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The Young Ones - Episode 12 Summer Holiday

[OPENING SCENE: Vyvyan and Mike are sitting in lawn chairs in the back yard of the house.]

VYVYAN: Michael? [puts down his drink]

MIKE: Don't broadcast the handle, Vyv. [looks up from his magazine] My own personal safety means nothing, but the innocent must be protected.

VYVYAN: [confused] Right. [pause] Andrea?

MIKE: Yes?

VYVYAN: Do ants go to discos?

MIKE: Vyvyan, it is proved that ants are highly intelligent, with a well-ordered society. The last hing they'd go to would be discos.

VYVYAN: Well, why is that one wearing a silver boob tube then?

MIKE: Simple, Vyvyan.


MIKE: You're talking crap.

VYVYAN: [laughs] You'd have to get up pretty early in the morning to catch you out, Michael.

MIKE: You'd have to stay up all night.

VYVYAN: God, I'm bored.

[stands, walks to the house]

Term only finished four hours ago and lready I'm bored.

[Vyvyan puts his head through the kitchen window. He picks up a shovel, and reaks another window]

RICK: [comes out of the house, singing] School's. Out. For. Ever! Yeah, come one everyone! Let all your hairs out! Do whatever you want!

MIKE: What's all the excitement, Rick? Has education finally been cut altogether? That's the only reason I voted Tory.

RICK: We're on holiday! I finished my last exam and the summer term is over!

MIKE: Over? I didn't even know it started.

RICK: [walks to Mike] Oh, yes, Michael, that's right. Your tutor asked me to tell you that if you don't show up again next year that he and the dean might have to seriously reconsider your rant.

MIKE: Well, you can tell my tutor that I've still got the photographs of him and the dean. [Rick puzzles over that] I think I'll ask for one of those Ph.D.s next year.

RICK: Ahhhh, summer holiday. 12 weeks with nothing to do, and the sun's shining already. [getting more excited] Hey, doesn't it remind you of when you were little, and you used to sit in he garden in only your underpants? And you used to put loads and loads of fruit down them and pretend to be pirates? Then, when your Mommy and Daddy went out, you used to take off all you clothes and pretend to be snakes by wriggling around in the sand pit.

[Vyvyan and Mike look at Rick funny, and Rick slowly realizes that once again, he isn't normal or well-liked.]

Oh, great, here comes Neil!

[Neil walks out from the kitchen]

NEIL: It was horrible. I sat in the big hall and put my pocket of Polos on the desk. And my spare pencil and my support gonk. And my chewing gum and my extra pen. And my extra Polos and my lucky gonk. And my pencil sharpener shaped like a cream cracker. And more gonks with a packet of Polos in each. And lead for my retractable pencil. And my retractable pencil. And spare lead for my retractable pencil. And chewing gum and pencils and pens and more gonks, and the guy says "Stop writing, please."

MIKE: That's great, Neil. You really must tell me that story again sometime.

RICK: Neil, you have the intelligence of an ant.

VYVYAN: Neil, do you go to discos?

[Two ants are standing on the lawn, one wearing a silver halter top.]

ANT #1: I heard around that humans can actually build bridges.

ANT #2: Really? How do they get them into discos?

[Tea comes pouring down on the ants, dumped by Vyvyan.]

VYVYAN: One of the great things about summer is tea on the lawn. Unless you're an ant, in which case, it's a real bottomer.

NEIL: No, Vvyyan, it's a bummer. Summer is a bummer.

RICK: Oh, God, Neil, you're such a killjoy, aren't you? Hey, everyone, I'll bet I know what Neil writes in public lavatories. [scribbles in the air] Look out, Killjoy was here!

NEIL: Yeah, yeah, that's a really good idea. Let's all bring Neil down. That'd relieve the boredom.

VYVYAN: [stands] OK. Shut up Neil, you ugly poo-faced git! [turns] Your turn, Michael.

MIKE: Oh, thanks, Vyv. Alright, what's ugly, smelly, boring, and is standing in front of me called Neil?


MIKE: Perfectly correct.

NEIL: You all really hate me, don't you?

VYVYAN & MIKE: [together] Yes.

RICK: [nods] Yes we do, Neil. That is, when we can remember who you are. Ummmmm.....thig-a-ma-jig!

[laughs at his own joke]

[Neil grimaces in a rage and turns into the Incredible Hulk. His shirt rips off, his pants tear to shreds. Neil pushes Vyvyan out of the way, tosses Rick aside, picks Mike up and bodyslams him, all in slow motion. Suddenly, Neil is himself again, only with no shirt and ripped pants.]

VYVYAN: What's happened to all your clothes, Neil?

