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.
I hope you're still enjoying the car. And by the way, if you've touched my money...
- Oh! - ..you're dead.
- Stop staring at that thing in the safe! - (ROY) That thing is our futureI
- Oh, shit, man, look. They've done your safe. - They've taken everything!
- I really like you. - I like you too. It's a bad time for me.
I've got a little place of my own. I'll lie low there.
- I hope you find your son. - What is this precious item?
My penis in a jar.
My God!
If no one 'ere knows the whereabouts of Carl's son, where we gonna go now?
I dunno. Carl's gonna have to face up to it and see his ex-wife Judy.
I dunno why he didn't do it in the first place. He lacks backbone.
- Is he frightened of her? - Frightened isn't the word. Grease is the word.
Is the word.
Now, can we be quiet for a bit so I can concentrate on picking me sweets?
Who am I?
- (TOY) How you doin '? - All right. Aye, not bad.
- All right, Ian? - All right, Carl? What brings you here, then?
I'm here to ask about me son, Paul.
Apparently he used to work here. What about you?
Oh, I'm after one of them outdoor heated lamps, you know, try and keep the wife warm.
I've never known her so cold. She is like an icicle.
Actually, Carl, I've got something to tell you.
I went down the clinic this morning to get me sperm count checked.
I like to keep it low, you see, round about 12, 14% active, you know.
I feel good round about that level. Anyway, thing is, as I'm leaving,
I notice an unmarked refrigerated Escort van pulling away from the rear of the clinic, right?
And he pulls into that newly-cobbled area that belongs to the insurance company.
I think they're taking my samples away and exploiting them commercially, you know.
For example, to feed GM produce, or to make fertilisers,
or perhaps in my case, weedkiller.
And of course, all this is without my consent. So I've come down here today to investigate.
Check on the odd sunflower, make sure it's not taking on my complexion or my demeanour.
This is pretty suspicious stuff.
Then of course, you realise, all the time I'm here investigating,
my wife's sitting at home there just getting colder and colder.
- Ian, why don't you get her seen by a doctor? - No, no, no, there's no need, man.
No, it's just a matter of keeping her warm, man.
Right, I've gotta get going. I'll see you around, yeah?
(PANTING)
(FOWLER) So, how exactly did you lose your, erm..?
It got cut off when I was poking it around in cash till, trying to dislodge pound note.
I had it preserved and was hoping to travel to Svitzerland for big operation, sew it back on.
But, well, they have taken all my savings and the private member itself.
Say, I was just admiring your slacks.
Cotton-synthetic mix. Very nice.
- Can get a little sweaty around the, er... - Yes, I still have my balls, thank you.
- (PANTING) - (GASPS)
Sorry, I had to nip out. What can I get you?
Erm...I'll have three teas, please, and three rounds of toast.
Course, kid. How you keeping?
- Fine, thank you. Yourself? - Oh, don't ask.
I'm bad today. Really sick.
- So very, very poorly. - Oh, dear.
How long have you worked here, mate?
Five years, on and off. When me 'ealth permits.
Maybe you could help me.
It's just I've been abroad and I've lost track of me son.
Last I heard, he was living at Catterick Garrison with me ex-wife Judy Palmer.
And I did hear that he worked here at Riley's.
Judy's son. Nice boy. Enjoyed very good health.
Sometimes he'd pop to the chemist for my repeat prescriptions. You'd be proud of him.
Worked outside with the conifers, mostly. He's not been here for about a year or so.
- Say hello from me. He's a good kid. - Yeah, I will. I will. That's brilliant.
- Do you know where he's living now? - Far as I know, he was going to college to study.
Still living with his mum when he worked 'ere.
College, eh? Wow!
(GASPS)
(GASPS AND WHIMPERS)
You've been really helpful, thank you. Sorry about your health.
Oh, you know, I don't like to complain.
To be honest, it's me niece that's the real worry. She's in 'ospital as we speak.
We're trying to raise money to send her to Disneyland in America to cure her.
It's her only hope.
