"Debbie, Debbie." "HE MOUTHS" "I've come to read you a poem I've written." "All right, whatever." "Oh, Debbie, I wish my words could fly from my heart into y..." "My friend, you'll never find a lady's favour with paltry sentiments such as this." "If you wish to win this woman's heart, you must reach out and speak unto her very being." "But I never know what to say to her." "A lover must speak with audacity, with passion, with courage, with wit." "Your words climbing on each other's shoulders, surmounting the cool night air and then tumbling gently into her ears." "How do I do that?" "Perhaps I can teach you." "Alors." "Return to your battlefield of love and repeat after me." "Oi, Debbie!" "Oi, Debbie." "Louder, she's watching EastEnders." "Oi, Debbie!" "What do you want?" "And so the dance begins." "Tell her you want her to stop being such a bitch." "I want you to stop being such a bitch." "What?" "She looks annoyed." "Ah, but she has turned off the telly." "You have her now, mon ami." "Ask her if she's bloody coming out or what." "Are you bloody coming out or what?" "Now spit." "Bravo." "Out where?" "Erm, well, there's a new play on at the National, actually, so..." "Ooh!" "Idiot!" "Did you say a play?" "Are you queer or something?" "No, I said I've got these tickets for the X Factor live tour." "And what makes you think I'd want to go with you?" "Tell her because she loves it." "That doesn't even make sense as an answer." "Do it!" "Say, "Because you love it"." "Because you love it." "I beg your pardon?" "Now call her a dirty girl." "Oh, that's just sexist." "No, she'll have think it is...cheeky." "You're a dirty girl." "Oi, you cheeky bastard!" "Ask her if she'd rather you gave the tickets to Carrie Richards instead." "Would you rather I give the tickets to Carrie Richards?" "Who the hell is Carrie Richards?" "Who the hell is Carrie Richards?" "She's a girl you got pregnant 18 months ago." "She's a girl I got pregnant 18 months ago." "And you'll give them to her instead of the child support." "That's terrible!" "What's terrible?" "Nothing." "Look, I'll be down in five minutes, I've just got to put some make-up on." "Tell her she needs it." "I'm not saying that." "You need it, you ugly cow!" "You are such a cheeky git!" "Come up and I'll call us a minicab." "All right, but you're paying!" "Yeah, all right." "Allez, allez." "The pigeon, it is nearly in the park." "Actually, you know what?" "Thanks for the help and everything, but now" "I've talked to Debbie, I'm not sure if I really like her that much." "No matter, you'll be all right for the night." "I'm not really into that kind of relationship." "I think she might have some self-esteem issues, allowing herself to be treated like that." "What the...?" "I don't even do..." "You coming in or what, you gormless bastard?" "Actually..." "Ooh, nose candy, thank God." "Oi, naughty boy, let's at least get a line in first." "'You wipe, you disinfect, you bleach, but don't let your guard down for a minute.'" "No!" "'If your children get dirt on them, they'll explode.'" "When it comes to being careful, you can't be too careful, and that's why Cleanlinol protects against absolutely all germs." "And that's... ..a promise." "Which means you can be confident that your children are protected against bad humours, miasma and fresh air..." "..and free to enjoy life the healthy way." "Cleanlinol, because Cleanlinol is next to Godlinol." "In all good supermarkets." "Come and meet my brother in law Paul." "He's lovely, he's a real people person." "So, James, pleasure to meet you, James, real pleasure to meet you." "Heard a lot about you, James." "Really?" "Zing." "Like it." "So, tell me, James, what do you do for your day job?" "I'm asking because I'm genuinely interested." "Well, I work in a sewage treatment plant." "It's pretty low-key but occasionally there's a blockage, which means..." "Yeah." "That someone's got to physically..." "Brilliant, yeah." "God, I'm so bloody fascinated, James, I'd like to glue my brain to your face." "Are you even listening?" "That is so true." "I'm not even talking." "Me neither." "God, we've got so much in common." "We should totally do lunch." "Oh, I see what's going on here." "What?" "You think you're good with people." "Sorry?" "It all makes sense, the fake matey-ness, the rapey arm touching, the way you keep using my name in a way that makes me feel oddly violated as if you've just dipped your cock in my drink." "It's called people skills." "Well, I'm sorry to have to break this to you, mate, but these people skills you seem so desperate to thrust at me as if I'm the social