Dirty movie

Ext: A windswept, raining, grotty looking city street
The camera spots and follows a man dressed in a dark raincoat and baseball cap as he moves furtively up the street. He reaches an entrance to an old style movie theatre and goes inside

Int: A darkened cinema room
Our figure enters and the light momentarily shows a screen of similarly perverted-looking men simulating naughty acts alone and in pairs and groups
Our figure wanders down the aisle, find a seat and slips down low into it.
The camera pans towards the screen to display the title of the movie 'The Jimmy Savile Story'

The crowd: (in a perverted way) Yeahhhhh

The Screen: 'A BBC Production'

The Crowd: Oh for f**ks sake

Camera pans away

Savile: Uh UH UH etc Howsaabout that then boys and girls?

END

Class

INT: A Room
Three men of equal height stand facing the camera

LEFTIE: I'm middle class. I look down on him but up..

MIDDLE-IE: No, no, sorry. I'm middle class. You're upper class.

LEFTIE: I am not. I'm middleclass.

RIGHTIE: and me!

MIDDLE-IE: (To LEFTIE) You are not! You live in South Ken, you've a country pile out in Sussex somewhere, you play polo for f**k's sake!

LEFTIE: Ah! But I watch X-Factor....and the footie. Chelsea! Chelsea! Chelsea! Anton Ferdinand, I ask you.

MIDDLE-IE: What the f**k are you on about? And you! (Turning to RIGHTIE) You were on Jeremy Kyle, you're on jobseekers, the CSA are after you for payments

RIGHTIE: Yeah but I've got a conservatory, a cardigan and I love those little triangular sandwiches, innit?

MIDDLE-IE: I...What?! What's that got to do with anything?! I can't work like this!

(MIDDLE-IE storms off)

RIGHTIE: Fancy a pint geez?

LEFTIE: Spiffing

The Golden Dong

Int: TV Gameshow Studio

GERRY: Welcome back to the Golden Dong, the gameshow where contestants are just forty seven different, perplexingly complicated steps from winning ONE MILLION POUNDS!

(Woops from audience)

GERRY: Before the break, Toby, a pest eradication expert from Taunton, had just bust the Golden Nut after chirpsing The Golden Doris once acquiring the Golden Aftershave. (beat)
Now Toby, are you ready to play for the Golden Rash of Golden Shame?

TOBY: Err, yes I am Gerry

GERRY: OK! Right then, to proceed into the rash matrix you need to answer this simple question: Why don't women like me?

TOBY: Err, you what?

GERRY: Why don't women like me? I mean, I'm not bad looking, if I say so myself, hey. Is it my breath? I get a little paranoid about my breath but I do brush three times a day so it can't be my breath, can it? Is it? I try to be funny and kind and all that. I even watched The Vagina Monologues once although, not my cup of darjeeling if I'm honest. I try I really do. So, what is it? Why don't they like me?

TOBY: I don't know. You're trying too hard maybe.

GERRY: (Consults card) No, I'm sorry, it's because of my puritanical religious beliefs combined with my wandering hands. (beat) I bet it was Linda who did this. That beautiful beautiful angelic filthy WHORE! Anyway, bad luck Toby

Arnold's Gardening Services

Ext: A Garden.  ARNOLD (dressed in gardening clothes) is speaking to Mr LAWRENCE (an old and deviant looking man)

ARNOLD: Hello Mr Lawrence!  We spoke on the phone.  I'm Arnold.  I've come to talk about doing your gardening for you.

MR LAWRENCE:  Hello!  I'm afraid you'll have to forgive me but i don't trust you.  You'll have to answer some devilish questions before i'll consent to give you my custom m'laddo.

ARNOLD:  Ri...

MR LAWRENCE:  (pointing)  What's that?!

ARNOLD:  Oh, that's Lavender.  Likes it quite dry and not too rich.

MR LAWRENCE:   (pointing)  Oh.  What's that?!

ARNOLD: Camelia.  Blooms in early spring.  Dead head it and it'll bloom more vigourously next season.

MR LAWRENCE:  (pointing) Oh.  What's that?!

ARNOLD:  What?

MR LAWRENCE:  That, there.

ARNOLD:  Where?  Behind my van?
 
MR LAWRENCE:  So, you know it's name.

ARNOLD:  My van?

MR LAWRENCE:  Yes, and??

ARNOLD:   (beat)  It likes diesel.  Is full of tools.  Occasionally a bit tricksy to start on cold mornings.  Does this weird thing with the electric windows sometimes.

