# Ha! It's luxury
# Here it comes, here it comes
# Here it comes again, yeah!
# It's luxury
# Here it comes, here it comes Here it comes again, yeah
Hi. Welcome to the show. Got a bit of a confession to make.
Haven't actually written an ending to this episode. It's fine, though.
I mean, does a story really have to have
a beginning, a middle and an ending?
Of course it does, Noel. That's the definition of a story.
Smooth, if this show didn't have an ending, would you be bothered?
What show?
This show. The show we're making now for television. Seen the cameras?
Put me down as a maybe.
Ha-ha! See? People are pretty laid-back around here.
No-one cares whether there's an ending or not.
Noel! Noel! Noel! There's no ending!
There's no ending. I've looked everywhere. Calm down, Andy.
But why have you not written an ending?
Well, I was quite tired, plus I had a stitch.
But... But what about the people who watch this show, the viewers?
What, Terry?
Yes. He'll be OK. He doesn't mind whether there's an ending or not.
Have you heard of the butterfly effect?
Er...not sure.
A butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil,
causing a hurricane in China.
I have heard of that. I love that, actually.
Due to my calculations, if you don't write an ending to the show,
Terry, our only viewer, will be killed by an asteroid.
In simple terms, Noel...
you are the butterfly.
That's no good, I hate butterflies.
They're so pretentious. I prefer moths.
You know, like '70s butterflies, quite tatty and corduroy.
"Hey, man. What's happening?" Noel!
I don't think you've understood the gravity of the situation.
This is not a game of insect Top Trumps. Isn't it?
No! Right.
So, if I don't write an ending to the show,
Terry, our only viewer, is going to be killed by an asteroid?
Yes.
Can't believe it. Terry can't die. I love Terry.
And he's stuck with me through thick and thin. Remember the DVD signing?
Ha-ha-ha! Terry! Hey! All right, Noel?
I knew you'd be first.
Hey. Aw, brilliant.
Ha-ha-ha-ha! There you go, mate.
Aw, brilliant. Best show ever!
See you, Terry.
Who shall I make this out to?
RUSSIAN ACCENT: Er...Vladimir. Didn't know we had any fans in Russia.
NORMAL ACCENT: Yeah, there's loads.
There you go, Vladimir. Ah, cheers, Noel. Er...
RUSSIAN ACCENT: Best show ever. Ha-ha-ha!
AUSTRALIAN ACCENT: Hi. My name's Zeus.
Can I, er...can I have a DVD signed...
signed for my wife, please?
Er...she's called Ian...er...Lucy.
Look, Terry, you don't have to do this. It's all right.
SIGHS Listen, Noel...
I've got a bag full of disguises in a truck outside.
I am not leaving this shop
until all of these DVDs have been paid for and signed.
LAUGHS Terry, I love you.
(Best show ever!)
I can't believe he's going to die.
He doesn't have to die. Just write an ending, why don't you?
Exactly. I can't write any more. Why not?
SIGHS I've got a fantasy block.
Fantasy block? Ha-ha! What the hell is fantasy block?
It's not a joke for everyone to have a little chuckle at.
It's a weird strain of writer's block.
Stops you having fantastical ideas.
You've made that up, Noel.
The thing about fantasy block is
it's not that you can't write anything, just factual stuff,
and I've tried to write an ending for the show three times.
All I've come up with is these car manuals.
VEHICLE SOUNDS HORN The Vauxhall Viva one's a treat.
And these pamphlets for the local church on Jesus.
Although they are borderline fantasy, thinking about it. Ha!
Jesus Christ! Terry is doomed.
Fantasy block? It's psychological, ain't it?
It's like sexy times.
If you think about it too much,
you can't get any crunch in your biscuit.
We've all suffered from soft chocolate, Noel.
Oh! Floppy bourbon.
I know it's psychological, but what am I going to do about it?