NEIL: [snapping out of it] I think I'd better just go upstairs and lie down for a bit, actually.


RICK: God, I hate him. He's a bore, he's a drip, he's a sneak. And he's a bloody eavesdropper.

NEIL: [leaning out of the previously broken window] I heard that, Rick.

[Scene cuts to a family of five cramped into one room. The mother is standing over a portable stove, the father and grandmother are sitting on a sofa, and the two children are sitting on the floor.]

MOM: More to eat?

DAD: Shut your face, for God's sakes! Can't you see I'm busy?

[kicks his son, who is holding a large dog]

Darren, stop that!

MOM: Your father's right. Don't put your tongue in Rover's ear, dear. It's very unhygienic.

SON: I only wanted to see what his brains taste like.

[A bird on a perch sings "la-tee-da-tee-da"]

MOM: [to old lady on the couch] Mommy? Mommy?

DAD: She's too busy with her voodoo.

SON: Can I go for a walk?

DAD: I shouldn't think so, Darren. I've just nailed your feet to the floor after all. [the bird sings again] I say, Rosemary, tell your mother to keep that stupid bird quiet! I don't know why we don't stick her in a home and be done with it.

[The old lady sticks a pin into the doll she's holding and Dad screams, holding his stomach in pain.]

DAD: What did you put in the food, you stupid bitch! [Throws plate at Mom.]

NEIL: [walking in] I don't know who said you could use my room. Actually, I've got a good idea.

DAD: Yeah. [stands, goes to Neil] I've a got a pretty good idea too.

[Neil goes flying out of the room. Vyvyan is walking past, carrying a cricket bat. He pauses, then smacks Neil in the head with the bat.]

VYVYAN: Even mindless violence seems boring today. [goes downstairs]

[Rick grabs a juice carton from the refrigerator and head back outside.]

RICK: No more classes, no more breaks, no more anything at all.

[sits next to Mike, who grabs his juice]

MIKE: Where's Vyvyan?

RICK: Well, he said he was going inside to water his plant. Strange that such a ruthless and sadistic maniac as Vyvyan should care for a begonia. Must have had it two years now.

MIKE: And it was dead when he got it.

RICK: Still, give him his credit. He's watered it every day.

MIKE: Only because he can't be bothered to go upstairs to the lavatory.

VYVYAN: [walks out, swinging his bat] Bored. Bored. Bored! Bored!

[starts hitting Rick in the head in time with his chant]

Bored! Bored! Bored!

[takes a mighty swing and hits himself]


[falls over]

RICK: [laughs, then holds his head as Vyvyan gets up] Well, why don't we play a game?

VYVYAN: Oh, boring!

RICK: Oh, come along now. What about Bottcelli, where you have to guess the identity of the famous person?

VYVYAN: What about Jelly Botty, where you have to eat 18 curries?

RICK: [smirks] Vyvyan, Vyvyan.

[Vyvyan hits Rick again, knocking him off his chair. Vyv sits down]

Come on, come on. [stands] Let's play Bottcelli! Come on, I'll start. [laughs] I'm A.

MIKE: What?

RICK: I'm A.

MIKE: [pause] Banana. You're a banana.

RICK: No, you don't understand.

VYVYAN: A moron?

RICK: No, no, no. My name begins with the letter A.

MIKE: You mean Rick isn't your real name?

RICK: Yes, of course it is.

MIKE: And it begins with an A.

RICK: Of course it doesn't begin with an A. It's wouldn't be Rick if it began with an A.

MIKE: Could be a silent A.

VYVYAN: No, no, he spells it with a silent P.

RICK: [sarcastic laugh] Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Tee-hee Vyvyan, very funny, must be at least 5 minutes since you made that joke....I don't think! And while we're on the subject, don't think I don't know exactly who drew that thig-a-ma-jig on the back of my Curriculum Vitae!

VYVYAN: Well, they've a right to know your hobbies, Rick.

RICK: All I can say is tiny things please tiny minds.

VYVYAN: And with a thing that tiny you're gonna be hard put to please anything.

RICK: Listen, Vyvyan, it's not how small it is, it's what you do with it that counts! Look, can we just get on with the game, please?! This conversation is getting rather tedious.

VYVYAN: I was just beginning to enjoy myself.

RICK: Look, look.

[grabs Mike's magazine, throws it down]

I'll give you an example, right? [laughs] I think of a famous person, right, say Neil Armstrong. And then I give you the first letter of their second name. In this case, A. And then you have to guess who I am.

MIKE: All right, let me have a try. [pause] Are you Neil Armstrong?

RICK: No, no. I mean, yes, I am but you're not allowed to ask me directly, you see? You have to say something like "Were you the first man on the moon?"