MR LAWRENCE:  (Pointing)  Oh.  What's that?!

ARNOLD:  That appears to be a life size cardboard cut out of BBC Sports presenter Hazel Irvine.

MR LAWRENCE:  Yes?

ARNOLD:  While equally adept in football, rugby, athletics or show jumping, Hazel really thrives on snooker and i suspect is getting a portion off John Virgo.

MR LAWRENCE:  My Hazel?  With that big brute from Big Break?  Never!  Never I say!

(He composes himself)

Well, everything appears to be in order.  Can you start on Wednesday?

ARNOLD:  No.

Morse: The Early Years

Voice-over: And now on ITV3, back to the concluding part of Morse: The early years

Int Police Station Cell-block. Decor and cut of uniforms gives off a late 70s feel. MORSE is in a Seargents Uniform, LEWIS is in a PC's uniform

LEWIS: (in Newcastle accent) So, Seargent Morse, divent ye nar n allreet n all that pet, like. So, Lady Caroline is dead. Sir Charles is in a coma. Baronness Aldershot has an alibi and even Sir Nigel, the self-made millionaire industrialist with a chip on his shoulder, is in the clear. I just don't understand it, like. It looks like someone is going to get away with murder. Ya canna believe it man. This is the seventies, like!

MORSE: The seventies? (Beat) My God, Lewis, I've been so stupid!

Cut to: A police Mini Metro gunning down the street. A squeal of tires and it skids to a halt.

Cut to: Int Police Interview room. A wide eyed, scared looking black man with bruises on his face is in the background as MORSE and INSPECTOR are talking as they leave the room and enter the corridor, Camera follows them.

INSPECTOR: So Morse, you're telling me this Jamaican man who, judging by the ticket stubs in his pocket, was in London at the time of the murder, is in fact the murderer.

MORSE: He confessed sir!

INSPECTOR: Oh right, let's all go and get pissed then.

INSPECTOR walks back in to interview room.

INSPECTOR: (from off screen)I say, MORSE, this man has broken fingers and he appears to have(beat) shat himself.

MORSE: (looking sheepish) Yes, sir.

INSPECTOR walks back into corridor

INSPECTOR: I say, bloody good policing. You'll go far MORSE, you'll go far. Just, one thing puzzles me. Why a jamaican?

LEWIS: Cos we couldn't find an Irishman.

ALL three laugh heartily.

Job Interview

Int Office
RICHARD is interviewing WALTER. They are both american.

RICHARD: So, why do you want this job?

WALTER: I, err, want to explore strange new worlds

RICHARD: Yes

WALTER: Seek out new life and new civilisations

RICHARD: Yes, can I stop you there. That's from Star Trek.

WALTER: I'm sorry, I know. I have pop cultural tourettes syndrome.

(Checks watch)

Uh oh. Fifteen minutes to Judge Wapner.

RICHARD: I see...there seems to be a large gap in your resume. Would you care to explain that.

WALTER: Theorizing that one could time travel in his own lifetime Dr Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum accelerator and..

(Whispers)

..vanished.

RICHARD: (Looking suspicious) I see

(beat)

WALTER: Oh Boy

RICHARD: Let's move on. Do you have a clean driver's licence?

WALTER: (Rocking slightly) I'm an excellent driver. I'm an excellent driver.

RICHARD: (Gives a deep sigh) Can you tell me anything about your ambitions?

WALTER: As far back as I can remember I always wanted to be a gangster.

RICHARD: Right!! Well, I think that's everything I need to know. Your name will be added to the shortlist.

WALTER: The list is an absolute good. The list is life. All around its margins lies the gulf.

RICHARD: Uh huh. (beat) well, we'll see you at the next round of interviews but between you and me I think you got it man. I look forward to working with you here on the script team of Family Guy.

Welsh

nt: Living Room

A young man is talking to his parents

Son: Come on mum, sit down. I've got something to tell you.

Mum: But why not have a cup of tea first?

Son: Mum, please, just sit down. This is important.

Dad: What is it son?

Son: (on the verge of tears) Dad (beat) Mum. I think I'm Welsh.

Mum: Oh Darl..

Dad: You think or you know?

Son: (beat) I know

Dad: Since when?

Son: Since always I think. I believe I was born Welsh.

Dad: You were born in Bracknell. Unless... (turning to Mum accusingly)

Mum: (To Dad) Don't be silly dear. I'd never go with a Welshman. (Turning to son) No offence son. (Beat)
It's because I listened to Men of Harlech when you were a baby isn't it? And those trips to Aberystwyth when you were small?

