Topic: The Green Green Grass but Boycie is a mass murderer.

[Glebe]

Opening theme!

INT.DRAWING ROOM.MORNING

FARMER BOYCE: MAR-LENE?!? Where's the bath salts? I'm gunna take a deep bath!

MARLENE (reading paper): THEY'RE IN THE LOWER-PRESS, BOYCIE - AND THERE'S NO NEED TO SHOUT!

AUDIENCE: HAHAHAHA!!!

BOYCIE: Good... I, er… need to get this red paint off meself.

MARLENE: That's interesting... it says here in The Shropshire Gazette that seven people where found butchered in a field last night!

BOYCIE: O-oh, really?! That's awful!

BOYCIE gives a suspicious look to camera.

AUDIENCE: OHHOHAHAHAHA!!!

ELGIN: Oh hello, Farmer Boyce!

MARLENE: Mornin', Elgin! How's life?

ELGIN: Er, not bad, not bad, Mrs. Boyce... but I have some sad news regarding Mrs. Cakeworthy and her husband. They were both found decapitated this morning!

MARLENE: Oh that sucks! Who would do such a thing?

Close-up of Boycie looking directly down the camera lens!

AUDIENCE: OH-HOOT, YAH-HAH!

INTERIOR.PUB.AFTERNOON

RAY: There you go, Llewellyn, a nice pint of amber ale!

LLEWELLYN: Now there's lovely, thank you, Ray! Now I'm just off over to speak with the boyos!

LLEWELLYN goes and sits with the lads at the table.

BRYAN: 'ere Llewellyn, did you 'ear about Mrs. Cakeworthy and her husband?

LLEWELLYN: Yes, Bryan, it were terr-ible! Meanwhile, some friends of mine just down the road in Wales were hacked to pieces last night!

JED: Fuckin' 'ell.

TYLER: That's funny... dad was gone all last night and he came home covered in red paint!

AUDIENCE: HAHA!!!

Suddenly Boycie comes in.

FARM BOYCIE: Ah there you are, Tyler... listen, tell your mother I've decided to stay a little longer in town... I need to get a load of things from the hardware shop... and I, er, might be back late, tonight!

AUDIENCE: Chuckle!

TYLER: Oh dad! I'm meeting Beth in a minute! And I've practice with my grunge band later!

JED: What's grunge?

AUDIENCE: HA!!!

TYLER: Radiohead, Puddle of Mudd, somefink loike thaught!

BOYCIE: Yes, well, never mind... oh by the way, your granny's coming to stay this weekend!

TYLER: Mum had a different actress mum in Fools... now she's June Whitfield!

LLEWELLYN: Yeeess, the actress who plays her sister looks familiar too! By the way, Boycie, what do you make of all these killings?

FARMING BOYCIE: I blame the Driscoll Brothers!

AUDIENCE: HAH!

INT.KITCHEN.NEXT MORNING

MARLENE: Oh Boycie! There you are! Didn't you hear? There's been more slashing!

ELGIN: Oh, Farmer Boyce, Dobbin the horse wants a word!

EXT.GARDEN.MORNING.

DOBBIN THE HORSE: I witnessed you commit some of them murders in the field last night, Boycie. I want a million pound and all the hay I can eat or I go to the authorities!

BOYCIE: Fancy some horse meat for tonight, Marlene?

AUDIENCE: HAHAHAHA!!!

THE END!

[H-O-W-L]

Boycie stares out of the window, caressing the glass with a solemn hand. It is but glass. It is not flesh.
It is not flesh. It is not flesh. It is not flesh.
Yet.

[H-O-W-L]

Audience laughter drowns out the sickening crunch of Boycie putting his shovel through the younger Driscoll brother's mouth, wedging it into the joint between jaws and leveraging up to break his skull from his spine. The resulting applause for the special-effects muffles the carefully-chosen Foley for his agonal breathing.

Wins a BAFTA.

[Huxleys Babkins]

The long-awaited guest appearance of the OFAH crew is marred by the chilling scene of Boycie admiring his handiwork as Del, Rodney and Trigger are burned alive in a giant wicker Uncle Albert.

"Oh, Christ. Oh, Christ. Oh, Jesus Christ, you plonker."

[willpurry]

His laugh masks the sound of the drill.

[Dex Sawash]

Thought this was a new Jason Bourne

[DangledTeeth]

Int. Cottage. Stormy Night

Del: Whack the keh-ul on, Rodders. We can have a cup of PG Typhoid fever.

Rodney swishes the curtains open and sees a menacing man with a fine black moustache

Del (To Grandad): Oi! Keep yer wrigglers off my colourful stack of money, alrigh'! I'm thinking of takin' it dahn to the boo-raow de chaynj and earn a bit of bunce aht of me Mayfair dosh.

Grandad: Small red Wendy 'otel.

Rodney: Deh-yol! There's a man at the window.

Del: Do what?! Have you bin smokin' one-a your funny fags again?

Grandad: Is he made out of chamois leather?

Rodney: There is a man at dah windaowh.

Del: Yeah. Alright, Rodney. I'll just flick open the curtains and do a sorta dance. I've done it naow. Fuck-all there, son.

Door: Bom-bom-bom-bom.

Voice: Del! Rodnay! Grandad Trottaaw! Is anyone at haome - in my haome?

Rodney: It's Boycie.

Rodney goes to answer the door then Del grabs Rodney's wrist

Del: What the flamin' plonky fuck d'yer think ya doin'?! (Points to temple) Could be any cunt.

Rodney: Aohhh yeaaaah!

Del swings the door open and shuts it

Del: Was that Boycie?

Rodney: Dunno. Didn't look. Cosmic.

Del: You one-carat jubblytit, Rodney! I'll open the door again, and this time fuckin' well look, as they say in Madrid.

Del yanks the door open again and Rodney lurches into view very briefly

Rodney: Yeah, that's Boycie.

Boycie takes a cautious step into the room

Boycie: Erm, you do realoise that this is sapposed to be an episaode of my spin-off sitcom The Green Green Grass.

Del: Oh yeah, wha' 'appens to you, do you run into Slater and turn into an envious snitch?

Boycie: Oh naoh, Del Boy. Not that sort of green grass. It's a reference to the countryside. This laocation to be exact.

Del: Stone me! I wasn't aware that this was your sitcom. You titstick, Rodney! This is all your fault!

Rodney: Meeeey?! 'ow is it my fault?!

Boycie: Oy hate to interrupt youuuu, but oy am a mass murderer. Oy'm going to have to strangle all three of you in a senseless act of impulsive killing.

Del: I've got a funny feelin' that this weekend is going to be tremendously memorable. (To Boycie) Got a chalk?

Boycie: Naoh. But I'm sure the forensic coppers will use one to draw an outline around your lifeless bodies. HAH-AGH-EGH-EGH-AGH-EGH-AGH!

Theme music: We've got some 'alf price green-green bush-bush-bush-bush-bush-bush-bush-bush