The Comic Strip Presents...

Colin Grigson:
[trying to sound cool] Uh, yeah, thanks, Mrs Grigson.

Colin's mum:
No need to be so formal Colin. After all, I am your mother. [he cringes]

Helen:
[voice over] Now all that Spider needs to do is convince his wife to let him join the group again.

Spider Web:
Darling, would it be all right if I got back together with the band?

Spider's wife:
Hmmm. [pause]

Spider's wife:
All right

Vim Fuego:
[surprised] That went rather well.

Carlos:
I don't think I like this place.

Miguel:
I don't think I like you.

Carlos:
I don't think I heard that.

Miguel:
I don't think I said it.

Carlos:
I don't think... therefore I am.

Mr. Bastardos:
[singing] Everybody happy? Oh la la la la la!

Miguel:
[complaining to hotel manager] How come there's no soft toilet paper?

Mr. Bastardos:
This is the "Hotel Bastardos"! You want the soft toilet paper? You go to the Hotel Gayboy!

Vim Fuego:
I could play "Stairway To Heaven" when I was 12. Jimmy Page didn't actually write it until he was 22. I think that says quite a lot.

Vim Fuego:
I mean, we'd be as rich as the Stones if only we'd sold as many records as them.

Den Dennis:
You're lucky I don't knock your f***in' head in.

Sandy Johnson:
There's no need to get violent, is there? And try not to swear so much, please, for the sake of this film...

Den Dennis:
You can always put in a f***ing bleep, can't you?

Cashier:
Two pounds and five pence, please, love.

Den Dennis:
Two quid? Two quid for one bloody sausage?

Cashier:
That's right, love. Two pounds and five pence.

Den Dennis:
Right, where's the camera? [Holds sausage up to camera] Look. [to cashier] What's the name of this place? [Cashier backs away] Well, anyway, it's a rip-off. Look, they're charging two quid for one bloody sausage! So don't come here!

Cashier:
It was clearly marked, love. Sausage, beans and chips, two pounds and five pence.

Den Dennis:
Well, I haven't got two quid, have I? Can I have half a sausage for a quid?

Cashier:
No you can't.

Mrs. Moss:
Always put a dead badger on a head wound.

Mrs. Moss:
I may be a loveable old cockney racist, but I do like my reggae music.

Pauline Sneak:
I don't want to go on Wogan with a man who makes things - this isn't the seventies.

Carl Moss:
Consider the ways of the grebe. They swim, they fly, but do they road test bicycles? Do they, shite.

Neighbour:
Well?

Bean:
Well?

Neighbour:
What do you want?

Bean:
The usual things... peace, happiness

Neighbour:
and you got me off the lavatory to tell me this?

Bean:
I didn't get you off the lavatory

Neighbour:
Well somebody got me off the lavatory

Bean:
Were you stuck?

Neighbour:
What?

[Outside shot of George and Anne's tent; Timmy the dog is poking his head inside and wagging his tail]

George:
Oh, Timmy! You're so licky!

Anne:
You shouldn't let him do that, George, it's not hygienic.

George:
But we like it! Don't we, Timmy?

[repeated line]

Julian, Dick, Anne, George:
And lashings of ginger beer!

Dick:
[pointing at the black station porter pushing their luggage on a trolley] I say, Ju! That man looks foreign!

George:
Yes, I expect his name's 'Golliwog'!

Anne:
[giggles] Yes, or Tarzan!

Julian:
I think we'd better call the police just as soon as we get back to Kirrin Cottage.

Dick:
Thanks, Anne. You really are a proper little housewife. Not like George, she still thinks she's a boy!

George:
I think it's stupid being a girl. I wish I was a boy.

Dick:
Really, George! It's about time you gave up thinking you're as good as a boy. I mean, Anne is just a girl, but she doesn't mind, do you, Anne?

George:
Well, I absolutely do mind, actually!

Julian:
Steady on, you two, the hols have only just started.

Anne:
[putting her hand on his arm] You seem so grown up, Julian.

