THE "BOTTOM" FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS LIST
Newsgroups: alt.comedy.british,rec.arts.tv.uk,rec.answers,alt.answers,news.answers
Approved: news-answers-request@MIT.EDU
From: casino@pobox.upenn.edu (Melinda 'Bob' Casino)
Organization: <Schoepenhauer Publishing>
Reply-To: casino@pobox.upenn.edu (Melinda 'Bob' Casino)
Sender: casino
Subject: Bottom (British television show) FAQ (Part 3 of 3)
Followup-To: poster
Summary: This is a faq answering questions about the British comedy "Bottom".
Archive-name: tv/british-comedy/bottom-faq/part3
Posting-Frequency: monthly
Last-modified: 10 Feb 1995
Version: 2.7
URL: http://cathouse.org/BritishComedy/Bottom/
Part 3
=====================================================
THE "BOTTOM" FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS LIST
=====================================================
Compiled and maintained by Version 2.7
Melinda 'Bob' Casino <casino@pobox.upenn.edu>
=====================================================
"'S Out" by Adrian Edmondson and Rik Mayall
=====================================================
The most recently posted ASCII version of this file is available via
email. Simply email mail-server@rtfm.mit.edu with this in the body:
send usenet/news.answers/tv/british-comedy/bottom-faq/*
FAQ compilation Copyright 1994 by Melinda Casino. This FAQ is FREE, and
should not be used by anyone for monetary gain. Include credits in all
reproductions of this FAQ.
THANKS: Many thanks go to my sister, Michelle, who was instrumental in
expediting this transcript and ensuring accuracy.
SPONSOR: Brought to you by Mazola, best stuff to drink when you're drunk.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SCENE: Outdoors: Wimbledon Common. A sign says 'DOGS TOILET'.
RICHIE: La la la la la da da! Oh, I don't know about you, but after a long
hike like that I'm just about ready to pitch camp and hit the sack.
EDDIE: What do you mean? I can just about see the bus from here!
R: Yes, this looks like a good spot, a natural sort of...
E: Shithole.
R: Yeah--no, no, no, no. I mean a natural hollow, in the lie of the wind,
fresh water supply, the wind coming from (wets finger and holds it in the
air)--gaw, oh, dear oh dear oh dear (bad smell) You'd think people'd have
better control of their dogs, wouldn't you? Look at that. Huh! Must've been
a Great Dane! Aw, we can't camp here, we're not French. Hi-dee-ho, on we go,
Eddie. No rest for the hygienic. Dear oh dear, who'd be English! (Steps
forward one foot) Yeah, this is much better here. Much more likely spot. (R
takes camping gear off his back) Ah, this is great, isn't it Eddie?
E: What?
R: This...
E: No.
R: You poor sad deformed urban pustule. This is real life: nature, struggle,
destiny. Where's your romance?
E: Well, she works in Sketchleys every Saturday afternoon. Should be going
out with her tonight. That's a point. If I pop off in half an hour I can
just get to the chemist before they close.
R: You stay where you are, Judas. Where's your sense of adventure?
E: Ah, now, she's in Chiswick.
R: No, I mean your spuuunk? I don't--no, no, no--Let's just avoid that line
of questioning, shall we? Come on, Eddie. We don't need birds. Besides, if
we don't do it, we'll lose that bet with Mad Ken Stalin that we can't live
rough in the country for a week. And we haven't got fifty quid, and I'd
rather hang on to my knee-caps if it's all the same to you.
E: A WEEK!?
R: Uh, yes, hah. I-I was hoping to break that to you at a more opportune
moment.
E: A BLOODY WEEK?
R: Yeah, well, I wasn't the one who got drunk and bet him he couldn't stick
a dart in his temple. Once he'd done that, he had us over a barrel.
E: But I've only got enough underwear for tonight.
R: That's all you've ever had.
E: That's true.
R: Now, look, we're stuck with it, so will you for heaven's sake quit
moaning. Come on, let's get the tent up. Honestly, Alexander the Great
never had this problem.
E: Well he wasn't a complete dickhead, was he?
R: Right, that's it. That's it. (takes fighting stance) Yeees. I've been
doing evening classes in Jujitsu, you know.
E: Well you should have taken them in Hammersmith, then you could've saved
money on the bus fares.
