DIBLEY ROAD
A Completely Fictional Script by Garrett Gilchrist
Additional Material by
David Ashe
Linus Boman
David Brown
Justin Bielawa
Mark Wunsch
Erin Heparr
Candice Neilsen
Bonnie Rose
And probably a few others I've not thought of
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(FADE IN on the famous BBC Colour rotating globe logo,
which does its little rotating thing as RICKY NOBLE speaks over it.)
RICKY V.O.: The BBC would like to announce that the
following program was considered unsuitable for family viewing and has been
censored for your protection. It contained scenes of graphic violence,
including people getting their heads ripped off and their bellybuttons smashed
in in slow-motion. (ripple of laughter from studio audience, which rises
through the following.) There were also scenes of large-breasted women taking
off their blouses. And at one point I swear the Chinese one's not wearing
anything at all, though it could just be the way the donkey's smearing the
whipped cream. Arnold down the street keeps saying there's a bit where you can
see everything, but he's a dirty liar and anyway no one can really tell through
all the trapeze-work and jello.
(CUT TO a FREAK [STEVEN SMITH] in fright wig and loin
cloth, basically nude, who rings a large gong as an organ fanfare plays.)
(CUT TO NIGEL BLAINE in suit and tie sitting at a desk on
a tennis court.)
NIGEL: I hope you're enjoying the show.
(CUT TO a pleasant-looking beach. A NEAR-DEAD OLD GHOST
OF A MAN [PETE WESTON] staggers out of the water, dressed in the ragged remains
of a presenter's suit and obviously in the terminal stages of fear and
exhaustion, and flops pathetically down on the sand, gasping out ...)
PETE: And now ...
(CUT TO an ordinary suburban home. STEVEN SMITH is
dressed in drag as CARY ALLEN enters. All these scenes look like 1970s British
television and have a studio audience to laugh whenever something funny
happens, so just take that bit as read.)
STEVE S.: 'Morning, deer.
CARY: 'Mornin', gazelle. What's for breakfast?
STEVE S.: I didn't make any, dear - we're fresh out.
CARY: No corn flakes?
STEVE S.: No, dear.
CARY: No waffles?
STEVE S.: No, dear.
CARY: No ham, sausage, bacon, and eggs, lightly crisped,
seasoned, and served with a delicate orange sauce imported from the south of
France, laid out in a pleasing fan shape and placed over a bed of crepes
suzette?
STEVE S.: No, dear. Why don't you have an apple?
CARY: An apple?
STEVE S.: Yes, dear! An apple a day keeps the doctor
away, you know.
CARY: But I don't LIKE apples!
(sirens blare, and the husband and wife look quite
scared. PETE WESTON jumps in dramatically, dressed in a fascist red-and-black
uniform with a prominent apple insignia on the helmet.)
PETE: DON'T LIKE APPLES?
STEVE S.: The apple police!
(dramatic chords)
(CUT TO a sylven glen. Idealized Canadian forest-type
scene. a HAIRDRESSER [PETE WESTON] in a teal barber's coat and with a
well-groomed hairdo, clutching a MALE LIFE-PARTNER [STEVEN LOUENSTRYCK], is
singing.])
PETE: Oh, I'm a hairdresser, and I'm all right!
I snip all day and I'll dance all night!
(Show a small chorus of nightclubbers [including the
Floyd Josefson singers, Ian MacNeill, Cary Allen and Nigel Blaine] in sequin-y
masquerade costumes with feathers, some in outrageous drag.)
NIGHTCLUBBERS: He's a hairdresser, and he's all right!
He snips all day and he'll dance all night!
(CUT TO the register at a jokes and novelties shop. PETE
WESTON is running the counter, and NIGEL is in front of it. He looks very cross
and is rather a frightening sight at first. His hair is terribly slicked-back
and he wears a hideous see-through pacamac raincoat. He is holding a book with
a chicken icon on the cover.]
PETE: I think the problem is, it's too highbrow for you.
NIGEL: TOO HIGHBROW?? Look matey, I'll have you know that
I'm as higbrow as you can get. I invented highbrow, I designed the specific
arch of the brow that causes its self-placement in a raised position on the
face and if I bloody well feel like it I'll uninvent it again so don't you try
to pull the wool over my eyes! There's just no joke there!
(CUT TO BLACK and FADE BACK IN on a deserted-looking
road. A reporter, WALLY WATT, is walking along it as reporters do.)
WALLY: Glenn Dibley. The very name conjures up images of
chicken jokes and singing hairdressers, of apple police and wacky bishops. When
"Glenn Dibley's Cavalcade of Lies" premiered in 1969, who could have
imagined that (pictures of the cast roll over this) Cary Allen, Nigel Blaine,
Steven Louenstryck, Ricky Noble, Steven Smith and Pete Weston (back to Wally)
would still be making us laugh over thirty years later? Hello, I'm Wally Watt,
filling in tonight for Sir Reginald Owen, who has been placed into a good Home
to prevent him from harming himself and others. Tonight I'll be taking you back
to where all the silliness began to examine the Dibley legend and see what
these six unforgettable comedians aren't doing today. (a large pantomime rabbit
is now sneaking up behind him. He looks over his shoulder and it disappears.)