We need five grand to send her to Walt Disney.
Oh, sorry, I...I've got a tear in me eye.
W...would it not be cheaper to send her to EuroDisney?
No. They don't do cures there.
No. No, I don't suppose they do.
(PANTING)
Oh, my beautiful sick daughter. It's just too much to bear.
I...I'm sorry, is it your niece or your daughter that's ill?
Did I say niece? I think of her as a daughter.
Anyway, that's ?2.40, please,
and anything you can give me to send my lovely little boy to Disneyland...in America.
Your lovely little boy?
So is it your son or your niece or your daughter that's...?
It's all of 'em. It runs in the family.
All of 'em? Good God.
Well, look, you can take all that. You've been very helpful.
Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you. Such a kind soul, sir. Thank you so much.
Pleasure.
I'm sorry, mate, what did you say the illness was?
Chest wheezles.
(MOUTHS)
Have either of you two heard of chest wheezles?
- I think he plays for Man United. - Thanks (!) What about you, Mark?
I thought he played for Portsmouth.
Hi, lads. Nice cup of tea? Not get me one? Not trying to avoid me, are you?
I might buy one of these. Sharp, aren't they? Take your 'ead off, that.
Specially if you slipped on some lubricant or butter substitute.
I slipped recently on a ladies' hairdressing magazine. Funny way to slip.
Funnier than slipping on a banana. What do you think, cowboy?
Banana.
Nana.
- Banana. - Bananas.
- Banana! - I know!
Well, it is a classic slip.
Anyway, lads, before anyone slips, just tell me, where is my money?!
(COCKS GUN)
And where is my private property?
- And where's my Tess? - She's left.
- Where's she gone? Is she safe? - She's fine, but she don't want to see you.
- What do you mean? Where is she?! - Excuse me, I'm in charge here.
And where is the stuff you stole from my safe?
- They've got it. - Excuse me.
- Tess took that. - What? Where did she take it?
Excuse me, I am the police officer here, thank you.
May I inform you that you are all under arrest? Your story, my friends, will end,
with you chained to the wall of one of your English dungeons.
Deprived of life's essentials
like wine, water, women, wieners and ''The Jay Leno Show''.
(SCREAMS)
(GUNSHOT)
(RINGS)
- Hello? - Oh, Tony, where have you been?
I'm sorry, I passed by the pop-in centre on my way home
and they asked me if I could, erm...help with a frieze they're making on the back wall
using, erm...tin foil and...crepe paper.
It's about the history of flight. I'm working on Concorde 'cause I'm the youngest.
- I'll be back for tea, though. - Oh, good! It's herrings tonight!
No, it's OK, I'll have the macaroni.
- Don't be daft. I give that to the rabbits. - All right, Mum, I'd better go. Bye.
Right, lads, do exactly what I say. You've got to trust me on this.
Chris, go and fetch me a plant pot.
Plant pot. Check. Over.
Mark, I want you to get me some weedkiller, some slug pellets and some compost.
- Right, off you go. - OK.
(MUSIC: SPOOF COP SHOW THEME)
(GUNSHOTS)
What size pot?
- Just a small one, Chris. - Two-inch?
No, bigger than that.
- Four-inch? - Four-inch is fine. That's a bigger pot!
I know!
(GUNSHOTS)
(WHIMPERS)
Aargh! Come on!
(WHIMPERS)
One thousand, two thousand, three thousand.
Right, there's the compost,
there's the slug thingies.
I got Pathbust, which is in a powder form,
and Weeds Away, a fft-fft, so it's up to you.
I'll take the Pathbust, Mark.
- Sure you don't want the fft-ftt? - No, the Pathbust's fine.
- I'll take the fft-fft back. - Good boy.
- Goodbye. - No, good boy.
Goodboye.
Thank you, Chris.
Right, come on, remember. Remember.
It's 200g of slug pellets.
Three kapok, chewed and distressed.
(SIGHS)
(SNIFFS) Fanny Fresh!
- Come to me! - (SCREAMS)
Weedkiller.
200g.
