Spaced, Season 1

Tim:
You're scared of mice and spiders, but oh-so-much greater is your fear that one day the two species will cross-breed to form an all-powerful race of mice-spiders, who will immobilize human beings in giant webs in order to steal cheese.

Daisy:
I never said that.

Tim:
Yeah, but it'd be good though, wouldn't it?

Daisy:
[shrugs] I dunno.

[To his ex-girlfriend Sarah]

Tim:
You can't dangle the bogus carrot of possible reconciliation in front of my face whilst riding some other... donkey.

Daisy:
Do you want another cup of tea?

Tim:
Ooh, no thanks, twelve's my limit.

Daisy:
What do you do, Brian?

Brian:
I'm an artist.

Daisy:
Oh, Tim's an artist. What kind of thing do you do?

Brian:
Anger.

[Shot of Brian attacking the canvas furiously]

Brian:
Pain.

[Shot of Brian pricking his finger with a needle and whimpering]

Brian:
Fear.

[Shot of Brian cowering in the dark as creepy music plays]

Brian:
Aggression.

[Shot of Brian violently smashing an egg with a hammer]

Daisy:
Watercolours?

Brian:
It's a bit more complex than that.

Daisy:
Tim does cartoons.

Tim:
It's a bit more complex than that.

Tim:
[being dumped] I don't understand, just... eergh... give me a reason! You think I'm unemotional, don't you? I can be emotional! Jesus I cried like child at the end of Terminator 2... You know, with the thumb, and the molten...

Daisy:
Do you rent downstairs?

Brian:
D'you mean am I gay?

Daisy:
What?

Brian:
D'you mean am I gay?

Daisy:
No, I meant "are you renting the downstairs flat?"

Brian:
Oh, right. Yep, sort of.

Tim:
Are you gay?

Brian:
What?

Tim:
Are you gay?

Brian:
[Thoughtfully] No.

Mike:
Wanna go back into your party?

Tim:
But they were playing 'The Time Warp'! I hate 'The Time Warp'!

Mike:
Daisy likes it.

Tim:
I don't care! I hate it! It's boil-in-the-bag perversion for sexually repressed accountants and first-year drama students with too many posters of Betty Blue, The Blues Brothers, Big Blue and Blue Velvet on their blue bloody walls!

Tim:
What is this? This is rubbish! We should be listening to firm young melodies, kicking tunes, thumping bass! God I sound so stupid!

Brian:
I'm busy Tim, painting a triptych.

Tim:
Oh yeah what's it called?

Brian:
Bad sandwich.

Tim:
Really?

Brian:
Yes.

Tim:
Mmm.

Brian:
It's a piece about violence in its immediacy, the instancy of the event. A synchronic rendering of three explosive, aggressive, expressions...

Tim:
There'll be girls at the party.

Brian:
Really?

Tim:
Yes.

Brian:
Mmmmm...

Daisy:
You're up early.

Tim:
Oh, I haven't been to bed. Me and Mike met up with these two Scottish guys in the pub and they gave us all this cheap speed.

Daisy:
Oh Tim, that's so tacky.

Tim:
Yeah I know, but y'know they were so nice... I think if we'd said no they'd have got offended and beaten us to death with a pool cue.

Daisy:
Where's Mike?

[cuts briefly to shot of Mike running around a tree, revving an imaginary motorbike and making engine noises]

Tim:
[shrugs; and mumbles:] I dunno.

Vulva:
Abstract expressionism is so mid-to-late eighties.

Tim:
You know when you said it went well? Well, when you said well, did you mean shite?

Daisy:
Right, I'm going to the shops. D'you want anything?

Tim:
Porn.

Daisy:
Tim, I'm not going to buy you porn. You can get it from railway sidings like everybody else.

Tim:
I can't, I'm an adult. I'm supposed to leave it there.

Tim:
LOOK! Daisy... Daisy, Daisy, Daisy... It's gonna be okay... Now have a big toke on this South-African drugs reefer style splif doobie.

[After practicing introducing himself in a mirror]

Brian:
Brian. Painter. Loser. Big... f***ing loser.

Vulva:
[noticing Brian at the after-show party] Oh Brian, you came!

Brian:
No, I just spilt my drink.

Vulva:
I can't believe some of the shit I used to do with you!

Tim:
[On Resident Evil] It's a subtle blend of lateral thinking and extreme violence.

