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The Young Ones - Cash

Written by Ben Elton, Rik Mayall, and Lise Mayer
Additional material by Alexei Sayle
BBC, 1984

RICK: Vyvyan! You bastard!

RICK: Vyvyan! You've got no respect for property!

RICK: Alright, what's the stair carpet doing on the fire?

VYVYAN: Burning, what's it look like?

RICK: Oh, so you're burning the stair carpet, are you, Vyvyan? Well perhaps I'm being terribly old fashioned...

MIKE: Rick! Where'd you find all that firewood?

RICK: Um, eh...Between my legs.

VYVYAN: [Taking the wood from Rick] Wish I'd thought of that.

RICK: Well, I wish you'd done it! I might want to have had children one day.

VYVYAN: What a revolting thought!

MIKE: This calls for a celebration! Vyv, throw another record player on the fire.

VYVYAN: Oh, certainly, Michael.

RICK: You bastard! That's my record player!

MIKE: [to Vyv] You said it was your record player.

VYVYAN: No, I didn't, Mike, I said "Let's throw Rick's record player on the fire, that'll be good for a laugh."

MIKE: Oh, yeah, that's right. Yeah, it is yours, Rick.

RICK: Yes, it is, now give it back!


RICK: [Almost in tears] My parents gave me that record player after my O levels!

VYVYAN: And by the looks of it you failed them all.

RICK: That's not true! I got a B for French, I got a C for divinity...

MIKE: Look, Rick, we're all completely broke, so we've got to make sacrifices. I myself have generously donated my used tissue collection. And Vyvyan has burned averything Neil owns.

RICK: Yes, well ever mind about all that now, I'm more interested in sorting out this O level business! I got a four for ...


VYVYAN: Sounds like supper's ready.

VYVYAN: Neil, we're not having broken crockery again? That's my recipe!

NEIL: I don't seem to be able to nail the plates to the table without breaking them.

VYVYAN: Neil, Neil, Neil! Nails aren't in the recipe.

NEIL: I'm not cooking, Vyvyan, I'm just trying to nail the plates to the table.

VYVYAN: Neil, is it really necessary to nail the plates to the table? What happens when we want to play Monopoly? Go directly to plate? Do not pass plate nailed to the table by a stupid hippie?

NEIL: No, no, guys, you don't understand. I've got something real scary to lay on you, okay, so, like, sit down.

RICK: What do you mean, sit down? There's only one chair. Do you expect us to all put our bottoms on that and catch horrible diseases off each other?

NEIL: It's not important, Rick...

RICK: Well I think it's rather important, actually! I happen to be rather attached to my bottom.

VYVYAN: Well, I've got a couple of seats in my car.

RICK: Alright, well we'll have to use them then.

VYVYAN: No...They're attached. I mean, you sit in them while you're driving. I suppose I could drive the whole car in!

RICK: No, no, no, better idea -- we'll go out there.

VYVYAN: Ah-ha! [Rick and Vyv start walking out]

NEIL: No, wait, guys, guys! What about my scary story?

VYVYAN: Oh, yeah, that's a point. We won't be able to hear Neil from out there.

RICK: Well, you'll just have to make us a tape, Neil.

VYVYAN: No, that's not good. My cassette's bust.

RICK: Well you'll just have to come out there with us.

VYVYAN: No, there's only two seats.

NEIL: I could go in the boot.

VYVYAN: No, no, Neil. 'Cause if you so much as touch my car, I'm going to kill you. Remember?

NEIL: Oh, yeah.

MIKE: Oh, Neil...

NEIL: Oh, yeah, great idea, Mike. [to Vyv and Rick] Hey, guys, look, I've got something real scary to lay on you, okay, so, like, squat down.

RICK: Brilliant! Squatting! Youth control, no rent!

NEIL: Okay, so listen...

RICK: Neil, is it my imagination, or has this table shrunk?

NEIL: That's what I've been trying to tall you for the last ten minutes, right! [whispering] Strange things keep happening in this house. Furniture keeps disappearing. Plates keep, like, moving about the place. The table is shrinking. And last night, I found my guitar on the fire. Do you know what all this means?

VYV and RICK: [nodding] Yes, it means...

NEIL: No, no...yeah! It means we've got a poltergoost!

MIKE: Don't be stupid, Neil, there's no such thing!

RICK: Don't be such a spazmo, Neil! There's no ghosts, there's no God, there's a perfectly rational explanation for any kind of phenomena you might encounter.

