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

[Glebe]

INT.NAG'S HEAD.DAY.

DEL: Pina coloda, Mike! Cor, another busy, noisy day in the capital city, eh, Trig?

TRIG: Yeah, Del... yeah...

DEL: What you 'avin, then?

TRIG: Oh, nothing for me, Del. I'm off into Epping Forest to smoke DMT, which is classed as a psychedelic drug but may actually be, as I suspect, the gateway to another dimension. I intend to converse with the legendary DMT 'machine elves'.

DEL: Errrr... alright mate. See you f'the match then later, eh?

TRIG: I don't think so, Del. I DON'T THINK SO.

THE END.

[Glebe]

INT.NAG'S HEAD.NIGHT.

YOUNG DAVID BRENT: Another round of ales, dear barkeep, hahaha!

MICKEY: You still 'ere, mate?

BRENT: Yeah - you try keeping a lid on that lot, hahaha!

ROD: Er... you'll probably been leaving soon, eh David?

BRENT: Not yet Rodders - it's your round!

ROD: Emm...

DEL: Don't be a plonker all your life, Rodney!

BRENT: Banter.

CHRIS FINCH: HEY-HEY!! Alright, you soft southern shites!

BRENT: I don't believe... HAHAHA, brilliant! Listen, everyone, this is my mate Finchy!

FINCHY: Me, mates with this twat?

BRENT: Hahah, we always... typical...

FINCHY: Er, Brent, have you tried copping off with that bag over there?

BLOSSOM: Help! Police!

BRENT: Lesbian.

FINCHY: Haha, calm down pal. (to Mike) 'ere, mate, pinta bitta when y'ready!

BRENT: Finchy, this is Rodney, my work mate... that's 'is brother Del, and that's their uncle, who lives wiv 'em!

ALBERT is dancing the hornpipe.

MIKE: Del, Albert's had too much rum! I told you to keep an eye on him!

BRENT: Hehe, look ah iz littul legs!

FINCHY (spotting CASSIE): 'el-lo, ooze this, then! Wouldn't mind giving her one up the shitter (mimes doggy-style sex).

CASSANDRA: HOW DARE YOU!

ROD (standing): You rotten sod, I'll-

FINCHY: And them two (points at RAQUEL and MARLENE) can join in an' all, we'll 'ave a gang bang!

DEL (making a lunge for FINCHY): Right, that's it, mate!

BOYCIE: AHAHAHAHAHAHA!! (he stops, mid-cigar, realising what FINCHY has said. His smile drops.)

MIKE: Right, that's it, you two (points to BRENT and FINCHY) OUT, you're barred for life! Don't let me ever see you pair in here again!

FINCHY: Y'beers fucking 'orrible anyway, pal.

BRENT: Yeah, fucking horrible! Tosser.

BRENT dodges behind FINCHY and legs it out the door.

THE END.

[DangledTeeth]

Gulf War Tribute - The Robin Flies at Dawn

Ext. Top Secret Undisclosed Location

Del and Rodney are standing in front of the van with a Super Soaker 50 strapped above the windscreen

Del (To Albert who's OOV): Have you got that flamin' thing working yet?

Albert: I dannoeh, do I?

Rodney: He's no David Bailey.

Del: David Bailey? More like divvy daily.

Albert rushes into view alongside Del and Rodney

Del: Right (Salutes in unison) Attention! (Faint helium voice, to camera) Good evening, chaps. This is Derek Trotter reporting from a secret location sahmwhere in savvern England.

Albert: It's 'igh Wycombe.

Del pauses with his mouth open and eyes closed. He furiously turns to face Albert

Del: Youuu dozy old JUBBLYCUNT! You've gone and bollocked it all up by givin' it a-bloody-way naow.

Rodney: He's no Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Del: An'nee Kiedis? More like Agony Quiche-dick by the time I've finished stampin' on Albert's knackers.

Albert: Alright, it's not 'igh Wy'ombe, it just looks like 'igh Wycombe.

Del: Oh shattap, you bleedin' wankertart! You've well and truly cuntin' knackered this up, Albert. Gordon Uni'ed Cahlers of fuckin' Bennetton!

Rodney (Lurches to camera): Oh and er, don't worry, we'll look after your wives.

Albert: Yeah. By givin' 'em one in the fanny. (Makes his head wobble) HUEH-HERP-UH-HUYURP-HUH-HEERRRH!

Sullivan: WE'VE GOT LIGHT TANKS, CLAYMORES AND MILES AND MILES OF M60 ROUNDS.



Strip to the Waist, Mr Trotter

Del is resting on a hospital bed, wearing a red silk dressing gown

Albert: Visiting time's over. Can't say I'm disappoin'ed. Death and sickness everywhere.

Del: It ain't that bad, Unc (Does a light-hearted 'what is he like' expression to Rodney and Cassandra)

They go to exit, except for Del

Del: Hang about, Rodney. (Rodney sits alongside Del's bed) I've been having a long think about my life.

Rodney: That's ironic, you're so bored you end up reminiscing about yourself.

Del: Yeah (Does a double-take) I think I've got... (ashamed expression) you know...

Rodney: Eh?

Del: I might have... (concerned expression)

Rodney: Whatyoumean... (frowns briefly)

Del: No.

Rodney: What then?

Del: I think it's (pouts and nods).

Rodney: Jelly basketball referee?

Del: Naoh, naoh, you taart. (Nods sideways)

Rodney: Oh, you think it might be (Nods slightly and arches his top lip)

Del: Oh, I hadn't thought of thaaaat. But nah, nah, I'm certain it's (tries to appear stoic).

Rodney: I still don't get what you mean.

Del (Mildly frustrated): Oh, f'gawwwwd sake, Rodney, I'm alluding to the old HIV, ain't I.

Rodney: What makes you think that?

Del: I've been thinkin' about all those birds I've knocked abaht with, and that time I got a perm done by some bloke called Jay-ssssern - what if I caught a cold off him?

Rodney: Del, you can't accuse people of things like that because he cut your hair.

Del: Through cutting my hair? Noooo... I sucked 'im off (pause) have the week off, I'm only joking.

Rodney: Oh don't be stupid. If it was that, they'd have noticed it ages ago.

Del: Good point, bruv. But I tell you one thing I 'ave got.

Rodney: What?

Del: A bacon sarnie under me arse.  MUARRRGH!

The following day

Doctor: Weh've got tae mehke a dasazyun, Mr Trotter. It's either yueh or thae bebby.

Del: Doctor Meadows?

Dr Meadows: Please, Del, not in front of the patients.

Del: Oh, sorry. Doctor Fucking Meadows, you wanking old cunt.

Dr Meadows: Much better. I had a look at a file and I thought 'is this the drink-swigging, gambling, rip-off maverick I love so dearly?'
and then I thought 'No, that doesn't sound terrible enough to be Derek Trotter'.

Del: (Believing it's a compliment) Why, thank you, Robbie. So what's up, Doc?

Dr Meadows: Well, you haven't got the noofter flu. However, your hedonistic lifestyle has given you - what is widely known throughout the medical profession as - the shits!

Richard Delkins: Thank Allah, thank the Flying Spaghetti Monsssterrrr, Wotan, Zeus, The Space Kettle, Vishnu, one of the Thundercats.

Dr Meadows: Relieved, eh?

Del: Weeellll.

Dr Meadows: Cut back on the pina coladas, have a cigar on a special occasion. Live a boring life. See you, Del. And don't fucking come back (Smiles before exiting)

Del: Thanks. Thank you, Robbie. Good luck with Games Master.

Dr Meadows: I'm not Dominic Diamond.

Antiquated theme: RRREHB-BAAAA-BE-DE-DA-DA-DE-PADAAH-PEEEEE-EEEE-LONK!

[Glebe]

EPISODE: MEDJOOL DATES.

Opening theme.

INT.FLAT DAY.

ALBERT: 'ere, Del, fand this old box o' belongin's... 'ere, there's a fotah of 'elga, German woman I fra'ernised wiv. Oh, she was bootiful. (scratches beard) Yah. Used ta give me an extra ride for free. Yah.

DEL: She's a right old potboiler!

ROD: Del!

DEL: Er, I mean, she's laverly, unc!

ALBERT: Yah. An' I also picked this app (produces strange cube) in a bazaar out in the Middle-East. It's sam kinda strange puzzle box. Guy offered it to me an' said "what's your pleasure, Mr. Trotter?"

DEL: Weol yoor dah wan wiv all dem GCEs, Rodney, YOU try an' figure it aht!

ALBERT: Yah. Now *sniff* oi feel a bit saaaad, orf to me room!

ROD: Oi, Del, look at this on the back of the photo... "Lads, it's me birfday (sic) in a capal (sic) of weeks, do samfink (sic) special for us (sic), preferably involving a strippah (sick)." (the camera zooms to an EXTREME CLOSE-UP on RODNEY'S face as he looks DIRECTLY down the camera lens) Do you think 'es - dare I say it - 'droppinh 'ints'?

AUDIENCE: Yehahahaha.

INT.NAG'S.DAY.

DEL: Wotcher, Trig. Cor, your all bunced up wiv a laverly banch of flawahs! Were you off to, then?

TRIG: Computer dating, Del.

MIKE: The last time Trig had a date, it all went wrong!

DEL: 'e was the one that went on a date and caught them compooter viruses! Only kidding!

MICKEY: 'ere, Rodney, take Nervis Nerris out, she's keen!

JEVON: Yeah... smoove.

ROD: Alright, then... 'ere, Nellis, fancy a date?

NORRIS: Ooh, I'm ever s'nervous!

EXT.STREET.DAY.

DEL spots TRIG gain' into a restarant wiv sam bird.

DEL: Cor... Trig, you crafty old retard, I'll 'ave a bit of thaaaght!

INT.COMPUTER DATING AGENCY.DAY.

DEL: 'allo, mush. Giz a date.

MAN WITH SENSIBLE 80'S HAIR & BIG 80'S GLASSES: Alright then, Mr. Trotter, what are you looking for?

DEL: Ow nafink much, just a fit bird wiv all the trimmings! An' she's guaranteed a steak meoul!

MAN: Alright, Mr. Trotter, just let me feed your data into the computer... ah, here's one... no, she's too classy for the likes of you, you disgusting, lower-class little oik... oh, here's one, Raquel Turner, nee Slater, she's a big actress!

DEL: It's a date!

INT.FLAT.FOLLOWING AFTERNOON.

DEL: Splash a Brut, Bob's your uncle!

RODNEY enters, dressed as James Dean.

DEL: Rodney, what are you like? Is that before or after Dean was smashed to bits in the fatal car crash, ha?!

HOT ROD (combing hair in mirror): It's called the James Dean look and it's very fashionable.

INT.WATERLOO STATION.DAY.

DEL is standing under the infamous Waterloo Clock.

PROZZIE: Alright love, fancy a hard fuck?

DEL: Listen, you, if you don't piss off I'm gonna shav these flawahs right app your [FOGHORN NOISE]!

PROZZIE: Okay, but it'll cost yah an extra farving!

DEL (ruffling in pocket): 'ang on... nah, nah, you better beat it, bruv 'eres the Old Bill!

A figure approaches, with 80's female mullet and grey 80's coat.

RAQUEL: Hello, Derek, is it?

DEL: Listen Raquel, if you don't get staffed I'm gonna shav these flawahs right oop yah [FOGHORN NOISE]!

RAQUEL: Haha, that'll cost more bunce. Let's repair, shall we?

The camera floats up.

RAQUEL: This is like that film... Brief Encounter.

DEL: Oh yeah, yeah, that is my most favourite fiom, that iz. I lav the bit where the space ship camz dahn!

RAQUEL: That's Close Encounters!

DEL: Nah, nah, I meant David Lean's 1945 classic Brief Encounter, starring Celia Johnson, Trevor Howard and Stanley Holloway, 86mins, B&W!

INT.RELIANT ROBIN.DAY.

ROD: Right, Orville, just let me set the car on fire wiv me cig! Now, where to? In an odd, ill thought out and head-scratching reference that leads onto to a weak joke in a capal of lines, Cruising, with Al Pacino, is on at the Queen Vic... or we could have a streak dinner?

MELVILLE: Nah, nah, nervous, don't like pictures, already eaten!

ROD: Right, then, we'll just go 'cruising'... for rent boys!

EXT.COUNCIL HOUSE.DAY.

The band NEW MODEL ARMY jump into a car with yellow pack beer, going "yoooooiiii!". They zoom off, eventually pulling up alongside ROD & MERIS.

NEW MODEL ARMY LEAD SINGER JUSTIN SULLIVAN: Aye up, lads, it's Rodney Trotter, dressed as James Dean! Your brovver is managing the band now, just got us on Top of the Pops!

ROD: WHAT?! That conning git! And as for you... (gives lads the finger)

JUSTIN: Right, that's it, you style icon! Get 'im, lads!

NERVOUS: Wodknee, I thought we was just meant to be cruising!

DEAN: We are cruising, Morris, at 100mph in a built-app area!

INT.THE RITZ.DAY.

DEL DUVALL: This is the life, eh nee Slater (puffs a cigar)?

RAQUEL TURNER NEE SLATER: More expensive bubbly, Del? Chuckle!

JEEVES: Your Lordship, your New York office is calling.

DEL: Tell 'em to wait, Pedro!

RAQUEL: I love art and all that guff. Did you see the Chekov play on BBC2 last night?

DEL: Oh yeah, yeah, that iz my most bestist. But nah, never mind me... brovvah Rodney, is the wan wiv the GSEs! Never drive a car fast nor nafink!

EXT.SPRY SPRY PECK'AM RYE.DAY.

In a death-defying Hollywood stunt, RODDERS drives the car through the air, smashing through obstacles and going on fire and all.

POLICEMAN (in police car): 'ere, follow those plonkers!

Rodney take a detour. He is suddenly in Florida's Everglades.

SHERRIFF BUFORT T. JUSTICE (in US police car on side road): Did you see that? After him, Junior!

DOM DELUISE (in another car w/BURT REYNOLDS): Buckle up, JJ! This is a job for... Captain Chaos!

ADAM WEST (in Batmobile): Robin... this could be a crazy, criminal caper! TO THE BATMO... oh wait we're already in it.

WAYLONG JENNINGS (voicover): Heh heh, well, I reckon even the Duke boys could get involved in this one! And there goes Professor Pat Pending in the Convert-A-Car! (singing) Convoy, convoy!

ROD & NERZ speed off. Everyone else is stopped by the fuzz.

JULIET BRAVO: I got the licence plate! Which is lucky, there's loads of Reliant Robins with 'Trotter's Independent Traders' written on the side around That London!

A YOUNG STEVE COOGAN: Right... and you lot of wacky racers... don't evah do that again! As for you, NMA lead singer... give me your name and home address!

JUSTIN (singing): Don't ask anymore stupid questions... you already knnoow the answers!

INT.RELIANT.DAY.

ROD: Phew... you alright, Meryl?

Moovis or whatever she's called is just clumped down the seat, staring blandly at Rodney as she weeps.

INT.RAQUEL'S FLAT/SLATER'S UNDERCOVER HIDEY-HOLE.NIGHT.

RAQUEL (cleaning the dishes): It's alright, this episode, despite the grim, dirty mid-80'sness that permeates it. Like the episode 'To Hull and Back'.

DEL (on phone): 'ere, Boycie, get me blackballed or I'll tell Marlene you've been doing allsorts wiv who-knows!

INT.NAG'S.FOLLOWING NIGHT.

BOYCE: Couldn't getcha blackballed Del (I'm potless, and that-is-no-lie!), but what's this?! Durst an old sailor play the pianah?

ALBERT (singing, dressed as Popeye): I was on the Cent-er-al Line...

HEAD OF THE NAVY: Mr. Albert Trooooooter?!

ALBIE: Yeeeuuuuuuzzzz?!

NAVY: (Wait for it, wait for it, hidden wigged Raquel!) I are arresting yoooooou for all those boat sinkin's! 'ave you anything left to say in your defence before being sent down for multiple life sentences?

ALBERT: B-but... it was years agah!

RAQUEL: Albert Trotter (removes hat robotically) Ha-ppy birth-daaaaaay!!

RAQUEL sits on AL's knee. A right-old knees-app ensues!

EVERYONE (singing): Under-neath the ar-ches!

RAQUEL: DEL!

DEL: Gordon bleedin' - WHAT?!

BOYCIE: Wot, this is Raquel? Stripper, as it seems? AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Most join in the cruel laughter. DEL flees, pursed by a poignant RODNEY.

EXT.NAG'S PARK.NIGHT.

DEL (slamming car door): It was bootiful... I mean really bootiful!

ROD: Don't 'ave a tantrum just coz she's a cheap whore!

RAQ: DEL! DEL! I'm sorry!

DEL: 'ow was I supposed to knaw yoo woz a horrid, floozie brasser?

RAQUEL: You told lies too! You said you was famous actor Robert Duvall!

DEL: There are winners and losers in the game of love!

RAQUEL: We woz just kids, Del! We woz only playing games!

DEL: With each roll of the dice you take a chance on love!

RAQUEL: One minute it's all flowers and chocs, the next au revoir, ménage à trois!

DEL gets into the car. It falls apart, like a clown car.

INT.SID'S CAF.DAY.

DEL: Raquel... would you like sam of my chip buttie?

RAQUEL: I set sail for a tour of Bagdad in the morn... yet call me in time and I shall be yours... forevah!

INT.NAG'S.DAY.

ROD: Gawwon, san, av anothah pina and be late!

ALBERT: 'oos Rachel?

COOGAN: You the owner of that car, registration number DEL 1?

DEL: Eh? Yeah, wozzapp?!

COOGAN'S BLUFF: I am arresting you on suspicion of murder!

DEL: Ah, Albert! You cheeky sod! You 'ave to get app early in the morning to catch them worms!

ALBERT: Weren't nuffing ta doo wiv me, san!

DEL: Cam on, 'urry up, get 'em off Bravo Two Zero!

DEL rips JULIET'S blouse off and begins a sexual assault.

MARGARET THATCHER (gasping, deep): NICK 'IM!!

EXT.RAQUEL'S EMOTIONALLY DEPRESSING CITY HOUSE FLAT.DAY.

MISS SLATER drags a huge trunk - containing a dead body of a grass her ex-husband wanted rid off - out to a waiting taxi.

RAQUEL (voiceover, singing): I want to get you... on a slow bus to Chingford!

INT.TAXI.DAY.

TAXI DRIVER: Pakis, immigrants! Where to, lav?

NICOLE, PAPA: Take me to the Middle-East, Mr. Taxi Driver Man, please!

INT.POLICE STATION.DAY.

DEL: Anyone got the number for Dubai?

AUDIENCE: AHYEHHEHHEHHEH!!

EPILOGUE.

INT.MANDELA.EVENING.

DEL: Phew, managed to hoc me jewellery for bail. Where's Rodney, unc?

ROD: Here, Del! I think I've managed to solve this mysterious and sinister puzzle box!

ALBERT: Leg it, Del!

DEL and ALBERT depart with haste. The room goes dark, but for slits of hazy light shining in. Wooden beams encrusted with hooks spin into RODNEY'S midst.

PINHEAD: WE ARE THE CENOBITES! ANGELS TO SOME! DEMONS TO OTHERS!

Chains fly out and hooks rip into RODNEY'S fake, latex flesh.

PINHEAD: OH, NO TEARS NOW! IT'S A WASTE OF GOOD SUFFERING!

RODNEY'S SOUL IS TORN APART.

THE END.

End theme.

[Glebe]

EPISODE: IN SICKNESS AN' IN 'EALTH, I SAID I WIOL!

Bream thong.

INT.NELSON'S FLAT.EVENING, ALL!

ROD (on phone): Come on, Cassandra, Del's got a dicky tum and Albert's built a sauna in da kitchen! Goodbye... (Mickey Pearce's voice dubbed on) hehehe, lav you! Muh! Muh! Who's a pretty boy, then?!

ALBERT (a la Vic Reeves): You would not belieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve the saunas in there!

ROD: Please sir, can I 'ave sam moah?

ALBERTOS: 'ave some Chinese! I spent the navy on top of a horny merchantman!

ROD: Aoooow, so that's wot caused it!

ROD has a tap on the compooter.

DEL'S ARSE: BZZZZZZZZ!!

DEL: Soz, I got PMS, PMT, PMDD, PTSD an' Positive Mental Octopus! Blue dresses, Rodney! Blue dresses!

ALBERT: Eviction notice, eviction notice! 'ere, it's cold in da barfroom! P'r'aps that Elsie Partridge - you know, the wan 'oo 'az a grandsan 'oos a DJ in Norwich - she'll sort it! She makes fahzandz!

DEL: She's a medium, a seer, not a dress size, hah! Fetch the Pepto-Bismol salts! Bring me wine! Cor, you say fahzandz? Lovely jubbly!

ROD: Ever get the feelin' that somewan iz 'avin' a wank or 'avin a shit while your in the shawar?

DEL: 'I love you, Cassandra'! Twat.

INT.OLD NAG.NEXT EVE.

JEVON: We sold that death trap you sold us, Boycie!

BOYCIE: Hold up, 'ere come the Ghostbusters! Humpy spook!

DEL, ROD & ALBERT enter dressed in grey boiler suits to the Ghostbusters theme.

INT.NAG'S FUCTION ROOM UP TOP.EVE.

The gang join ELSIE rand the ol' taybul!

DEL: Head's up, eyes down, housey housey!

BOYCE: Now now, come along, cut it out, stop, halt, the Del Boy, show a bit of dignity, decorum, gumption, respect.

ELSIE PARTRIDGE: Spirits, join us! Ooooeeee!!

The audience laugh as the cast look up into the overhead lens.

ELSIE: Oooooh, auuuuurrrrr!! Ooooeeee!!

MIKE: Wot she doin'?

TRIG: She's shitting out wan of yor manky pies, Michaels.

ELSIE: 'Aubrey?' Ooooeeee!!

AUBREY: I AM HEH-YAH!

ELS: It's Mr. Benn! 'e says, 'ave a baby, Boycie! Ooooeeee!!

AUBOYCE: Fuck that, I'm orf!

ELSIE: There's samone else... it's Mother Trotter, says 'go to the doc, Del, Albert didn't put Elsie up to this! Oh, and I'm watching you and Cassandra, Rodney'! (Elsie winks at ROD) Anything else? Speak to me! Speak to me! Ooooeeee!!

The light cams on.

EVERYONE: YEEEEEAAARRRRGGGGGHHH!!

NERVOUS NERIL: AAAAHHHHHHAHAHAHAHOOOOOOOOEEEEEEE!!

ROD: Oh look, Nervous Nigel is in this one too!

ALBERT: Fanks for faking that orgasm, Els! I'm grateful!

ALFIE: Ooooeeee!!

INT.NAG'S BACK DOWNSTAIRS.

MARLENE: Delbert, I is gonna drop a sprong, named Tyler. 'e will appear in spin off The Green Green Grass, all grown app!

DEL: Oooooorrrrr!! Phantom pains!

INT.DOCTOR'S SURGERY.NEXT DAY.

DEL: Where's Shane Meadows?

DR. SHAHEED: You mean Robbie? Wot's up, Del?

DEL: Gimme a bottle of jollop for me pain that I got in New Delhi!

DR.: Hey hey, that's my home town! Mister Trotters, do you know you have acute halitosis?

DEL (aside to camera): That's an old one!

DOC: Strip off, behind curtain.

DEL (behind curtain): I only 'ave a snifter of brandy come Christmas and a Cuban on St. Swithen's Eve!

DOC: No harm!

DEL: Yeah, all that 'ummus and goat's mulk f'me! I'm like a Grotbags, me!

DOC (going behind curtain then immediately camming back oot!): Mr. Trotter, when I said 'strip ye to the waist' I meant lob y'big langer oot!

AUDIENCE: Yu-huh, yu-huh.

LATERZ.

DEL: So there's nufink wrong with me! Tawer Bridge! Passing liquid!

DOC (slyly): Wellllll I'm not so sure. I wish all my victims were as easy as you, Master Trottah! Pop down to Peckham General, grumbling appendix.

DEL: I will rudely use your phone. (on phone) Rodney Trotter? My brovvah? Pick me up, I dunt wanna go un moi own!

AUDIENCE: Ahhhh.

INT.NAG'S.LATER.

ROD: Mike, givvus a bottle of Bacardi spiked with coke and a bacon sarnie! Lotsa HP!

ALBERT: Green Parrot's Disease. Green Parrot's Disease.

INT.PECKHAM GENERAL.EVE.

DEL IN TASTEFUL RED GOWN W/DRAGON: This is the only clinical establishment in da world dat don't 'ave - and I mean this literally - a Bacon Sarnie Detector™!

ROD (genuinely shocked): Really?!

DEL: How'd the cock-up go?

ROD: People thought those séance posters meant a band was camming! Punk rockers came... Scrumpy Jack... people shouting 'acciieeeeedddd!!'

CASS: Yes, they were expecting million-selling rockers Iron Maiden.

DEL: Punk, acid house crowd and heavy metal are all different musical genres.

ALBERT GLADSTONE TROTTER: Let's go, I 'ate these places, all 'orrible and Del's fucked! You stay wiv 'im Rodney for an 'eart to 'eart!

DEL: Oi fink I know nawh, Rodney.

ROD: What, you don't mean...?

DEL: Yes. I have THE BIG GAY PLAGUE.

ROD: 'ow cam? Specifically state where you came by this, oh my brother, and I will start a public 'name and shame' campaign.

DEL: I got it off sam puff named (camply) 'Jason'! That was his surname.

ROD: Well, as long as he didn't... don't tell me, he kissed it better? Poison saliva.

DEL: Think of all the dogs I slept with dahn the decades, Roddeez, riddled wiv herpes and crabs! And Uncle Albert, he's been rand the world more times than Popeye! And there's a spare bed downstairs, Rodney. A fucking spare bed. (DEL looks frightened).

ROD: Bye.

DEL: ARRRGGHHHHHHH!! HEEELLLPPP!! AGGGONNNNY!!

ROD: Hold on there, Derek!

DEL: Y'plonker, just shat on a sarnie!

INT.HOCKSPITAL.LATER OON.

NURSE: 'ere, saucy!

DEL: That fish winked at me!

Suddenly it all kicks off. Dr. Nookie comes flying down the stairs on a bed frame, going "ai-ai-ai-ai-ai!" Even Peter Butterworth is going round and round on a floor polisher in fast motion or something. When the dust settles...

JIM KERR: Well, well, well. You gotta make a decision, Mr. Trotter, either you or the wooden leg goes!

Background music.

Sadness turns to smiles as DEL turns his head dramatically to face the Simple Minds lead singer.

DREK: Robbie Meadows! As I live and breath!

KERR: No, no, it's me out of top-selling 80's outfit, The Simple Minds.

DEL: Givvus and autograph, then!

KERR: Please, not in front of the staff!

KERR: I heard about your case... I thought, 'can this really be the same Trotter, King Cigars, Lord Slags, Mr. Shonky?'

DEL: Yeah, yeah, alright mate.

THE SIMPLE MINDS FRONTMAN: We now know what's wrong with y'Del, och aye the noo.

DEL: Go on. Step on up to the waterfront!

KERR: We thought you had The Full Blown. But sadly, as it turns out... y'fine!

DEL: Thank the maker! This oil bath is going to feel so good!

KERR (singing): Alive and kicking!

DEL: So wotz wong wiv me, Ron?

KERR: You've got an irritating arse, Del. It's caused by An Irritable Bowel's Syndromes. Eat more Special K, go for the odd walk. Here... pop this bomb into your English imperialist pharmacy on y'way home. INDEPENDENCE FOR SCOTLAND!

DEL: Yes... yes, see you around... thank you... (like a little, working class child) thank you very much, Robbie!

KERR (popping head around door): I told you, I'm JIM KERR! Now get out and DON'T EVER LET ME SEE THE LIKES OF YOU IN HERE AGAIN!

DEL: Del knew there was nuffink wong wiv me! Silly old sausage! (weeps and bites knuckle).

INT.FLAT.NEXT MORN.

ALBERT: There ye goes, The Del, pigeon droppings!

DEL: I knew there was samfink wrong with yoo, yah silly old goat (bites Albert's knuckle 'til he weeps)! How many cigars each day?

ALBERT: None, sorry Del. Y'trademark cigars. EVER AGAIN.

The LITTLE LION JAR sheds a tear.

DEL: Well, a tenth one - just this very day! - won't do no 'arm!

ROD (camming in): Olright? Complan.

DEL: Yeah. Why?

ROD: Tying the knot.

DEL: Oh, congratulations Rodney. Should be a good do. (to camera) As long as the Driscoll's don't turn up, hehheh!!

ALBERT: Oh Del, I forgot. Robbie gave me this lettah, it says there was a dreadful mix-app. You've got THE AIDS after all.

DEL: *oomfph* *chuffchuff*

ROD: DEEEELLLLL!! DEEELLLLLL!!

DEL falls to the floor.

THE END.

The Closing Theme Song.

[DangledTeeth]

Modern Theme

To 'ull and Back

Int. Nag's Public Housead. Film

Del: Cam on, Alex, me ol' take-away. Buy a watch off of trustworthy, honest Del Boy.

Alex: I bought I watch off you before and it doesn't work.

Del: Well what do you expect from a deceiving, shifty market trader who contradicts 'imself? 'ave a digi'al watch, mate. I've only
got ffffffouuuur left and this is me last one.

Alex: Eh?

Boycies intrudes

Boycie: Halloeh, Del Boy. Let's 'ave a little chat in this private room.

Private room

Boycie: Oi've got a business proposition for you: smuggling diamonds from Amsterdam. For quite some time I've sought out the most sharp-minded, intelligent bloke for this mildly perilous mission (with a hint of disappointment and regret) then I thought I'd select you.

Del (Smiles and twitches his eyebrows): Why, thank you, Boycie.

Abdul: You'll deliver this briefcase filled with money to a chap called Van Cleef; he'll exchange it for the diamonds.

Del: And what's in it for me?

Abdul: 500 cartons of Ribena!

Del: Fi-

Abdul: Alright, 502. (To Boycie) I knew he'd haggle.

Boycie: You cock, Abdul.

Del: Okay, the deal is on. What flavour? I ain't 'aving bloody apple, gives me a stinging sensation down the back of me 'at and coat.

Boycie: Strawbree flavour.

Del: Cushty Bushty. Oi like strawnborry.

Boycie: We're gonna need to discuss this matter in private, where no rozzers will hear us. Any suggestions?

Del: TRRRIIIGGUURR'S AWRN-EEEEEE! Nah, only joking and horses work. 'ow abaht... Sid's Cafe, tomorra?

Boycie: Nah... I don't wanna tempt meself with a shitty late-night breakfast.

Del: DASSIT! Trigger... old food... what about the back of Trigger's dustcart thing?

Abdul: No. Denzil's lorry is less smellier. Let's meet there at 8pm tomorrow.

Ext. Peckham Street. Day

Rodney: You're not gonna do this immoral, criminal task, Del. Do you realise how many Africans have sacrificed their loives for a few
bloody sparklers?

Del: Eh? Digging up handheld firebangers?

Rodney: Naoh, the diamonds.

Del: Of course I'm not gonna do this task - we are!

Rodney: Now hold on a mi- (They turn a corner and run into Slater and 'oskins)

Slater: If it isn't my old mate Del Boy. It's funny, I was just talkin' about my old mate Del Boy a few seconds ago, wasn't I, Hoskins?

Hoskins: Hmm? Oh... yeah, sir.

Slater: Wanna cup of tea, Del?

Del: Yes.

Slater (Sternly): I don't think you 'eard, Del - do you want a cup of tea?

Del: 'Ave a blananananah! I don't think your heard me. I said yes.

Slater: Oh, sorry. Lead on, Macbeth.

Int Sid's Cafe

Slater: A master plan to smuggle diamonds is about to come to fruition. I know you're not a grass, Del, but give us some
information and I'll give 100 - no, 110 - Freddo chocolate bars (To 'oskins) He'd only go and fools and haggle. La-la-laaaa-la! (To Del and Rodney) We know who the brains are behind this operati-

'Oskins (projected through rolled-up magazine): BBBBERCIE NAND NABDOWL!

Slater (Grimaces): Yes. (To Rodney) Have you thought about joining the police, young Rodney?

Rodney: No. I've already been in a band before (Does a self-satisfied silly laugh)

Slater (Calling): Do you want us to pay for our breakfasts, Sid?

Sid: Yes... if you bought something.

Slater: Thank you, Sidney. Those terms seem acceptable. I've got a train to catch. And tubbed 'er!

Ext. Back Street

Del: Roight, now listen, Rodney. I'm gonna 'ave a quick game of billiards with the chaps in Denzil's lorry. Now if anyone inspects the area, make a highly distinctive sound to alert us.

Rodney: Got it, Del.

Int. Denzil's Lorry

Del: 'elloelloello, what are you two twats doin' in 'ere, then?

Boycie: Del! It's you. Almost gave us a fright.

Abdul: Okay Derek, here is the address and briefcase. Contact us on this number when you arrive, and we'll provide you with the
combination lock.

Del: That plonker Rodniece is comin' with me.

Abdul: Alright, two plane tickets. And good luck, Derek.

They exit, apart from Del who decides to polish his hip snake

Slater, 'oskins and Parker alight from a police car. Rodney is concerned and squirms inside the van

Slater: Report of a lorry being broken into.

Rodney (mumbled singing): It's the fi-naaaal countdowwwwn (blowing through cupped hands) DOOBLE-DE-DEEEEE-BABADADADAAAAAA

Parker: What was that?

Slater: Sounded like Mr Mister.

Rodney (Offended): 'Mr Mister'. Cunt!

'oskins: What about the obtrusive yellow Del Boy van over there diagonally opposite that large fuck-off lorry we've been inspecting?

Slater: I can't see it. Oh, fuck it! Let's go 'ome.

Slater, 'oskins and Parker stop searching. Del is still tugging his KPs off in Denzil's lorry

Denzil exits a building and walks past Rodney

Rodney (snarled whisper): Den-zilllll! (Singing lightly) St Alfonso's pancake breakfast. DINGA-NINGY-NINGY-DA-NAAOW
Where I stole the margariiiiiine! TWANG-A-NANGA-DA-NADUM!

Denzil speeds off in the lorry. Del stumbles over mid-wank and hobbles to where the container is connected to the driver's cabin

Del: DEN-ZIILLLL. NICHT DRIVENEN OFFENHEIM VHILE ICH STILLEIBEN INSIDEISCHABEILUNAVOLLENHACH HAVEN EINEN VANK!

Denzil continues to drive and half-believes he heard Del's voice. Rodney pursues Denzil and opens his back doors (pffth-heh-heh) at Hull

Hull

Del rises up from a cloud of tarpalin and squints through the daylight shining from the open doors of the lorry.