Brian:
What, like "It's A Knock Out"?

[After Brian has received his party invite]

Tim:
So are you going to go?

Brian:
I don't know. I haven't seen her for ages.

Tim:
No. I mean, are you going to go, now?

Brian:
Oh, yeah. [He leaves]

Tim:
Brian's coming up.

Daisy:
Why'd he phone?

Tim:
I dunno, why'd he paint his arse blue last week?

Daisy:
You don't like him, do you?

Tim:
No, I do. I just think he's a bit pretentious.

[Brian enters, wearing a very loud waistcoat]

Brian:
How do you think I look?

Tim:
Bit pretentious?

Brian:
Do you think I should lose the waistcoat?

Tim:
I think you should burn it. Because if you lose it, you might find it again.

[Inspired by Tim's punching of Vulva]

Brian:
Vulva turned me into a monkey! I'm not a monkey! I'm a man! A monkey... man!

Tim:
So what happened last night then?

Daisy:
Well we went to see an interesting piece of contemporary theatre, drank an enormous amount of free wine, ate our body-weight in Twiglets and you punched an artist in the face.

Tim:
Shit, I'm not supposed to eat Twiglets

Daisy:
Why not?

Tim:
They make me violent

Tim:
Where are you?

Mike:
Uh, Sheffield.

Tim:
What are you doing in Sheffield?

Mike:
I fell asleep on the tube.

Tim:
The tube doesn't go to Sheffield, Mike.

Mike:
Yeah, I know, I, uh, must have changed at Kings Cross.

Tim:
Alright, well don't fall asleep on the way back ok?

[Mike falls asleep on the phone]

Tim:
Mike?

Tim:
Now come on! There's no reason to stay here any longer than necessary! Let's split up, look for survivors and get out of here!

Daisy:
You're so damaged; just because Sarah hurt you, you feel justified in wreaking your petty vengeance on womankind.

Tim:
Yes... yes... and I'd do it again, I tell you, I'd do it again in an instant! [Laughs manically then jumps out of the window]

Tim:
We're going paintballing later.

Daisy:
I thought Mike was banned?

Tim:
Only for six months.

Daisy:
Oh, yeah? And how does that poor accountant feel about that?

[Scene changes to a shell-shocked accountant in a straight jacket and padded room]

Brian:
Can I borrow a tea-bag?

Tim:
[sarcastically] Only if you bring it back. [pauses] You can HAVE a tea-bag, Brian, you can't borrow one.

Brian:
What are you playing?

Tim:
Tomb Raider 3.

Brian:
She's drowning.

Tim:
Yeah.

Brian:
Is that the point of the game?

Tim:
Depends what mood you're in really.

Brian:
What sort of mood are you in then?

Tim:
Well, I got a letter from my ex-girlfriend this morning, 3 months too late, explaining why she dumped me. It was full of 'you'll always be special' and 'I'll always love you' platitudes designed to make me feel better whilst simultaneously appeasing her deep seated sense of guilt for dumping me, running off with a slimy little city boy called Duane and destroying my faith in everything which is good and pure.

Brian:
So it didn't really work then.

Tim:
No, it made me wanna drown things! [turns around, sees Brian dressed as a painting] You've got paint on you.

Brian:
It's a literal tribute to the self reflexivity of Rembrandt.

Tim:
Did he like it?

Brian:
He's dead.

Tim:
Bloody hell, that really backfired.

Daisy:
C'mon, Colin! We're taking you away from this place.

Twist:
Colin?

Daisy:
That's what I called my box.

Paintball player:
Gosh, this is so exciting!

Mike:
This your first time, kid?

Paintball player:
I'm thirty-six.

Mike:
This your first time, old man?

Paintball player:
Yeah. I've always fancied myself as a bit of a soldier.

Tim:
Yeah, I've always fancied myself.

Mike:
I've always fancied you...

Tim:
[quickly] Not here!

Paintball player:
You've done this before, then?

Mike:
You could say that.

Paintball player:
What do you mean?

Mike:
Well, let's just say the last time I was in this situation, I wasn't using a paintball gun.

Paintball player:
[in awe] You've seen combat?

Mike:
Yes, yes I have.

Paintball player:
Where?

Mike:
Umm, on the television!

Paintball player:
But you just said the last time you were in this situation you didn't use a paintball gun!

Tim:
He didn't.

Paintball player:
Well, what did you use?