Dick:
Oh, wizard!

Dick:
[thanking the shopkeeper] You really are a brick!

Toby Thurlow:
[looking at Anne's breasts] You're pretty well developed for a 10 year old.

[Julian and George find a rundown hut with rusting cars, bank safes and coffins lying around outside]

Julian:
Look, that car's got no motor tax.

George:
Maybe it belongs to an illegal immigrant.

Julian:
I shouldn't be surprised.

George:
What a strange, desolate place.

[Julian knocks on the door. A huge, hairy man wearing a tatty string vest and sunglasses steps out]

Dirty Dick:
[Cockney accent] Yeah?

Julian:
Ah, good evening. Uh, we're the Famous Five and we're camping down by the lake and we need some food. We'd like some free range eggs, you own home-baked bread, some of your own cured bacon and your own honey and some tomatoes from your garden would do splendidly.

Dirty Dick:
Oh yeah? What do think this is, 'Arrods? Come on, piss off now! And don't speak to any coppers about me!

Julian:
I don't think I really like the tone of your voice.

Fingers:
[offscreen - also has a Cockney accent] 'Oo's that, then Dick? It's not the rozzers, I 'ope!

Dirty Dick:
Nah, just a couple of smarmy brats!

Fingers:
Tell 'em to scarper! There's some more dirty work to do.

George:
Wait a minute! You must be Dirty Dick.

Dirty Dick:
[nervous] No, no, my name's not Dirty Dick. It's er, it's er... Dirty Douglas!

Julian:
Look here. There's something very queer going on. What exactly are you doing in there?

Dirty Dick:
Oh, so you've tumbled our game, have you?

Fingers:
What's that? What's that? Are we done for, Dirty?

Dirty Dick:
Sorry, Fingers. I'm afraid we're bang to rights this time.

Fingers:
Let's make a run for it, Dirty! You start the car while I grab the sparklers. We can still get away with it!

Dirty Dick:
It's no good, Fingers! These kids are far too clever for us! We'll get 15 years each for this!

Fingers:
Oh, no! Not another stretch in clink! I'm gonna take the easy way out!

[sound of a gunshot, then a thud]

George:
Urgh! What a horrid, common voice he's got!

Dirty Dick:
Oh well, I suppose I'd better go down to the police station and get nicked, then.

Anne:
Oh, do wipe your feet, Dick, I've only just dusted there.

Dick:
My word, Anne, you really are a proper little housewife! It must be awful being a girl and having to do all the work.

Anne:
Well, yes, it would be nice to do some of the more exciting things that you boys do. Still, I don't mind being dominated. At least I'm quiet and pretty and not like poor George.

Julian:
I say, where's young Toby got to?

Dick:
Oh, he's been kidnapped.

Julian:
Typical.

George:
Serves him right for being nouveau riche!

Anne:
Yes, and Jewish!

[they laugh]

Dirty Dick:
Right. Let's run through our evil plan once more, Mr. Knuckles.

Fingers:
Right you are, Mr. Lenin.

[inside the tent]

Dick:
[whispering] Wake up, Ju. I can hear voices.

Julian:
I can't hear anything.

Dick:
Listen. There it is again.

Fingers:
Blah, blah, blah, stolen plans, blah, blah, blah, missing scientist, blah, blah, blah.

Dick:
Shh.

Fingers:
Blah, blah, blah, atom bomb, blah, blah, blah, Third World War, blah, blah, blah.

Dick:
Shh!

Fingers:
Blah, blah, blah, Kneecap Hill, blah, blah, blah, top secret, blah, blah, blah, kidnapped boy, blah, blah, blah, everything ties up, blah, blah, blah.

Dick:
Shh! Missing scientists? Kneecap Hill? Do me a favour? Big secret? What do you think it all means?

Julian:
I'm not sure, Dick, but it all sounds very queer!

Anne:
Gosh, Isn't it sad to think there are people in the world who are starving?

