[SCENE: Rick's bedroom. His record player is playing {some old pop song} and Rick is sitting on a chair, asleep over the first page of Das Kapital. Suddenly, Vyv snatches the book from his hand and the chair from under him; he also grabs the record player and runs out of the room. Rick wakes up, incensed.]

[Rick runs into the hallway and shouts down the stairs]

[Rick starts running down the stairs but slips; he slides downstairs astride the bottom of the bannister, painfully taking the pegs down with him.]

[SCENE: The empty kitchen/dining area, where Mike and Vyv have a fire going in the fireplace. Vyv is burning the stair carpet, and is hacking apart Rick's record player with an ax for more firewood. Rick enters carrying what used to be the bannister.]

VYVYAN: Burning, what's it look like?

RICK: Oh, so you're burning the stair carpet, are you, Vyvyan? Well perhaps I'm being terribly old fashioned...

MIKE: Rick! Where'd you find all that firewood?

RICK: Um, eh...Between my legs.

VYVYAN: [Taking the wood from Rick] Wish I'd thought of that.

RICK: Well, I wish you'd done it! I might want to have had children one day.

VYVYAN: What a revolting thought!

[Vyv throws the wood on the fire]

VYVYAN: Oh, certainly, Michael.

[Vyv throws Rick's record player in the fireplace]

MIKE: [to Vyv] You said it was your record player.

VYVYAN: No, I didn't, Mike, I said "Let's throw Rick's record player on the fire, that'll be good for a laugh."

[Vyv gives Rick a smug look]

RICK: Yes, it is, now give it back!

VYVYAN: Okay.

[He hands Rick one of the smouldering remains. Rick takes it, looks at it for a moment, then gives it back to Vyv in resigned frustration]

VYVYAN: And by the looks of it you failed them all.

RICK: That's not true! I got a B for French, I got a C for divinity...

MIKE: Look, Rick, we're all completely broke, so we've got to make sacrifices. I myself have generously donated my used tissue collection. And Vyvyan has burned averything Neil owns.

RICK: Yes, well ever mind about all that now, I'm more interested in sorting out this O level business! I got a four for ...

[Neil enters, pushing the kitchen table into the room. He pushes it right into Rick]

VYVYAN: Sounds like supper's ready.

[Vyv and Mike approach the table while Rick sulks in the corner. Neil begins attempting to nail down the plates with giant spikes; only the plates keep breaking.]

[Mike takes the only chair and sits at the table]

VYVYAN: Neil, Neil, Neil! Nails aren't in the recipe.

NEIL: I'm not cooking, Vyvyan, I'm just trying to nail the plates to the table.

VYVYAN: Neil, is it really necessary to nail the plates to the table? What happens when we want to play Monopoly? Go directly to plate? Do not pass plate nailed to the table by a stupid hippie?

NEIL: No, no, guys, you don't understand. I've got something real scary to lay on you, okay, so, like, sit down.

RICK: What do you mean, sit down? There's only one chair. Do you expect us to all put our bottoms on that and catch horrible diseases off each other?

NEIL: It's not important, Rick...

RICK: Well I think it's rather important, actually! I happen to be rather attached to my bottom.

VYVYAN: Well, I've got a couple of seats in my car.

RICK: Alright, well we'll have to use them then.

VYVYAN: No...They're attached. I mean, you sit in them while you're driving. I suppose I could drive the whole car in!

RICK: No, no, no, better idea -- we'll go out there.

VYVYAN: Ah-ha! [Rick and Vyv start walking out]

NEIL: No, wait, guys, guys! What about my scary story?

[Meanwhile, Mike starts fiddling with the nails and plates]

RICK: Well, you'll just have to make us a tape, Neil.

VYVYAN: No, that's not good. My cassette's bust.

RICK: Well you'll just have to come out there with us.

VYVYAN: No, there's only two seats.

NEIL: I could go in the boot.

VYVYAN: No, no, Neil. 'Cause if you so much as touch my car, I'm going to kill you. Remember?

NEIL: Oh, yeah.

MIKE: Oh, Neil...

[Mike whipers something in Neil's ear]

RICK: Brilliant! Squatting! Youth control, no rent!

[Vyv, Neil, and Rick squat down next to the table]

RICK: Neil, is it my imagination, or has this table shrunk?

