("LEAGUE OF GENTLEMEN" THEME)
(SCREAM OF AGONY)
Bollocks!
(SIGHS)
Yes, darlin'. Can I help you?
My grandson's looking for something in particular.
- Stag night, is it? - No, no.
He's eight years old. It's his birthday today.
Well, bugger me sideways! Happy birthday, chief.
I've got just the thing - finger in a matchbox, £2.50.
They had those when I was a girl.
There's a hole. You stick your finger through.
Not these. My mate has contacts in A&E. Real fingers.
Oh! No, I don't think that's suitable.
Foot in a shoebox, £3.99?
- Come along, Francis. - 'Ere, listen.
This is brilliant. Three drops on the bog roll -
gives your mum cystitis.
- Grandma, are you broad-minded? - I'm sorry?
- Do you like a laugh? - I enjoy the "News Huddlines".
This'll put a smile on your face. Three-speed, £21.99.
- Well, really! - All right. £17.50.
But don't tell your mates. They'll all want one.
I think we'll go to Beatties instead. You're disgusting.
- Disgusting! - Jesus.
Some people got no sense of humour.
(SIGHS)
- Erm... £17.50? - Yeah.
All right, but I'll need the batteries as well.
(DJ) This one's for Sharlene on the Carol E Scott Ward.
She's 14 years old today and having a termination.
Here's the Bay City Rollers and "Bye Bye Baby".
I 'm surprised you've changed your mind, Lance.
When I made my offer, you were dead against it.
I'm desperate, Mike. I hate this unidextrous life.
- Book me in! Stick an arm on! - Whoa! Press pause.
- Rewind. It's not that simple. - Why not?
You said you could help me jump the queue.
I can, but we have to be careful.
My doctor chum has a reputation to protect.
There are technical considerations -
donor availability, tissue typing, theatre access.
How about Wednesday?
- What's goin' on? - Keep it down. We're almost in!
It's like "Escape from bloody Colditz".
- We have to be discreet. - All above board, ain't it?
Yeah, just...treat it as your own personal BUPA.
I won't do it, King. I won't!
You will. You wouldn't want the GMC to find out
about all those kidneys in your lock-up.
Three chest freezers full to the brim, and not with peas.
You swine! They're specimens for legitimate research.
- Tell it to the judge. - Everything all right, Mike?
Yes, yes. We're just discussing procedure.
Very well. Let's put him under.
Wesley! Leave the model eye alone. He's over here!
Is that it?
Well, I reckon that donor's done me a real favour...
whoever he was.
(CHUCKLES)
Get well soon.
Oh!
Noooooo!
I know you're in there. It's no use pretendin'.
(GASPS)
Where the 'ell have you been? This is important.
I thought I heard an ice cream van.
Don't mess with Lisgoe, Barry. We could be out on our arses.
We'll be all right. Hey, have you got them Quavers?
Ta.
It's JG Debt Recovery. You owe six weeks on that telly.
If you don't pay us, we'll have to take it.
- Maybe she's out. - No, I can smell fried onions.
You don't have to pay the whole amount. We'll have a talk.
- She's not comin'. - Will you shut your face?
We can't just give up. We need the money.
But I'm starvin'! Let's go to Raw Egg.
For Christ's sake! You just scoffed a mixed grill!
- Don't you ever stop eatin'? - Them fried onions set me off.
- You know what I'm like. - I don't want to use force!
Don't say that, Glen. You'll scare her.
- That's the idea. - But she's an old woman.
- She can't be more than 60. - That's retired.
It's not old these days. Look at Shirley Bassey.
Get off me fuckin' doorstep, the pair o' you!
- Oh! Where are you goin'? - We don't want any trouble!
What are you doin'? No! Get off us! Don't!
Don't! You'll make her madder!
Mrs Eyre, if you don't pay, we'll take the TV.
There's no TV here. You've got the wrong house!
- See? She hasn't got a telly. - She has! You can hear it!
That or she's having David Dickinson for lunch!
Come on! I'll buy you a pasty.
- (BANGS DOOR) - Don't! If Lisgoe find out...
- Go on! - What you doin'?
You great fat, clumsy sod! Now look what you've done.
It's not my fault I'm large. Tell her, Glen.
- He's a diabetic. - He's a fat fuckin' bastard!
- That pot cost £15. - I'm sorry.
Sorry's no good, you big ape. I want the money.
I've only got a fiver. I was gonna have scampi for lunch.
What about the other ten?
Glen?
Bloody 'ell!
Now, piss off, the pair o' you, before I call the police!