MIKE: Were you the first man on the moon?

RICK: Good. Now, suppose I didn't know who you were talking about...

MIKE: Neil Armstrong.

RICK: Yes yes yes, but supposing I didn't know that.

MIKE: You'd be pretty stupid, I already told you three times.

RICK: Yes, but say I've forgotten. Then, you get to ask me if I'm a man or a woman.

[Mike and Vyvyan look at each other, very confused.]

VYVYAN: Pervert!

RICK: Oh, this is getting stupid! Look, let's start again. I'm S.

MIKE: S. [pause] Were you the first man on the moon?

[Some time later, Vyvyan and Mike are still bored, but Rick is running around, quite excited and deep in thought.]

MIKE: Are you a 12th century druid and political activist?

RICK: Oooh, yes, I know this one! Ummm, oh God, it's on the tip of my tongue. Ummmmm, ahhhh, no, it's no good. You'll have to tell me, Michael.

MIKE: Ken Smith.

RICK: Oh, Ken Smith, of course!

MIKE: Are you dead or alive?

RICK: Wait a minute. 12th century druid and political activist? Ken Smith? Are you sure, Michael?

MIKE: Of course I'm sure. I only made it up just now.

RICK: Honestly, people people people! How are we going to play this game...?

VYVYAN: Hold it, I've got one. Do you make an enormous about of money by sticking your fist up a duck's bottom?

RICK: No, I'm not Keith Harris! And anyway, his name begins with H, you cheat!

[Vyvyan and Mike get up and go in the house]

Do you give up?

[Rick follows them]

VYVYAN: If we give up, can we stop playing this stupid boring game?

[Vyvyan and Mike sit at the kitchen table]

RICK: Of course you can.

VYVYAN & MIKE: [together] We give up.

RICK: And I'm the winner and I'm the best person in the house?

VYVYAN & MIKE: [together] Yes!

RICK: Fine, I'll tell you then. I was Paul Squires!

[Rick steps back and waits for there surprise, but is met with irrelevance.]

VYVYAN & MIKE: [together] Who?

[Rick sighs, exasperated]

NEIL: [runs into the living room, holding a shoddy-looking cake] Surprise!

[waits for a response, doesn't get one, leaves]

VYVYAN: I know. Let's play cricket!

RICK: Yes!

[Vyvyan throws the kitchen table out of the way]

MIKE: [grabs the bat] Rick, you're the stumps.

RICK: Thanks, Mike. [pause] I'm the what?

VYVYAN: Shut up, you girl.

NEIL: [coming in again] Surprise!

[Vyvyan throws the ball. Mike swings, misses, and clubs Neil in the head instead. Neil topples to the ground.]

MIKE: All right. What's a hippie worth? Six?

VYVYAN: Six? No, it would be six if you killed him, Michael. Let's call it two.

MIKE: Fair enough.

RICK: [apprehensive, hands the ball to Vyvyan] I don't want to play this game anymore.

VYVYAN: Rick, shut up.

[He retreats, takes a long run up, winds, and smacks Rick over the sofa.]

Howzat, Mike?

MIKE: Nice one, Vyv. Time for tea, you win.

VYVYAN: What's my prize?

MIKE: Oh, the ashes, of course. All you got to do is burn the stumps and they're yours.

VYVYAN: Right. [lights a match, tosses it]

NEIL: [running in again] Surprise!

RICK: [crawling from behind the sofa, his pants on fire] More of a shock, really, Neil, when somebody sets fire to you during a cricket match.

MIKE: [using an extinguisher] Shut up, Rick. No one's on fire. [to Neil] Neil, it's very rare that you interest me, but today you have. Why do you keep coming in here, carrying a cake, and saying "Surprise"?

NEIL: Well, it's my birthday.

MIKE: Now, you knew that anyway, and we don't care, so where's the surprise?

NEIL: I've baked a cake.

MIKE: A cake? Can a cake dance? Will a cake get you drunk? Will a cake let you put your hand up its jumper?

NEIL: I don't know, Mike, but it's a cake and I've baked it and we're having a party and you're all invited cause you're my friends. At least you pretend to be my....well, you don't even pretend to be my friends, actually. In fact, you all hate me. In fact, if I was in the hospital, right, dying, you wouldn't even bother to come and visit me cause you all hate me so much.

[A hand reaches out and draws a fake mustache and glasses over the stationary Neil.]

Just like my mother, she got everybody against me. But anyway, we're having a party and since you're all here anyway, you might as well enjoy yourselves.

[The hand draws a beard an arrow through Neil's head]

SIDE VOICE: Stop that! Stop it now! Go on, rub it off!