Son: Don't blame yourself Mum. There's nothing to be blamed for. I'm fine!

Mum: I knew it all along you know. All that time spent moping around as a teenager.

Son: Yes! It was really my national dourness and pessimism!

Mum: It explains so much

Son: Anyway, I'd best away. Me and some of the lads are going to speak Welsh around some english people for no other reason than to make them feel uncomfortable..(beat) Ah, I feel so much better.

Dad: Now, we've got that out of the way might you be settling down with a nice girlfriend any time soon?

Son: Oh that? I like cock Dad, didn't you know? Anyway, Hwyl!

Based on a true story

Int House: Hallway
A middle aged man, Bob, is pushing buttons on a fax machine. A young man, his son, Dave, walks up to him.

DAVE: Are you still using the fax machine. Why don't you send an email?

BOB: Son, I like faxes. You know where you are with a fax machine.

(The fax machine gets a ring tone and dials)

Voice From out of the fax machine: Hello? Hello? HELLLLOOOO?! Hello? FOr god's sake

BOB: FAX! It's a FAX! FAX!!

DAVE: Dad, she can't hear you. It's a fax machine. It hasn't got a microphone

Voice: Hello???

BOB: FAX!

(Fax machine hangs up)

DAVE: You've dialled a phone number, not a fax number. I bet that's what you've done.

BOB: Why doesn't she switch it over?

DAVE: Because it's not a fax number and she can't. She might be nothing to do with whoever you're sending a fax to.

BOB: Are you sure it's got ink in it

DAVE: Ink? The sending and receiving of faxes has got nothing to do with ink dad, we've been through this before.

BOB: Go check on your grandad

DAVE: Just cancel and redial

(BOB starts to open the fax machine to check for ink)

DAVE: It's nothing to do with...

BOB: Go check on grandad

INT Sitting room

Grandad is asleep in the armchair in front of the TV with his feet stretched out and crossed at the ankles. The dog, a labrador, comes in and starts to heave and then promptly throws up on grandad's feet.

We see Dave start to open his mouth and then stop again.

BOB: (From out in the hallway) FAX! FAX! FAX!

Dave sits down and places his head in his hands...

We hear the dog start to eat his own sick...

DAVE: (quietly) Good dog. Good dog

As said, this is based on a true story.  It's actually a combination of two stories and is probably a waste of both.  My father has an unhealthy relationship with the fax machine combined with a shockingly poor grasp of the technology behind it.  This leads him to misdial regularly and then shout 'FAX!' at the fax machine.  It was funny the first time.  After the hundredth time it can get a little tedious, particularly after having explained the situation every time.  He genuinely believes sending a fax requires ink and, of course, that shouting 'FAX!' will somehow make the person at the other end know what to do with it.

The other part, i used to babysit my grandad.  When my grandad was living with us it seemed like my folks were always out every evening.  This was a bummer because it meant i was in charge of grandad but also a good thing because i could sneak out the back and smoke a spliff.  (This is also the reason i'd volunteer to walk grandad home, so i could smoke a jay on the way back).  So, grandad is asleep.  I'm buzzin out my tiny teenage mind, in walks the dog and throws up all over his feet.  I sit there thinking "did that really just happen?" and eventually manage to snap out of it.  I go to get a cloth and some water.  While i'm doing that the dog's thinking "Hey, what's this?  Food!" so the dog gets most of it up.  Luckily, grandad is wearing patent leather slippers so it's fairly easy to wipe his feet clean.  I'm trying to be as quiet as possible.  He opens one eye at one point but goes back to sleep.  Think i rewarded myself with another zoot. 

Cool story bro etc...

To boldly go

Int: Bridge of Spaceship. CAPT GRANT, a human, is speaking to NARNON, a blue hairy alien type; use your imagination. They are both sitting.

CAPT: So, what makes you feel you'd be right as a pilot?

NARNON: I'm a splendid communicator Captain Grant. I'm conversant in 400 languages including text speak and illiterate facebook chav.

CAPT: Oh, really? I could never get my head around it at the academy.

NARNON: It's not that complicated really. You just swap i's for y's and end every sentence with 'innit blud' and you're halfway there.

CAPT: It says here that you were almost part of the Technotronic Galaxial Royal Family.

NARNON: Yes. I was due to marry Princess Mardiothon but I just couldn't go through with it.