NEIL: That's what I've been trying to tall you for the last ten minutes, right! [whispering] Strange things keep happening in this house. Furniture keeps disappearing. Plates keep, like, moving about the place. The table is shrinking. And last night, I found my guitar on the fire. Do you know what all this means?

VYV and RICK: [nodding] Yes, it means...

NEIL: No, no...yeah! It means we've got a poltergoost!

[Dramatic music, thunderclap, scary noises]

RICK: Don't be such a spazmo, Neil! There's no ghosts, there's no God, there's a perfectly rational explanation for any kind of phenomena you might encounter.

NEIL: Oh, yeah, well how do you explain the table shrinking, then?

RICK: Uh, eh...

VYVYAN: Well, I did that, actually.

[Vyv stand up and grabs a chainsaw. Meanwhile, Mike successfully nails two plates to the table. Vyv revs up the chainsaw and saws off each leg of Mike's chair. The chair, however, seems to hover in the air.]

NEIL: Yeah, you see, I was right! It's the poltergoost! It's making him float!

RICK: [screaming] Aaahhhhhh! Get a priest! Get a vicar! I believe in God!

[Rick frantically crosses himself]

VYVYAN: Why, Mike?

MIKE: I've just nailed my legs to the table.

[Scary noises and thunderclaps as the guys attend to Mike, and two ghosts dressed in Elizabethan clothing and holding their severed heads in their arms materialize in the room, unseen by the guys.]

GHOST2:Yeah. Ere, 'old it, prithee, prithee. Art thou saying that Bacon wrote all of Shakespeare's plays?

GHOST1: Which bit of bacon?

GHOST2: His hand!

GHOST1: Bacon hasn't got hands.

GHOST2: Look, I'm not prepared to discuss it. All I'm saying is that they found a manuscript in a packet of bacon. Cod-piece face!

GHOST1: What did you say?

GHOST2: I said, cod-piece face!

GHOST1: What did you say?

GHOST2: I said, cod-piece face!

GHOST1: What did you say?

GHOST2: I said... cod-piece face!

[the ghosts continue in this vein as they pass through the guy's wall into the neighbour's house, the argument getting more and more heated.]

GHOST2: I said --

GHOST1: Look, don't be evasive!

GHOST2: Aw, sod it!

[he head-butts GHOST1, knocking GHOST1's head out of his arms. GHOST1's body walks around blindly looking for the head. Meanwhile, we see a woman sitting on the couch, oblivious to the hosts]

GHOST1: Aaaaah, my foot...

[GHOST2's body kicks GHOST1's head, which is on the floor; GHOST1 bites GHOST2's toe. GHOST2's body reels and drops his head in the woman's lap. The woman farts loudly. The two now headless bodies flail at each other, and the woman turns on the television. An announcer is sitting at a desk giving an editorial.]

[he places a huge meringue on the desktop]...

[he produces one and places it next to the meringue]

[he produces a plastic-wrapped pile of mush]...

[he produces said item]...

[ANNOUNCER swiftly smashes all three items to bits with the cricket bay]

[the ghosts' bodies are still stumbling around in search of their heads. Each head is shouting "over here! over here!" GHOST1's body picks up a fishbowl.]

[GHOST2's body picks up a grapefruit]

[From outside, Vyvan knocks on the woman's window. Through the window we can see that it's snowing and very cold. The woman rises to answer Vyv's knock, and GHOST2's head falls to the floor with a thunk. GHOST2 moans. The woman opens the window and looks impatiently at Vyv.]

NEIGHBOUR: I know that. You've been 'round here six times today already.

VYVYAN: Ha ha ha ha! Yeah! Nice day.

NEIGHBOUR: No it's not, it's snowing!

VYVYAN: Oh! Ha ha ha! Well, I mean, if you like snow and being really cold, it's a nice day.

NEIGHBOUR: Well, I don't. And you're letting cold air in. Now what d'ya want?!?

VYVYAN: Um...Could I borrow...a cup of sugar...please?

NEIGHBOUR: Another one? How many is that you've had? You'll rot your teeth, you know.

[she leaves the window to get the cup of sugar]

NEIGHBOUR: [returning with the cup, she menacingly grabs Vyv by the collar]: Do you think I could have some of my cups back, sometime?

VYVYAN: [thinking it over very carefully] Umm...yeah.