[The hand removes the drawing, and the rest of the picture]

Oh, no, look what you've done! Quick, get the picture back on before Elephant Head comes out and starts singing.

[The song "Stop In the Name of Love" comes on.]

Oh, great.

[A man in a suit and elephant head comes out and starts singing and dancing.]

[The next Young Ones scene slams down on top of him. Mike and Rick are at the kitchen table. Vyvyan is lying on the sofa, where Neil is standing.]

NEIL: Having a good time?

VYVYAN: [bored] Yeah. Great.

NEIL: Great....uh, I'm glad you could come to my party.

VYVYAN: Well, thanks for inviting me, Neil. [sarcastic] It's so rare when you get a chance to go out these days.

NEIL: Yeah, great [looks around] Oh, excuse me. Just have to go and circulate. Catch you later, OK?

[goes to kitchen]

Hi, Mike. It's going well, isn't it? You know, I was really worried before. You know how worried you get before a party, like, you know, "Is everyone going to turn up?" and everything. But this is great, isn't it?

MIKE: [bored silly] Yeah.

NEIL: Yeah, and just about everyone I invited is here.

MIKE: Neil, where's the booze?

VYVYAN: Yeah, hippie, where's the bloody lager?

[Cut to a fake commercial, with a dorky guy and a hot blonde at a bar.]

COMMERCIAL VOICE: [sings] I was drinking something gloomy.
And the girl just looked straight through me.

[The blonde is unimpressed with his mixed drink. The guy puts it down and grabs a pint of beer.]

So I had a pint of Hawk.

[Blonde is suddenly turned on.]

And now she's gonna screw me.

[Print over says "Hawk. Stay witty and sexist to the bottom of the glass".]

[Back to the house]

VYVYAN: Well, what about Babycham? One glass of that and I'm anybodys!

RICK: Then it's a bit of a pity that absolutely nobody wants you then, isn't it?!

VYVYAN: Shut up, or I'll tell everyone in this room that you've got an iron-on cartoon worm on the front of your Y-fronts that says "Girl Bait."

RICK: [uncomfortable] Oh, so you've been going through my Y-fronts, have you, Vyvyan?! I suppose you fancy me, is that it?!

VYVYAN: [pause, acting] Yes! As a matter of fact, I do, Rick! I really really fancy you. And I want to give you a big girlie kiss on the bottom!

RICK: Uh, Mike, Vyvyan's gone all funny! He said he wants to kiss my bottom!

VYVYAN: Did I say kiss you on the bottom? Oh, beg your pardon. I meant to say, stick a pick axe through your spinal column!

NEIL: Oh, no, my party's having a row!

MIKE: Yeah, no booze, you see, Neil. Tempers fray.

VYVYAN: Yeah, Neil. I'm very sober, and very very bored!

NEIL: Wait! I know! TV time.


NEIL: Yeah.

[Neil turns on the TV. Mike, Vyvyan, and Rick run and sit on the sofa. An orchestra is playing on the TV.]

RICK: Oh, God, it's already closing down! It's only half past 9.

MIKE: This is BBC1, Rick.

RICK: Oh, right.

NEIL: Not this band again. They're always on!

[yells at the television]

Crap! What about some Hawkwind or Marillion?

RICK: Yeah, shut up, you fascist Tories! Nobody tells me what time to go to bed!

[A uniformed guard comes on the TV]

GUARD: Go to bed, spotty.

RICK: Blimey! [sits back, stunned]

[The off-air high-pitched signal comes on.]

NEIL: [dancing] Oh, that's better.

MIKE: Oh, turn it off, Neil.

NEIL: No, this is really good. [sings along] Oooooooohhhhhhh.

[Vyvyan gets up and kicks the TV, destroying it.]

NEIL: Oh, Vyvyan. I was just getting into that.

VYVYAN: I'm bored and deserve to die. This is the end. Armageddon! No future!

[Vyvyan pulls the pin on a hand grenade and throws it into the refrigerator. He waits for the explosion, but it doesn't happen.]


[Vyvyan takes the cricket bat and smashes everything in the kitchen.]

RICK: [stands, a little cocky] Well, thank goodness I haven't got to stay here all summer with you ghastly so-and-sos. I can wait to get home.

MIKE: Oh, sorry, Rick. I forgot to tell you. You had a phone call this morning.

RICK: Did I? Oh, it's probably from Mummy, wanting to know what time train I'll be getting. [very happy] Honestly, she gets so overexcited when she hears I'll be coming home. She's probably started making scrummy Shepherd's Pies already!

MIKE: Actually, Rick, I don't think she'll be making any more Shepherd's Pies.

