WWW.MY-SUBS.CO
My name is Carl Palmer.
I've returned home to find the son I abandoned in Catterick when he was just four years old.
This is the story of that search.
Whoo-hoo!
- The Mermade. - What's the name of the receptionist?
- Tess. - (WHEEzES)
- She's a lovely lass, i'nt she? - Oh, mm.
Maybe we could have a dance later, eh?
I need to see your mate and his monkey. Now give me the address.
Last chance, baby man! Now give me the address!
This ungodly, feverish display vill stop now!
(IAN) Hello, Chris ? Carl?
We had to give him your address.
I didn't say you were going to the Mermade, so you'll be Ok there.
(TV) Tributes continue to come in to the owner of Neil 's Wheels, Mr Neil Wheel,
who remains cri' ically ill in hospi' al after being shot during a daring daylight robbery yesterday.
In charge of the investigation is DI Fowler.
Basically, I believe we are looking for a loose cannon, a loner.
A ti' head...
who believes he's invisible to the human senses.
Hey, Chris, that's the garage we nicked the car from yesterday.
Maybe we should phone the police.
- Must have 'appened just after we left. - Don't be daft. We nicked his car.
We might be incriminated. You know, in the frame.
We should get it forensically steriled and return it pronto.
- Or tomorrow. D'you want room service? - No, I'm all right, thanks.
Well, screw you, then.
What you lookin' at? My face or a brick?
Bring a camera next ti... Oh, hello.
This is Chris Palmer.
I'm currently staying at the hotel
and I would like one of your Mermade burgers with the relish of my choice.
And could you hurry up, please? This is Christ's work.
What we gonna do, then?
Well, I'll phone Dan the Shellfish Man and ask if he knows owt about me son.
Well, I'll just take it from there, then, you know?
Carl, do I look like an Aborigine?
- No, not in the slightest, Chris. - (SIGHS)
- Why do you want to look like an Aborigine? - I want me boomerang to come back more often.
Those chops were lovely, Mum.
Mwa! You're the best.
Now, how do I look?
Wonderful. You're such a pretty boy when you make an effort.
I'm sorry about last night.
So you should be.
If you're not back for dinner, I'll be phoning the police, even though it'd break my heart.
Oh, I'll be back, Mum, I promise. I might even have a job. Fingers crossed.
Right.
(PHONE RINGS)
- Hello, Siberian Khartru. - I know.
- Oh, hello, Chris. Where are you? - I'm at the Mermade Hotel with Carl.
Four crowns and a fifth one expected.
- Very nice. You all right? - Yeah, why shouldn't I be?
- Have plants invaded the parish? - No, did you not get Ian's message?
There was a right nutter in here before, looking for you and Carl.
He presented himself as a fairly violent character.
Ian gave him your address. He didn't say owt about the Mermade.
Don't worry. We nicked 'is car. He'll calm down when he gets it back.
- Well, you take care, Chris. - OK, sweetheart. Is Dan there?
- Yes. - Can Carl have a word?
Yes. Dan?
- Yeah? - It's Chris's brother Carl.
Oh, OK. Hello, friend, what can I do you for?
- I don't do home deliveries, you know. - I...I don't need a midwife, Dan.
No, I was just wondering, erm...do you know where my son lives or what 'appened to 'im?
- What, your ex Judy's son, Paul? - Yeah, I'm his father, if you remember.
- What you asking me for? - It's just that Chris said you were a nosy get.
Oh, did he?! Tell 'im I know where his boomerang is, and I'm not saying!
I'll 'ave a nose round for you. He was working down the old what with the old
down the old Riley's Garden Centre, but it was a few years back.
Last I 'eard, he helps out the old what with the old down the old pick-your-own centre.
- Why don't you try there? - I will do. Thanks, Dan.
I say, Dan, you know Chris is doing his show tonight at the Mermade? Why don't you come?
What, the Mermade are letting him up on stage?
Bloody 'ell, have you seen his act? It's a bit old-fashioned.
I'll bring a few of the lads down.
No way I'm going on me own. No way! See you tonight.
Yeah, see you tonight, Dan.
It was at this point that I realised that every single person
has their own individual fingerprints unique to themselves,
much like their face, their house, or their car.
But in this case, there was no fingerprints at the scene.
From this, I deduced we were looking for a man with no hands.
If not that, a giant insect.
It's room service.
- How are you? - All right.
I didn't know the relish of your choice, so I brought them all.
Did your mam make it?
Oh, no, I, er...made it meself. I'm the only one on duty.
Look, it's my afternoon off this afternoon, lads.
