Well, I'd like to thank Don Del Grande, Adrian Adams, Johan von Boisman,
Bryce Utting, Simon Rowell, Stuart Jackson, and Vincent Button (and anyone
else I may have missed) for helping me edit this transcription of Sick.
If anyone can fill in the blanks for the cast (or the middle section that
I couldn't really translate), please let me know.

Boomshanka,

--- Zog
_______________________________________________________________________________
Paul D. Herzog                  | "Could you give me a wish if I tell you what
Alcatel Network Systems, Inc.   |  I want?  Will the price be no object?
Dallas, Texas                   |  I wish for dreams of light
I-net: pdherzog@aud.alcatel.com |  I live for wishing well's surprise"
Work:  (214) 996-2624           |
Home:  (214) 739-3638           |                        --- Bob Mould

...and now, we present...

The Young Ones:

SICK

written by Ben Elton, Rik Mayall, and Lise Mayer
addition material by Alexei Sayle
BBC, 1984

Cast: (in order of appearance)

Vyvyan                 --      Adrian Edmonson
Rick                   --      Rik Mayall
Neil                   --      Nigel Planer
Mike                   --      Christopher Ryan
Brick Thrower          --      ?
Woman in Window        --      ?
Bus Man                --      ?
Chemist Girl           --      ?
Wagon Driver           --      ?
Policeman              --      ?
Brian Damage Balowski  --      Alexei Sayle
Vyvyan's Mum           --      ?
Witch #1               --      ?
Witch #2               --      ?
Witch #3               --      ?
Neil's Mum             --      ?
Neil's Dad             --      ?
Schoolboy #1           --      Ben Elton
Schoolboy #2           --      ?
Mr. Liberal            --      ?
Other Policeman        --      ?
Mick                   --      Mark Arden
Tess                   --      Stephen Frost
Man in Garden          --      ?
Woman in Garden        --      ?
Girl in Court          --      ?


[OPENING SCENE: The four boys are in their respective beds.  They let out
with a chorus of groans, in tune to the "Twist and Shout" background music.
All of their tongues are a dark green color.]

VYVYAN: [coughs, spits up, looks in a mirror removed from the side of his
car]  Feeling better, you bastard?!  [takes a swig from a bottle of vodka,
blows his nose on his blanket]

RICK:  Will you stop making that revolting noise, Vyvyan?!  You know I'm ill,
you're only doing it to make me feel worse!

NEIL:  You're ill?!  I'm the one who's ill.  Listen!  [coughs pathetically]
Nobody feels worse than me.  And your shouting's not helping at all, Rick!

RICK:  Oh, stop whining, Neil!  God, you're practically brain-dead as it is!
I don't see how a pathetic little cold's going to make much difference!
You're probably not even ill anyway.  You're probably just lying to try and
impress us!

NEIL:  Oh, yeah?!  Well, how come I'm all hot and sweaty then?

RICK:  Well, I think most of us would rather not go into that!

VYVYAN:  Will you two shut up?  I'm trying to be ill!  [looks through a pile
of used tissues]  Oh, God!  There's nothing left to wipe my nose on.  Even
SPG's all covered in snot.

[Vyvyan's hamster is a revolting shade of green]

SPG:  Ah, too true.

[Vyvyan rips off the sleeve of his pajamas, blows his nose]

NEIL:  Vyvyan, will you shut up?!  You're giving me tunnel vision!

RICK:  Stop shouting, Neil!

NEIL:  Stop shouting yourself!

RICK:  I am not shouting!!

NEIL:  Yes, you are!!

RICK:  I bloody well am not!!  If you want to hear shouting, matey, this is
it!!  [Starts screaming like a two-year old]

VYVYAN:  [takes part of his sleeve, sticks it in the top of the vodka bottle]
It's funny, but being ill makes me lose my usual tolerant and easy-going
approach to communal living.  [lights the Molotov cocktail, throws it across
the hall, where it explodes]

[The wall between Neil and Rick is mostly gone.  Vyvyan walks in.]

RICK:  Oh, well, how ruddy considerate, Vyvyan.  Thank you very much!

NEIL:  Yeah, thanks, Vyv.  That petrol bomb's really cleared my sinuses.

VYVYAN:  Why aren't you dead?

RICK:  I'm not prepared to discuss it with you, Vyvyan.  You will be hearing
from my solicitors in the morning.  I'm going to write to my MP.  [takes out
paper and pencil]

NEIL:  You haven't got an MP, Rick.  You're an anarchist.

RICK:  Oh.  Well, then I shall write to the lead singer of Echo and the
Bunnymen!

[Mike comes in, carrying a fish]

MIKE:  What's this?

VYVYAN:  It's a fish, Mike.

MIKE:  Oh, thanks.  [leaves]

RICK:  [writing]  Dear Mr. Echo....

VYVYAN:  Why'd I do that?

RICK:  Ah, Vyvyan, beginning to regret it now, are you?