R: Ah, HA-HA-HA-HA! (hysterical laugh as he catches the joke) Eddie, what
great mates we are! (Eddie looks to the camera and mimes wanking motion).
R: Jujitsu, Hammersmith, marvelous! Come on, let's get the tent right
up.
Cut to scene of Richie putting up tent. Camera pulls back to reveal
extremely small tent. Eddie is sitting on a bench observing.
E: Right, well, that's the toilet tent--where do we sleep?
R: OH, ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Look out everybody I'm about to blow my trousers
off in merriment at Eddie's sarcasm.
E: What, you mean that's the whole tent?
R: Eddie, this isn't just a tent. This is a World Ranger Storm-Buster 4. You
can go anywhere in that.
E: Yeah, and we probably will as soon as the breeze gets up.
R: Hey, hey, don't knock it. You'll be glad for this when the bomb drops.
E: What, you think that's going to withstand a twenty-megaton nuclear
blast?!
R: Well you'll be sleeping in it tonight so we'll find out, won't we?
E: Wait a minute--we're both going to sleep in this?
R: Yes.
E: We'll be very close, won't we?
R: Well, we'll have our sleeping bags to keep us--respectable.
E: Sleeping bags?! What's this all about? The last thing I remember is
ordering two pints of mild.
R: Well I've got my sleeping bag.
E: Well where's my sleeping bag?
R: Well the last I hear she was in Chiswick!
E: So there's only one sleeping bag?
R: It would appear so, yes.
E: Oh, yeah, I get it...
R: Eddie, I'm not trying to trick you into a nudie sauce romp, believe me.
I'd rather stick my genitals in a bee's nest.
E: Kinky.
R: What do you mean, 'kinky'? How am I kinky?
E: You want to stick your genitals in a bee's nest.
R: No I don't, that's the whole point, it's sarcasm, uh! Look, the point
I was trying to make is that though sticking one's genitals in a bee's nest
is a stupendously un-nice experience, it's nevertheless preferable to a
squidgy sleeping bag session with you! Alright? Now can we just get our
equipment out? I mean, can't we get our tackle out--no, I mean get our
gear--oh, God, you can't say anything without some dreadful double-entendre
lurking around the corner. Look shall we just unpack and get dinner on the
go, alright? (Turns back to the camp. Turns around suddenly with migraine
expression) I bet you forgot the tin-opener, didn't you? I despair, I
really do! I give you one simple task, one little obligation, and what do
you do? You forget it!
E: Well that's where you're wrong, be-cauuuse (pulls tins-opener out of bag)
ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! (waves it tauntingly in Richie's face) Here it 'tis. Right!
Where are the tins?
R: Shit! Shit! You stupid bastard! Why did you make me forget them? Why do I
always have to do every--we are going to starve to death now. We are going
to starve to death.
E: But look! I've got a packet of chocolate hob-nobs.
R: (Completely relieved) Oh, thank God. Ah-ha-ha-ha, oh Eddie, we're saved.
E: What do you mean, 'we'? I'm alright, I don't fancy your chances much.
R: Oh, have a heart, Eddie. It's your old pal here, Richie.
E: Exactly. Bugger off.
(Richie leans towards the hob-nobs Eddie is eating, mouth open. Eddie hits
Richie in the face. Richie winds up for a swing, Eddie gets up, the punch
lands on the metal bench with a thud. Eddie scrambles into the tent.)
R: Eddie? Eddie? (hears Eddie eating in the tent. Takes pole from tent and
whacks the tent repeatedly. Eddie crawls out. Richie continues to stomp on
the tent, as Eddie stands by watching. Both nod to each other when he
finishes. The struggle for the hob-nobs continues. Richie's eye gets
speared with the other tent pole. He takes it out and turns around, winding
a punch towards Eddie. He misses, but the hob-nobs are knocked into flight.
Great direction here as we see the hob-nobs flying, in slow-motion, only to
land in a murky, foul pond. A few more blows are exchanged as a result. End
of scene, signaled by jazz music).
NEW SCENE: Eddie and Richie are drying out the hob-nobs over a fire.
R: What was that film where they ate each other?
E: Deepthroat, wasn't it?
R: Yeah, that's right...great, wasn't it? Anyway, anyway, back to the
question of food.
E: Oh, yeah. Hang on, this is Wimbledon Common, isn't it?