But perhaps they can start it off best themselves. This is a trip down memory
lane, or rather DIBLEY ROAD.
(A sign appears marked DIBLEY ROAD, a bright and cheery
Sousa march sets in, and we are in one of Steven Louenstryck's wonderful
animations. Credits roll as it does, and we also see clips from various Dibley
sketches. The cartoon ends with a Pope being squashed by a Renaissance-painting
cat and with a "poot" sound we CUT OUT.)
(CUT IN on a very old, but still recognizable STEVEN
SMITH sitting comfortably in a chair in a well-decorated studio. There is a
vague African motif and also some Maxfield Parrish paintings strewn about. The
camera is artily in close on him so that we can't see that except for a sports
jacket and undies he is basically nude. WALLY WATT is just off-camera and his
back is seen in many a shot.)
WALLY: Yyyeah, I think we'd better start now.
STEVE S: Yay!
WALLY: State your name.
STEVE S: (snapping to military attention) Steven Smith.
WALLY: Occupation?
STEVE S: Comedy writer ... I think.
WALLY: Very good, you get five points.
STEVE S: Double yay!
WALLY: So tell me, Stevie, the whole Glenn Dibley thing
... how did it all start?
STEVE S: It ... started?
WALLY: Er, yes. The Glenn Dibley's Cavalcade of Lies
television show was a hit and a landmark in British comedy, and the team went
on to great success with movies, books, and now a successful website.
STEVE S: Huh, really? I don't remember any of that.
(Various bizarre Dibley clips roll as Wally narrates.)
WALLY V.O.: What fans do remember is that unforgettable
Dibley style. The Cavalcade of Lies premiered late at night in a time slot
previously reserved for religious programming. In the tiny fraction of Britain
where it was shown, old folks expecting to tune in to the gospel got instead a
dose of Dibley.
(CLIP is of a knife-armed cook screaming and attacking a
customer, with ineffective restraints from the head waiter, and the customer
falls out of his chair and scrambles out the window, the knife following him.)
WALLY V.O.: Clearly this wasn't your grandfather's comedy
hour.
(CUT TO an aged PETE WESTON, the "nice guy" of
the Dibley crew, in a comfy outdoor setting, poolside with a drink.)
PETE: It's easy to forget today, I think, since we're old
and our minds are going (laughs) ... no, we forget how lucky we were to really
get away with all of that. We were on late at night and no one was really
watching, or bothering us. There was a lot of freedom, in those early days.
WALLY: You learned a lot about freedom, working with
Steven Smith.
PETE: Oh! (laughs) No, that was when he actually wore
clothes. His formative years, he'd say.
(BACK WITH STEVEN S. in his studio. Shot is on Wally.)
WALLY: With Dibley, you and Pete Weston ... what are you
wearing?
(CAMERA focuses on a wide shot of Smith, and his garb
seems a bit ... informal. He looks a bit cockeyed and half-embarrassed.)
STEVE S.: Well, I thought I'd dress up for the interview.
(BACK to PETE.)
PETE: Yeah, being on television you kind of have to shed
your inhibitions else you can never be spontaneous and funny like that, and the
problem was that Steven never had any inhibitions to begin with. He'd go out in
the most bizarre locations, in the most bizarre costumes, or half the time no
costume at all, and he'd just do it!
(CLIP is of Smith's nude gong-ringer in yet another odd
location.)
WALLY: The Nude Man.
PETE: That's exactly it, he got a reputation for that.
... Surely we're getting off the subject?
WALLY: Did you really think we wouldn't?
PETE: No. (sits blinking for a moment and then laughs)
(CLIP rolls. 'Tis a standard office-type scene with Pete
and Cary Allen.)
CARY: Stay on the subject.
PETE: I can't!
CARY: You have to!
PETE: I won't!
CARY: Why not?
PETE: Because if I stay on the subject the sketch will
get boring.
(both look out ever-so-briefly at the audience)
CARY: Very well. Carry on then.
PETE: (tatersack voice) So as I was saying, her husband's
a communist, says he's a chiropractor but that's just what a commie would say,
he's as red as a matador's cape, he is, and a Nazi too, his dog's a German
shepherd ...
(CUT TO an aged NIGEL BLAINE, the tallest of the Dibley
crew, who is on a comfy couch stroking a cat and looking very much retired.)
NIGEL: You've been talking with Pete and Steve Smith,
haven't you? I can see it in your eyes. Did they say anything about me?
WALLY: Well ...
NIGEL: I knew it, spreading rumours about me again, what
did they tell you?
WALLY: Tell me how the Dibley group got together.
NIGEL: What?
WALLY: Tell me how the Dibley group got together.
NIGEL: Oh! (looks oddly relieved, smiles) Well, Cary and
I had been working together for a while and had gotten some recognition. There
was the radio show "Oh Bugger, Can We Do Another Take of That?" which
went on forever, a bunch of 1942 shows, and then all the work for Timmy
Williams. Steven Smith had been hired for that, writing the odd filmed piece
and Pete was in on that too. Actually, come to think of it Ricky Noble was
there also, he'd been sending in jokes. We never met him, but he sent in jokes.