Del: Oh-oh, Thank you, Rodders. I-I knew you'd come for me. You'ra diamond from Hamsterdam, straigh' ahp. Where are we any'ow?

Rodney: Kingston.

Del: Oh, south-west Lahndern.

Rodney: No the other one.

Del: You mean... you drove across the sea?

Rodney: Naooow! Kingston in 'ull.

Del: Hull? As in Yorkshire? (Rod nods) As in England (Rod nods again) England... that place in the Uni'ed Kingdom? (Rodney sighs and nods)

Rodney: Let's have a quick cup of tea and go.

Del observes the surroundings and smiles at several boats

Del: Nawt on yer Nelly! I think we've found ourselves a nice sneaky route to 'olland. (Indicates the boats)

Rodney: A zebra crossing?!

Del: Naoh, naoh, naaaoooh. Beyond thaa-aat, the boats, innit. And I know just the man to sail it.

Cuts to Albert meeting Del and Rodney outside a train station

Albert: Aye-aye, Del (salutes).

Del: Yeah, ahoy there. He knows all the slang, don't he.

Albert, Del and Rodney approach a boatman

Del: Ahoy, me old flubber. Got a spare boat to lend us?

Boatman: Oh-aye. You can take Inge

Rodney: In-gah?

Boatman: No, 'Injinski', as in the ballet boat.

Del: Thanks, your boatship. We'll look after 'er.

The Trotters board the boat and set sail.

Boatman 2: Are y'rerlly gonna trost y'bert w'them sovvern pixies?

Boatman: Yes. Insurance. Ha ha.

Ext. Hill

Denzil (To himself): Right, Denzil, yez talking to yerself, yez clearly a nohtter. But just to be sure, let's have some frrrresh air.
(Inhales with eyes closed. He opens them to the sit of Inge sailing along with Del on the front) Gordon ffffhhockin' Bennett! I'M MENTAL! I'M MENTAL!

Ext. Sea. Day

Del stands on the deck

Del: Right Albert, I've left you in charge of sailing. Go right.

Albert: Eh? Which way.

Del: Right, go right.

Albert: Starburst!

Del: Not yet, they're still called Opal Fruits

Albert: Sorry, Starboard.

Del: I'll bang you one in a minute if you don't shut up with that nautical terminology cobblers.

Rodney: I'm gonna be sick, Del

Rodney's left arm wraps around a metal bar and he hangs over and says 'WUROLP'.

Del (mockingly): Go on, Rodney, cough it all up. Might be another pair of aces. Oh, this gets me pumped up and patriotic.

Spoiler alert

Racial epithet removed by GOLD

[close]

! Stitched up the Spanish 'alf lager.

Spoiler alert

Racial epithet removed by GOLD

[close]

Makes ya prahd to be Bri'ish, dunnit. (Removes his flat cap with overwhelming conceit and presses it against his heart and sings) WEL'OME TO THE JUMBLE! WE'VE GOT FURS AND GATES!

Rodney: Del, don't you think you should sing something more heroic?

Del: Go idea, Rodney. Ahem! CONAN... THE ADVENTURERRRRRR - CONAN - WARRIOR WITHOUT FEEEEAAARRR. HE'S MORE POWERFUL THAN ANY MAN WHOSE LEGEND EVER CROSSED THE SEAAAAA.

Albert: Conan - the mightiest warrior ur-vurrrrr! His quest: to undo the spell of living stone cast upon his family by driving the evil serpent men back into another dimension and vanquishing their evil leader, the cruel wizard Wrath-a-Mon

Del and Albert: CO-NAAAAAN... THE ADVENTURUUUURRRRR. CONAN, MAN OF BRAVERY. WITH HIS MIGHTY SWORD PROTECTING THE MIGHTIEST OF WARRIORS IS HEEEE.

Rodney: FEEL THE POWER. DO-DE-HUM-BEE-DADADA-DAAAAA

Del and Albert: CONAN!

Rodney (Muttered, to himself): Bit too 90's for my liking.

Ext. Boat. Night

Del: I thought we'd be in 'olland by now. With the way we're fackin' gah-in we'll need some scurvy-fighting vi'amins from 'olland and Barracks.

Rodney: It's Barratt.

Del: Yeah, I know how ya feel Rodney.

Rodney: The stars!

Del: We don't need Russell Grant to tell us that Jupiter 'as passed Gammyminge to forecast that we're completed wankered!

Rodney: No, I mean sailors can navigate by looking at the stars.

Albert: He's roight an' all (Albert gazes at the sky then Del and Rodney stare at him) There's millions of 'em.

Rodney: I fuckin' love 'im! I fuckin' bastard pissing shit-wanking well love 'im.

Del: Isn't there anything up there that rings a bell?

Albert: They've all got names like The Jettison Handkerchief Dormitory and Cat Nads.

Del: Well just... find the Cat Nads

Albert: What does it look like?

Del: Well it looks like a flummoxed CUNT!

Albert (Captivated): Look up there - it's Concorde.

Del (Hopeful): Yeah?

Albert: I'm just saying: Concorde!

Del: I'll gonna shove 'im in Davis Jones' rocking chair.

Rodney: Leave 'im, Del.

The following morning

Del: Rodney! We're going to Holland.

Rodney: That's where we're aiming to go.

Del: Nah, nah, not in that respect. Look, there's an oil rig. I'll ask sahmwan! (Shouts) Oi, John. Holland?

Man on Rig: It's right there (indicates several nearby windmills)

Del: Thanks Eleanor Rigsby. Albert, Go straight over there.

Albert: Don't you mean Poppets?

Del: F'gawwwwwd's sake, Albert. Will ya bloody stop it with the nautical confectionery lingo.

Rodney: Where are we exactly?

Albert: This is the North Sea canal, Rodney. Amsterdam is up ahead.

Del: We don't wanna get nabbed by the local polizia, so act like Dutchmen. (Waves and shouts at two people) Ruud Gullit! Spliffy jiffy!

Ext. Street

Rodney: Del! (Indicates two creeping poliziamen) RRRUU-

Del: Naoooh, leavidaht! There's a dodgy-looking bloke in front, look.

Rodney: Aooooh yyyeaaaaaaah!

The police give chase to a dishevelled man

Rodney: So now what do we do?

Del (pouts his lips in deep thought): Let's walk around Dampsterdam in a sor'a montage, accompanied by the sahnds of carousel music and all thaa-aat.

Albert: That's a good oidea, Del.

Trey Parker: We're gonna need a montage! Montage!

Del, Rodney and Albert happily soak up the sights of Dampsterdam in a montage

Music: DA-HUH-NA-NANANA-NUNAH-NAAAH! BLOOOB-BLUH-BLOOP! TOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOT-UUUUUUUH-ERRRRRRRN!

Int. van Cleef's Office

Van Cleef: Ah, Mr Trotter. We've been expecting you. Do you have the money?

Del: Only if you've got the fools and diamonds a-la-la-laaaa-la.

Van Cleef: Yes, of course. (Puts phone receiver to his ear)

Int. Boycie's Showroom

Assistant: Mr Boyce. Telephone call for you.

Boycie: Well tell 'im or 'er to FUCK OFF! Oi've got two customers 'ere interested in one of my bangers.

Assistant: It's about a diamond-smuggling racket.

Boycie goes to urgently shoot off to his office but remembers the two customers

Boycie: Ah yes, it's about the new Rover Diamond Smuggling Racket. It's in the development stages. Do excuse me, Mr Massiveknob.

Int. Boycie's Office

Boycie (on phone): Righ'o, Del. The combination is 1, 1, 1.

Del fiddles with the roll locks. A heavy handles the case, grabs a Wotsit-coloured wad of notes and skim-flicks through it  - IT'S
MORNOPULLY MARNEY! The heavy nods at Van Cleef to indicate it's fine.

Abdul's cousin puts on a welder's mask and scrutinises the diamonds

Abdul's Cousin: I can attest to these diamonds' quality - ffffuckin' top notch, son. I'll be off (Exits)

Van Cleef: That concludes our business, Mr Trotter. Here is your diamond-filled velvet pouch with a drawstring.

Del: Thank you. (Exits, to heavy) Gullit!

Del, Rodney and Albert sail after the Zeebrugge to Hull ferry

Int. Police Station

Slater: Okay 'oskins, get your coat ready. Del Boy is our man. We're going to wait for him at Gatwick Airport.

'oskins (shouting): Parker! Get a car round.

Parker (OOV): Yus, m'lady.

Slater: Now 'oskins, I am going to teach you the importance of airport surveillance. Suspect and try to arrest everyone! Blend in with the crowd so you don't look conspicuous. (Slater removes his blazer and reveals an 'I've Been to Landern And All I Got Was This Fuckin' T-shirt' t-shirt and a Croc Dundee-style cork hat) How do I look?

'oskins: Er. Carry on, sir.

Slater: I look like a holiday-maker. (Gives 'oskins a sneer of disapproval) We're gonna have to sort you out, 'oskins. You look like a right CUNT!

Nag's Head Backroom

Boycie: Where is Del? He said he'd be here

A loud exhaust bang is heard, a rumbling noise of a bald tyre and a rusty, shrill opening sound of the doors' hinges

Adbul: They're here.

Del enters

Del: Here are the diamonds. I've been to Hulland then back to England! Where's the doo-ray-juicy-mee?

Boycie: It's here. (Throws a mass of Ribena on the table)

Slater, still wearing his tourist clothing, kicks off the door

Slater: G'day, skip.

Boycie (Surprised): SLA'ER!

They all run around a table and twice try to exit, which is blocked each way by Parker and Hoskins

Slater: Cor, you're fuckin' malodorous!

Albert: So would you if you spent 4 months sailing.

Slater: Oh, you came in by boat. Who is this bearded turd? No, don't tell me - you're a Trotter.

Albert: Oi'm the boys' Uncle.

Slater: Yeah, I thought as much, the bald head and white beard - big giveaway.

Albert: Joorin doh wor... oo's Rachel?

Del, 'oskins, Abdul, Slater, Parker, Rodney, Boycie: SHUT UP, ALBERT!

Slater: Parker, 'oskins, shut the doors on your way out. (To the smuggler crew) Dear, dear, dear, what am I to do? I don't wanna nick me old school mates. 

Boycie: Leave off, Roy. We were never your mates.

Everyone gives Boycie a dumbfounded expression as a way of saying 'what'd you say that for?'

Slater (Singing like Tony Hadley): TROOOEH! Boycie. Baaaah-huh-huh-haAaaAAaaah. (In normal speaking tone) This makes it all the more easier to make a decision.

Del: Now just a minute, Ruh... slay- Roh- Slaroy. I've got a deal that'll sort this shit out.

Slater: I don't do dels, Deal Boy.

Del: Well you're gonna like this one. I-if I give you the name of the bloke who developed this diamond-smuggling venture with Van Cleef, you let Boycie, Abdul, Albert and Rodney go - no charges.

Slater: Yeah, alright.

Del: You also let me go.

Slater (In cod Aussie): Aw cahm orn, Del, maite. Ar'm looking forward to that.

Del: I don't think you understand, Mr Slater... if I give you the name (hesistant, sickened) I'll be like a lawn on Battersea Park.

Slater: Oh! Del Boy! That is musical ears. Righto Del, here's an immunity from prosection (Del signs) So come on, who started up the diamond-smuggling lark with the Dutchman?

Del (Turns and shows everyone his terrified expression then back to Slater): You did!

Slater (Smiles for a second and looks horrified and defeated): Oh, ffffuckin' 'ell! You tricked me again with that one. This is like bedtime.

Albert: What, you've been 'tucked up'?

Slater: No, I've pissed myself!

Everyone flinches

Del: Ergh. At least we're not the only ones that reek of trout.

Slater: Those terms see acceptable. Do excuse me, I've got a police car to catch and be driven to a side road by 'oskins. Have a nice life, Del Boy.

Del: Oh, I will, Slater. I will.

Rodney: I don't think it's fair to christen a kid TAWDRY-NIBBLE-SPUNK!

Int. Police Car

Slater: Drive me home, Hoskins. This isn't a good day for policing.

'oskins: This is the third time this has 'appened. Do you know what I think.

Slater: You're not paid to think, you're paid to drive me to a cordoned-off side road. Speaking of which, this ain't the way to my gaff.

The car stops at a police cordon

'oskins: They've known about you for a long time, sir. They've never caught you in possession... until now.

Slater: 'oskins, Terrance. I'll give you 'alf the money for a loaf.

'oskins: You seem to be forgetting, sir. I don't think, and I like doughy rolls, and I have a miniature microphone concealed under the lapel of my jacket.

Int. Trotters' Flat. Day. Film

Del: What a bark that was. But I've got some very lovely cufflinks.

Del loosens two diamonds off of his shirt cuffs

Rodney: Oh, I'll drink to that! It ain't all bad, Del. In all that running-arahnd-the-table, I snatched this (Pulls out a film-wrapped load of juice-filled cartons) It was crying out 'Rodney! Rodney!'

Albert: You crafty li'ul quite tall arseface, Rodney!

Del: FFFFFarv 'undred an' twooooeh Rahbeenaargh car'ons!?

Rodney (impersonatin' Boycie, poorly): Oi didn't naow yer wur good at marfs, Del Boy. HAHRAGERGAGAGERAGAG.

Albert: Watch this, boys. (Has a puff on his pipe and two diamonds float in the air and land on the palm of his open hand)

Del: You sneaky old duffershit, Albert!

Albert: HUH-HER-UR-HERGH!

Rodney: Let's invest the money in Benidorm!

Del: No. We shall not, Rodney. (Throws pack of Ribena off the balcony)

Albert (Open-mouthed): For a second, I thought Del chacked that delectable juice orf the bal'ny, Rodney.

Rodney (Goggled-eyed): I did an' all, Unc. Vitamin C. Everything.

Del: Oh. I 'ad to, didn't I. I mean, the police caught whiff of us. And supposin' Slater got fahnd aht, 'oskins and the other mush - who might be from Shepherd's Bush - are gonna come round 'ere to investigate for any evidence of our smuggling trahbles. At least the diamonds you can 'ide discreetly. 502 car'ons of strawedborry Rorbeenah? Nort on yer Nelly! What do you think I am, eh? Some sort of wallycunt?

Sullivan: BUSHBUHBOISHBUSSBOISHBESHBESHBOISHBUSH

[Glebe]

EPISODE: PROBLEMS, PROBLEMS!

Opening feme fumes!

INT.NAG'S SHED.THE DAY.

BOYCIE: The obstetrician saw a sadden shape. I could jast tell boi the look of it... it was a Cornish pasty!

TRIG: Rumours. Phantom pregnant!

MIKE: Speaking of 'engaged baby heads'... those dodgy Del phones iz always 'engaged', haha! And Rodney's engaged.

BOYCE: Call the Samaritans! Bridesmaids, bridesmaids, nownownow!

ALBERT: Olright san, it may never 'appen!

ROD: Cosmic, failed silly little exam. About as much prospects as the Clive Sinclair Spectrum! Two grand deposit on a flat? May as well get a time share tent!

AL: Noh as good as Wendy 'ouse gag!

DEL: Alright? Anyone wanna buy an executive mobile telephone? It's all to do with, ahem - (assumes poise, looks to camera as entire cast stop and turn) - the sTatellites, or samfink!

CAST AND AUDIENCE (applauding): YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!

DAVID JASON bows and is given flowers by The Queen.

DEL: By the way Rodney, got letterheads dan. Y'got your FT, BA, GLectric(ha!)C, BS... we got DIC! Stands for Director of Compooters!

ROD: DICK & TIT!

DEL: 'ere, Michool, buy one of me mobiles! They say every house will have 'em one day! Aerial oop aaaand....

BOYCIE: Wad 'appened? We was watching racing, naw the old Channel 4 logo appears, as it 'appens!

INT.FLAT.LATER ON!

ALBIE: 'ere, if them dodgy vids ran on con'inental carrant, 'ow, cam, 'ow cam?

DEL: I'll just pop to Calais for a backetfull, shall I, unc? That fucking stupid chinky kid from Desmond Tutu Flats!

ALBERT: Heh heh, sam soppy Chinese kid!

ROD: I failed me exams. Saddenly continental currants became continental measurements, and I ain't fallen so short of Venus in all me life! You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows!

DEL: Bumped into that Mr. Jamille 'as it 'appens, 'e said even though your theoretical rocket crashed in Dartford, 'ed give yah the diploma for a cappal a bance! There y'go! Plaz 'ere's two grand, bunce! Rev de cassie, as day say in da Doodogne!

There is a knock at the door. Ollie Ollie in comes CASSANDRA.

CASS: You poor old thing, you clever old thing!

ROD: Right, we're orf to see a dirty Italian porno!

ALBERT: Sabtitles!

DEL: 'oneymoons in Rimini!

The video explodes in a hail of BBC effects.

INT.NAGS.EVENSONG.

MIKE: Only a idiot would buy that phone - Trig ha!

DEL: Oi Buncie, vidyaz! Driscolls!

BUNCE: Potless, Del and that iz no lie! It's kipper season, and you can't get blood from a stone!

THE ALAN PARRY (growling, with a mean, damaged face and jacket over shoulders, like a gangster): I thought I might find you here you miserable little fucking toerag! Where's my money?

DEL: Alan! Here's that £2 I borrowed off you!

ALAN (softening): Cheers, Del, 'ope you didn't think I was the mean gangster, audience!

DEL: Your eye, your eye!

ALAN: I put a plaster on after a mobile accident after drinking too much tomato juice - I guess you could say I got 'plastered', ahahahahaha! By the way, Pam wants the wedding in a Country Pavilion with owl that Dom Perignon and caviar sarnies!

DEL: Nah, ain't paying!

ALAN: Nonono, you misunderstand me Mr. Del. I pay for my daughters wedding! We'll 'old it 'ere!

DEL: FUCKING TRIFFIC.

INT.NAGS.LATER IN THE EVE.

DEL: What's the matter with you two? Beaten by Driscolls?

MICKEY: Well it may look like a wanking accident but I actually had a misfortune while Rod Hull gave me a shot doing Emu!

JEVON: Got this dodgy Gregory sucking Mickey's cock, mind!

DEL: Well if I end up supporting a flyover on the M26, I can guarantee that you two will be in the next landfill, along wiv all the ET Atari games and lost Wicker Man footage!

DRUNK ALAN: Del... Del... oil SEEYAH!!

MIKE: Is 'e bad, this Driscolls?

BOYCIE: Seen Planet of the Apes? Good movie.

DEL: Yeah, I wanna slap Cliff Richards in his annoying fucking face!

TRIG: Speaking of Driscolls, theyz car is outside!

MIKE: Hide!

THE DRISCOLL BROTHERS enter via the back passage. One of them is Mike out of The Young Ones. One of the bouncers has a moustache. Looks a bit like someone else.

DANNY DRISCOLL: Here's a quid. How's Marlene?

TONY DRISCOLL: Eheeheheheh!

BOYCIE: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Large cognac, Mike... and QUICK!

INT.NAG'S FUCTION ROOM.COUPLA MINS LATER!

DANNY: Mike out of The Young Ones, stick a pool cue in me curtain, fetch me Del Boy from the back.

HE ALSO APPEARED IN AB FAB: Nah, let's not bother looking behind. Although I thought I heard an "Ooh!" from Del Boy - ball poke!

The curtain falls as Del gets an aerial up the hooter.

DANNY: Fuck off, Ebony & Ivory! Racial.

DEL: Yeah, you fuck off an all, Trig.

DANNY: 'ave a smoke, shaking Derek! You know, our dad fucking smashed 'is fucking skull to bits on a cell roof! I swore never to let that 'appen again!

TONY: Horseshit sandwich!

DEL: Nah, nah, don't believe thaaauggght... I just need more time - remember, when you was away for three manfs, 'oo woz it kept y'mum in Dom Perignon and bags o' coal?

DANNY: Okay, more time.

CHRISTOPHER RYAN: Hedgehog in Bottom, too.

BOYCIE: 'eres three bunce, Del!

INT.NAG'S.WEDDING EVE.

COMIC: There was this p**i woman, right...

DENZIL: I remember my marriage to My Corrine!

COMIC: 'ere, look at that proud, brave old war hero! Twat!

ALBERT: Me heads on upside dahn!

ROD: *hic!* Bestest big brovvar!

DEL: I forgot baht that two grands!

DEL leaves with the Driscolls. They have guns. And a shovel.

DENZ: Rodney, sometimes people say things and they don't mean it.

ROD: Heheheheh!!

INT.FLAT.THAT NIGHT.

ROD (trousers off, L sign on cock): DEL! I told C-Cassandra I 'ad the m-manny, look like a right tithead! And a left wan!

DEL (in barfroom, half dead): Oi, Rodney, all wankie hankies on dah floor in 'ere! Shat app yoo tart, manny's on table!

ROD: Soz, Del. Right old knees app in your groin! Sing song, eh?

DEL: Yes, I'll do me best Robin Gibb, Rodz!

INT.REGISTRY OFFICE.DAY.

All are in attendance. Even the PERTWEE MULLET and OLD FLOGFACE KINDA LESLIE NIELSEN extras.

REGISTRAR: I do solemnly vow, by the dark lord himself, to murder Ye Rodney 'Charleston' - hah!

THE LADS: Hurhurhur!

REG: ...Rodney 'Charleston', ha, Trotter, by jingo, by jiminy! And you, Cassandra Louise Perry?

CASSANDRA LOUISE PERRIWINKLE: I do, indeed, sah!

[DEL REACTS EMOTIONALLY]

RINGWRAITH: The Ring... the Ring!

DEL: Lost it, nah, only kidding!

REG: I now pronounce you woman and plonker. Snog!

ROD & CASS get off. There are tongues and everyfing.

LADS: YOHHHHH!! Go on, Rodney, fuck her!

We fade to the next scene on a close-up of the murder contract.

Background music.

INT.NAG'S FUNCTION.LATER.

PAM: Call us when you get back from the Island of Dr. Moreau, daughter & plonkah!

ALAN: Off for pie & mash! Del's treat!

PAM: Disgusting! You've gorn back t'your old hooligan ways, with y'spoons of jelly, eels and whelks an' shit!

ALAN: I 'appen to like jellied eels! THANK YOO DEREK!

DEL: Off, bruv? Just wanted to say oim... oim really very disappointed in you!

ROD: Thanks, Del... chwoarr, we had sam right laughs, eh?

DEL: And a few liddle tears. Still, I jaz wish-

ROD: Stop, you'll 'ave me going!

DEL: I ain't 'going' bruv. Ooh, don't 'ug me, me bruises dahnt nah where I got 'em!

CASS: Bye Del, hugs!

JIM KERR: Actually, Del I think I better come clean aboot those bruises. I think it's better in the long run. You've got IBS. It's natures way of telling you not to mess with the Driscolls. Eat lots of fried foods, drink-

DEL: Yes, yes thank you Robbie.

JIM KERR: Simple Minds singer, not Robbie.

ROD & CASS leave for their dirty weekend. CASS avoids shaking hands with BOYCIE. It is a loaded moment.

DUKE: Go have a chat with Derek, Marlene. Woof.

MARLENE: Why'd you never marry, Del?

DEL: I'm gay. Charlton Athletic!

BOYCE: Come along Marlene, give Del some air! We don't want another Tyler! See you in the morning, Del!

MIKE: Gotta lock up, mate.

ALBERT wiggles his head wiv a smile as he leaves, mach to DEL's amusement. An emotional DEL picks up a wedding figure. The audience weeps as the music plays.

Background music.

INT.FLAT.FOO WEEKS LATER.

DEL (on phone): Plates of meat, Albert! Will join you for dominos at the legion later, you're too kind!

ENTER ROD.

ROD: I am cream crackered, mate. Bicycle clips! What's for tea?

DEL: I'll make y'sam breakdfast, son. But first, a word of advice in your shell-like, that should stand you in good stead should the years pass... YOU DON'T FUCKING LIVE HERE NO MORE RODNEY YOU DIV!

ROD (when it sinks in): Oh fucking ballsack she'll go freakin' loopy!

ROD hightails it.

DEL: What a fucking stupid cunt piss shit bastard plonker!

THE END...?

The closing theme music!

The O' Driscolls intimidate Brendan O' Shaughnessy, in an important deleted scene
that completely changed the whole warp and weft of the entire saga.



This behind-the-scenes still shows familiar regular background
extras Pertwee Mullet and Old Flogface Kinda Leslie Nielsen.

[DangledTeeth]

Shitless in Peckham

Int. The Del Boy Flat

Del: Bourbon Blemish! We're up shit river without a boat, Rodders.

Rod: Yeah, we need to owe Inland Revenue in order to get us out of the proverbial chod creek.

Del: Exactly! Let's write a film.

Rod: Idea good.

Del: Off you go, Rodders.

Rod: Erm... (Face lights up and points with conviction) A true-to-life drama.

Del: What's it about?

Rod: It's about this bloke at a typewriter, right, an' 'e's typing...

Del: Well 'e's hardly gonna be doing bankflips, is 'e.

Rod: Oh, give it rest with the comments, will ya.

Del: Heh-hah-hah, sorry Rodney. No, go on, you were telling me about your idea...

Rod: So this bloke is typing up an idea for 'is film with his brother, and they spend quite some time in thinkin' of an idea; they end up
discussing a film about a zoo animal that's escaped.

Del: Oh yeah, so what antributes or traipse 'as it got?

Rod stares incredulously at Del

Rod: Well its attributes and traits are: very large, doesn't like city environments and is a vegetarian.

Del: Thaaaat sounds like a triffic film. Who would we have as the lead roles?

Rod: Nicholas Lyndhurst and Jack Nicholson.

Del: LOVELY JUBBLY! Let's go dahn the Nag's Head, these Bollocky Breezers are 'orrible.

Int. Nag's Head

Trigger: When I sit here, I see red, yellow and green lights. (blinks in exaggerated way) dere it gaoes!

Del and Rodney frown at the view from the window

Del: They're called traffic lights, yooou silly plonker sausage!

Trigger: Oh. I thought it was a scintillating heron.

Del (mouths, to Rodney): A scintillating heron?! (Shakes his head) I heard you've invented a revolutionary gadgetmiknob, Trigger.

Trigger: You're right, Del. It's a scratcher - fer yer arrrrssse!

Del: Well, show us it then, Trig.

Trigger stands, rotates and undoes his belt

Del: Sean flamin' Connery! Not your shit-slit! Show us your fuckin' invention, Trig.

Trigger presents two chopsticks

Trigger: Utilising the finest of one-a nature's robust materials, this discreet device is solid and agile enough to withstand abrasion while scratching a fuzzy sensation above yer crack.

Rodney: How's it gonna work, Trig, if the sticks don't have a hinge in between?

Trigger: Fuckin' yeah! You've got a point, Evad. I've tried to be more intelligent in this episode, but it's already wearing thin.
Let's make this more realistic: I've invented two chopsticks for eating.

Rodney (Insouciantly): Oh yeah? Would be handy for picking up noodles.

Trigger: Noodles, Dave? No. Don't be stupid. They'll be used to eat soup.

Del and Rodney exchange incredulous expressions

Trigger: I'll put the patent in your name, Del (Approaches the bar)
 
Del: Yeah, thank you, Trig. (To Rodney) He's getting dafter each decade.

Rodney: Heh-heh, yeah.

Del: I mean, what's he wanna honour me name with embroidery, stitching and all that lark for? Ha ha.

Rodney: Eh?

Del: Well 'e wants to get a pattern in my name, dunnee. Wha' a Mobo!

Rodney (Politely): Yeah... silly Trigger, eh.

Raquel: Marlene's not been around lately.

Cassandra: Probably murdered her.

Boycie enters

Boycie: Presenting Marlene version 2, with improved chesticles.

Marlene enters wearing a Georgian-era corset

Del: LOVELY JUBBLIES!

Rodney: COSTITS!

Trigger: LOOK AFTER YOUR BOOBS!

Albert's Ghost: JOOOOORIN DOH PHWOAR!

Raquel and Cassandra gaze over at the bar. Mawlllloine becomes suspicious

Marlene: Are they laughing at my tits?

Boycie: Don't care. Loveless marriage.

Marlene: Great to see you, Raquel. Lovely dress you're wearing. Which reminds me, Boycie, I must pop to the loo and drop a massive stinker and wipe my arse.

Raquel: That's not very nice.

Sid (Calling across): Raquel, you're barred!

Del: What the fuck are y'on about, Sid?

Sid: Oh, sorry, yes. Marlene get your enchanced dookdozzers out of the Nag's and escort the vampire in the process, you're barred for the night.

Boycie: We are staying put! Oi'm paying for all of this.

Sid: Very well. Drinks on Boycie, everyone.

Boycie: HAH-EGH-EGH-AGH-EGH-AGH-AGH-EGH... AGH (Realises) Oaah fuck!

Sid: Large cognacs, Nag's Head regulars?

Everyone: AND FUCKIN' QUICK!

Cuts to Rodney at the bar with Sid

Sid: Have a small photo of a Jolly Boys' Outing, Rodney.

Rodney: It's quite small. I'll have to blow this up... if Del wants to get rid of it by explosion. (Stares at the photo and his expression gradually changes into one of disbelief)

Int. Restaurant

Rodney: Look at this photo of a Jolly Boys' Outing, Cass

Cass: N'yaaaw, there's Del... Trigger.

Rodney: Keep lookin'.

Cass: And... (appears startled)

Rodney: Yeah.

Int. Del and Raquel's Bedroom

Del gazes at the photo

Del: It was TRRRRIGGOR'S ARNT-EEEE who got rid of the old photos.

Raquel: So that Rodney wouldn't see the similarity between you, him and your actual dad?

Del: Eh? Well, it was more the case of opposite, sweet'eart.

Raquel: So how is Albert your father?

Del: If you consult the Who's Who in Peckham 2000 section of The Bible of Peckham Vol. 2 (dog-earred copies available on ebay, Amazon and Waterstones Marketplace) you'll no'ice that Grandad - or Uncle Grandad as he ought to be called - was born in 1909, and Reginald Trotter was born in 1920. I mean, Grandad putting it about when 'e was 11 years old? Leavidaght! That's very unlikely even in this day an' age. So it's obvious Grandad Edward and Reg are not father and son, they're a coupla brother raver geezers.

Raquel: Oh.

Del: Well, Dadbert was in the Navy, couldn't look after me, and er... because I looked like my Uncle Reg I thought it'd be easier for 'im to be me dad. Then Albert came 'ome from leave and gave me mother one - before she died! And there we have Rodney. Then Albert left again for his naval duty. Of course, with Reg pissing off aht out it, me and Rodney were left without a dad. So TTRRRIGGUR'S ARN-EE shifted the photos of Albert so that Rodney wouldn't get inexplicably shitspicious in years to come.

Int. Restaurant

Cass: Do you think Del knows about Albert?

Rodney: No, he's a cunt. He wouldn't know.

Cass: Will you tell Del?

Rodney: No... it'll break his cunt heart.

Int. Trotters' Bedroom

Raquel: Gonna tell Rodney?

Del: Sigh... YEAH! Ha ha. I'm gonna wind 'im rrrroight ahp! Nah, nah, of course not.

Int. Barrister's Office

Barrister: Albert left you 155,000 quid - each!

Del (on phone): Raquel, we're quarter-of-a-milyunaires! Oh, Cassandra might have a miscarriage again? Right, we're on our way.

Int. Hospital

Rodney: Del, I hope this ain't another... y'know...

Del: No, it won't be a second miscarriage. (Rubs his stomach and raises an eyebrow) I've got a feeling it's another addition to Trotters' Towers.

Rodney: I don't wanna go in that lift again.

Del: Don't concern yerself, Rodders. Cassarsedra's gonna give birth successfully. Besides, the last time the lift 'broke down' it was all my own doing.

Rodney: Naaoh, I don't mean the Nelson Mandela 'ouse lifts. I mean (points behind him) that lift. Someone let off an almighty chuff in there

Del: Did they? (Has a put-on sheepish expression)

Rodney (Glares at Del): Yeah, I thought I could smell lamb balti and roast chicken crisps.

Del: Heh-hah-hah-hah. I'm a lad.

Cassandra: Baby's fine.

Ext. Joan Trotter's Grave

Rodney (To grave): Hello. I hope he loved you and his beard didn't irritate your face, and that he didn't bore you with his war tales.

Del: There you are running away from home at your age.

Rodney: A lot's been going through my moind, Del Boy. Yah. Tobaccah Rahd. The new baby. I've thought of a name for little Joan Trotter the Second.

Del: Yeah?

Rodney indicates the latest engraving

Del: Uncle Albert Slater Trotter?

Rodney: I thought I'd name her after our real father, and for a middle name I remembered when Slater said about naming Damien after him. And what with Damien's infancy causing O Fortuna to play on the stereo (or stock BBC music for the DVD cuts), I thought I'd get my revenge, in a way, for your horrific name selection.

Del: LOVELY JUBBLY!

Rodney: Del... was Frederick Borstal anything like me?

Del speaks firmly and reassuringly

Del: Froddy the Freg was a cheat, a wank scallop, a jaded cricket net, a bus conductor's fart, a poodle pincher, a marvellous coitus, a strained muffin basket, an ergophobic redundancy, a vet's pardon, a piddle whistle, a Japanese doilly, an unerring bumnugget, a yoga breakfast, a rainbow yawn, a fruit salad layabout, a Scotman's hairdryer, a pebbledash toilet, a quadroplegic Nazi, an insipid fundament, a jaunted slide, a taxidermist's cockslap, an elephant's teacosy, a haunted hoop, a mummified bollock, a shit-stained cock 'ammock, a whale's condom, a racist glockenspiel, a pennyfarthing cock-wash, a coconut shite, an ordinance survey tit-dodger, a fumbled scrotum, an automated wrist-fuck, a Macedonian's milk bottle, a gentrified raddish, a one-nil nipple sausage, a bigoted restaurant, an armpit massage, a granny's handbag, a glans consultant, a trout puddle, a helicopter's crossword, a thistle massage, an oxymoronic lunchbox, a usurped beach, a yearly weekend, a Darlington sandwich, a bootsale umbrella, a rat-infested grin, a tuneful breast, a stink sneeze, an admiral's bicycle, a one-legged snake, a salamander's piss-yoghurt, a seasoned noshwobble,
and a thundering jizzspanner. So no, Rodney, you're nothin' like 'im.

The van drives along a motorway and a District Line Tube shoots across a bridge

Del (Voiceover): one-'undred smackerooberlies and a new Trotter.

Rodney (Voiceover): Oi'll drink ta that, Del.

Del: Not right naow, I'm driving. Yooouuu 42-carat Moby cunt!

