The Boat That Rocked

The Count:
Because if you shoot a bullet, someone dies. When you drop a bomb, many die. You hit a woman, love dies. But if you say the f-word, nothing actually happens.

The Count:
You know, a few months ago, I made a terrible mistake. I realized something, and instead of crushing the thought the moment it came I... I let it hang on, and now I know it to be true. And I'm afraid it's stuck in my head forever. These are the best days of our lives. It's a terrible thing to know, but I know it.

The Count:
To all our listeners, this is what I have to say - God bless you all. And as for you bastards in charge, don't dream it's over. Years will come, years will go, and politicians will do f*** all to make the world a better place. But all over the world, young men and young women will always dream dreams and put those dreams into song. Nothing important dies tonight, just a few ugly guys on a crappy ship. The only sadness tonight is that, in future years, there'll be so many fantastic songs that it will not be our privilege to play. But, believe you me, they will still be written, they will still be sung and they will be the wonder of the world.

Thick Kevin:
I find alcohol rather sharpens my mind...

Thick Kevin:
Sometimes, just sometimes, I think I should be called 'Clever Kevin'.

Gavin Cavanagh:
Are you doing something dirty? Are you doing something your parents don't know about? Are you breaking the law? Are you breaking the rules?

Gavin Cavanagh:
Open your knees and feel the breeze, because Gavin's back to stay!

Gavin Cavanagh:
Now it's just you and me, and I'm looking right up your skirt.

Gavin Cavanagh:
Think of me when you come

Simon:
I believe the technical term is a *f***load* of boats!

Angus:
'How about it?' How about this? Try and f*** your way out of this one Mark!

Quentin:
So... expelled?

Young Carl:
That's right.

Quentin:
What for?

Young Carl:
I suppose smoking was the clincher.

Quentin:
Drugs or cigarettes?

Young Carl:
Well, both.

Quentin:
Well done! Proud of you. So your mum sent you here in the hope that a little bracing sea air would sort you out?

Young Carl:
Something like that.

Quentin:
Spectacular mistake.

Thick Kevin:
It's type of bird, but it's wearing a hat. Not so much a hat. Something that's at the top of a coat and attached to the coat and covers the head, but is not a hat.

Young Carl:
A hood?

Thick Kevin:
Yes, and now the first name, type of bird. It's a something hood.

Young Carl:
Robin Hood! Why didn't you just say he lived in Sherwood Forest and has a bow and an arrow?

Thick Kevin:
Yeah? What? Who are you talking about?

Young Carl:
Robin Hood.

Thick Kevin:
I didn't know that.

Quentin:
The day has come. Tonight pirate radio dies. From midnight, we are a ghost ship floating without hope on cold and dark waters. You have done almighty work here. Thank you. But your work is done.

The Count:
Not mine, sir. I'm an American citizen and I don't give a hootenanny God damn about your nitpicking limey laws. I intend to broadcast from this ship 24 hours a day until the day I die. And then for a couple days after that.

Gavin Cavanagh:
Not wanting to sound rude or anything, but don't you think that might be an ever so slightly monotonous experience for the listener? What do you say to 12 hours each, noble sir?

Quentin:
Your mother is dropping by to pay us a visit before Christmas.

Young Carl:
You're kidding? When does she arrive?

Quentin:
Tomorrow. She was always very impromptu. Anyway, I thought you might like to know, in case you want to brush your hair or hide the large stack of pornography you keep on that shelf.

Angus:
The way I look at it, the world couldn't survive without my comedy, and who's going to have the moral backbone to play the Seekers when the mood is right?

Dave:
They've split up.

Angus:
I intend to celebrate the back catalogue.

Dave:
I intend to stop you doing so.

Mark:
[silently stands up and lights a cigarette]

Simon:
As some of you know, my wife left me after 17 hours of marriage, but I survived that because I live for music. And now, with nothing else to live for, I'm willing to die for it as well.

John:
I've always lived for news and weather. Happy to die for them, too. Especially the weather.

Bob Silver:
I've got nowhere else to go.

Harold:
I have somewhere else to go, but it's Peckham. So I think I'll stick around.

Felicity:
Can't let everyone starve. And I'm slightly worried where my increasingly powerful sexuality will take me when I return to normal life.

Thick Kevin:
I've got a very strong suspicion that Felicity fancies me. Not about to go anywhere, just when I'm in with a chance.