CAPT: Why ever not man?! Think of the money, the power, the pan, the van, the Boursin. Besides, I heard technotrons can do strange and wonderful things with their third inmurpredates.

NARNON: (beat) There will be things I'll miss about her but it would never have worked. The whole family support Accrington Stanley.

CAPT: Accrington Stanley? Who are they?

NARNON: A shit football team from the Northwest of England....originally. But now, they are part of the Neo-scouse Religious Soccer league. Games last days. Cars are ceremonially left on bricks and it's frowned upon if you don't chant (in scouse accent) 'Exactly' over and over again. I just couldn't do it anymore.

CAPT: So how did you get out of it then?

NARNON: Oh, I just whistled the tune to Please Release Me until she asked what I was singing. Then I sang her chorus while giving her the finger. I still have bruises on my dwarfinin.

CAPT: So, do you want the job.

NARNON: Don't you need to see any credentials. You've not asked if I can fly the thing yet.

CAPT: Fly? This is Transport for Pluto, Pal. We're on strike till next year. You'll have plenty of time to learn. Welcome aboard comrade.

The warehouse sketch

INT: Warehouse. Dave is mid 50s, Rupert is early 20s, student looking.

DAVE: Is it you n me stackin' these pallets then?

RUPERT: Looks that way, yeah.

DAVE: I'm DAVE by the way, mate.

RUPERT: RUPERT

(DAVE looks digusted and confused)

DAVE: Err

RUPERT: I'm RUPERT

(Dave looks more confused)

DAVE: Ruth?

RUPERT: No, Ru..pert. You know, like Rupert the Bear.

DAVE: OH! Reaper.

RUPERT: No, Rupert. Rooooo Perttttt. But call me Rupe if you like.

DAVE: Oh! I get it. Of course. Sorry.

RUPERT: No worries.

DAVE: Right, shall we get on. Anyway, did you see the news? Blacks, pakis, immigrants, taking our jobs, Diana? Never a goal, offside, blacks, indians, shouldn't be allowed, the war, blacks, pakis.....

Fade to black

CAPTION READS 'THREE HOURS LATER'

Fade in

DAVE: Immigrants, shouldn't be allowed, taking our jobs, pakis.

RUPERT: Uh huh.

Bell rings.

DAVE: Right, that's break time.

INT: Break room, crowded with people drinking tea

DAVE: Hey guys, this is Reece.

RUPERT: err. Hi Everyone, I'm Reece. Pleased to meet you.

The third group game sketch

FX: Crowd noise

Commentator: Not much has happened in this Euro 2012 match so far as we near half-time. TWO TIMING LOVE RAT picks it up near halfway. He passes to FREQUENTER OF AGING PROSTITUTES who quickly returns it. There doesn't seem to be anyway through and yes, I'm afraid it's going all the way back to SEEMS LIKE A NICE GUY BUT THAT'S WHAT WE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT WELSH CHAPPY; HE'S PROBABLY THE NEXT FRITZL.

Out on the sidelines BORING SPEECH IMPEDIMENT BUT DEFO NOT A TAX EVADER seems to be giving out some hurried instructions.

The goalie rolls it out to RACIST FRIEND CUCKOLDER who offloads it to DRUNKEN ASSAULTER. He turns, knocks it into FREQUENTER OF AGING PROSTITUTES who knocks a superb ball down the line to HORRENDOUS DIVING CHEAT. Oh, that's a lovely piece of skill to beat his man to the byline and he whips in a good cross and (beat) SHAMEFULLY OVERPRICED WIFEBEATER is there! but no, he holds it up and plays in AGING PROSITUTES (beat) AGING PROSITUTES scores!!

Oh! Doesn't it make you proud to be English?!

That's right on the stroke of half-time too. Game on. Now back to the studio where JUNKFOOD PEDDLING CRADLE SNATCHER is talking to NORTHERN MORON and BLATENT CLOSET CASE.

end.

Va Va Voom sketch

FX: Birdsong, sound of crickets and cicadas

FX: The sound of a car pulling up on gravel, a car door opens and closes

Hunt: Papa?

Older Frenchman: Nicole!

Hunt: Papa?

Older Frenchman: Nicole!

Leveson: (lots of reverb)
Mr Hunt?

(Beat)

(Clearer)

Mr Hunt?

Hunt: Huh? Where? Ah, yes Lord Leveson. I, er, don't know where I was just now? What were you saying?

Goodbye Mr Fry sketch

INT: 1950s Classroom, Black and white film

An elderly teacher walks in. We see two pupils, PERCIVAL and GATSBY

PERCIVAL: Hello Mr Fry!
GATSBY: Hello Mr Fry!