R: Yeeees....
E: Hey, I wonder how much meat you get on a womble?
R: Eddie, wombles don't exist.
E: Oh yes they do, I've seen them on the telly.
R: Eddie, would it scar you for life if I told you they were just
puppets?
E: Yes it would.
R: Good. Eddie, THEY WERE JUST PUPPETS.
E: Well what's that then?
R: It's a--arrgh! (cut to hedgehog crawling in the grass) Eddie, that is
a hedgehog.
E: No, it's not. That is great Uncle Bulgaria.
R: Well if it's great uncle Mulgaria, then the series has taken a sad turn
for the worse because he's wandering around in the nude.
E: Whuah! The wombles have gone x-rated!
R: Eddie, pop your insane leaking brain back in its sponge-bag for just
an instant and concentrate. Now, womble or not, that is our supper.
E: It'll be a bit spiky, won't it?
R: Eddie, red Indians eat them, y'know.
E: Is that why they run around going hohohohohoho! (Indian motion in front
of mouth)
R: Eddie, Eddie, you're so soi-disant (French for "self-styled")! Red Native
Americans do not run around the place going 'hohohohohoh'. No, it's
ridiculous. They run around going 'How.'
E: I bet they do. I bet they run around going 'How the bloody hell are
we supposed to eat that spiky hedgehog?'
R: No they do not. They run around the place saying, 'How lovely that spiky
hedgehog meal was, Mrs. Sitting Bull. We really must do the same next
Tuesday, it was charming. How's Roger's prep school, by the way?
E: What the bloody hell are you talking about you madman?
R: You wouldn't understand, Eddie--different social strata. Now, how are
we gonna kill it?
E: Well, you could bore it to death.
R: Right-o! Nooo---hmmmm...oh, it's all academic now, he's buggered off. Oh,
no! There he is, in the thicket! Right, this is it. Uh, okay, right.
E: Oh, I know. Let's entice him out with a chocolate hob-nob.
R: Great idea, great idea. And then when he's out in the open, we'll
surround him and finish him off. Right. So, we need to gather some sticks
and sort of lash them together to fashion some sort of rifle!
E: I wonder what the Pygmies do?
R: They wander around saying, 'Crikey, isn't everything big?'
E: It's no wonder they died out then, is it?
R: Huh-huh-huh.
E: Hang on, I've got my darts. And we can use this (picks up tent pole) as a
blow-pipe.
R: Oh yes. Oh Eddie yes. Darts and a blow-pipe--very rainforest. God, I wish
Sting was here to see this.
E: Right, here we go.
R: Oh Eddie Eddie, hang on. Now listen, if we're going to do this really
really properly, we're gonna have to have some proper Amazon Indian names
for ourselves.
E: Come on before he goes off to meet Orinoco.
R: Shut up, Eddie, shut up. This is important. Right, now it's got to be
sort of eagley, with a dash of running dog and not forgetting a hint of
being a tower of attraction to women.
E: Mmmm--what about Neville?
R: That's brilliant! Running Neville--no, no, Sitting Neville. No,
nooooo--Squatting Neville.
E: Come on, he's getting away.
R: Don't hustle me-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-alright, I don't like it, but
we'll have to go with Pocahontos.
E: Alright, Hogateepontas, entice him out.
R: Hey, don't forget to make the noise.
(Both run at the thicket, making the 'Indian noise,' then stop
simultaneously)
R: Oh, he's buggered off.
E: Oh look! There he is, by the tree!
R: Right! Let's go! Ooo, hey Eddie: do you think we should do this in our
underpants? It would be great, it would be really Indiany. We could get
some hankies and put them down the front and the back like flaps,
and--stupid idear, isn't it? We haven't got any hankies. No, hang on--we
could use some pages from the Evening Standard! They're even bigger! We get
a big flap down the front, and a big flap down the back, we'll get our
biros out and we'll doodle on our nipples. Take the point, then it's a bit
chilly, isn't it? Right then, let's hunt. Huh! (in a sweet voice) Mrs.
Tiggewinkle...Mrs. Tiggewinkle. It's not working. Mr. Tiggiewinkle...yum,
yum (throws hob-nob into the bush) Right, Eddie, he's broken cover. Let 'im
have it.
(Eddie puts blowpipe to mouth and blows. We hear a "thump" as if it went
into something soft)
E: Did I get him?