George:
Yes I suppose it is, but if they didn't breed like rabbits there'd be more to go round

Anne:
Yes that's true

Julian:
Mind you, half of them die in childbirth so it must all even out in the end, I suppose.

Anne:
Oh dear, I do wish there was something we could do to help

Dick:
Poor old Anne, just like a girl to get het up on world problems on a lovely day like this

George:
Well it doesn't worry me

Julian:
I agree with Dick, Africa's miles away from here, come on let's enjoy the hols.

Ian Crisp:
So, the bottom line is, none of us is qualified to actually make a decision.

Tim:
What do you do?

Angie:
I'm a typist?

Tim:
Oh really? I thought you were a prostitute.

Angie:
Charming.

Tim:
How much do you charge? Take a cheque do you?

Tim:
Tim stop it! Tim stop it! Tim stop it! Tim stop it! That's a typical Franny remark. Franny's a nymphomaniac too aren't you Franny?

Gordon:
I've tried several of the TV companies... BASTARDs, it's too controversial that's the problem. I mean I could write that sh*t but what's the point in compromising?

Gordon:
This is a good bit. This guy's you're age and he meets a sailor at the pub, he says "I bet she's good at it" nodding to the girl at the bar. The sailor "Not me mate, I'm queer, what do you see in girls? I don't know". It's supposed to be North Country I can't do the accent.

Milk Policeman:
I was just thinking on the way up here, Gino, What's the boy done? He's robbed a post office, stolen a few cars and I thought what's that worth? About 5 years, maybe 3 years with good behavior... Out there Gino there are 50 armed bully boys offering certain death in the event of an injury to a fellow officer, so I thought what would I do in your position? Come down the station for a chat or die in a hail of bullets?

Gino:
Yeah I saw what you did to that Mini you arsehole.

Milk Policeman:
Then I thought you lucky bastard, what a celebrity, paper's queuing to buy your story , you know chequebook journalism? Film producers paying thousands for the film rights. I thought, that's crime for you, three years in the nick and you wind up a millionaire.

Vim Fuego:
Yeah, "Warrior of Genghis Khan" is a political song.

Sally:
Burning looting raping shooting, repeat.

Vim Fuego:
Well I guess it's more poetical political

Sally:
Isn't it just macho-male egotistical dominance along with orgiastic blood letting and violence against women?

Den Dennis:
Yeah, that's the bits I like.

Colin Grigson:
[the camera has seen him in his business suit] No. No, er... I'm not Colin, I'm... I'm... I'm Trevor. I'm Trevor, Colin's twin brother. If you want Colin, he'll probably be round at his pad... because he's frightfully... groovy.

Colin Grigson:
Come along, then, lets do all the rumpty dumpty bismila business, then we can all get off home and get some kip. I've got to be up working at the bank at 9:30.

Vim Fuego:
If you were playing a G, then I'm a queer!

Spider Web:
We've always had our doubts about you, Vim.

Den Dennis:
Yeah, well, maybe you are bloody queer!

Rachel:
I have booked you, Bad News, to play the Monsters of Rock festival, Castle Donington.

Colin Grigson:
Another heavy-metal day. No sleep until Castle Donington. Better have some vibes.

Vim Fuego:
Donington, I mean it's just unbelievable, it's like the heavy-metal centre of the universe and Bad News are going to be there... this is big league, all we have to do now is blow Ozzy of the stage.

Lemmy:
I thought Bad News hit a new high in altruistic, self-indulgent. bullshit. mollycoddled mother my dog instinct rock and roll. I thought it was the worst kind of pimply sh*t of the worst kind of city ghetto probably populated by winos, junkies and general all round f***-ups.

Mr. Jolly:
Look, just because my second name is Jolly doesn't mean I have to be jolly all the f***ing time!

[repeated line]

Mr. Jolly:
And no-one knows you're here?

[Nicholas Parsons knocks on Mr Jolly's door]

Mr. Jolly:
[calling through door] Who is it?