Del and Rodney: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Bland post-series 5 credits without the mistral font and the 'Job Lot' 'Going Cheap' clouds

[Glebe]

EPISODE: FORE! WATCH THE BIRDIE!

Opening theme.

ALBERT: I fink I'll just shove these important bills back aht the lehbox, so dat Del gets in trabble an' they camz rand and sees 'ooky gear an' arrest 'im I ain't too clever! 'ere, Rodney, p**i shop won't let uz 'ave naffink on tick!

ROD: Racist.

ENTER DRESSING GOWN DEL, who 'as clearly got the 'ump wiv a right-continuous Rod-stare and cocks his head like a right cockerney peacock sparrah.

ALBERT: p**i shop wun't leh uz 'ave no breakfust, san.

ROD: You fucking racist old cunt!

DEL: Nah, ain't 'angry, Gladstone. Cold out, unc?

UNC: It's a bit parky, Del.

DEL: Fick frost?

UNC: It is a bit slippery underfoot, Del Boy, I'd be careful if I was suntan lotion grrr.

DEL: Flecks snow?

UNC: 'Tis a bit sleety, grandnephew, flecks in the air.

DEL: SNOW-SLEETS?

UNC: Foo little sleety specks snowflakes sleetflakes.

DEL: Cold wind form dah Urals blowin' in?

UNC: I wuz in the war, Del, and I can tell you concisely that it is as cald as the Urals if not colder, guilt Rodney.

DEL (clearing throat): Rod's foresight, Fredrick Forsyth, Forsyte Saga, Brucie, all GCEs, GCSEs, A-levels, not woolly 'ats an' thermals, £5 billion squids worth a suntaaaan lotion!

ROD: Investment.

DEL: Ménage à trois!

AL: Not right now, Del. 'eadache.

DEL: Weathermaaan says worst winter on record in history gazillion years literal ice age, amber Solero?

ROD: Boiling hot summer on way!

DEL: Anoraks f'the sammah, moz probably!

ROD: No credit, Del! Gimme nah credit!

AL: Just like the Pa-sorry, racial. Knock sammink out, Del!

DEL: I would like to punch Rodney, my brovvah, unconscious! Deep fat fryer! Guvnor Mike!

ROD: Uncle Gladstone's bad luck! They torpedoed every peacetime pedalo 'e wuz on!

DEL: Oh leave it out, Rodney! You're like the Witchfinder General, you are! Ohh... *sigh* went dahn to the Tupperware™ cast-offs factory yesterday, to get a scroll-claw eagle f'Grandad's fake plastic 'eadstone! Cancel it - now!

ALBERT: Woz reading the expensive Sanday paypehs, which I can afford even though I'm being supported by you two, says toy boys all the rage! Noh me, toyboy, heh, funny, you Rodney, sell your body like some male hooker whore!

DEL: You've only been here four full weeks - a full fucking manf - anc, you ain't too clever wiv uz, unc. Rodney can't sell body!

EXT.NAG'S PUB.ICE AGE.

DEL: Be 'andy if wan ah them kegs fell in me vaaaan!

ALBERT: Oh hello Mike!

MIKE: Oh hello Granddad!

DAVID JASON: Shhh!! Reshoots!

ALBERT: Dodgy deep fat fryer! Scarper, lads!

INT.NAG'S 'EAD.ICE AGE 2.

DEL: Small rum, love. 'ere, you woz in The Bill!

ALBERT: Ah, lovely rum, keep aht the cold.

DEL: Choke on it. Now, Rod, potless.

ROD: Been finking... #1, we cross-cancel and eradicate the list of equation problems, eliminating thus capital gains. #2 Nothing to sell, nah manny t'buy!

DEL: I'm gunna fucking smack you wan an' knock yoo aht, vulnerable youngah brovvah! A Millwall fan could work it out - haaaaaaaaa!!

AL: You foo aht each adders froats.

THE BILL: And now, ladies & gents, sam music... all the way from Toronto Ontario, rock legend Neil Young!

NEIL YOUNG (singing): I caught you fallin' through my cellar door, I love you baby can I have some more... compensation from the... brewery!

ALBERT: That gives n'idea! Shall see you two later! Sammink will turn app!

DEL: These rings have seen more hock than a German!

ACTRESS NULA CONWELL: Del, quick! New Uncle character has fallen!

INT.CELLAR.ICE AGE CONTINENTAL DRIFT.

MIKE: Nah, me old neck's gorn!

DEL: Nevah mind y'rotten cockney Gregory! Uncle Alberts!

MIKE: 'e cam plammating, hit plank an' banced like a spring board diver!

ALBERT: Del, I'm a bit shaken, dazed an' jet lagged and shagged and fagged! Fancy 'aving an' open cellar door, cuh! Sue brewery, Del! Sue brewery! Hint!

ROD: 'es 'ad these four dazen bottles of Guinness an' iz 'ats still on!

AL: Dahn't play the Quincy wiv me, Rodney!

DEL: Take that hat off! He's 'earing the ringing sensations of the last bell's gorn! Phone the Solly-icitor!

ROD: More bent dan dah villains!

DEL: Did I 'ere you groanin' in pain, unc? Blood an' pain? WELL WHY NOT, THEN?!

DEL proceeds to smash ALBERT with a plank.

ALBERT: GENUINE GROAAAAANNNNN!!

INT.MANDELAFLAT.EVEN.

SOLLY ATWELL: Nah, no fractures nor nothing.

DEL: Look, Squinty Bizzo, 'e was nahn too clevah to start wiv!

SOLLY: My name's Solly Atwell, Del, not 'Squinty Bizzo'!

ROD: 'e looks like samone else. Samone form the 60's or sammink!

SOLLY: Nah marks, cracks, smacks, abrasions, scuffs, scabs nor bruise! Still, two fazand out court?

DEL: I want more money! I want more money!

SOLLY: Gentlemen, gentlemen, please! You ain't gonna get mach for 'is little blue hat, but from another angle look at the psychological damages! There was a guy in the big America that 'jay walked' and successfully sued the Los Angles council estate for 100 darn hamburgers! Ruined 'is sex life, it did!

DEL: That old garrity will fetch nary a shilling, sexually!

SOLLY: This old man, he played, four, he played knick knack across the seven seas defending 'is cantry... yet some giant multinational brewery denies him a pittance! 'es never out of that sofa!

DEL: Sit, Albert!

ALBERT: CHECK MATE.

ROD: Eh?

ALBERT: Sorry san, sat on an 'lectric chess game!

DEL: Alright, Bizzo, do dah bizzo! I dahn't want Mickey Mouse I want a pukka topper, all the extras!

SOLLY: My name's Solly, Del. Not 'Bizzo.' But the wheels are already in motion. Ten non-existent witnesses should do!

INT.CROWN COURT.DAY.

PERRY MASON: Now, Mr. Rodney, how did your Uncle fall down 'is 'ole, m'lud?

ROD: 'e sort of went like... co-ee!!

SLATER: Get out of that one, Perry!

JIM GARRISON: It's the Magic Bullet theory.

PERRY: No guards? No rails? No signs?

ROD (woodenly) : Yes, I do remember thinking, 'oh, none a dem things!' It were 'orrible!

PERRY: How right you were, Mr. Rodtrots!

JUDGE JOHN DEED: Next up!

DEL: I sawr it all, Your Magistrate! The after effects were terrible... they used to call 'im the [REDACTED BY BBC] of Peckham, owning to all the maratons 'e used tah do, not because of fiddlings or sleeping wiv corpses!

ALBERT: ALLEGEDLY.

MIKE: Ow, my neck!

DEL: Naow 'es like the Olympic Flame - 'e won't go out! Even after a dousing... he's afraid 'e'll fall dahn 'nother 'ole, see!

PERRY: So he like a jelly?

DEL: 'ow'd you fink it'd affect yoo, captain? Wan minute 'es jivin' to 'is Thin Lizzy LPs, the next 'is acroba'ics iz halted! 'e ast to asktd uz to fetch 'is shoes!

JUDGE REINHOLD: STAND DOWN, Mr. Trotter! I say, STAND DOWN!

DEL: I'm only just gettin' started, mate. *bows politely*

SOLLY (whispering): This good be a nice little earner caming app, Del!

JUDGE DREDD: No need to stand, perp! Drokk!

KAVANAGH QC: Do you swear, the whole truth, nothing but?

ALBERT: Yah.

KAVANAGH: You are Mr. Alberto Gallstone Bladders, Room 237, Nelson Mandela, Dockside?

ALBERT: I fink so. Amnesia, Del.

KAV: Yes, I realise this is distressing unc and I wish to help in whatever way I can... what are your recollections?

ALBERT: I woz on me way to the Kryp'on Factor...

[THE COURT REACTS]

ALBERT: ...then saddenly I woz fallin'. Me 'hole' life flashed before me eyes... the Battle of the Bulge, the sinking of the Belgrano, The Night They Raided Minsky's...

KAVAN: I see your have tons of ribbons... didn't they teach you to jump off of things behind enemy laundries without hurting yah bonce?

AL: Er, can't remember. Amnesia? Del? Roddy? Bizzo? Help.

KAVVY QC: Aren't you the same Uncle Albert who fell down the Horse & Coaches in Peckham for £100 in 1888? The Cross & Blackwell, Gravesend, 1066, for a shilling or bob? Thatcher's Inn, 1979? New Brunswick, Canada, 1867? Queen Vic, 1985? Taffy Lewis', 2019? Big Brother, 8 Sep 1981, 8:30PM, in front on 9.2 million witnesses?

DEL: It's a bloody nightmare, Rodney, a bloody nightmare! 'es bin dahn more 'oles than who the fuck is Tony Jacklin?

ROD: And might I cheekily add he's must probably bin dahn more 'oles dan John 'olmes, sorry.

ATTICUS FINCH: Oh, you go rights. And you got lefts, ups downs and sides! Now you gonna here this man's deposition, I say, you gonna hear this man's deposition, whether in the hell you like it or not!

EXT.CROWN JEWELS.ON A COLD AND FROSTING EVENING!

DEL: I do not believe it!

PASSING VICTOR MELDREW: I doon't belieeeeeve it!

DEL: I just do not believe that garrity old git! The only 'ole 'e 'asn't bin dahn is Disney™'s The Black Hole (© 1979)! What was it they dubbed the fucker?

RON: When y've finished pacing up and dahn comically wiv yah Castella™ and everyfing, Del, let me tell you that they named him The Fucking Ferret!

DEL: THE Fucking Ferret! There's been 150,000 known previous lawsuits, plus a cappla fazand back'anders!

WHEEL: Squeak!

ALBERT: The furst times woz genuine Del Boy, 'onest... then I thought *wink* 'allo, allo, this is 'andy! Whenever me an' y'Granddad were 'ard up for a bit a cash, we'd go throw ouselves dahn a pub cellar! Only 'ere to 'elp!

ROD: Only tryna' 'elp aht? Squinty Bizzo - heh! - and The Brief are to be defrocked and spanked in pablic on the morrow, I'm in contempt and David Jason could get the sack from the show!

ALBERT: Sniff... you two been gud ta me since I joined the series... I wan'ed to repay yah... and get sam manny feh y'Granddad's cheap shonky fake plastic 'eadstone!

DEL: You threw y'self dahn a cellar for Granddad's 'eadstone?

ALBERT: I'm 'is yangah brovvah character! Never did nuffink for 'im... 'til nah!

DEL: Yeah, dah'nt warry Uncle Ironside, let's get yoo 'ome!

ALBERT: Turned out noice, innit boys? Cappul a flecks a snow!

DEL: Yeah, we'll try and knock aht samma dah santan lotion! Softened in tone, me! 'ERE WAIT - WHY WE PUSHIN' YAH?

ROD: Oh, amnesia now, is it?

DEL: Now dahn't give me none ah that 'blackout' nonsense wiv me unc coz it won't wash heh!

THE END!

Closing themes tunes!

Solly of the bar! Phil Daniels essayed the role of the actor who played
Solly 'Bizzo' Atwell. Ironically, Daniels would later go on to play
Uncle Granddad Trotter on John Sullivan's Rock 'n' Roll! prequel!

ADDITIONAL TRIVIA: This was the first debut appearance of Uncle in this episode!

[DangledTeeth]

Quote Free Your Both Sides of The Brain Unquote

Int. Trotters' Flat

Raquel: Telephone call... I'm so sorry.

Rodney (Apprehensive): Oh, noooo. Not a miscarriage. Suddenly, Duke Nukem 3D spawned a couple of third-person sequels, then the ironically titled Forever took fifteen years to be released... (upset tone) andoiv nevur been so disappoin'ed with a long-awaited, misogynistic game that wasn't released in the lad-mag era in awll moi life. (Screws his face up and makes his body shiver)

Raquel: Naoh, naAaAaOooOoOoOH! You flamin' plonker Jubbly. Cassandra ain't even pregnant. Yah. Doowin da wars. ROO-MUZ!

Del: Then 'oo is it?

Raquel: Eugene McCarthief. He's heard Tony got the hal' penny arf a crahn thrupenny bits.

Del: Please, elucidate. One cannot understand your cockney argot.

Raquel: THE SHITS! Taahny 'as gort the shitsssss!

Del: Gaw blimey, bruvnor. I'm wiv yers naow. Then 'oo we gonna get to replace the sub-par Tom Jones lookalike cunt?

Doorbell: DUR-DAH-DUR-DUR-DUR-DUR-DAAAAAH-DURDUR IT'S A NA-TIO-NAL AH-UHNTHEMMHMHMHMHMHHMHMM!

Del answers the doorbell, I mean door

Del: Gorrrrdonnnnn Bennett!

Man: No, I'm Pete Bennett, a contestant of Big Brother about 9 years of the past before the present. WWWWANKERS! (Curls his hand and hits wrist into his chest)

Del: Sorry mate, you can't be a last-minute replacement. The whole Tourettes thing was done in a previous MoF scriptisode.

Pete: Very well. I shall go back to Brighton, if I still live there. (Exits)

Del: Oh, exclamation! Who's gonna replace the hilariously terrible Tony Angel Delighto?

Rodney (Pats Del): You never know your luck, Del Boy. You never know your luck.

Del: DASSIIIIIT! I'll do all the singing and what 'ave yer kebabras. (Mesmerised expression, steps forward with gusto) I'll become (Sweeps hand in an arch) Del tha fuckin' 'omosapien

Albert: oo's Del da fackin' omeopathy?

Del: Don't shut up, Albert! That's a good question. 'e's the cousin of that rap chap, erm, Nice Cubes. Mainly famous for going 'somebody let me outta mah caaage' in the first single, Cunt Eastwoof, by Damon Allbran's car'oon group - who've yet to release it in ten years' time.

Rodney: Off you go, Del.

Del tha fuckin' 'omosapien: Life is a blast when you know what you're doin. Best to know what you're doin 'fore your life get ruined. Life is a thrill when your skill is developed. If you ain't a skilled market tradesman, then shut the hell up, yoouuu fu'ing plonkaaah Connery cunt!

Rodney: No. That doesn't seem to work.

Del: Well, neither do the poor gits dahn the dole office, but they don't come round to eat me egg and chips.

Rodney: What about... FunkaDelips?

Del: I like the sahnda thaa-aat, Rodbey. Ahem. FUNKY 5 PAHND NO-OOOOTE! FUNKY 5 PAH-AAHND NOTE! erm... WE PICKED AHP A BAG OF FISH AN' CHIIIIPPPSSS, AN' TOOK IT BACK TO THIS PLACE CALLED NELSON MANdela... house. (Winces and shakes his head)

Rodney: Very crapshit, Del.

Del: Oh! Then who can replace Rhotacism Tony?

Albert (Singing, OOV): The wind is snowing. The blow is ba-lowing!

Del (Calling): Albeeerrrrt!

Alberts enters from the kitchen

Albert: Yes, Sahn? 

Del: You're gonna do a bit of piana playing and singing. I don't care for the nuances of such music, so I'll believe you're fuckin' mustard
on the old tuneful molars.

Int. Starlite Rooms. Night

Eric: Good evening, ladies and gentleman. And thank you for selecting the Starlite Rooms for tonight's entertainment. The next act we have this evening is local, and has embarked on a sell-out tour earlier this year with the Glenn Miller Orchestra, Camel and Yaz. Please give a warm and rapturous round of applause for Mr Bungle Albert

A curtain is raised to reveal Uncle Albert wearing a flowery shirt, seated at a piano with a microphone attached

Bungle Albert (Singing): ALL BE'OLD THE SPECTACLEEE... A FLESHY LIMBLESS RECTANGAWWWLLL... SHITTIN' WATCHING BOOTLEG PORN... NAVAL ANDY'S GAPING 'OLE. SNIFFED THE COMMANDERS 'AIRY BALLS... 'E DRINKS A CONCOCTION THAT'S VERY TALL... 'E'S A TOSSER TRAVELLING'... 'IS NAPPY MELTS INTO CREASE. UP YER SHIRT!

Del and Rodney appeared startled

Bungle Albert: INSOIDE OF MEEEEE TODAAAAY, THERE IS NO WAAAAN. ONLY FOOLS AND AST'ROIDS - A WASTE. They're lookin' through their windows at me. GET ME AHT OF THIS AIR'CONDISHUNED NOIGHTMARE, SHIPMATE! (Speaks into tannoy) Rots your brain just like a catchy tune, hueh-her-uhyurp-herrh. You will hate life more than life hates you. Happiness is your illness in an air-canditioned
noightmaaaaaaaare

The audience have blank expressions

Bungle Albert: WAL'ING ON AIIIIRRRRR AHP FROM THE WHEEELCHAAAIIR OI'LL FIND THE SUICIIIIDE THAT I DESERVE. JOORIN DOH WOR I WAS WALKIN' ON SAND, FORGOTTEN WHERE I AAAAM. BAAHT IT'S SAOOOH CAMFTABLE 'ERE IN THA SAAARN, SAHN! IIIIII GORT AAHP TO SAHM ROIGHT CAAAAPERS. I SAAAANK A FAH-IN' SAAHBMARIIIIIIINE. (High-pitched) TURDS AND YELLA CANARIES. DICTIONARIES. ATOP THE ROLLIN' 'ILLS OF PECKHAAAAM!

Rodney turns stoically to an open-mouthed, perplexed Del

Bungle Albert: THESE WORDS ARE SLEDG'AMMERS OF TROOOOOF THAT PAHND THE IRON FART OF SHIIIIIIT. BLADDY SMOILING. DRIVIN' THE VAN IS TIRING. OI'VE WET MESELF. WHAR'S MOI STRONGBAAOOOOW? WHERE'S MOI FAAACKIN' RUUUUUM? THERE'S MY... Hello Mike, 'ow's that deep-fat fryer Del sold ya? HOH-HERRRP-MUHERP-HOR!

Albert runs his fingers across the piano and turns on the stool to bow at the audience. Sections of the audience applaud politely until the entire room gradually claps together

Del: See yer fuckin' la'er, Rodders.

Int. Trotters' Flat

Phone: Incessant electronic sound

Del (On phone): Hello, Trotter's Independence Trainers.

Rodney: OI SWEEP UP AN MAKE THE TOIEA!

Del (On phone): Oh, hello Eugene... s-so what did yer mum think of it? Yeah... blank expression, didn't laugh once. But she wants to book Albert again for the week? Yeah, see you tomorra... bonjour. (Replaces receiver, to Albert) 'is mum 'ated ya! Wants you to perform again for the week. Stick with me, Unc. I'll make you go on Stroike it Rich.

Albert: Not 'allllf, Del Boyard. Not fackin' 'alf, sahn!

Sullivan: Lyndhurst-sounding babble about black market trading.

[Quincey]

The Trotter's flat. Rodeny sits in an armchair.

RODNEY: Ooh, blimey! My magazines all about philosophy have arrived! I'll just put them next to Del's jazz mags!

DEL enters wearing a horrible t-shirt and dubious chinos.

DEL: Alright bruv? Lovely jubbely! Hah-hah-hah! Pass me my jazz mags, Rodders! I'm off to flog them dahn the Nag's Head!

RODNEY PASSES DEL THE PHILOSOPHY MAGS.

WE SEE TRIGGER AND BOYCIE PERVING OVER ARTICLES ABOUT KANT.

BOYCIE: Blimey! I wish Marlene was this philosophical.

[Glebe]

EPISODE: THE GREATER GOOD!

Opener.

EXT.QUEER STREET.DAY.

DEL: Gawan 'avah look in dah rear view!

RON: Don't like camul 'air!

DEL: Genuine polyesterie, that iz!

ROD: Too big! Too big!

DEL: It's dah fashion!

ROD: Owright, sorry Del, lav it!

DEL: That'll be twenny nicker, brov! Cost a 180 dahn Bond Street! Naow, pop dahn Mrs. Singh an' see if she wants some frillies!

ROD: Old Mrs. Singh won't want no peekaboo nighties!

DEL: Wot, you some kinda shawarma? You dan't knaw wot gaz on under dem saris!

EXT.IRENE'S HOUSE.DAY.

IRENE: Mrs. Singh, SHE DAHN LIVE 'ERE NO MOAH, BROV. She move back to Bangladesh. Delhi belly!

ROD: Got some shorty nighties if you're interested.

IRENE: Bettah cam in, den.

ROD: Phwoarr! I'm well in with this hard-faced cougar!

INT.IRENE'S HOUSE.DAY.

Rodney drinks his drink and looks 'appy wiv himself. Then he spots IRENE's wedding photo.

ROD: I didn't know you was married to Georgio Morodor!

IRENE: What yoo fink?

ROD: Chwoar, well post 70's/early 80's 'emline! Must be a bit gutty rand 'ere!

IRENE: Used tah go jivin'!

ROD: I'm taking you out to dinner in Streatham.

IRENE: Thank you very much, I accept, kind young sir! Wot name? Dahn't wonna call yoo 'Thingy' orl naight!

ROD: Nah, that'd be a bit like calling me coooooooooock. Rod, meet Irene! Fank u very much!

IRENE: Don't mind that oim older?

ROD: Nah, I even went out with a Chinese wance!

IRENE: Racist.

INT.FLAT.NIGHT.

DEL is moppin' iz egg wiv bread.

ROD (on phone): Hehe, lav you! Bye!

DEL: 'oos that, then?

ROD: Mickey Pearce.

DEL: I don't wanna know! Never been no fanny business in vis, fambily! I'd rather die of ignorance!

ROD: Owright, then, twoz a bird.

DEL: Ooh, lolloping Rodney's goh a mystery!

ROD: Promise not to larf? I fink I'm in lav!

DEL: AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

BOYCIE: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

ROD: She is old.

DEL: Ruddy 'ell! While she woz havin' a frothy cappuccino dahn the Lyceum, yoo woz guzzlin' yah gripe water!

GRANDDAD: Even I'd 'ave to think twice!

ROD: Problum iz, 'er 'usband is jast aht of Slade prison. Tommy Mackay's iz name. Scot cousin iz a warder there!

DEL: Fannaly enaff, we 'ave an old codger relative in Slade - looks jast like me dahn up old!

ROD: Well oim not gunna live in fear!

DEL: Kneecaps! Wot you fink, this is Jackanory? Listen Popeye, steer clear!

INT.NAG'S 'EAD.MORN.

DEL: Tia Maria feh me, pineapple feh Rodney, lav.

BARMAID: 'es on the scotches!

DEL: Knocked out a few Georgian digitals earlier, heh! Glum?

ROD: Irene ain't 'appy.

DEL: Bus pass cow? Cam off it, san, y've 'ad y'ampty dampty!

ROD: You pig. You fucking pig.

DEL: Que Sera Sera, as the Doris Day sang. Still, least you ain't wan a dem morons from outer space over there, stupid 80's punks!

MARCUS: Alright, Del!

DEL: Alright, hedgehog hair! Nice coat!

ROD: Irene's san. 'ow'd 'e know?

DEL: Took her for a drink, spoke a few home trooves.

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

RODNEY flumps out.

DEK: Cuh, typical-

BARMAID: Tut! (flees off with a flourish)

EXT.AHMED'S 'OUSE.NIGHT.

AHMED: Too big, man! Stop holding at back!

DEL: All the rage, Ahmed my san! On tick.

EXT.ALLEY.NIGHT.

DEL: Whistle!

DEREK GRIFFITHS: C'mere you!

TOMMY MACKAY: You Rodney Trotter?

DEL: 'ere, you ain't nuffink like in the phat'graph! Continuity error!

TOMMY: Yeah, look like someone off Minder or something!

DEL: Haha, me Rodney?

DEL looks to the heavens then shuts his eyes tight. He knows that what he is about to do is going to be a tough call.

DEL: No, I'm never Rodney for goodness' sakes! You'll find him at the roller disco with sam yang bird!

INT.NAG'S HEADLEY.NIGHTLY.

DEL: Navver pina coladar, lav.

RODNEY enters, bloody and gashed, to the surprize of several Fawlty Towers' extras. He mops the blood with a handkerchief and clearly has cotton wool in his maff.

ROD: Del... look wot 'e dahn to me.

DEL: Walk into a revolving door in Mankey 'arris' Wendy 'ouse bungalow, Rod?

ROD: Del, I think I need to have my head checked.

DEL: Ain't that the toof, bruv! Oh yeah, meet Zoe, roller blade girl wiv the body of Bo Derek after surgery!

ROD: Del. Help.

DEL: Hehe, there's a box of chocs in dah vaaaan, only 'ad wan out of it. Go on, whip it, whip rand 'er. And all because the lady lavz... Black Magic!

RODNEY lollops out.

BARMAID: So you managed to avoid a right hiding, Del?

DEL: Yeah... but RODNEY woz on dah wong end of a RIGHT 'AMMERING!

EVERYONE: HAHAHAHAHAHA!!

DEL: Drinks are on the Wendy 'ouse!

EVERYONE: HURRAH!!

EXT.NAG.NIGHT.

[RODNEY COLLAPSES AND EXPIRES FROM HIS WOUNDS.]

THE END.

Closer.

Del secretly videotaped Rodney's hidings, releasing them as a dodgy video dahn the market!



This deleted snatch shows Irene being comforted by the locals dahn the Nag's 'ead.

[DangledTeeth]

The Loooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngest Night

Int. Supermarket

Del, Rodney and Albert pay for their shopping and attempt to exit. Then a middle-aged head security guard steps forward in their path

Tom: HAHLOH DORUFEEEEEE! Would you like to accompany me, gen'lemen, to the manager's office.

Del: Eh?!

Del and Albert appear mystified, Rodney has the tip of his tongue resting against his lower lip and nods at a poster

Del: Oh leeeavidaht, Rodney. You don't get whisked upstairs for a buy-one-get-one-free offer on baked fuckin' beans, do yer?

Rodney: Naoh, you cosmic cunt. The £1,000 for the milyunth customer poster.

Del: Ooooooh. (To Tom) Yeah, lead on McFuck.

Int. Manager's Office

Mr Peterson: Trouble, Tom?

Tom: Caught this trio of dick'eads 'alf-inching some food goods. They came quitely, usually a sign of politeness... AND GUILT!

Del: Of course we came quietly; we thought we wan the manny for the milyunth customer.

Tom: Well you didn't, sir. I mean, as if we monitor how many people saunter in 'ere, heh-heh. And we don't believe that he or she would go on a spending spree in this mundane supermarket if we furnished 'em with a grand. (Derisive snort)

Mr Peterson: Thank you, Tom. I'll deal with this.

Del: We've nicked naffink! But we stole a receipt to prove it. Show 'em, Rodney.

Rodney: Oi ain't gollit.

Albert: Dan't look at me, sahn. Oi've not got it either.

Int. Supermarket Aisles. Evening

A young black man expertly steers a golf cart around and scoops tins of corned beef into his jacket

Lennox: 18-inch cahlar television set - dan't moind if I do. (Lennox bundles the telly into a gym bag that's placed at the end of the cart, he pats it gently)

Cut to a disinterested till operator

Female Till Jockey: Tom!

Tom: Darn't warry, Sheilafeeeee. I've seen 'im.

Lennox pulls up at a till

Lennox: Put this loada wank on my six-six-six bet accahnt. You take care naah.

Tom: Come with me, sunshine. You're fuckin' nicked.

Lennox: MEMORY BLANKS! Shiiiit! I forgot what it was I forget I bought. I can't even remember that I've got two pairs of shoes. I've got
odd ones on, look!

Int. Manager's Office

Tom: Caught another thieving arsebag...

Lennox pulls out a gun

Lennox: Open up the safe!

Mr Peterson: I'm afraid I can't.

Tom: Don't be a bell-end, sir. Open up the safe for the nice man.

Mr Peterson: It's on a time-lock. It activates at 6pm and resets at 8am.

Tom: You're too late, son. You should have been here before 6pm.

Lennox: But it's abaht 20 past 5!

Albert: No. It's quar'er past 6.

Lennox (glares at watch): Bloody Del Boy watch!

Rodney taps Del, Del gnashes away on a suspended invisible carrot

Del: Now we've gotta stay 'ere until 8am. Chateau de Chite, as they say in Paris.

Lennox: That means we're 'ere for 15 hours.

Tom: 14!

Lennox (frowns at watch): Fuckin' Del Boy watch!

Del (To Rodney): I was gonna try an' shag that crumpet at the photographers.

Lennox (To Mr Peterson): Ain't I seen you somewhere before?

Mr Peterson: You most certainly have not. Not that I can remember seeing you.

Lennox: Oh yeah. Sorry. You just remind me of Basil Fawlty with the voice of Gyles Brandreth but deeper. 'ang abaht. That's sammink I no'iced. Why do Only Fools and Horses...

Del, Rodney and Albert: LALA-LAAAAAA-LA!

Lennox: Oi! (Points the gun at the Trotters and gestures for the to sit) As I was saying... why are there bit-part actors with posh, received pranarnciation voices in this series?

Albert: Apart from that vet in Sleeping Dogs Lie. (Does assertive head nod)

Lennox: Oh yeh! I knew there was sammink. (To Del) I'm a real 'ardnut. The police have a song for me: they seek 'im 'ere, they seek 'im there. Those fuckin' rozzers seek 'im everywhere. Is 'e in prison, or is 'e in 'ell. That damned elusive MAH-UH-SIVE.

Del: Oh, very good.

Lennox: Do you remember the Scarlet Pimpernel?

Rodney: What? That weren't you, was it?

Lennox: Don't be silly, you white shite. I'm like him.

Del: A fictional late-eighteenth-century character who steals from a supermarket. I bet 'ank Marvin's 'ad a few wanks. Ha ha

Lennox: Ha ha. (Reacts) I recognise you from somewhere.

Del: No, I don't go outside, do I, Rodney?

Rodney: Well of course you do, otherwise you wouldn't be 'ere.

Advance in the scene. the lights have been turned on

Albert: Oi've got a plan, sahn. (To Lennox) Can I stretch me legs, sahn?

Lennox: No!

Albert: Oh alroight, then.

Early morning, Lennox is asleep at the desk

Del: Oh, look, the Massive is fast asleep.

Tom: When you're trained in the army you can go without sleep

Albert: I served in the navy.

Tom: You must have some interesting stories.

Albert: I rarely talk about it... I was station in India.

Spoiler alert

Racism

[close]

fish! Dan't talk to me about

Spoiler alert

Racism

[close]

fish - I've seen 'em (stretches arms out) that long, shipmate.

Del (nods with a smile, to Tom): 'e thought Ravi Shankur was a sticklebrick.

Lennox is asleep across the desk. Rodney tip-toes to the desk

Del (whispering): Rodney!

Mr Peterson (whispering): There's only half an' hour to go.

Rodney sneakily pinches the gun and aims it at Lennox

Rodney: Fags! Now!

Lennox: Alright, alright, there's no need to be a hypocrite.

Rodney exchanges the gun for the cigarettes and pulls a victorious grin

Del: Youuuuu per-loh-on-ner-kaaagh!

Lennox: I remember who you are naah. No, don't tell me. (Clicks fingers) Bertram! No, Algernon. Er... Del Trotter. Don't you re'ognise me? It's Lennox Gilbey. You used to sell stuff to me mum.

Del: Oh yeaaaah. And you're not (smoothly does a combing action through imaginary hair) little LLLLennox Gilbey!? I remember your mum, a prahd church an' all thaa-aat.

Lennox: She knows nothin' about this. I'm on the dole.

Del: Doesn't give you any right to brandish a toy gun and point it at people.

Lennox: But I've got no future!

Del: Nor has Rodney. (Rodney, with arms folded, looks at Del)

Lennox: I've got a GCE in Maths and Art.

Del:  So has Rodney. (Rodney, with arms folded, looks at Del again)

Lennox: But I'm black, therefore I could get discriminated over my skin colour thus never getting a job. (Rodney, with arms folded, looks at Del)

Del: So is Roh- it's a tough world, Lennox.

Lennox: In 20 minutes, I'm gonna be rich.

Del: By tomorrow night you're gonna get bummed by Mr Chisel after his slippery soap goes walkies. Give it all up. I'll speak for you in court.

Lennox (Frustrated, to Mr Peterson): You said it would be easy.

Del: I bet Lionel Blair and the Commodores 'ave 'ad a few tugs.

Mr Peterson (To Lennox): Quiet, you taaaart!

Lennox: I've been set up for this, Del.

Rondney: Yaoouu?! Yaoou and Lennerx?! Ram Jam Tory's balls.

Lennox: 'e said I'd walk out of 'ere.

Mr Peterson: And you would if you hadn't been wearing a fuckin' Del Boy watch.

Del (With camp sibilance): Oh thissss hasss been worryin' me all night, thissss hasss. 'ow did Lennoxxxx know sssso much about thissss placccce? And know 'ow much money issss in there. (Indicates gun) Taiwan Lex Luger.

Mr Peterson: I didn't do it for the money.

Albert: What'd you do it for? Sticking an up yours to the powers-that-be an' wha' 'ave ya?

Mr Peterson: Well alright, I did do it for the money. You see, my wife has an expensive habit - 5 pounds for a marble tile; 80-thousand for a swimming pool gazebo. God, it's giving me a semi!

Del (indicating Mr Peterson's hard-on): Dickhead of Koala Lumpur is engorged. 

Lennox: I met Mr Peterson when I was in court. I was the victim, Del. Honest.

Albert: What'd you bring us up 'ere for?

Tom: Well it'd look suspicious if the Great Supermarket Robbery occurred with no witnesses.

Mr Peterson: Tom - with his police experience - helped to make the robbery look genuine.

Tom: Yes, and I did it for the money. Shit pension. I'd be getting as much as Kirk Douglas' undertaker.

Del: So we've spent fffffourteen cuntin' hours just to be provide you with an allegory.

Rodney: Alibi.

Del: This is not the right moment to suggest bedtime music, Rodney.

