Filthy Rich & Catflap

Edward Catflap:
Richie, if you don't stop talking, I am going to cut off your head, put it in the microwave until it goes ping, mash it up with a bit of milk and butter, and ram it up your backside!

Richard Rich:
[Eddie is sleeping in Richie's bed] What's the matter with your bed?

Edward Catflap:
It's covered in lager.

Richard Rich:
You mean, you threw up on it.

Edward Catflap:
There was a certain amount of unpleasantness, yeah. I don't see what you're so upset about, I've been very considerate. I could've easily thrown up on your bed and slept in my own.

Richard Rich:
And what is wrong with the lavatory?

Edward Catflap:
Richie. You know I hate sleeping in the lavatory, you can never get comfy.

Milkman:
Look, I'm not a journalist, I'm a milkman.

Edward Catflap:
Hey, he's right, you know, Richie. He can't be a journo, he hasn't got a stiffie.

Richard Rich:
[the phone is ringing] Maybe it's a producer with a wonderful part.

Edward Catflap:
Oo-er!

Richard Rich:
Eddie, I said wonderful part, not attractive Willy.

Richard Rich:
[on phone] Hello, Filthy Ralph, what do you want got me any work? Listen, I'm jaded with the tired, shallow world of TV light entertainment. I yearn to thread the boards again. I fancy Shakespeare.

Edward Catflap:
[listenening in on the other line] Which considering he's a bloke and dead, makes you a homosexual necrophiliac.

Ralph Filthy:
Eddie, I've had a long day and I've only been up half an hour. I'm never any good before my second pack a' snouts, you know that, now please, just let me spit it out.

Edward Catflap:
Oo-er!

Richard Rich:
Eddie, this is the most milkman-shaped stork I have seen in my life. I would go further and posit that it's not a stork at all, but a milkman.

Richard Rich:
This is so dramatic, somebody should be making a film of me now.

Richard Rich:
We've got two problems. No food, and the Nolan Sisters. What should we do?

Edward Catflap:
Eat the Nolans!

Richard Rich:
Oh yes, of course I have known Tarby for years. Yes, we've often performed in the same pants. [laughs at his own joke] Panto, love. Pantomimes. Ooh, we've done a few. Oh, Cinders, Alladers, Dickers Whitters. That was terrif. My Dick was fantastic! [more laughter] That's an old showbiz joke, love.

Ivor Whopper:
Ladies and gentlemen, everybody's favourite mother-in-law, Molly Slocombe! [canned applause]

Molly Slocombe:
Oh, you're so lovely. I'd like to show you all me p*ssy. [canned laughter] In fact, I can't think of anything nicer than having you all stroking me p*ssy. [more canned laughter]

Richard Rich:
Oh for God's sake, love, don't milk it, that's the third time you've done that gag, and you used to do it every ep of that appaling sitcom you used to do. [she punches him in the face]

Edward Catflap:
Look, if anyone else wants to throw their drink around, would they mind throwing it at me?

Richard Rich:
The Nolan sisters. My all time favourite four-tissue fantasy.

Richard Rich:
Phew! That pipe whiffs like nobody's business!

Edward Catflap:
Richie, it's a sewer. It whiffs like everybody's business.

Edward Catflap:
Smelly Eddie to the rescue. When I was watching TV-am in the lav this morning, I saw this fantast ad for a new mag called Poncy Cooking. And when you buy part one, you get part two comletely free.

Richard Rich:
[stands up to take off his apron] Well, that sounds like a marvelous offer, Edward, and one not to be missed.

Edward Catflap:
Well, actually, it's just a rather clumsy setup for a gag later on.

Edward Catflap:
Blimey, the newsagent's has got a lot closer since we moved into a smaller studio.

Richard Rich:
Shut up, Eddie, shut up. You're spoiling the magic for everyone.

Ralph Filthy:
Listen, I am not a well man. This morning I coughed so hard I sucked my trousers up my backside.

Richard Rich:
A peepshow, Filthy? What if Tarby finds out? I shall be thrown out of the Royal Order of the Charitable Self-Publicising Showbiz Bog Otters.

Ralph Filthy:
Don't worry about the Bog Otters, Richie, they were in here themselves half an hour ago, but they had to leave cos they run out of 50p's.

Ralph Filthy:
Don't worry, Richie, these days prison food is quite acceptable. Mind you, it's not so nice when they nail you to the table and shove it up your backside.

Edward Catflap:
Richie, it's your choice. I can either stuff the meat into the oven, you into the oven, or the oven into you. Which is it to be?

Richard Rich:
The former.

[about an enormous pile of meat they stole]

Richard Rich:
Good lord Eddie, how'd you get all that meat down your trousers!

Edward Catflap:
That's what all the girls say.

Richard Rich:
Smut is the last recourse of the emotional cripple, Eddie. For it is a psychological truism that they talk about that which they cannot do.

Edward Catflap:
Oh, is that why you're always talking about acting, plop-pants?

Richard Rich:
It is a psychological truism that people talk about that which they cannot do!

Edward Catflap:
Oh! And is that why you're always talking about acting, plop-pants?

Richard Rich:
...Perhaps there is a land beyond the oblivion of brain death, Eddie, where your cryptic observations may be understood. But to us earthlings, they are mere mashed potatoes, so KEEP THEM TO YOURSELF!