R: No you missed.
E: Damn!
R: Eddie me old chum...
E: Yes me old mate?
R: Do us a favor and pull this dart out of the back of my head, would you?
(We now see the dart has lodged in Richie's head).
E: Right me ol' mucker. Blimey, how'd that get in there?
R: I've no idea. Hurry along now, I'm losing me eyesight.
(The dart comes out with a pop, as Richie falls face first into the camp
fire. Richie's face is singed and he rushes, yelling, towards the pond.
Dunks head in)
E: Richie
R: (Gurgle)
E: You've put the fire out now.
R: Eddie! There's a fish in there.(Eddie aims with blowpipe) There he is!
Let him have it! (Eddie blows again)
E: Go and get him Richie.
R: No I think I'll just hang around here on the shore if it's all the same
with you."
E: Come on, he's only a fish.
R: Yes, I realize that, but unfortunately my hand is now attached to this
boulder. (Lifts hand to reveal dart and boulder. Eddie pulls dart out of
hand. Boulder falls on Richie's foot-Richie yells in pain.)
R: Right. Give me the blowpipe.
E: Yep, I'm very sorry Richie.
R: Give me the dart.
E: Here you go.
R: Right. Go and stand over there.
E: Fair enough.
(Richie loads the dart in the blowpipe and proceeds to suck in the dart).
R: ARRRGGGHHH! (muffled) Scthlap me!
E: I beg your pardon?
R: SCTHLAP--ME!
E: Oh! I like this game...(E slaps R in the face) Hey, you've got a dart
in there, did you know that? You-have got a dart-in there!
R: Geth ith out!
E: I be-I beg your pardon." (Eddie closes his coat)
R: Geth ith out!
E: Kinky!
R: THE DTHARTH!
E: Oh. (Eddie picks up mallet and hits Richie on the head. Dart ricochets to
finally land in Richie's posterior.)
R: OOOOWWWWW! (Richie picks out dart and throws it away) I don't think we're
really cut out for this dart business, do you?
E: The only thing that's had anything to eat around here is the bloody
hedgehog. There's only one hob-nob left--that's 27 hob-nobs he's had! It's
no wonder he shits like a Great Dane.
R: Hey, Eddie, why don't we have a go at that fish?
E: But we haven't got a fishing rod.
R: Ugh. Hey, why don't we use your vest as a net?
E: Would I have to be in it?
R: Come on, give us the vest. (Eddie rips off vest without getting
undressed) Hah! Right! Get the stove nice and hot. Stand back Moby, here I
come! (Richie flings vest in the pond. Meanwhile Eddie starts the fire
using propane gas thingamagig)
E: Have you caught anything yet?
R: (Lifting up condom) Yes, I think I very probably have caught something,
Eddie. It's quite a love nest around here, you know.
(Richie continues to forage, this time stepping into the pond. We can hear
the fuel leaking as Eddie searches for matches)
R: Oh! Great! Eddie, I've landed one! She is a beauty! (Richie holds up
a very small fish, speared with the dart)
E: Nice one, Richie.
R: Look at 'er. _Look at 'er_. She must be THAT big! (Richie holds arms
wide) Quite the little battle there--yeah! I'm a-I'm afraid we lost the
vest in the battle.
E: (pause) You mean my vest is in the pond...
R: Yes. Is the stove lit yet?
E: Half.
R: Half?
E: Yeah, you haven't seen the matches anywhere, have you?
R: Noooo--you could try rubbing sticks together....
E: Mmmmm. It's a tad more urgent than that.
R: Oh alright. Alright, you can use my Briquet (NOTE: French for "lighter").
But don't keep your finger down for longer than a second. (Eddie lights the
fire, which shoots eight feet in the air)
E: Stove's lit.
R: Nice one. Right! Let's get Moby under the grill! I'm famished! (Richie
puts Moby on a stick, and holds in fire. Moby catches fire. Richie waves it
around trying to put it out. Finally he stomps on it)
E: Is it done, then?
R: I think so. They don't take long, do they?
E: What, and we just eat it straight off the ground, do we? Is that
safe?