(CUT TO an older, not really wiser but older RICKY NOBLE,
hair as long as ever, in an ugly Ford Prefect sweater vest in some sort of
backstage area, perhaps the backstage area for the "Pirates of
Penzance.")
RICKY: I'd been sending in jokes to the Timmy Williams
shows, which were good shows, and I rather enjoyed that, but it wasn't pretty
work because no one knew who I was!
(Very old black-and white film clips roll as Wally
narrates.)
WALLY V.O.: Ricky Noble was born the son of a poor
lavatory cleaner's apprentice in the tiny town of West Excrement. He was being
groomed to follow in his father's footsteps, a smelly path indeed, but though
young Richard Knowblowschtschetschney lived small, he thought big. Even as a
child he was writing jokes, which no one laughed at, and dreamed of one day
being funny. That break would come when in 1961 he left home, got very drunk,
and vomited by accident upon the headmaster of Cambridge University. The
headmaster, shocked but strangely intriuged, followed Noble on a night of
binge-and-purge excitement, and when the hangover lifted Noble had been granted
a full scholarship to the prestigious school.
(Back to Ricky.)
RICKY: I went to Cambridge, and found out later that I'd
arrived the same day Cary Allen and Nigel Blaine, my future partners in Dibley
of course, had left ... I never got to meet them.
(Back to Nigel.)
NIGEL: We met him, well we saw him from a distance, and
we got out that same day because we couldn't stand the smell. Rather ironic
really.
(Back to Ricky.)
RICKY: But I took a shower and got involved in the
theatre department at the Footlights, didn't make much of a splash but I got my
diploma ... after only six years ... and I now could say I was a Cambridge grad
with comedy experience and there I was sending jokes by mail to the Timmy
Williams show! I never actually got to visit the set ...
(Back to Nigel.)
NIGEL: We'd told Timmy what we remembered Ricky smelled
like ...
(Back to Ricky.)
RICKY: ... but there I was!
WALLY: So the Timmy Williams show had Cary Allen and Nigel
Blaine.
RICKY: Right.
WALLY: Steven Smith, Pete Weston, and you.
RICKY: Yep.
WALLY: And that was how Dibley began.
RICKY: (nods head "yes") ... No.
WALLY: No?
RICKY: No actually if anything got us all together it was
the kids' show "Technical Difficulties." I met Reg Greene, who was
running a small programming service there, and invited him out for a few drinks
and next thing I knew I had my own show at 4:00 in the afternoon every day! I
mean it was tough, they had the kids there in the audience and all I could do
was sit there trying to think of something to say, and I couldn't, so the first
few shows were just me, sitting there, blinking.
(CLIP OF THIS rolls.)
RICKY: Anyway eventually Pete and Steven saw this and
remembered me, I'd written some of their best stuff, and they couldn't stand to
see me sitting there like that, sweating and blinking, blinking and sweating,
and so they dropped everything and ran over to the set and sat there with me.
(CLIP OF THIS rolls.)
RICKY: And the show was a hit!
(Back to Pete.)
PETE: That was fun. He smelled nice. Not at all like we'd
heard.
(Back to Ricky.)
RICKY: We also had Ian MacNeill there, with Dick Vanshall
and the Felix the Cat BaBa Band, and they helped out too ...
(CLIP OF Ricky, Pete, Steve S., and the entire FtCBB Band
[with instruments] sitting there blinking rolls.)
RICKY: And then this American animator from Minnesota
came in; he'd just come over on a plane fleeing some sort of snowslide and was
confused and disoriented and we gave him some hot cocoa and a blanket and he
sat there with us, and that was Steven Louenstryck.
(CLIP OF Ricky, Pete, Steve S., Steve L. [with blanket
and cocoa] and the FtCBB Band sitting there blinking rolls.)
RICKY: The reviews were smashing at that point but the
ratings had begun to slip. The viewers were all saying that we'd gotten too
big, we'd gotten away from the simplicity of those first few shows, and Reg
came over and fired us all, everyone except Dick Vanshall, who stayed on alone
as the "hip new host."
(CLIP of Dick Vanshall in full hippie gear looking quite
hip and pleased sitting there blinking. He blinks rather a lot.)
RICKY: The show went on for a few seasons after that, but
I didn't watch it, it was too hard.
WALLY: I heard Dick Vanshall went insane.
RICKY: Yeah, too much blinking. Sad really. Anyway, Pete
and Steve S. went back to Cary and Nigel with just glowing reviews for me and
Steven L. and later that week Vivian Thomas called us up and asked us to do a
show, and that became Dibley.
(CLIP of the Cavalcade of Lies opening sequence plays.)
NOTE: The script really ends there. But unfinished notes
on the show, plus sketches and the chat sessions that inspired it, follow.