Two scoops of compost.
This is the clever bit.
Get up!
Get up, you shits.
This is it. You're dead.
What the fuck is that? Is that supposed to be a bomb?
Learn it in the army, did you?
No, I...I saw it on ''The A-Team''.
(GUNSHOTS)
Jesus, man, Ian, thanks.
- Yeah, erm...thanks, mate. - I thought we were dead men then.
Oh, you're all right, lads. I watched this whole episode develop
from over there near the tropical fish.
At first, I thought it was an episode of ''The Beadle's About'',
but when the Beadle himself didn't appear,
after the second shooting, I thought, ''This is probably a real-life situation.''
It's real enough. This bloke's trying to kill us.
- We'd better get off. - I realised I recognised him.
He attacked me in the pub.
Now, that's strange, isn't it? That I encounter this assassin on the very day
that my sperm count is slightly higher th...
I know!
- What are you doing? - What I should have done 20 years ago.
I'm driving down the middle of a river. There's safety in a river.
No tracks, no prying eyes, no worries.
- Here we go! - (ALL SCREAM)
- (QUACKING) - I think I just ran over a trout.
- What are you doing in my house? - Give me your Fanny Fresh.
I don't know where it is!
- Oh. - I don't!
- No! - Oh, please!
Somebody somewhere's got to believe me!
HEY!
(MACHO AND ECHOING) Get your nose avay from my woman's prat.
(TESS) Shit!
How old are you?! How old are you?
How old are you? Tell me!
- How did you lose your hand? - I'll tell you if you say how old you are.
- I'm 52. - I... Really?
You don't look it. You look mid-forties.
Thanks. So how did you lose your hand?
I'll tell you. It was bitten off by a lamb.
- Huh? - OK, Mr so-called 52-year-old,
I'm 47, what's the big deal?
If you want to reach 53 before your next birthday, you'd better get out of here
and never cast a shadow over my girlfriend's bush again!
Now go!
(CHANTING) You're only 47! You're only 47!
(HARP MUSIC)
(CHRIS, ECHOING) The bank of the river's a great place.
A feature of this stretch between 'ere and Catterick
is the marvellous variety of marginal grasses such as bulrushes and reeds
providing a friendly environment for small birds and mammals such as reed warblers, bank voles,
and if you're very lucky, the occasional otter.
Chris, is the otter an indigenous species?
Yes, Carl, it is indigenous, and it's protected under the Wildlife Act.
Oh, yeah, rock on, Parliament.
You got that right, Mark.
(CARL) And what about, er...the bank over there?
Tess!
Tess, my love!
It is safe now.
Let me in, my darling!
OPEN THIS DOOR, YOU BITCH!
- (GASPS) - Hello, Tess. Where are you going?
Vere's the jar?
Vere is the jar? VERE IS THE JAR, TESS?
- What do you mean? - This is what was stolen from the safe.
The jar should be in it!
Oh my God, think. Vere is it?
Vere is my prong jar?
Oh, my...
I am overvelmed with nausea.
Shit, Roy, what's 'appened to you?
- Oh, my God, what's happened to your hand? - It is in this carrier bag.
That madman severed it with a curved blade.
A Bowie knife.
Maybe felching. Something fucking Persian, anyway.
You're twiddling my tits, i'nt yer?
No, Tess, I wish I was.
Oh, please help me! You were a nurse. What do I do?
Oh, my God, what's all that blue stuff?
Bilberry Polar Krush. I was hoping the ice would preserve the hand.
OK, look, I'm gonna have to work really fast.
I'll put the hand in my freezer, clean and suture the stump.
- (SHRIEKS) - No, it's the only way.
An ambulance wouldn't get here in time.
Help me, please! I need hand relief!
Dickhead.
Fucking chaffinch!
Calm down, Roy, I'm sure your jar is safe.
Nobody's interested in it apart from you.
And you, Tess.
It must still be in the Range Rover. It must have fallen out of the bag.
Oh, I was so close!
Just a few more thousand pounds and the operation could have gone ahead!