VYVYAN:  Of course I'm beginning to regret it.  That was nearly a full bottle
of vodka!  That's 7.99 you owe me, ploppy pants.

RICK:  Oh, stop being so blinking bourgousie!  All property is theft, Vyvyan.

VYVYAN:  All right, then.  Where's your girlie purse?

MIKE:  [knocks, comes back in with the fish]  All right, I didn't finish my
sentence.  I meant to say, what's this fish doing in my bed?

VYVYAN:  It's not in your bed, Mike.

MIKE:  Oh, yeah.  Right.  Thanks, Vyv.  [leaves]

VYVYAN:  [takes Rick's coin purse, removes some money]  Ha ha!  Found it!

RICK:  You put that back!  That's my personal property!

NEIL:  You just said all property is theft, Rick.

RICK:  Well, yes, it is.

VYVYAN:  Yeah, so I'm nicking it.

RICK:  Stop!  Thief!  Thief!

NEIL:  Thieves rush in where angels fear to tread.

RICK:  No, it's fools, Neil.  Fools.

NEIL:  Thieves rush in where fools fear to tread.

RICK:  Yeah!  Andy Williams said that!

VYVYAN:  Alexander Pope!

RICK:  Oh, well, you're a little snob, aren't you, Vyvyan?

VYVYAN:  Wimp!  Pervert!  Knob-end!

RICK:  Oh, Vyvyan, what repartee!  Sticks and stones my break my bones!

VYVYAN:  That's the first sensible thing you've said all day.  [picks up a
loose board, crushes Rick over the head with it]

MIKE:  [knocks on the door, comes in, empty-handed]  OK, so go ahead now.
What's this fish doing in my bed?

RICK, VYVYAN, NEIL:  [together]  What fish?

MIKE:  Oh, yeah.  Sorry.  [leaves]

[Vyvyan hits Rick with the board again.  Neil sneezes violently]

RICK:  Stop it, Neil!

NEIL:  I can't stop.  [Sneezes, and snot hits Rick in the head.  Sneezes
again, and a huge stream of snot shatters a vase]

[Vyvyan runs out and comes back with his pillowcase.  He puts it over Neil's
head.  Neil sneezes and it flies off.]

VYVYAN:  Quick, stick his head out the window.  [They crash Neil's head
through the window.  He sneezes and the snot hits a bald man working on
his car, right in the head.  The guy throws a brick back, but he is aiming
at the wrong window.  Another brick hits a woman standing in the window.
The car man chuckles and walks over by the bus stop on the corner.  The
woman throws a lamp at him, but hits another man waiting at the bus.]

BUS MAN:  Excuse me, did you throw that?

BRICK THROWER:  Yeah!  Good shot, wasn't it?  [The Bus Man punch the
Brick Thrower in the head, and they start to fight.  A car drives down
the street, crashing into the Brick Thrower's car.  More fighting breaks
out.]

[Rick is taping a green plastic bag over Neil's torso]

MIKE:  That's a bit extreme, isn't it?  Won't he suffocate in there?

VYVYAN:  Very probably, Michael.  But we've got to keep the bogeys off the
wall.  [leaves]

NEIL:  [sneezes]  Oh, wow!  It's really horrible in here.  Why did you have
to use Rick's laundry bag?

RICK:  Oh, well, there's gratitude for you!  It's me who's going to have
snotty undies for the next two terms, Neil.  It's me they're going to be
calling "Bogey Bum".  Especially at the next Friends of Stalin Society
"Show Your Bottom" competition.

VYVYAN:  [comes back with a duffle bag]  I'm afraid I couldn't find any
needles, so we'll have to use 6-inch nails.

RICK: Vyvyan, you can't do acupuncture with 6-inch nails.

NEIL:  Well, you better think of something quickly, cause this bag's getting
really full.  [sneezes]

MIKE:  I'm going to the chemist.

NEIL:  Oh, great.  To get some medicine for our colds?

MIKE:  No, I fancy the girl who works there.

NEIL:  Oh, Mike, in that case, do you think that you could get something
while you're there to clean the toilet with?

RICK & VYVYAN:  [together, shocked]  What?!

MIKE:  [pause]  I don't think I can, Neil.  [leaves]

VYVYAN:  You can't clean the toilet, Neil.  It'll lose all its character.

RICK:  We never clean the toilet, Neil.  That's what being a student is all
about!  No way, Harpic!  No way, Dot!  All that Blue Loo scene is for squares.
One thing's for sure, Neil.  When Cliff Richard wrote "Wired for Sound", no
way was he sitting on a clean lavatory.  He was living on the limit, just
like me.  where the only place to put bleach is in your hair!

VYVYAN:  Living on Limits?  What, are you on a diet?