If you want us, I'll be in my room down the corridor.
Oh, right, thanks.
Look, me and Chris are going out this afternoon. D'you wanna come?
We're going to find Carl's son.
Oh, I... Well, yeah, I'd love to, if that's all right.
I'll have to creep out before the manager nobbles me.
Fine by us. We'll meet you downstairs at one o'clock, all right?
Half past seven.
- We'll meet you at one o'clock, yeah? - Could you make it quarter past one?
'Cause I have me one o'clock dump at, erm...one o'clock.
- Right. - Yeah.
- I'll see you, then. - Yeah, see you.
Sir, we've just received information that the stolen Range Rover, the robber's car,
may be parked outside the Mermade Hotel.
Excellent, Sergeant Mingemunching...ton.
The fox is out of his hole. Prepare my new Mercedes-Benz.
Let the pursuit begin in earnest. My God!
- Hiya, Tess. I've got your scarf. - Thanks.
- Thanks for the dance last night. It was lovely. - That's OK. I enjoyed myself for once.
- Have you not got a hangover? - I never get them.
- I have six raw eggs before I go to sleep. It's... - An old army trick.
You're bashing my backside again, i'nt yer?
Yeah, I am, I only 'ad five.
Here's the key, Tess. I'm going out with Chris and we're taking Mark.
We won't be back till late, so don't you go waiting up for me or nowt, unless you really must.
See you, then, Tess.
Good afternoon, my darling.
You look radiant today.
Erm... I'm, er... I'm sorry about last night.
Please forgive me.
I was drunk.
I got jealous, but who wouldn't over a girl with your beauty?
Leave it out, Roy. It doesn't suit you.
You were a shit last night. End of story.
It will never happen again.
Yeah, it will.
Tell me, where's plonker Rodn... er, Mark? I had a look, but he wasn't in his room.
It's his afternoon off, he's gone out with Mr Palmer.
How dare he? I told him to report to me... but is no problem.
I can talk to him later. He fully deserves his afternoon off.
Good Mark.
I like Mark.
My favourite fruit is an apple.
- My favourite fruit's an apple. - Same as Mark, then, Chris.
- No. It's a different apple. - Yeah, all right, Chris.
Right, you go in there and ask about your son, and I'll go find some lovely fresh fruit. All right?
- Aye. - That's nice, Chris. Let's give it a try. Hello?
Hello. Could you help me? I'm a friend of Chris and Carl's.
I think they're staying here. The brothers with the Range Rover?
I was meant to meet them, but their car's not here. Do you know when they'll be back?
Friend of Carl's, eh? You in the army with 'im?
Yeah, we served together in the Battle...
- ..of Hastings. - Ooh, how lovely.
Yeah, they've gone out for the day. They will be back later, though.
- You might be interested. Chris is doing... - (Jesus, this is bad, man.)
- Did they take a briefcase with them? - No. No, I didn't see any briefcase.
(It's still in the car, then.)
- Sorry, can I take a message or anything? - What?!
Oh, er...it's OK. I know where they're going. I'll catch up with them.
Thanks for your help.
Ooh. (LAUGHS NERVOUSLY)
He's taking his time getting that fruit, isn't he, Carl?
Yeah, he is, yeah.
Yeah, he is.
Oh, it's just Chris.
- What's he doing? - Well, he's just staring at us.
- What's all that about? - I dunno. It's just summat he does.
- You know, just ignore him. - Oh, right.
CHRIS, WILL YOU GET IN 'ERE WITH THAT FRUIT NOW?!
- We don't wanna be sat 'ere all day, do we? - No, Carl.
There it is.
The Range Rover.
We got him.
Like a blueberry trapped in the pastry casing of a blueberry pie.
My God!
This feels good.
I-it's not a Range Rover, sir.
- Well, what is it, then? - It's a VW Golf, sir.
Why do those scumbags at Volks-waygun make it look so much like a Range Rover, then?
I'm sorry, sir, but the designers at Volkswagen are not scumbags,
and if it looks like anything, it's the Honda Accord or the Toyota Avensis.
At a push, the new Mazda 6.
If it had been an Isuzu Trooper, you'd have had a point.
So many cars, so little time.
Hello, officers.
Can I help you? I'm Geoff Hastings, manager of the hotel.
Greetings, small businessman.
I am here responding to information received
that a green Range Rover owned by a master criminal,
was seen parked here in this forecourt earlier this morning.
How do you respond to this?
Sorry, Officer, you've been given a bum lead.
The green 4x4 parked here this morning's my wife's Isuzu Trooper.
It's an easy mistake to make.
So I'm led to believe.
