Car phone! No one will suss it. You go over there and pretend to be dead keen, right, and I announce a call.

Del: Yessss, good boy, good boy. Ahem! (Calling) Er, AN-DYYYYY. 'urry fahckin' ahp. I'm getting a bit impatient to be off on the salt corpse. (To Rodney) He does't know! (Del does an assertive walk over to the start line)

Del is wearing army boots and still has his camel coat on

Del: Is that our car phone I can here ringing, Rodney?

Rodney: Yes. (Puts a red stilletto against his ear) Hello. Oh, Albert... Yep... Del's about to do an army-style course. Where's the rum? I left it in the kitchen. No trouble, Unc. Bye. (Does a vengeful smirk at Del) Make sure you have enough stamina for climbing, Del. You might come across a pair of frames. (Rubs the glasses off his face with a tissue)

Del (stern whisper): I'll get you for this, Rodney. You see if I don't.

Andy: Are you off, Del?

Del: Yeah... I'm off... oh gawd. Waaargh! (Del swings across on a rope)

Rodney: (Concerned) Aoh!

Del wades through a two foot-high stretch of mud

Lisa: He's climbing over the barrier.

Rodney: What's over there?

Andy: A car-racing track.

Int. Trotters' Flat

Albert: He's bin gorn 12 ahrs.

Rodney: Yeah, I know. I've got a GCE in Greenwich Mean Time.

Trigger enters

Rodney: Have they found him, Trig?

Trigger: Yeah Dave. We've found him. He was sprawled out near a chicane. Martin Brundle tried to call his next of kin, no answer. So
they rang the pub, got a Greenline down there.

Albert: We'll see you for the fare.

Trigger: No, it's alright. I don't care, I'm too idiotic to care about money. (To Rodney) Del was in a right state. His coat was covered in mud, he accidentally flicked a chunk of it over Boycie.

Rodney: Is he okay?

Trigger: Yeah. Boycie didn't mind, he wiped it off with a beer mat.

Rodney: No, not Boycie. I mean Del - how's Del?

Trigger You'd better Ask Del yerself, Rodney, er, Dave.

Del comes in on crutches and is wearing two plaster casts on his legs

Del: I might have to be waited on hand a foot for a few months until my legs are in working order, Rodney.

Rodney: Oh, pull the other one. You might fool these lot, Del, but not me.

Del: I can't believe this vicious little cunt. My legs are fucked for part of the year, and he's havin' a blardee pop at me!

Albert (To Rodney): You're aht of ordah, sahn.

Rodney: Hospitals don't send injured people home by bus. But most importantly of all, since when have plaster casts been duvets partially wrapped in duct tape? What is it you want, me and Albert to serve you three meals a day for a few? Or a get-well blowjob from Lisa?

Del drops the crutches and grabs Rodney

Del: Now you listen to me, you fuckin' silly plonkerknob. I'm on a long road to recovery and... (Realises he's forgotten the act) I do admit my bones are healing much quickly.

Albert: You shouldn't tell them sor'a lies, Del. Ahm sayin' naffink. I'm just saying: concorde. (bobs his head forward on each syllable) RU-MOURS!

Trigger: Top deck!

Del: I'm sorry. I wan'ed to get me own back on (indicates Rodney) that dickstick. I went arse over BOLLOCKS into some earth-coffee; I went on the web before most people 'ave on their Microsocks compu'ers. I stumbled on to a fuckin' race track, with Murray Walker shouting: THERE GOES ALAIN PROST PAST THAT TRADESMAAAN, THAT TRADESMAAAAN! It was only by the grace of God I had fahnd some protection by grabbing someone's helmet.

Rodney: Yeah, I always thought you were a noofter.

Trigger: Which reminds me, for some inexplicable reason. Lisa's getting married to some bloke who looks like Timothy Dalton.

Mike: We'll open up the pub to celebrate this engagement. You'll be there Albert? (Albert nods) I suppose we'll be seeing you two down there (Exits after leaving an empty wheelchair)

Albert: Wha'a cappla werllies. HUEH-HERGH-HUEH-HERGH!

Del and Rodney are flabbergasted

Sulliney: DEEP-FREEZE BUSHBUSHBUSHBUSH!

[Glebe]

EPISODE: THE JOLLY BRENT'S OUTING!

Themebags.

INT.ALAN PARRY PRINTING.DAY.

ROD: Oh fuck! I've wiped out important info and the company will go bankrupt!

ALAN: 'ello, Rodney! Hope you didn't do a minor typo, already happened once this very morn!

ROD: Errrr... heh, of course not Alun, for goodness' sake! Listen, Alan, I - oh look, it's that moody bald bloke off The Eastenders!

ALUN: Listen, The Rodney, I want to introduce you another new face - Rodney, meet David Brent!

YOUNG DAVID BRENT: Heh, 'ello, cock! Not... penis. Rude.