RICK: And Daddy, alright, so he's an old square. And maybe he does vote Tory. He's got where he is today by hard slog, and he's got to put tax concessions first. [laughs] Daddy's just going to be chopped to bits when he hears about my exam results. Touch wood! [laughs] Of course, we argue about politics and things all the time. Did he ask about my exams?

MIKE: Uh, I don't think so, Rick. He wouldn't be able to.

RICK: I wonder if they've redecorated my bedroom. They always talk about wanting to do it, but I'll never let them do it!

MIKE: Rick, your parents died this morning.

RICK: [continuing on] Really, I suppose it is a bit childish to have aeroplanes on your wallpaper. But they are blue, and I am a boy! At least I was the last time I looked!

<[laughs, then stops as what Mike said sinks in]

My parents are dead?

MIKE: So, I guess you'll be spending your summer here, like the rest of us.

RICK: I can't believe it. My parents are dead!

NEIL: You think that's bad?

RICK: Yes I do, actually, what's it to you, pissface?!

MIKE: Shut up, you're ruining my holiday!

RICK: Ruining your holiday? What about my holiday?! Both my parents are dead! The selfish bastards!! I was going to spend the whole summer with them!

NEIL: Shut up, right. Shut up and listen, right, for once. All the bad things that have happened to you, right. All those things have happened to me before, twice as bad and for twice as long, OK? So shut up!

RICK: Oh, shut up yourself!

MIKE: Both of you shut up!

VYVYAN: Everybody shut up!

MIKE: Who are you telling me to shut up?!

NEIL: Yeah, who are you?! A cinema commissioner?

RICK: Maybe he thinks he's Giant Haystacks.

NEIL: Or Jose Feliciano.

RICK: Someone with a girl's name anyway.

[Vyvyan hits Neil and Rick with the bat, 3 Stooges style.]

MIKE: Oh, look on the bright side, guys. At least the holiday can't get any worse.

[The doorbell, rings, and Jerzei Balowski walks through their front window. A printover on the screen says 'Put Your 3D Glasses On Now'.]

MIKE: Oh, look on the bright side, guys. At least the holiday can't get any worse.

[The doorbell, rings, and Jerzei Balowski walks through their front window. A printover on the screen says "Put Your 3D Glasses On Now".]

JERZEI: Greetings, boys!

VYVYAN, MIKE, NEIL, RICK: [together] Oh, no.

JERZEI: Hey, guys, some sod broke your window. That's 18 pounds you owe me.

RICK: Go away, Balowski. This is a private party.

JERZEI: [dancing, sings] Ba Ba Ba, Ba Barbara Ann. Ba Ba Ba, Ba Barbara Ann. [steps on a wooden chair, smashing it] Oh, some sod broke your chair. That's what happens when you have parties. That's another 27 pounds you owe me.

MIKE: Jerzei, don't you think you could come back later?

[The printover reads "They're Free In This Week's Radio Times".]

VYVYAN: Like next year?

RICK: Mr. Balowski, you're the worst landlord we've ever had!

JERZEI: You think I'm the worst landlord you've ever had? You should see me! [The print-over reads "Well you should have bought a copy, shouldn't you then - cheapskate"] Ha, I'm so funny!

[A big green monster springs out of the floor towards the camera. The printover says "Brilliant eh?"]

NEIL: [wearing 3D glasses] Wow, that was amazing!

JERZEI: [opens a ledger book] OK, now we find out all the beatiful items that Jerzei has given you, the Western consumer items, and let's see what you've done with them. Number One, a beautiful television set.

VYVYAN: Uh, smashed.

JERZEI: [writing] That's 97 pounds you owe me. Number Two....

RICK: [giggling] He said #2's.....

JERZEI: Number Two, one beautiful Afghan rug that I bought at Top Shop.

NEIL: It's all right.

VYVYAN: Yeah, it's got a few bloodstains on it.

JERZEI: [picking an elephant head up off the rug] Is this house a wildlife park? Do we say, "I've seen the elephants at Jerzei's house?" No, we don't. OK, I'll charge you 2000 pounds for parking that there. And finally, Number Three, one beatiful Huntian-Palmer style fridge. [The refrigerator explodes, the blast knocking Neil's hair off, his real hair in a net underneath.]

NEIL: Oh, no. I never knew I wore a wig. Ewwwhh. [picks his wig off of Jerzei's shoulder, puts it back on]

JERZEI: The bad new is, you owe me 1400 pounds in back rent, damages, and hire for all your fancy swimwear over the past 17 years. And as of now, you are all evicted.

RICK: Oh, bloody heck!

[Scene cuts to a man in a fancy coAt, sunglasses, sitting at a large, etheral desk. Flanking him are two angels.]

GOD: Let me introduce myself. I'm God. You really didn't expect me to be a woman, now, did you?