Thank you for your help. You may return to your duties.
We are closer to our prey than we think.
I have an exquisite nose for these things.
Come.
(CARL) Is that all you could find, Chris? Gooseberries?
- Gooseberries are just English grapes! - Oh, right. D'you wanna try 'em?
What's the story, then? How come you 'aven't seen your son for years?
Why did you, er... Why did you split up with your wife?
I was only young, I was in the army. We spent a...lot of time apart.
I can 'ardly even remember saying goodbye to me son Paul.
You never said goodbye to me, either.
I'm sorry, Chris. But just recently, you know,
I've been thinking about Paul a lot, you know.
What he might look like and whether I've got a future with 'im,
or whether I should just leave him alone.
How do you think I felt, living alone with no friends?
Just watching the telly night after night?
I even had to buy a turkey for company.
Sorry, Chris. That's why I'm here, to try and put things right.
You can't have missed us very much.
You never turned up at our mam's funeral.
There was only two of us there. Me and Mrs Trethrewick.
Jesus, Chris. What is it you want me to say?
Hi; Mum.
Thank God you're back. You're a good boy.
- Hey, better than that, Mum. - What? What is it, Tony?
- I've got a job. Night shift at Pickerings. - Oh!
- The potted shrimp place? - Yeah.
Well, do they pot shrimps at night?
- Yeah, they have to or they escape. - So what do they do during the day?
- (TINkLING MUSIC BOx) - Well, half of them guard the shrimps,
and the others make the strands for Shredded Wheat
and arrange for them to be sent to the Netherlands.
I start tonight. The boss is clearing it with the Probation.
Well done, Tony. Come on. Sit down.
I've cooked chops. Just the thing for a working man, eh?
You know, my life is shit double shit with a 99 flake in it.
- D'you wanna know what 'appened? - No.
I'm gonna tell you anyway. I have to get it off me chest.
You know the flotilla last year?
Loads of deaths when a woman got her tits out in the eye of the storm.
- Aye, that's right. - But what's it to do with you, cowboy?
Well, you know that woman in the eye of the storm?
That woman...was me.
- Hold on a minute, Mark. - No, you hold on!
It was the day of the 60th annual flotilla.
The crowds were thronging and the sun was beating down on the ocean
and the b-beautiful ships.
I went for a swim in the bay
to cleanse my aching body and get the best view of the wonderful ships.
Bear in mind, I 'ad long hair then.
As the lead ship approached, the storm broke and was upon me in seconds.
In the mayhem, the short-sighted skipper of the lead ship mistook me for a sensual woman.
In his aroused state, he applied the brakes too hard,
causing ships behind to ram up his back end.
It was a disaster. It was all my fault.
'Ow did they know it was you, Mark?
They didn't. The only one that knew was Roy Oates, the hotel manager.
He'd been taking photos of me bathing with his zoom lens.
He confronted me as I crept ashore.
So for the past 12 months, I've been enslaved.
Oh, this is my first taste of freedom.
And boy, does it taste...good. Whoar.
(CRASH)
It's gonna be OK. You're on top of this.
It's still in the car. No worries.
Fetch it tonight!
Fetch it tonight.
- Is he dead? - I dunno. It's hard to tell, isn't it?
How old are you?
What is your name?
Are you an American actor?
Do I like you?
Look, mate, we'll just pay for the goosegogs and get off, OK?
Maybe he really is dead.
I know, Mark. That's what's worrying me. We gotta get our thinking caps on.
What would Quincy do, or Owen, MD, or James Herriot, in these circumstances?
- You first, Chris. - Check the body for vital signs.
- That's good. Mark? - Well, I reckon, erm...
Mark, sorry, can you put your hand up before you speak? Or else it's anarchy.
- Yeah, all right then, go on! - Well, Owen, MD would check for a pulse.
Quincy would do an autopsy. James Herriot'd stick his hand up his arse.
- Excellent. In fact, you can have a star. - A star for nowt.
- Chris, have you got something to say? - He said I got a star for nowt.
All right, Mark, I know what he said.
Look, I'm a bit fed up with your attitude, Chris. Why don't you stand outside?
- (SPRAYING AND GROANING) - He's a gas sniffer. We'll get nowt out of him.
He's a sniffer, all right. Come on, let's get out of 'ere.
(CAWS)
I went down the pick-your-own farm like you said, but I didn't find out about me son.
The fella was high on gas. He's a sniffer.
I had a word with that old Thanos Skotethwus. You know, the bloke who owns the chateau.
You mean Thanos Gerthwus. That's how you pronounce it.