ALLAN: We expect big things from this guy! I want you to take him down The Nag's for Cassie's anniversary!

BRENT: Was gonna go to the 'appy Mondays tonight - said nahhh... not that I couldn't get tickets... and take acciiiiiiiiieeeedd!! (breaks into awkward laughter) Nah, not really... not that I'm scared of them ecstasy pills or nuffing - a pinta is y'real man's drug, heh!

ALLUN: Er, right, off y'go lads! Knock off early!

BRENT (looking at watch): Ooh, boss bending the rules, what next? Ha! Nah. Just...

INT.FLAT.EARLY EVE.

ROD: David, this is my brother Derek!

DEL: Alright? You camming dahn the pab wiv us?

BRENT: Indeed, present AND corrrrr-ect! *whistles nervously* Ooh... (spots little lion cigar jar and points at it, giggling)... yeah? Yeah?

INT.NAG'S.EVE.

MICKEY: This your new mate, Rod?

BRENT: Alright, 'The Specials'? Only joking. (rubbing hands together) Riiiiight then, lads - choose your weapons!

MIKE: What you 'avin, mate?

BRENT: Ha, is 'e...? Several strrrrong ales, methinks, obviously (pulls face)!

MIKE: Eh? No, what kind, mate?

BRENT: Cheeky! (points two fingers to own eyes then at Mike) I'll be watching... er, round of Budweiser, please. Round of Budweiser.

ROD: Let me introduce you to everyone, David... this is Trigger!

TRIG: Wotcher, Dave!

BRENT (grinning): Heh, 'es a bit... yeah.

TRIG: We got two Daves now!

BRENT: Ment'l!

ROD: ...and this is Boycie and Marlene!

BRENT: Ooh, barren. Nah. Nah, shouldn't...

DEL: An' this is Denzil - black as the ace of spades!

BRENT: Haha! Racial.

DENZ: Nah, it's alright Dave 'es juz havin' a laff!

BRENT: Brilliant! Inclusive.

ROD: And this is Albert.

BRENT: The old guard! Love it.

ALBERT: 'allo son! J'know, durin' the war...

BRENT (thumbing): Oh... 'es off! Classic.

DEL: An' this is Raquel - my significant other, huhhuh!

RAQUEL (smiling ruefully): Del!

BRENT: Your significant other what, heh! (the smiles drop). No.

ROD: And last but not least, my lovely wife, Cassandra!

BRENT: Ooh, hello! Tell you what, if the marriage breaks down I'm on the market (breaks down into nervous hysterics) for a quick shag, ahahahehhah!

[RODNEY REACTS]

BRENT: Nah. Sorry.

DEL: Well I fink that's everyone...

BRENT: Except Granddad, obviously! Ehhh. Nooooo. Oh wait, You forgot the other one!

DEL: The other what?

BRENT: Jevon. Nah. Didn't...

DEL: 'ere Rodders, you shown young David rand the tahn yet?

ROD: Mos' prob'bly.

BRENT: Ha! Pain'id the town red, we did! We'll be visit'in Sid's Cafe next haha! Nah. Not really. Food.

ROD: 'ows business, Del?

DEL: Wellll, you know... market's always bit slow today.

BRENT: Heh, (in funny voice) 'get a real job, y'skiver!' No.

DEL: You cheeky sod!

BRENT: Like Del & Rodney! And another one.

MARLENE: 'ere, David, I 'eard tell you was leavin' the company.

BOYCIE: Marlene will you shut up!

ROD: Eh?!

BRENT: Eh, oooh, yeah. Movin' on to bigger things!

DEL: What bigger things?

BRENT: Well I play guitar in this band see. We're supporting a band called Texas next week - well, they're probably supporting us!

DENZIL: Oh, we have a pop star in our midst!

BRENT: Nah, nah. Well... it's an ambition! 'This time next year, I'll be millionaires', ha! No. Yeah. But failing that, I plan to apply for work in Slough.

DEL (nearly choking on pina colada with laughter): Not that dodgy Wernham-Hogg firm?

BRENT (unsure): Errr, yeah. This time next year I'll be (bites lip and points at self with both hands) in the hotseat. In fact, Alan did me a fantastic letter of recommendation... said I was 'best employee' and everyfing!

ROD: Oh, and where is this letter?

BRENT (after awkward pause, gulps beer and raises eyebrows): Hm?

ROD: Where is this 'letter of recommendation'?

BRENT: Letter...?

TRIG: Yeah, Dave, the letter!

BRENT (dismissively): Wellllllllll....

ROD: Well come on Dave, show us this fantastic letter from Alun!

BRENT (through corner of mouth, raising eyes): 'I don't actually carry it wiv me!'

ALBERT: 'e 'asn't got it! 'es lyin'!

BOYCIE: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

BRENT (mockingly, starring off into distance): It's like, 'ooh!', just because I don't carry a bloody letter wiv me... 'ooh, y'lying!' Ignorant.