NEIGHBOUR: [hands him the cup] There you are.

[she shuts the window as Vyv leaves]

[SCENE: back in the guy's house. Mike and Rick are by the fireplace. Rick is leaned over on the floor with his bum in the air; Mike, his legs wrapped in bandages, is using Rick for a chair.]

RICK: No, I'm bloody not! Why can't you use Vyvyan as a chair? He burned them all!

[Vyv enters]

MIKE: Oh, nice one, Vyv.

[Mike points to the fireplace. Vyv empties the cup on the floor and throws the cup into the fire. It burns brightly for a moment, and Mike, Rick, and Vyv crowd around for warmth. Neil enters carrying a piece of paper and a pen.]

MIKE: Yeah?

NEIL: Well, that's it. I'm quite pleased with it so far, though.

MIKE: Oh, well, it's a strong opening, certainly.

VYVYAN: I don't like the "Dear". Sounds a bit too much like, "will you go to bed with me?"

NEIL: Well spoken, Vyvyan. What do you think instead?

VYVYAN: Uh, what about..."Darling"?

[the guys concur]

RICK: No, no, no, no, no, not "Bank Manager", it's far too crawly bum-lick. Tell it like it is, put, "Fascist Bullyboy"!

NEIL: "Darling Fascist Bullyboy..."

MIKE: That's nice, yes, so far so good. So what do you want to say?

NEIL: Well, basically, I want to ask him if I can have, like, an extension on my overdraft, but I know there must be a better way of putting it than that.

MIKE: Well, what about, "Give me some more money"?

VYVYAN: ..."You bastard!"

[the guys murmur their agreement]

MIKE: Ah, Neil, people like that respect strength.

NEIL: Yeah, you're right. Uh, "Darling Fascist Bullyboy, Give me some more money, you bastard..." Uh... "Love, Neil".

VYVYAN: Not "_Love_ Neil"! That sounds far too much like, "Come and get it like a bitch-funky sex machine!"

NEIL: Yeah, you're right...Uh, what about, "Yours sincerely"?

RICK: Oh, come off it, Neil. If you're going to be that sycophantic, why don't you go 'round there now and stick your tongue straight down the back of his trousers?

NEIL: Oh, look, I know, I know, why not, "Boom Shanka"?

MIKE: That's hard to tell, Neil. What does it mean?

NEIL: It means, "May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the belly of your woman."

RICK: Ah-ha! And what makes you think your bank manager's a man?

NEIL: Uh...His beard.

MIKE: He'll never understand "Boom Shanka", you'll have to write the whole thing out.

NEIL: Right, okay, here we go. "Darling Fascist Bullyboy, Give me some more money, you bastard. May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the belly of your woman, Neil." [he looks pleased]

RICK: Well, if that doesn't work, I don't know what will.

MIKE: The only trouble is we're running low on fuel.

[he snatches the note from Neil, crumples it up, and tosses it to Vyv]

Vyv, chuck it on the fire.

[Vyv obeys. The fire burns brightly for a moment and the guys crowd around it as it dies back down.]

NEIL: Coming. [Neil exits to get supper]

RICK: Yeah, I'm so hungry I could eat my own ear wax. [to camera] And we all know how horrid that tastes, right, kids? [Rick samples some earwax.]

VYVYAN: Mike, Mike, did we burn the sofa?

MIKE: Right, 'fraid so, Vyv.

VYVYAN: I thought we did.

[he bonks Rick on the head with a fire iron. Rick falls supine and Mike and Vyv use him as a couch.]

Come on, Neil, we're ready!

NEIL: [entering with two plates, which he hands to Mike and Vyv] Right, now here it is, now eat it up quickly, okay?

MIKE: What's this?

NEIL: Uh...It's risotto, Mike.

[inserted here are ***a few frames of a downhill skier in a yellow ski suit***]

NEIL: No, it's probably just gone cold, Vyv.

VYVYAN: Neil, this is snow!

NEIL: No, it's risotto, Vyv!

VYVYAN: Look, I know snow when I see it! I should do, it's all I've had to eat for the past three days.

NEIL: Well, it's very nourishing, Vyvyan.

VYVYAN: Snow, snow, bloody snow! I hate the bloody sight of it!

MIKE: [eating greedily] Don't you want yours, then?