The name of the show is "Dibley Road," and
tells how Cary Allen, Nigel Blaine, Steven Louenstryck, Ricky Noble, Steven
Smith and Pete Weston made their way from the depths of the Timmy Williams
shows, to the heights of such as "Gwen Dibley's Knights of the
Coconut," and back to the depths again, right up to the point where they
get their own website. This includes such classic routines as the "Chicken
Sketch," a marvelous Blaine/Weston talker in which the question "Why
Did the Chicken Cross the Road" is taken to amazing humorous lengths, and
songs like the "Hairdresser Song", the "Universe Song"
("The Universe is big, very very big, you won't believe how amazingly,
mindbogglingly huge it is..."), "George Herman Itpa", "Life
in General is Swell" ("So remember when life seems a cold, cruel
living hell [whistle] that things are nice and that life in general is swell
[whistle]"), the "Vatican Love Song," and Nigel's nasally bomb
"There's Something Slimy Crawling Up My Leg," plus excerpts from the
Dibleys' films "Wonderful World of Gravity" (their only bomb),
"Knights of the Coconut," "Life of Christ" (which asserted,
controversially, that Jesus Christ was a nice guy who'd have been fun at
parties, drawing protests from atheists and pagans and more, encompassing
interestingly 99.9% of the nation's populace), "Dibley Live From Inside a
Very Deep Well" (criticized only for poor sound and picture quality), and
finally "The Meaning of the word 'Life'" (criticized only because the
main part of the film consisted of one dictionary definition and was only
thirty seconds long, followed by bizarre, unrelated flashes of images for six
hours). It also briefly on the Dibleys' friends and collaborators, including
Jane Dewitt-Taylor (formerly Jane Dewitt-Taylor-Blaine and presently Jane
Dewitt-Taylor-Blaine-Euphegel-Flindsmor-Jameson-Daws), who is sometimes
credited with writing 10-99% of Nigel's work but mostly stood at the back,
David Agnew, the world's most famous novelist, for one novel, who didn't stand
much of anywhere at all, and Debbie Detroit, who stood everywhere, and often
with little in the way of clothes on, hence her appeal, and also their musical
friend Ian MacNeill.
ANNOUNCER [RICKY]: Meanwhile, somewhere in America ...
(Another ordinary suburban home. Steven S. is dressed in
drag as Cary enters.)
STEVE S.: 'Morning, deer.
CARY: 'Mornin', gazelle. What's for breakfast?
STEVE S.: I didn't make any, dear - we're fresh out.
CARY: No corn flakes?
STEVE S.: No, dear.
CARY: No waffles?
STEVE S.: No, dear.
CARY: No ham, sausage, bacon, and eggs, lightly crisped,
seasoned, and served with a delicate orange sauce imported from the south of
France, laid out in a pleasing fan shape and placed over a bed of crepes
suzette?
STEVE S.: No, dear. Why don't you have an apple?
CARY: An apple?
STEVE S.: Yes, dear! An apple a day keeps the doctor
away, you know.
CARY: But I don't LIKE apples!
(sirens blare, and the husband and wife look quite
scared. Pete jumps in dramatically, dressed in a fascist red-and-black uniform
with a prominent apple insignia on the helmet.)
PETE: DON'T LIKE APPLES?
STEVE S.: The apple police!
(dramatic chords)
PETE: Yes, the apple police! Surround the area, men, this
one doesn't like apples!
(Two more burst in, one of which, Newton [Steven L.], is
raring to go, and one, MacIntosh [Nigel], who is eating an apple and looking
rather ill.)
STEVE L.: Hup hup hup hup hup hup hup...
PETE: Who are we? (goes into pose, all pose as they speak
here)
STEVE L.: Newton!
NIGEL: MacIntosh!
PETE: Granny Smith! (look of embarassment) ... shut up.
What do we do?
STEVE L.: Serve!
NIGEL: Promote!
PETE: And protect that most beautiful and delicate of
fruits. (look of embarassment) ... shut up. (pops out of pose) So, filthy
heathen, we hear you don't like apples!
CARY: Well, I ...
PETE: DON'T SPEAK! What's wrong with apples, you
disgusting smelly little carton of day-old yak cheese?
CARY: I don't know; I just don't like the taste, that's
all.
PETE: DON'T LIKE THE TASTE? Apples are the most perfect
food in the world! They give you ten essential vitamins and minerals - make
your teeth bright and your bones strong! An apple a day keeps the doctor away,
you know! Have you ever seen a sick person eating an apple?
CARY: What about him? (indicates Nigel)
PETE: WHAT ABOUT HIM?
CARY: Well, he's sick, and he's eating an apple.
PETE: HE WAS SICK BEFORE HE ATE THE APPLE! He'll be back
on his feet again in no time!
CARY: But I ...
PETE: DON'T SPEAK! Do you think that the great AmRickyan
apple has gotten to be what it is today alone? As AmRickyan as Mom and apple
pie, APPLE pie, it could be no other! We work all our lives for the cause! It's
troublemakers like you that keep us awake at night.
STEVE L.: Every night.
CARY: Well, I...
PETE: CEASE AND DESIST! Newton... bring them forth.
STEVE L.: Yyyyes sir!
(He hops off and dramatically produces an orange and a
banana. An evil grin crosses his face.)
PETE: So, apple-hater, do you know what THESE are?!