(SOBS)
You do well to cry, Barry Banks.
You'll have to explain that to Lisgoe.
It's not that. I was lookin' forward to that scampi.
(MUSICAL JINGLE)
Oh! Mrs Eyre! Can you lend me a quid for a King Cone?
Glen, I told you to stop him!
You've got to realise, Lance.
Limbs don't grow on trees. It was a snap decision.
- But the arm of a woman! - I know!
Why, Mike? It's not even on right.
You told me you were desperate. A donor was available.
- You'd be waiting years... - All right.
Cheer up. Look on the bright side.
You can open a jam jar and hold your tiddly in two hands.
Any bother, don't hesitate to call me, day or night.
Apart from night. Good luck, lad.
Sorry. Force of habit.
Right. Off you go, then.
- Oh, shit! - Oh! Blood and sand!
- What's goin' on? - Nothin'. I'm all right.
- All right, Lance? - Keep away from me.
You look to be in some distress.
- I'll get yon key for you. - No...
- Thou's got a lady's arm. - I haven't.
You have. 'Tis all girlish and fair.
Just 'elp us get this door open.
(SNIGGERS)
Come on!
You see, the doctors can only work with what's available.
- I've been waiting so long. - I understand, pal.
But I can build it up, work on it,
make it do whatever I want.
Good luck, mate. Thou's bound to have some teething trouble.
- Cheers. - Oh, cheers.
So, this is your first scan, Barbara.
Won't be long now. Have you felt it kickin'?
(GRUFF VOICE) Yeah. I've heard it talkin', an' all.
What?
Yeah. It says things like "Let me out!" an' that.
Oh.
Speaking of which, where is it gonna come out?
One thing that's essential before you start embalming
is to give them a good clean, then shampoo their hair.
Wash & Go's the best, in my experience.
Quite appropriate, I suppose! Then you plug the cavities.
Be careful when pumping in the formaldehyde and glycerine.
Lose concentration and Steptoe ends up looking like Action Man.
Or the Michelin Man, as happened to me once,
when I got distracted by "Test Match Special".
Mmm... Don't think it's easy, though.
Initially, I could hardly keep me Shreddies down -
the smell of chemicals and warm farts, them all lying there.
Mr Fuller was nice, though. "Owen," he said,
"I was just like you when I started."
My first one was pulled out of the Ouse by Selby Abbey,
belly like a balloon.
I stuck a scalpel in her, all this gas comes out.
The bobby on duty filled up his helmet with sick.
I had to laugh.
Mind you, drownings is always the worst.
It's apparently a very peaceful way to go,
but how they know, I can't think.
If you've drowned, there's no way of letting on how it went,
unless you go down three times, like in the films.
You could have a word with somebody on the way back under.
"I'm drowning now and I wouldn't mind being rescued,
"but I want you to know that it's lovely."
People think we must have a morbid sense of humour,
but I'm very fond of Arthur Askey.
When you've been here on Christmas morning
with some poor woman screaming and screaming
because her kiddie's gone under the wheels of a Vauxhall Astra,
all the mystery goes out of it somehow.
No... No God.
So, I comes in one time, there's a new fella. Young,
a thing in his eyebrow, like the silver balls on cakes.
I says, "Who's this??" Fuller says they're restructuring,
and this new lad, Tom,
will be taking some of the weight off my shoulders.
I'm not happy, am I?
I've got a system. I like things the way they are.
Tom's not a bad lad, but he doesn't know a lot.
He says, "Excuse me. I'm a bit green."
I says, "Well, you'll fit in around here, then."
Then I comes in this morning, and Fuller says,
"We'll have to let you go, Owen."
I says, "Let me go??" He said, "Yes.
"There's one or two questions we'll have to ask.
"Tom's been keeping an eye on you.
"There's things gone astray.
"Bits gone astray...
"and certain... activities been observed."
I said, "I'm paid to plug their cavities."
He said, "Not all of them, sunshine."
Is it wrong?
I dunno.
You know what they say...
The only things you ever regret
are the things you never do.
(SNORES)
(BLOOD-CURDLING SCREAM)
I look like Judy Finnegan!
Right!
I think a celebration is in order.
(MUSIC: "WHEN I'M CLEANING WINDOWS" BY GEORGE FORMBY)
(GREEK MC) Thank you, Iris. The beautiful Iris there.
I have a real treat for you now, gentlemen.
She is a new girl.
Please...
give a big round of applause for Queenie!
(MUSIC: "GRANGE HILL" THEME)
Oh, don't mind if I do.