VYVYAN: Ah-ha! No, I didn't say that, did I, Mike? [Vyv picks at his supper] Oh, God, this is disgusting!

[dramatic music, thunderclap, and brief CUT to groovy God in enormous sunglasses with two angels standing by.]

VYVYAN: [standing up in disgust] Why can't we have some decent food?

NEIL: Because we haven't got any bread.

VYVYAN: Well why don't we get some bread?

NEIL: Because, Vyvyan, we haven't got any bread!

MIKE: Alright, this has gone far enough. House meeting!

[Neil and Vyv wave their arms in the air, shouting "House meeting! House meeting!"]

VYVYAN: Rick, wake up!

[Vyv smashes a plate over Rick's head, and Rick rouses gradually. Meanwhile, the one of the GHOST bodies dances into the house with a boom box on its shoulder. The other GHOST body trails along with a head in each arm. The heads are arguing heatedly.]

GHOST1: Oi, now just listen, please? Thank you. This is my body, that one there is yours.

GHOST2: Rubbish! You're only saying that because this one has a nicer bottom.

GHOST1: I know it's mine, 'cause that bum's got no rhythm!

GHOST2: I don't believe this! You are cynically exploiting the fact that we've been beheaded so you can grab yourself a nicer bott!

GHOST1: Oh, for sooth's sake...Look, this is my bottom.

GHOST2: Forget it, forget it! Look, we'll split the bottom.

GHOST1: What, right down the middle?

GHOST2: Look, there's no need to get aggressive!

[the focus of the scene shifts back to the guys]

NEIL: You are, Rick. I can sense it.

RICK: I AM NOT! I just don't see why it has to be me who gets a job.

NEIL: Well it can't be me, I lead an alternative lifestyle.

RICK: Alternative lifestyle! HA! You're as alternative as Channel Four!

MIKE: [shooting a gun into the air] Alright, now why don't we look for a job in the paper?

[a newspaper comes shooting through the mail slot]

[Mike points to the paper and Vyv fetches it.]

VYVYAN: [returning with the paper] Here we are, situations vacant, pages seven to thirteen.

[Vyv turns through several blank pages]

[Vyv turns to a lone ad for the Army. It says: "JOIN THE PROFESHIONELS, IT'S GREAT! YOU CAN HAVE A GUN IF YOU WANT! AND THERE'S MONEY IN IT (NOT THE GUN). H.M. ARMED FORCES"]

NEIL: "...it's great, you can have a gun if you want."

RICK: Uh, well, now, yes, well, now, there's me out, you see. Perforated eardrum.

MIKE: Really? Yeah, me too.

RICK: Uh...Pardon?

MIKE: Flat feet.

VYVYAN: [folding up the paper and putting it on the fire] Well! That just leaves Neil then.

NEIL: What? No, no way! Why can't it be Vyvyan for a change?

VYVYAN: [nervously] Uh...well, Neil, since you come to mention it, there is something I've been meaning to tell all of you for some time...Uh...I went to see the doctor today...And, well...I think I'm pregnant.

MIKE, RICK, and NEIL: What?

VYVYAN: I'm going to have a baby!

NEIL: That's impossible!

VYVYAN: Yeah, that's what she said! You just can't trust women, can you?

RICK: But...How did it happen?

MIKE: Oh, come on, Rick, how old are you?

RICK: Well, that's rather a personal question, isn't it!

MIKE: Didn't your mother ever tell you about the birds and the bees?

NEIL: Mine did, but I didn't believe her. Well, I mean, what if the bird got stung, like halfway through? Well, I mean there's a big size difference. Ostriches are really big, right...

VYVYAN: [clutching his stomach] OH! OH NO! The contractions are starting!!

[the guys start to panic]

RICK: What do you mean, "Sit down"? There aren't any chairs!

MIKE: Yeah, and all the towels have been burnt!

NEIL: Oh, no! We've got to buy some furniture for Vyvyan quickly!

RICK: We can't! We haven't got any money! Vyvyan's baby will be a poorper! Oliver Twist! Jeffrey Dickens! Back to Victorian values! [directly to camera, angrily] I hope you're satisfied, Thatcher!

VYVYAN: Hurry! Get some money very quickly!

MIKE: Right! There's only one thing for it, Neil!

NEIL: You're right! I've got to join the Army before Vyvyan has a baby!