CARY: Um, well...
PETE: DO YOU?!
CARY: Yes, yes... Er, that's an orange, and that's a
banana.
PETE: JUST AS I SUSPECTED! HE KNOWS OF THE OTHER FRUITS!
CARY: Excuse me?
PETE: How do you know of the other fruits? Who told you
about them?!
CARY: Look, all I said was I didn't like apples!
(All scream)
NIGEL: He said it! He said it again!
PETE: That's it! We will tolerate no more! ...To hear you
slander the name of our friend the noble apple .... (pause) ... well, it makes
me sad. (cries)
NIGEL: Noble apples.. (sobs)
PETE: There, there, MacIntosh.
CARY: Is this a joke?
PETE: QUIET, FILTHY UGLY PIGEON-LEGGED NONBELIEVER!
NIGEL: Noble, noble apples.. (sobs)
CARY: I'm sorry, I..
PETE: SILENCE, FOUL AND BLASPHEMOUS NOO-NOO HEAD OF
DEATH! So, you think you can get away with your evil anti-apple actions? Well,
you think wrong, demonic disser of all things appline!
CARY: I have an apple computer..
PETE: FOR THE FINAL TIME, BE QUIET!
CARY: Are you going to cry again?
PETE: You might as well come out with it now ... you're
working for THEM, aren't you?
CARY: Working for who?
PETE: DON'T PLAY DUMB WITH ME! Who are you? Who sent you?
What do you know? You're working for CAEL, am I correct?
CARY: What?
PETE: THE COVERT APPLE ELIMINATION LEAGUE! Don't play the
ninny, we know all about you ... you ... ech .. I'm sorry, I'm just not feeling
it anymore.
CARY: Yes, it is a pretty silly sketch, isn't it?
STEVE S.: Mm-hm.
PETE: Do you want to stop it right here?
CARY: Oh, all right.
(and they all leave.)
STEVE L.: Hup hup hup hup hup...
(A sylven glen. Idealized Canadian forest-type scene. A
lumberjack, Pete, in full gear with boots, cap, and a tartan shirt, swings an
axe and chops at a large tree. But the axe hits wrong, and with a dull
"clang" it slips from his fingers and he whines in an unheroic voice.
Sucking his wounds he notices the small crowd looking at him.)
Lumberjack: Don't blame me! I was never cut out for this
outdoor life.
Cary's Voice (from Back): What do you mean?
Lumberjack: Well, I didn't want to be a lumberjack
anyway. I wanted to be... a BARBER!
(A visionary glow suffuses his face and he begins to walk
slowly out of the darkened forest. With each breath his voice becomes more
high-pitched and campy.)
Snipping carefully at each shining strand to shape them
into a thing of beauty... The straight-back! The crew! The coiff! The mighty
pompadour!
(He tears off his lumberjack's cap and shirt to reveal a
teal barber's coat and well-groomed hairdo underneath. The singing of a choir
begins to rise up in the background...)
Chatting away nineteen to the dozen with mincing,
effeminate queens named Ricky and Edouard! Gossiping about other people's
private lives! Making teenagers just the slightest bit uneasy!
(He darts out of the forest and in the next shot he is
revealed in all his hairstyling glory, in what appears to be a nightclub with
disco lights and odd decorations resembling hairstyling equipment.)
The smell of fresh-cut follicles! The hum of the razor!
The feel of shampoo against the fingers!
(As he strides through, doing a bit of dancing, he takes
the hand of a rather effeminate-looking little man, Steven L., dressed in a
masquerade outfit. He clings to our hairdresser's side and looks adoringly into
his eyes. The choir is loud now and there is music as well.)
With my best buddy by my side, we'd sing, SING...
(A fanfare is struck and he launches into song.)
Oh, I'm a hairdresser, and I'm all right!
I snip all day and I'll dance all night!
(Show a small chorus of nightclubbers [including the
Floyd Josefson singers, Ian MacNeill, Cary and Nigel] in sequin-y masquerade
costumes with feathers, some in outrageous drag.)
Nightclubbers: Oh, he's a hairdresser, and he's all
right!
He snips all day and he'll dance all night!
Hairdresser: I cut folks' hair, I chat and laugh
With guys named Gei and Jyon.
On fridays I hit the nightclubs
And party 'til the dawn.
Nightclubbers: He cuts folks' hair, he chats and laughs
With guys named Gei and Jyon.
On fridays he hits the nightclubs
And parties 'til the dawn.
All: He's a hairdresser, and he's all right!
He snips all day and he'll dance all night!
Hairdresser: I cut folks' hair, I eat fried clams,
I touch up clasic cars.
I watch Sean Connery movies
And pick up chicks in bars.
Nightclubbers: He cuts folks' hair, he eats fried clams,
He touches up classic cars.
He watches Sean Connery movies
And picks up chicks in bars?!
(A brief, confused pause.)
All: ...He's a hairdresser, and he's all right!
He snips all day and he'll dance all night!
Hairdresser: I cut folks' hair, I mow the lawn,
I lust for Raquel Welch.
I drink while watching football,
And pause only to belch.