NEIL: Oh, yeah, well how do you explain the table shrinking, then?

RICK: Uh, eh...

VYVYAN: Well, I did that, actually.

VYVYAN: See?...God! Mike's floating! How's that done, then?

NEIL: Yeah, you see, I was right! It's the poltergoost! It's making him float!

RICK: [screaming] Aaahhhhhh! Get a priest! Get a vicar! I believe in God!

MIKE: [in pain] Never mind a priest, call an ambulance.

VYVYAN: Why, Mike?

MIKE: I've just nailed my legs to the table.

GHOST1: What's the matter? Sore Throat?

GHOST2:Yeah. Ere, 'old it, prithee, prithee. Art thou saying that Bacon wrote all of Shakespeare's plays?

GHOST1: Which bit of bacon?

GHOST2: His hand!

GHOST1: Bacon hasn't got hands.

GHOST2: Look, I'm not prepared to discuss it. All I'm saying is that they found a manuscript in a packet of bacon. Cod-piece face!

GHOST1: What did you say?

GHOST2: I said, cod-piece face!

GHOST1: What did you say?

GHOST2: I said, cod-piece face!

GHOST1: What did you say?

GHOST2: I said... cod-piece face!

GHOST1: What did you say?

GHOST2: I said --

GHOST1: Look, don't be evasive!

GHOST2: Aw, sod it!

GHOST2: Let's go kick his teeth in...Kick him!

GHOST1: Aaaaah, my foot...

ANNOUNCER: With Christmas only four months away, imagine that this desktop is a crowded shopping street on a busy Saturday morning. And say, for instance, that this huge meringue...

filled with whipped cream is a young mother loaded down with her groceries. And perhaps this enormous, soggy, overripe tomato... a tiny little girl - who doesn't realize what a dangerous place her exciting new world is. And let's assume that this cling-film parcel...

of mashed banana and jam is a deaf senior citizen...Who's in a wheelchair...And is blind. And this cricket bat with a breeze block nailed to it...

is your car. Now what happens if your car mounts the pavement?

Think once! Think twice! Think DON'T DRIVE YOUR CAR ON THE PAVEMENT!

GHOST1: No, no, that's a goldfish bowl, put it down.

GHOST2 [still in the woman's lap]: No, that's a grapefruit! Now will you please pick me up before this woman farts again! [she farts again]

VYVYAN: [trying to be charming] Hello! I am your neighbour!

NEIGHBOUR: I know that. You've been 'round here six times today already.

VYVYAN: Ha ha ha ha! Yeah! Nice day.

NEIGHBOUR: No it's not, it's snowing!

VYVYAN: Oh! Ha ha ha! Well, I mean, if you like snow and being really cold, it's a nice day.

NEIGHBOUR: Well, I don't. And you're letting cold air in. Now what d'ya want?!?

VYVYAN: Um...Could I borrow...a cup of sugar...please?

NEIGHBOUR: Another one? How many is that you've had? You'll rot your teeth, you know.

VYVYAN: Yeah, I was a bit worried about that, so I had all mine kicked out before I came 'round. These are Neil's.

NEIGHBOUR: [returning with the cup, she menacingly grabs Vyv by the collar]: Do you think I could have some of my cups back, sometime?

VYVYAN: [thinking it over very carefully] Umm...yeah.

NEIGHBOUR: [hands him the cup] There you are.

MIKE: You're not very comfortable, Rick.

RICK: No, I'm bloody not! Why can't you use Vyvyan as a chair? He burned them all!

VYVYAN: Because I've been out gathering winter fuel, haven't I! Look, Mike, I've got another one.

MIKE: Oh, nice one, Vyv.

NEIL: Guys, guys, guys, I think I've solved our money problem. I'm writing to my bank manager. See what you think. [he reads from his letter] "Dear Bank Manager."

MIKE: Yeah?

NEIL: Well, that's it. I'm quite pleased with it so far, though.

MIKE: Oh, well, it's a strong opening, certainly.

VYVYAN: I don't like the "Dear". Sounds a bit too much like, "will you go to bed with me?"

NEIL: Well spoken, Vyvyan. What do you think instead?

VYVYAN: Uh, what about..."Darling"?

NEIL: [writing] "Darling Bank Manager..."

RICK: No, no, no, no, no, not "Bank Manager", it's far too crawly bum-lick. Tell it like it is, put, "Fascist Bullyboy"!

NEIL: "Darling Fascist Bullyboy..."

MIKE: That's nice, yes, so far so good. So what do you want to say?