Oh, mm, ah, my friend Salvador Dali once had fantasy block. Really?
Yes, for two years, he could have no fantastical ideas.
So what happened to him? He was forced to become a rent boy
and eventually contracted syphilis of the eyes, nose and brain.
Oh... Brilliant.
OK, well, see you all at Terry's funeral.
Smooth, you sort out a wreath, yeah?
All right, Tod? Is Tony about? I need a word with him.
No, he's popped to Pret, hasn't he? You know, we take turns.
He's gone to get me my crayfish salad.
He's a vegan, isn't he? He's so boring with food.
It makes it a nightmare in here. You can't get anything.
He likes a bit of tofu, don't he? Oh, I don't understand...
I mean, what is...what are the constituent parts of tofu?
It's a weird colour, ain't it, tofu? Well, it's... Sort of light grey.
I don't know what it is.
Show me the person who can tell me what the fuck tofu is...
NOEL LAUGHS ..and I'll give them a medal.
Cos no-one knows what it is. It's just a name.
It's like a shadow.
Anyway, what can I do you for?
I've got a bit of a problem, actually.
I haven't written an ending to my show.
Is that a problem? I mean...?
With all due respect, do any of them have endings? They kind of peter out.
It's not that.
It's just that, you know, if I don't write an ending,
Terry, our only viewer, is going to get killed by an asteroid.
All right. In which case, maybe write an ending.
Yeah, it's not that simple, is it, Tod?
Right, is it not? It's not that simple.
I mean, I've got fantasy block. Fantasy block.
I can't write an ending.
Right. Well, I had a very similar problem with Chesney Hawkes
back in the day. He had melody block.
Melody block? Melody block, for 21 brutal years.
And I'll say to you exactly the same thing I said to him.
Put a face to it. Yeah?
Put a face to it? Put a face to it, Ches.
If you can see it, then you can beat it.
Visualise it. What kind of fella are we dealing with?
Draw a picture of it. Then it exists. Then you can beat it.
Do you know what? That's quite a good idea.
Yes, well, thank you. You've been really helpful. Thanks, Tod.
Just think of it as advice
from a wise, old hammerhead-shark music producer
to a slightly younger, backward man such as yourself.
I've gotta go. Yes, you do.
They ran out of crayfish so I had to get you a cheese sandwich.
Oh, for God... Did you at least get some crisps?
Got you some vegetable chips.
Oh, those aren't crisps. They are not crisps.
I could rustle up a sort of...
Don't say it. ..tofu burrito?
No! No?
Not tofu. The day you can tell me what tofu is, I will eat it.
What is it? What's it made from?
Miracles.
Fuck that noise.
OK. Right, Andy. I'm going to describe my fantasy block, yeah,
and you're going to visualise it.
OK, I am ready. Describe. OK, right.
Fantasy block, fantasy block. Ooh.
He's quite big, yeah? He's quite rotund.
But he looks quite cool. He's quite stylish.
A bit like a Leigh Bowery creation. This is good, this is good.
Although he's big, he's got feminine boots on,
sort of red feminine boots,
and he moves very gracefully, very light on his feet.
Yeah, I went out with a guy like that in Hamburg.
A sort of chubby, fashionable mamby.
Had amazing boots, but turned out to be a dick.
Before or after we went out?
There was a little overlap. A small overlap?
All right, he's got, erm... I thought of something.
He's got, erm...pants made out of council tax bills, yeah?
Ha-ha! And he's got syringes for eyes. "Urgh!" Quite sinister.
And, erm...he's got a designer handbag, a lady's handbag,
and inside it, if you open up and look inside,
you can see two egg sandwiches and an eviction notice.
Right, Noel, I cannot draw inside a handbag.
Ha-ha! Yeah, sorry. I quite fancy an egg sandwich. That's great.
Thing is, right, he's got two golden hammers, yeah,
and this is the important bit,
and he uses them to smash down my fantastical ideas.