[a close up on Vyvyan is edged out of the frame by a shot of a MANIAC laughing demonically. The Maniac speaks to the camera.]

[a close up on Vyvyan is edged out of the frame by a shot of a MANIAC laughing demonically. The Maniac speaks to the camera.]

[the frame is edged back out with a close up of Rick.]

[SCENE: He is in the upstairs hall with Mike, nervously smoking six cigarettes simultaneously. Mike bites off several fingernails and spits them out. Moans and cries are heard from the adjoining bedroom.]

MIKE: Rick, that's the hundredth time you've asked me.

RICK: Yes, I know, but every time I ask you, you don't tell me!

MIKE: Well, it's time you got a watch!

RICK: I've got a watch! I'm just not very good at telling the time yet.

MIKE: [showing Rick his watch] Well, the small hand's on the four...

[they are interrupted by Vyv's scream. They rush into the bedroom. Neil is sitting on the bed with an enormous mirror in hiding his head and a sheet draped around him. Vyv is cutting Neil's hair with a pair of gardening shears.]

NEIL: [moaning] Ohhhh...I hate it! I hate it!

VYVYAN: Well, of course you hate it, Neil, it's not finished yet!

NEIL: It's finished as far as I'm concerned.

[Neil lowers the mirror. The hair on the left side of his head has been cut off just above the ear. Neil stands up.]

MIKE: [encouraging] What are you talking about? You're a hundred and fifty percent fashion! The Army can't say "no" this this suit!

[Mike removes the sheet. Neil is wearing one of Mike's suits (complete with watch fob), which is ridiculously short and tight.]

VYVYAN: I still tend to think that the whole outfit is somethat on the snug side.

[Vyv pulls at Neil's jacket while Rick plays with the watch fob.]

VYV and RICK: Yeah, come on, come on...

[they lead a reluctant Neil out of the room]

[SCENE: Outside, the guys are walking through the snow to the recruiting office. Ken Bishop's Nice Twelve (a quasi-jazz band led by Jools Holland) are playing Bob Dylan's Subterranean Homesick Blues, trading off each line.]

[SCENE: The guys push Neil into the Army Careers Information Office. A moment later, Neil is thrown back out.]

MIKE: So we're back to square one.

VYVYAN: Ga! Look at this weather. Anyone would think it was winter

RICK: Yeah, a chap could lose his bearings in weather like this.

[Neil and Vyv check their crotches. Rick points across the street.]

[It's a police station with a recruitment poster that says "We Take Absolutlely Anyone"]

[the guys push Neil into the station]

[SCENE: an office in the police station. A POLICE CHIEF is dressed as Mussolini and is making vaguely Fascist poses. There is a skewed portrait of Mussolini on the wall.]

NEIL: [skulking in] Hello...I've come to join the police force. But I shouldn't think you'd take me...

[Neil starts to skulk back out]

[he strikes a pose and points to his profile]

POLICE CHIEF: [in an exaggerated Italian accent] No. So, eh, what can I do for you?

NEIL: Oh, yeah, well, it's about joining the police force, but I don't think I'm, you know, correctly job motivated...

POLICE CHIEF: Oh, for sure you are, for sure. Eh, there's only one thing you need to know to be a policeman, you know? Really. One thing you have to do, you have to be able to go "CCCCCHHHHHHH"

[he makes a radio-static sound].

[Neil is unable to make the sound]

NEIL: CCCCHHHHHHH!

POLICE CHIEF: That's right, that's right! Now, you practice going, "CCCCHHHHHH". And if you don't get it right, I kick your head in.

NEIL: Fascist!

POLICE CHIEF: Si! Okay, now, here is the uniform [he hands Neil the uniform] take that with you, and as you go out, watch out for the Special Branch.

[Neil walks out of the station and hits his head on a tree branch]

TREE BRANCH: I've got a degree in Computer Science, that's what.

NEIL: Oh, yeah, that's quite special.

[back to the Police Chief in his office]

[he starts doing the Twist]

[to the sound of applause, the Police Chief walks through the office door]

[Cut to: SCENE of a stage with a glittery curtain. An M.C. in a purple lame tuxedo is at the microphone.]

[Emcee yields the stage to the Police Chief. He enjoys the cheers and then the music starts.]

Whenever people bother me
When they shout and raise their voices
I don't let it get me down
I just make some stupid noises!