R: Oh Eddie, you and your hygiene. We're in the countryside here, we've got
everything we need. We'll wash it in the lake--lovely fresh mountain
stream, it'll be *lovely*. (Looks down at fish) Yeah, well you pick it up,
it's a bit near the dogshit for me. (Eddie 'washes' the fish)
E: Ooops! Lost a bit. Which end's the head, do you think?
R: Oh come here, give it to country boy, I'll divide it up. Uhh, well, it's
bound to be one or the other, isn't it? Uhhh--heads or tails? No, we can't
do that can we? Alright, I'll have the black bit, you have the flakey bit.
Good health! (Richie pops it into his mouth) That was--disgusting! You're
not eating yours, Eddie?
E: No, I'm keeping it.
R: What for?
E: Evidence. (Takes out plastic baggie and puts remains of fish in it)
R: Come on Eddie, you've got to get some nutrition.
E: I'm alright, mate. I've got half a bottle of scotch here, I know who's
side I'm on.
R: Yeeessss---Let's get boozy and sit around the campfire singing dirty
rugby songs.
E: Yeah! Right, here we go. (Fire finally runs out of fuel as they sit down)
Oh well! First shot to me. (Eddie drinks the rest in one long gulp) There
you go.
R: Alright! (Richie puts empty bottle to his mouth) Ohhhwowowow! I'm going
crazy! Okay, dirty rugby songs, here we go! Twinkle, twinkle, little--oh,
that's not really dirty, is it? Eddie? (Eddie has collapsed) Oh, Eddie,
don't pass out already! You'll miss out on all the fun.
E: What fun?
R: Yes, I suppose that's a point. When you come to think of it, nothing ever
really happens in the country, does it? (Just then a flasher comes by and
flashes them) You wonder why they do it, really, don't you? I mean, with
something as small as that...mine's bigger than that and mine's *tiny*.
Ish. Tinyish. Oh well. (Stands up) Time for bed.
E: What do you mean, it's only half past five?!
R: We're in the country now, and you know what they say: 'A cuckoo in May,
oora-oora-ay!'
SCENE ENDS SIGNALED BY JAZZ MUSIC.
NEW SCENE: Night, with a full moon. Eddie and Richie are squeezed next to
each other in the tent. The sign that says 'DOGS TOILET' is within the
confines of the tent.
R: Well. Here we are Edward. You sure you didn't sneak a quick peek at
my underpants when I was getting into my sleeping bag?
E: Absolutely Richie. I give you my word of honor, I did not catch even the
slightest glimpse of your gaudily stained love-blob containers.
R: Right. Good. Well. Nighty-night, then...What do you normally do when you
got to bed, Eddie?
E: I normally have a bit of a kip.
R: You're so concise. I mean, what's your going-to-bed routine?
E: Oh, routine. Well, I normally get into bed, and then I have a bit of
a kip.
R: Wonder what's on telly right now. Probably missing Emmerdale Farm. Mat'll
probably have his arm up some cow's backside by now. Lucky bugger.
E: We'll miss The Late Show of course. Gaw, that bird in the red specs...
(makes puffing sound)
R: Eddie, are you carrying a torch for her?
E: (Looks down at trousers) No, it's just the way my trousers ruck up.
R: Oh. (Notices Eddie has started reading something) What are you reading,
Eddie?
E: I don't know, I'm too drunk to focus.
R: (sigh) Bored now...you ever been hang-gliding?
E: Nope.
R: No, nor me. Well that's exhausted that one, then. Huh. I can't think
of anything else to talk about you know.
E: WELL NIGHT-NIGHT THEN!
R: Yes, I suppose so. Night-night. Sleep tight.
Hope-the-bed-bugs-do-not-bite.
If they do, do a poo, put it in a Cornish stew.
Into the ambulance, dring, dring, dring,
Fish trousers elephant in Peking.
Saw a busy bee, tiddle-diddle-dee,
Daddy's an accountant just like me.
Night-night, God bless. (Immediately shuts eyes and goes to sleep)
I'm still not sleepy you know...You know, I think it's the sleeping bag.
It's letting in a draft.
E: Oh my heart bleeds.
R: Come on Eddie. I'm more sensitive than you are. Do us a favor, old pal.
Grab a hold of my drawstring and give it a bloody good yank.
E: I beg your pardon?
R: No, here.