Nightclubbers: He cuts folks' hair, he mows... the lawn?
He lusts for... Raquel Welch?!
(The music and disco lights cut off as the crowd stops
singing and begins instead to yell at the hairdresser.)
Watches football?!
...Hetero! Bloody hetero!
F*cking royal king of barbers, he is...
One Clubber (Steven S.): And to think I gave him my copy
of "Funny Girl!"
(The hairdresser assumes a majestic pose but it is of
little use. He looks worriedly back and forth.)
His Guy: Oh, Bevis! And I thought you were just a bit...
RUGGED!!
(He runs off crying, and the crowd begins to pelt the
hairdresser with tomatoes, booing. He wipes them off his face as best he can,
but they keep coming. Eventually he shuffles dejectedly out of the scene.)
(Longish pause. The Nightclubbers, still in group
formation, shake their heads. Then one of them looks up at the camera and
points.)
Nightclubbers: (suddenly) He's a hairdresser, and he's
all right!
He snips all day and he'll dance all night!
He's a hairdresser and he's all riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight...
(This last note they hold for over half a minute)
Snips all day and he'll dance all night!
(Cut to a still letter, with a pencil finishing it.
Nigel's voice overreads.)
Dear Sir,
I wish to complain in the strongest possible terms about
the previous sequence about the hairdresser who is not a homosexual. Many of my
best friends are hairdressers, and all of them are perfect mincing little
poofs. In the future I would request that all heterosexual hairdressers be
referred to in your program as "barbers" with all the proper
disclaimers, lest there be any confusion.
(By now we see the scribbling hand, which is covered with
sequins.)
Yours faithfully,
Brigadier Cristan Philips Strong (Mr.)
[Register at a jokes and novelties shop. Pete can be seen
from behind, crouching down behind the counter pushing, among other things, a
handgun and a bullet-riddled rubber chicken more firmly into the shelf area. We
pan up to see Nigel rising up with us. He looks very cross and is rather a
frightening sight at first. His hair is terribly slicked-back and he wears a
hideous see-through pacamac raincoat. He is holding a book with a chicken icon
on the cover.]
NIGEL: Excuse me ...
PETE: (basso, not even looking up) You're excused.
:: awkward pause ::
NIGEL: Excuse me, Mister ...
PETE: [female voice] WHO YOU CALLIN' MISTER?? (thinks)
Oops, sorry. Yes, hello madam ... SIR! Sorry.
NIGEL: Yes, I'd like to register a complaint.
PETE: What about?
NIGEL: Well, it's about this joke, this "chicken
joke" which I found in the annals of your "Book of a Thousand
Laughs."
PETE: Oh, yes... well, uh... what's uh, what's wrong with
it?
NIGEL: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, madam, it's
not funny, that's what's wrong with it.
PETE: What do you mean? Everyone in their right mind
laughs at the Chicken joke!
NIGEL: Well I must not be in my right mind then because
I've looked it over your thousand times and have yet to laugh once. There's
just no joke there! Look, let me read it to you ...
(deadpan)
"Why did the chicken cross the road?"
(dramatic pause)
"To get to the other side."
(very long pause)
PETE: Well, uh... well, look, the whole joke is that the
answer is an obvious one!
NIGEL: An obvious one? The obvious answer to me would be
something with the slightest hint of something vaguely amusing in it !!
PETE: Well, you see...
NIGEL: Yes ...
PETE: It's, uh ...
NIGEL: Sing it, sister.
PETE: Th-the point is that you would expect a
complicated, unlogical reason for it to be crossing the road, so when it's
naught but a simple logical reason, you laugh!
NIGEL: Right, so I ask you where you're going, and you say
you're going to the store for a bag of groceries. Do I then fall off my bicycle
laughing???
PETE: Lovely joke, it is. Beautiful use of irony.
NIGEL: WHERE'S THE IRONY IN A CHICKEN CROSSING THE ROAD
TO GET TO THE OTHER SIDE?
PETE: It's a statement, it is. It makes a statement
about, erm, the inherent banality of life.
NIGEL: THE INHERENT BALANITY OF LIFE???!!
PETE: Yep. Funny joke, that. Lovely irony.
NIGEL: (basso) I'll iron you in a tic ...
PETE: I think the problem is, it's too highbrow for you.
NIGEL: TOO HIGHBROW?? Look matey, I'll have you know that
I'm as higbrow as you can get. I invented highbrow, I designed the specific
arch of the highvrow that causes its self-placement in a raised position on the
face and if I bloody well feel like it I'll uninvent it again so don't you try
to pull the wool over my eyes! There's just no joke there! What sort of
laughter would be created from a simple damnable "To get to the other
side??"
:: longish pause ::
PETE: (tentatively) Bwa-ha-ha?
NIGEL: Exactly.
PETE: N-now look, it's ironic, it is, it's a slice of
life, a clever turnabout on the tired structure of the riddle, it is, it makes
you think, it does.