No. Ian, you know the bloke who owns the chateau?
Yeah, the bloke with the port-wine stain and strawberry mark. Sells local honey. Mmm.
- Yeah. How d'you pronounce his name? - Denis Gettis.
Yeah, 'im. Anyway, he reckons your lad's still with his mum Judy in Catterick.
That's brilliant, Dan. Hey, thank you.
- Any time I can help, I help. Know what I mean? - Thanks very much.
- So, Ian, how's the wife? - Don't ask. She's as cold she's ever been.
She's absolutely freezing. She's like dry ice.
She just about lives in that chair in the front room.
I've surrounded her with fan heaters, portable oil radiators...
Doesn't seem to make any difference.
Mind, she never complains. She never complains.
Hey, it's Friday night. Where is everybody? I wanna get laid.
All down at the Mermade Hotel. One of the regulars is doing a turn.
The Mermade Hotel.
Webster and I were there earlier today.
Run by a small businessman, God bless him.
He mentioned his wife. Is she hot?
He's not married, as far as I know. Who'd have him? He's a right dickhead.
Strange. I'm sure he said he had a wife.
Maybe we should check him out. He may be throwing me a bent spoon.
But in the meantime, Webster, let us drown our sorrows.
Two laygers, please.
I beg your pardon?
Pardon granted with ease. Two laygers, please.
Er...it's, er...''lagers'', sir.
Two lagers, please.
Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the wonderful world of Chris Palmer
and his dreams of parsimony. Please.
- (APPLAUSE) - (DAN) Wahey! Come on, bushy boy!
(GENTLE MELODY)
(APPLAUSE)
(CHEERING)
I know.
- Webster. - Mm?
Webster, listen to me.
The criminal never sleeps.
If we are to apprehend this twat,
we must live his lifestyle.
We must think like him, we must breathe his stale air.
We must become a oneness. A oneness.
I know, sir, but I'm tired!
So am I, Webster.
Pop a couple of these little fellas.
I'm sure you'll find them very invigorating.
Right, Mum, I'm off.
Oh, good luck, son.
- I hope this is a new start for us all. - Yeah, me too.
I'll see you in the morning.
Well, he's a very talented man, your brother.
So, um...have you got any hidden talents, Carl?
- Me? - Mm.
Yeah, actually. I'm the best cuddler in England.
I don't believe it. You're licking my arse again.
It's true, Tess. I've got a certificate and trophies. I could show you.
Prove it.
- Step down. I will. - Ooh. (GIGGLES)
- You ready? - Yeah.
(TESS SIGHS)
- Pretty good, eh? - Not bad at all.
Hello, Tess. Mr Palmer.
Has the evening gone vell?
Um, yeah. Yeah, very well, I think.
Well done, Tess.
You go to our room and relax.
I will take over here.
- Well, no, I was just... - Tess, go to bed.
I insist.
OK, then. Um...
Er...goodnight, Mr Palmer.
- Night, Tess. - (PUFFS ASTHMA INHALER)
Mr Palmer, I see you are leaving us tomorrow. I trust you have enjoyed your stay?
Yeah, very much. In fact, we're thinking of staying a bit longer.
Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Palmer, I'm afraid that will not be possible.
You see, ve are fully booked. It's the flotilla.
Shh.
Don't you worry. We're going.
(BREATHES RAGGEDLY)
Reception. Now.
(CRACKS KNUCKLES)
(TECHNO MUSIC)
Tomorrow, you are leaving my employment.
- What do you mean? I... - Whoa.
That is the last time you'll interrupt me.
You vill get out of here tomorrow before Tess is avake.
- I...I won't do that. Why should I? - Oh yes, you vill, fat boy.
For if you don't,
your face will be all over the papers,
and you will be lynched.
Now get out of my sight.
(Tess?)
- (Tess?) - Mr Palmer, are you lost?
Er...yeah, yeah, I've got the wrong floor.
Erm...goodnight.
♪ Let me speak
♪ Let me spi' out my bi' terness
♪ Born of grief and nights wi' hout sleep
♪ And festering flesh
♪ Already on a bed of sighs and screams
♪ And still, you torture me wi' h visions
♪ You give me terrifying dreams
♪ Better I was carried
♪ From the womb straight to the grave
♪ I see the diggers wai' ing
♪ They're leaning on their spades
♪ Oh, you tireless watcher
♪ What have I done to you?
♪ That you make everything I dread
♪ And everything I fear
♪ Come true
♪ Why you make everything I dread
♪ And everything I fear
♪ Come true ♪
Hello.
Wakey-wakey.
(TECHNO MUSIC)