NEIL: Well, basically, I want to ask him if I can have, like, an extension on my overdraft, but I know there must be a better way of putting it than that.

MIKE: Well, what about, "Give me some more money"?

VYVYAN: ..."You bastard!"

NEIL: Don't you think that's a bit strong?

MIKE: Ah, Neil, people like that respect strength.

NEIL: Yeah, you're right. Uh, "Darling Fascist Bullyboy, Give me some more money, you bastard..." Uh... "Love, Neil".

VYVYAN: Not "_Love_ Neil"! That sounds far too much like, "Come and get it like a bitch-funky sex machine!"

NEIL: Yeah, you're right...Uh, what about, "Yours sincerely"?

RICK: Oh, come off it, Neil. If you're going to be that sycophantic, why don't you go 'round there now and stick your tongue straight down the back of his trousers?

NEIL: Oh, look, I know, I know, why not, "Boom Shanka"?

MIKE: That's hard to tell, Neil. What does it mean?

NEIL: It means, "May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the belly of your woman."

RICK: Ah-ha! And what makes you think your bank manager's a man?

NEIL: Uh...His beard.

MIKE: He'll never understand "Boom Shanka", you'll have to write the whole thing out.

NEIL: Right, okay, here we go. "Darling Fascist Bullyboy, Give me some more money, you bastard. May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the belly of your woman, Neil." [he looks pleased]

RICK: Well, if that doesn't work, I don't know what will.

MIKE: The only trouble is we're running low on fuel.

Vyv, chuck it on the fire.

VYVYAN: Ga, where's my supper, Neil?

NEIL: Coming. [Neil exits to get supper]

RICK: Yeah, I'm so hungry I could eat my own ear wax. [to camera] And we all know how horrid that tastes, right, kids? [Rick samples some earwax.]

VYVYAN: Mike, Mike, did we burn the sofa?

MIKE: Right, 'fraid so, Vyv.

VYVYAN: I thought we did.

Come on, Neil, we're ready!

NEIL: [entering with two plates, which he hands to Mike and Vyv] Right, now here it is, now eat it up quickly, okay?

MIKE: What's this?

NEIL: Uh...It's risotto, Mike.

VYVYAN: It's snow, isn't it, Neil.

NEIL: No, it's probably just gone cold, Vyv.

VYVYAN: Neil, this is snow!

NEIL: No, it's risotto, Vyv!

VYVYAN: Look, I know snow when I see it! I should do, it's all I've had to eat for the past three days.

NEIL: Well, it's very nourishing, Vyvyan.

VYVYAN: Snow, snow, bloody snow! I hate the bloody sight of it!

MIKE: [eating greedily] Don't you want yours, then?

VYVYAN: Ah-ha! No, I didn't say that, did I, Mike? [Vyv picks at his supper] Oh, God, this is disgusting!

GOD: Don't blame me, I didn't cook it! Alright?

VYVYAN: [standing up in disgust] Why can't we have some decent food?

NEIL: Because we haven't got any bread.

VYVYAN: Well why don't we get some bread?

NEIL: Because, Vyvyan, we haven't got any bread!

MIKE: Alright, this has gone far enough. House meeting!

MIKE: Vyv, wake up Rick.

VYVYAN: Rick, wake up!

VYVYAN: [to Rick] Wake up, for heaven's sake, we're trying to have a house meeting...

GHOST1: Oi, now just listen, please? Thank you. This is my body, that one there is yours.

GHOST2: Rubbish! You're only saying that because this one has a nicer bottom.

GHOST1: I know it's mine, 'cause that bum's got no rhythm!

GHOST2: I don't believe this! You are cynically exploiting the fact that we've been beheaded so you can grab yourself a nicer bott!

GHOST1: Oh, for sooth's sake...Look, this is my bottom.

GHOST2: Forget it, forget it! Look, we'll split the bottom.

GHOST1: What, right down the middle?

GHOST2: Look, there's no need to get aggressive!


NEIL: You are, Rick. I can sense it.

RICK: I AM NOT! I just don't see why it has to be me who gets a job.

NEIL: Well it can't be me, I lead an alternative lifestyle.

RICK: Alternative lifestyle! HA! You're as alternative as Channel Four!

MIKE: [shooting a gun into the air] Alright, now why don't we look for a job in the paper?


I'm sorry about that bang, I just fired a gun.

VYVYAN: [returning with the paper] Here we are, situations vacant, pages seven to thirteen.