[Jerzei is filming an advertisement in front of the house. A sign next to him reads "For Sale. Ackland and Bream Ltd. 18 Purland Walk, Carshalton, 669 9032".]

JERZEI: Welcome to you Jerzei Homes showcase. Yes, and what a great house it is. And we don't need to use some old actor flying upside-down in a helicopter to sell you a Jerzei home. Cause Jerzei homes are great. They're crazy, you know. You get furniture with the emphasis on comedy. It's zany, it's crazy, it's wild. It's the wackiest house on television. Why, if it isn't so, may God strike me dead!

[God points his right index finger, releasing a lightning bolt. The bolt strikes Jerzei, disintegrating him. God releases more lightning from his left hand, igniting a fire in a trash can. Next to the can is John Otway, singing "Body Talk". The four boys, and Vyvyan's hamster Special Patrol Group (SPG) are trying to sleep with the other homeless, lying in an alleyway under piles of newspapers.]

VYVYAN: I'll bloody well make his body talk in a minute.

RICK: God, I can't live like this.

NEIL: What are you complaining about, Rick? You always said you wanted to live on the road.

RICK: Thatcher's Britain. Thatcher's bloody Britain! Look at me. I'm young, I'm pretty. I've got 5 O Levels. Bloomin' good grades as well, considering I didn't do a sod of work cause I'm so hard. And look at me now! Homeless, cold, and prostitute.

MIKE: Destitute, Rick.

RICK: Oh, glory be and save us, Mike, do we have to mince our words? Anyway, I can sell my body for a few good times if I want. What the hell? Who cares? I'm gorgeous! I am sex! Women want me and they're prepared to pay! So don't give me your phony morality! It's dog-eat-cat in this world, and you won't find me in a pedigree shop.

NEIL: You can't be a destitute, Rick.

RICK: Any why not? Prudy square.

NEIL: Well, who would want to go to bed with you?

VYVYAN: (points to the horizon) Look, dawn's coming up.

VYVYAN, MIKE, NEIL: [waving, together] Hi, Dawn.

MORNING: [the sun speaks] Hello, boys.

RICK: Hi, Dawn.

[A pretty girl jogs around the corner, wearing a sweatsuit and headband.]

DAWN: Hi, boys! [stops, but still does calistenics while talking] Haven't seen you since the end-of-term. What are you doing in the gutter?

NEIL: We got slung out of our house by a complete bastard.

DAWN: Oh, never mind. The results of our finals are through this morning, so that should cheer you up. I just went down to the Post Office to get mine especially early, because I'm such a girlie swat. I don't know why, but I knew I was going to do brilliantly, and I did.

[Jogs toward Rick]

RICK: [excited, matches Dawn's exercises] Dawn, Dawn, as long as you're feeling pretty good about everything, I was wondering if you fancied celebrating by letting me show you a really Good Time! [thrusts his hips to match the last 2 words] Obviously for lots of money, you know.

DAWN: Oh, all right.

RICK: [stunned] What?

DAWN: All right. How much have you got?

RICK: No, no, I meant you pay me.

DAWN: You must be joking! [knees Rick in the crotch, runs off]

VYVYAN: [obviously reciting verbatim] Look, here comes the postman.

MIKE: Vyvyan, why do you keep telling us what's just about to happen next?

VYVYAN: Because it's a studio set, Michael, and they can't afford any long shots.

[A black postman (Lenny Henry) in a medal-decorated uniform comes to them.]

POSTMAN: Guten Morgen, meine kleine Freundliche.

RICK: [still holding his crotch, doubled over] Bloody hell! Give them a uniform and they think they're Hitler.

POSTMAN: I brought you your exam results. I took the liberty of opening them, I didn't think you'd mind.

RICK: Exam results! Great! Sorry guys, this is my ticket out of the gutter. There's big bucks out there for the right face with a degree in domestic science. That's one thing I'll say for Thatcher, she definitely has put this country back on its feet.

POSTMAN: You have come bottom in the whole world.

VYVYAN: Great!

NEIL: [pause] Who came top out of us?

POSTMAN: You did, Ne il. Then Mike, then Vyvyan, then Rick. [turns to Rick, in his face] Ha!

NEIL: [gloating] I came top out of us.

VYVYAN: Oh, who cares about exam results? Who cares about life? Who cares about me? Not me, that's for sure! [punches himself in the head] I just don't care. [staggers to the ground]

MIKE: [standing in the glow of the street corner] I care. [The rest of the set fades to dark] I'm used to high and easy living. I know all about dirt. When I was a kid I had to eat it. And I'm never going back, you hear me?

RICK: What?