RICK:  No, I live on The Limit, Vyvyan.  The Limit.  Because I'm a Rider at
the Gates of Dawn and I take no prisoners.  [Vyvyan throws a brick at Rick,
hitting him in the forehead]

MIKE:  [standing in front of a tremendously filthy toilet]  I don't know
what Neil is talking about.  [puts a plunger in the toilet, the plunger
being eaten by the lavatory, the rim of the bowl acting as a mouth]  Hey!
That's cannibalism.  I'd better get some Domestos.  [leaves]

TOILET:  What's Domestos?  [belches]

[Vyvyan is beating on Rick, who is still prone from the aforementioned
brick.]

NEIL:  I hope Mike hurries back with the cure.

VYVYAN:  No, Neil, no.  It's Madness this week.

[Mike walks out the front door into the street, past Madness, who is playing
"Our House" and cheap fake instruments.  Fighting is going on everywhere in
the street.]

MIKE:  It's exactly this type of communal street life that the high-rise
block is destroying.

[Neil is sitting on his bed.  Vyvyan is standing over him, while Rick is
on his bed, reading a newspaper]

VYVYAN:  Ok, Neil.  I am now going to insert the first nail.  You may feel
a bit of a prick.

NEIL:  So what's new?

VYVYAN:  OK, here it goes.  [hammers a nail into the top of Neil's nead]

[Mike is talking to the girl behind the drugstore counter]

MIKE:  180 pounds worth of Durex, please.  [The girl looks disgusted]  Oh,
sorry, force of habit.

[Vyvyan is hitting Rick in the head with a hammer]

MIKE: [getting tossed out of the O.K. Chemist]  So I'll pick you up at 8,
OK?  [walks off, still in his pajamas and robe]

[The band finishes the song and starts smashing their instruments, the sax
over the TV camera, then joining in the fighting.  An ambulance pulls up,
along with an Army truck and police wagon.  In the back of the police wagon
is a policeman with Brian Damage, a dangerous criminal in black hat and
jacket]

(A quick note.  I am EXTREMELY uncertain of these next 5 lines, partially
due to the accent and partially because of the background noise in the
scene.  Anyone who can decode them will be the recipient of my eternal
thanks.  Or something like that.       --- Zog)

WAGON DRIVER:  Get out!  Get out of the road!

POLICEMAN:  Drive through them!

WAGON DRIVER:  I can't do that!

POLICEMAN:  Why not?  You're a policeman, aren't you?!

DAMAGE:  Wandering in the middle of the road, eh?

POLICEMAN:  Shut your mouth, Damage!

DAMAGE:  Mr. Damage to you, copper.  And nobody tells Mr. Damage to shut
his mouth.  Not if he wants to keep his head in the vicinity of his
shoulders.  [opens his mouth very wide]  All right?

POLICEMAN:  Listen.  Shut your mouth, Damage!  [Damage attacks him]

[Neil is wandering around the living room, sneezing constantly.  The bag is
still over his head, and there's about 8 nails sticking out of his body.
Rick and Vyvyan are in the kitchen, watching him.]

RICK:  We'd better do something before the bag explodes.  Hey, brilliant
idea!  Maybe sneezing is like hiccups, and you have to give him a frightful
shock to make them go away.

VYVYAN:  [holds up a large knife]  I think he'll get a shock when he feels
this.  We've run out of nails, so we'll have to start using the cutlery.

RICK:  No!  Vyvyan, be sensible.  I've got to eat off that.

VYVYAN:  I suppose you're right.  [puts down the knife, pauses, and throws
himself on the ground, screaming]  My brain's exploded!  My brain's exploded!!
[Neil starts sneezing again.  Vyvyan stands]  It didn't work.

RICK:  [scared to death, trying to compose himself]  I'm not surprise, Vyvyan.
That was pathetic.  You must do something more subtle.

VYVYAN:  Neil, if you don't stop sneezing by the time I count three, I'm
going to cut your bottoms off and ram them up your nose.  One, [Neil
sneezes] Two. [Neil sneezes]  OK.

[Rick bends Neil over the sofa as Vyvyan gets the knife again]

NEIL:  Oh, wow!  I wish this wasn't happening to me.

[Mike walks in, makes a phone call]

MIKE:  Mario, my usual table for two, 8:30.  [hangs up]

VYVYAN:  2.999 recurring.....

RICK:  Do it!

[There are two shots, and Damage runs into the room, carrying a large
rifle.  He throws Mike into the living room.  Rick, Mike and Vyvyan put
their hands up.  Neil stays bent over, facing the couch.  Damage runs into
the kitchen.]

DAMAGE:  All right!  [points the rifle at the boys]  Nobody move and
nothing will happen!

RICK:  Goodness, how exciting!  Are you an anarchist?

DAMAGE:  No, I am not. I am Brian Damage Balowski.  I am, however, a violent
and highly dangerous escaped criminal madman!

RICK:  What would you like us to do?

DAMAGE:  Right.  Everybody us against this wall, NOW!!  [The boys don't move]

VYVYAN:  You said nobody move and nothing will happen.  How're we going to
get to the wall if we can't move?

DAMAGE:  Eh?

RICK:  Oh, God.  What happens if anybody moves?!

DAMAGE:  What happens?

RICK & VYVYAN:  [together]  Yes!