I go...HUH HUH HUH HUH NI NI NI NI YA YA YA [etc.]

When the boss is giving you the sack
'Cause you've lost all his invoices
Don't drink a bottle of sulphuric acid
Relax, make stupid noises!

Just go...

[more stupid noises as the Police Chief dances around]

[the scene shifts to a binocular view of a television playing Il Douce's performance. Vyv lowers the binoculars and we're back in the guys's house. Vyv's belly is visibly enlarged and sticking out of his shirt.]

[Holding his lower back, Vyvyan hobbles over to the bed, which is now in the middle of the kitchen, and lies down]

VYVYAN: Uh, yeah! Kill yourself.

RICK: [fakes laughter] Ha ha ha! No, I was wondering if you'd thought of a name... [Rick points to himself] for your baby yet.

VYVYAN: Shut up or piss off!

RICK: [angered at his rejection] Oh, that's very nice...

VYVYAN: No, no, those are two names I'm considering. I mean, they'll be very handy in later life, you know, for getting into fights and things. [Vyv's belly starts quivering] Oh! Oh! He's kicking!

RICK: [he is fascinated in a disgusting sort of way] Oh, Vyvyan...Eeewww...Would it be alright...I mean, could I have a bit of a listen?

VYVYAN: Sure, help yourself! [Rick puts his ear to Vyv's belly] You can hear it kicking!

RICK: I can't hear a thing...

[Rick gets boffed in the head by a convulsion]

[Rick has landed bum-first in the fire. Mike crowds around for the warmth the added fuel offers.]

MIKE: That's very public spirited of you, Rick! Thanks!

[SCENE: Neil is outdoors on his police beat, wearing a full policeman's uniform. He seems oblivious to the message coming in on his radio.]

NEIL: [to camera] Oh, wow, that's me, right? Uh... [Neil speaks into the radio] CCCCCHHHH... Uh, hello, uh, here I am.

RADIO VOICE: What is your location, PC-13?

NEIL: CCCCHHHHH...Well, I'm outside, right, but like, don't worry, 'cause, like, everything's really mellow, okay?

RADIO VOICE: 68 Bryant Street...Get 'round there, smash the place up, and arrest everybody.

NEIL: Right, right...CCCCHHHH....Okay...Here goes... [Neil goes off, truncheon in hand]

[SCENE: front walk of ramshackle house. Loud music is playing. There is a party going on inside. Somebody throws a chair out the window, almost hitting Neil. Neil approaches the front door and bangs on it with his truncheon.]

[Warlock, an aging hippie, opens the door slightly, slides out, and leans against it in a classic talking-to-the-cop pose. He seems really out of it.]

NEIL: Hi, Warlock. Um, look, uh...This is a bust.

WARLOCK: Oh, I know it's one, man... [shouts into the house] Hey! Don't flush the toilet! It's cool! It's only Neil! [admires Neil's uniform] Hey, man, where's you get that gear from?

NEIL: Oh...Uh, down the police station.

WARLOCK: Woah, you had me fooled. I've just eaten half my stash.

[Warlock looks nauseous]

WARLOCK: No, it's not, man, we've got plenty more inside. Come in, take the tit off your head.

[Warlock opens the door and Neil enters the house. Warlock leads Neil into the party as Neil gets ready with his truncheon.]

[SCENE: Warlock's house. The air is thick with smoke and several hippies are partying]

NEIL: Okay, listen, everybody, go home! It isn't safe! Take your stashes! It's not safe here!

[Stonehenge, a female hippie, stumbles up to Neil]

NEIL: Says who?

STONEHENGE: [pointing] The wall... [she hugs the wall]

NEIL: No, listen, Stonehenge...No, listen, everybody, right, listen...

[frustrated, Neil silences the loud music by smashing the record player with his truncheon. Everyone is quiet.]

[he realizes what he's done]...

[Stonehende collapses aginst her wall. Warlock discovers Neil's radio and takes it out of his belt.]

Hello, Earth, can you read me? This is Starship Captain Warlock, on the planet Freakout, broadcasting to you on the inter-electric galactic airwaves.

[Neil is trying in vain to get the radio back]

RADIO VOICE: CCCHHHHH. We receive you. Do you require assistance?

WARLOCK: [amazed] Far out, man! Uh, yeah, we require ten assistants... Preferably Swedish!