equivalent of a wank doll just make you seem weird and a bit scary." "No offence, but in a party situation, you seem as about as relaxed and friendly as a serial killer doing a police interview while still wearing his last victim's skin." "Oh." "Don't worry, it's totally normal." "It doesn't make you the sort of freaky, long finger-nailed loner who gets arrested in Sainsbury's for stroking the bread." "Being shit with people is just a very minor disability that you share with everyone who isn't Alan Carr or Top Cat." "Just accept it and move on." "OK." "Well, piss off and stand on your own, then." "That's more like it." "'This is Adrian." "He's 35, he lives in Southampton, and he's a fishmonger.'" "But he's agreed to take part in a unique and pointless television experiment because we've set Adrian the task of making a fish out of water documentary in just four days." "But there's a twist." "Adrian has no television making experience." "It always takes more than four days to make a documentary and at the end of each day, we'll be weighing him." "This is..." "That's why we picked a fishmonger." "It's day one and Adrian is hoping to pick up some tips at False Jeopardy Productions, creators of TV hits like" "Medicine Swap, Pigeon Among The Cats and Cheryl And Ashley" " Coles To Newcastle." "Isolde McYurt is head of envisioning at False Jeopardy." "Now, the first thing you need is an arbitrary deadline to build tension." ""Ar-bi-tary-trary."" "Adrian has just eight minutes to come up with his arbitrary deadline." "Hours..." "If he doesn't, the project can't go ahead and the whole thing will have been a massive waste of a third of a day." "One second..." "That should be..." "In the nick of time, Adrian has come up with his arbitrary deadline." "But there's a problem." "Under the rules of the show, he has to pitch the idea to a panel of former top television executives, now working at ITV, while juggling, a skill Adrian has never previously attempted." "To help him, he'll also be allowed to sell them fish." "So what I thought was is that you get a cheesemonger who makes." "like, erm, brie, and then you get them to make a different sort of cheese, like cheddar, and then he's like, "Whoa, cheddar is so hard."" "Because he's used to making soft cheese?" "No, because it's difficult." "The executives love Adrian's cheese idea, but there's a problem." "Under the rules of the show, he'll have to make it without using the word cheese." "I'm really feeling the pressure now." "I'm just going to have to mention cheese at some point." "Time for the weigh-in, Adrian." "Adrian has put on nearly three pounds swapping from a predominantly fish based diet to one consisting solely of cheese." "Under the rules of the show, this weight gain means Adrian will have his TV camera confiscated and will have to film his documentary on his mobile phone." "Is anyone a cheesemonger..." "I mean, a rennet-induced-curd-food-monger?" "Adrian is finding the impossibility of his task overwhelming." "I mean, I've given it everything." "110 percent?" "No, that's impossible." "I mean, I've just..." "Cry." "I feel like..." "Go on, go on, cry, please." "I really just feel..." "I mean..." "I've given it everything and I'm still coming up short." "I so want to succeed." "It's been my dream to stop being a fishmonger and make documentaries ever since The Pub." "Back at False Jeopardy, it's time for Adrian's efforts to be judged by top industry professional Sir Alan Yentob, is he a sir?" "Or equivalent TBC." "It's bad news." "Well, in the end, I'd have to have weighed less than Posh Spice for my documentary to have worked." "He said, and I don't know if I can bear to repeat this, "It was good enough for Channel Five, but not Dave"." "What do you feel about your journey?" "Well, the one here was all right, but going back, apparently, there's leaves on the line now, so they're doing replacement buses after Basingstoke, so not great." "Tune in next week for our new series," "Whatever Happened To Adrian The Fishmonger Guy?" "So, I've been catching up on my DVD box-sets." "Oh yeah?" "The Wire?" "No, Blackadder." "I'm further behind than you think." "Which reminds me, I must watch The Young Ones before one of them dies." "Yeah." "I love Blackadder, but I have to say, I think the last joke in Blackadder Goes Forth really falls flat." "The last joke, so, that's..." "When they're all going over the top into No Man's Land and it looks like they've got shot and then it cuts to this visual gag of a field of poppies and the studio audience really aren't buying it at all." "Yeah, I'm not altogether