E: Oh. (Eddie yanks string so that it's very tight around Richie's neck)
R: Okay, fine, fine! Good. Right. Night-night, then. (Leans over to kiss
Eddie, suddenly realizes it's inappropriate) No, no, no! Put the light out
Eddie, would you? (Eddie starts to snore) Oh, God, I can't get out. I'll
have to do it meself. (Tries to blow out the lamp. Inches closer while
blowing. Next shot is of Richie burning his face) OOOooooo--oh, God, who'd
be me? Night-night, world.
(Storm starts with clap of thunder and lightning. Rain pours down. The
exaggerated hoot of an own is heard.)
R: Eddie, Eddie! There's someone outside, doing owl impressions. (Owl hoots
again) Not very good ones, either. (Eddie wakes up and starts thrashing
around. Richie hits him repeatedly with a cooking pot held in his mouth)
E: What are you doing that for? I was having a dream.
R: I know--it sounded harrowing.
E: No! I was in bed with Kim Basinger. It was fantastic. Let's get back
to sleep very quickly. (Both shut their eyes)
E: WHERE THE BLOODY HELL AM I?!
R: No Eddie, calm down, you're in a tent--you're in a tent. Listen, Eddie, I
think there's something outside.
E: Yeah, well, there's bound to be something outside, Richie. You can't
expect the universe and its entire contents to be contained within the
confines of a small canvass tent.
R: You're very philosophical for this time of night, Eddie.
E: Yeah, well I've had half a bottle of Scotch, what do you expect?
R: No, listen! (Owl noises again) No, Eddie, I'm serious. I'm getting a
sense of something magnificently evil, black, and foul hanging in the air
waiting to destroy us.
E: Yeah, that would be the fish repeating on you. (Owl hoots)
R: There it is again...what do you think it is? A wolf? A bear?
E: WOMBLES!!
R: WOMBLES! Oh, oh, look Eddie, Eddie, why don't we bring the fire inside
the tent to ward them off?
E: Well that'd be a bit dangerous, wouldn't it?
R: No, it's gone out.
E: Well what's the point then?
R: Oh--oh yes, silly me!
E: Heyayayayayaya--why don't we light a small fire inside the tent?
R: Alright, just a small one.
E: Oh, you know me. A tiny little bitsy teeny one.
R: Good ole Eddie.
E: Now, where's the paraffin? Here we go. (Eddie starts to drink it)
R: No! No, Eddie, don't drink it, we need that!
E: Stand well back.
R: What do you mean, 'stand well back?' I can't get out of this bloody
sleeping bag, can I?
E: Here we go.
R: No--Eddie, change of plan! (Exterior shot of tent. Fire bursts out both
sides of the tent)
R: (inside the tent, both their faces are burned) Nice one, Eddie. That
should ward them off. (Shadow appears outside the tent) Oh! Eddie! Look!
Help me get out of this sleeping bag!
E: There's no time! (Eddie zips down the tent entrance. Zipper is raised
slowly from the other side. Our friend, the crazy flasher, sticks his love
spuds in the tent, laughing hysterically. Eddie and Richie scream. Alot.
Eddie zips down the tent. Flasher runs off screaming, and taking the tent
with him.)
E: (Understated) Right, well. That's about it for me. I'm off. (Richie tries
to inch after him like a worm in his sleeping bag)
E: What are you not coming?
R: Well I can't, I can't move, can I?
E: Well that's a point. (Eddie picks up mallet used earlier)
R: Eddie, no!
I'll let the reader guess what happens next. :)
===================================================================
t h e e n d
Approved: news-answers-request@MIT.EDU
From: casino@pobox.upenn.edu (Melinda 'Bob' Casino)
Organization: <Schoepenhauer Publishing>
Reply-To: casino@pobox.upenn.edu (Melinda 'Bob' Casino)
Sender: casino
Subject: Bottom (British television show) FAQ (Part 3 of 3)
Followup-To: poster
Summary: This is a faq answering questions about the British comedy "Bottom".
Archive-name: tv/british-comedy/bottom-faq/part3
Posting-Frequency: monthly
Last-modified: 10 Feb 1995
Version: 2.7
URL: http://cathouse.org/BritishComedy/Bottom/
Part 3
=====================================================
THE "BOTTOM" FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS LIST
=====================================================
Compiled and maintained by Version 2.7
Melinda 'Bob' Casino <casino@pobox.upenn.edu>
=====================================================
"'S Out" by Adrian Edmondson and Rik Mayall
=====================================================
The most recently posted ASCII version of this file is available via
email. Simply email mail-server@rtfm.mit.edu with this in the body:
send usenet/news.answers/tv/british-comedy/bottom-faq/*
FAQ compilation Copyright 1994 by Melinda Casino. This FAQ is FREE, and
should not be used by anyone for monetary gain. Include credits in all
reproductions of this FAQ.