Mike:
Erm, it was a big stick...?

[About Duane]':

Tim:
He's made this personal.

Mike:
I thought he made it personal when he slept with your girlfriend.

Tim:
Well, he's made it more personal.

Mike:
I don't think it gets much more personal than sleeping with your girlfriend, Tim.

Duane:
You know what they say about love and war.

Tim:
Yeah, one involves a lot of physical and psychological pain and the other one's war.

Duane:
See Tim, that's the difference between you and I. Organization. Careful thinking. Forward planning. And that is why I sleep in the arms of a beautiful woman and you spend your evenings alone in your bedsit. With cheap porn.

Tim:
It's not a bedsit. It's a flat. [Shoots Duane in the groin]

Tim:
Yes! [Turns and sees Mike on the floor] No Mike! Mike! Oh Jesus no!

[Mike throws up paint out of his mouth]

Tim:
MEDIC!

Mike:
Is that you Tim?

Tim:
Yeah I'm here man, just hold on, hold on!

Mike:
I'm tired Tim.

Tim:
Just err... everything's going to be fine I promised. (Cries) I'm sorry I said those things, I just.. wasn't thinking straight.

Mike:
I can say some pretty stupid things myself sometimes.

Tim:
No Mike I'm the stupid one. I've always been the stupid one.

[Mike smiles]

Tim:
What are you laughing it?

Mike:
I guess I got to be the hero after all.

Tim:
Yeah, I guess you did.

Mike:
I've gotta, I've gotta sleep.

Tim:
No no Mike stay with me.

Mike:
So tired, so tired. Goodbye old friend.

Tim:
No Mike!

[Mike seemingly somehow dies from his paintball injuries]

Tim:
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Brian:
So where is he then? The little dog?

Daisy:
[squeaks and points at Brian]

Brian:
The headband isn't it? Makes me look stupid?

Daisy:
(whimpering) Colin..!

Brian:
...No, Daisy, it's me, Brian...

Daisy:
I think you're sitting on my dog....

Daisy:
In the end, our relationship was just like a sandwich toaster. You know, you just forget you've got one. And it just sits there on the top of the cupboard collecting a layer of greasy fudge. And even if you do see it you just assume it's broken, you think if it's working I'd be using it all the time, but you don't and it just sits there. Then one day, you get an overwhelming desire for toasted sandwiches, you know? And you get it down and it works, and you can't believe it, you know? And then you make every kind of toasted sandwich there is, you have toasted sandwich parties. You make Marmite and cheese, chocolate and...

Tim:
Pilchards.

Daisy:
Banana and...

Bilbo:
Acorns.

Daisy:
Acorns. And then as quickly as the desire comes, it just goes. And then you put the toasted sandwich maker away. And, you know what?

Tim:
What?

Daisy:
You don't miss it.

Bilbo:
So what you're saying is 'Don't hide the toasted sandwich maker away, use him regularly and you'll get the most out of him'.

Tim:
No, she's saying 'Chuck your boyfriend, have a sandwich'.

Mike:
When friends are concerned, sacrifices have to be made.

Tim:
You mean we kill the dog?

Mike:
[whilst nodding] No...

Tim:
Spoil sport.

[About Colin the dog.]

Daisy:
How can you not like him? He's so cute. Aw...

Tim:
Yeah, that's how it all starts, with oohs and ahs, but later there's barking and biting! He's a ticking timebomb of death, Daisy. You give him all the love in the world and spend years of your life doting on his little furry head, and then one day you get back from aerobics and there he is, panting over the half eaten remains of some hapless handyman you left fixing the tumble dryer.

Daisy:
We don't have a tumble dryer.

Tim:
You will, my friend. You will.

Daisy:
Look, Tim, I know that I've been insensitive, and I do appreciate that you are riddled with deep seated psychological disorders -

Tim:
Thank you.

[After an original Star Wars trilogy marathon]

Tim:
You know, Brian, everything that happened in those movies can be attributed to the actions of one man.

Brian:
Who?

Tim:
The gunner on the Star Destroyer in the first film.

Brian:
What d'you mean?

Tim:
[chuckles in a knowing way] Well, if he'd shot the pod with Artoo and Threepio in, they wouldn't have made it to Tatooine, they wouldn't have met Luke, Luke wouldn't have met Ben, they wouldn't have met Han and Chewie, they wouldn't have saved Princess Leia, none of it would have happened.