Lennox: What are you gonna do?

Del: I'm gonna phone the police. (The robbery trio cautiously huddle around the phone) Nah, I'm only winding you ahp. You are a
cunt, Lennox!

Lennox: Sorry, Del.

Del: Alright no reaaaal 'arm's been done. I'm gonna get you a job, Lennox. I'm well in with the guvnor.

Lennox: Yeah?

Del: When do you retire, Tom?

Tom: Wha', 'im work 'ere?

Albert: Can you think of any better? He'll know exactly who to keep his eyes on: balding, middle-aged white men; streetwise young black blokes and John Bardon.

Mr Peterson: Welcome to the firm, Lennox.

Tom: I'll get your uniform and show ya yer duties.

Del: (Taps the opening to Night on Bald Mountain, on the desk, using a hard baguette) 'ere you go, lennox, shove this ahp yer crack. (To Mr Peterson) I'm gonna pop back here this af'noon, 'cause Oi've gat a farny feelin' Oi'm ganna be your milyuntih cust'mer. What say you?

Mr Peterson: I hehve exactleh the sehme feeling!

Del: Ya know it makes sense. Bon-bastard-jour!

Sullivan: Half-price Dayvit Bohwoy Elpoyz


DVD extra:

Sneak preview of Del's Christmas 2015 speech

[Glebe]

EPISODE: GO WEST, THE BAND!

Opening!

INT.FLAT.MORN.

DEL: Ah footure lies in second-'and mo'ahs! Viz time next year wi'll be milliunaires!

ROD: I dreamt ah wuz drahnin'.

DEL: The Government bans imports, unions radicalise, strikes, won't buy new car f'love no lumpkin!

ROD: Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me.

DEL: You say y'dreamed you was drahnin'? Bed wetter! Stop weeping in your Weetabix an' gah an' phone Monica, she of the fat thighs!

ROD: Ain't got fatties! Ganna try a trial separation. Mickey lived wiv a woman, 'e dan it!

GRANDDAD: Give over Rodney; night, night orf? Sep'rations!

DEL: Y'got more chance of a blind date wiv a Samaritan!

AUDIENCE: GASP!

DEL: Oh come orf it you lot, early 80's political incorrectness rampant!

AUDIENCE: AHAHAHAHAHA!!

ROD: Dahn't warry Del, I WILL SURVIVE.

DEL: Ah gah an' live wiv Mickey Pearce - gay!

EXT.BOYCIE'S CAR LOT.MORN.

BOYCIE: Got this E-type a Jag for some digital Chesterfields, 'lectric toothbrushes, gross of 'obnobs on a part-chop on a Vanden Plas, whahevah daht means!

DEL: Good clean app, new tyres, new engine, new steering wheel, new chassis, new bodywork, new everyfink... gud as new!

BOYCIES: Phwoarr, nice little body... she's got 8 million miles on the clock an' no mistake!

DEL: Honesty, Boycie... it's a fucking pig! Fifty squids, cash or Readies, the original name of the show?

BOYCEE: Would an' all, cunt! Nah, E-types, Sebastian Coe.. only fings daht make me proud dah be Bri'ish these days! Need to hide if samwhere, birfday present for me bit on the side!

DEL: Last time Rodney had 'a bit on the side' woz 'is HP sauce! Mon dieu! Listen pal, oil save you a loh of aggro, you can hide it on the estate where it'll be fucking vandalized to bits! Jass sellus that Zephyr Mk2 feh fifty quids!

EXT.NELSON'S TOWERS.DAY.

HOT ROD cams screeching app in da banger, all smoke, and nearly 'as a brakes-accident!

DEL: Brakes a bit spongy?

ROD: Yes, made of sponge. Facking death trap!

EXT.'OOKEY STREET.DAY.

Sign on car window says 'For Sale £199,000 ONO'. Rodney cleans the hood then sits in the car and enjoys a cuppa! Suddenly things get springy!

JUMBO MILLS: Nah, y'shock absorbers gone! I'm talkin' about the cah not y'coffee, y'flammin' fucking pommie dingo!

ROD: JUMBO! Don't you remember me? I'm Del Boy's little brovvah, all snot and Marmite!

JAMBO: Eh? Nah, mate, bit overpriced, with 23 thousands on the clock etc.

DEL: JAMBO BLOODY MILLS, I DAHN'T BELIEVE IT! How you doing, mate?

JAMBO: Eh?

DEL: Jambo, it's me, Del! We used to run a fish stall together in the 60's! You should be back in Oz making your millions wiv your car-cleaning bizzo! Wot you doin' 'ere, all dirty and unshaven, looking for a banger?

JIMBO: I'm lookin' for a junky post-apocalyptic Mad Max banger ta bring back to Oz! This'll do the trick!

DEL: Les Brothers Lumière, as the French say! This wans been tested by the RAC, leather gazelle steering wheel...

JIMBOBS: It's a load of crap, you fucking cockney villain!

DEL: Cest la vie, san fairy Ann, je non regrets. We's brovvas across the ocean, convict! Optional extras include anti-dazzle, non-speed wiper, automated window (the window falls out).... er, MOT. One owner only, the vicar left 'is bible in dah glove box!

JIM: I'll 'ave it, possum!

DEL: Okee doke, Jambo! Sorry 'baht yoor amnesia! P'r'aps we'll meet again in a few years, EH?! Uncle Albert years.

INT.FLAT.EVE.

DEL (in bad Australian accent): Oi woz welkin' throo Earl's Court wan noight, into a pab I woz lu'red; where a nasy pom said "Where you from?" as I danned the ambar flooid... I said "Get it straight, oim an ozzie, mate, and I'm fixin' too get plah-stered... but the beer is crook and the Sheila's look like yoo yah pommie fucking cunt bahst'd!" Jambo thought me that! Forgetful prick!

GRANDDAD: Two bent fivers, cheers Del! I'll buy some odour eaters and steak an' kidney puddin' f'tea!

Rodney cam in dressed like a mod.

DEL: Ah, Peckham's conscience! Fancy dress?

ROD: I'm gunna light a fag and paint the town red! Gah up the West End and (singing) "rip it up and start agaaaaaain!"

DEL: Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side! Wont y'readies from the Jambo-sale?

ROD: Nah, immoral, death trap! Handfuls of silver, blood money! I will have nothing to do wiv instant motorway madness!

DEL: You stoodents iz born wiv a plastic spoons in y'marf! Wiv y'Steve Bilko - heh! - T-shirts an' shit.

ROD: I'm heading out wiv the evening class cats - Bob, Carol, Ted, Alice, Rita, Sue-

DEL: An' Bob too! Oh alright soppy, I'll cam too! Three-wheeler?

ROD: Nah, nah, y'very suave and debonair!

DEL: -Boyce-Jag! Easy on the jellied eels, Graaaanddaaaaad!!

INT.NIGHTCLUB.EVENING.

Background music.

DEL (putting head directly to watch): Carn't see a fing in 'ere! Strange Dumbo noh recognizin' ahz... checked it out on Wiki an IMDb, he definitely appeared in both episodes!

ROD: Moaning git! 'ere, Del, I'm intah uniforms! But yeah, actor Nick Stringer...

DEL: Pervo! Garçon! La petite pois!

NOT REALLY HENRY MCGEE (Benny Hill/Sugar Puffs):Parlez vous Fraçais?

DEL: Jawohl! Schnell! Achtung! I want a Caribbean Stallion!

NOT MCGEE (straight to camera): Wouldn't we all! I'm free! Cum up my end!

DEL: Roger Moore drank it in Live and Let Die, y'very suave an' debonair! I've got the palate of y'more discerning weirdo... tequila, Crème de Menf, Campari, the merest smell of agnostic bitters, A FULL COCONUT, topped of wiv a grapefruit, shattered glass, occasional seasonal limes, top THAAAGHT off wiv y'straws an' umbrellas an' shit - voilà, shaken, not stirred, mush!

ROD: 'alf a non-alcoholic lager top!

NON-MCGEE: I believe Reg Varney drank that in Holiday on the Buses - genuine On the Buses reference in OFAH, wow!

DEL: Cappla sorts at the bar! We can shav Granddad in the airing cupboard wiv a bottle of Slavic Riesling an' 'ave ourselves an' orgy!

DEL approaches the two at the bar, then comes back.

DEL: Drink app, Trig, we're leaving!

ROD: Nice one! Cappla ravers?

DEL: Nah, nah, leg it!

John Cleese and Marty Feldman in drag turn to face to ROD, trapped in the headlights. He legs it after DEL.

INT.DISCO.NIGHT.

Background music.

DEL: Gay bar, bruv's a pervo, cappla drag sorts! Wot next I askt yoo?

ROD: 'ere, Del, over there!

DEL: Ain't lookin', bruv! With my luck, 70's/80's female impersonators 'inge & Brackett!

ROD: Nah, look, sorts!

DEL: Cwoarr, that's more my style! Look, listen, learn, bruv!

They approach the two sorts, who have all the bits in the right places this time.

DEL: Whoops, dropped the keys to me E-type Janguar! I'm Del, this Rodney!

VICKI: I'm Vicki, this is Michelle! Together, our cells join to form 'Allo, 'Allo! star Vicki Michelle!

ROD: Do you come here often?

MICHELLE: Yes. Yes, we do, Rodballs.

DEL (looking annoyed): Yeah, yeah, see they call 'im 'Hot Rod', 'es a tennis pro,. oim his manager! We're just back from the Miami Open!

The girls laugh at this bullshit.

DEL: Nah, nah, straight app! He beat that Jimmy Connolly.

MICHELLE: You mean Jimmy Connors?

DEL: Nah, knocked that dildo out, first rand! Oh wait, tell I lie it was Brian Connolly! By the way, rewatch the episode, I really do say dildo!

VICKI: In town for long?

DEL (attempting to sexually assault VICKI. She's having none of it): No, sorry... er, just getting a cricket bat fitted for Hot Rod!

ROD: Del, do you think Jumbo will start wearin' a wig?

MICHELLE: Do you prefer grass or astroturf, Rodney?

ROD: Grass, love... (sly grin to camera) I ain't never smoked the astroturf!

DEL (deadly serious): I HAVE LIED TO YOU WE ARE ACTUALLY CONCORDE PILOTS.

INT/EXT.E-JAG.NIGHT.

ROD: Stuck gold, my san!

DEL: Yep, Klondike 'ere we cam! Hey boy have a cigar!

ROD: Chelsea pad!

DEL: 'ope it's a pent'ouse, balconies, rabbah plants! Nambers on cigar pack!

ROD: Fuck, threw it aht mile 'alf back, a split second ago!

DEL: Pranny!

DEL brakes. Another car slams into their rear.

DEL: Nah look wot you dahn, you cant!

ROD: You woz drivin'!

DEL: Don't play those mind games wiv me, Rodney! (gets out of car to speak to driver) Blind, samming?

JUMBO: Sorry mate, dicky brakes! Sam Peckham cunt I've never met before sold me it!

DEL: JAMBO! We meet again! Still don't remembah me?

JUMBO: Come here, you flaming mullahs!

JUMBO MILLS gives chase, but runs out of breath and gives up. He takes out a prototype mobile phone.

JUMBO (on phone): Sydney office? Yeah, be back soon. Who wants to be a millionaire? I do?

Closing!

[DangledTeeth]

Pro'er Mah-ah ov Fah-kuh-tuh Only Fooz an Norses

A Slow Bus to Nowhere

Del: I'm goin' to use Rodney's Trotter Warden wage - a double-decker bus on loan - and start Trotters' Ethnic Tours

Grandad: No one will turn up.

Del: Why ever not, Grandfather?

Grandad: I chucked the fuckin' fliers dahn the chute, you pig-nosed cuntwafer!

Del: Pseudo-Francais!

Rodney Soundalike: Stick a Sony Walkman in me pocket. The theme music is sung by SulliVAN.

Mother Nature's Son

Uncle Albert: Are you going to use an existing brand of spring water as a sample from that dribbling hosepipe in our allotment patch?

Del: No. I better not. It is distinctly illegal and the authorities will catch on quickly. Let's grow some veg.

Uncle Albert: NODDARF! Hueh-hyur-uh-hoerh!

Dates

Int. Waterloo

Raquel: Hello?

Del: Listen darlin', your mate tried to offer me a fuck for 20. I'd 'ave it away if I were you - not like THAA-AAGHT!

Raquel: Mr Duvall?

Del: Oh, Raquel. To the Hilton. Close Encahntahs!

Int. Hilton

Del: I'm a market-trading, bare-faced liar who's pretending to be successful businessman.

Charles: Imaginary telephone call for you, sir.

Del: It's not real, Charles. Off you go.

Raquel: I'm an aspiring actress who's making ends meet through a strippagram agency.

Del (blasting whiskey from his mouth): DO WHAT?! Bloimay! Well why don't yer fuck off to The Jolly Boys' Ahting and avoid performing at my Great Uncle's birthdee and we'll pick it up from there at a seaside setting in 1989, you stu'id fuckin' caow!

Theme: Hookey Streeeeeeeeeeee'

[Glebe]

EPISODE: THE ROIN IN SPOIN FALLS MEANLY ON THE PLOIN!

Opener theme!

EXT.NAG'S 'EAD.RAINY DAY.

The little Reliant Robin looks sad and dejected as it is rained upon.

INT.NAG'S.DAY.

DEL: Fucking poxy weather. Wish I ran Pac-a-Mac!

ROD: Yeah, hidin' in cafs an' pabs last four days! Shepherd's delight, swallows fly backwards! Oh yeah, here, you goh a Father's Day card!

DEL: Wish we could find our farvah - actor Peter Woodthorpe, voice of Gollum in the animated The Lord of the Rings and Pigsy in Monkey; I WOULD LITERALLY SEND HIM A LETTER BOMB. 'ang on, Farvah's Day card?! I ain't married!

ROD: You dun 'ave to be married to be a farvoor.

DEL: Oi wait, I didn't knock up that bird, did I?

DEL opens the card. It says 'Happy Farter's Day Del you twat from Rodney!' or summit.

DEL (annoyed but smiling): Cor, you nearly gave me 'art a Connery, there!

ROD: Heh heh, just tryna liven an' spice it!

DEL falls towards the bar.

DEL: Oh, 'ello Alex, 'ows it going?

ALEX: Fine, Del. What yoo 'avin'?

DEL: Small bitter for Rodney, large Drambuie f'me!

ALEX: Cant. Actually, Del, things are fucking shit at the moment. Me travel agency has gorn down the carsie! World Cap, nah luck!

DEL: Oi, offer 80% next castamah, yoo'll be packin' da pantahs in! This time next year, you will be that millionaire, Alex!

ALEX: That's a fucking terrible idea Del, I'll get right on it.

DEL: Thrupence!

DEL reverts to ROD.

DEL: Fancy 'oliday?

ROD: 'e'll go bast!

DEL: I knaw, I knaw, told 'im told im! Nah get out there an' do dah bizzo with them shonky 'ats! Bit munzo foh yah Duty Free DVDs!

ROD: Facking raining, Del!

DEL: Yeah, but think of the old current ban on y'back! Remember me motto - 'e 'oo dares wins, just like that! (does Tommy Cooper hands)

EXT.'OOKEY QUEER STREET.DAY.

It's fackin' pissin' dahn!

ROD: Gercha fake dodgy Italian 'ats!

INT.NELSON'S APARTMENT.DAY.

ROD 'as iz feet in a basin.

ROD: Thanks to Del, I now literally have pneumonia.

DEL: We're orf to Benidorm! Viva Espana, blue seas, foreign sorts!

GRANDDAD: I ain't never been to Beindorm! Make a nice break for it!

ROD: Er, well, the thing is Granddad, you'll cramp our style!

DEL: Go an' make a paella in the kitchen, Granddad!

[EXIT GRANDFATHER]

ROD: I'll go and break it too him gently.

[EXIT RODNEY]

DEL (on phone): 'ere, Alex, make room fuh Granddaaaaad!!

[ENTER RODNEY]

ROD: Oh I ain't got 'eart, Del!

DEL: Yoor like the man at the top, you are, the man at C&A! Roofless, 'eartless! Course 'e can cam, soppy!

ROD: I sent word to Granddad that you love him dearly an' booked an extra!

DEL: Why yoo cheeky littul-

DEL stands in ROD's basin!

ROD: Oh watch Del there's a tab a watah ahaha heaurg!

EXT.LUTON AIRPORT.MORN.

The plane takes of then goes into a weird time conundrum.

ANIMATED PHOTO MONTAGE.

Montage music!

Jerkily animated, the plane lands at Devon airport, where a bloke from The Bill checks their passports. Then the boys take the coach to the Hotel las Plonkas, discovering that their room overlooks a rubbish tip. Then DEL (wearing giant, red flares) and RODNEY head down to the disco, where they do a strange sort of sit-down conga. They pick up a couple of sorts and head back to the room.

INT.HOTEL ROOM.NIGHT.

They suddenly emerge from the timeframe conundrum. Granddad is fast asleep!

GIRL #1: Ugh!

GIRL #2: His teef in the glass an' everyfing!

The GIRLS flee.

DEL: No, wait! We only want him to watch!

EXT.BOURNEMOUTH BEACH.NEXT DAY.

They all have red BBC make-up on now. A ball hits DEREK.

DEL: Fuck off yoo little cant! This is the life, eh Rodders?

ROD: Yes, it's fucking freezing here in Bournemouth! There you go, Del, cheapo English beer!

DEL: Yoo-hoo, Granddad!

GRANDDAD is paddling.

GRANDDAD: I'm gorn back to the 'otel to have a Fiesta ice cream and read Orwell's Homage to Catalonia!

ROD: What's wrong wiv 'im?

DEL: Might be that live squid he scoffed down larst night.

ROD: Food ain't app tah mach, I 'ad that foxtail soup, hur-hur!

DEL: 'ere, Rodney, accidentally rab sam beer in me back.

ROD does as told, and DEL Chases him across the grassy Bournemouth dunes.

EXT.DEVON HOTEL POOL AREA.DAY.

DEL spots a woman speak French to another woman.

DEL: Bonjourno!

JACKIE: Alright mate, l'hotel, por favor?

DEL: Ah... oui, oui. (to barman) 'ere, John, er, Juan, deuce de pinas, dank u vel!

JACKIE: Pardon, monsieur.

RAY: Alright, Jackie? Why don't you join me? JOIN MEEEEEE!!

JACKIE: Sorry Ray, stuck wiv that little French one!

RAY: Nah, don't mind 'im!

DEL approaches JACKIE with the drinks. RAY takes them off him.

RAY: Thank you, waiter! Wat yoo gurna doo? Kick sand in me face? Hur hur!

DEL bursts RAY's inflatable chair. He rolls into the swimming pool. AND DROWNS.

ROD: Del! Del! Granddad's been arrested and thrown into the hoosegow!

INT.DARTMOOR PRISON.EVEN.

JUAN: There you go peeps, innit?

DEL: 'ere, you look familiar!

JUAN: I was in Rentaghost apparently!

DEL: Quo vadis, senor!

[EXIT JUAN]

DEL (to GRAMPS): WHAD 'APPENED? I been ranning around loike a trancey tit!

GRANDDAD: Weren't my fault, Del, a police car screeched, next thing I know I'm doing Porridge!

ROD: We've been on to the British Ford Consul an' everyfing!

DEL: Anything else? Drunk an' disorderly? Panch a Kuwaiti? Oi, you didn't give a goose to da maid, 'ave yah?

GRANDAD: Oh no, Del Boy. Oh no. I HAVE BEEN OFFICIALLY BANNED FROM SPAIN AND ALL HER DOMINONS. Our story takes place during the Spanish Civil War. THE YEAR IS 1936. Me and me mate Nobby Clark - played by Kenneth 'Mike' MacDonald in It Ain't Half Hot Mum, nice in-joke, Sullivan! - went off to Tangier to join the Foreign Legion. We slid under a tarpaulin and sailed orf - oh, it were terrible! Us Trotters have NEVER MADE GOOD SAILORS.

ROD: What about your brother, Albert Gladstone?

EDWARD KITCHENER 'TED' TROTTER: Em...

DAVID JASON (improvising): Uh... heh, exactly, 'e woz dah wan wot never made a good sailors, hur!

GRANDDAD: Anyway, me an y'Nobs reached Tangier, but the Foreign Legion were terrible - such an 'orrible banch of cutthroats, murderers, the scam of the universe... they wouldn't 'ave us, hehheh! But by fate's quirk, we met Ahab the A-rab, who gave us a foo quid to smaggle some gans to Spain!

ROD: You dirty little mercenary, you!

GRANDDAD: Oi did it for political causes, Rodney! 'oomsoever paid the most! Franco gave us medals an' everfing!

DEL: Yes, Rodney, a conscience is one thing, but business is business. Please continue, Granddad.

GRAND: Anyway, on the 7th trip we got rumbled and was taken to a little prison outside Tarifa. They tortured His Nibs, 'is screams woz 'orrible...

DEL: Bet he didn't even 'ave iz Callard & Bowser to suck on!

GRANDDAD: Nobody will get the reference, Del... anyway, (the camera closes in on GRANDDAD) they promised uz cells fit for heroes, instead they gave us heroes fit for cells! Then it was my go!

DEL & ROD look concerned, perturbed, pensive.

ROD: What... they tortured yah?

GRAN: Naow, Rodney, but they woulda done - honest!- if, in a rather cowardly act, I didn't reveal the secret base of the rebels, single-handedly worsening the Civil War!

DEL: Anyfing else? Opium peddler? Plantation owner? Intergalactic bounty hunter?

GRANDDAD: All of 'em an' more, Del!

DEL: I doon't be-lieeeeve it! Y'most probably in the FBI's Top Ten, along wiv 'annibal Lector, Stavros the Jackal an' The Hunt for Red October!

ROD: It's the 'Black September'.

DEL: Gordon bleedin' Bennett, 'es into zodiacs nah! We've got to get the Red Hood aht of 'ere, they jast 'eld the World Cap 'ere, there's Manchurians an' Glaswegians everywhere! Granddad will turn into a tapas-eating gringo if he stays any longah!

ROD: Hello, Manuel's back!

[ENTER JUAN]

JUAN: Que? I know naaathing!

DEL: Well I didn't expect a sort of Spanish Inquisition!

MICHAEL PALIN: NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition!

DEL: Er, listen, Stavros, can yoo let Granddad out of this charming & bijou hacienda for an, em, little charitable donation?

DEL proceeds to shove drachmas, pesetas and Hungarian luncheon vouchers into Juan's pockets.

JUAN: YOU TAKE-A DEE PEAS?

DEL: Naw naw, au contraire, mon frere as the French say! Cor, you dahnt arf smell you stupid dago bastard!

JUAN: Okay, you can go, ole, arriba, nostrovia.

DEL: Er, hadn't you better clear it wiv BBC guvnor Ronnie Barker first?

JUAN: Was just how you say minor wiolation of Russian traffic laws! I have releeze papers from Kremlin here! Bad for Anglo-Russian relations if my accent found out!

DEL: Capple a years, you'll be a right Borstal Boy, you are! Muchos grassy arse, Granada Television!

ROD: Oi, don't think you're getting Gibraltar back, mate! Barbary apes!

DEL: Surprisingly right-wing for you, Rodders.

[EXIT JUAN]

DEL: YOO WAZ DONE FOR JAY-WALKING Y'DOZY OLD BERK!

ROD (inspecting GRANDFATHER): We'll have to stop of at el drugstore an' get some ointment for those nasty old vicious gashes and bruises!

GRANDDAD: I ain't got no cuts and abrasions!

DEL (zooming up to iz face): IT'S EARLY YET!

GRAND D: My own dear grandsons are planning to viciously beat me app.

NICHOLAS LYNDHURST: Sigh... I suppose we'll have to wait 'til 'The Unlucky Winner Is...' to film abroad.

DAVID JASON: No mate, we'll have to wait a bit longer then that. Still, Miami, here we cam!

ROD: Devon knows how they make it so creamy!

TERRY JONES: WELEASE WOGER!

Closer theme!

SUN, SEA & SANGRIA: In this never-seen publicity still, the boys
enjoy a bhaji on the beach with a couple of Spanish sorts!
It's a dirty job - but someone's got to do it!

[Glebe]

EPISODE: ONE OF A NUMBER OF FILMS ON VIDEOTAPE WHICH CAUSED OUTRAGE AMONG PRESS AND PUBLIC ALIKE AND WERE SUBSEQUENTLY BANNED BY THE THATCHER GOVERNMENT UNDER THE VIDEO RECORDINGS ACT 1984!

Its the opening theme!

INTERIOR NAG! EVENING!

TRIGS and THE BOYCE are playing at snap.

TRIG: What's the madder, Boycie, you ain't cheat'ed wance!

BOYCIE: Oh yeah? There y'go. Four aces.

TRIG: Four aces. I ain't never seen it before. Oh wait.

BOYCIE: You KNEW I had samfing up moi sleeve! Anyway, sorry Trig, bit down at the Mo. Marlene's getting all these tests; I very gently put it to her that perhaps she ain't meant to be gifted with child... so shut the fuck up abaht it - biotch!

TRIG: I'd like to be a farther.

BOYCIE: Yeah, I mean... (JOHN CHALLIS looks around confused) 'ang on, ain't we gonna get sam fanny follow-up on Trig wantin'  to becam a farvah? No? Alright, then.

MIKE: Trig the bastard child never discovered father.

TRIG: You're out of order, Mike!

BOYCIE: Cam on now, Trig, moi lav, whaddit say on birth cert?

TRIG: 'Fucked a load of soldiers'. It's were I get me military prowess from.

We join Mickey and friend at bar.

MICKEY: Go on, gercha self samfink nice, girl! Perhaps a chinky dahn the ol' chinky take 'way!

AMANDA THE PINK-HAIRED PUNK: Cheers Mickster, you ol' racialist you - give yah a bell in the week, yah bell-end!

MIKE: She seems like a nice punkette, Mickey. Sam like a bitta rough - so she choose you!

MICKEY: Oh yeah, that's a fucking joke, innit? Well fack off or I'll glass yeh, yoo cheeky CANT! Oh, 'ello Rodney, hear, have a big pint!

ROD: You splashin' the cash, Mick?

MICKEY: Yeh, shifting a few vids for Boycie - pirates, naughties, the lot!

ROD: Heh heh, 'naughties'! 'ere, Mr. Stevens at the evening closs anly gorn an' give me ten graaaand grant, plaz equipment make mooovie!

MICKEY: Oi, you should write it - remembah your unpublished classic, 'The Predicament'?

ROD: Yes, a fazand pages of sizzling hot erotica! 'ere, you be me director, Mick moi san!

DEL: Evening, all! I been dahn the zoo; Abdul's cazzin's second-sister twice removed owns a rhino, Del, whilst Mankey 'arris' brovvah's cousin's second stepsister twice remoooved owns hay bales! Bizzo!

MIKE: You've got birds nesting in y'bush, Albert, me old san!

ALBERT: UP YER ARSE, MIKE! 'ere, Rodney, while yoo been poncin', I been liftin' bales of 'ay at moi time a loife!

ROD: Makin' movie, me writer, Pearce directin'!

DEL: Do me a favour, that fing 'The Indictament'? Bladdy stoopid, that woz!

ROD: Yes, well, prapz it didn't have the same social impact as Cathy Come Home, but still!

DEL: Caffy Cam 'ome? More loike Lassie Cam 'ome - or later OFAH episode 'Rodney Cam 'ome'!

BOYCIE: I hear Mickey Mouse wears a Rodney Trotter wristwatch - official OFAH merchandise!

INT.CLASSIC RHINO STORY.ANOTHER EVENING.

DEL: Hoy, there y'go, Oscar Wilde, y'bum bandit!

ROD: It's a typewriter, Del!

ALBERT: Yeah, and an' old wan at that. Quality, that is. Royal crest.

ROD: 'By appointment King Charles I'. I bet Tom Stoppard don't 'ave to put app wiv this!

TOM STOPPARD: Yes. Yes, I do, my life is one long wry sitcom.

DEL: You can't whack it!

ROD: I 'ave to whack it, very faint! Listen Del, dahn't want nahn a yoor stories! Oh, go on then, moi san! I would like to hear yoor story, Del!

DEL peeps from over his paper. There now follows the brilliant rhino bit which it would be embarrassing and enraging to try and parody, but I'll have a vague stab.

DEL: There is a Rhino Loose in the City, Charlton Heston, 'ampty Dampty!

ROD: It's a rhino, Del!

ALBERT: Carrots! Vegetarian vampires!

DEL: Woz just tryna put a single, shining idea in yoor head - wish it'd be a single, silver bullet, nah!

ROD: One idea, not many? Several bullets to 'ead?

DEL: Here's the beauty (face to face with ROD) - I happen to know where I can get AN ACTUAL LIVE RHINO going cheap!

ROD: It was all going so well, then that bit of unconvincing nonsense.

INT.CHINKY.ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER DOLLAR.

DEL (on phone): Yeah, cheers Chas, tell Dave he can keep 'is fucking rhino! 'ere, Tony, omelette!

TONY: 'Omrette', coming right up, racism.

DEL: Dannow the lingo, daz 'e? Oh by the way, Rodney, I got Mickey doin' weddings and shit with the camera! Here's your share!

ROD: Blood money! But just this wance, moi old san! Bizzo! Do me no favours, tell me no lies!

MARLENE: Bloody marvellous!

BOYCIE: Now cam along, Marlene, I - oh, hello Del and family!

DEL (pinching Marlene's bum): Phee-phoo! 'allo, 'allo, 'allo, den!

MARLENE: 'Twas Boycie woz the wan firing more blanks than an impotent territorial!

BOYCIE: MAR-LENE! Stop holding public conferences in Chinese grub 'ouses!

DEL: You a nufter, then, Boycie?

IMPOTENT BOYCIE: Ain't it bladdy marvellous!

TONY: Mr. Boyce, you have prawn's balls!

DEL gives Boycie a knowing look.

MARLENE: Bye, all! Cam to our 20th in the Nag's! Come on, 'Low Count'.

DEL (offensively camp, limp wrist): Bai bai, Boy-ciiiiieeeee!!

BOYCIE: Cam along, Marlene, some domestic violence awaits you!

DEL: Cuh, fancy that, Boycie a seedless Jaffa cake!

ROD: 'ere, Boycie's story might make a good film, that clinic he attends is run by the sinister Umbrella Corporation - their Splice O' Life department deals in all sorts of genetic mutation experiments!

AL: I dahn loike, it, freezing staff - they're messing around with nature!

ROD: Nah, merely assisting the creation of X-mutants, unc! They scramble up sam omelettes!

ALBERTINI: Oi, I've ordered up an ova scrambler, ugh!

DEL: Pretty soon you'll have to nip dahn to had to Google Bejams for a baby!

INT.FLAT.SOME ENCHANTED EVENING.

ROD is typin' an' Tipp-Exin'!

DEL: I'm getting vulnerable amateur extras to pay us, ten pand a pop! Plus 'eres a list of local business feh product placement!

ROD: 'The 7th Heaven massage parlour'?

DEL: Yeh, nod and a wink, hand shandy oft the masseur! Oi, 'arry up, Albert! Wotcher, Pearce!

MICKEY: Got me video cam! Smile - you're on the Candid Camera show!

DEL and ALBERT depart.

MICKEY: Say 'allo to Armanda, Rodney!

ROD: Greetings, Awotcha!

AMANDA: Hello Rodtrots!

MICKEY: Coffee all rand!

RODBUMS departs for the kitchen. AMANDA PUNK strips for the Mick-cam. RODS marches back in, kettle in hand!

ROD: Mic-key, wanna word pa-leeeeeeze!

MICK: Cam on, Rodballs, make our own pornos, cat the middle maaan aht!

ROD: I'D LIKE TO CUT YOUR FUCKING LIVER OUT SLOWING WITH A BLUNT, RUSTY SPOON!

ROD retreats to the kitchen again.

ROD: I dahn't believe this is 'appenin' to me! More ads then y'Pearl & Dean and nah Mickey's making Emmanuelle in Peckham Rye! Okay, Rodney... deep brefs...

MICKEY (in main room): Emmanuelle in Peckham Rye, scene 101, take 42!

INT.FLAT.SAME EVENING.

We see AMANDA's arm holding a bra. RODNEY looks shocked!

RODNEY: Oh nah! MICKEY!

INT.NAG'S.YET ANOTHER EVENING.

MICKEY: Go on, jiggle 'em abaht a bit... phwoarr!

BOYCIE: Cam along, Marlene, put y'tits away!

DEL: 'appy anniversary, one and all!

MIKE: Here, Rodney... (does Bogart) 'of all the bahs in all the world y'had t'walk in ta diz wan'!

ROD: Mike's an extra, extra, read all abaht id!

VICAR: Oh, isn't it sad about childless Boyce & Marlene?

ROD: Yes, I believe the delicate eco-balance has persuaded them not to bear fruit.

VICAR: Funny, I thought it was cos Boycie is a fucking Jaffa!

INT.NAG'S BACK ROOM.SAME EVENING.

The boys and their mates crowd in to watch the latest itineration of Emmanuelle.

TRIG: Oi, Dave, 'yoo dirdy rat'!

DEL: 'Look at me Ma, toppa the world, Ma'!

BOYCIE: The Boyce Arts & Leisure Wanking Company proudly present the British premiere of a naughtie - based on the book by Enid Blyton, hur!

BOYCIE starts the video.

LADS: YOOOOOOH!!

MIKE: Cor, bit unexpected, ooh pardon!

DEL: Cuh, she's asking for it, she is, coo! Nice earmuffs, dahling!

MIKE: That is special effects, them tits Del, haha! Wait, I know that bird from the first scene in me pub!

BOYCIE: Isn't it all rather unbelievable how we don't recognize the dingy Trotter flat, eh, AHAHAHAHAHA!!

Suddenly Rodney walks in, starring straight into the BBC lens.

DEL: 'ang on, that's the studio camera, not from Mickey's POV! RODNEY!

INT.FLAT.NEXT DAY.

DEL is strangling RODNEY.

ROD: I didn't know, Del, honest! I didn't realise Mickey was controlling the BBC studio cam!

DEL: Boycie's doin' it foh the Driscoll's are what I'm worried abaht! And one a dem turns aht to be Christopher Ryan from The Young Ones. Gunna save your kneecaps an' flush this VHS cassette dahn the carsie!

ROD: Good luck with that.

MICKEY: Oi oi, Rodney, I'm here wiv Hot Gossip!

DEL: Oi, cam 'ere, you!

DEL chases MICKEY and Hot Gossip out, killing them one by one with a sledgehammer in the basement. They beg for mercy.

ROD: Hahaha!

The phone rings.