THANKS: Many thanks go to my sister, Michelle, who was instrumental in
expediting this transcript and ensuring accuracy.
SPONSOR: Brought to you by Mazola, best stuff to drink when you're drunk.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SCENE: Outdoors: Wimbledon Common. A sign says 'DOGS TOILET'.
RICHIE: La la la la la da da! Oh, I don't know about you, but after a long
hike like that I'm just about ready to pitch camp and hit the sack.
EDDIE: What do you mean? I can just about see the bus from here!
R: Yes, this looks like a good spot, a natural sort of...
E: Shithole.
R: Yeah--no, no, no, no. I mean a natural hollow, in the lie of the wind,
fresh water supply, the wind coming from (wets finger and holds it in the
air)--gaw, oh, dear oh dear oh dear (bad smell) You'd think people'd have
better control of their dogs, wouldn't you? Look at that. Huh! Must've been
a Great Dane! Aw, we can't camp here, we're not French. Hi-dee-ho, on we go,
Eddie. No rest for the hygienic. Dear oh dear, who'd be English! (Steps
forward one foot) Yeah, this is much better here. Much more likely spot. (R
takes camping gear off his back) Ah, this is great, isn't it Eddie?
E: What?
R: This...
E: No.
R: You poor sad deformed urban pustule. This is real life: nature, struggle,
destiny. Where's your romance?
E: Well, she works in Sketchleys every Saturday afternoon. Should be going
out with her tonight. That's a point. If I pop off in half an hour I can
just get to the chemist before they close.
R: You stay where you are, Judas. Where's your sense of adventure?
E: Ah, now, she's in Chiswick.
R: No, I mean your spuuunk? I don't--no, no, no--Let's just avoid that line
of questioning, shall we? Come on, Eddie. We don't need birds. Besides, if
we don't do it, we'll lose that bet with Mad Ken Stalin that we can't live
rough in the country for a week. And we haven't got fifty quid, and I'd
rather hang on to my knee-caps if it's all the same to you.
E: A WEEK!?
R: Uh, yes, hah. I-I was hoping to break that to you at a more opportune
moment.
E: A BLOODY WEEK?
R: Yeah, well, I wasn't the one who got drunk and bet him he couldn't stick
a dart in his temple. Once he'd done that, he had us over a barrel.
E: But I've only got enough underwear for tonight.
R: That's all you've ever had.
E: That's true.
R: Now, look, we're stuck with it, so will you for heaven's sake quit
moaning. Come on, let's get the tent up. Honestly, Alexander the Great
never had this problem.
E: Well he wasn't a complete dickhead, was he?
R: Right, that's it. That's it. (takes fighting stance) Yeees. I've been
doing evening classes in Jujitsu, you know.
E: Well you should have taken them in Hammersmith, then you could've saved
money on the bus fares.
R: Ah, HA-HA-HA-HA! (hysterical laugh as he catches the joke) Eddie, what
great mates we are! (Eddie looks to the camera and mimes wanking motion).
R: Jujitsu, Hammersmith, marvelous! Come on, let's get the tent right
up.
Cut to scene of Richie putting up tent. Camera pulls back to reveal
extremely small tent. Eddie is sitting on a bench observing.
E: Right, well, that's the toilet tent--where do we sleep?
R: OH, ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Look out everybody I'm about to blow my trousers
off in merriment at Eddie's sarcasm.
E: What, you mean that's the whole tent?
R: Eddie, this isn't just a tent. This is a World Ranger Storm-Buster 4. You
can go anywhere in that.
E: Yeah, and we probably will as soon as the breeze gets up.
R: Hey, hey, don't knock it. You'll be glad for this when the bomb drops.
E: What, you think that's going to withstand a twenty-megaton nuclear
blast?!
R: Well you'll be sleeping in it tonight so we'll find out, won't we?
E: Wait a minute--we're both going to sleep in this?