Nicholas Parsons:
Nicholas Parsons.

Mr. Jolly:
F*** off.

Nicholas Parsons:
I said Nicholas Parsons.

Mr. Jolly:
I know, f*** off. I don't care if you're Bob Monkhouse, f*** off.

Nicholas Parsons:
Do you think I could use your telephone?

[Mr Jolly opens the door]

Mr. Jolly:
Do I have to spell it out? F-U...

Nicholas Parsons:
What is this game?

Dreamytime Escort:
[drunkenly] Well, these are the rules.

Nicholas Parsons:
Yes?

Dreamytime Escort:
I go out of the room.

Nicholas Parsons:
Yes?

Dreamytime Escort:
Then...

Nicholas Parsons:
Yes?

Dreamytime Escort:
I come back in.

Nicholas Parsons:
Yes?

Dreamytime Escort:
You got that?

Nicholas Parsons:
Yes.

Dreamytime Escort:
Right. I'll go first.

Dreamytime Escort, Dreamytime Escort:
Escorts, bescorts - Come in if you're saucy!

[repeated line]

Dreamytime Escort:
Nicholas bloody Parsons!

Dreamytime Escort:
Morning, Ralph, how's the fluffy toy business?

Mr. Jolly:
Who the bloody hell are you, what fluffy...Oh, brilliant, yeah.

Dreamytime Escort:
Well, that's Fattie's money out of the window.

Dreamytime Escort:
And Fattie.

Dreamytime Escort:
Well, it's his own fault. You shouldn't play "let's see who can fall out of the window the best" when you're drunk.

Dreamytime Escort:
Not on the 18th floor, no.

Dreamytime Escort:
All I'm saying is that one advertisement in the Times saying, "What are you doing this weekend, fancy getting drunk?" won't work. You've got to put the telephone number!

Dreamytime Escort:
But we know the telephone number!

Dreamytime Escort:
[answering phone] Dreamytime Escorts! Ah-ha...ah-ha...er, ah-ha...yeah, ah-ha...ah-ha-ha-ha-ha...ah-ha, ah-ha-haa...ah-ha...ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha...ah-ha...ah-haa-haa-haa...errr...okay!

[hangs up]

Dreamytime Escort:
What was that?

Dreamytime Escort:
Wrong number.

[they sigh]

Dreamytime Escort:
Only joking! It's an engagement for this morning, ten o'clock. A Mr Yakimoto.

Dreamytime Escort:
Oh God. Another French bastard.

Dreamytime Escort:
God bless Heimi Henderson.

Dreamytime Escort:
Living above an off-license, what could be better?

Dreamytime Escort:
Living in one?

Dreamytime Escort:
You're right. We must become a lot more friendly with Heimi Henderson.

Dreamytime Escort:
What's Mr Jolly got that we haven't got?

Dreamytime Escort:
Our bloody Fairy Liquid.

Dreamytime Escort:
One thousand, five hundred and seventy four gin and tonics please Monica.

Dreamytime Escort:
LARGE ones.

Policeman:
Are you drunk, sir?

Dreamytime Escort:
Of course I am, I'm out of my bloody mind, I've just spent three thousand quid in there.

Dreamytime Escort:
So, Nicholas. I suppose you spend most of your time opening supermarkets and heliports, these days.

Nicholas Parsons:
Well, yes. You... You know how it is. As a matter of fact tomorrow I am opening an off-license.

Dreamytime Escort:
[both Dreamytime Escorts stare at Nicholas] You're opening an off-license?

Nicholas Parsons:
Yes, an off-license.

Dreamytime Escort:
GOD! Imagine being so important you can open an off-license!

Dreamytime Escort:
And we're with him right now, aren't we Nicky baby?

Dreamytime Escort:
Yes yes yes, it's a fantastic house, Nicholas. Now. Have you got any dirty films?

Nicholas Parsons:
No!

Dreamytime Escort:
You BASTARD!

Nicholas Parsons:
What exactly was your winning slogan?