ROD (on phone): Oh, hello, Mr. Stevens! What you fink? And please, be brutally honest. Right. No need to swear. What's that? Punchline? You want a rhino?

THE END!

Its the closing music!

Surprisingly, the rhino idea did eventually come to fruition.
"Moribund" - Roger Ebert.

[DangledTeeth]

That Jolly Boys' Ahhhting

Ext. Market

Del: Gather rahnd and buy this shifty bollocks, ladies and Gen'lemern.

Albert is leaning against the van, Cassandra approaches

Cassandra: Hello Uncle Albert. I've no idea why I'm not addressing you by your real name.

Albert: Allo Cahsearndrah, lav. DOORIN' DA WOAH... I was situated right in the middle of the Bah-ol of Ships. Cannerns firin' orf, explarsions all over the tahn.

Del: Gaw bloimay, you're supposed to be me lookaht.

Albert: Sorry, Del. I was showin' KuhSAHNDRAH my medal. And that ain't a euphemism for my cock. HYUH-HOR!

Del: You should have a medal in being a shit lookaht goat garrity old plonker goat, you garrity goat plonker.

Marlene approaches with Tyler in a pushchair

Del: Hello Marlene. (Pinches her arse and whistles)

Marlene: WOO-HUP! 'ello Del.

Albert: Gis 'im 'ere! Oi'm good with kids. (Wanders off with Tyler)

Del: 'ere Cassandra, I'm looking forward to dinner tonight.

Cassandra: Oh, erm, I don't think you'd like it. I'm concerned you'll get bored.

Del: Naaoh, we'll be alright. We're faAaAamly nah.

Switch to Albert prattling away to Tyler

Albert: You could almost get yerself killed for a medal... then again, 'opefully not. (Notices Tyler's fallen asleep and makes his head wobble, as in Albert not Tyler)

Int. Alan Parry's Printing Factory, Office

Alan: Rodney, have you got those print-outs typed up for the bank? They've been deleted once already.

Rodney: Shouldn't be too long, Alan.

Alan: Have you bought Cassandra anything?

Rodney: I, er, bought Cassandra a sausage-type momento.

Alan: Oh. I expect I'll see it tonight.

Rodney (Firm mutter): I don't think you will, Alan.

Alan: Why not?  Ah ha hoh... oh... uh-ooooh. OH! Well I'm looking forward to this anniversary dinner

Rodney: I was, until I heard Stephen from the bank is coming.

Alan: Now be fair, son. He's Cassandra's superior; she needs to be in his good books.

Rodney: I know but he's such a cosmic dick. (Impersonating Stephen) 'Get your heads around this. Let me run this past you.
Aren't you going to let me wipe the floor with you at Trivial Pursuit? Derek, I'm not a yuppy'.

Alan goes to exit

Rodney: Alan! I invited Del an' Albert. I 'ad to, they're family.

Alan: Ah well, I don't think she'd like the fuckin' job.

Elvis (To Rodney): Excuse me, sir. Why ain't I in EastEnders yet?

Rodney: You're too young to act as a father of a family. (To Alan) They don't even know they're not bald yet.

Alan smiles at Elvis' supposed clueless ways and exits

Int. CassRod Flat

Stephen: Africa! Take bananas as an example - we're talking massive growth.

Del: I agree with yer, Stephen. The bigger da banaNAAAR the more there is.

Alan: Erm, Stephen was talking about growth in a different context.

Del: Oh... w'yerrrr, I mean, I knew Thaa-AAAGHT. I j-just wasn't sure. But I'm with yer naow, and yes, quite right you are, Stephen.
The viagra trade is booming. Fabrique Belgique!

Stephen and Alan exchange incredulous looks. Rodney is tight-lipped and rigid through mild embarrassment

Pam: Drinks, anyone?

Del: Whiskey please, Pamela.

Pam: Jack Daniels?

Del: Eh? (Looks around the room) Who's that?

Pam pulls a face

Cassandra: Dad?

Alan: Oh, jellied eel scotch, love.

Benedict Cumberbatch's Mum gives Dennis 'Bob the Cartoonist in Batman (1989)' Lill a warning stare

Alan: Erm, actually, a small port.

Stephen: Nothing for me, thank you. I need to be up for baseball.

Del: I blardee lav baseball, Stephen. I catch it on the ol' Channel Four.

Rodney: You don't like baseball. You've always called it helmet cunts with twigs and oven gloves.

Del: Well yeah, that was before it was cool. Guys like me and Stephen enjoy it.

Stephen (Mystified, snobbily): How do you mean 'GuyS like me and SSSStephen'?

Del: Well... fuckin' yuppies.

Stephen: Derek! I'm not a fuckin' yuppy!

Del: No, Stephen. You are! Guaranteed!

Rodney and Alan conceal their grins - poorly!

Stephen: Right! Are you going to give me to chance to wipe the floor with you at Trivial Pursuit?

Del: Tribunial Persia. Lavvly jabbly!

Rodney: Erm, Del... it's an intellectual sort of game

Alan: Yeah. The questions will be difficult.

Del: Oh don't concern yerselves. I'll 'elp ya if you get stuck. (Quietly, to Rodney) 'ow the fuck do you play the cunt?

Rodney: Shake dice, erm, push small coloured pizza slices, answer the questions correctly.

They move over to the lounge area

Albert: What part of Africa did you go to?

Joanne: The bit with all the animals and sandy bollocks.

Albert: I've bin there.

Del (Mocking, to Rodney): Joorin theeee waw-waaah.

Albert: D'rin the wer me and the crew were after this battle schooner ahp the Zanzibar Channel.

Joanne: Did you find it?

Albert: Yah. The fackin' arsehole sank us.

Stephen: Yar, for sure. Right! Try and get your heads round this, okay? Imagine the sun setting on the vast waters
of Lake Victoria... A hundred-thousand wildebeest grazing on the Masai Steppe, yar.

Cassandra: Sounds wonderful.

Del: We're off to a Beano-sponsored piss-up dahn Margate. Do you fancy coming, you posh wanker?

Stephen: Me? Oh... it's Bank Holiday, and Joanne and I spend it together.

Joanne: Do you think I'm doing the same shit each Bank 'oliday? Nort on yer Nelly! Now, I'm going to Mummy and Daddy's this weekend,
and if you don't go out on a plebby working-class excursion I'm going to sharve these flawers roight ahp your...

Train Klaxon: HHHHHRUUUUURB!

Stephen: But I won't know anyone.

Albert: Rodney's gah-in.

Cassandra (To Rodney): You're going?!

Rodney: It's tradition - it's der Jolly Boys' Ahting

Pamela: Oh, let Rodney have some fun, darling.

Del: Yeah, it'll be alright, 'cause Alan's going.

Pamela: My carefree attitude only applies to my beloved daughter, but not my 'usband.

Alan: Fresh sea air.

Pamela: You're going to get fuckin' bollocked on jellied eels, aren't you?

Alan: I'm not going to eat any, nor will I have any drinks.

Stephen: That sounds brill. Trivial Pursuit time. You roll first, Derek.

Del: Okay. (Rolls the dice and moves counter) one, two, three, and four.

Stephen: Ah, S&N.

Del: That's a bit kinky (nudges his head sideways) whips and chains an' what 'ave ya.

Alan: No, that's S&M, this is S&N.

Del: Ah-oohhh thaaaat sort of S&N. I knew thaaat, KNEW THAAA-aAaAaAaAAaAght! What's it stand for?

Stephen: Science and Nature. (Reading card) Oaaah gawrd. It's soooo simple. What is the name of the animal which is said to be able to break an arm with the flap of its wing?

Del (Contemplative expression): Wh-what... is... the name for... erm...

Stephen: You don't know it?

Del: Nah, nah, it's stuck at the back of me mind.

Albert: Four letters!

Stephen: Now come on, there's nothing in the rules to say you can give out clues.

Albert: There's naink in the rules which says you can't give out clues (bobs his head backwards and forwards) HER-HUARP!

Rodney rhythmically taps his knee to get Del's attention. Rodney has a finger outstretched to secretly indicate a box of Swan matches placed on the lap of Stephen, which he used to light a few candles on the coffee table

Del: Mhmm? (Spots Rodney's gesture)  Oh, got it! It's a twat!

Int. Jolly Boys' Ahting Bahs

Not Paul McCartney: Help! I need sahmbardeee. HELP! Not just anybardeeeeee.

Jolly Nag's 'ead Boys (Singing): When I was younger, so much younger than todaaaay. I never needed anybody's help in any waaaaaay. But now these days are gone I'm not so self-assured. Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors. Help me if you can, I'm feeling daaah-aown. And I do appreciate you being 'raaah-aownd. Help me get my feet back on the graaah-aownd

Mickey (Eyes closed, singing near a sleeping Albert): Won't you please, PUH-LEAAAAZE HELP MEEEE!

Albert: Get out of it, you rat-faced spiv cunt.

Jevon: Roads are chockablock!

Albert: Can I have sammink ta eat, Del?

Del: Course you can, Unc. (Approaches the back of the coach)

Jevon: You've gotta give Del his due. 'e did the catering all by himself.

Mickey: Leave off, Jevon. Del got some right stupid, insipid bastard to do it all.

Trigger: I'm the punchline.

Del walks up the aisle to a seated Denzil with a box filled with saahndwidjiz alongside him. Denzil pops a few pills

Del: Have a bitter to down that. Don't you realise the damage that shit does to ya?

Denzil: They're not raver tablets, they're antibiotekz. I've got this duhzeaze.

Del: Ooaaah.

Denzil: It's an ear infecshernnnn. Don't tell anywohn, Del.

Del: Yeah, your diseasecret is safe with me. (Calling)  Michael, ya luck's changed. You're looking after the grub.

Sid: I wanna word with you, Del.

Del: Yes, Sid?

Sid: I've got a health inspector's nightmare for a cafe, so why didn't you ask unkempt Sid to provide your eating fodder?

Del: Well, Sid, the explanation is simple: we intend to consume high-quality food that's not topped with fuckin' Marlboro dust.

Sid: Oh, that's alright.

Del: Right then, lads, the 'alfway 'ouse is up ahead in ten minutes - and that's when the drunken lunacy begins.

Jolly Boys: WU-HOH!

Jevon: Make them lagers long... and coooooool.

Trigger: I'm going to buy a Kiss Me Quick hat and carry an inflatable dolphin.

Albert: Oi'm sayin' naffink, sahn!

Rodney: Look aht, Margate. Rodney Trotter's gonna smack some arses. HA HA HA HA. (Turns to see Alan) Alright, Alan?

Alan: Yes, son. Make them jellied eels all jelly... and EEEEEEL.

Mike hands out sandwiches and gives a bell to Denzil

Denzil (To Del): You said you wouldn't say anything.

Del: Just like that time I tried to put me limp cock inside some tart's slot - it just slipped aht

Nag's Head Chaps: WUUH! DIRTY! UNCLEAN CUNT!

Denzil smiles and sits down

Del notices smoke coming out of a dodgy Albanian radio he tried to sell

Rodney: Del, mate. The pub's up ahead.

Del: LAVVLY JABBLY!

Int. Halfway House

Sid: Some arsehole sank a boat I was in.

Albert appears sheepish

Albert: Fancy anavva one, Sid?

Sid: Yeah, why not? We've both got at least half of our drinks left, but it's a Jolly Boys' Ahting.

Int. Toilets

Mike: Del, Harry's fucked on booze.

Eddie: Mike, we've got to stop meeting like this.

Mike: Del, I'd like you to meet my old mate whom I haven't bumped into prior to this scene.

Eddie: Shake my urine-drenched hand, Del.

Del: Ergh. Chlorine salmon.

Mike: Have you still got a pub when you emigrated to the Isle of Wight?

Eddie: Nah, I ain't into pubs these days. I've got a club down Margate.

Del: We're off on a beano down there, Eddie. Give us some complimentary tickets and I'll sell 'em.

Eddie: Some for you, Del. And a few for you, Mike. Shake my pissy hand again and I'm off.

Ext. Pub

Del: Denzil, drive the bus. Harry's drunk.

Denzil: No! It's my day off. I can't. My diseased ear will infect the steering wheel. What about Sid?

Sid: I'd love to, Denzil. But I'm a cafe owner now.

Del: And you haven't had a drink cos of your illness.

Two policemen become suspicious of the argument and the sight of a drunk Harry being conveyed on to the bus

Trigger (Referring to Harry): What do you think's wrong with him?

Mike: Alcohol would be my guess, Trig.

Trigger: Yeah? I thought he pissed himself.

Del: Rodney! Give us that ball.

Rodney: Ian Rush? Fuck off! (Rodney throws the ball up in the air and does a bicycle kick)

Policeman (To Del): Excuse me, s- (the ball whacks the policeman in the face) Right, you're nicked! I dunno how fucked you are, sir, but it's too much.

Rodney (Does that whiny, vague Midlands accent): Naaoh, naaoh. I wuz just throwin' back the baawll

Del: That is correct, Officer. He launched the ball in to the air then he expertly struck the ball with his foot.

Policeman: You can tell me down at the station.

Ext. Police station

Rodney: Exhibit A.

Alan: Don't worry, it's a caution.

Del: Back on the coach

Music: Everybahdy's tawken aht meeeh. I don't hear a worrrrd they're sayen'... only the echoes of mah miiiiiind. HHWAAAAH-WAOH-UH-WAWL-WOOOOWL!

The Nag's 'ead committee run away from a gentle lap of a wave with their trahsiz rolled ahp above their ankles.

Del leads the group by walking like a penguin with a broken foot

Close up of Boycie smoking a cigar and blowing near Albert

Trigger proudly steps out of an arcade with 'I Fuckin' Went to Margate And Got This Black Gondola Sailor-style 'at' emblazoned on it, and an inflatable coral reef is tucked between his ribs and arm

Everyone, except Del, go on a spinning ride thing. They exit to see Del mocking their dizziness by biting carelessly on a billowing ice cream and a mammoth-sized bag of chips, he gestures for them to eat them

Del and Rodney reflect on the day

Del: This time next year I'll repeat my mantra again.

Rodney: Lobster coladas. Let's go home.

Int. Jolly Boys' Ahting Bahs

Denzil: Is everyone here?

Del: No. Rodney's reporting to HQ on the blower outside. (Del notices the radio on fire) Gordon Bennett! The radio is playing some smokin' 'ot tunes. GET OFF THE CUNT NOW!

Rodney (On pay-phone, to Cassandra): I know outlandish mishaps usually occur, Cassandra. But not this time.

The coach Explodes

Rodney: Are you still there, Cassandra? Aah coach 'as jast blown ahp!

The Nag's 'ead Bunch stare ahead at the huge inferno

Del: Don't worry, 'arry. I'll tell yer guvnor a

Spoiler alert

Racial epithet removed

[close]

squirrel nested in the engine

Ext. Train Station

The Nag's 'ead army appear quietly disgruntled

Del: Oh fromage bollocques! There's a rail strike.

Albert: When the war was on...

Rodney: Oh don't start that, Unc.

Mickey: We've 'ad enough of your stoopid stories for one day, Albert.

Del: Oi! Oi! 'es a war hero; he's got a right to speak.

Albert: I fought for free speech.

Del: SHAT FACKIN' AAHP. CONTRADICTED MY VIEW FOR COMICAL EFFECT.

Alan: The buses don't start up again until the next morning. the coach firm said they'll be a new one tomorrow. So, gentleman, let's scarper for a hotel.

Boycie: Yes. Oi feel like a nice walk. Don't you, Michael?

Michael: Yes, Boycie. Mhrmm, walk nice have us.

Jevon: Yeah, I'll have a walk with Mickey and Denzil before the hotels are choh-a-block

Mickey (singing, with eyes closed): so won't you PLEEEEASE FIND US A HO-TELLLLLL.

Denzil: Not a duhzeaze! Ear infecshernnnnn!

Alan: I'll have a stroll with the now-sober bus driver.

Everyone leaves and Trigger walks back and forth into view

Del, Albert and Rodney approach a pleasant-looking B&B

Del: Look! There's vacancies in this gaff.

Int. Mrs Baker's Quaint, Old-Fashioned Hotel

Del: Smell that (sniffs) roast beef and potatoes...

Rodney: On a plate, if I'm not mistaken

Albert picks up a cat and strokes it

Albert: 'e's a beau'iful feline. 'e likes me.

Del: Probably in love with your blue hat.

Good evening: Mrs Baker

Del: Ah, good evening. We're here to fill in your vacancies.

Mrs Baker: Oooh, that silly fuckin' CUNT (The Trotters flinch). I told 'er to put that sign down. I'm sorry to say there are no more rooms, the last rooms were filled about an hour ago. It's because of the Bank Holiday.

Helen, an assistant, speeds through the hall with a tray of food

Mrs Baker: Helen, you forgot to take the sign away.

Helen: I'm sorry, Mrs Baker. I'll remove it soon

Rodney: Can't we kip on your sofa?

Albert: Broom cupboard?

Rodney: Kitchen bins?

Del: Somebody's room?

Mrs Baker: I'd love to help, but it's health and safety gone mad.

Del: Is there anywhere else?

Mrs Baker: You can try... The Villa Bella

Lightning Sound Effect: TUN-DAOW-EE-AWWNGHNNNNNK!

Del: Thanks, we'll give Villa Bello a try.

The Trotters exit but pause at the sound of Mickey

Mickey (Singing): So won't you PLEEEEASE GIVE ME MORE GRA-VYYYYY. Ha ha

Denzil: And the bus went WHOOVF! We almost died, except for Rodney.

Mickey: You shoulda seen Del Boy's face and our faces. Fuck! It was terrifying and nothing to joke abaht.

Jevon: Chockablock video camera!

The Trotters enter

Mickey: AWD AHP! AWD AHP! 'ERE COMES THE COACHFUCKERS!

Jevon: Are you stayin' 'ere? 'Cause we thought the 'otel was choh-a-blawk!

Del: No, no, we're staying somewhere else.

Mickey: 'ere - speaking like I'm familiar with the area and its B&Bs - you're not staying at the (camera smoothly zooms in)
The Villa Bella, are ya?

Lightning: TUN-DAOW-EE-AWNNGHNNK!

Del: Nah, nah.

Rodney: We've got ourselves a nice place.

Del: Yeah!

Mrs Baker: Eh? you came in here grovelling to sleep in my bin cupboard or something, then I recommended (dramatic pause) The Villa Bella.

Lightning: TUN-DAOW-EE-AWNNGHNNK!

Del glares at Mrs Baker and quickly puts on a false smile

Del: Mrs Baker, make sure Denzil has his medication, he's got HIV in his sound cavern

Denzil: I have not got a duhzeaze. (To Mrs Baker) It's an ear infecshernnnnn. I'm on antibioteks.

Del: AN-EE-BI-OH-IKS

Del pinches Mickey's fork

Del: Hasta la bon appetit, cunts!

The Trotters exit and Albert appears to ready himself to backhand the cat

Albert: Fuck orf!

Ext. The Villa Bella

Del: Here we are at this gothic shitmountain.

Rodney: I haven't heard that cheap-sounding, dated lightning sound effect that does the rounds on many TV programmes.

Lightning: Here I am, Rodney. BAH-BAWN-DAOW-NAOOOOWWWWWRNNNK!

Rodney: Cosmic.

Albert: NODDARF!

A gaunt woman stands at the door and basks in the damp atmosphere.

Mrs Creswell: Yars?

Del: Oh... er, we're here for a room for three, please.

Mrs Creswell: I have one rrrroom. Follow me.

The Trotters enter the gloomy hotel.

Del: Nippy aht there, ha ha.

Lightning: TUN-DAOW-EE-FUCKING-AWNNGHNNK!

Mrs Creswell carrasses herself and smiles as she looks upwards

Mrs Creswell: Thart's the weathaaah.

Del: Gaw, you don't 'alf sahnd like Anne Robinson.

Mrs Crewswell: I kneuh. 30 pounds, that includes a traditional English breakfast.
  .
Del (Half-hearted): Cushty!

Inga the maid enters with a tray of food - two plates with a mangled piece of broccoli covered in cum.

Mrs Creswell: Inga, could you show our guests to their room.

Inga: I've only got the one pair of hands.

Mrs creswell: Show these twats to their room after you've served dinner.

Inga: Do everyting yeh blohddy self around here.

Del produces a small wad of money and Mrs creswell shoves it down her tits and exits. Inga pops out of the dining room

Inga: It's up here.

The Trotters stand rigidly as Inga ascends the stairs and turns around

Inga: WHICHEVER, CARMARN! You English cunts.

Del attempts to write in the guestbook, but the pen is tethered to the wall; he pulls with such force the plaster breaks off

Int. Bedroom

Albert: That moi 'alf of the cavah

Rodney: I need some, too.

Del: Are you to going be like this all night?

Rodney: This is my first night away from Cassandra.

Albert: I bet she's glad.

Rodney: What is that supposed to mean?

Albert: Is this is how you carry on with 'er.

Rodney: Of course it isn't.

Albert: Why are you giving me this aggro?

Rodney: There's a big difference between sleeping with you and sleeping with Cass.

Albert: LIKE WHA'?

Rodney: She is a woman, doesn't have a beard and - annnnd - she's not me Great Uncle.

Del: Oh, what a bark. Shall we discuss it over some drinks? It's too early for bend - quar'er past ten. Leavidaaht, you taaaart.

Rodney: No. I promised Cassandra I wouldn't go out at night.

Del: Cassandra might have gone out herself

Albert: What good for the geese is great for the duck?

Del: Exactly that, Albert

Albert: Cassandra probably has invited that Stephen rahnd.

Rodney: No, he's gone away with his wife for the weekend... if he's been round my flat I'll punch his nose.

Del: Oh, shall we discuss it over a few drinks?

Albert: It's for the best, son. Make ya feel better.

Rodney: It's just that... this is a conspiracy. (Looks at Del) You're just a shape-shifting lizard who's manipulating the inflated prices. (Glares at Albert) And you're sneaking triangles and eyeballs into films.

Del: Alright, alright. Let's get to sleep. I could do with an extra blanket.

Rodney: Yeah, it is fuckin' cold in 'ere.

Albert: Cold? You dan't knah the meaning of the word, shipmates. My lighter froze once.

Rodney: Right, fuck this. Let's have one quick light non-alcoholic ale.

Int. Mardi Gras Club. Night

Del: Scampi.

Boycie: Hello Del Boy, Rodney.

Del: Oh, alright Boycie. This place is very good. There's a singer, magician and a comedian. The comedian's on now showing us
what shit singing sahnds like.

Boycie (Lightly): HAH-AGH-EGH-AGH-AGH!

The singer squints with disapproval at Del

Del: Got yourself an 'otel?

Boycie: Yes. Me, Mike and Alan booked into one earlier.

Rodney: What about Harry?

Mike: I don't know where he's stayin'. Probably asleep in a skip.

Trigger: I'm stayin' at a motel. They don't know I'm an idiot.

Mike: I'd keep you're fuckin' gob shut on that one, Trig.

Trigger: NOHLARF!

Eddie: Please welcome the Gay Ramondo and Raquel, Who Went Out with Del Boy

A magician act appears on stage

Trigger: Where have I seen that bird before?

Mike: I've seen 'er before an' all. Ain't that the woman Del went out with?

Trigger: Woman? I was talking about the dove on his arm.

Mike pulls a mock-horror expression

Boycie: It's Raquel, the Strippagraaaaam!

Rodney: It is, Del. Look at the board.

Del: It doesn't say 'Raquel the Strippagram'. It says (surveys the board) it is 'er.

Del, entranced, wanders towards the stage

Del: Psst!

Ramondo sniffs the air and waves his hand behind his arse

Del: Raquel!

Raquel looks around the room

Raquel: Del!

The birds fly towards the audience

Del: Fuckin' good that one! Marvellous, Raquel! (Applauds)

Fade to bar

Del: I want your autograph... and telephone number

Del and Raquel lean in for a kiss

Ramondo: That was unprofessional, Raquel. Don't do it again. We're on again in five minutes (Exits)

Del (Incensed): Do you want me to sort 'im aht, eh? Eh?

Raquel: Oh, leave it, Del. He's right, it was unprofessional.

Del: I'll see you then. You've still got my address.

Raquel: Yeah.

Del: You can ring me a letter, if you like. Don't forget me, will yer.

Raquel: Oh I'll never forget an audacious market trader like you, Del Boy.

Ext. Street

Del does his own version of Singing in the Rain

Del: She's great ain't she, Rodders? RAQUEL!

Rodney: Shut up, Del.

Del: Oh Jubbly fucking wankertits! The doors looked.

Rodney: Don't you remember, she shuts at 11pm and doesn't open until 9am.

Del (Whispering to window): Alberrrrrt.

Rodney: Albert!

Del throws an asteroid at the window.

Window: SMASH!

Inga (OOV): Somebody's thrown a rahck troo d'window.

Mrs Creswell (OOV): Phone the rozzers, Inga!

Rodney: Oh naaooooh! I can't get nicked twice in one day.

Del: Let's crouch down and raise our forearms slightly and attentively listen to the distress we've caused.

Rodney: Right you are, Del.

Del and Rodney cower for a few seconds

Del: Alright let's fuckin' run off like we've deposited a turd in our bum 'ammocks.

Del and Rodney sneak off into the night.

Ext. Raquel's Flat

Del (on intercom): Raquel, could ya let us in for the night. Brass monkey crying.

Raquel: Okay.

Int. Raquel's Flat

Raquel: I can only offer you a sofa and an armchair.

Del: Thanks

Raquel exits to her bedroom

Del: Have you noticed how 'er radiant smile lights up a room?

Rodney: Most of your birds walk in and suck a cock. Ha ha.

Del: Yes, she's as straight as a die.

Ramondo: Well I'm not. (Startled) What are you doing here?

Del: What are you doin' 'ere in a flat that isn't mine?

Rodney: Er, we were locked out of our hotel for the night.

Ramondo: We'll see about that! (Exits to kitchen) Raquel, why'd you let two strangers in here.

Del: I'm gonna punch him one.

Rodney: Leave it, Del. You can't be sure of anything.

Del: Alright, I'll keep calm. (Enters the kitchen, OOV) Hello Ramondo, can my fist talk to you.

Ramondo stumbles out and Del flicks his hand several times to eleviate himself of the pain.

Del: You see what I've been sayin' to you? Your expiry date has ended. You're plonking well out, pal! This is nature's way of telling you to FUCK OFF, SON! (Kicks a suitcase out of the window)

Raquel: What did you do that for?

Del: It's alright, Raquel. The Gay Ramondo won't bully you no more - Del Boy is here!

Rodney: Whistles

Ramondo (To Raquel): Haven't you told 'im?

Raquel: I haven't had the chance.

Ramondo: Raquel... is not my type.

Del: You could do better than that. Yet realistically, living in Margate, you perhaps can't.

Raquel: This is my room (Taps a door). This Ray's room (Taps another door).

Del looks perplexed at Rodney

Rodney: Take yer time, Del.

Raquel: If Ray said he dealt with some arsehole, I wouldn't think he had trouble with a drunk member of the audience

Del (To Ray): Ooooah! So you're a

Spoiler alert

'log-blocker' removed for GOLD's sensitive viewers

[close]

Ramondo: Yessss. It's not something one drops into conversation.

Del (In embarrassed, playful manner): Oh I am so sorry. Whatever must you think of me. I believe I kicked your luggage aht the window.

Ramondo: It's fine. I'll get it. I could do with the fresh air (Exits)

Del (To Raquel): I was protecting you, sweet'eart. I thought...

Raquel: I've only been on a few dates with you about a year ago, but despite that I can confidently say 'you never think, Del'.

Raquel exits to her bedroom. Del squirms with shame and Rodney looks at him with a 'told you so' look. Raquel enters with a pillow and ferociously throws it at Del AND Rodney. She pauses mid-exit, goes back to the settee and puts her tit in Del's mouth for a few seconds)

Raquel: Thank you! (Exits)

Del: Fuckin' magic!

Ext. Coach

Rodney leaves the coach

Del: Rodney, you're a man not a mouse. And don't contradict the advice you gave me about not beating people up before familiarising yerself with people's circumstances.

Rodney: Yes. Cheers, Del.

Int. RodCass Flat

Cassandra: You're back early.

Rodney: Yes.

Stephen saunters out from the kitchen

Stephen: Hello Rod. How was (Clicks fingers and swings his arm) Margate?

Rodney: Fuck Margate! What are you doing here?

Stephen: Hey, back off, Rod.

Rodney: You know, there's something I've been meaning to do. I want to wipe the floor with you at Trivial Pursuit. Let's start.
(Reading aloud off a card) Film and Television. What does Rocky Balboa do to his opponents? (Stephen stares ahead with antipation and shakes his head) He does this (Punches Stephen) Now you see where I'm coming from, yuppy! (Rodney notices Joanne walking in with a tray of coffees)

Rodney (Does that whiny, vague Midlands accent again): Wh-what's she doing here? I thought she was going to her parents' for the woikend?!

Cassandra: She was but there was a rail strike. She came around to give us this holiday brochure.

Rodney (Casually): See anything you like?

Int. Trotters' Flat

Del (On phone): Now you have forgiven me, Raquel? Cushty! You know it makes sense. Uncle Albert got a whack on his 'ead by
an asteroid. (Albert enters from the kitchen with a plaster on his head)

Albert: I fought in the war to not get hit by intergalactic, oversized pebbles. Did you hear about Boycie and Mike?

Del: No, what 'appened?

Albert: Sahm cunt's luggage flew at them.

Del: It's a terrible world, sweet'eart. Can you get Ramondo to do a disappearing act? Yes. LAVVLY JABBLY! I'll see you next Saturday.
(Replaces receiver)

Rodney storms in

Del: Alright, bruv?

Chas and Dave: DAHNNNN TA MARGIT. BUNCHA FACKIN' FUN COCKNEY BARREL OF LARFS!

[Glebe]

EPISODE: MY STARS, BUT THOSE DARN RUSKIES DURST APPROACH!

Open theme!

EXT.DEMOLITION MAN.DAY.

DEL: There y'are, look, this is what I bought this mornin'!

ROD: What, the laund?

DEL: Nah, divstick, dah bricks for 'andred nickah!

ROD: Oh shrewd move Del - 'ooh the 'ells gan buy dem, then, eh?!

DEL: Butchers, bakers, candlestick makers... an' stoopid mick builders at twice dah proice! Readies in me pock! And 'ave a look under them old bricks... gawan, gercha peepers on thaaaught!

ROD: Cheap pencil lead, my san! Shrewd!

DEL: There's anaver three boxes underneaf! And dahn't split me hairs, its legally ours!

ROD: Mast be ten pands worf! Split three ways, three odd quid each! Nah if you'll excuse me Del, I'm orf to a student demo in me PLO scarf and punk T-shirt!

INT.MANDELA'S FLAT.DAY.

DEL: Phew... spread them boxes out, the granddad, we dahn't wont them crashin' through onto Mrs. Um Bongo darn below, racist! Look at that lazy littul bark(er), dirty book yoo readin'?

ROD: Yes, Del, but before I picked up this Readers' Wives, I waz lookin' at this paperwork, we got ourselves a nuclear fallout shelter moi san!

DEL: Dahn't be wally!

ROD: Nah nah straight app!

DEL: Cor, look at dem blueprints, 'es right an' all! We can sell it for bunce!

ROD: Nah, nah, build it!

DEL: YOU WALLY!

ROD: Del, we are at war with Cuba, Vietnam, the Afghan Whigs an' the Polish builders! WWIII anly rand the corner an' the Russians are cammin'! One little ramble, goodnight Irene, in the event!

DEL: Yeah, but we got one torpedo to fire at 'em - an dat don't work an' all! Plaz the four-minute warnin'!

ROD: We darn't know what the four-minuter sand like! Bells? Ice cream vaaaans? We're fucked! They got underground salvos, chemical weapons full of bleach! Be writhing like a worm -after a curry, hur hur!

DEL: Eat, smoke and be cushty - for tomorrow we die of radiation!

ROD: Gawan, Del, those few boxes under the bricks actually contained tons of batteries and air filters and shit! A whole shelter in a box or two!

GRANDDAD: We can build it aht in Thetford Forest - easy make the four minutes' trip!

DEL: Nah nah, allotment, allotment! Alright, soppy, we'll give it a go! Light Ale, Granddad?

DEL shoots RODNEY wiv iz gun lighter.

EXT.BRIT-CIT.DAY.

DEL and PLONKEY run for the Reliant.

DEL: Where's Granddaaaaaad?!

They go back to get GRAMPS an' shove him in the car.

DEL: How we doing for time?

ROD: 3:59-

*BOOM!!*

Meanwhile, in an alternative universe...

DEL: How we doin' for time?

ROD: I can't answer you now Del because your reaction shot is filmed separately. But looking at the script, I see you wish to know the time in this scene. The missiles have stopped of in Sweden, having just left bladdy Siberia!

EXT./INT.PECKHAM RYE/CAR.DAY.

ROD: Deuce mins an' counting, the missiles 'ave destroyed Middlesbrough, Luton beware! Safe to go, Del, after THIS FIRST BLUE CAR.

DEL: You wally, second red! Sod Luton for a banarna!

GRANDDAD: Put yah foot dahn, Del Boy - it's The Fuzz!

A police siren is heard. A police car stops the lads.

GRANDDAD: 'ello young Jack!

REGAN: SHAT IT, YOU SLAAAAAG! Not you, Granddad, the siren! Shat it off, young George! Doin' the four-minute mile, Del?

DEL: As a matter of fact Jack, no. But I can get you and your wife Fladge some 'ooky 'oliday gear!

REGAN: Put away that woodbine, Rodney! Nice one, Del! By the way, do you know John Challis appeared in The Sweeney?

GEORGE: Cam on, guv'nor, Haskins is waiting!

ROD: With all this absurdist rabbit, we died ten minutes ago.

GRANDDAD: I think I fand us just the spot for a closing visual punchline!

INT.FALLOUT SHELTER.DAY.

DEL is hitting the pipe.

ROD: Pigeons!

DEL: Just think, with the manny from this I coulda bought meself wan a dem 'Rolox' watches - pisspronounce!

ROD: Get much bunce from y'Brixton riot brick sale, then?

DEL: Nah, nah, you dahn't nah about propah war! Dem kids on the Space Invaders, they're practicing for compooter war of the foochah!

ROD: How very prescient of you, Del.

DEL: I'm takin' about the propah films war... over the top, chaps, nice one Fritz, Norman Wisdom gettin' iz bayonet stuck, Carry On Sergeant!

GRANDDAD: Don't talk daft, Del, you fucking berk! Ketchup stuntmen! The ahny war you ever fought was the Inch War - and the Inchworm War! Seen it for real as a nipper! My brother George-

DEL: Another one? We got rela'ives crawlin' aht of dah woodwork, nah!