What a chunky bastard!
LAUGHS You're not wrong.
Is this him? Yeah, that's him.
LAUGHS That's him all right!
Oh, this is ridiculous.
Noel, what's wrong?
No, it's just, you know, Tod said if I visualise my fantasy block,
you know, if I put a face to it, it would exist.
Oh, my God, Noel! I think it does exist.
Well, either that or it's my ex-boyfriend.
Imagine a mouth with rulers for legs, measuring stuff as he runs...
No! DING
Imagine if you could get religious cordial. It would taste of hymns.
No! DING
Imagine looking at your penis, but it's an Indian man's finger.
No! DING
Oh, my God! I didn't think he was going to be so big.
Oi, mate!
Stop blocking all my fantastical ideas!
I need those. They're all plausible endings.
BALLOONS SQUEAK Fee, fi, fo, fum!
I smell the fantastical ideas of an Englishman!
Yeah, great, good for you. I don't think you understand.
I've put a face to you, which means you exist,
which means I can destroy you,
leaving me free to write an ending to the show,
so I can save Terry, our only viewer,
from being destroyed by an asteroid. Ha-ha!
Oh, who wrote this show?
Couldn't have been me. I've got fantasy block.
No!
Imagine being interfered with by a cockerel with no eyes.
Who would you turn to? No!
Imagine if you could taste your dreams.
No!
Imagine rolling up your shadow
and inserting it into your dad's anus.
No!
Imagine a motorbike made of jealousy...
'I mean, look at him out there, smashing up my fantastical ideas.'
It's not on. I'll have to get in touch with the authorities.
Smooth!
Can you go and get New York Cop?
It's my lunch break.
All right, I've taken care of that.
Made you a little packed lunch.
What's in this? Ants.
An ant sandwich?
Yeah, with a bit of piccalilli.
Is that what you think I eat?
You're an anteater, aren't you?
Yeah, I've told you before, I'm mixed-race.
My mum's an anteater, my dad's a man.
No matter how many times you tell me that,
I can never fully get my head round it.
And tell New York Cop to come and arrest Fantasy Block.
Tell him to bring some guns.
Yes, and a Taser for his balls.
Hooper! What about a cheese toastie out here? I am starving.
No coriander, my friend. I repeat, no coriander.
Otherwise I'll have you publically flogged.
All right, Raymond?
Smooth! Have a seat.
You like the reggae music, Smooth?
The deep sounds of the Rasta folk?
I like Lee Scratch Perry.
Lee Scratch Perry and the Upsetters. I love the Rastas.
Those willowy men, clouded in a puff of doobie smoke.
How can I help you, my young, violet friend?
I'm here on behalf of Noel. He needs your help.
Jesus, what is it this time?
There's a big monster called Fantasy Block.
A big monster called Fantasy Block.
And?
He's stopping Noel having any fantastical ideas.
So what does he want me to do about it?
He wants you to arrest it. Or shoot it in the face.
I cannot do that. I'm rape and murder. You know that, Smooth.
Besides, it's good that's someone's stopping Noel
having fantastical ideas.
Why? Well, these fantasy people wandering around in a daydream,
they're a threat to society, Smooth.
Let me give you an example of that. They make my job a lot harder.
"Hey, you! You pay your taxes!"
"Oh, I can't, I'm making a canoe out of vultures."
"A canoe out of vultures? What is this shit?"
Hooper, these fantasy people wandering around in a daydream,
making canoes out of vultures.
What are they, Hooper?
'Erm, they're a threat to society?'
You're damn right they're a threat to society.
So that's a no then, is it?
Yeah, it's a no.
What if I was to ask you again?
But maybe this time slip a little something your way?
What is this, Smooth?
It's an ant sandwich.
An ant sandwich?
Are you trying to bribe an officer of the law
with an insect baguette?
Not really, I just didn't want it.
