[Richie has returned from hospital]
I couldn't believe that nurse - all I said was "Hello, have you seen 'The Singing Detective'?" and she twatted me with a kidney dish!
All S1
S1 E15Unfinished Business
What did medieval people do before telly?
Well, they probably had their tea, didn't they?
No, before telly was invented.
Oh, they had cock-fights.
No wonder they all got the plague.
What was your name again?
Spudgun.
Spudgun? Why do they call you Spudgun?
Give me a potato and I'll show you why.
No Richie, you don't want to see that.
Well, why do they call you hedgehog?
Give me a hedgehog and I'll show you why.
[Eddie is watching his highlight tape of Emmerdale Farm with his friends]
That's him, that's the one! BASTARD! I hate 'im!
[looking around] Who?
[pointing at the screen] No, that one there! The extra! He never says anything, he just drinks all day. Look at 'im! Look! He's going to buy another drink!
Is that his own money?
No! No. They fill his pockets full of change, push him into The Woolpack, and shout "Go on mate! Drink as much as you like!". And then at closing time they give him a wage packet. [Shouting at the television] LUCKY BASTARD!
What was it Shakespeare used to say?
Err... “Hello my dear, I’m a playwright you know. Go on, give us a snog.”
No, no…
Uh, “Where’s my quill! Bloody hell, I bought five yesterday! Where do they all go?”
No, really, what was it he used to say?
“What do you mean, it’s crap! There’s eight bodies at the end and he gets to shag his Mum!”
Hello, gentlemen, sorry to have kept you waiting. Which one of you is Mr. Hitler?
Oh, that’ll be me.
Any relation?
[puzzled] Well, I’ve got a mother.
No, no no no, I meant Adolf Hitler.
Yes, that’s her!
[Eddie and Richie are filling out forms for a dating agency)]
Right, well, ah, let’s have a look at your forms then, shall we? All right. Oh, I see – you want someone homely, with cooking skills, fun to be with… and a whazzo pair of jugs?
That’s right.
But obviously we’re flexible.
Ah, but not about the jugs.
No, we have to be firm on the jugs.
And the jugs have to be very firm.
(pointing to the television) Can you see alright?
(confused) No, that’s why I wear glasses.
I have excellent eyesight. Which is remarkable when you think about it.
I really think this is the one, Eddie. Even on the telephone there was an immediate sexual tension.
What, you mean you felt horny and she felt tense?
Oh, shut up Eddie.
This is just my London pomme de terre. My main castles are scattered all over the place, you know, ‘cause I never know where I’m going to be… these bloody fox hunts go on for ever these days, don’t you find? Never know where you’re going to end up. Start off in “Berkshire”, end up in, ah, eh eh, Twat—shire!
Lady Natasha Sarah Jane Wellesley
RRitchie
Oh, she sounds ni—
(continuing) Obstronsky Ponsonsky Smythe Smythe Smythe Smythe Smythe Oblomov Boblomov Dob, Third Vicountess of Maldavia
Sounds great, we’ll have half a dozen!
[Doing a crossword]
Err right. "Ironmonger", six letters. Oh, got it! "Harold".
Harold?
Yeah, well he's an ironmonger, isn't he? Harold the Ironmonger, remember? We ate his dog!
Oh right, we bloody won that bet, didn't we!
No, we didn't. That's why we had to eat his dog.
[How to pass the time without a TV]
What about "Pin the Tail on the Donkey"?
We haven't got a donkey.
Well, "Pin the Tail on the Chicken"
We haven't got a tail.
Oh. Well, "Pin the Sausage on the Chicken"?
We haven't got a chicken.
(Annoyed) Well, "Pin the Sausage on the Fridge".
Or a pin.
(Angrier) "Sellotape a Sausage to the Fridge"!
We haven't got a sausage!
(shouting) "Put a Bit of Sellotape on the Fridge"!
(Beat) It's not much of a game, is it?
[Richie and Eddie have just played stick a piece of sellotape on the fridge. Eddie won]
Who won?
Ha ha ha ha. Eddie, it matters not who won or lost, but how you play the game.
Oh, you mean I won? Ha! Ha-ha. [wets his finger, draws a figure 1 in the air, waves his hands in the air]
Yes, I suppose so, yeah, I mean if it's so important to you, yes. Yes, you did win. I mean for Heaven's sake, Eddie, it's only a game! [walking away, to himself] Shit, shit, VD, VD, VD!
Molière! Molière! Oh, he could bash out a tune or two. [To a tune from The Four Seasons] Tum-tum tiddly-tum tum-tum-tum, tum – and the other twiddly bits. He was Scottish you know.
Who, Vivaldi?
No Eddie, I'm talking about composers. Honestly, it's football, football, football with you, isn't it?
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