GRANDDAD: Nah, not brother Uncle Albert - 'e pretended to be fourteen to dodge draft, but the big white beard was a dead giveaway! (the camera closes in on GRANDDAD) Nah, George was at Emmerdale, fighting for what? A muddy farm! They stack them 'eroes in grey buildings wen they cam home... put y'right off your victory dinnah!

DEL: It's good this, innit! Like a self-contained play!

GRANDDAD: The politicians, the politicians used to con, y'see? THEY PROMISED AZ WENDY 'OUSES FIT FOR SUPER'EROES - INSTEAD THEY GAVE US 'OMES... FIT FOR SHERLOCK 'OLMES!

ROD: I'd never wear a uniform... on the principle that the Russians would shoot me on principle, principle!

Suddenly, using dodgy BBC effects, UNCLE ALBERT's face fades onto GRANDDAD's.

GRANDALB: Y'know, once 'pon a time tugs used ta cam app the rivah. Banarnahs from Canada, tobbacah from Jamai'ca! We put a sign... 'You can break our 'earts, Hitler... but not our 'omes fit for 'eroes!'

DEL: Cor bliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimey.

INT.FALLOUT SHELTER.OOH, HOURS LATER!

ROD: Just banged out another pipe-pigeon, Del! Batteries' getting low!

DEL comically swallows his mouthwash rather than spit it dahn the khazi.

DEL: Listen, Frankenheimer, 'ow long do we 'ave to stay in 'ere? Cam on, Eisenstein, 'ow much supplies? GSEs an' maffs!

ROD: Well, with a going wind, close to dah docks... 5000 gallons water, 10000 tinned food, 1000000 'air batteries' ... 2+2=4... I reckon the show will run for abaht 22 years!

DEL+GRANDAD: 22 YEARS?!

ROD: Yeah, give or take a character!

DEL: If yoo fink oim stayin' in 'ere feh six series an' many specials wiv yoo an Granddad and a chemical khazi (sprays DDT at khazi), you've got another thing camming, Pedro!

ROD: Y'can't go out, Del! Strontium 90!

DEL: I don't care if it's Strontium Dog! And yeh I know Tharg, Rodney... 2000 AD editah!

ROD: That radioactive rain will metamorphosize us into shambling, vacant, sub-human zombie muties, dragging our 'eels amang the debris that wance woz society!

DEL: Stanf'd Bridge, Millwull fans, Sarfend, West 'aaaaaaaaam!! Bed time!

ROD: We need to be perfect specimens, Del, replenish y'species!

DEL: Dirty littul sod! I fancy the one with precisely three ear-lugs and and eye under it's arm - coz I don't fancy yours much, badaboom-tish! You go aht with mutants anyway, Rodney... that wan you took to market the other day, 'it' were facking mingin'!

ROD: Yeah, 'it' was a bit fucking ragged, women are things! But seriously, Del, there's some lovely underage schoolgirls app at Sears & Roedean!

DEL: You dirty little sick pervo paedo Savile cant! Nar goddah sleep! Nytol!

GRANDDAD puts his hat on his face.

GRANDDAD: 'War iz 'ell'. Randolph Scott said that. Or was it Slim Pickens?

ROD: It were Headley Lamarr, werenit? Night, John Boy!

DEL: WILL YOU TWO SHAT APP AN' GODDAH SLEEP!

Quiet pause.

DEL: Rodney? LOOK at me as I speak! Y'know abaht that hockey school... nah, nah, nuffink loike thaaaught... but they got big connections up there... if it's legal for me to marry a 17 year old, sam bird 10000th in line to the frone, splash a Brut, steak meal, could end up King! Mustique.

ROD: Hur hur! Yeah, that's a real mindbender that iz, Del!

DEL: Yeah, yeah... whip rand there a bit sharpish, heugh heugh... then again, touch of the old Strontium Dog, could end app az Queen, heurgh, heurgh!

ROD: Wiv Granddad installed as Queen Mum, giggle!

DEL: Nah nah, see wee got plenty a lead in the pencil... when dem ol' missiles start flying and all the people rannin' rand like MAD MICE... we'll be tacked up safe in our littul sheltah!

EXT.FALLOUT SHELTER.DAY?NIGHT?

DEL (voice): Pretty shrewd, brov... safe as 'ouses, brov... SAFE AS WENDY 'OUSES!

(the camera pulls back to reveal that THEY'VE ONLY GORN AND BUILT THE SHELTER ON TOP OF THE FACKING ROOF!)

ROD (voice): I think Uncle George might be mentioned in The Frog's Legacy.

End theme!

This unusable picture depicts the deleted moment
when Deltoids, Rodknees & Grandbums left the shelter!

[DangledTeeth]

Rodney, You Rapist Plonker

Int. Trotters' Towers

Grandad: Rodney ain't 'alf been farny since 'e gort 'ome.

Del: Yeah? In what way, Grandad?

Grandad: Rodney was swea'ing and shaking.

Del: Ah, don't worry, Gerrandad. It's the wanking season.

Grandad glances at Del as a way of saying 'talk of the devil' as Rodney enters

Del: Alrigh' Rodders?

Rodney (Half-hearted): Mhm? Oh yeah, could not be better. Ha-heh.

Grandad (Through rolled-up newspaper): ZEE WOT I MEAN?

Del: Come on, Rodney. Sammink's bovriling ya. Tell yer Uncle Del Boys.

Rodney: Aoh, it's probably nothin'. I was imbibing a quantifiable amount of alcoholic sherbalerts with the gents, namely Michael Algernon Pearcington and Jevon Faunus Ephraimley, at the piss-up pavillion.

Del: And then whallappened?

Rodney: One was suitabled fucked on the jive water, therefore one tottered back to one's abode and perchance discovered an inebriated woman - SHE STANK AV BAOOZ - ensconced on a wall.

Del: This is a very interesting story, Rodney. But make it quick coz there's a programme I wanna catch on da BBC2. What that programme is I cannot say, as DangledTeeth was born when Uncle Albert makes his de-but, so 'e's 'ardly gonna make a reference to an early 80s 'it TV show.

Rodney: So anyway, this drunk slapper - SHE STARNK OV BOOZE - asked me abaht a bus route that ended in the 1970s, and she got 'ysterical. I tried to calm 'er down, y'knah...

Del: How did you go about that?

Rodney: I reassured 'er, or tried to, by saying I was a professional rapist.

Del: YOU. DAN. WWWWHHHAT?!?! I don't believe this fuckin' plonker. Not even Trigger would say something so reprehensible and stoo'id. People from Looplaloop in Dimchurch are gonna point at you and say ''THERE GAOES THE RAPEMAN! THE RAPEMAN!''

Grandad: D'you reckon it will gah to court? Old Bailey?

Del: This is not the time to discuss tennis, Grandad. And I don't fancy a glass of Irish cream. I could do with a paira aces roight nah, though.

Audience (Laughing): BAVALUFRAFAAAH!

Grandad: No. I meant a legal court. And Old Bailey, not Baileys.

Del: Ooaaoh, I see what yer mean now. Oh yeah, I do think it'll go to court (Posh Carribean accent) This iz the kehse of di Peckharm Pounsah.

Rodney (Upset, faint midlands accent): The Peckham Pahncer?! I can't bohlieve you're saying this ta moy.

Del: Ah no, that's not me, Rodney, that's the press who'd say those things... either that or Rapeney Trotter.

Rodney: I didn't tatch 'er, Del - honest!

Del: Alright, Rodney. I believe yer. This is ganna take some workin' aht. What'd she look like?

Rodney: Erm... older than me. Big furry coat, black skirt, erm... tights... and she 'ad blonde 'air

Del has a contemplative expression

Del: Did she call you 'my lovely'?

Rodney: Yes. Why? Do you know 'er?

Del has a look of awe on his face, he slowly walks towards the drinks cabinet

Rodney: Del! Del!

Del: You know who that is, don't ya?

Trigger: Jimmy Savile?

Del: JJJJIMMY SAVILE!? That is our mother!

Rodney: Wh... you're saying that bonkers lady is our Mum?!

Del: She's just gotta be, Rodney. Think of the other Only Fools episodes where Mum is described like this sozzled caow whom you've perhaps raped.

Rodney mouths 'Only Fools' at Grandad, Grandad goes sour-faced and shakes his head

Del: Come on, let's go dan to meet 'er.

Ext. Street. Night

Del approaches Blossom/might-be-Del's-dead-Mum

Del: Hello, sorry to bother you in this dark hour of night. I believe you are our Mother, Joan Trotter. Can you assure us it's you, Mum? With the utmost eloquence, please.

Blossom: HOW MANY SANCTIMONIOUS MATHS EQUATIONS CAN YER GET DOWN YA PANTS WITHOUT BOTHERING THE JUMBLE SALE? LET'S IGNITE LOPSIDED ANGLICANS FOR CUSTARD, BINKY! YUBBA ROOKA! (Makes her eyes bulge and sticks tongue out) PRRRRP!

Rodney anticipates an answer by looking at Del and Grandad

Del: Yeah, that's definitely Mum.

Grandad: She's more nuttier than a pair of testicles in a KP factory.

Trigger: NODDARF!

Del: Trig? What are you doin' here?

Trig: I dunno. I simply tagged along.

Del: 'ang ab- just a minute. Speaking of 'tagged', she's got a name necklace around her Gregory.

Grandad: Oh yeah, Del. (Surveys Blossom's necklace) BLOH-SERM!

Del: Ohhh, we've solved da fackin' Jimi Mistri. All this time it was barmy Blossom - rapist accusator extraordinaire - from the nutahse.

Rodney and Grandad briefly exchange looks of unease

Rodney: Erm, we've got a bit of a confession to make, Del. Tell-the-truth time, actually. Confessions of a market trader's brother/apprentice plus Grandad without any 70s-style shagging and innuendo.

Grandad: Yeah, we both knew it was Blossom all along.

Rodney: We done it as a wind ahp.

Grandad: We were only thinkin' of you, Del

Trigger: NO' 'ALF!

Del: You were Only Fools and Horses thinkin' of me? Youuuu (approaches with menace before warmly placing his arms around their necks) trio of cunts. Ha ha ha ha. Oh, what am I gonna do with you three, eh?

Rodney: Yeah, heh heh hah

Grandad: We don't need no mental birds.

Del: If ya say so, Grandad. Ha ha.

Rodney: Everything'll be back to normal.

Trigger: Del Boy, I've burnt your pizza.

Del: See what I mean.

Sullivan: WE'VE GOT A LOAD OF COKE, GALLSTONES, SECOND-HAND KITES AND ARTICHOKES. AND DOG THAT GOES WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!

[Glebe]

MY STARS, BUT THOSE DARN RUSKIES DURST APPROACH! - EPILOGUE.

ROD: 'ere Grandad, di'n't yoo sell arms durin' the Spanish Civil War?

GRANDDAD: WODDA YOOOO KNOW ABAHDIT?!

DEL: Nah nah, Rodney... his was not to reason why, his was just to buy and sell - ABWUHAHAHA! (all lips)

GRANDDAD: Night, Grandma!

DEL: Anyway, as I say when them ol' bombs start flyin' we'll be safely tucked!

There is a sudden switch to 16mm film, as RODNEY turns to address you, the audience.

ROD: Would you know what to do 'in the event'? Call now for your FREE fallout shelter![nb]Terms and conditions apply.[/nb]

[DangledTeeth]

The Frog's Legacy

Sullihurst: Steeper soggy bin the corset. Alf fend the soot cape front the map

Int. Nag's Head

Del: Michael! Have I got a bargain for you.

Mike: What is it this time?

Del: I have got this marvellous compu'er. It's got a screen. It's got an electronic display. It comes with a keyboard.
It's got RAM, lamb and, er, Babycham

Mike: Speaking of drinks, Del, I've got to dispense some for the pun'ers.

Del: Now come on, Mike. Don't be a landlord all yer life.

Mike: Okay, what does all this RAM stuff mean?

Del: It er... ahem. it... it meEeEeaAAans... tell 'im, Rodney.

Rodney: Well in layman's term it can record all yer business deals.

Mike: That's exactly what I wouldn't want it for. Couldn't you sell one to Trigger?

Rodney: Trigger?! He couldn't direct a seagull to a light switch, 'im.

Del: And I've just 'ad a lightbulb moment (winks at the camera, Rodney's eyebrows twitch) Trigger's so daft he'll buy my wares.

Rodney: Top idea, Del.

Del: Let's do da bizzo, Solly. (Approaches Trigger) 'ello, Trig.

Trigger: Wotcher Del.

Del: Would you be interested in buying thissss computer?

Trigger: No thanks, Del. It looks like a telly combined with a typewriter

Del: I know, y'see, it can record all yer data, peseta and Hungarian luncheon meat.

Trigger: Nah, I don't reckon I'll need one.

Del: You can buy a bag of fish and turn it into an aquari-

Trigger cuts in and shakes Del's hand

Trigger: Sold! (To Dave) That's the woy ta do business, Rodney.

Rodney: Yes, you've made a good purchase, Trig.

Trigger: You seem to know a lot about computers, Dave.

Rodney: As a matter of fact (OFAH) I do, Trig. I've been doing a computer degree science degree

Albert: And failed like a cunt.

Rodney: I did not fail like a cunt!

Trigger: So you did fail but not like a cunt?

Rodney: N- uh, ye- I mean no. I didn't fail it, my tutor said to focus on the theoretical side of things.

Del: What he meant by thaaaat was 'get your plonker hands away my contraption, with your plonky fucking hands, you plonker'.

Rodney: Thanks for those encouraging words, Del. If I pass that course I would get a diploma, which would get me a real job instead
of hanging about with that suitcase. (To Trigger and Albert) Do you know what he's been getting me to do? He's been getting me to pretend to have a bent back so 'e can run this red bike light across it, then I act like it's worked.

Trigger: I'll 'ave one.

Rodney: But you don't even own a... yeah, ten quid, please, Trig.

Trigger: That's the way uh do business, Del.

Del: A brillyunt buy you've made there; you won't be dissapoin'ed, Trig.

Trigger: Oh, I won't mind.

Del: Eh?!

Trigger: It's a wedding present for my niece Lisa. You remember 'er?

Rodney: Oh yeaaaah. I liked 'er.

Del: Ha ha ha ha. (Realises, horrified) AND ME!

Trigger: You're all invited to 'er wedding.

Del: JAVVLY JABBLY. I'm going to the market

Del attempts to exit

Mr Jahan: Mr Trotter!

Del: Ah, Mr Jahan. Good to see you, me ol' sahn.

Mr Jahan: That computer you sold me is shit.

Mike pulls a face

Del: Ah, most of the good'uns are. Nah, no, you jusssst need to give it time, eh. Press all the roight battons.

Mr Jahan: But it blew up!

Del: Yes, y'see, it's not gin-proof, 'cause gin's a funny thing. GIN! Ha ha ha ha. (Del's laughter quitens, Mr Jahan has a
blank expression) Funny, as in 'odd'. And funny, har har, ya know. Funny. (Defeated) Ooungh, forget it.

Mr Jahan: I guess I shall have to, Derek. But I won't forget about a loss in my staff. Where am I going to get a chief mourner from?

Del (patting Mr Jahan's back): You never know your luck, Mr Jaharp. You never know your luck.

Mr Jahan: Are you saying you know a replacement?

Del: Yes. My brother Rodney over there.

Mr Jahan: Great! I'll tell him the good news.

Del: Oh, no-no-no-no, nort on yer Nelly. We'll keep it a secret, eh.

Mr Jahan: Okay, Derek. Tell him to arrive at 9am Monday

Del: I will, Mr Ja-arse. Yes... I can't wait to see his little face.

Del moves towards Rodney

Del: Rodney! I've only got you a job, and it involves a computer.

Rodney: Aoh, cosmic! When do I start, and where is it?

Del: It's next Monday. You know that shitty place at Bridgedown Road?

Rodney: The dirt-encrusted funeral service with that disgusting alleyway?

Del: Yeah, well opposite there's that office with modern architecture, where all those uniform-wearing tarts work.

Rodney: Yeah...

Del: That is the sight you're going to witness each time you pop out for lunch and finish your shift.

Rodney's face drops

Albert: Hoh-hueh-urh-heurgh!

Rodney: I dunno what you're laughin' at, Albert. You've been promoted as the cockbollock with the creaky back.

Int. The Wedding Reception, Hall

Lisa: Thank you for such a wonderful service, Vicar.

Andy: It was superb. Thank you.

Vicar: The pleasure was all mine.

Andy: Why do most one-off actors on this sitcom speak with received pronunciation?

Vicar: I hehven't the fehntest idea.

Del: Vi'ar!

The Vicar appears startled and mildly disappointed

Vicar: Oh, hello Derek. Thehnk you oncccce again for the lift.

Del: Oh, le weit clunge, as they say in Taipei. I've left a computer at your HQ.

Vicar: Whatever for?

Del: You can type up your hymns and the Ten Commandos

Vicar: Commandments

Del: Yeah, you've got your tomar-ah sauce, look. Fuckin' good spread of grub.

Vicar: No, not condiments, Derek. It's the Ten Commandments.

Del: Oh, w'yeaaaah. I knew ThaAaaAAAat.

Vicar: I don't think I'll require the services of a computer.

Del: Two weeks' approval. (To OOV woman) Alright darling?

Albert stands near a window. Rodney brings a sherry over to Albert

Albert: Cheers, Rodney. This used to be my stomping grarnd.

Rodney: What are you doin' looking wistfully out of this window at your age?

Albert: Reminds me of DOORIN DOH WOH, yah, Tabaccah Raoad. Kids pushin' 'oops along with sticks; ships in the wa'er; bananas from Sainsbrees. Ragged muffins from the baker. Dear Tyrannical Austrian, you can break this window... but you cannot break our 'earts.

Rodney: I bet you've had some laughs around here, eh.

Albert: NOLLARF! I was on board HMS Anecdote and the skipper...

Rodney: Albert, I think I've heard it before. Did you sink the fucker?

Albert: Yah!

Del moves to Rodney

Del: I don't know why you listen to 'im.

Rodney: Moment of weakness, I suppose.

Boycie and Marlene wander over

Marlene: Bit upmarket, innit.

Boycie (Referring to Del and Rodney): Surprised to see you two he-yar.

Del: Yeah, someone's gotta pinch your wife's chuff pillows (Del touches Marlene's ARSE)

Airhorn: VWWOAP!

Marlene: Wooh-op.

Boycie: Do you moind!? We are an apostrophe away from a civilised wedding do.

Del: Yeah, and the colon's standing right in front of us

Del, Rodney and Marlene: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Boycie glances at Del and Rodney's present

Boycie (Behind a condescending smirk): And this little bundle, somewhat professionally wrapped in near-equal 'alves with two different coloured strips of paper, is from you?

Del (Proud, defiant): Yes.

Boycie: And what have you bought the happy couple?

Rodney: Tenko plates.

Del turns sharply to face Rodney and puts on a false smile

Del: Erm, that's right. Ten Co plates. Yeah, it's got the Ten Commandments on it.

Rodney (Half-hearted): Yeah.

Boycie: Oah. We've bought them, erm, what was it again, Marloiine? Oh yes: Ming dinner plates.

Del: Put the two together and whaddya get? Minger plates.

Marlene: Ha ha.

Rodney: Good portmanteau, Del.

Del (Glances at his and Rodney's drinks): Oaah, that's what this is. I thought it was called a cosmopolitan.

Rodney appears bewildred

Boycie: Exit.

Marlene: Break-dancers.

Boycie and Marlene further move in to the hall

Del: Watch this. ATCHOO! (Throws his carnation on the ground and stamps on Boycie's present) Thou shalt stampeth on snobby cunt's wedding present. Who dares he wins, Rodders.

Rodney looks on open-mouthed at a mingling Del

Int. Opulent Hall. Night

Disco lights are emitted through an open set of doors. Trigger, Boycie, Mike and Rodney are standing and chatting. Aunt Rene passes through

Trigger: Aunt Rene, do you wanna drink?

Rene: Jast a small wan. I've got orders from Lisa that Timothy Dalton lookalike's family doesn't want me to get fox-hunted in front of 'is family. I dunno 'oo they think they are. Big top 'ats and genitaelia.

Albert enters from the dance hall

Trigger: Here's Uncle Albert from the past.

Rene: Uncle Albert Trotter. Aw dan't believe it.

Albert: Allo Reney, girl. 'ow yer goin'?

Rene: I thought you went down with the Logsurfaiupzaboof.

Rodney (quietly): 80p said he did.

Boycie (In background): Ha-agh-egh-egh-agh-agh!

Albert: BOOMERANG TROH-AH - always carms back! How long have you bin livin' aht 'ere?

Rene: Right after Del Boy's Mum died. I couldn't stand the stench any longer. Seaside.

Albert: I'm living back with the family, Joannie's kids.

Rene: Del ain't here, is he?

Albert: Yeah, he'll be out in minute, ain't had a drink for a while, and his script says 'e has to. Little Rodney is here an' all.

Rodney (Muttered): Oh fuck!

Albert: There he is over there.

Rene: Aoooooh! The little lav. (Embraces Boycie) Last time I saw you, you didn't 'ave that moustache.

Boycie (Quietly, to Mike): Who the bloody fuckin' hell is this silly bitch?

Rodney: No, I'm Rodney.

Rene: Oh, ain't you got tall. You don't remember me, do you?

Rodney: No.

Rene: I was good mates with yer Mum. Me and Joannie - the terrible twins (Vague smokers' laugh) Uh-heh-heh-haAGHK. I used to look after you, washed your bollocks and everything.

The Nag's Head lot give knowing nods and make suggestive noises to themselves

Rene: I used to take you out shopping to Woolworths, and once I got home I found you pinched an LP. So the next day I took you up to a sex shop in Soho. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Rodney smiles politely yet with embarrassment. Rene flagrantly leans backwards to speak to Albert.

Rene: You can see the resemblance can't you, Albert? Joannie was the estate's bike

Rodney looks puzzled

Albert: Do you fancy a dance, Reney? I can still cut a run with the best of 'em

Rene: Don't get your willy out, eh.

They move towards the dance hall

Rodney: What was that about?

Mike: Gawd knows.

Boycie: Yeah, I remember her now. She was never the full bob.

Trigger: Oi! That's my auntie you're talkin' about.

Mike: Idiocy runs in the family.

Del exits the dance hall

Del: Quick, Albert, get in there. Marlene's tryna suck the blokes' cocks

Boycie pulls a face

Del (Spots Rene): Na, no, na... no. No! No... it's not. Joan Sims from the Carry On films?

Rene: Remember me, Del?

Del: Remember ya? I'm still wankin' over the ones starring Valerie Leon, darling.

Rene: You're looking very prosperous.

Del: Oh, well, the jewellery has been good to us, ain't it, Albert?

Albert: Yeah. Life's one big slice of marzipan.

Del and Rene move away

Albert: She used to be a right raver in 'er days.

Rodney (Lecherously): Yeah? Ha ha.

Albert: Eisenhower!

Rodney: AH-HAH-HAH!

Albert: I heard the Normandy soldiers mistook 'er fanny for a trench.

Rodney: HAH-HEH-HAH-HAH!

Trigger: Who are you talking about?

Rodney: TROGGOR'S AWN-EE!

Rodney turns to the sight of Trigger

Trigger: Now, now, Dave. I may be an idiot, but I have feelings. Please apologise.

Rodney: Sorry Trigger.

Trigger: I've made my point. (Adjusts the lapels of his jacket and walks into a table)

Switch to Del and Rene

Del: It's been a while since I last saw ya.

Rene: Yeah. If things worked out a bit better you and Rodney could have been millionaires by now. I remember visiting your mum, with a bag of grapes, and she said to me 'if only I knew where he hid all the gold, Rene. My boys would be set for life'.

Del: Yes... hold up, what was that bit?

Rene: Oh, you wouldn't be interested in them. They've been eaten.

Del: Naoh, not the grapes, the fuckin' gold.

Rene: You mean you didn't know?

Del: No!

Rene: Wish I kept my mouth shut. Forget I said anything.

Del: Well I can't now. You might as well tell me now, I'll only fools and get it from someone else

Rene: Oh, alright. Your mum met him in 1959.

Del: Met who?

Rene: Frederick Robdul

The Vicar begins to exit, stops in his track and shakes his head

Del: oo's Robdul?

Rene: It's the real name of Freddo the Frog.

Del: Freddo the Frog?! Who the dipsticking fuck is Freddo the Frog?

Rene: He was a chief chocolatier at Cadbury's.

Del: And what's this gotta do with my Mum?

Rene: Your Mum, erm, became friendly with Freddo.

Del: Well yeah, she was a part-time whore

Rene: Yes. Freddo and his apprentices stole a consignment of chocolate from a rival factory. But he got 'that Friday feeling' up his arse
and it exploded. He left everything in his will to your mum, including the Gold.

Del: I'm a... baranaire?

Rene: Yeah. Fuckin' shame no-one knows where it's 'idden.

Del: That is a chokaah. (Swipes glasses) I'll get us a refill.

Del moves to the bar and notices Rodney

Del: Rodney... we're confectionaires!

Rodney: Oh, good. Perhaps now we can get a takeaway.

Ext. Market

Del: Right ladies and gentleman, this bit of red light will massage your back and your tits if you fancy it.

Market crowd: TITTER!

Del: It only requires two batteries - and they are included. (Albert shuffles in view with a hunchback) Could you please fuck off ahdovvit, sir. I'm tryna dupe these unsuspecting wallycunts into purchasing a bike light.

Albert: Sorry, nephew. It's me fah-in back, shipmate.

Del: Well can I try me Uncle Albert Soother on you?

Albert: What?! That soppy thing? Oh, alrigh'. Go on, then.

Del: I see you're a naval man, sir.

Albert stands to attention and salutes

Del (Under breath): What's he playin' at?! (To Albert) Groan! You soppy old dufferdick.

Albert: Oh, me fuckin' back, sahn.

Del: Can you feel the warm soothing rays, sir?

Albert: Yah! That's very theurapoo'ic. (Albert suddenly stands up straight) LOOKATHAAAT! I CAN STAN' AHP STRAIGH'! OI AIN'T BIN ABLE TA STAN' AHP STRAIGH' IN YEAAAAARS!

Afrika Bambaataa: We're the renegades of this atomic age. This atomic age of re-ne-gades.

Albert does the worm dance, pop-locks and spins into a pose

Crowd: WOO-AH!

Del (Turns, mumbles): I don't believe this cunt.

Man: He's Stooge McFuck!

Woman: He's part of the act.

Del: No, no. We've never met before in our lives. Have we, sir?

Albert: Nah. I was on me way to post me entry form to the Kryp'on Factor. Be seeing yer, sahn. And thanks.

Trigger is roadsweeping across the road

Trigger (Calling): Alright, Del? Albert?

The crowd disperse

Del (Defeated): Yes. Triggic, Triffer. (To Albert) What'd you do all that dancin' for?

Albert: You instructed me to get better.

Del: Yes, gradually. Not perform a scene out of fuckin' Beat Street. Gordon Bennett!

Albert: Alright. Next time I'll be more sneaky with me approach.

Boycie: Another fine day in Gotham City.

Del: Alright Boyce.

Boycie: Did Lisa and Timothy Dalston Kingsland like my present?

Trigger: No. They chucked it in the bin.

Boycie: And what about Del's gift?

Trigger: They put it in a cabinet.

Boycie: Peasants!

Del: That reminds me, think back to the 1960s. Did any of you know of Freddo the Frog?

Trigger: Reference to an old programme.

Boycie: And what about Twister lollies?

Del: They're from another planet.

A hearse drives past

Trigger: Hats off!

Boycie: Your mini cab has arrived, Albert.

Albert sneers at Boycie. A small crowd has gathered and the hearse calmly trundles through the back street

Trigger: Is that... Dave?

Del (Sheepishly): Yeah.

Rodney is wearing a mourner's outfit. He glares at Del

Rodney: You cunt. You rrrrotten CUNT!

Del: Rodney! Show some fuckin' respec-ker-t.

Rodney: You never said my job was a chief mourner.

Rodney turns his attention back to the road ahead. He's led the hearses to a van driver with a neanderthal's arse for a face

Rodney (To drivers): Could you back up, ployse.

Del: Oh, I can't watch this. What a Jubblytit! (Exits)

Boycie: Yes, I'm finding this rather upsetting.

Trigger: Do you know the people in the hearses?

Boycie: Only one of them - the 12-year-old driver. I sold him a Cortina last week. (Exits)

Int. Vestery

Del: 30 quid for the computer.

Vicar: The fornicator doesn't work, Mr Trotter. It's received a blow.

Del: Well you let an unqualified cunt try to repair it. 'ave you heard of Frederick Robdul?

Vicar: Yes. I heard you mention his name at the wedding. I hehd the duty of laying the poor man to rehsssst.

Del: Do you have burial records? And I ain't talking about vinyls of that underground noughties EDM producer

Vicar: Yes. Here's one from the mid-60s. (Del is entranced by the book) Now, about the computer, how much?

Del: Hmm?! Oh chack that fuckin' rahbbish in the bin, Vicar. Or use it as a target in some fete game.

Ext. Church and cemetery right next to a small beach

Del: I know where it's buried, Rodney.

Rodney: You do?

Del: Albert, bring a shovel.

Albert grabs a shovel and pursues Rodney and Del

Rodney: Where is it buried?

Del: It doesn't matter. The gold has expired. It has ceased to be. It is bereft of life. Goodbye, Choccccyyyyy!

Rodney: I don't understand.

Del: There are two things Joan Simms omitted - the gold wasn't currency. Thing is, she said 'all the gold', what she meant was All Gold by Terry's.

Rodney slowly closes his eyes and grimaces

Del: And Freddo the Frog is a fictional fuckin' mascot bastard cuntwank.

Rodney: Boycie was right, she was never the full Monkahse.

Trigger: Who are you all talkin' about?

Rodney, Del and Albert: JJJJOAAN SIIIMS!

Del throws pebbles at the sea

Rodney: Does Freddo look like me?

Albert: ROO-MUZ!

Rodney: Does he look like me?

Albert: A bit.

Rodney: Freddo the Frog, doesn't exist but sat his arse on a Cadbury's Crunchie. What a fuckin per-lon-nuh-nehn-kaaaah!

Rodney and Albert join Del

Del: In the words of Enoch Powell: We'll fuck off back to Nelson Mandela House in a three-wheeled yellow van.

[Glebe]

EPISODE: THE LONG GOOD NIGHT!

Opening theme!

INT.LIDL.EVENING.

DEL: 'urry app, Rodney, and get them shoppings packed! I'm meeting Raquel for a Long Kiss Goodnight, heh, at the Ritz later, and I've already had a bloody insane day, what wiv Trigger getting stabbed to death in the local baths, Boycie getting blown app in iz car dropping Elsie Partridge off at church, having to intimidate Denzil, hanging Jumbo Mills upside dahn in a meat locker, and all coz Brendan O' Shaughnessy blew app the bleedin' Nag's 'ead! All that and entertaining the Driscoll brovvers on a tug boat app the Thames, doin' a deal wiv 'em, y'see!

ALBERT: 'oos Rachel?

RODNEY: Nah nah unc, see she's supposed to represent Helen Mirren in The Long Good Friday, which really does feature Paul Barber and the Jumbo Mills guy!

INT.RITZ.NIGHT.

RAQUEL: Rodney told me he wanted to lick me all over today.

JEEVES: Pardon me Mr. Duvall, but the Driscoll brothers are upstairs and want a word.

DEL: Back in a mo darling, duty calls! You go an' wait in the taxi!

INT.HOTEL ROOM.NIGHT.

DANNY DRISCOLL: I'm pulling out of the deal Del! It's too dangerous!

HEDGEHOG (on phone): Cab, please!

DEL: Its camming to samfing when the Driscolls can't 'andle it!

DANNY: Bombs blowing app and all, Del!

DEL: Shat it, you lanky streak a paralyzed piss! The Driscolls? I've shit 'em!

EXT.THE RITZ NIGHT.

DEL gets into the waiting taxi. It drives off suddenly, throwing Del for a Burton.

INT.TAXI.NIGHT.

DEL: 'ere, where's Raquel?

DEL suddenly spots RAQUEL screaming in another taxi going the other way. Suddenly, a YOUNG PIERCE BROSNAN turns around in the passenger seat chewing gum, and trains a gun on DEL, who suddenly recognises BRENDAN O' SHAUGHNESSY's eyes in the rear-view mirror. The camera holds a CLOSE-UP as various emotions pass over DEL's face. His doom is sealed.

The End theme!

[DangledTeeth]

Motherfuckin' Nature, Moi Sarn - 1992 Xmas Special

Int. RodCass Flat

Rodney: Del's not been himself lately. Raquel's got post-natal depression. Albert's got DYOREN DOH euphWARia. And that little git Damien keeps playing O Fortuna from the stereo via his telekinetic devil powers each time I gawp in fear at the tiny tosser.

Cassandra: Poor Roddy.

Cassandra goes to suck off Rodney

Rodney: Oh yeah! That feels nice.

Phone: RINGY RINGY!

Rodney: Don't answer it! That's Del.

Cassandra: How do you know?

Rodney: That's his bastard ring.

Cassandra (Impersonating Del, poorly): Oh, knawk it orf, Roddy. Fuckin' dipsticks. It's not a custoblisable antha-chime phone bell. (In usual voice) It could be Mummy, a cold call or Mickey Melchiondo.

Rodney: It's definitely Del.

Cassandra (On phone): Hello... (Falsely pleased) Del.

Rodney (Firm whisper): I'm not in.

Cassandra: Rodney's not here, Del. (Offended) No, Del, there's nothing up with Rodney. Lots of men have a bout of cock flop!

Rodney: WHAT'S HE FUCKIN' ASKING...

Cassandra: Yes, that was Rodney. He's popped back for a shuttlecock... now he's gone off to kick a jackal up the arse. I'll tell him to get his plonky bum around to you.

Int. Trotters' Flat. Day

Rodney ruffles through a newspaper. A projectile toy hits Rodney on his head, he lowers the newspaper and stares goggle-eyed
at Damien

O Fortuna: LAIR WASP COOKIE. GRATING COO-KIES. THEY COMFORT ROYYYY SLA-TAAAAAH!

Del power-walks through to the lounge and approaches Damien

Del: 'e's a little crah-kah.

Rodney: Cosmic.

Del: Kitchen meeting in the boardroom, Rodney.

Int. Kitchen meeting in the boardroom, Rodney

Rodney: You seem to have lost your get-up-and-go, Del.

Del: I've got a letter from the council which tells me I own this flat - and the mortgage is bigger than the rent.

Rodney: Right. That's why.