[sound of screeching tyres as a squad of policemen barge into the room and begin beating everyone with their truncheons. Neil is swinging his own truncheon excitedly. He bops a male hippie over the head.]

WARLOCK: [eating the rest of his stash in a panic] Oh, no...I knew I should have stuck to rum punch.

[SCENE: back at the guys' house. Rick's red boots are on the fire. Vyvyan, his stomach enormous, is lying on the bedframe. Mike is perched by his side. Rick squats on the floor. They are playing cards.]

MIKE: Royal flush: five aces and a jack. [places the cards on Vyv's belly] Right.

RICK: Do we have to keep playing this game? Why can't we play something like Fish, that I'm good at?

VYVYAN: Come on, Rick, what have you got?

RICK: One three.

[he places it gingerly on Vyv's stomach. Mike and Vyv shake their heads.]

MIKE: Trousers.

RICK: [removing his trousers] It does seem rather strange to me that people with an "R" in their name are only allowed one card. What kind of game is that?

MIKE: Trousers! [Rick tosses his trousers to Mike]

VYVYAN: Right, another round?

RICK: All right...

[Rick sits on the floor and abruptly jumps back up]

MIKE: Forget about Neil, Rickie, I've got everything sorted.

RICK: Oh! Oh! So you've got everything sorted, have you, Mike? Well what have you sorted? I suppose you've arranged for a bloody great articulated lorry loaded with food, and money, and everything we need, to come smashing through the drawing room window, have you?!?

[of course, a lorry comes smashing through the drawing room window.]

VYVYAN: Brilliant!

[The lorry driver jumps out of the cab and picks his way across the rubble]

MIKE: Well, guys, I just don't know what to say.

[SCENE: The Driver flees the house, running past two barking dogs.]

DOG2: What is?

DOG1: Chess.

DOG2: Only if you have a nosebleed.

[Neil approaches the house and the dogs chase him and bark at him.]

[SCENE: The guys' house, now sumptuously decorated with antique furniture, priceless paintings, and silk screens. Mike, wearing a satin smoking jacket, sits on a chaise longue counting a wad of bills. Vyv reclines on a luxurious bed, defacing "Whistler's Mother" with a marker. Rick is swathed in fur and is shoving a bunch of grapes into his mouth. Neil stumbles in.]

[back inside, a delivery man has brought in an armchair]

[he hands a stack of bills to the delivery man, who nods his thanks and exits.]

MIKE: Well, all this was a piece of luck.

RICK: Yes, a frightfully good piece of fortune.

[he takes a box of cigars off the mantlepiece]

MIKE: I don't mind if I do.

VYVYAN: [pouring ketchup into a silver bowl full of caviar] This caviar's really great, I suppose.

MIKE: [posing for the camera with cigar] James Bond smokes these, you know.

NEIL: [lurking by the front door] Oh, no, in their desparation the guys must have turned into experienced furniture thieves. Right!

[Neil barges into the drawing room, club raised, making siren noises.]

VYVYAN: Hi, Neil! Want some champagne?

[Vyv shakes the open bottle, spraying Rick, who is sitting next to him].

[Vyv gives him the sod-you sign. Neil handcuffs Vyv and Rick together]

MIKE: Come on, Neil, pull up a chaise longue!

NEIL: There's gonna be no chaise longues where you're going, Mikey boy!

[pulls at Vyv's wrist]

VYVYAN: No, no, we're all going to come very noisily!

RICK: Yes! [screaming] Eeeehhhh, eeeehhhh!

[Neil hits Vyv over the head with his truncheon]

RICK: Look what your rough-arm tactics have done, fascist!

NEIL: Quick! Dial 999! Get an ambulance!

MIKE: I can't watch this. [Mike leaves the room]

NEIL: Oh, no...

[Instead of giving birth, Vyv lets out a seemingly interminable fart. Neil and Rick almost pass out from the smell]

NEIL: Uh, uh...

[he searches his pockets for the keys]

[suddenly, Vyv stops, and Rick and Neil collapse.]

[he puts a cigar in Vyv's mouth]

[Mike is about to light the cigar]

[EXTERIOR SHOT of the house exploding. The credits roll and the guy escape the house, their faces covered with soot, and stare despondently at the burning remains of their home -- except for Vyv, who is of course fascinated.]