DAMAGE:  All right.  Terribly sorry, terribly sorry.  If anybody moves, I'll
show you what happens, right.  [Takes bag off of Neil's head with a disgusting
"slurp".  Neil is covered with green slime.]  This happens, right?

NEIL:  Hi there.  Are you the doctor?  [Damage head butts him.  Neil falls
backward into a nail, staggers, holding his butt in pain.]  Oooh!  Ahhhh!
Ooooooh!!  [Neil breathes in deeply]  Hey, I think that's done the trick!
Thanks, Doc.

DAMAGE:  Thanks, Doc?!  Are you being sarcastic or something, my son?
That's one of my least favorite things, that happens to be.  Sarcasm.

SPG:  [watching everything from his seat on top of the fridge]  Really.
How incredibly interesting.  [sighs]

DAMAGE:  I was walking a dog, and this bloke, he comes to me and says,
"Nice day, innit?"  But it wasn't.  It wasn't a nice day.  It was a little
bit cloudy.  Which makes him very sarcastic.  So acting as if nothing would
happen, I took his head, right, put it in me mouth, right, acting dead
casual-like, clamped me teeth, and BIT HIS HEAD OFF!!  Cause I hate people
being sarcastic.

NEIL:  I wasn't, you know, being sarcastic.

DAMAGE:  Weren't ya?  Well, forget everything I just said then, all right?

VYVYAN:  What?  Everything from when you first came in?

DAMAGE:  Now, if you don't get up against that wall by the time I count
three, I'm gonna blow your heads off one by one, all right?!  Ah-one.
Ah-two...

[A lady runs in.  She is wearing a leopard skirt and cheap fur coat.  Her
hair is dyed a shade of pink.  She's pushing a shopping cart full of junk.]

LADY:  Yoo-hoo!  Hello!

DAMAGE:  Oh, God!!

LADY:  Sorry I didn't knock, but some joker's impaled a head on the front
door.  Hello, Vyvyan.  [pinches Vyvyan's cheek]

VYVYAN:  Piss off.

LADY:  That's no way to talk to your mother, Vvvyan!

VYVYAN:  All right, then.  Piss off, mum.

VYVYAN'S MUM:  That's better.

VYVYAN:  What do you want?

VYVYAN's MUM:  Well, what're moms for?

VYVYAN:  I dunno.  Having babies?

VYVYAN's MUM:  Stop being so sexist, Vyvyan.  [squeezes him hard in the
crotch]

VYVYAN:  [in great pain, slumped over]  I'm sorry, Mum.

VYVYAN'S MUM:  No.  I heard you was ill, so I brought you a present.

VYVYAN:  Last present you gave me was a box of matches.

VYVYAN'S MUM:  That was a joke!

VYVYAN:  I was only eight weeks old.

DAMAGE:  Here, excuse me, excuse me.  But I'm not actually known for my
patience.

RICK:  Oh.  Then you're probably not Dr. Kildare then!  [Damage hits Rick
with the butt of his rifle and flattens him]

VYVYAN:  Well, what've you brought me this time?

VYVYAN'S MUM:  [removes a bottle from the cart]  A bottle of vodka.

VYVYAN:  Brilliant!  Thanks, Mum.  [takes the bottle, removes the cap, tips
it over]  This is empty.

VYVYAN'S MUM:  [flips him the two-fingered salute]  Ha ha!  Up yours, ugly!
[Runs out]

DAMAGE:  God, what a nasty woman!  [fires a shot in the air]  All right, this
has now gone one far too seriously long enough by half, OK?!  I am now going
to phone the authorities, right.  And if they do not give me, within 20
minutes, a helicopter...100,000 pounds...a complete set of steak knives...
in the presentation box...seven tickets to see the Brazilian National Mime
Theatre at the Riverside Studios...a little can terrier named Bobby...one of
them little black things, the ones that go "nee nee nee nee", yeah, big box
full of them, right...the complete memoirs of Donald Sinden...

VYVYAN:  Oh, very handy!

DAMAGE:  Otherwise, I'm gonna blow your heads off, all right?  Now, everybody
up against that wall, now!!  [Pushes the four boys against the wall by the
front door.  The ceiling collapses in front of the door as they hit the wall.]

RICK:  Oh!!  Bloody lovey!  All right, who's responsible?!

MIKE:  I think I'm quite responsible, actually.

NEIL:  Yeah, Mike is, yeah.

RICK:  Listen, listen!  Somebody has got to clean all this muck up, and I
can tell you one thing, matey boy, it's not going to be me.

VYVYAN:  What does a bit of mess matter?  We're all going to be dead in
twenty minutes anyway.

DAMAGE:  Yeah.  [Cocks rifle, aims at them]

NEIL:  [panics]  Oh, no!  Oh, wow!  Oh, heavy heavy heavy!!

MIKE:  What're you upset for?  You've always wanted to die.