Albert enters, he's clasping a bowl, and has porridge pelted over his face

Albert: Del! Lih-ohl cant chacked 'is breakfost o'er me.

Del: Now I'm gonna caunt ta thir'y-six, and if that breakfast ain't off your fizzog by the time I turn rahnd, I'm gonna sharve
this spoon roight ahp your....

Rodney's Arse: PORRRRP!

Albert: Can't you jast scoop it off me face and put it back in the bowl (Bobs his head)

Del: If you think I'm gonna be so un'ygienic, you've got another thing cammin.

Judas Priest: YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER THING COMIN'!

Del appears startled at the sudden sight of the group

Del: Gordon out of Thomas the Tank! As much as I lav Bri'ish Steel I'm gonna have to ask you to leave, Mr Halford
and band members. Now, I'm ganna caunt ta 46.5 milliseconds, and if you Birmingham heavy-metallers ain't out of diz fleaaht
by dah tarm I turn arahnd, I'm gonna sharve my Great-Uncle rart op your...

Distant Train: PWWOOAAARRRP!

Albert devours a sandwich that Del prepared

Del (Unimpressed, places a glass bottle on kitchen surface): Heinz toma'o ketchup?

Int. Lounge

Raquel: Letter from the council, Del. Clean up the allotment. Fuckin' health hazard, son.

Del: I will, darling. On yer animated elephant! Don't you worry.

Raquel: And clear out all those Bananaman posters, the Chilliwack LPs and that diving suit out of Damien's old room.

Del: Come on, Albert and Rodney. Off we fuck.

The Allotment

Albert: Del!

Del: Oah! You almost made think you were Sean Connery with a pipe and blow dart.

Albert: There's some rubbish over there.

Del, Albert and Rodney walk across to a group of drums containing toxic waste

Rodney: Ergh, this is volatile. Fuckin' stinks.

Trigger passes by with his dust cart

Trigger: Alright Del, Albert, Dave?

Del: You're an expert on this lark, Trig. Can you tell us what it is.

Trigger surveys the containers

Trigger: It's a pile of drums.

Del: Oh well, Columbo's solved it, look. Gordon Bennett!

Trigger: You'll have to take these to the waste disposal unit. There's one that's open 24 hours down Stamford Road.

Del: Good idea, Trig. We'll put 'em in the van. But we've got no room. How are we gonna shift this lot?

The Transworld Courier Service van zooms past

Denzil (Calling): Del! Rodney!

Del, Rodney and Albert (In unison): Denzil.

Trigger: Black Dave.

Allotment. Night

Denzil: Bohloddy hell, Del! This fhockin' stenks!

Del: Well what do you expect from sammink that's been dahmped!? A pleasing scent emana'ing from a neglected consignment of pot porry?

Denzil: I ain't touching this shit, Del. It's probably got an ear infecshernnnnn

Del: Oh shut up, you taaaart! It's only fools and gunge.

Denzil: What sort of gohnge?

Del: What do you mean (Impersonates Denzil) 'wurt sorta gernge'. It's gunge, all gunge is the same, innit.

Denzil: No. There's that toy stuff y'can put through the vents at the top of the Ghostbuster HQ playset (To camera) sold at all
good Argos, Index and Toys 'R' Us branches for the price of £19.99. (To Del) And there's the deadly type of it. It could be
concorde fuel.

Del enters the shed

Del: No, it ain't concorde fuel. It's anti-freeze from the Starship Thunderbird.

Denzil: Whatever it is, I'm not lifting it.

Del: You don't have to, Denzil. Del Boy will.

Del exits the shed, wearing the deep-sea diver suit. Denzil and Trigger gaze in astonishment

Ext. Street. Night

Denzil, Del and Trigger are seated inside Denzil's van. Del's in the deep-sea divers suit

Trigger: It's shut.

Del: I thought you said it's open 24 hours?

Trigger: It is, if you have the key.

Denzil: And have you got the key, Trigger?

Trigger: Yeah, look (Trigger shows Del and Denzil a key-ring with 'Stamford Road' printed across)

Denzil: Jost a second... (Pokes his head out of the window and squints at the distance) This isn't Stamford Road. It's fhockin' Stamford Bridge.

Trigger: Oh, sorry.

Del: Last time I let you give directions. Trigstick, Dipper!

Denzil: Any more mishaps and we're all gonna kick-off.

Del: I know what you mean, Denzil. (Nods towards Trigger) I feel like kicking a pair of balls, might come into contact with a tackle at the same time.

Int. Posh Supermarket. Next day

Rodney: This supermarket is owned by that mate of mine whom I mentioned, Miles.

Del: Eh? That's the first time I've 'eard of him. This version is quite short and patchy compared to the actual episode. It's been well and truly knackered, Rodders. There's no way to sort this aht.

Rodney: Yes. What a pickle.

Del: You're tellin' me, bruv. (Holds up a jar containing a large pickle) 89 fuckin' pence for 2g!

Wayne and Garth of Wayne's World pass by sideways and wave their arms with an air of mystery

Wayne and Garth: DOOD-LEE-DOH! DOOD-LEE-DOH!

Scene is distorted through a ripple effect

Int. Trotter's Flatshback. Lounge

Del: Where are we gonna get our hands of some top dosh, Rodders? Sad times.

Rodders: I've got this mate called Miles, he's big in the healthy food business. I tell ya, that bloke is going places.

Del: With two tails and a speedy blue 'edge'og for a friend, I ain't surprised.

Rodney doesn't understand the second 1992 reference

Rodney: Well, this bloke grew his own vegetables and this time today is a millionaire.

Del is entranced

Del: A milyunnaire?!

Rodney: Yes, such a financial status is the result of obtaining a million or more.

Del: And?

Rodney: And what?

Del: How do we fit into all of this?

Rodney: We don't!

Del: What'd you tell me all that veggie shit for?

Rodney: Well, I thought it'd be inspiring to hear about other people's success.

Del (Calling to the Bedrooms): Raquel, sweet'eart, you've gotta come out 'ere and listen to this. Rodney is mates with a millionaire,
while I've got a jungle of an allotment to clear up.

Rodney: That covers who Miles is. Shall we go back?

Del: Yes. Let's go, Rodney.

Rodney and Del (Waving arms): DID-LEE-DOO! DID-LEE-DOO!

Int. Miles' Supermarket

Del: Where were we? Oh yes. (Holds up a bag of carrots) 59p for a bag of glow-in-da-dark parsnips! It's quite expensive for the early 90s

A man dressed up like a rich gardener greets Rodney

Miles: Hi, Rodney.

Rodney: Alright, Miles. (To Del) This is who I was talking about.

Del: Alright, son.

Miles: Yes, hello. What do you think of the shop?

Rodney: You've got a great range. In one word: impressed.

Del: In one word: fuckin' expensive, son!

Miles: Fuckin' expensive?

Del: 72p a bottle!

Miles: That's natural mineral water. I happen to be in Swans.

Del: Oh, the Spa Water And Natural Springs committee?

Miles looks at Rodney

Rodney: No, he means he's the drummer in the relentlessly dull noise-rock group.

Del: What do you feed them on, your ananacrononyms?

Miles: Sorry?

Rodney: They're not ducks.

Miles: I must dash, Rodney. It's been... real.

Ext. Allotment. Day

Denzil and Trigger are digging away.

Del sits on a deckchair alongside Albert and sips a can of beer

Del: Go off on your lunch, lads, you've earned it.

Trigger and Denzil exit

Rodney: I had a call from Miles at the flat.

Del: Yes, he's coming down to help me grow some carrots.

A really old-looking Citroen C2V draws up, Miles appears

Del: Miles, glad you could make it.

Miles: I thought you had land.

Del: It was either this place or my flat's balcony. Ha ha.

Miles: What's that steady flow of water I can hear coming out of an extended length of rubber?

Del: That'll be the Peckham Spring.

Miles: How enthralling. I could get this tested at a lab and sell it.

Del: You mean to say I can earn a large sum of money from mass-production of this water?

Rodney (Mumbled): By fuckin' George, I think he's got it!

Miles: Yes. I'll need a container.

Del: I've got just the thing in me executive case. Here's a test tube that I bought in Mothercare. (Hands it to Albert) You know what you need to do.

Albert: Leave it to me, sahn.

Miles: No, perhaps I ought to go.

Del: Oi! Oi! Oi! He's a war hero. He fought for the Peckham Spring.

Rodney: Shahlaaahp!

Miles: No, I insist. After all, I am the expert. (Albert stands and gives in, Miles removes the bottle from Albert's hand. Miles plods over to the Peckham Puddle)

Del: Well that's that scheme naused up. And it's fuckin' hot.

Rodney: Just remove that divers helmet, Del. Why have you got it on?

Del: In case one of those spring onions bounced aht the grahnd and whacked me in the face.

Int. Trotters' Flat. Morning

Rodney: Miles' water-examining lot didn't approve the water?

Del: No. Jubbly fuck! I got the letter this morning.

Rodney: It's best it wasn't approved, Del.

Del: How'd you work that one out, Rodney?

Rodney: Welllll, using a famous brand to go in that baby bottle for Miles' lab experts to test. Say it was approved, you'd have constantly used our tap in order to produce large quantities of stock. The waterboard would catch on quick to the source of where the 'Peckham Spring' shit came from, and we'd be slung in to the nick. It's far-fetched, Del.

Del: Yeah. I suppose yer right, Rodders.

Del pauses with a wistful expression, a smirk appears on his face

Del: THASSIT, RODNEY!

Rodney: What?

Del: Where you said about 'the source' and about 'shit'. I've thought of a right little earner.

Ext. Market

Del: Ladies and gentleman, how would you like to purchase this cat shit-covered soil from my allotment? £100 a sack. And I'm throwing in this opened bottle of tomato sauce free for the first buyer. Yep, two for you sir. Here's yours, darling.

Rodney is taken aback

Sullivan: BUSHBESHBOISHBUSHSHBUSHBESHBOASH!

[DangledTeeth]

Series 1 Episode 3 - Cash and Tikka Masala

Sullivan: FETCHA BOOT FACE FRONK JAPAN!

Del: Rodders, I'm a bit pissed. I'm gonna do a deal with this Indian bloke, so please could you remain with me as back-up.

Rodney: I will.

There's a stand-off between three Indian men

Mr Ram: Whad's this cunt doing here?

Vimal: I vill nut do a deal with this scum.

Mr Ram: My friend has a black belt in karate.

Mr Ram's turban-wearing bodyguard does overexaggerated movements and dramatic cries

Del: STING AND THE POLICE!

Turbaned Heavy turns his head. Del foots him in the nads

Turbaned Heavy grabs his BOLLOCKS and winces. Del puts a sympathetic arm across his neck

Del: Gaw, wha' 'appened, Mr p**i?

[Only Fools sticker icon] - Sullivan: WAWDO ERNLEE FOOHZ AND NORPSES WOH

GOLD ticket-churning graphic 'FUCKNOZZLES'

-

Joss Stone Rita Ora: MOOOH ROOOH MEKKIT UHLA WAAAAAAAAAAY!

BUY THE SAMSUNG GALAXY S6

-

A woman sits with a dog in front of a laptop

Dog: FUCK! FUCK!

Voice: There are many offers on offer. So don't just look at Trip Advisor...

Dog: FFFFUCK!

Voice: ...at Trip Advisor.

-

Audrey Hepburn with gigantic eyebrows steals a man's hat and gets in a car, and smiles with elation

Voice: Mooooooon rrrrri-veeerrr. Wi-derrrrr than a miiiiile.

Caption: WHY EAT CHOCOLATE? IT LOOKS LIKE SHIT!

-

A man with a small blonde perm drives a moped through Paris. Background music: Landscape - Einstein A Go-Go

Voice: Brendan saved money on his car insurance. And he feeeeels UR-PIIIIIK!

The camera pans down the street and stops at Andy Pipkin rising out of a wheelchair

Andy Pipkin: You're so Money Supermarket. I WAN' THA' ONE! YARWAHKNOEH!

-

GOLD ticket-churning graphic 'MILKDOMES'

[Only Fools sticker icon] Sullivan: FUCKIN' LAAAA-LA!

Ext. Hotel

Del: We've been Sean Connedery, Rodders. I feel like some grub.

Rodney: Let's get a curry to celebrate. Couple of naans and samosas will go down well. Hah-hah-hah.

Del looks annoyed

Rodney: No, no, I was jokin', Del!

Del lobs a Buddha statue and makes it pause mid-air

Drums: BAP-TAP-TUH-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAPADATAPDATAPDAPDA-BAP-A-BOM-BAP-A-BOM-BAP-A-BOM-BAP-A-BAP

Sullivan: END THEME MUSIC

[Glebe]

EPISODE: THE LONGEST NIGHT EVAH!

Oh! The openings theme tunes!

EXT.SHONKY SUPERMARKET.EARLY EVENING.

INT.DODGY MART.EARLY EVE.

DEL, ROD & ALBERT are at the checkout.

CHECKOUT GIRL: Two pand fifty, Del.

DEL: 'Ordinary girls, supermarket clothes, who think it's very clever to be cruel to you...'

EXT.WONKY FOREIGN SHOP.EARLY EVE.

DEL: In foocha we shall shop at Patel's Mini-Mart, 8 Ace £1.49!

ROD: Albert, y'bloody trolley dolly, me legs!

JIM BRANNING: Excuse me lads, accompany me to office!

DEL: It's Jim Branning off the Eastendahs! 'ows Dot?

JIM: I'm not in it anymore, in the future!

ROD: Millionth castamah, Del!

INT.MANAGER'S OFFICE.EVE.

MR. FAWLTYSON (on phone): Entrecôte rioja for dinner, Sybil, you don't say?

JIM: Got these reprobates, Mr. Fawltysir, sir!

FAWLTY: Yoo ain't got no bill tah prove it, knocked off jewellery, watches, press this button, security!

DEL: Lookit 'im, all 'tache an' teef!

INT.DODGYMART.EVE.

LENNOX LEWIS: Hello there, don't mind if I do, booze, fags 'n mags!

SHEILA AT THE CHECKOUT: Sir, it's Vas Blackwood, cousin of Richard who was once Naomi Campbell's step-brother!

JIM: It's alright, Shelia, I've clocked 'im!

LENNOX: Rothmans, put 'em on me account!

SHOP LADY: Come back here, you black thief!

EXT.BADMART.EVE.

JIM: 'ello, 'ello, 'ello, Vas Blackwood, cousin of Richard, who was once step-brother to Naomi Campbell!

LENNOX: Jim Branning from 'Enders! Indeed, me cousin is in it nah 'imself! 'ows Dot, mate?

JIM: Not in it anymore. You're nicked, Blackwood!

INT.CHEAPSHOP.EVE.

LENNOX: I iz got the kleptomania! Last week I come out Woolworths with Strepsil binoculars and a roof rack for a Reliant Robin! Please don't lynch me! Not the office! I'm too young to felch! HEEEEELLLLLLP!!

INT.MANAGER'S OFFICE.EVE.

DEL: Stop damaging y'teef wiv that pencil, Fawlty - I'll ram my fucking fist dahn yah fucking throat, right 'ump!

LENNOX: Alright, hands up, baby hands up, gimme your heart gimme gimme your heart gimme gimme!

JIM: Unlock the safe sir, don't be a prat!

FAWLTY: It's on a time lock! 8AM!

ALBERT: Cam back tamorrah, san!

LENNOX: Bladdy watch! Sixty grands in safe! Nay nay! 'ere, I've seen your face before, Del! 'and dahn for a full 'ouse! I'm a right villain, me secret is 'planning'! Nah siddahn!

DEL: I had a date wiv that Arnie at the One-Eleven Club 'an all. 'e really daz dah bizzo (does gay hand), manfs 'til I 'ave another crack at 'im!

ROD: Couldn't give a shit mate. Any Castellas going?

INT.MANAGER'S.NIGHT.

DEL: LIGHTS! CAMERA! ACTION!

LENNOX: Look I never thought I'd say this right, but... pull down the blinds! But first switch on the lights! Bladdy watch!

JIM: By jove I've got it!

LENNOX: The police have nicknamed me Shadowfax; a fast 'n fleety mystery of a fazand faces, Pimpernel! They seek 'im 'ere, they seek 'im there, that flipping elusive château!

DEL: I'd say 'ank Marvin is 'ank Marvin for a few tugs on 'is cock!

The phone rings.

LENNOX: This wasn't part of the plan!

BASILDON: It's just security, locking up!

JIM: Giz that 'ere, that's my job yeh cunt... (on phone) yep, lock up. Bye, darling.

ALBERT (whispering): During the navy, we saw all sorts of hair-trigger kids, 'es getting more dangerously agitated... danger signs in a danger kid like this! Before you know it... WOOF! Distractions, distractions!

LENNOX: WHAT YOU WHISPERIN' ABAHT?

ALBERT: Just 'ave a bit of stomach cramp, Vas, do you mind if I use Del's back massager?

LENNOX: Be my guest, be my guest, be my geuuuuuust!!

ALBERT: I feel ten years younger, Del! Fit as a fiddle!

ALBERT proceeds to jump up and do the hornpipe, then collapses from a genuine heart attack. [NOBODY REACTS]

DEL: Just let 'im lie there.

LESLIE NIELSEN: I just want to tell you all good luck. We're all counting on you.

INT.FAWLTY TOWERS.MORN.

DEL: What's that 'clunk clunk' noise?

ALBERT: Weren't me fartin' heurgh heurgh!

JIM: With proper training you need not sleep. I learnt that at Dock Green police station in the Kenya. Mau Mau.

ALBERT: Look at moi medals, Jim! During the war I seen things in the navy, merchant and royal, that would make your teeth itch, not literally, that would be hideous. BUT I NEVER SPEAK OF SUCH THINGS. DON'T TALK T'ME ABAHT SHARKS!

DEL: 'e imagines in his head that Jaws was a sticklebrick!

RODNEY reaches for the Rothmans, as LENNOX snoozes.

ROD: Fetched 'em! Anyone fancy a fag?

DEL: YOU LOLLAPALOOZA!!

LENNOX awakes.

LENNOX: WOZ GAING ON, coulda just ast for smokes - no need to thieve, heh! Well, it's all over... in thirty minutes. We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when...

LESLIE NIELSEN: I just want to tell you all good luck. We're all counting on you.

LENNOX: 'ere, Del Boy, I remembah 'oo yoo are nah, Del Trotter! You're Derek 'Del Boy' Trotter!

DEL: Your Dana Carvey, The Master of Disguise, you figure it aht wiv the GCEs!

LENNOX: Don't you remembah moi mavvah, Roxanne Jubbley?

DEL: NO! Not boxer Lewis? AKA Vas Blackwood, cousin of Richard (in Eastenders nah), who was once step-brovvah of Naomi Campbell?!

LENNOX: The very same, me mother's feet!

DEL: So wot y'doing wiv y'self these days, he arsked knowingly?

LENNOX: Dole, Del. And this OFAH lark.

DEL: Yoo ain't got no foocah and nor az Rodknees!

LENNOX: Nah, I'm too shrewd, Del! Bladdy watch!

DEL: Give it up, san. We know y'mothers shoe size by nah! Plus there's porters, fudge packers and securimen out there nar!

LENNOX. Geh away car. Geh away car.

LESLIE NIELSEN: I just want to tell you all good luck. We're all counting on you.

LENNOX: Yoo said it would be easy, Mr. Fawlty!

BASILSON: I had to do it! My wife loves Soleros, the greedy cah! She plays pool in a gazebo and wants me to do up the hotel in Torquay!

ROD: You pair met at a Tory ram jam! It was Fawlty what stabbed yah, Lennox, honest!

DEL: Chambourcy Nouvelle yogurt!

JIM: I want you to know I took this role purely for the manny! Pittance peanuts pension!

DEL: Well of course, mais oui, mais oui! Dixons of Koalar Loompa is involved! Toy gun? Fffffffffffffuck it!

LENNOX: Honest, Del!

DEL: Nah nah nah, one on the bum, no 'arm done. Dixon, give 'im a job tamorrah!

JIM: I shall immediately show you your daily duties.

DEL: And your role in 'The Long Night!' will most certainly lead on to a role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, amang ovah fings, Vas!

VAS NOT VAS: Cheers, Del! Bladdy watch!

ROD: These toilet rolls will 'ave to go straight in dah fridge when we geh 'ome!

DEL: Bread truncheon still frozen? We'll be back... millionth castamah! Bonjourno, eh?

LESLIE NIELSEN: I just want to tell you all good luck. We're all counting on you.

THE END OF THE NIGHT!

Ah! The closer themes tuning!

Warmly, Lennox and Jim met up years later, for one last heist!

[DangledTeeth]

Ashes to Corpsing

Intro

Market - Del is attempting to impress potential customers. Rodney is pressed against a wall and stares disinterestedly into the distance

Del: Rart, Genties and ladymen, I have got the bargain of a lifetime for you. I have got 10 - caunt 'em - 10 pairs of ladies tights made
of goat cheese. Now I'm not askin' yer for 100p a pair - no-no-no-no, not on your negligee - I am asking for £1, that's right: a quid. Who will furnish me with a Liz disc for these durable yet mildly stinky tights? Oi Rodney, am I keeping you awake?

Rodney: No, Del, you continue.

Del: Listen I know the Government are asking people's bravvars to be in deep thought, but this is taking the fuckin' piss, bruvney!

Rodney: I've had a lot on my mind.

Del: Yeah? Flicks aht of Pent'ouse, I'll bet.

Rodney: No. I went round Linda McCartney's gaff and Paul almost caught us at it as I politely left.

Del: 'ow did 'e know?

Rodney: He saw me leave as I walked out of there without my jeans on, rushed for time.

Del: Ha ha. Back in the U.S.S.ARSE.

Trigger approaches with his dustcart

Del: Ah, 'ello Trig. How's yer Gran?

Trigger: Haven't you heard, Del? The old girl passed on.

Del: Well of course I ain't heard, Trig, I wouldn't 'ave asked ya. Cordon Bleunett!

Trig: It's her Friday funeral. You'll come, won't you?

Del: Erm... I'm very not actually busy on Fridee.

Trig: No other wankers are goin'.

Rodney (With consternation): Wuh if you think I'm...

Del: We'll be there. Grandad will come an' all.

Trig: Cheers, Del. I'll order a cab. See you round Gran's at 11.

Del: Yes, good idea, Trig. I like 'ow you casually mentioned that divvy cah's place with significance like we know where she lived.

Int. Trigger's Gran's/Divvy Cah's 'ouse

Del: Oh look, a copy of a da Vinci! (Surveys painting) It's a fuckin' copy. Dipstick, Rodney!

Rodney: Moy? Wha' have I done?

Del: Well blardee fah'in naffink.

Grandad: You're a vulture! Looking for more gear to sell at the market.

Del: No, no, Trig's Gran left a few unwan'ed things in 'er will, see. And he's letting me 'ave erm.

Trigger: What are you havin' to drink, Del?

Del: You better wroite this dahn. I want a cappla peaches, yeah, sliced into 20 inch-long cubes, right, you drop all thaa-aat in
0.5 litres of Um Bongo. You sprinkle flakes of Bourneville over the top, and you pour a suggestion of vodka in between a rambutan.
Stir for up to 2 minutes and yer done.

Rodney: It's 'ardly an appropriate time to have a knees-up.

Trigger: The wrinkly old twat woulda loved it. She was a miserable old cow. (Looks around the room) Makes yer go cold, dunnit.

Del: Don't be like that, Trig. Gotta think of all the warmth.

Trigger: Nah, there weren't none of that, Del Boy. But there's gonna be warmth, beaches, whores by the dozen and numerous Vegas-style casinos where I'm going.

Del: Ah right, where's that?

Trigger: Ireland!

Del: Gordon Begorrah! Erm, yeah, plenty of fanny and dosh games aht there, mate.

Rodney: Why was your Gran miserable?

Trigger: Her and my Grandad didn't get on. She cheated on him once.

Grandad looks sheepish, Del and Rodney notice

Grandad: Did he ever find out?

Trigger: No. (Squints and shakes a fist) I wish I knew.

Grandad: I'll put the coats up in the bedroom

Trigger: It's the first r-

Grandad: I know where it is, that's where I banged yer Gran.

Int. Trotters' Flat. Night

Del: That confirms it. This pair of coffins are genuine Dresden!

Rodney: Oh leave off, Del.

Grandad: You ought to leave 'em alone, Del.

Del: Why, Grandad?

Grandad: Those rumours about me and Trig's Gran were true. She was alone when her husband went to war, and yer Gran had... departed. Oh no, not departed, just fucked off somewhere. Me and TRIGGOR'S GRARNOY were good company for each other. Arthur fahnd aht and 'e poin'ed at me and said: 'Trotter! You've been thrustin' yer spunk sausage in between my wife's legs. When I die, I'm gonna 'aunt ya!' And he had gypsy's blood in 'im, Del. And you know what they say about a gypsy's curse.

Del: Oh, well he may not be travelling around much now...

Grandad: No, but he's in the same fuckin' room as me.

Del: Oh, ghosts are a load of ol rabbish. I'm going to me room. Make sure the paper's there (Exits and appears in to view) Who left
this wooden dildo out here.

Grandad: Stop it, Del!

Int. Bedroom Hallway. Night

Del awakens to muffled voices in the lounge. Del rings Grandad on an early cordless phone

Phone: BLEEP BLEEP!

Grandad answers the phone. Del stands near the hallway door.

Grandad: Hello?

Del: Hellooooo Trotter!

Grandad: Fuckin' Wendy 'ouse! Ar-ar-Arthur?!

Del: Yeeeees, that is my naaaame. Back to haunt your plonker bollocks off.

Grandad: I'm sorry for fuckin' your wife, Arthur. It won't 'appen again.

Del: Too riiiiight you won't hip-punch my wife's bubblegum agaaaaiiiin, Trotterr. (Casual, less eerie) Unless of course you're a necropheliac.

Grandad: Oooh, I'm not one of them necrapakis, Arthur.

Del: Wheerrrre haaaave yoooou 'idden your money? 

Grandad: It's under me bed.

Del (Insouciantly): Nah it ain't, ar looked! (Titters into his hand)

Grandad: I ain't got much money, Arthur.

Del: Do not tell lies, you fucking old cuuuuunt. I am everywheeeerrre, Trotter! I am the malodorous chuffs in your living roooooom (Pushes out a fart). I am the National Grid (Del turns the telly on with a remote and turns a nearby light off). I am the...

Nervous Nerys pops out of the kitchen

Nerys: LAGER'S OFF!

Rodney: What are you doing?

Del, Grandad and Rodney: ARRRGH!

Nerys: WAAA-HAA-HAAAAAOW!

Del: Hilarious!

Rodney: Let's bury Arthur, Del.

Del: Good idea, Rodders.

Grandad: He was a big fan of the circus.

Del and Rodney exchange incredulous looks

Del: Bowling green it is!

Ext. Bowling Green. Night

Del, Rod and Grandad stand in a circle around the coffin laid on the green

Rodney: Now what?

Del: Lords prayer. Ahem! AH AM THE GOD OF HELL-FIRE AND I BRING YOU... FOI-YAR!

Grandad: DOOOT... DO-DE-DAAAA.

Rodney: Shut up, you two!

Del: U2? Nah, nah, it was Crazy Wank of Arthur Brahn

Grandad: Quick the lights are on!

Del, Rod and Grandad dash out of sight. The coffin is left in the center of the light.

A woman looks out of a window

Woman: James, look at this out here.

Del and Rodney pull the coffin away as the woman walks towards her friend

James: There's fuckin' nothin' there, love.

Ext. River Thames. Day

Del and Rodney are rowing a boat with the coffin open

Police Boat: Halt! Desist your suspicious activity at once

Del: Nah, it's a ritual that's part of our religion. We're disfellowshipped Taoists.

Police Boat: Do you have permission from the RA?

Del: You mean Joshua Reynolds and those arty tarts?

Police Boat: Noeeeeh! I mean THE RRRRRiver Authorities - do you have permission from them?

Del: Rodney, do we have permission from the river authorities?

Rodney: Of course we fuckin' don't, you daft cunt.

Del (shouting across): OF COURSE WE FUCKIN' DON'T Y- no, officer, we do not.

Police Boat: Then you must stop your ritual at once.

Del: Oh, right you are. (Quietly, to Rodney) Wait until he fucks off, then we dump Arthur overboard.

Police Boat: We shall escort you to the shore.

Del: Bloody great, innit, none of the bastards are abaht when you want a police boat, thahsands of the cunts when you don't want one. Have you noticed that the water copper speaks with great enunciation, RP an all thaaa-aaat?

Rodney: Urrrgh! That's the third reference to politely spoken bit-part actors in this comedy. Stop being such a trite hack, Teeth.

Me: Sorry Lyndhurst.

Int. Battersea park Station. Film

Del and Rodney stand at a platform with the coffin. A suspicious woman looks at Del

Del (Quietly, to Rodney): Blend in, Rodney. (To Woman): Chelsea FC!

Announcement: WOULD ALL COMMMUTERS WAITING ON PLATFORM 4 STAND BEHIND THE WHITE LINE. THE GATWICK EXPRESS IS
APPROACHING AND WILL NOT STOP AT THIS STATION. THANK YOU.

The train bounds through as Del and Rodney wait apprehensively

Del: FACKIN' NAAOOOOOOOW, RODDERS!

Del and Rodney push the coffin in to the path of the speeding train

Train: UUUUR-HOOOOOOOOORP!

The coffin is smashed across to Battersea Dogs' Home

Del climbs over the gate in Battersea Dogs' Home to pick up Arthur

Battersea Dogs: RAOF! RUFF! WOAAF! RUAAF!

Del: Shaddup, will ya!

Ext. Street. Day

Del admires a cement mixer. He pushes Arthur's head precariously to it until a glare from a builder causes him to stop

Del: Heh-heh, they're magic aint' they - the old Paddy washing machine.

Ext. Residential Street. Day. Film

Del and Rodney sit on the curb with Arthur sprawled across the road

Del: Now what do we do?

Rodney: We can sell 'im at the market,

Del: Yeah, yeah, that's a good idea, Rodders. (Mocking tone) Ladies and gents of this market. 'ow would you like to purchase
a humming dead bloke who smells like a bum log in a bonfire explosion.

Del and Rodney stand to have a discussion near a wall

A roadsweeping van drives along and pulls along Arthur by his cock

Del: Oi! Oi!

Driver: What's the matter (of fact OFAH)?

Del: You've sucked off our corpse!

Driver: Are they alright?

Del: Is he windin' me ahp or whaaaat?

Rodney: Nah, no, no, it's not corps as in soldiers. It's a corpse as in dead.

Driver: Oh, well, the mix-up is understandable. Believe me when I say soldiers will get a blowjob from anything.

Del: Well come on.

The driver loosens Arthurs cock from the tube

Driver: Here's your corpse. And watch where you put dead people in future. I'll have the union on to this.

Rodney and Del pull faces

Int. Trotters' Flat. Afternoon

Del and Rodney accept defeat and bring Arthur back

Grandad: That ain't Arthur, Trigger's Gran was married twice

Del: GORDON STRACHAN!

Rodney: Oh Cosdick!

Del: Oh, who fuckin' cares. Trigger's so stupid he doesn't have any emotions.

The phone rings. Del answers

Del: Trotters' Inde- oh, 'ello, Trig? How's Ireland? You what?! you're not there. Then where are you, Trig? Northern Ireland (Turns and pulls a mock-horror expression at Rodney and Albert) Erm, you know those coffins? What do you wan' me to... eh? Oh... right, Trig. Enjoy the rest of your 'oliday, wont ya. Bye, pal. (To Rodney and Grandad) Trigger's Gran had just moved!

Rodney: Then who are these two decomposing cunts?

Del: GAWD FUCKIN' KNOOOOWS!

Boycie: HAH-EGH-AGH-EGH-AGH-AGH-EGH-AGH-EGH-AGH!

End Theme

[Glebe]

EPISODE: AND THE UNLUCKY PLONKER IS... RODNEY!

Opening Musics!

INT.MANDELLER'S.EVE.

CASS: Ooh, lovely Rodney's paintings!

INT.KITCHEN.EVE.

ROD: Oh! Lovely Chardonnay!

INT.MANDELA MAIN.EVE.

ROD: There y'go Cassie, salmon sambos and a light, crisp bouquet!

CASS: Daz never Marble Arch at Dawn by Rodney Mole, age 13¾, dah iz?

ROD: Yeah, wiv a Baked Bean label f'good measure! Del an' iz Spot the dog comps! 'ere Cassandra, fancy a snog? Del's orf wiv Petulia an' Uncle wiv Elsie!

ALBERT: Gawan, tongues an' everyfing! Where's me wine? Wish painting of full bottle woz real, hur!

DEL: Evening, all! Abaht t'shag Cassandra, Rodney?

ROD: Just disgusting art, sniff!

CASS: Rodney is talented.

DEL: Nah, prefer more realism meself Rod crap ha.

INT.KITCHEN.EVE.

DEL: Just wash me 'ands in dah lettuce... 'ere, me salmon of knowledge!

AL: Give 'im a break, san!

INT.ROOM.EVE.

ROD: 'ere Del, old Petulia 'ere f'Albert, bang 'im a tenner go out, go out, go out!

DEL: Y'saucy!

INT.MIKE'S HEAD.NEXT DAY.

ROD: 'ere Cass these mags contain condom adds... we are mature, right?

CASS: I'm forever blowing bubbles!

INT.WENDY'S 'OUSE!DAY.

DEL: 'Nah respect, anything they bladdy like etc.'

ALBERT: Mockery! Oh yeah, this came from the Megaflakes people!

DEL: 'es wan, wiv Marble Arch!

INT.NAGEAD AGAIN.DAY.

ROD: Computer diploma, nah more selling crap dahn market!

CASS: Young rich and handsome, wouldn't see me for dust! But I'll drag with you for now!

ROD (in Scots accent): N'need, Cassandra! N'need!

CASS: I AM DEADLY SERIOUS RODNEY. But just to humour you... I LOVE YOU RODNEY THE CHARLESTON TROTTER.

ROD: And I you, sweet Cass.

MIKE: Worra load of old bollocks I want to fucking throw up.

DEL: Alright, everywan? Old Leslie Nielsen flogface at bar, awight? 'ere, Rodney the unlucky loser is... YOU, moi san! Marbella, 'oliday for three! Bikini line Cass! Champers, Mike!

CASS: Megaflakes do everything bigger, by George! Now off to toilets.

ROD (hugs, kisses): Please take care doing wee. 'ere Del... take a look at this...

DEL (looking at mag): Ford Escorts! NOT ACTUAL SIZE!

ROD: Del, I've just noticed the Pertwee background extra behind us. Plus a late-80's fringer!