Brian:
Chaos theory....

Tim:
Eh?

Brian:
The predictability of random events. The notion that reality as we know it - past, present, future - is in fact a mathematically predictable preordained system.

Daisy:
So somewhere out there in the vastness of the unknown is an... equation... for predicting the future?

Brian:
An equation so complex as to utterly defy any possibility of comprehension by even the most brilliant human mind, but an equation nonetheless.

Tim:
[In dawning realization] Oh my god...

Brian:
What?

Daisy:
What?

Tim:
I've got some f***ing Jaffa Cakes in my coat pocket.

[They all cheer]

Tim:
[Sings] Oh Mummy, Oh Daddy, Lets all play Kabadi.

Tim:
Mike, I'll see you back here at twenty-two hundred hours. Everyone else, I'll see you back here at ten.

[Tim speaks to Mike on the phone]

Tim:
What you doing playing Army on a Sunday morning, you're missing Grange Hill!

Mike:
The T.A is no game Tim!

Tim:
It isn't the T.A Mike, it's the Rough Ramblers.

Mike:
You're a civilian, you don't understand. You're thinking, "It's Sunday. I'd rather be in bed."

Tim:
Yeah, and you're thinking, "It's Sunday. I'd rather be in Apocalypse Now."

[Mike blows a bird whistle]

Tim:
That's easy for you to say. What you doing later on?

Mike:
It's classified.

Tim:
Well, why don't you come round? Look, I'm bored.

Mike:
I can't. Combat canoeing. I'm going to do an Eskimo Roll with a two stone rucksack in my bag, along with a loaded rifle.

Tim:
They don't have rifles in the Rough Ramblers Mike.

Mike:
Hand grenades?

Tim:
No!

Mike:
Anthrax?

Tim:
Mike!

Mike:
Listen Tim. I Gotta go. Looks like we're moving out. Roger. Bravo. Tango. Alpha!

[Mike puts the phone down, and sees some kids carrying a canoe over]

Kid:
Come on, Mike!

[Mike gives the kids a thumbs up]

[Tim opens the door and sees Mike]

Tim:
How is she?

Mike:
The fibreglass on the outer casing was severely damaged in the incident.

Tim:
What happened?

Mike:
Showing off Tim, I had 15 rocks in my rucksack, instead of the regulation 5. I knew something was wrong when I got her in the water, she was sitting so low, so low. But I didn't stop Tim, 15 rocks in my rucksack and everyone knew it.

Tim:
So what happened when you rolled?

Mike:
I lost control of the vessel 2 feet from the shore. When I struggled to right her, I banged it into the jetty, damaging the canoe's carcass.

[Tim nods and listens on]

Mike:
The "Ramble" Leader, had to dive in and rescue me from beneath the canoe.

Tim:
So it wasn't so much an Eskimo roll, it was more of a case of rolling right Inuit.

[Mike stares, confused]

Tim:
Inuit's another word for Eskimo!

Mike:
[Mike sobs] I've been thrown out Tim. The Rough Ramblers don't want me anymore!

Tim:
[Tries to comfort Mike] Come on. Come on. Come on.

Mike:
(I've gotta) face it Tim, I'm not the big man, not the leader. Noone's ever gonna look up to me. I feel like a failure.

Tim:
You're not a failure, Mike, you're not! You're too good for them, they're not ready for you, You're a renegade, you're a soldier of fortune.

Mike:
Like the A-Team.

Tim:
Yeah, you're like Mr. T. but white and hairy. And I feel sorry for anyone who says you're not.

Mike:
I pity the fool.

Tim:
I pity the fool.

Mike:
[Mr. T voice] I ain't goin' on no plane, sucka!

Tim:
[irritable] Stop that.

[Preparing to go out clubbing]

Mike:
I had to dress up as an elderly Israeli woman once.

Tim:
Really?

Mike:
I didn't have to.

Tim:
We should talk.

Tyres:
Last night was an A-1, tip top clubbing jam fair. It was a sandwich of fun on ecstacy bread, wrapped up in a big bag like disco fudge. It doesn't get much better than that, I just wish sometimes I could control these FOCKING MOOD SWINGS! [calmer] So what did youse two friends do last night?

Daisy:
We just stayed in, didn't we, had a laugh, played Scrabble.

Tim:
We're going to a club later on, do you wanna come out?