MIKE: I'm never going back! Yeah. And I swear now that whatever I do, I'll never be poor or hungry again! [Raises his fist in defiance] OK, guys, I've got a plan. [comes back over to the other 3 as the lights come up] Now listen very carefully. [They huddle as Mike whispers] You got that?

NEIL: Yeah, we just go [imitates Mike's whisper] psshh-psshh-psshh...brilliant.

[The scene cuts to the front of the Fascist Pig Bank. Mike, Rick, and Neil are standing in front of the bank.]

NEIL: Mike, Mike, don't you think robbing a bank is, well, it's tantamount to stealing, really?

RICK: C'mon, let's do it! White Riot. Stand Down Margaret. I'm a child of recession, I've got hate in my eyes. Ask for me tomorrow and I'll be gone cause I've got a one-way ticket to oblivion and I'm going to raise hell getting there!

MIKE: Yeah!

RICK: Yeah!

MIKE: Now let's get in there and do it.

RICK: Yeah!

MIKE: Yeah!

RICK: You mean now?

VYVYAN: [comes in with a stockade around his neck] I've got the stocks, Michael.

MIKE: What?

VYVYAN: You said we had to have stocks on our heads.

MIKE: Stockings, Vyvyan! Like tights.

RICK: Uhhhh, I'm not putting my head where some horrid girlie's bottom has been.

VYVYAN: I will!

MIKE: No, it doesn't matter anyhow. We don't need a disguise. This is a one-off job. All right, take these. [dispenses pistols to the others]

Now don't ask any questions, let's just say I didn't get them at Tesco's, OK?

NEIL: [grimacing, threatening an imaginary opponent] I didn't get them at Tesco's, OK?

MIKE: C'mon, Neil. Now, for God's sake, don't go losing your head and using them, that's all.

VYVYAN: Why not, Mike?

RICK: Yeah, c'mon. Robin Hood! Baader Meinhoff! Those bank clerks didn't have to become bank clerks! They knew the risk when they took the job! Let's go in and let them have it!

MIKE: We can't do that, Rick! If we do that, there's a slight chance that they'll discover these are water pistols.

VYVYAN: [shooting water into the air] Oh, brilliant, Mike!

MIKE: All right, has everybody got their alibis?

NEIL: Yes.

MIKE: Vyvyan?

VYVYAN: [pause] It was Rick.

MIKE: Neil?

NEIL: It was Rick.

MIKE: Rick.

RICK: [pause] It was me!

NEIL: What's your alibi, Mike?

MIKE: I don't need one, Neil. I'm the guy who phones the police. OK, Vyv, stay out here with the engine running. The getaway car is the most important element in any robbery.

VYVYAN: Message received and understood! [runs off]

[Inside the bank are several long lines. The boys burst in, guns drawn, but no one notices them.]

RICK: All right! This is it! Dog Day Afternoon. [pause] Typical. This place is completely packed. Why don't they put more staff on?

NEIL: Yeah, and it will be really bad, cause if we join one queue, then one of the others is bound to start moving really quickly. And if we join the one that was moving really quickly, then the one we were in the first place will start moving really quickly. And anyway, whichever queue we're in, the guy in front of us is bound to be from the penny arcade across the road, cashing up the whole year with millions of pennies.

[In front, another man is holding a rifle at a bank employee.]

EMPLOYEE: All right, Mr. Real Robber, the manager will see you now.

[turns and leaves, the robber following him with a large empty sack]

[Back to the boys]

MIKE: The solution is simple. All we do is join separate queues. The one who gets to the front first starts the robbery.

[A punk in a red mohwawk is in front, talking to a woman teller.]

PUNK: I'd like to open a bank account, please.

TELLER: Good morning, sir.

EMPLOYEE: [pushes Teller aside] what you need is a steady job, a lot of cash, and a reference from your bank manager. [Punk leaves]

NEIL: [waiting in line, to the man in front of him] Hello. Do you work here?

MAN: No, I'm from the penny arcade across the road.

[The bank manager, at rifle point by the Real Robber, is placing bundles of cash into a large sack that says "Euston Film Property Dept."]

MANAGER: I must tell you that I've pushed the alarm button and the police will be here at any moment.

ROBBER: Shut up and keep putting the money in the sack.

MANAGER: Of course, yes.

[Rick is philosophizing to anyone who will listen while queueing.]

RICK: Well, of course there's long queues, the banks are only open for about 5 minutes a day. So they only people who can get into them are unemployed people, and what are they doing going to banks when they're not supposed to have any money, that's what I'd like to know. [reaches the front of the Teller's queue]

TELLER: Good morning, sir.

RICK: Hello, I.....[puts on his sunglasses and points his gun]

TELLER: Good morning, sir.