Dreamytime Escort:
Never, ever, bloody anything ever!

Nicholas Parsons:
And that was your winning slogan?

Dreamytime Escort:
That's the one, Nicky. I've lived my life by that rule.

Nicholas Parsons:
"I would like to spend an evening with Nicholas Parsons because...never, ever, ever, bloody anything ever"?

Dreamytime Escort:
You're pissed, aren't you, Nicholas?

Mr. Lovebucket:
Now if you don't kill Nicholas Parsons by twelve o'clock, I'll kill you. Make it tidy.

[puts down a handgun]

Mr. Lovebucket:
But if you can't do that, make it messy.

[one of Mr Jolly's henchmen puts down a chainsaw]

Henchman #2:
Yeah. And if you can't make it messy...

[puts down a pair of hand grenades]

Henchman #2:
...make it noisy.

Henchman #3:
And if you can't make it noisy...make it stupid.

[puts down a stuffed toy rabbit]

Dreamytime Escort:
[cut to scene mid-conversation]... and she said "Well, I don't think you're a fishmonger. I think you've done a plop in the wrong lavatory."

Boy Madness:
Concerning Squealer: One day, when I've got time, and I'm not busy, I'm gonna take all his skin off.

Little Sister:
Little Sister To Ricki, both aged nearly 18: When we're old and 25 we can get married.

[Stan and Billy are holding Mary hostage. Her estranged Bank manger, husband Max has just come in to pick up a few things. He realises that Mary is not alone and that Stan and Billy are carrying loaded weapons]

Max:
Mary, Mary. There's no necessity for s. I'm not a violent man. You know that. All I came for was a clean pair of socks and the wedding photograph and I'll be right out...

Mary:
Shut up Max! These men want to rob your bank. They're going to hold me hostage while you go the bank and get the money.

Billy:
There's six million in there. We want it all.

Max:
[Looking at a clock's he's tucked away in his overcoat pocket] It's closed now.

Billy:
Well open it.

Stan:
yeah, you've the keys. We've seen you.

Max:
Yeah, well I have but unfortunately the vault's on a time clock. Nobody can open it till tomorrow.

Billy:
What we going to do Stan?

Max:
I know. You can stay here tonight. I'll cook dinner.

Billy:
What we having?

Max:
What about Risotto?

Billy:
Sounds poncy.

Stan:
No Billy. I like Risotto. Do you wanna hand?

[Mary gives an annoyed look. She's clearly not amused by the odd situation]

Passenger:
I'll have a bloody Mary.

Billy:
We've only got bloody lager.

Needle:
I'm a cold heartless space b*tch and I'm here to get pregnant, understand?

Ursula:
So Pete

Peter:
Umm Peter, I prefer Peter

Ursula:
Yes I think I might prefer Peter... to all the other men here

Peter:
Really? umm... what's your name?

Ursula:
Ursula but you can call me Urs

Peter:
Ursula right?

Ursula:
So Peter

Peter:
Yes

Ursula:
Is your seed plenteous?

Susie:
Yes Lucy?

Lucy Schoolchild:
It's not ten past yet

Susie:
I must say I'm finding it very hard to relate to you these days, why do you have to be so pernickety all the time?

Lucy Schoolchild:
How do you spell pernickety miss?

Susie:
F-U-C-K-O-double F, Okay?

Brian Epstein:
Starting first of June, 12 weeks, all right? Top of the bill, Lena Martell; Bimbo the Performing Dog; Zelda the Hypnotist...

Michael White:
What's he done?

Brian Epstein:
What's he done? He's done 12 weeks at Blackpool, that's all he's done. Alright, no, listen... compere-cum-comic, he doubles up, you win at both ends, Johnny Clamp, right? You can't go wrong. And the music, we've got a lovely little combo... [consults scrap of paper] called The Beatles. Right? There you go. Joan of Arc haircuts and rock n' roll, the kids love it.

Michael White:
What do they do?