DEL: Well, Rodney, they had a meter in the gents but it got clogged by a drachma. To the bar, for more champers!

CASS: I'm back.

ROD: Should our relationship ascend, Cass, and 1 plaz 1 equal three...

CASS: Fwoarr, too right!

ROD: Really?! Cor blimey I'm gunna get me rocks off!

DEL (shouting): YOU TWO ARE IN LACK, NEW JOHNNIE MACHINE IN LAVS!

MIKE: I'LL GET YOU SOME CHANGE, CASSANDRA!

EXT.AIRPORT RUNWAY.MORN.

The plane takes off!

Background music!

INT.MALLORCA AIRPORT.DAY.

ROD: Pour that Sangria, Jose! 'ere... dint registrar on plane, all mumsies and dadsies!

DEL: Stipulation. Under-15s comp.

CASS: They fink dah Rodney 15?

DEL: NAH NAH UNDER-15S YAH STOOPID CAH! FOUR-TEEN! Keep schtum, act, Mumsie!

CASS: Whatever else it's The Jimi Hendrix Experience. Are you experienced? Well I am!

DEL: Nah prob, they look older these days... that's my excuse!

ALAN: Alan the Perkin here, effete, white hair! Rosettes for mum Cass and dad Del, and you must be - crikey, he's a big 'un!

DEL: Mavver is a giant. Genes.

ALAN: Here's y'badge - lifetime member of the Groovy Club! Cosmic.

ROD: I don't belieeeeeve it is happening to me!

CARMEN: Where's the Rodney? Come on kid peeps, big dirty unhealthy plastic Big Mac & fries!

CASS: Dinnae drip the tomato sauce or your shirt, Rodney-san!

ROD: Et tu, Brute?

ALAN: Adults, back to the hotel for three glasses of sangria, hur!

DEL: Nice, jubbley Alan, my new best friend! (raises finger)

CASS: Take your hand off my arse, Del. We've already joined the Mile High Club.

SPECCY 13-your-OLD TRUDIE (to ROD): You like Bros?

ROD: Naw!

TRUDIE STYLER: Good, I prefer industrial and grindcore acts meself, everything from Einstürzende Neubauten to Carcass.

INT.HOTEL DEL PLONKA ROOM.DAY.

DEL: Alright? Got lotto tickets, winning woll! Prince poster on littul Rodney's woll!

CASS: Poor Roderney! He shall share the bed with you, not me, his mum!

DEL: Incest, woznames and Oedipus!

CARMEN: Is Rodney here? Junior disco! Bye.

DEL: I'm off for a wank in the bathroom.

Enter ROD, dressed like Tony Hawks.

ROD: Ho-ney, I'm ho-me!

AUDIENCE: HAHAYAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!! *applauds*

ROD: Sorry baht the band language, K'saaaandra. Get out 'ere nah, yoo dipstick!

CASS: What bad language?

DEL: I'll be out when I finish me wank in five minutes.

EXT.VERANDA.DAY.

ROD: I got bruised by a poxy lizard!

CASS: Fancy some strychnine I AM SERIOUS.

TRUDIE TYLER (from afar): Alright, Rodney, hiya! Skating, hur!

DEL (fingers crossed behind back): Gay knights! Gay knights!

ROD: Cyling, splashing, Pong... then we go to Italy to paint Parma Cathedral, according to the script!

INT.ROOM.DAY.

DEL: Pull a sickie.

ROD: Sister George is overweight! So much so, she may never join the Roly Polys!

CASS: You enjoy torture, Del.

ENTER PERKIN & CARMEN. In a brilliant sight gag, DEL grabs the drink and cigs!

ALAN: Doctored passport, please!

CARMEN: Don't forget about the disco inferno, Rodney! Chow! Arrivederci!

DEL: Stone me, let's lie low.

ROD: Go for a walk, Del. Me and Cass have sex.

DEL (peering round door): The condoms to fuck Cassandra wiv are in the flight bag, Rodney.

ROD: Dahnt warry Cass, 'es gorn nah. Get the uniform on, let's get it on!

DEL (peering round door): Rubber sheath on cock, not get cum up Cass' flange!

INT.HOTEL DEL BAR.EVE.

Background music!

DEL: Alright yoo cappla sorts, see yoo latah!

ROD (from dancefloor, gives finger to DEL): FUCK YOU, Del!

CASS: Rodney cried last night, while wanking. Weak. Gay.

DEL: 'es doing this feh you!

ROD approaches.

ROD: Fuck off Trudie!

DEL: 'aving fan?

ROD: Groovy! Nah get me a Bacardi!

CASS: I am having a great time, Roddie. Although I do wish I were on a self-catering course in the Beirut, heh!

DEL: Nah, worst 'oliday evah f'me... wan wiv Granddad woz at least filming outdoors here in England, this wan is entirely studio-bound! At least we don't 'ave to do a sort of sit-down, photo montage conga, though.

CAPPLA SORTS: Coo-ee! Del!

DEL: Oh yeah, I promised The Sorts I'd bring 'em aht clubbin' all night, then a threesome!

CARMEN: Come on Rodney, we are filming Breakin' 3: Electric Booglaoo 2!

ROD: Watch it! I'm in it!

INT.HOTEL DE RECEPTIONE.EARLY MORN.

DEL: Yawn... pint of aspirin, John-Juan!

ROD: Del! Del! Remembah yoo says we woz on a winning woll? Avalanche, moi san! WE WAN A MILLION PESATAS!

DEL: Yoor kidding! Remember my motto, Rodney, 'This time next year Rodney we'll be wan millionfth castamehs'!

CASS: It is only a million!

DEL: I don't care if it's Irish potatoes, Spanish Euros or gala luncheon vouchers!

DEL and Rodney dance like chickens.

DEL (singing): 'If I was a rich man, dadoobeedoobeedoobeedoobeedoobeedoo!!' Wait, I know there's a catch!

ALAN: Heard the good Perkin, congratumalations! No catch!

DEL: Doobie!

ALAN: Oh wait... I really regret having to spoil the fun, Derek, but... I'm deeply afraid you cannot claim a single, shining sixpence of this money!

ROD: Age related? Stoodent ID!

DEL: Nah, nah, doctored! Just remembered, samfink to do!

ROD: C'mere you!

ALAN: Oh what the fuck I'll swing it with the lottery people, you'll have your luncheon vouchers! Hurrah!

ROD: Arriba!

DEL: Geronimo!

CASS: Riiiiiiiiiiiyahyahyah!

THE HAPPY ENDING!

Goodbyes themes!

A-yi-yi-yi! The gang form a conga line from hotel to beach, where a slap-up party ensues!

[DangledTeeth]

May the Class of '62 be with you

Intro: Silver Sooony Walkman in me pocket. This theme is sung by John Sul-li-van.

Int. Trotters' Flat. Afternoon

Del: Blimeyfuck and lively jumbly! (Del is reading a note)

Raquel: What's that?

Del: It's an invitation to a school renunion - at our old school, the Wallace Fard Muhammed Comprehensive - loca'ed at the
Nag's Head party room.

Albert: Funny place to have a school in a pub. HOOO-HOOB!

Del: Naooh, Uncle, the school isn't inside th-

Del tuts and smirks at Albert. Albert does his peachy baby smile expression and make his head wobble

Rodney: Can I go with you?

Del: You weren't in my year, nor have you been invited. Of course you can go. Hah-hah-hah.

Albert: I thought in the war for that school, so I ought to gah along, too. ROO-MOZ. CONCORDE. TABACCAH RAOAD.

Del: Yes, you old plonker goat, you can accompany us.

Raquel: Don't get pissed!

Del: No, sweet'eart, we won't get pissed. (Mutters, to Rodney and Albert) Fuckin' drunk, yes.

Int. Nags Head - Party Room

Denzil: Bit of a mystery, this.

Boycie: It definitely is, Denzil.

Rodney: This is all Agatha Christie.

Trigger: I used to fancy Granny Smith.

Denzil: Trig, she was a Victoria-era Aussie.

Trigger: I know. But I'm sexually attracted to solid fruit. I love giving it a good polish. NODDARF!

Del: Just as well I weren't an orange juice baron, otherwise Trig would fancy a bit of Del Monte.

Audience: MWARF-MUH-FAV-FOV!

Rodney: Someone's invited you here, and we don't know why. Now, think who that could be.

The Nag's Head mob gaze in deep thought

Trigger: Jimmy Savile?

Del: JJJJIMMY SAVILE?!

Rodney: Well, actually, as far as schools go, he [sudden cut in the scene]

The Nag's lot start squabbling. A hand reaches around the door frame and turns the light down

A dark silhouette steps forward and a brief glare of light partially illuminates Slater's Mystery Party Organiser's face

Albert: Oo turned the lights off?

Del: Weren't me, Unc.

Boycie: Then who did?

The lights are turned back on

All: Slater!

Albert: Oo's Slater?

Slater: It's me, the former copper from To Hull and Back, Uncle Alfred.

Albert: Oo's Alfred?

Slater: I'm back in all me glory!

Trigger: Are you back in the police force, Roy?

Slater: Of course I'm not, you stupid twat. I was close to retiring before I got arrested for diamond smuggling. While I was in the slammer, I FOUND JESUS!

Del: Crucified to a bar of soap, was 'e?

Slater: Oh, you had to watch your arse in that game. Still, no trouble for me, not even the poofs wanna tub me.

Albert: Hur-eeh!

Slater: It was around that time I heard my old man had passed on.

Del: I didn't go to his fnueral.

Slater: Cheers, Del. He was a cunt. But I wanted to go to the funeral regardless.

Trigger: Why didn't you?

Denzil: For fhohck's sake, Trig. He was in nick, not a B&Q. Didn't have a fhockhkin' ladder.

Trigger: No, I thought they let you out temporarily for acts of God, weddings and such.

Boycie: WOOO! Trigger's responded intelligently for once, and we haven't got a shilling to add nor a despondent expression to pull.

Del: We won't have a piss-up with a snide like you, Slater! You fitted us all ahp on Donald Daffy Daahck charges.

Denzil: He got me to pay a £20 fine for jaywalking. It was at that moment when he got his charge book out I realised he stopped me in my lorry.

Slater: I'm... (looks ashamed at the floor) sorry, Denzil.

Denzil: Say that to the family who didn't get their kingsize bed on time.

Boycie: Yeah! An wha' about that time you put me in the cells for the night when you said one of my cars had a loose windshield?

Slater: Well it did.

Boycie: I know. But you still bought the fucker off me the next day, though.

Slater: I'm really sorry, Boycie.

Rodney: And what about that time you stopped me in the van 'cause its three-wheelness made you deem it unroadworthy...

Slater: That could have been any yellow three-wheel van with 'TIT etc' emblazoned on the side, Rodney.

Rodney: No it couldn't have. There's bahnd to be only one van. Anyone sane enough woulda shoved all Unreliant Robins off
a fucking cliff.

Del almost defends his beloved van

Slater: I'm sorry, Rodney.

Rodney: You can fuck it, Slater. (Looks left to right) Fuck it.

Del: And you got Trigger put away in that young offenders 'ome, didn't yer, for those nicked tins of Jolly Green Giant.

Slater: Deeply sorry, Trigger.

Trigger: Oh that's alroight, Roy.

Slater: Come on, chaps, have a drink with me. I'm an undertaker now. I can't do you any harm, and I don't mean you any harm.

Rodney: Alright, make it a large one, Roy.

Denzil: Yeah, Carlsberg for me.

Del: Pina Colada, Sla'er. Trigger?

Trigger: Go on, I'll have a pint of broom.

Boycie: 'ow can yer make peace with that arseholing tossbag when you did bird in a young offenders' 'ome.

Trigger: 'cause when I came out I got to go on (badly dubbed) JEREMY BEADLE Fix It.

Boycie appears bewildered

Del: Large cognac, Boycie?

Boycie: And fuckin' quick!

Int. Trotters' Flat

Del and doh lads are sprawled on the settee at Club Trotter

Music

All: With a lil bi' a this, and a lil bi' a thaaa'. Just shake your bum.

Trigger (Carelessly faces Del): JUST LIKE YOUR MUM!

Del looks wistfully to a drunk Rodney. Boycie puts his coat on and stands near the front door

Boycie: I better be off, Marlene's come to pick me up.

Denzil: I'll get a lift with you

Trigger: NODDARF! Me too.

Del: I'll bet it's not the first time you chaps 'ave 'ad a ride with Marlene. (Smiles and nods)

Boycie: HA-EGH-AGH-AGH-EGH-EGH-AGH-EGH-AGH (Stops laughing and pops his head into view from the entrance/exit hall and pulls a face)

Del looks at a photo of when the boys played football

Del: We all had... cardigans.

Trigger: Was that the Italian boy?

Del: No. There is no one we knew called Cardigan. Gordon Bennett.

Trigger: Was Gordon Bennett the Italian kid?

Del: Yes, theht wozzim, Trig.

Boycie: Cam alawng, Trigger.

Albert: Oo's Trigger? HOWUEUEEUH-HUDURWEUR!

Del: Oh, shut up, you tartcunt! Ha heh heh.

Boycie, Denzil and Trigger are about to exit but Raquel comes in

Raquel: I thought you said you wouldn't get pissed?

Del: Oh you didn't believe that few-glasses-of-diet-Pepsi cobblers did ya? Do you want another one, Rodney?

Rodney: No thanks. The Beeb have supplied us with non-alcholic lager. We've got about as much chance of gettin' fucked than
a cockless bloke in a closed brothel.

Raquel: What's my estranged husband doing here?

Boycie: Estranged 'usband?

Del: BAH THAZ SLATAAAH!

Raquel: I know who he is, Del.

Del: ...BOH THEHTZ SLA'ER!

Denzil: You were married to this slimy tit!?

Slater wakes up

Slater: That's right, Denzil.

Boycie: You mean, Del's been shacked up with a former copper's old wife?!

Del squirms

Boycie: HA-AGH-EGH-EGH-AGH-AGH-EGH-AGH. Nice one, Del Boy.

Del: Eh?

Denzil: There's noh'in to be embarrassed about, Del.

Boycie: Denzil's right. Raquel is obviously quite a catch for you, and I wouldn't say no meself. And to think old Sla'er couldn't keep
'er pleased, and now shes lives happily with his enemy - Del Boy!

Slater's face drops

Del: I suppose yer right, chaps. But no-one will wanna do business with someone who has a tenuous link with the police.

Slater: Yeah!

Boycie: Aoh, don't concern yourself, Del. Sla'er is 'istory as far as the police gaoes, 'ardly anyone remembers 'im these days. It's not like
he has any power. Even so, shagging an ex-copper's old bit doesn't make you a grass.

Del (Suddenly lightens up): Oh yeah, yeah. You're rart, Boycie.

Slater: Oh fffffuck! This was all an elaborate scheme to get access to Del's flat and blackmail him into sorting me out with a few quid
until my inheritance comes through. Well... it was nice seeing you all again. Thanks for the drink. (Poignantly exits and pops back) Oh, by the way, you're all under arrest.

Int. Police Station Office

Rodney: I thought you weren't a policeman anymore.

Slater: Let's just pretend I am.

Denzil: Well that's blohdee silly.

Slater: You'd think so, yet the Trotters will manage to get away with selling tap water without so much as an explanation, in the following Xmas special, as to how or why their illegal venture ended.

Boycie: Saoh what have you dragged as out he-yar faw?

Slater: I want the name of the mush who tubbed my Rachel

They all face Albert

Albert: Oi'm sayin' naffink, sahn.

Del: You just did, youuuu dozy old twunkt.

Slater: I wanna know who gave Rachel that bump.

Trigger: It wasn't me, Roy.

Slater: I thought as much, Trigger. You have trouble finding your fuck-flute let alone know how to use it. But that doesn't matter (of fact OFAH). You're going to be interviewed along with everyone else.

-

Slater: What did the Rachel Ravisher look like?

Del: Well 'e was tall.

-

Rodney: He was about average height

-

Slater: Did he have any distinctive features?

Trigger: No, just a scar across his nose.

-

Boycie: He was wearing a flannel on his head

-

Slater: Was he male?

Albert: Nah, he was a woman. HOBORB-BOH-DERB-ER-URRP!

-

Denzil: Well, a mixture of both. A transexual hermit crab.

-

Int. Police Station Office

Slater: Ooooh, these descriptiond are good, everyone. We're looking for a short-arse who'd make a basketball player feel inferior.
A female man-crab with a scarred nose. Oh, and its wearing a flannel on its head.

Del: Not much to go on in-spegk-taaw

Slater: Right, I'll have to arrest all of you for lying. Unless you give me the name of the one who fucked Rachel AND get her to name
the baby after me.

Del: Alright, Mr Slater. We'll do a deal.

Slater: I don't do dels, Deal Boy.

Del: Well yer gonna like this one. If I give you the name you'll, erm, get what you demanded.

Slater: Sounds more than fair, Derek. Now, I've drafted up this contract I made - one-of-a-kind. And once you sign it you'll have to legally name the baby Roy.

Del signs the contract

Del: I did the dirty deed.

Slater: I know you did, Del. It's not that hard to work out. I doubted it was Rodney because of he's too young, and it's hardly gonna be (indicates Albert) Father Corduroymas. This was all part of my plan to get back at you for impregnating my old bit of skirt. Now to ensure there's no more mishaps, I'm going to photocopy it with this fax machine I bought off Young Towser.

The machine whirs into life. Del snatches the contract

Del: I'll need the official documentation to remind me of (sickened) what I'll have to do.

Slater: Of course, Del. Do what you like with it, the info has been scanned a few seconds ago. I've got... (surveys the fax machine) wh-where are the copies?

Del: Ah y'see, Roy me McCoys, Young Towser bought that fax machine off of me, and just like the poor gits dahn the dole office the machine doesn't work. (Del tears the contract to shreds)

Denzil: With all due respect, former Chief Inspector, you can piss off!

Slater: FA Cup, Denzil! You seem to be forgetting that you have provided false statements

Trigger: Oh leave off, Roy. You ain't a copper. None of those statements mean anything.

Boycie: WAOOOH! Get a load of Trigger again with the logic.

Slater: Right, those terms seem acceptable. Have a nice life, all of you.

All: OH WE WILL, SLATER! WE WILL!

Slater: Del, when the baby's born, why don't you name him after you.

Rodney: I don't think it's fair to Christen a kid 'Cunt'.

Del: Yeah. (Smiles and nods firmly at Slater before doing a double-take at Rodney)

Slater slinks off. Mike comes bounding in

Mike: 'ere Del, that fax machine you sold me - it don't work.

Del: I'm sorry, Michael. I'll get you a proper working fax machete tomorra.

Boycie: Who's looking after the pub?

Mike: Oh, bollocks!

Sullivan: BUSHBUSHBUSHBUSH!

[DangledTeeth]

The Sky's the Limit

Intro Theme

Int. Trotters' Flat

Raquel tentatively exits Del's bedroom, she can hear Albert whistling. Del is behind her

Albert: WHISTLE AND WHISTLE!

Del: Oh go on then... (one last etc.)

Raquel: I can't! What if Albert sees me?!

Del: Aoh, he mast knaoh we've dan the ampty-dampty.

Raquel: I don't think he does. We'll have to tell him the truth.

Del: Good luck in the task.

Raquel: Me? He's your beardy relative.

Del: Alright, sweet'eart, I will tell 'im. Fuck! Here cams the cunt naow.

Del and Raquel disappear in to their room. Albert knocks on the door

Albert: Tea's ap, sahn.

Del: Oh thank you, Unc.

Albert: And here's your Financial Times and Sundee Sport

Del: Thanks, Albert. I'll read about the FTSE 100 TITS - and there might be a cum dividend by the end of it - at the breakfast table.

Albert moves across the hallway

Albert: Oo's Rachel, I've left a tea for you outside your old room, I mean Rodney's old room.

Int. Lounge

Del: Cor, that smells nice.

Albert: Yah, doing meself sam egg and bacon. JOORIN DOH WOH...

Del (mumbled): Gngnh! Oh, Jubbly piss!

Albert: ...I was stationed aht in the Sudan, docked ap to pick up supplies. My old mate Herbert Tutlock was the captain of ahr vessel - a beau'iful sight, yah.

Del: Oh yeah? And what about the ship (presses tongue inside his cheek and nods suggestively)?

Albert: That w-

Del: Heh-hah-hah!

Albert pulls a sour face

Albert: 'erbert spoke to some of the merchants aht there and 'e got hold of this pig, 'cause the na'ive people don't eat them and want naffin' to do wi' 'em.

Del: No, it's a bark, eh.

Albert: So he was on cookin' du'ies that night and carved the bugger ap an' we 'ad ourselves sahm rashers.

Del: Oh, well that's fortunate of Herbie Handcocks to do thaa-aat.

Albert: Weren't for 'im - he fried! HOO-HEGH!

Del pulls a mock-horror expression

Albert: Do you want some breakfost, sahn?

Del: Yeah, breakfast may be for benders, bat I'll 'ave some. Do us a grapefruit.

Del and Albert turn sharply to the camera and the camera smoothly pans into their face until darkness envelops the screen

Ext. Countryside

A locomotive attached to a flatbed thunders along with Del on top, dressed up as a hairdresser and Albert on the drums

Del (Singing): I wake ap. Feel just fine, moi sahn. Your face... fills my mind. I get religion quick 'cos you're looking divine.
'oney, you're touching something, you're touchin' meeeee. I'm ander your thamb, under your spell, can't you seeeeee,
If I could only reach youuuuu, If I could make you smiiiiile, If I could only reach you, That would really be a...

Del and Albert: GRAPEFRUUUIIIIIT!

Del: GRAPEFROO-OO-OO-OOT!

A shabbily dressed Bob Dylan impersonator does a muffled guitar solo

Del: IF I CAN ONLY REACH YOU (Minces about and dramatically jerks his head back) IF I COULD MAKE YOU SMIIIIILE (Thrusts a clenched fist back and forth) If I COULD ONLY REACH YOU (Stands gingerly and pumps his heel up and down) THAT WOULD REALLY BE A...

Del and Albert: GRAPEFRUIIIIT!

Zoom in to Del's face and out to reveal a grapefruit on the breakfast table

Raquel: Del, you've got egg smeared around your north and south.

Del wipes his mouth

Del: Fuckin' Bennett! Caught me out.

Raquel sits at the table. Albert approaches with a plate of bacon in hand

Albert: Here ya go, Oo's Rachel, lav. I won't mind if ya dan't wannit, 'cause I know Del gave you sahm pork last night. HOO-HEGH-UH-HEGH!

Raquel and Del look around the room in embarrassment

Raquel: Thanks, Albert.

Del: Snow White had loads of fruit, and look what happened to the poor caow.

Raquel: I need to go down to the shops.

Del: I'll drive you down there. (To Albert) She's got a baahn in the avvun, baahn in the avvun.

Del and Raquel exit. Rodney enters, hungover

Albert: JOORIN DOH WOH...

Rodney: Oh, gyawd. Unc, I've got the Battle of 'astings in me 'ead. Could you spare me your war time dramas, please.

Albert: JOORIN DOH WOH I never got 'ungover. You needed to be alert and watch out for enemy ships.

Rodney: Cosmic. Listen, Could you phone up my work and tell them I won't be in.

Albert picks up a cordless phone

Albert: Leave it to me, sahn. (On phone) Hello. I'm callin' on behalf of Rodney Troh-ah. (Hand over receiver) Oo's Rodney, she said.

Rodney: Fuckin' cheek! I'm - I'm - The Head of the Computer Section.

Albert: HE'S H- he's Head of the Computer Section. HUH-HEH. Yeah, gangly cunt with the astonished bird face, that's 'im.

Rodney has a stormy expression

Albert: Ladder Legs Rodney, Tall Twat Trotter. HUH-HOOH! Those are good wans. Any'ow, 'e won't be in today because he's got
a bout of curdled confectionery in 'is arse.

Rodney (Cringing): Oh noooo.

Albert: He's ganna shit himself la'er on. I'm gonna have to polish that toilet. Thanks, dear. Bye. (Replaces receiver, to Rodney) There ya go, dahn wot you said. Sa'isfied?

Rodney: Satisf- are you jokin' me or what?!

Albert: What did ya wan' me ta say?

Rodney: Shittin' yourself is what you say at school. Heads of Computer Sections have run-of-the-mill bellyaches.

Albert: They know you won't be cammin' in.

Rodney: I don't think I can ever go in to work again - fuckin' curdled confectionery.

Del enters

Del: Quick! Get that eggfruit on the table. (Referring to Rodney) The night of Christmas past has arisen.

Rodney: I've got a hangover!

Del: I need to iron me pink shirt - yes, pink shirt - to meet Alan Parry at the Nag's Head.

Rodney: You mean... you're 'aving a drink with Cass's Dad?

Del: Who did you think I meant? He's your father-in-boss. You better be careful 'cause you're pushing that man's loyalty too far.

Rodney: I'm ill.

Del: Is that why you're limping?

Rodney: No. Some cunt left a mug of tea outside my door.

Ext. Boycie's House

Bronco: I've finished, Boycie.

Boycie: Too right you're finished. There's paint over my Boucher pain'ings. Emulsion over my Georgian desk.

Bronco: Oh, well, you can't help a drop or two.

Boycie: A drop or two?! It looks like someone's 'eld an acid warehouse in a Dulux party.

Bronco: What do you want doing with the bill?

Boycie: Paint it whatever colour you want so the mice can't eat it. Oi'm not paying!

Bronco: Now 'ang on, Boycie, we shook hands on it.

Boycie: Yeah! I 'ad to wipe the spunk off afterwards. You can either 'alve the bill or contact my solicitaw. It's the last time I employ a cowboy to spruce up me abode.

Bronco: I am not a cowboy!

Boycie: Rumour 'as it John Wayne wears a Bronco watch. (Enters his house and closes the door)

Del pulls up in his van

Del: Bronco!

Bronco: Oh wotcher, Del.

Del: 'ow's things?

Bronco: Not all that good, Del. I've got trouble with my wife and kid, and Boycie's forced me to halve me bill

Del: Well you are a bit messy, ain't ya, eh. I mean, look at your apron.

Bronco: But that's the residue of a job well done.

Del: Oh. Well you're the expert. I ain't got a GCE in B&Q.

Bronco: I've worked hard at this business. I've been out of trouble for the last five years.

Del: Your psychiatrist said you 'ad problems.

Bronco: Paranoia-related quip. (Drives away)

Boycie steps out

Boycie: He's gone?

Del: Yeah.

Boycie: That nutty tit has been decorating my study. Made a fuckin' good job of it an' all.

Del: But 'e told me that you said he did a crap job.

Boycie: Naoh, Del. It's principle. He doesn't want the aggro and publicity, I pay 'alf.

Del: But he's had a few snags in his life.

Boycie: I'm not Social Security. Who is he anyway?

Del: 'e's your Mum. Ha ha.

Boycie: I only do it to help him out. (Unloads printing boxes from Del's van) It's good getting this half-price print sheets, but no
TVs, deep-freeze or David Bowie LPs. I don't have faith in Rodney.

Del: Why not?

Boycie: Because in this line I'm gonna say about taking advantage of this free printing before Rodney gets the sack. (Impersonating Albert's laugh) HOOB-HERH-OOA-HEUH!

Int. Nag's Head

Albert is playing the piano

Mike: I'm thinking of buying an electric piano.

Trigger: They sound good.

Mike: Yeah. And 'opefully Albert will get a small shock from it.

Albert (Singing): ...AND WE LARFED AND WATCHED GAH-ING FA GOLLLLD!

Albert finishes up with a sweeping press of the keys and does a bow

Del: Michael! Chip sandwich and daiquiri stroddlebaker cocktail when yer ready.

Alan: Hello Del.

Del: Oh, alright OXO Dad?

Alan: I am not the OXO Dad, Del. I haven't been in much apart from a small role in Tim Burton's first Batman film.

Del: Rodney's got a viral ache.

Alan: Yeah? I heard he was about to drop his bum luggage.

Mike: He was in here last night with the Ninja Turtles

Alan: Alright, cards on the table, Del. This is what I wanted to see you about.

Del: I've got... no pair of aces and another no pair of aces. Oh, Rodney's just down about Cassandra. Now, about that villa
you haven't mentio-

Mike: Del, phone call for you.

Del: That'll be my sophisticated business contact.

Mike: Someone called Wanko or Bliggo.

Del (To Alan): Yes, that's the Chief Executive Director of the Colour Swatch Committee.

Mike: And if his name didn't sound silly and unprofessional enough, he sounds pissed-up, Del. He says if he stays on the phone for too long the RAF are going to track where he lives.

Del (To Alan): Do excuse me, Mr Bisto.

Del answers the call. Alan moves to the bar where Trigger stands

Trigger: Life is like a bar. You never know what drink you're gonna get.

Alan: I suppose the brewery logos affixed to the pull-taps help, Trig.

Trigger: NOT 'ALF! I went out with this bird once. Nice lady called Linda. Real high-flyer, had a funny eye. Didn't know if she was looking
at me or looking at me on board a bus. She spoke about going to Peckham for the weekend (does a wink)

Del (On phone): So 'ow much we talkin', Bronc?

Mike: Yeah?

Trigger: What?

Alan: Was it a nice weekend?

Trigger: I thought it was, but she didn't wanna see me no more afterwards.

Alan: Oh, I don't wanna pry, Trig

Mike: Yeah, bit personal.

Del: Hold on a second, Bronco (Hand over mouthpiece) Trig, wha' 'appened? Did you give 'er wan?

Trigger: I heard she got jealous. Turns out she wanted to go with me.

Mike and Alan appear distraught

Alan: A large scotch please, Mike. AND QUICK!

Int. Trotters' Flat

Del (On phone): I can't hear you, Leroy, mate. You sahnd like a J Edgar.

Raquel turns the hoover off. Rodney enters

Raquel: In for lunch, Rodney?

Rodney: No. Alan's given me orders to pick up Cassandra from the airport. He didn't tell me personally, it was his receptionist.
Said he has the shits.

Del (Plainly): Oh?

Raquel answers the door to Boycie

Boycie: It's Raquel, the fully clothed stripper.

Raquel: I suppose I'll have to let you in.

Boycie: I don't want to stay here for long. I've got the Mercedes parked downstairs; you know what the urchins on this estate are like, they'd have the wheels off Jumbo Mills' cars if they were imported from Australia.

Raquel: Come in, then.

Del: Boycie, what can I do for you?

Boycie: My valuable satellite dish went walkies, it seems.

Del: And then it wasn't there.

Boycie: You catch on fast. And quick.

Del: How can I be of assistance?

Boycie: Considering that criminal arseholes live in the vicinity of your charming 'ome, I'd be willing to pay you to obtain my dish as soon as someone is selling it.

Del: I will, Boycie.

Raquel: Mohican.

Boycie rushes to the exit

Del: Go on, Boycie, mar sahn! 'ope he falls ahp the stairs.

Rodney stands on the balcony

Del: I heard that Cassandra is ready to woo again.

Rodney: As much as I love it when she dresses up for a shag, I'm not 'aving her put a bed sheet over her 'ead

Del: Naoh, you tart! Not thaAaaAAaht kind of 'woo'. Gordon's bollocks!

Rodney: Better plod over to the airport

Del: I've spoke to my mate at a luxury hotel. I've booked a room for you and Cassandra.

Rodney: Ah, cheers, Del.

Del: I'm gonna earn top bunce with this thing.

Camera shot changes to a view of a stat-eh-lart dish

Int. Luxury Hotel

Asian Bloke: Hello. My name's Henry. I shall ask you to furnish me with money for just about everything. Money is no object, said Derek.

Rodney: Yeah, it's his treat.

Rodney reluctantly pays

Henry: It takes all kinds. You all look alike to me.

Int. Airport

Rodney: When's the Cassandra Airways flight coming in to land?

Desk Woman: Later tonight, in Manchester.

Rodney throws a bouquet of flowers in a bin

Int. Nag's Head

Rodney: Landed in fuckin' Manchester!

Albert: I know. She phoned from the airport.

Rodney: Yes. Did you say where I was.

Albert: I gave 'er the phone number for the 'otel. You know me, I say naffink. I kept quiet because It was supposed to be a surprise.

Rodney: You cosmic cunt!

Del: Fuckin' dickstick, Albert!

Rodney: She's gonna ring up the hotel, find out it's in the name Mr and Mrs Trotters and think I've gone caseo with some woman from the 1940s.

Boycie enters

Boycie: I've got my dish back.

Del: Hand over the 500 quietly, intensive care isn't pukka.

Boycie: I'm handing you nothin', Del Boy. My satellite dish is in my back garden. Mahleeene got some engineers to repair it. Right at this moment it's picking up an exciting episode of Gothenberg Jizz-Lickers in Sweden.

Del: Then whose dish have I got on my balcony?!

Boycie: I dunnaoh. And to be perfectly honest, I couldn't give a tosser's monkey. HA-AGH-EGH-EGH-AGH-EGH-AGH-EGH-AGH!

Boycie Exits

Del: I better phone up Bronco from my mo- nah I'll use the house phone.

Int. Trotters' Flat

Del: What was that 'otel called?

Rodney: Pissarro? Picasso?

Del: You jast said that wan.

Rodney: If you can't tell the difference between those two, I can't wait until you hear my mentioning Monet and Manet.

Del: The hotel was named after a...

Albert: SCHOOBORT!

Del: DASSIT! That old sea sailor 'as got it, and 'e ain't got a GCE in Nautical Education! (Dials number, puts receiver to his ear) Hello Bronco. Why are you crying? You nicked it from the airport?! Fromage de Dildo!

Del hangs up

Rodney: You mean that fuckin' eyesore on the balcony has caused a huge disruption!? I coulda been bangin' Cassandra right now if it wasn't for you!

TV News Reader: Rodney is correct. Catastrophic fuck-up. You are a fuckin' plonker, Del Boy.

Del and Rodney examine the satellite dish

Rodney: How the cunt did you hoist that thing either up 10 flights of stairs or in the lift, get it through the front door, the hall door and this door?

Del: The farny thing iiisss...

Del is interrupted by incessant noises being emitted from the dish as it functions

Satellite Dish: BLEE-BLOOB-EE-BLIB!

An airplane is heading towards Trotter Towers. Del and Rodney embrace in trepidation

Del and Rodney: TURN IT OFFFFFF!

Sullivan: HALF-PRICE CRAP SNACKS etc.

David Jason: John Sullivan was such a prescient genius he predicted the events of 9/11 ten years before it happened.




Never-before-seen stills from the Grapefruit scene

Freddie Delcury poncin' abaht:


Del Boysara beltin' aht the track on the train as it goes along the track:


Albert Trotlor on the drams:


Jubbly Cunt wall, seen here seconds before the Trotter Express smashed the fahckin' caant into dispersing fragments