Young Carl:
Obviously, I'm in. You're the only people in the world who like me.

Quentin:
Gentlemen, I have some good news and some bad news. Which would you prefer?

Thick Kevin:
Good news.

Quentin:
Okay. The good news is the engine has exploded and we're all going to die.

Dave:
Hello, Dr Dave, Radio Rock. How is that good news?

Quentin:
I haven't yet told you how we're going to die. That's the bad news.

Simon:
How are we gonna die?

Quentin:
We're going to drown in the freezing waters of the North Sea.

Felicity:
Dearie me.

Quentin:
There is a huge hole in the side of the boat and in an unfortunate development, it transpires that the lifeboats are useless.

Thick Kevin:
[to Angus] Actually, that's quite good for you, isn't it? 'Cause you can't swim, so you'll die quicker.

Quentin:
Sorry.

Dave:
So tell us Mark, now at the very end - what was your secret? How did you get all them girls?

Mark:
Simple. Don't say anything at all.

Young" Carl:
Nothing?

Mark:
Nothing. Then, when the tension becomes too much to bear, you finally, finally, you just say: "How about it, then?"

1 Boat. 8 DJs. No Morals.

They rocked. They rolled. Then they sank.

On air. Off shore. Out of control.

Quentin:
Ah, Carl. My favourite godson... Have we ever met?

Young Carl:
I don't think so.

Quentin:
Good. There was a lost decade in there somewhere. I always have to check. [fusses around the room] So... expelled?

Young Carl:
That's right.

Quentin:
What for?

Young Carl:
I suppose smoking was the clincher.

Quentin:
Drugs or cigarettes?

Young Carl:
Well, both.

Quentin:
Well done! Proud of you. So your mum sent you here in the hope that a little bracing sea air would sort you out?

Young Carl:
Something like that.

Quentin:
Spectacular mistake.

[Discussing their female visitors]

Doctor Dave:
And how are you set up, Angus?

Angus:
Well, her name is Daphne.

Doctor Dave:
She likes the bearded man, does she?

Angus:
She does indeed.

Doctor Dave:
With a tiny knob.

Angus:
Whatever.

Thick Kevin:
I've got a tiny knob, actually, and I rather like it. Means I can wear smaller underpants.

[Stunned silence]

The Count:
Don't know what that means. I didn't understand any of that.

Young Carl:
I think I might have had a little too much to drink last night.

Thick Kevin:
Actually, I find alcohol rather sharpens my mind.

Young Carl:
[amused] Really?

Thick Kevin:
Yes, and I was thinking...

Young Carl:
Dangerous.

Thick Kevin:
...that it's a bit weird for your mum to send you here to get you on the straight and narrow when this is obviously the worst possible place in the world to do that. There's sex and drugs and alcohol.

Young Carl:
Without the sex.

Thick Kevin:
And so I think you're here because it's exactly the right time for a young man, like you, to get to know his dad.

Young Carl:
[pause] And?

Thick Kevin:
I therefore think your dad is somewhere on this boat. And since it's definitely not me, I think it's probably Quentin. Sometimes, just sometimes, I think I should have been called Clever Kevin. What do you think about that? [rolls over and rolls off the bed]

Young Carl:
Oh, by the way, our late night DJ Bob? He just wanted to tell you, "Muddy Waters rocks".

Charlotte:
Oh my God, he didn't... He didn't tell you, did he?

Young Carl:
Tell me what?

Charlotte:
What?

Young Carl:
Oh no, you didn't... You didn't sleep with him, did you?

Charlotte:
Well, of course I slept with him. Everyone did. He was absolutely gorgeous.

Young Carl:
[confused] You're talking about Bob? Bearded, beasty Bob?

Charlotte:
Well, I can't speak to the beast part but I can tell you that back then, he was clean shaven.

Young Carl:
When?

Charlotte:
Oh I don't know. Quit badgering me. [pause] How old are you?

Young Carl:
Eighteen and a half.

Charlotte:
Well, I guess it would have been nineteen and a quarter years ago. Give or take. [Carl is silent as he realises Bob is his father] There's my boat. That poor man must have been waiting for ages. I'm so glad we got that sorted out, aren't you? [gets on the boat to shore] And tell Mark... you know... that it was a lovely, lovely night.

Young Carl:
[appalled] No! No!