NIGEL: Look laddie-boy ... (slams book down) this joke is
quite definitely below-par. It's nonexistent, non-laughter-producing. If a
person existed who would give out even the slightest chuckle or guffaw at the
prodding of this non-joke we would have to confine 'im to a mental 'ospital
because 'e would laugh at linoleum! It's gibberish, a meaningless conglomerate
of thirteen random words with no sort of bearing, humorous or otherwise, on any
human or barnyard event since the beginning of time! It should be snuffed out!
Condemned, lest it frighten the children! Locked away in a deep cave where no
one will ever have to pretend to enjoy it again! It's an opposite of joke, a-a
koje, a sad blight on the face of all jokedom! THIS ... IS AN ANTI-JOKE!
:: awkward pause ::
I'll read it again.
"Why did the chicken cross the road?"
PETE: [under breath] ... lovely joke, never had any
trouble with it ...
NIGEL: "to get to the other side."
:: awkward pause, again ::
Now, do you see me laug--- [stops short, looks
thoughtful, laughs that hoarse laugh of Nigel's we so rarely hear] hahha oh,
that's very good... I never thought of it like that.
PETE: You -- you --
NIGEL: Want to buy the book? Why yes, I'll buy it, along
with a few dozen others for my friends.
[produces suddenly a large quantity of jokebooks, spreads
them out, passes over the money, rings the register, and bags them all himself
as Pete just stands there dumfounded.]
Thank you sir, and good day.
[Gives a quick salute as he exits. Pete looks
pathetically at the camera. Much applause, which pauses, frightened, as Pete
shoots himself and crumples up behind the counter, then rises up again stronger
than ever .]
[back to interview set.]
NIGEL: We found out after the show that the gun was real.
(laughs) Pete just missed, missed his own head. Good thing for him. Oh my. He
had to take a little lie-down after that. For about a week. We cut the gun from
the sketch after that, substituted a big hammer. He didn't mind beating his own
brains in, but heaven help you if you put a gun in his hands, prop or
otherwise. Maybe he really was a hairdresser at heart.
IAN:
They called
me up at 4:00 in the morning
And told me
without prior warning
That I'd be
singing here
In front of
all of you (many cheers)
So I wiped
off my brow and I wrote this song
Now pardon
if it's not that long
It's the
best, you know, that I could do
It's a short
song, mmm
Yeah a short
song, mmm
It's not
long
I'd been
drinking a lot the night before
I looked
like I had been through war
I barely
staggered out the door
To get here
(spoken) ...
by the well, you know (more cheers)
I grabbed a
pen, it seemed absurd
I could
hardly write a single word
Before I
left there
I must
apologize, mmm
Yeah I gotta
apologize, mmm
It's a short
song, oooh
It's not
long
Have you
noticed just how damnably, insufferably short this silly thing is?
You blink
your eyes and you could miss it
I had my
chance and pissed it all away
It's a short
song, mmm
Yeah, a
short song, mmm
It's not
long
Not long at
all, really
It begins,
it's over, that's it, mmm wow
Was that it?
I didn't see it, was that the song they say?
I missed
that one
Can't they
write 'em longer?
It's a short
song, mmm
Yeah, a
short song, mmm
It's a very
very very very very very very very short song
It's not
long
It's a short
song, mmm
Yeah, a
short song, mmm
It's a very
very very very very very very very short song
It's not
long
It's a short
song, mmm
Yeah, a
short song, mmm
It's a very
very very very very very very very short song
It's not
long
(He is still
going as we cut out.)
RICKY: The
song lasted six and a half hours. (laughs) Murder on the audience.
The universe
is big
Very, very
big
You won't
believe how amazingly, mindbogglingly huge it is
You might
think that it's a long way down the street to get a bite to eat
Some candy,
and a box of Ploppie-Fizz
But if you
take the biggest thing
That you can
comfortably conceive
Only twice
as big, and all in the same place
Then
multiply that by itself six hundred billion times
-- Well, all
of that's just peanuts to space
It's
infinitely big, and you are infinitely small
To even
think about it hurts the brain
They say
that it's expanding
And it's
rolling, twisting, turning
And that
ninety-five percent of us are sane (shrugs)
Gigantic
multiplied by huge
Times
immense times really pretty large
Is the
concept that I'm trying to 'splain in song
I'd say it
in a word
But it would
seem a bit absurd
'Cause there
just ain't any word that fucking strong
(calliope
solo)
To survive
we just forget about
How huge the
whole thing is
And build a
house that's relatively small
We rarely
even bother just to gaze up at the sky
'Cause we'd
rather all be gazing at the mall (he has one foot in the toilet by this point,
and going down)
But don't
forget as you are going out to get that bite to eat
That you're
part of this amazing cosmic dance
And I hope
that you enjoy this thing
We call the
human race
'least til
next August
When we're
conquered by ants
(slam,
flush)
WALLY WATT: So, Smithy-boy, what's your favorite sketch?
STEVE S.: that one where i am nude
WALLY WATT: Isn't that rather a lot of them?
WALLY WATT: David Agnew noted that your bottom is only
slightly less well-known than your face
WALLY WATT: Has your life been just a whole big nude
romp?
STEVE S.: yes, except for the time when i wore socks
WALLY WATT: A special occasion then?