Come on, Roy, tell me the truth. How did you lose it?
And don't tell me it was when you crashed your Ferrari in Sorrento.
- It was struck by lightning when it was proud. - Yeah, right (!)
But, my darling Tess, you will still love me whatever happens?
You would never leave me over such a tiny little thing as this. Would you?
Look, Roy, I know this isn't the ideal time, but there's something I've gotta tell you.
- Oh, no. Oh, no, Tess. - This is gonna hurt.
No! No! No... (SCREAM ECHOES)
- What was that? - Sounded like something having a shit.
I'm like that after parsnips.
This is ridiculous.
I just wanted to go ten miles up the road to find my son after 20 years.
I'm freezing, I'm starving,
there's a psychopath trying to kill us, and we're wanted by the police.
- We have got ?50,000 worth of money. - Yeah, but you can't spend it if you're dead.
Look, lads, we don't know how this is gonna end up,
but I'd like to volunteer meself as the first person to be eaten.
That's very kind, but I don't think it's quite come to that yet.
Well, actually, er...Carl,
I am feeling a bit peckish, like.
Look, lads, before we commit ourselves to eating Chris,
I'll see if I can find summat else to eat,
and subject to your approval, like, I'm gonna find somewhere safe to hide this money.
There's a caravan just up there. I'll meet you there in an hour.
If I don't come back, just assume I'm dead, right?
And if you find me son, tell 'im I love 'im, yeah? And tell him what happened. All right?
What did 'appen?
(HEAVY BREATHING)
- Tess! - Carl!
What are you doing 'ere?
(HEAVY BREATHING)
There's something living in 'ere. They're all stocked up.
- Right, come on, let's go wait in the river. - No way! Th...they've got Swiss rolls.
- What if someone catches us? - You're not listening to me properly.
- They've got, er...Swiss rolls. - It's not worth it. Come on, let's get out of 'ere.
And...fig rolls.
All right, knickers, then. I'm in.
Sorry.
I'm sorry, Mummy.
Yes, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, Mummy, er...but I'll be... I'll be a bit late home for tea tonight.
I'm sorry, Mummy, I'll be a bit late home for tea.
I...I got a flat tyre
and I had to deal with it properly.
I'm sorry, Mummy, I had a flat tyre and I had to deal with it!
(WHISTLES)
So are you two getting back together?
No, no, I was just tending to his wounds.
No, me and him are history.
(MUSIC: THE BEAUTIFUL SOUTH'S ''HOT ON THE HEELS OF HEARTBREAK'')
♪ If you could pull yourself away from that mess
♪ Surely if you can pack a punch, then you can pack your dress
♪ 'Cause hot on the trail of self-pi'y is wilderness
♪ Like hot on the heels of heartbreak is happiness
♪ It's an upward struggle just to be yourself
♪ Be yourself
♪ And if I climb too hard I'll end up on the shelf
♪ When sorrys have been said and tears, tears are dry
♪ I'm still the easy route to easy ride
♪ If you could just have a good word wi' h yourself
♪ Convince yourself, you're you and no one else
♪ Restore your confidence and your pride
♪ A soldier don't need no one by their side
♪ It seems as though there's only me to blame
♪ You to blame
♪ Pushover must be my middle name
#Just because you flush love down the drain
♪ Doesn't mean your li' tle heart can't be reclaimed
♪ Next time I choose to love, I'll take good aim
♪ Miss out on his sweet talk and his blame
♪ Then when I miss the target
♪ You can't complain
♪ It's only the sure shot actually feels the pain
♪ It's only the sure shot
♪ Actually feels the pain ♪
Shit! I've gotta go, Tess.
Look after that briefcase for me, will you? I'll be back as soon as I can.
Don't be long.
I'm gagging for it.
(SIGHS)
- Cheers, Chris. - I know.
Whoa...
Oh, yeah.
God! Pickle my prat, look at all this money!
# And whistle while you work... # Ooh! (MUTTERS)
Ha! I always said these things could kill you. Never mind.