NEIL:  Who's talking about dying?  I just remembered!  My parents are coming
round to tea!!  [Rick and Vyvyan start screaming]

MIKE:  Don't panic.  Don't panic!  Worse things happen at sea.

RICK:  Like what, Mike?  Like what?!

MIKE: All right.  You could be on a nice cruise in the South China Sea,
having a lovely time.  There's terrible weather, a big storm, and the ship
sinks.  You fall overboard, you're drowning!  This big shark swims up to
you and says, "By the way, Neil's parents are coming to tea in 30 seconds."
That's when you panic.  Come on!

[Everybody runs around, cleaning up in super-speed motion.  Damage polishes
his rifle.  Vyvyan throws some dirty dishes out the window.  Mike hides the
rubble from the collapsed ceiling under a rug in the hall.  Rick and Vyvyan
dump the garbage from the table into the sink, and Rick sits on it to pack
it down.  Neil replaces a "Smash the State" poster with one that reads
"Keep London Tidy".  Mike dusts the filth off the couch.  Vyvyan removes
the head of Damage's policeman friend off the front door.  He takes it into
a back room, where three old witches are stirring a big black kettle.]

WITCH #1:  All hail McVyvyan, Thane of Corridor!

VYVYAN:  Eh?

WITCH #2:  All hail McVyvyan, Thane of the Outdoor Toilet, and that little
gravelly patch next to the garden shed.

WITCH #3:  All hail McVyvyan, that shall be king of the whole house here
after!

VYVYAN:  Are you suggesting that I murder Mike, Rick, and Neil, in order
to have the whole house to myself?

WITCH #3:  Yes!

VYVYAN:  It's a thought, I suppose.  Make a great play!  [drops the head
into the pot, leaves]

[Mike is relaxing on the sofa, Rick is sweeping up, and Neil is just
panicking]

MIKE:  27.  28.  29.  [A knock at the door.  Neil answers it.  His parents
are well-dressed and well-groomed, in their late 50s.  They look extremely
out of place among all the fighting and the shabby house.  Neil shows them
in.]

NEIL:  [quietly, embarassed]  Hello, Mummy.  Hello, Daddy.

NEIL'S MUM:  Hello.  [kisses him as if she doesn't want to touch him]

NEIL'S DAD:  Hello.  Take my coat, will you?  [Neil takes his coat, puts
it in the hall closet]

NEIL:  Come in.  This is my house, where I live.  [They walk into the
living room.  Rick is at the kitchen table among a stack of books.  Damage
is sitting quietly in the corner]  These are my friends.  This is Rick.
[Rick stands]  He's studying sociology.

RICK:  Oh, hello!  [runs over]  Pleased to meet you!  Sorry, so many essays
to write!  [laughs]  I'm surprised my arms aren't falling off!  Perhaps
they are, look out!  [flails his arms wildly]  You'll have to watch out for
me because I'm a bit nutty.  Aren't I, everybody?!  A bit nutty?  [sticks
out his tongue and spits]

MIKE:  [walking to Neil's parents]  Hello.

NEIL:  This is Mike.  He's studying, uh....

MIKE:  Well, I'm in what you'd call the School of Life, Mrs. Pye.  [He
pinches her butt and she screams]

NEIL'S MUM:  Oh, dear me.  What a ghastly smell.

NEIL:  Oh, that's Vyvyan, Mummy.  He's going to be a doctor.

VYVYAN:  [runs over]  How do you do?  [puts his face in hers]

NEIL'S MUM:  Gosh all day.  I think I'm going to be sick.  [turns away]

NEIL'S DAD:  Is that another one of your colleagues?

NEIL:  No, that's the most violent and highly dangerous....

DAMAGE:  [laughs]  That's Neil's little joke, sir.  Brian, Brian Damage.
Currently working on my PhD in astrophysics, actually.  But recently I
did work on a degree in art history.  But it was no use for a job.

NEIL'S DAD:  What kind of job did you have in mind?

DAMAGE:  Maybe some kind of a bank job, you know.

NEIL'S DAD:  Nice safe job.

DAMAGE:  Yeah, possibly, possibly.

NEIL'S MUM:  Did you make your bed?

NEIL:  No, I bought it.

NEIL'S MUM:  Exactly.  [Wipes Neil's face with a hanky]

NEIL'S DAD:  Now, your mother and I are very disapopointed by all this, Neil.

NEIL'S MUM:  You have brought shame on your family, Neil.  I don't show my
face at Lady Fancourt's bridge evenings, now that you've taken up with these
television people.  I mean, what kind of monsters are you?!  I mean, the
Young Ones.  Well, it all sounds very good, doesn't it?  But just look around
you.  There's trash!  [smashes a chair to splinters]  I mean, even Triangle
has better furniture than you do!

MIKE:  I think you'll find that was specially designed to fall apart like
that, Mrs. Pye.  Rick was going to get hit over the head with it in the
next scene.

NEIL:  [embarassed]  I thought you'd be, you know, glad I was doing
something worthwhile.