WALLY WATT: :: checks notes ::
WALLY WATT: Yes, that was at your wedding
STEVE S.: no....my feet were just cold
WALLY WATT: Ah.
STEVE S.: my wedding i was wearing a bow tie
WALLY WATT: You had a lot of fights with Nigel Blaine
onset, I've heard
STEVE S.: yes...one time i tried hitting him with a chair
WALLY WATT: ONly once?
STEVE S.: yes...the other times it was with a coffee
table
WALLY WATT: :: egging him on :: If I were you I'd have
deflated that big baloon for all I was worth
STEVE S.: if i were you i'd hit myself over the head with
a coffe table
WALLY WATT: I did, didn't help
STEVE S.: well perhaps you should get a quality table
from Harrod's.
WALLY WATT: Any interesting childhood memories?
STEVE S.: i ran around naked in my home town, and i have
a town holiday named after me now. It's called "Stevie Naked Day"
WALLY WATT: Really? What day is that?
STEVE S.: they never made an actual date...it's just
there....and that's all i care about...
WALLY WATT: Tell me about your work with Pete Weston
STEVE S.: we write skits...but i'm usually the only one
naked
STEVE S.: we are very good friends now, and then, but i
was always the only one naked
WALLY WATT: Can you form a complete sentence without
using the word "naked?"
STEVE S.: yes naked
WALLY WATT: Mooooving on ... tell me about your work on
The Dark Labyrinth.
STEVE S.: Dark Labryinth? oh you mean the maze of the
naked puppets?!
WALLY WATT: Erm, was that a ... working title?
STEVE S.: working?
WALLY WATT: You know, the title used on the set, before a
real title is found?
STEVE S.: oh....yes...i just never heard the word working
before...is that a naughty term? I can probably use it somewhere
WALLY WATT: Mooooving on ... tell me a bit about Peter
Rabbit and Friends.
WALLY WATT: Let me guess ... you gained friends slow,
being naked.
STEVE S.: ....no -- i was wearing clothes for all of it,
a first for me
WALLY WATT: But you were dressed as a duck, correct?
STEVE S.: yes....
WALLY WATT: Does that .... count?
STEVE S.: i was wearing a three piece suit under that
WALLY WATT: What size were the pieces?
STEVE S.: three by three
WALLY WATT: Works for me ...
WALLY WATT: Some said you weren't cut out for it ... what
was it like directing the Dibley films?
STEVE S.: an....experience
WALLY WATT: You were high the whole time, weren't you?
STEVE S.: yes -- High on that wonderful drug called
life!!!
WALLY WATT: Sure (snigger)
Wally Watt:
Boy, I sure do love cheese.
STEVE S.:
you do?!
STEVE S.:
you liar!
STEVE S.:
only i may like cheese!
STEVE S.: so
Wally, where is everyone else?
Wally Watt:
I dunno ... probably out committing minor crimes
STEVE S.: or
felonies for that matter!
Wally Watt:
I'm glad you could make it.
STEVE S.:
thanks, i try
Wally Watt:
l=)
Wally Watt:
5 minutes til ... this is getting sad
STEVE S.:
{:-
Wally Watt:
What say at the bell we start anyway?
STEVE S.: i
think i'm going to get naked now
STEVE S.: oh
please
Wally Watt:
Is it that kind of room?!
STEVE S.: no
STEVE S.:
i'm sorry
STEVE S.: i
just say things i never expect
Wally Watt:
I just thought, since you were here, and your reputation ... oh
well, forget it
STEVE S.:
yes
STEVE S.:
hummmmm
STEVE S.:
where is everyone?
Wally Watt:
You know you must always expect the unepected
Wally Watt:
Then it's not unexpected anymore
Wally Watt:
And it is weird and scary to you
Wally Watt:
So what's your clothes plan for this chat?
Wally Watt:
Were you planning to come in in an odd costume and remove
it?
Wally Watt:
Or will this be a fully-clothed session?
Wally Watt:
Perhaps intermittent donning/doffing of clothes?
STEVE S.:
fully clothes
STEVE S.:
for the children
Wally Watt:
Awww ... you're no fun anymore ;)
Wally Watt:
It's 5min after now and still no sign of fans
Wally Watt:
How do you feel about that?
STEVE S.:
bad...i need to go
Wally Watt:
You can't !
STEVE S.: if
someone doesn't come in on the next five min. i am leaving
Wally Watt:
All right, someone's coming
STEVE S.: ho
hum
RICKY: It's
me
Wally Watt:
Hello!
RICKY: Hi
Wally Watt:
We now have 2 Dibleys, dib dib ... shall we start?
RICKY:
uh...ok?
Wally Watt:
Steven?
Wally Watt:
He muzz be sleeping
RICKY: yeah
Wally Watt:
Wake him up, Ricky
Wally Watt:
:: smiles evilly ::
RICKY: How?
Wally Watt:
Any way ... s'long's it's nasty ;)
RICKY: Wake
up Steve or I'll pimp slap you!
Wally Watt:
Hee hee
*** In order to prevent misuse, from now on you must type
something before you can
beep!
STEVE S.: oh
hello!
&nbs