Edward Catflap:
[During a brainstorming session to come up with a new idea for an advert] I've always thought that Corn Flakes look a bit like people.

Richard Rich:
[sighs] And after briefly dipping his toe in the waters of reason, the man with no brain happily retreats to frollic on Insanity beach.

Richard Rich:
[off screen] Oh, I'm stretched on the rack of my own genius!

Ralph Filthy:
And what is wrong with the boy Richie?

Edward Catflap:
Well, he's trying to write a novel but he keeps on coming up against the same huge lack of talent.

Richard Rich:
Despairing of modern technology, I allowed my genius to flow through a simple, old fashioned medium. I dug out me old ballpoint.

Edward Catflap:
Oo-er.

Richard Rich:
Please Eddie, I'm not in the mood.

Ralph Filthy:
So you have written a nov then?

Richard Rich:
Better. I have mastered the highest and most complex art form known to man: I have perfected a game show formula.

Richard Rich:
This is my minder, Edward Catflap.

Jumbo Whiffy:
Terrific, terrific, well look, go get yourselves in there and we'll have a drink, you pair of old tarts. [laughs and slaps Richie on the back as he pushes him in]

Edward Catflap:
Don't mind if we do, you rectum-faced bucket of sex sauce.

Jumbo Whiffy:
You've met Jill, I take it? I don't know what I'd do without her, terrific pair of eh... eyes, eh? [indicating her bosom with his hands as he laughs]

Richard Rich:
Yeah, and fantastic knockers as well, hasn't she?

Jumbo Whiffy:
Richie, let me put it this way: when I first came into this office, there was a fat old drunk sat behind that desk mumbling platitudes. And it was me. And I'm still there. You see the way I'm thinking, Richard?

Richard Rich:
Yes.

Edward Catflap:
No.

Richard Rich:
Selina Scott! Am I forever to be surrounded by poltroons?

Edward Catflap:
Er, well, err, well... I've always thought... that cornflakes... look a bit like people...

Richard Rich:
And after briefly dipping his toe in the waters of reason, the man with no brain, happily retreats to frolic on insanity beach!

Richard Rich:
Filthy, if this is some kind of joke...

Edward Catflap:
Then it'll be the first one on the show this week!

Richard Rich:
Shut up Eddie, we've had some super laughs already and the show's only just begun.

Richard Rich:
[playing a game of Trivial Pursuit] Stop looking.

Edward Catflap:
I'm not looking.

Richard Rich:
Yes you are looking.

Edward Catflap:
I'm not.

Richard Rich:
You're looking in that lampshade and then you're seeing it reflected in my eyeballs cos they're so sparkling.

Edward Catflap:
Sounds like a cue for a gag about sparkling balls!

Anne Diamond:
Well, Mr. Filthy, I hope you're proud of yourself. Your plan to bring smut to TV-am has failed. We remain a good, clean family programme.

Ralph Filthy:
You really are as sweet and innocent as you look on the telly, aren't you?

Anne Diamond:
Yes, I am. I'm lovely.

Ralph Filthy:
Your hon, your hon, loobie, darling, sweetheart, please don't shout. I have a delicate medical condition known as a hangover.

Edward Catflap:
You try and get my wallet out of my pocket without me noticing.

Richard Rich:
All right, skip. Shouldn't be too difficult, you got hit by a bus last week and didn't notice, did you?

Edward Catflap:
Yeah, well, I had a lot on my mind.

Richard Rich:
You would do with a bus on your head, wouldn't you?

Edward Catflap:
Ha ha, brilliant joke, Richie.

Ralph Filthy:
God, I'm ill. Prison does not agree with me. This morning I coughed so hard, I blew my kidney out my backside.

Ralph Filthy:
This is no time to mince with words, Eddie. We must be honest. Richie is a lying, cheating, vicious right-wing bastard with the sexual sophistication of a mentally retarded donkey. Which means, you are ideally suited to be...

Richard Rich:
[disgusted] A journalist?

Ralph Filthy:
Yeah.

Ralph Filthy:
You mean... [puts on his hat] join the scum?

Edward Catflap:
Become a journo?

Ralph Filthy:
Yes.

Edward Catflap:
What shall we do for an encore, Filthy, set fire to a hospital?

Dingo Wucker:
How many more times do I have to tell people, I'm not interested in women over 25 unless they are lovable grannies. Now don't argue with me about this. I see our whole Budget coverage as a six-tit story, maybe even seven.

Edward Catflap:
Seven tits?

Dingo Wucker:
Yeah, profile shot, very tasteful.

Edward Catflap:
Richie?

Richard Rich:
What?

Edward Catflap:
I think there's something rather unpleasant on your trouser area.

Richard Rich:
What is it?

Edward Catflap:
My head. [headbuts Richie's groin]

Richard Rich:
My head. [headbuts Richie's groin] Oh, bloody hell, that hurt Eddie, oh ow, now that really hurt. That reall...

Edward Catflap:
I must say, that was a lot harder than I was expecting.

Edward Catflap:
[thinking up a tabloid headline for Richie] Sex, drinks, nightclubs!

Richard Rich:
I've got it: Richie has some sex and a drink in a nightclub.

Edward Catflap:
No, no. What about: Richie has sex with a knight whle drunk in a club?

Richard Rich:
Good, good. What about: Richie gets put in the club by a drunk during the night?