sure that that's meant to be funny." "What?" "The As Time Goes By defence?" "No." "I think having made a lot of jokes," "I mean really, a lot of jokes, they felt that they needed to show some heart, you know, that everything isn't about jokes, there are serious things." "But why would they do that?" "In a comedy show, isn't that a bit, "Here's two minutes in the" ""hangover simulator to go with your beer"?" "Well, how would you have ended it?" "Some big Frank Spencer pratfall over barbed-wire into some poo so the credits roll and they're all covered in poo?" "Poo?" "Yeah." "What poo?" "The poo in No Man's Land." "There wasn't any poo." "It looks like poo." "It was mud." "Mud, poo, it's not my idea, David, I'm saying, they shouldn't have done that." "It's good that they didn't do that." "Where would the poo who have come from?" "Forget about the poo." "There was no poo." "What I'm saying is that comedy can't all just be talk of poo." "News to me." "Sometimes you have to show some depth." "Do you think we should do that?" "Well." "Kill off Adrik, roll the credits over silence." "It would certainly stop that bastard saying what the next programme is." "No it wouldn't." "Nothing would stop that bastard." "And even if it would stop the bastard on BBC Two, it would never stop the bastard on Dave." "He doesn't give a shit." "As soon as it would get to the poppy bit of Blackadder Goes Forth, he's already split the screen and he's showing highlights of Frankie Boyle's nan-pussy set." "In memory of the fallen." "I think we really need it, David." "I think we desperately need to show maturity with something tacked on and mawkish." "Like we care about MS." "MS?" "It doesn't have to be MS, just people and their relationships and their disgusting problems, like we give a shit or something." "That's the mission statement." "LOUD MUSIC PLAYS" "INAUDIBLE" "SHOUTING:" "I'm sorry, I can't quite catch..." "What?" "!" "I can't..." "I can't hear!" "What?" "What?" "I didn't catch what you..." "It's very noisy, I can't hear you." "I can't..." "What?" "Could you?" "It might be a quiet bit, hang on." "LOUD MUSIC CONTINUES" "Just come over here." "INAUDIBLE" "SHOUTING:" "Why does it have to be so loud?" "I know!" "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?" "Can we go somewhere quieter?" "Yeah, good idea." "Yeah." "Drink up now, please." "Do you want to see if there's somewhere to sit?" "I've called time." "Oh, have you?" "Oh, OK." "Is there anywhere nearby?" "Goodnight." "Are they still..." "No, it's shut." "Erm..." "Hmm, yeah." "999,992, prepare yourself brothers, is almost time." "Then, if I may, a few words." "Brothers, when we, with hope and fear in our hearts, first set up Massiveyachts.co.uk, I dare swear we little bethought we would one day be preparing to celebrate the arrival of the one millionth intrepid "webinaut" to our virtual emporium." "999,996." "Indeed, and what better spur to our legendary generosity is there than this mathematical milestone." "I heartily concur." "Brothers, it is once more time to give away the massive yacht." "999,999, here we go." "One million!" "ALL:" "Hooray!" "Quickly, deploy the pop-up." "Pop-up deployed." "Oh, to see their little face now, the initial confusion turning to wonderment and delight, as it dawns upon them that the round number-iness of their visit has been justly rewarded with a massive yacht." "Oh, that's odd." "What?" "They've closed the pop-up." "What?" "What?" "Yes." "Just closed it." "They must have meant to click on it and accidentally hit the corner with the X in instead." "What an awful mistake." "No!" "You see, when designing the pop-up, that very eventuality occurred to me and as a fail-safe, I made sure that the first few times you try to close one, another one pops up even bigger." "And yet, they've closed all 19 of them." "Why?" "Do they not want a massive yacht?" "Who wouldn't want a massive yacht?" "Maybe they are ready have a massive yacht." "But even then, surely it's just common courtesy to thank us for our generous gift and explain why it must be regretfully declined." "Surely, but just to close the pop-up!" "Without a word of thanks." "ALL:" "It's so rude." "Well, we'll offer it to the million and one-th customer, then, shall we?" "No, that would just look stupid." "The gesture is ruined." "Agh!" "SPLASH" "Do we even want the massive yacht ourselves anymore?" "Will it not always be to us a bitter reminder of the ingratitude of man?" "True enough." "Mr Stayvaker, scuttle the massive yacht." "Brothers, all aboard our massive lifeboat." "ALL:" "Hooray!" "Digby and Ginger fall in a skip