RICK: Yes.....

TELLER: Good morning, sir.

EMPLOYEE: Shut up! [pushes Teller aside again] Excuse me, if you'll forgive me, but this is our Good Morning window, where customers may experience the nice face of the bank. For financial transactions, please try any of the other windows.

RICK: Look, I'm not bloomin' well queuing up again! All I want to do....

[A bull-horned voice comes from outside the bank]

VOICE: Everyone inside the bank, this is the police. Please be calm. A robbery is taking place. Lie down on the floor and await further instructions. [Rick and Mike remain standing while everyone else goes down on the ground, including Neil] We have the place surrounded.

RICK: Bloody pigs! They might have let me finish my sentence.

NEIL: Mike, the bank's being robbed. Quick, get down on the floor or you'll get hurt!

MIKE: Neil, we're doing the robbery!

NEIL: Oh! Oh, yeah. [stands]

MIKE: All right, we got no choice. We'll carry on with the robbery. If the police won't let us out, we'll shoot a hostage.

RICK: Yeah. Let's shoot Neil!

NEIL: What? [pause] Oh, yeah. OK, if you think it will help. I don't mind. I mean, after all they're only water pistols. [slams his hand over his mouth as the mistake becomes clear]

MIKE: Shhhh! Neil, I told you that was our little secret!

EMPLOYEE: [stands] Water pistols?!

TELLER: [stands] Good morning, sir.

RICK: Neil, you've just ruined everything. I never got a chance to shout "Hands Up!" [He thrusts his gun sideways, right in the middle of the Real Robber's back. The Real Robber puts his hands in the air.]

Give me the money.

[Rick turns to see the Real Robber. He grabs the sack of cash.]

MIKE: Quick!

[Rick tosses the bag to Mike and the 3 run out of the bank. Vyvyan is waiting in his car. They pile in, Mike and Neil in the back, Rick in the front.]

RICK: We did it!! WE DID IT!!!

[Vyvyan pulls his car out, driving it directly into a lamp-post]

VYVYAN: [hysterical] Oh, what have I done?! [cries]

MIKE: C'mon, Vyv, there's no time for that now.

VYVYAN: My car! My beautiful, beautiful car!

[A police siren sounds]

RICK: Oh, no, it's the pigs! This is it, guys! I'll see you later! [exits the car]

NEIL: [to Rick] Yellow chicken.

MIKE: [to Vyvyan, who is still crying] You've got to forget about your car, Vyvyan. Start life again without it. After all, you've still got SPG.

VYVYAN: I don't think so, Michael. He was asleep on the radiator.

[The camera focuses in on SPG, crushed between the pole and the grill of the car. His body floats to the sky, wearing angles' wings and a halo. Bagpipe music starts up.]

SPG: Later, you little wimp.

MIKE: We've got our whole life ahead of us. Just that we'll be spending it all in prison.

VYVYAN: [stops crying, stares ahead] Oh, yeah?!

MIKE: Oh, yeah.

NEIL: [seeing what Vyvyan sees] Oh, no!

[The three boys get out of the car as a double-decker bus pulls up. Rick motions excitedly that he is the driver and that they should get in. The bus pulls away.]

[Later on, Vyvyan is driving the bus down the highway, Rick, Mike, and Neil are in back. Neil is playing guitar, and the boys are singing Cliff Richard's "Summer Holiday."]

RICK: Yes! Yes! It's really happening!

NEIL: [reading a roadsign] Basingstoke, 35 miles!

MIKE: Yeah, this is what I call riding around in a double-decker bus.

RICK: Right on. I'm aboard the Freedom Bus, heading for Good Time City. And I haven't even paid my fare.

VYVYAN: Look, what we really need is to pick up some great-looking girls whose car has broken down, and they can do all the cooking and cleaning.

RICK: Yes, girls like Una Stubbs.

NEIL: Una Stubbs! Yeah, and after we can all play Charades.

VYVYAN: Hah! More like nudie prod games.

RICK: What's the difference? There'll be plenty of chicks for these tigers on the road to the Promised Land. This is it! It's really happening! Who needs qualifications? Who cares about Thatcher and unemployment?! We can do just exactly whatever we want to do! And you know why? Because we're Young Ones. Bachelor boys! Crazy, mad, wild-eyed, big-bottomed anarchists!! [Rick gazes ahead in horror]

Look out!! CLIFF!!!

[The bus plows through a Cliff Richard billboard and over an enormous man-made cliff, crashing down hundreds of feet.]

VYVYAN, MIKE, RICK, NEIL: [together] Whew! That was close!

[The bus explodes]

The Young Ones - Episode 12 - Summer Holiday, Script