OK, Smooth. We've been friends a long time,
so I'm going to let this sorry incident pass.
But you better leave this office right now
and think about what you just did
and the moral implications of that thing
and the position you put me in.
All right.
You made a mess of our relationship.
Hooper, what about the reggae again? You pump that into me.
OK, let's see what's going on with the ant sandwich.
Delicious.
Imagine bread in the shape of a question mark,
then you could make "what" sandwiches.
No!
Imagine wearing a hat under your own hair. No!
Imagine your hands were so soft, you try and catch a bubble
and your hands burst. No!
Imagine a moth pope. No! Imagine a cat pope. No! Yeah, but... No!
Yeah, but imagine... No!
Imagine inventing the cone. No!
Imagine. No! Imagine. No! Imagine. No!
No! No! No! No!
Imagine a milkshake, Al-Qaeda flavour.
No!
Where's New York Cop? He's not coming.
Why not? He said you're a threat to society.
A threat to society?
Hear that? I'm a threat to society.
I might start carrying a blade around, in there.
Noel, what about Terry?
Yeah, that's a good point. What about Terry?
All right, guys. Terry?
All right, mate. How are you? All right.
Have a seat. Muffin?
No, no. You're all right.
Listen, I've just been watching this show. It is brilliant.
You're on it now.
Oh, yeah. I suppose I am.
Hey, Noel. Is it all right if I say hello to Julie
who works with me at the garden centre?
Yeah, of course. Use that camera there.
All right.
All right, Julie?
She doesn't watch this show.
Course not, you're our only viewer.
Yeah, she hates it.
Listen, I just thought I'd come down
because I know you've all been working really hard,
trying to beat Fantasy Block
and write an ending to the show so I don't get killed by an asteroid.
Of course we are, Terry. We love you, we don't want you to die.
Aw, thanks.
But listen, don't beat yourself up about it.
I won't hold it against you.
I love you guys, and I love this show.
Terry, that is so brave.
I'm so hot for you right now.
Thanks!
Thing is, you see, Noel,
getting hit by an asteroid. That's a pretty fantastical way to go.
Imagine my gravestone.
"Terry. Killed by an asteroid."
Imagine that? It's perfect.
It's like something out of one of your shows, isn't it, Noel?
It's that kind of thing. I know.
So, anyway, I'd better dash.
Oh, come on, Terry, you can stay for a bit.
No, I borrowed my brother's van to get here
and he needs it for work in the morning.
Fair enough.
All right. See you. Bye, Terry. See you, Terry.
Oh, one other thing.
I don't mean to speak out of turn, obviously this is entirely up to you
but, if you did want to save me, why not ask Fantasy Man to help?
# Fantasy Man, Fantasy Man! #
Oh, you do it better than me.
Best show ever! Bye, Terry.
See you, Terry. Bye, Terry. Thanks for coming, Terry.
Bye. Terry, see you.
I love Terry. He's adorable. I know, me too.
People about to die have such a sexy glow to them.
I know. A doomed man often makes my orbs fizz.
Yes. Terry is a very sexy man.
But you must phone Fantasy Man before it's too late.
Yeah, all right. I'll do it. What are you going to do?
Sanitise the coffee grinder.
Good thinking.
Dolly, could you phone Fantasy Man?
Why me?
Well, you're a woman, it'd be better coming from you.
A sort of damsel in distress.
That is so sexist.
It's not sexist. He thinks he's a knight from the 15th century.
OK, I'll do it. Brilliant.
OK, you're going to have to couch it in his own terms, yeah?
Keep the dialogue quite medieval. He only usually takes noble quests.
Couch it in his own terms? What is this?
Can you stop being sarcastic just for one moment and do this for me?
Hello? Fantasy Man here, can I help you?
Yeah, hi, it's, erm, Princess Dolly,
and I'm calling from a castle in Hawaii.
Ah, Castle Hawaii. Princess Dolly.
How may I assist you, sweet fair maiden?