Hey, you know the rules - no touching.
- It wasn't me. - Right. That's it.
(MAN) Right, you two. This is the last chance saloon.
How much did you collect last week?
- Er... - Six pound. Six bloody pound.
And that were down a sofa you brung in.
- Is there any sandwiches? - Shut up!
Do you know what your target was?
500 bucks. Only 496 short.
- Sorry, Mr Lisgoe. We had... - I know what it is.
You're soft as shite. You'll re-train or else you're out.
- You, Fatty Arbuckle... - I'm not fat, I'm large.
- Here's 30 quid. - Thanks! I'll get some pop.
- Do you want owt, Glen? - Pay attention!
We're role-playing. You owe that £30,
and Twinkletoes here's gonna try and get it off you.
(KNOCKS)
- Got that money, Mr Baggs? - Yeah, here it is. Ten...
No, you thick pig! It's not that easy, is it?
Put up a fight like they do with you.
- Oh, just give us the money. - No. Come back Thursday.
I'm not playing now. Give us that £30.
You can't have it. Me mam's having her legs replaced.
Give me that, you stupid ass! This isn't your money.
It's just for demonstration. You're the joe.
You owe Hammonds £30. I'm gonna get it off you.
You resist me, and I'll show you how it's done.
- You'll see it's not that easy. - Is that right?
Yeah. You've been sat behind a desk too long.
- Have I? - Barry, just get on with it.
Sit down.
Right. So, this is me house, all here.
Oh!
Oh, that's nice. I'll count me lovely money.
Open this fuckin' door!
Oh! Don't you talk to me like that.
You're not havin' this money I owe you.
Oh, where did they find you?
In the Atlantic, blowin' water out your head?
- You what? - You savin' up for liposuction?
They'd need six skips to empty you, you lardy sod!
Are you as thick as you are fat?
If you think I'm leavin' without £30, you must be.
What kind of diseased prick did you drip off?
- Glen, he's being 'orrible! - Give it 'ere, you big fanny!
I'll take another instalment while I'm 'ere. Got the idea?
Now go and earn me some fuckin' money or I'll cut your fat! OK?
- Barry? - Right!
(KNOCKS)
Who is it?
We've come for your payment, Mrs Halliwell.
Oh, I'm very sorry. It must have slipped me mind.
I'll get me purse, you can have it now.
- Smashing, love. We'll just... - (SCREECHES) Give us the money!
Give us the money! Give us the money!
- Lance, please! - It's alive, I tell you!
I've told you. It's a reaction. Your mind's playing tricks.
Playing tricks?!
I spent this afternoon clamped to some blind bastard.
We went down the library and picked out talking books!
There's something wrong with this arm. It's possessed!
- Don't be so daft. - Where did it come from?
- It was donated. - You're lying! Tell me!
Let's just say the donor forgot to fill out the donor card.
Whose were it?
I don't know. I just pick bits out the box by the incinerator.
- What? - They're only gonna burn 'em!
- You've no records?! - What does it matter?
It's your arm now. Don't dig up the past.
When the shit's been shat...
I'll shit you.
(GRUNTS)
How very generous! Thank you.
Fuck off!
Oh, Gawd!
I ain't sayin' no bleedin' Hail Marys!
(GROANS)
Jesus H Christ!
(YELLS IN FRIGHT)
- What do you want from me? - I am your friend.
- No. - Yes.
I desire only to help you.
You're not my arm!
I am. I belong to you, just as you belong to me.
No. You're her arm. That nun's.
Give in to it, Lance Longthorn. You are mine now.
Together, we will continue my work...my work...
(YELLS OUT)
I 'm goin' mad. I'm crackin' up!
OK...
Goodbye, Sister.
(LAUGHS)
Ooh!
Ow!
Ah! No!
Ah... Ah...
Arghhh!
What do you want?
How are you feelin'?
Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me.
Can I offer you a lift?
Yeah... Take me home.
So, you got any new lines in? Any amusing jokes or tricks?
Have a look in that pocket there.
Open it, then.
- What is it? - The "Jolly Roger".
It looks like a cock in a box.
It is.
Well, I was passing the incinerator, so, er...
(BOTH LAUGH)
Home, James.
Ta-ra, then.
(HORN HONKS)
Oh, no. You're gone!
Stop it. I'm rid of you!
We must save her.
Yes, we must.
We must save her.
We must!
(CRASH)
- You saved my life! - Yes...
He saved my life!
Perfect...
I'm perfect.
(SOBS)