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                            The Young Ones - Sick

              Written by Ben Elton, Rik Mayall and Lise Mayer.

                     Additional material by Alexei Sayle

                          Filmed by the BBC in 1984

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Compiled by Zog (pdherzog@aud.alcatel.com): 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.

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     [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: Well! That is the first sensible thing you have 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.]

MIKE: [knocks on the door and enters] Just one more thing...

     [Neil suddenly sneezes violently. A stream of snot hits Mike square in
     the face]

MIKE: Has anyone got a tissue?

     [Neil sneezes again. Everyone ducks for cover]

RICK: Stop it, Neil!

NEIL: I can't stop it.

     [Sneezes, and snot hits Rick in the head. Sneezes again, and a huge
     stream of snot shatters a vase. Neil continues sneezing uncontrollably,
     sending snot everywhere]

RICK: [Takes the pillowcase off his pillow] Quick, Vyvyan! The pillowcase!

     [Vyvyan grabs the pillowcase and ducks out of the room. Cut to Neil
     sneezing into the camera. Vyvyan leaps into Neil's bedroom and puts it
     over Neil's head as the others hold him]

RICK: Phew!

     [Neil sneezes and the pillowcase flies off his head.]

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 punches 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]

     [Mike walks out the front door into the street, past Madness, who are
     playing "Our House" with 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 pound worth of Durex, please. [The girl looks disgusted] Oh, sorry,
force of habit.

     [Vyvyan hits Rick in the head with a hammer, knocking him off his bed.
     Vyvyan leaps on top of him and begins pummeling him with the hammer]

NEIL: Oh, wow. I hope Mike hurries back with the cure.

VYVYAN: No. No, Neil, it's Madness this week! [Goes back to hitting Rick with
the 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 van. In the back of the police
     van is a policeman with Brian Damage, a dangerous criminal in black hat
     and jacket]

VAN DRIVER: Get out! Get out of it, clear off! Bloody pop concert, right in
the middle of the road.

POLICEMAN: Go on, run 'em down!

VAN DRIVER: I can't do that!

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

DAMAGE: They were a great band, weren't they? Middle Of The Road, "ooh, ee,
chirpy chirpy cheap cheap"?

POLICEMAN: Shut your mouth, Damage!

DAMAGE: 'Ere, 'Mr. Damage' to you, copper. And nobody tells Mr. Damage to
shut his mouth. Not if they wanna keep the head in the vicinity of the
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 surprised, 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'mgoing
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
     shotgun. 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 shotgun 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?

MIKE: And more to the point, what happens if we DO move to the wall?

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 sar-carstic or something, my son? That's
one of my least favorite things, that happens to be. Sar-carsm.

SPG: [watching everything from his seat on top of the fridge] Really.
Hah-huh.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 sar-carstic. 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
sar-carstic.

NEIL: I wasn't, you know, being sar-castic.

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.]

VYVYAN'S MUM: Yoo-hoo! Hello!

DAMAGE: Oh, God!!

VYVYAN'S MUM: 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.

VYVYAN'S MUM: That's no way to talk to your mother, Vyvyan!

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: Don't be so sexist, Vyvyan.

     [squeezes him hard in the crotch]

VYVYAN: [in great pain,