Well, there is an ogre outside the castle called Fantasy Block.
Fantasy Block? I've never heard of him. What's he doing, exactly?
Basically he's just being a total dick.
Don't swear. He hates swearing. Keep it medieval.
I mean... Help! He's blocking everyone's fantastical ideas.
Well, we must act fast
and stop this mischief-maker dead in his tracks.
If he succeeds in blocking all things fantastical,
he'll waste no time in moving on to absurdism, and then perhaps whimsy.
Soon enough we'll all be drowning in a sea of facts.
Drying out on a riverbed of reality. We certainly can't have that.
So are you going to come?
Yes, of course I'll come.
I'll have to go through the Triangle Of Destiny.
Look, it's Fantasy Man. He's come through the Triangle Of Destiny
Yeah, he's come though, all right. But what's he doing, exactly?
I'd say he was falling.
I'd say he was more plummeting. Plummeting to a watery grave.
Hang on. There's someone else coming through the Triangle Of Destiny.
That's Big Chief Woolabum Boomalackaway.
Who? Big Chief Woolabum Boomalackaway.
Where on Earth have you two been?
Just got back from Bestival.
Bestival? That was two weeks ago.
Yes.
I see that Arnold 5 has a stunning new pair of Pegasus wings.
Yeah, they're basically giant-sized rave gloves.
We borrowed them off my friend Clive.
Good God, how big is this Clive character?
Same height as me.
HE CHUCKLES Ah, joyful banter.
Anyway, on with the business at hand -
namely, destroying one Fantasy Block.
Oh, he's a big man.
Look at the size of his pants.
Right, then. Arnold 5, prepare the fantasy cannon.
Oh, baby.
Arnold 5, I know the fantasy cannon is essentially your penis,
but do you have to make it quite so sexual?
Right, Big Chief, have you prepared the ammunition? Yes.
Let's have a look at it.
Ah, perfect.
Pieces of broken rainbow,
fused with the actual shit of Terry Gilliam.
If that doesn't work, I'll eat it myself.
Let's lock and load.
Aim!
Fire!
Do it now, Big Chief!
Fee-fi-fo-fum,
I see the shit of Terry Gilliam.
Yeah! Take that, you brute.
Hi, Fantasy Man. It's me, Princess Dolly. I'm so hot for you right now.
Yes, it is rather close, isn't it?
Quite a balmy evening.
Goodbye!
I've got it! The ending for the show.
OK, everyone. I'm in a canoe made of vultures. We all are.
And we've saved Terry.
Thanks, guys. Best show ever.
# Terry on the beach in the morning sun
# Lifts up his skirt for the fisherman
# Terry does some dancing to lose control
# Now he's on the ground Does a forward roll
# Terry loves fantasy Oh, yeah
# He doesn't love reality Oh, no
# Luxury comedy Oh, yeah
# Watched by a minority Oh, no
# Picking up the pieces of his broken life
# Staring at the body of his sleeping wife
# Goes into the street and he never coming back
# Mumbles to himself "I've had enough of that"
# Terry loves fantasy Oh, yeah
# He doesn't like reality Oh, no
# Fantasy comedy Oh, yeah
# A threat to society Oh, no... #
That's right, a threat to society, everyone hear that?
# Terry loves fantasy Oh, yeah
# He doesn't love reality Oh, no
# Luxury comedy Oh, yeah
# Watched by 10 or 20 Oh, no
Oh, my God! Look, there's an asteroid!
What? I don't understand. I wrote an ending. This shouldn't be happening.
Oops. I appear to have miscalculated.
Oh, Andy.
I'm a fantasy martyr!
I thought that went rather well, Big Chief.
Yes.
Oi!
Come on, you two. You've been on there all afternoon.
Please, Clive. Just one more go.
Nah.
Enough's enough.
Now, can I have my gloves back?
I've got a snooker match to referee tonight.