Mr Fry looks sad

MR FRY: Oh Hello boys
GATSBY: Are you ok sir?
MR FRY: Oh, oh yes my dear dear boy. It is marvellous to see you all.

GATSBY (TO PERCIVAL): I say, Mr Fry doesn't jolly well look happy at all. What could the matter be?
PERCIVAL (TO GATSBY): Oh, it's probably that he misses his wife, Gatsby. I've heard the other teachers mention it.
GATSBY: Sir! Are you sad about your wife?
MR FRY: Oh, no no boys, you don't want to hear any rot about that. Bally silly if you ask me.
GATSBY: But sir, anything we can do to help
PERCIVAL: Yes, sir
MR FRY: Oh, alright. My dear wife was the most amazing person. Could suck a golf ball through a hosepipe. We met through an advert she placed on one of those anonymous online dating sites. 'BBW MILF seeks MMF action'
(Smiles and looks into distance)
I'll always remember that. She was looking to get DP'd and film it to fund her crack and heroin habit.
We were married at once and for weeks and months we were happy, cruising the Basingstoke swingers scene. Oh boys, my boys, you're too young to know yet that life can start so hopefully, and so full of joy but before you know it you're in a darkened room with a gimp suit, a strap on and a pregnant dwarf. You can still Google it I think

GATSBY: Oh, sir. I'm so sorry.

MR FRY: Oh, my boy, my dear boy. Don't worry. She left me for the dwarf and they live in Norwich. They had a son. He went up to Cambridge, you know. Fine fellow. And I...I have my boys, my wonderful boys and my alcoholism and my pornography. I shall be just splendid.
And enough of this rot, turn your textbooks to page 77, quicksmart.

PMT Sketch

INT: Bedroom

Close up of an horrendous looking HELL-BEAST with salivating mandibles and red eyes

Camera pulls out slowly to a shot that frames the bed and the door to the left of it whilst

FX: sickening growling sound in time with HELL-BEAST's breathing

We see HELL-BEAST is sat up in bed wearing a tattered pink pyjama top. It's a double bed and HELL-BEAST is in the bed on the side furthest from the door.

HELL-BEAST: (in a woman's voice)
Dave! Are you bringing that hotwater bottle?

DAVE: (from outside the room)
Yeah, just doing it. Was waiting for the kettle to boil.

HELL-BEAST: Have you burped it?

DAVE: Sorry, love, what did you say?

HELL-BEAST: HAVE YOU BURPED IT? I LIKE IT BURPED.

DAVE: (Evenly)
I know, I'm just doing it, won't be a sec

Enter Dave in pyjama bottoms carrying hotwater bottle

DAVE: Here you go love. Was just switching off in there.

Dave hands over hotwater bottle and gets into bed. The both get settled. From the bumps in the covers we see DAVE extend a leg over and rub down HELL-BEAST's lower leg and foot.

HELL-BEAST: Dave, f**king seriously?

DAVE: (beat) Sorry, sorry.

End.

Plane Sketch

INT: The Cabin of a commercial plane

STEWARD A is standing at the head of the left hand aisle. STEWARDESS B is at the head of the right hand aisle.

Announcer's voice comes over the tannoy

ANNOUNCER: On behalf of Cheapskate Airlines we welcome you, ladies and gentleman, to todays flight from Winchester (beat) International Airport

FX: (From outside plane) A cow moos

ANNOUNCER Cont: To Tenerife
Please note, in the event of loss of cabin pressure a mask will drop from the ceiling in front of you. Place the mask over the mouth and nose like this

STEWARD A and STEWARDESS B are miming fitting the mask

Announcer cont: and then place a two pound coin in the slot provided to switch on the oxygen. Please note that the machine only accepts correct change. One of the cabin crew would be delighted to provide change for a mere two pound surcharge. Please ensure that you pay for your own oxygen before paying for that of children or other loved ones. Please note sharing is prohibited. The machine can tell and will cut off your oxygen.

In the unlikely event that we make an emergency landing on water, please note that life-jackets are available to buy from the cabin crew. They are currently priced at 9.99. Buy now to avoid disappointment. To be honest, if we have to land on water, the chances of us surviving are fairly slim, especially with this Captain, so perhaps you'd prefer to put that 9.99 towards one of our ham and egg sandwiches.
Please note that we do not give credit and we do accept sexual favours. Or at least Dave does. Don't you Dave?

Steward A smiles.