NEIL: There doesn't seem to be much choice, is there?

RICK: Alright, what's this..."Join the profeshionels..."

NEIL: "'s great, you can have a gun if you want."

RICK: Uh, well, now, yes, well, now, there's me out, you see. Perforated eardrum.

MIKE: Really? Yeah, me too.

RICK: Uh...Pardon?

MIKE: Flat feet.

VYVYAN: [folding up the paper and putting it on the fire] Well! That just leaves Neil then.

NEIL: What? No, no way! Why can't it be Vyvyan for a change?

VYVYAN: [nervously] Uh...well, Neil, since you come to mention it, there is something I've been meaning to tell all of you for some time...Uh...I went to see the doctor today...And, well...I think I'm pregnant.

MIKE, RICK, and NEIL: What?

VYVYAN: I'm going to have a baby!

NEIL: That's impossible!

VYVYAN: Yeah, that's what she said! You just can't trust women, can you?

RICK: But...How did it happen?

MIKE: Oh, come on, Rick, how old are you?

RICK: Well, that's rather a personal question, isn't it!

MIKE: Didn't your mother ever tell you about the birds and the bees?

NEIL: Mine did, but I didn't believe her. Well, I mean, what if the bird got stung, like halfway through? Well, I mean there's a big size difference. Ostriches are really big, right...

VYVYAN: [clutching his stomach] OH! OH NO! The contractions are starting!!

NEIL: Quick, quick, Mike, Mike! Get some boiling towels...Uh, Rick, clean water...Vyvyan, sit down, take the weight off your feet!

RICK: What do you mean, "Sit down"? There aren't any chairs!

MIKE: Yeah, and all the towels have been burnt!

NEIL: Oh, no! We've got to buy some furniture for Vyvyan quickly!

RICK: We can't! We haven't got any money! Vyvyan's baby will be a poorper! Oliver Twist! Jeffrey Dickens! Back to Victorian values! [directly to camera, angrily] I hope you're satisfied, Thatcher!

VYVYAN: Hurry! Get some money very quickly!

MIKE: Right! There's only one thing for it, Neil!

NEIL: You're right! I've got to join the Army before Vyvyan has a baby!

MANIAC: I've just been 'round my neighbour's house to borrow a drill...But he wasn't in! Ha ha ha ha! So I broke in and ate his fishtank. And I wasn't even hungry. Ha ha ha ha! You won't catch me with me trousers!

RICK: What time is it?

MIKE: Rick, that's the hundredth time you've asked me.

RICK: Yes, I know, but every time I ask you, you don't tell me!

MIKE: Well, it's time you got a watch!

RICK: I've got a watch! I'm just not very good at telling the time yet.

MIKE: [showing Rick his watch] Well, the small hand's on the four...

MIKE: How's it going?

NEIL: [moaning] Ohhhh...I hate it! I hate it!

VYVYAN: Well, of course you hate it, Neil, it's not finished yet!

NEIL: It's finished as far as I'm concerned.

At least this way I'm still half fashionable.

MIKE: [encouraging] What are you talking about? You're a hundred and fifty percent fashion! The Army can't say "no" this this suit!

NEIL: Thanks for letting me hire it, Mike.

VYVYAN: I still tend to think that the whole outfit is somethat on the snug side.

MIKE: Oh, come on, come on, the recruiting office closes in one hour!

VYV and RICK: Yeah, come on, come on...

SPG:[Vyv's hamster] [yelling after them]: Don't tell them you're a pacifist!

NEIL: I only said I was a pacifist!

MIKE: So we're back to square one.

VYVYAN: Ga! Look at this weather. Anyone would think it was winter

RICK: Yeah, a chap could lose his bearings in weather like this.

Do you see what I see?

VYVYAN: Oh, brilliant! Neil, you're joining the police.

POLICE CHIEF: Entre, entre!

NEIL: [skulking in] Hello...I've come to join the police force. But I shouldn't think you'd take me...

POLICE CHIEF: Hey, hey...

NEIL: Hey, aren't you Benito Mussolini, conquerer of Abyssinia and former dictator of Italy?

POLICE CHIEF: [in an exaggerated Italian accent] No. So, eh, what can I do for you?

NEIL: Oh, yeah, well, it's about joining the police force, but I don't think I'm, you know, correctly job motivated...

POLICE CHIEF: Oh, for sure you are, for sure. Eh, there's only one thing you need to know to be a policeman, you know? Really. One thing you have to do, you have to be able to go "CCCCCHHHHHHH"

NEIL: Aaccckkk....