NEIL'S DAD:  Worthwhile?!  I mean, it's a bloody outrage!  It's a waste of
a licensing fee.  Pardon my French, but why can't you be in one of those
decent situation comedies that your mother likes?  What's the thing called?

VYVYAN:  Grange Hill!

NEIL'S DAD:  That's the one!

[Two schoolboys in school uniforms come running wildly through the halls of
their school]

SCHOOLBOY #1:  So that's settled then!  We organize a protest against school
uniforms!

SCHOOLBOY #2:  Great!  We can use the banner left over from the last protest
we organized, so that racism wouldn't be an issue in this school.

SCHOOLBOY #1:  Good!  Then that's what we'll do.  I'll get Mucker, Ducker,
Trucker, and Sucker.  You get Spaz!

SCHOOLBOY #2:  But I am Spaz!

SCHOOLBOY #1:  Oh.  Well, I'd better get Spaz as well then.  But we've got
to hurry.  [They start running, but bump into a stern-looking man in a
3-piece suit]

SCHOOLBOY #2:  Sorry, Mr. Liberal.  We were in a hurry.

MR. LIBERAL:  You should be, you young scruffy tearaways.  Don't you realize
the way you act is influencing millions of children to talk Cockney and be
insubordinate?!

SCHOOLBOY #1:  Come on, sir.  Don't be silly!  We're the only lads in
Britain who never say....

[Back to the house]

NEIL'S MUM:  You must be talking nonsense!  I don't watch that ghastly
program!

NEIL'S DAD:  I'm sorry, my dear.  It was my mistake.  I meant The Good Life.

NEIL'S MUM:  Oh, yes.  That's the one.

[The cartoon and theme music for The Good Life appear, but Vyvyan tears it
down.]

VYVYAN:  NO!!  No! We're not watching the bloody Good Life!!  Bloody bloody
bloody!!  I hate it!!  It's so bloody nice!  Felicity Drink-All Kendall and
Richard Sugar-Flavored-Snot Briars!!  What'd they do now?!  Chocolate
bloody butt nugs, that's what!!  Just a couple of reactionary stereotypes
confirming the myth that everyone in Britain is a lovable, middle-class
eccentric and I hate them!!  [collapses on the couch, exhuasted]

MIKE:  That was a highly articulate outburst, Vyvyan.  I only hope they're
not watching.

RICK:  Well, you can just shut up, Vyvyan.  You can just about bloomin'
well shut up!  Cause if you've got anything horrid to say about Felicity
Kendall, you can just about bloomin' well say it to me first!!  All right?!

VYVYAN:  Rick, I just did.

RICK:  Oh!  Oh!!  You did, did you?!  Well, I've got a good mind to give
you a loddy good punch on the bottom for what you just said!  You're talking
about the woman I love!

NEIL:  And me!  I love her too.

NEIL'S DAD:  Well, I agree with the spotty twerps on that one.  Felicity
Kendall is sweetly pretty, and just what a girlie should be. Why, speaking
as a feminist myself, I can safely say this: that Felicity Kendall is a
wonderful woman, and I want to protect her.

VYVYAN:  [sarcastic]  Well, it's the first time I've ever heard it called
that!

NEIL'S MUM:  Neil!  Say something!

NEIL:  [quietly, knowing what Vyvyan can do to him]  Shut up, Vyvyan, that's
my dad you're talking to.

VYVYAN:  Did you see the episode where the pig was going to have a baby?
Now, that was quite a promising idea.  But it was all done so bloody nicely!
We didn't see anything!  Even the policeman was nice.

[A policeman comes in (different than the earlier one), smashes a lamp with
his nightstick]

POLICEMAN:  All right!  Why shouldn't the police be protrayed as nice
occasionally?!  [threatens Neil's Dad with his stick]  You trendy students
are always giving us a bad name!

VYVYAN:  Oh, do you mean like Big Jobbies?

POLICEMAN:  All right, now you've really asked for it!  [Picks up a chair,
smashes Rick over the head.  But it doesn't collapse like it should and he
is knocked out.]  Now, let me assure you that I would not have done that
to you if you had been Felicity Kendall.  [pause]  God, are you all right?

MIKE:  No.  It was that silly cow.  [points to Neil's Mom]  She smashed the
special balsa wood chair earlier on.

NEIL'S MUM:  Well, none of this would have happened if you'd been doing a
nice program like The Good Life.

[The Good Life music leads into the next scene.  The boys are in the back
yard, planting a garden.]

MIKE:  And that's where we'll put a row of cabbages.

VYVYAN:  Okie-dokie, Mikey.  We've got some of that!  [takes out a board
with cabbages stuck to it, sets it down]

MIKE:  And that's where we'll put the row of caulies.

VYVYAN:  Ah-hah!  Just one moment, Michael.  [takes out a board with small
dogs attached, sings dramatically, laughs]

MIKE:  Very funny, Vyvyan.

VYVYAN:  Well, you might've laughed, Michael.  It took me ages to raid the
pet shop.