and they find a child's bunny rabbit and you close in on the bunny rabbit and the bunny is crying and then you just cut to a caption saying "Fuck cancer"." "That's a bit post-watershed." "How about "Sod cancer"?" "Sod cancer?" ""Sod cancer for a game of soldiers."" "Yeah." "I think "Sod cancer" on its own, it's stronger on its own." "Yeah, it is strong." "And then we're in Afghanistan, but everyone is wearing Make Poverty History wristbands." "Including the Taliban." "Yeah." "Then we fade to black, roll the credits in a silence." "Yeah." "Or Keane." "Will I recognise that?" "Yeah." "Is it a bit contrived?" "Yeah." "You're right, we're not getting anywhere." "Should we have a cup of tea?" "Sorry, guys, the hot water's run out." "It will be about five minutes." "MOURNFUL ORCHESTRAL MUSIC" "So, the wedding worked?" "Yes, the wedding worked." "Well done, us." "Euch!" "And you've called her Dorothy?" "Lovely name." "Yes, yes, Dorothy, although we prefer to call her Dotty." "Don't we, Dotty?" "Hello, Dotty." "Hello, Dotty." "I prefer Dorothy, actually." "Up yours!" "Up yours!" "So we'd like the christening to form part of the regular Sunday service." "Yes, if that's OK with you." "Fine." "Absolutely." "Absolutely(!" ") Shit you!" "Otherwise, it's a bit like, welcoming someone into a familywhile everyone's in bed." "In bed, what are you saying?" "We still have sex, you know." "I mean, we are very tired, but..." "I'm not tired." "You're not breast-feeding." "Neither are you any more." "SOBS:" "It was very hard!" "SOBS:" "It's been hard for me, too." "Up yours!" "Up yours!" "Guys..." "Up yours!" "Up yours!" "Up yours!" "Up yours!" "Up yours!" "ROARS:" "Up yours!" "Up yours!" "FART" "What a lovely fart." "Good girl." "Merry Christmas, sir." "What the hell are you talking about, Hennimore?" "It's August 12." "They put the decorations up earlier every year, don't they, sir?" "That may pass as brilliant societal observation in the outside world, but here at Tinsel International Incorporating British Baubles and" "Shiny Balls UK, it plunges our annual rush squarely into the dog days of summer." "Mint julep?" "Thank you very much, sir." "What the hell are you doing drinking at work, Hennimore?" "Sorry sir, I keep thinking it's Christmas." "What on earth gave you that idea?" "Anyway, not to worry, Hennimore, because you could cope with this job drunk." "Glad to hear it, sir." "Look at the quality of that fairy, Hennimore." "She looks good enough to fuck." "Yes, sir." "As you know, we in Britain are banned from manufacturing likenesses of the female form under the Masturbatory Discouragement Act of 1969, and have to get them in from abroad." "So I need you to order 12 more of those extravagant fairies to be here by 4 o'clock, when Gavin Rod, thrusting chief executive of Whoopsies department store, Uxbridge Avenue," "Central London, will be here to pick up our biggest Christmas order yet." "So, make sure there are 12 extravagant fairies delivered here, number four, 1600 Avenue by four." "Right-o, sir." "On an unrelated note, my wife, who has been staunchly pro-queer ever since she was once briefly lesbianised at secretarial college, is an enthusiastic fundraiser for the World Homosexual Organisation of Peterborough, Stevenage, India and Eire." "WHOOPSIE." "SMASH Whoopsie!" "Told you to lay off that stuff." "As you can see, she's nowhere near her funding target." "But that's at the top, sir." "That's because it's so bloody hot in here." "In reality, she's barely raised a bean, largely as a result of the efforts of horrible homophobes like Gavin Rod." "Gavin Rod of Whoopsie?" "Don't be ridiculous, Hennimore." "Why would Gavin Rod join a pro-Nancy pressure group?" "Everyone knows he was once briefly homosexualised at managerial college." "I mean Whoopsie the department store." "Then why the blazes didn't you say so?" "Sorry, sir." "It's all right, Hennimore, I know you're drunk." "And I hate having to do business with the likes of Gavin Rod." "Anyway, forget about him." "In order to make sure that Mrs Boss's fundraiser goes with a bang," "I need you to book a dozen gay dancers for the cabaret." "The most extravagant one they've got." "It's an evening event but they'll need to get there early, about 1600 hours, and the address is 1600 4 O'clock Street." "I'm sure those 12 fairies will loosen the pockets of the gentlemen present." "And remember to get the 12 extravagant fairies here by 4 for the homophobe." "I notice you're not writing any of this down." "I expect that's because it's so simple." "Nail on the head, sir." "MUSIC: "Dancing Queen" by Abba" "It's not