POLICE CHIEF: No, no, "CCCCHHHHHH", for when you are talking into your radio, you know? "CCCCCHHHH" -- try it! "CCCCHHHHHHH" You go, "Charlie, Tango, Teakettle, Barbeque, CCCCCHHHHHH"!


POLICE CHIEF: That's right, that's right! Now, you practice going, "CCCCHHHHHH". And if you don't get it right, I kick your head in.

NEIL: Fascist!

POLICE CHIEF: Si! Okay, now, here is the uniform [he hands Neil the uniform] take that with you, and as you go out, watch out for the Special Branch.

NEIL: I don't see what's so special about that.

TREE BRANCH: I've got a degree in Computer Science, that's what.

NEIL: Oh, yeah, that's quite special.

POLICE CHIEF: [he's dropped the Italian accent and is now talking like Alexei Sayle] It's been a terrible blow to my life looking like Mussolini, you know. Especially when I was a kid, you know, I was about seven, right, and I was down the Youth Club, you know, dancing away, right, like in the 'sixties, doing the Twist,... know. And, em, there was this girl, right, and she comes up to me, and she goes,"'Ere! Are you Mussolini?" I said, "Emmm...Yeah." She says, "I thought you was dead." I says, "No, it was just me day off, you know." So she pulled me over the dance floor and butted me in the face! I said, "What's that for?" She said, "That's for the invasion of Crete!"

MC: ...And now, Italy's contestent in the Eurovision Song Contest, here is Il Douce with this year's entry...Take it away, Douce!

POLICE CHIEF: [sings the following song]

Whenever people bother me
When they shout and raise their voices
I don't let it get me down
I just make some stupid noises!


When the boss is giving you the sack
'Cause you've lost all his invoices
Don't drink a bottle of sulphuric acid
Relax, make stupid noises!

Just go...

VYVYAN: You know, I have the most terrible craving for a piece of fried lavatory paper.

RICK: [warming his hands at the open refrigerator] Well, that's just too bad, Vyvyan, because you finished the last roll last week. [he tentatively approaches Vyvyan] Is there anything I can do for you, Vyvyan?

VYVYAN: Uh, yeah! Kill yourself.

RICK: [fakes laughter] Ha ha ha! No, I was wondering if you'd thought of a name... [Rick points to himself] for your baby yet.

VYVYAN: Shut up or piss off!

RICK: [angered at his rejection] Oh, that's very nice...

VYVYAN: No, no, those are two names I'm considering. I mean, they'll be very handy in later life, you know, for getting into fights and things. [Vyv's belly starts quivering] Oh! Oh! He's kicking!

RICK: [he is fascinated in a disgusting sort of way] Oh, Vyvyan...Eeewww...Would it be alright...I mean, could I have a bit of a listen?

VYVYAN: Sure, help yourself! [Rick puts his ear to Vyv's belly] You can hear it kicking!

RICK: I can't hear a thing...

VYVYAN: That's my boy!

RICK: Help! I'm on fire! I'm on fire!

MIKE: That's very public spirited of you, Rick! Thanks!

RADIO VOICE: Hello, PC-13? [CCCCHHHH] Hello, PC-13? Hello, PC-13?

NEIL: [to camera] Oh, wow, that's me, right? Uh... [Neil speaks into the radio] CCCCCHHHH... Uh, hello, uh, here I am.

RADIO VOICE: What is your location, PC-13?

NEIL: CCCCHHHHH...Well, I'm outside, right, but like, don't worry, 'cause, like, everything's really mellow, okay?

RADIO VOICE: 68 Bryant Street...Get 'round there, smash the place up, and arrest everybody.

NEIL: Right, right...CCCCHHHH....Okay...Here goes... [Neil goes off, truncheon in hand]

NEIL: Open up, it's the pigs! [no answer; he rings the doorbell] Open up, it's the pigs! [he knocks again]

WARLOCK: Uh...What's the matter, man, I was fast asleep on my bed. [recognizes Neil] Oh, hello, Neil, mate!

NEIL: Hi, Warlock. Um, look, uh...This is a bust.

WARLOCK: Oh, I know it's one, man... [shouts into the house] Hey! Don't flush the toilet! It's cool! It's only Neil! [admires Neil's uniform] Hey, man, where's you get that gear from?

NEIL: Oh...Uh, down the police station.

WARLOCK: Woah, you had me fooled. I've just eaten half my stash.