RICK:  [walking out from the house]  Ah!  The timeless wonder of the English
countryside.  [goes to Neil, who is hoeing]  Good grief, Christine, it'd
be pretty bloody supe to have a snog in a place like this!  What do you think,
Neil?

NEIL:  I don't feel like it, actually, Rick.  I've got a lot of work to do!

RICK:  Not with you, you sick pervie.  I meant with a pretty bloody super
girlie who's on for an amazing bit of rumpo.

NEIL:  [picks up a large bag of seed packets]  OK, I've plowed this bit,
right.  And now I'm going to sow it.  [throws packets of seed down]  This
self-sufficiency bit really is amazing.  We sow the seed, right.  Nature
grows the seed, and then, we eat the seed.  And then, after that, we sow
the seed, nature grows the seed, and then, we eat the seed.  And then,
after that again, we sow the seed, nature grows the seed....

RICK:  Oh, shut up, Neil!  Shut up!  Shut up.  It's pathetic.  What about
radical magazines?  What about kicker boots?!  Can we grow them?  No, we
can't, can we?!  They beauty of your plan, Neil, seems to rest on everyone
being really into seeds.

NEIL:  No no no, Rick.  You don't understand the timeless wonder of the
whole thing.  We.  Sow the seed!  Nature grows the seed.  We eat the seed.
And then....

[Rick clobbers Neil with a shovel.  Neil collapses, unmoving.]

RICK:  All right.  Now, shut up.  [pause]  Come on, Neil, there's a lot of
work to be done.  Neil?  Neil?!  [bends over, feels the body]  Oh, God!
Oh, God, I've killed a hippie!  I've killed a hippie, and now I'll have
to pay.  Oh, God.  Vyvyan's bound to tell on me, and I'll get sent to
prison and raped in the shower by Mr. Big who's in with the wardens.  Oh!
Burn the corpse!  Burn the corpse.  [tries to light Neil, but he won't
start on fire]  Burn!  Burn!  Oh, trust Neil to be all soggy!  [Two men
come up and watch Rick, who quickly stands]

MAN #1:  Hello.

MAN #2:  Hello.

RICK:  Hello!

MAN #1:  My name's Mick.  This is Tess.

TESS:  How are you?

RICK:  Tess?

MICK:  We would've brought Harry, but we don't know anyone called Harry.

RICK:  Um, excuse me.  [laughs nervously]  You're not policemen, are you?

TESS:  No, we're not policemen.  [They leave, but return a second later]

MICK:  Oh, yeah!  I'm sorry.  Look, we've come about the muck.

RICK:  Muck?

MICK:  Look, you know, manure.

RICK:  Yes?

MICK:  We've been told to drop a load in your garden.

RICK:  Well, listen, absolutely nobody, I don't care who they are, is doing
a two-ton poo outside of my front door.

TESS:  Just thought you might need it to cover up that dead hippie you just
murdered, that's all.

RICK:  Yes!  Yes, bury him!  Bury him.  But it's not a hippie.  It's just a
garden gnome, that I accidentally cracked.

[A garden gnome is standing aside, watching]

GNOME:  Well, of all the crap!  It's not a gnome!  It's a hippie he's
just killed.  He's just killed a hippie, everybody!!  [Rick kicks it and
it shatters]

[Some time later, Rick is packing down the manure around Neil's body, not
doing a very good job, since one of Neil's legs is sticking out.  Mike and
Vyvyan come out, carrying a row of cans on a board.]

MIKE:  so, this is the row of mixed veg.  Oh, nicely nicely, we progress.
The grow-anything fertilizer has arrived.  [Sets the board down]

VYVYAN:  Brilliant.  We are now completely self-sufficient in fertilizer.
Speaking of which, where's Neil?

MIKE:  Yeah!  Where is he?  I specifically told him that if we don't sow
the seed, nature can't grow the seed, and we can't eat the seed.  Eh?

RICK:  Ah, um, he's [pause] emigrated.  [filled with remorse]  And he said
to say that you'll never see him again.

VYVYAN:  Well, he's left one of his shoes behind.  [takes Neil's shoe off,
exposing his bare foot]  He's left one of his feet behind as well!

MIKE:  Bloody idiot.

RICK:  [laughs]  Yes, I noticed he was hopping when he left.

MIKE:  Hold on a minute.  Did you say..?  [the sky turns dark]

RICK:  Oh, no.  Night time.

MIKE:  Good grief.  Oh, well.  Boing.  [jumps up, motions to the others]

RICK & VYVYAN:  [together, jumping]  Boing!

MIKE:  Time for bed, everyone.  [Mike leads them inside]

[Later one, Neil sits up out of the manure pile]

NEIL:  Lucky Rick only stunned me, eh?  [On his right, another Neil sits
up]  Oh, wow!  [checks to make sure he's OK]  Hello?

NEIL #2:  Hello?

NEIL:  Anybody watching that must've thought it was a negative reality
inversion.

[A man and woman are making out in the shadows]

WOMAN:  Cool!  That looked just like a negative reality inversion, didn't it?