Brian:
(through the door) Don't go to clubs.

Tim:
Come on, Brian, what d'you mean you don't go to clubs?

Brian:
[peeks out] I'm working, Tim. Working. D'you understand.

Tim:
No...

Brian:
Trying to....avoid...cliches...by not actually placing my brush on the canvas.

Tim:
Right...

Brian:
I'm using my penis.

Tim:
Finally.

Brian:
D'you want to see?

Tim:
No, just about to have my tea...

[About the possibility of getting back with his old girlfriend]

Tim Bisley:
This is something that I've always wanted! You have things you want, you're always going on about going to Asia and seeing the Taj Mahal.

Daisy Steiner:
I do want to go to Asia! I do want to see the Taj Mahal! The difference is, the Taj Mahal didn't sleep with it's boss behind my back and break my heart!

Tim Bisley:
Yeah, well... it might if you go to Asia!

[Dropping Mike off for his interview with the Territorial Army]

Mike:
Aren't you coming in with me?

Tim:
I'm not your dad, Mike! [Hands him a lunch box] Here's your sandwiches. I'll pick you up at five.

[Before his meeting with the TA officials]

Mike:
[Thinking] I'm Andy McNab, I'm Andy McNab, I'm Andy McNab, I'm Andie MacDowell - ohhh...

Mike:
In 1994 while on weekend manoeuvres in France, I commandeered a Chieftain tank without the permission of my immediate superiors. I then attempted to invade Paris. However, en route I stopped off at Disneyland Paris, or Eurodisney as it was then called, and was subsequently apprehended on Space Mountain.

TA Officer:
Do you have any explanation as to why you might have done this?

Mike:
Well sir, at the time, I was suffering from serious emotional problems that had clearly affected my judgement. I had immersed myself in a fantasy world of my own creation and as a result I became very insular and uncommunicative.

TA Officer:
Why do you think that was?

Mike:
[Shrugs] I dunno.

[Mike is undertaking a Rorschach ink test; the first card is very obviously a couple having sex]

Mike:
War.

TA Officer:
[Holding the next card] This one?

Mike:
Bomb.

TA Officer:
[Next card] This one?

Mike:
Guts.

[Next card]

Mike:
Guns.

[Next card]

Mike:
Guts and guns.

[Next card]

Mike:
[Happily] Butterfly.

[The TA Officer frowns]

Mike:
[Realizes] Butterfly with a bomb.

TA Officer:
Finally, Mr Watt, how does this make you feel?

[He throws Mike an sheathed military knife; Mike expertly grabs and unsheaths it]

Mike:
[Grins happily] Nice.

TA Officer:
Welcome back, Mike.

[About ending his relationship with Sarah]

Tim:
I just had a moment of clarity, you know, I woke up. It's like... you know when you have an orgasm on your own? [Daisy looks increasingly disgusted and uncertain during the following:] You know, you're sort of lying on the sofa watching some porn movie you bought on a drunken lonely night in Soho, and you're lying there and everything's going really great, you're getting totally turned on by these absurdly graphic images, everything seems so right, and suddenly - phht! Bingo! You wake up. And you're lying there sweating, desperately looking for the tissue which you know is still in your pocket, and the remote control which is somewhere on the floor, and it's like walking in on yourself, you know? It's just like "What're you doing?" That's how I felt tonight feeling my heart miss a beat everytime the door opened. "What the f*** are you doing?"

Daisy:
Well, that's... love, isn't it? Load of old wank.

Tim:
Life just isn't like the movies is it? We're constantly led to believe in resolution in the establishment of the ideal status quo, and it's just not true. Happy endings are a myth. Designed to make us feel better about the fact that life is just a thankless struggle.

[The pub band starts playing 'Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Baby?']

Tim:
Do you wanna dance?

Daisy:
You know what? I think I do.

[They dance happily]

[About getting back with Sarah]

Daisy:
What do you mean, you have a "funny feeling"?

Tim:
I can read her like a book.

Daisy:
Never judge a book by it's cover.

Tim:
He who dares, wins.

Daisy:
Look before you leap.

Tim:
Do you believe in life after love?

Daisy:
That's a song.

Tim:
...shit.

[Assigning code names]

Tim:
Mike, you're Luke. Brian, you're Chewie. Daisy, you're Leia. Twist, you're...Jabba.

Twist:
Is Jabba the princess?

Everyone:
Yes.