natural!" "You're all about abominations!" "It's like managerial college all over again!" "So sorry I'm late, Gavin, but I've been meaning to say a bit of broad-mindedness when it comes to other's people's lifestyle..." "What the...?" "They were a man down, sir." "Oh!" "This thong's a bit tight!" "Hennimore!" "You're watching the British Emergency Broadcasting System." "Coming up later, our new topical entertainment show, Mock The Event, which may offend viewers who were affected by The Event." "But first, it's time for The Quiz Broadcast." "Hello, good evening, and scratching only makes it worse." "Don't!" "Don't!" "Welcome to the show." "Before we start, since last week, we've actually had a letter from Them saying that a lot of Them apparently watch and enjoy the show, so I'd just like to say to any of Them watching..." "leave us be!" "Why can't you leave us alone?" "So let's meet the contestants." "Peter, of course, you won't know what none of Them looks like?" "No." "Well, let me tell you, they look just like us." "Well, of course they used to be us, didn't they?" "That's right, they used to be us." "I'd also like to welcome back the lovely Sheila." "Yes." "You're not one of them, I hope, are you Sheila?" "Yes." "GUNSHOT" "She can only say yes, you fools!" "She's been voltage-calmed." "I was just trying to do a joke!" "I was only trying to do a joke." "Is Sheila all right?" "Sheila's fine, Peter." "Sheila's safe." "And our third contestant is a newcomer to The Quiz Broadcast." "What's your name?" "DEEP VOICE:" "Why do you want to know?" "And on to round one." "Them." "Question one, what do we know about Them?" "BUZZER" "Only that we fear Them." "Correct." "Question two." "Are they trying to get in?" "I'll give you a clue." "Sheila could have been answered this one." "BUZZER Yes." "Correct." "They are trying to get in." "They are really trying to get in." "And question three." "Have any of Them got in?" "BUZZER" "Yes." "I'm sorry, I'm afraid the answer I've got here is that to date, thankfully, none of Them have got in." "That's not the right answer." "And finally for this round, question four." "Do they really feed on human flesh or is that just a myth?" "Rargh!" "I can hear crunching." "I'm afraid that's all we've got time for because, erm..." "They've got in." "And back to our main story." "The Government has intervened to save the beleaguered lap-dancing sector, which has been badly hit by the recession." "Joining me in the studio is the Business Secretary." "Good evening." "People will be wondering, why this industry is particularly worthy of government help." "Well, as we all know, there is a long tradition of lap-dancing in this country." "Paying women to strip and jiggle for our frustrated pleasure goes all the way back to some masturbating Viking, I should imagine." "That's a very convincing argument." "But if this industry is no longer profitable, why shouldn't it be allowed to fail?" "Isn't that the law of the market?" "Well, I think what we've learned during the recession is that the market isn't always right." "Not everything that's worthwhile makes a profit." "Opera, ballet, banks, trains, car manufacturer, titty dancing, the list goes on." "I see." "Did I mention titty dancing?" "Yes." "Good." "But why intervene here and not with, say, Woolworths?" "Look, we can't save everything." "I think lap-dancing is a special case - a combination of the downturn and the emerging competition from online porn, it's free, it's easy to access, you can bookmark it." "What you can do, actually, is open more than one tab and then one hand it." "You've got..." "Anyway, where was I?" "Did I mention titty dancing?" "Yes." "Then you understand." "Minister, think you." "Well, there's nothing for it, someone's got to die." "If this show is to have any meaning at all, we've got to show that we're prepared to kill someone off." "What, one of us?" "Oh, God, no." "What, so, like, Mark?" "I don't think people really know who Mark is." "They'll probably have to cut to him now to illustrate it." "Well, it's going to have to be James, then, isn't it?" "We're going to have to kill James." "Oh, yeah." "Hi, guys." "Oh, I'm so happy at the moment." "I feel like it will never end." "What are you doing?" "I'm talking to my best gal on Facebook." "Perfect." "MOURNFUL ORCHESTRAL MUSIC" "'What would you know about cricket?" "'" "'I am struggling.'" "'And you sit there and destroy everything he's worked for.'" "'Here's here to provide what we call extreme negative feedback.'" "'This guy marries a girl...'" "'You should be afraid because bronze is brilliant!" "'"