NEIL: Look, Warlock, this is very heavy.

WARLOCK: No, it's not, man, we've got plenty more inside. Come in, take the tit off your head.

Come on in, man.

WARLOCK: Hey, Neil's come as Mister Plod!

NEIL: Okay, listen, everybody, go home! It isn't safe! Take your stashes! It's not safe here!

STONEHENGE: There you go, Neil, it's safe here, this house is built on a ley-line.

NEIL: Says who?

STONEHENGE: [pointing] The wall... [she hugs the wall]

NEIL: No, listen, Stonehenge...No, listen, everybody, right, listen...

Right, listen...

Oh, no...Led Zeppelin! Anyway, listen everybody, right, like I don't want to bring the whole evening down or anything, okay, but basically you're all under arrest.

WARLOCK: Hey, everybody, look what I've just found. [speaks into radio]

Hello, Earth, can you read me? This is Starship Captain Warlock, on the planet Freakout, broadcasting to you on the inter-electric galactic airwaves.

Can you read me, Earth?

RADIO VOICE: CCCHHHHH. We receive you. Do you require assistance?

WARLOCK: [amazed] Far out, man! Uh, yeah, we require ten assistants... Preferably Swedish!

NEIL: [enthusiastically] Yeah!

WARLOCK: [eating the rest of his stash in a panic] Oh, no...I knew I should have stuck to rum punch.

VYVYAN: Four kings, two queens, and an ace.

MIKE: Royal flush: five aces and a jack. [places the cards on Vyv's belly] Right.

RICK: Do we have to keep playing this game? Why can't we play something like Fish, that I'm good at?

VYVYAN: Come on, Rick, what have you got?

RICK: One three.


MIKE: Trousers.

RICK: [removing his trousers] It does seem rather strange to me that people with an "R" in their name are only allowed one card. What kind of game is that?

MIKE: Trousers! [Rick tosses his trousers to Mike]

VYVYAN: Right, another round?

RICK: All right...

Oh, God, Neil had bloody well better hurry up with the money! We've got no food, we've got no heat, we've got no lights, and now I've got a whacking splinter up my bottom!

MIKE: Forget about Neil, Rickie, I've got everything sorted.

RICK: Oh! Oh! So you've got everything sorted, have you, Mike? Well what have you sorted? I suppose you've arranged for a bloody great articulated lorry loaded with food, and money, and everything we need, to come smashing through the drawing room window, have you?!?

RICK: Bloody hell!

VYVYAN: Brilliant!

DRIVER: Sorry, sorry...

MIKE: Well, guys, I just don't know what to say.

DOG1: It's a funny game, innit, eh?

DOG2: What is?

DOG1: Chess.

DOG2: Only if you have a nosebleed.

NEIL: Oh, no...Wrong house. [confused, he goes outside and looks at the house number]

RICK: [aristocratically] Yes, yes, that's fine, thank you very much, little old man, have a large sum of money.

Go away quickly.

MIKE: Well, all this was a piece of luck.

RICK: Yes, a frightfully good piece of fortune.

Cigar, Mike?

MIKE: I don't mind if I do.

VYVYAN: [pouring ketchup into a silver bowl full of caviar] This caviar's really great, I suppose.

MIKE: [posing for the camera with cigar] James Bond smokes these, you know.

NEIL: [lurking by the front door] Oh, no, in their desparation the guys must have turned into experienced furniture thieves. Right!

NEIL: WoooWoooWooo! Okay, freeze! This is a raid!

VYVYAN: Hi, Neil! Want some champagne?

NEIL: Button your lip, chummy!

You're on my manor and I've tumbled your game!

MIKE: Come on, Neil, pull up a chaise longue!

NEIL: There's gonna be no chaise longues where you're going, Mikey boy!

Now I hope you'll all come quietly.

VYVYAN: No, no, we're all going to come very noisily!

RICK: Yes! [screaming] Eeeehhhh, eeeehhhh!

VYVYAN: Ow! Quick, get the stirrups! I'm going to have my baby now!

RICK: Look what your rough-arm tactics have done, fascist!

NEIL: Quick! Dial 999! Get an ambulance!

MIKE: I can't watch this. [Mike leaves the room]

NEIL: Oh, no...

RICK: Quickly, the keys to the handcuffs, I'm suffocating!

NEIL: Uh, uh...

MIKE: [rushing back in] Is it over, then? Congratulations, Vyv.

Well, what have we got, a boy or a girl?

RICK: No, Mike, NO!!!!