Brian Epstein:
What do they do? About fifteen minutes, they're good for a fill, they're excellent.

Michael White:
Alright, I'll tell you what I'll do. Drop the hypnotist; I like Joan of Arc, I'll take the combo.

Eleanor:
What's it like to be successful, Alan?

Alan:
Success? Well, it's like going to an orgy in clean underpants.

Eleanor:
Oh, wow!

Alan:
It's Marlon Brando throwing up in your bathroom.

Eleanor:
Oh, crazy!

Charles:
[to Kurt] This is a copy of Alan's latest book. I think you're going to love it, Kurt. It's one hundred percent pure guaranteed filth, and I'm not just saying that.

Jeremy:
[on telephone] Look, I don't care if you're happily married and you've got four kids and you've emigrated to Australia. Why can't we just forget all that and start again, for God's sake!

Charles:
[to Alan]... and do you know what he did then? He took an ordinary drinking straw, and cut a little nick, and put the straw into the nick and blew the whole thing up to the size of a balloon. And then he said, "D'you want to play pat-ball?"

[Kix is working under the sink with a wrench]

Kix:
See, the thing is Des, lead's very valuable 'cause it's heavy. You see, the heavier something is, the more valuable it is. The only exception to this rule is concrete.

[Jeremy is furiously painting the lawn with a large paintbrush]

Anne:
Hey wow, that's crazy, what are you doing?

Jeremy:
Well it's pretty obvious, isn't it?

Anne:
Look, I know this may sound really crass, Jeremy, but I like you. You know, I like your style. I like your naked agression. I really like the way you don't sleep at night.

Jeremy:
[even more angrily] Well, people think it's easy to be a rebel. Well, it bloody isn't! People just write stroppy plays about me. God it makes me so mad!

Desmond:
Pretty free here, isn't it?

Charles:
Well, I'm not paying.

[Desmond and Eleanor are in bed. Desmond is frantically licking Eleanor's cheek and Eleanor is reading a magazine. Alan sits on the end of the bed]

Alan:
I don't think this sex thing is happening, Desmond. Eleanor looks bored.

Desmond:
Is she?

Alan:
Eleanor?

Eleanor:
What?

Alan:
When Desmond's doing that to you, does the earth move at all?

Eleanor:
[sighs] No, only the bed.

Kix:
How old are you?

Judy:
Fourteen.

Kix:
Got any younger sisters?

[Judy shakes her head]

Kix:
Or pets?

Eleanor:
[Enters on crutches] Alan, Alan, look, I did it. I've finally cut it off.

Alan:
Where's the leg?

Eleanor:
At the hospital.

Alan:
But it's the leg we're interested in.

[first lines]

Verity:
We're all very excited about your script, aren't we David?

Film Executive:
Oh, we all love the script. All of us.

Verity:
It's so wonderful. It's... It's quite fabulous.

Film Executive:
Absolutely

Verity:
It's brilliant, quite brilliant.

Bernard:
Yes, well what initially attracted me to the idea is...

Verity:
[to waiter] Bucks Fizz, please.

Bernard:
...is there's this unashamedly powerful, socialist epic. And as a director, the way Paul's captured the sheer size of the struggle...

Film Executive:
[to waiter] Anything but a Coca Cola, thank you.

Bernard:
...millions of people unemployed. Families ripped apart, whole communities on tranquilisers.

[to waiter]

Bernard:
Thank you. It's... It's... It's magnificent.

Verity:
No, It's smashing stuff. I mean when I got to the end I felt as if I had been through the miners' strike myself.

Film Executive:
Oh absolutely! I mean if we're going to revitalize the British film industry from an American perspective then 'Miners Strike' is undoubtedly the sort of film we should be doing this year.

Verity:
Oh, I agree. It has terrific potential.

Film Executive:
[pause] What about Al Pacino as Arthur Scargill?

Goldie:
Can Pacino box?

Yob monster:
[chants] Arse-nal /Arse-nal /Arse-nal.

Yob monster:
Ya WHAT!