MAN:  It did, a bit.  [They turn their attention back to each other]

NEIL:  I was right!  [another Neil sits up]  Hello?

NEIL #2:  Hello?

NEIL #3:  Hello.

NEIL:  Oh, wow.  [notices the grow-anything fertilizer]  Rick planted me.
I was the seed.  Rick sowed me.  Nature grew me.  Yeah!

[Rick is lying in bed, tossing and turning, clutching a handkerchief.  His
conscience calls to him.]

CONSCIENCE:  Rick.  Rick!  This is the voice of your conscience speaking.

RICK:  Shut up.  Shut up!

CONSCIENCE:  Don't tell me to shut up, you spotty little bastard.  I'm
your conscience.  You killed Neil, didn't you?

RICK:  No!  No!  It wasn't me.  It was, uh, Vyvyan and Mike, and I'm going
to tell on them as well!

CONSCIENCE:  They didn't bloody well do it.  It was you!

RICK:  Oh, God!  Whose side are you on?

CONSCIENCE:  Not bloody yours, matey!

RICK:  Then get out of my head, poohole!

CONSCIENCE:  Try and make me, farty breath!

VYVYAN:  Rick, will you tell your conscience to keep its voice down?!  I'm
trying to get some sleep!

[Rick is dreaming of a court scene.  Vyvyan and Mike are wearing powdered
wigs.  Vyvyan is the prosecuting attorney, Mike the judge, with Rick off
as the accused on one side.]

VYVYAN:  Oh, come on, Judge Mike!  He's obviously a complete bastard.  Let's
hang him!

RICK:  But I'm the People's Poet!  The spokesperson of a generation!  Kids
everywhere look to me for inspiration!

[A group of girls is watching the proceedings from the balcony]

GIRL:  Oh, People's Poet.  Don't die!  We'll kill ourselves if you do!
But first, we're going to take off all our clothes!  [The girls scream
and start to strip]

CONSCIENCE:  Stop having a wet dream, you little pervie!  [wakes Rick up]
You're supposed to be racked with remorse!

RICK:  I am!  I am.  [Gets up, goes downstairs.  Kicks a stuffed panda bear
sitting in the corner of the stairway.]  Oh, Neil!  Neil!  Orange peel!
If only I could see you again.

NEIL #2:  [sticks his head through the living room window]  Hello, Rick.
[Rick screams]

NEIL #3:  [sticks his head through the kitchen window]  Hello, Rick.
[Rick screams louder]

NEIL:  [walking through the front door, puts his hand on Rick's shoulder]
Hello, Rick.  [Rick goes nuts]

RICK:  Help!  Michael!  Vyvyan!  Neil's come back from the grave as zombies!

[Mike and Vyvyan run downstairs.  The Young Ones set opens up to reveal a
well-decorated show stage.  Standing on a platform are Neil's parents and
Damage.  They are blowing kisses to the audience and waving.]

ANNOUNCER:  Good evening, and welcome to Nice Time, with Neil's parents
and Brian Damage!


				THE YOUNG ONES
				--------------

                       Written by  Ben Elton
                                   Rik Mayall
                                   Lise Mayer
                          Starred  Adrian Edmondson
                                   Rik Mayall
                                   Nigel Planer
                                   Christopher Ryan
                                   Alexei Sayle
                        Featuring  Madness
                             with  Mark Arden
                                   Jim Barclay
                                   Perry Benson
                                   Ruth Burnett
                                   Hugh Cecil
                                   Jean Channon
                                   Brian Croucher
                                   Ben Elton
                                   Stephen Frost
                                   Peter Greene
                                   Ceri Johnson
                                   Kilian McKenna
                                   Pauline Melville
                                   Carla Mendonca
                                   Michael Redfern
                                   David Rolfe
                                   Maggie Steed
                                       and
                                   Brian Oulton
                                   Peggy Thorpe-Bates
                   Stunt Arranger  Gareth Milne
                            Music  Peter Brewis
              Additional Material  Alexei Sayle
              Character Animation  David Claridge
                                   Graeme Galvin
                       Properties  Bob Warans
                    Sound Effects  Ian Tomlin
                   Visual Effects  David Barton
                                   Jim Francis
                 Graphic Designer  Peter Clayton
                     Vision Mixer  Heather Gilder
                      OB Lighting  Geoff Stafford
           Technical Co-ordinator  Alan Jeffrey
                Camera Supervisor  Roger Fenna
                 Videotape Editor  Ed Wooden
                 Costume Designer  Barbara Kidd
               Make-up Supervisor  Vivien Riley
                  Production Team  Nick Fiveash
                                   Stephen Haggard
                                   Carmella Milne
                                   Christine Moses
                                   Anna Staniland
               Production Manager  Ed Bye
                            Sound  Laurie Taylor
                         Lighting  Fred Wright
                           Design  Graeme Story
                       Production  Paul Jackson


                           (C) BBC  MCMLXXXIV