ALBERT: 'ere, san, Mike's got a guitar be'ind the bar! I'll join y'on the pianah! I know all the modern 'its... (singing, badly) 'all you can dooooo izzzz, step back in time!'

BRENT: Bless 'im!

MIKE: There y'go, mate.

BRENT: Right. (singing) Pretty girl on the hood of a Reliant Robin, yeah...

Outro!

[DangledTeeth]

Miami Twice - The Dream of Fucking Off to America

Int. Trotters' Flat

Rodney storms in to the lounge from the front hall

Del: Everything triffic, Rodders?

Rodney: No. Everything is not triffic, Del. I've just been down to view the house. And you were right, Del, LDA does not stand f- oh, wrong episode. Erm... yeah. I've heard from Cass that she can't make the holiday; she's got a bank seminar in Eastbourne on the week of the holiday.

Del: Oh, that it is a choker. She ought to get 'er priorities right.

Raquel: She has been preparing for this for a very long time. It's important she goes.

Rodney: Yeah, I know. It's just the timing. Goodnight (Exits to bedroom)

Del: Yeah, goodnight bruv. (To Albert and Raquel) it's a shame he didn't phone earlier, 'cause I said to him 'you must phone Cassandra.' But you know what a 4-carat per-lonker wanker he is.

Raquel: Yhmm.

Int. Rodney's/Damien's Room

Rodney wraps himself in the bed sheets, closes his eyes and opens them to see Damien look at him through a cot, a music track plays over the scene

Yello: OooOoOOoOooOh YYYyyYYeEeEEeaaaAAaAAahHHhhHh!

Rodney: Go back to sleep, Damien. You wouldn't want Uncle Rodney to be upset. *OOHWL! OOHWL! CHK... CHK-A-DE-AAAAH*

Del (Via baby intercom): Stop being a cunt, Rodney!

Rodney: JJJEEESUS IN A FIAT!

Rodney dashes out of the bedroom into the lounge and stands

Del: Alrigh', bruv?

Rodney: Yeaaaah. Er... I was thinkin', I keep snorin' so I'll sleep 'ere tonight. Might wake Damien up, bless 'im. I'm gonna have a shower before I fuck the sack. (Exits to bedroom area)

Damien cries, Raquel exits

Albert: Rodney won't go, will he?

Del: Yes. He's going to go, do you know why? 'cause I'm going with him.

Raquel sees to Damien and she listens to Del on the intercom

Del (Via intercom): I'd only go for a week, Albert. It's not like I'm goin' away for 6 months. Raquel will be alright with it. I'll say 'Now oi! I'm gahn on fuckin' 'oliday, swee'eart. I need to run away from a bollocked-up wine delivery. Like it or dumplings; pick the bones out of the fish, darlin'. I couldn't fuck a toss what you think. I'm off to Miami and back!'

Raquel enters the lounge

Albert: Del's got sammink to tell ya, lav.

Del does a squinted glare at Albert

Raquel: What's that, Del?

Del: Your programme's just started.

Raquel: What programme?

Del: Er... the one about penguins knitting the Armada

Raquel: I've not heard that one before. Where'd you hear that one?

Del: It's in this month's Radio Times.

Albert: But we haven't got this month's issue.

Raquel: And the telly isn't on.

Del: (Presses remote control) We can sort that one out. Oh, poor little Rodney.

Albert: Are you on about the tickets to Miami, sahn?

Del: Yes, Uncle, I am. Cassandra can't go, so that leaves room for one person. And Rodney won't go by 'imself. Oh, poor motherfucking little Rodneeyyyy.

Albert: What abaht Mickey Pearce?

Del looks unimpressed

Del: That's... that's a brillyunt idea, that, Unc. The trouble, see, the trouble is, the tickets are in the name Trotter and are non-transferable.

Raquel: That means someone with the surname Trotter has to go?

Del: Exactly.

Albert: Moi surname's Troh-ah. I can gaoh!

Del looks horrified, shakes his head and clenches a fist

Raquel: Yes. You're experienced with travel, very sensible and you haven't been anywhere abroad in years. And Del needs to play his role as father more.

Del (Falsely): Yes, ha ha. Cushty. I wouldn't wanna go anyway.

Albert: I'll get packing and tell Rodney the good news. (Exits. Raquel goes to the kitchen)

Del: Oh, fuckin' Connery Bennett!

Int. Airport

Rodney and Albert are casually dressed; they make their way through the concourse. Richard Branson turns and smiles at Rodney.

Rodney: All aboard the Virgin Transatlantic.

Albert: Not 'alf, Rodney! HUEH-HERGH-URP-ERH-HERGH

Drums: Bap-tap-tuh-bapabapapa-bap-uh-bom-bap-uh-bom-bap-uh-bom-bapa-bap