R: Yes.
E: We'll be very close, won't we?
R: Well, we'll have our sleeping bags to keep us--respectable.
E: Sleeping bags?! What's this all about? The last thing I remember is
ordering two pints of mild.
R: Well I've got my sleeping bag.
E: Well where's my sleeping bag?
R: Well the last I hear she was in Chiswick!
E: So there's only one sleeping bag?
R: It would appear so, yes.
E: Oh, yeah, I get it...
R: Eddie, I'm not trying to trick you into a nudie sauce romp, believe me.
I'd rather stick my genitals in a bee's nest.
E: Kinky.
R: What do you mean, 'kinky'? How am I kinky?
E: You want to stick your genitals in a bee's nest.
R: No I don't, that's the whole point, it's sarcasm, uh! Look, the point
I was trying to make is that though sticking one's genitals in a bee's nest
is a stupendously un-nice experience, it's nevertheless preferable to a
squidgy sleeping bag session with you! Alright? Now can we just get our
equipment out? I mean, can't we get our tackle out--no, I mean get our
gear--oh, God, you can't say anything without some dreadful double-entendre
lurking around the corner. Look shall we just unpack and get dinner on the
go, alright? (Turns back to the camp. Turns around suddenly with migraine
expression) I bet you forgot the tin-opener, didn't you? I despair, I
really do! I give you one simple task, one little obligation, and what do
you do? You forget it!
E: Well that's where you're wrong, be-cauuuse (pulls tins-opener out of bag)
ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! (waves it tauntingly in Richie's face) Here it 'tis. Right!
Where are the tins?
R: Shit! Shit! You stupid bastard! Why did you make me forget them? Why do I
always have to do every--we are going to starve to death now. We are going
to starve to death.
E: But look! I've got a packet of chocolate hob-nobs.
R: (Completely relieved) Oh, thank God. Ah-ha-ha-ha, oh Eddie, we're saved.
E: What do you mean, 'we'? I'm alright, I don't fancy your chances much.
R: Oh, have a heart, Eddie. It's your old pal here, Richie.
E: Exactly. Bugger off.
(Richie leans towards the hob-nobs Eddie is eating, mouth open. Eddie hits
Richie in the face. Richie winds up for a swing, Eddie gets up, the punch
lands on the metal bench with a thud. Eddie scrambles into the tent.)
R: Eddie? Eddie? (hears Eddie eating in the tent. Takes pole from tent and
whacks the tent repeatedly. Eddie crawls out. Richie continues to stomp on
the tent, as Eddie stands by watching. Both nod to each other when he
finishes. The struggle for the hob-nobs continues. Richie's eye gets
speared with the other tent pole. He takes it out and turns around, winding
a punch towards Eddie. He misses, but the hob-nobs are knocked into flight.
Great direction here as we see the hob-nobs flying, in slow-motion, only to
land in a murky, foul pond. A few more blows are exchanged as a result. End
of scene, signaled by jazz music).
NEW SCENE: Eddie and Richie are drying out the hob-nobs over a fire.
R: What was that film where they ate each other?
E: Deepthroat, wasn't it?
R: Yeah, that's right...great, wasn't it? Anyway, anyway, back to the
question of food.
E: Oh, yeah. Hang on, this is Wimbledon Common, isn't it?
R: Yeeees....
E: Hey, I wonder how much meat you get on a womble?
R: Eddie, wombles don't exist.
E: Oh yes they do, I've seen them on the telly.
R: Eddie, would it scar you for life if I told you they were just
puppets?
E: Yes it would.
R: Good. Eddie, THEY WERE JUST PUPPETS.
E: Well what's that then?
R: It's a--arrgh! (cut to hedgehog crawling in the grass) Eddie, that is
a hedgehog.
E: No, it's not. That is great Uncle Bulgaria.
R: Well if it's great uncle Mulgaria, then the series has taken a sad turn
for the worse because he's wandering around in the nude.
E: Whuah! The wombles have gone x-rated!
R: Eddie, pop your insane leaking brain back in its sponge-bag for just
an instant and concentrate. Now, womble or not, that is our supper.
E: It'll be a bit spiky, won't it?
R: Eddie, red Indians eat them, y'know.
E: Is that why they run around going hohohohohoho! (Indian motion in front
of mouth)
R: Eddie, Eddie, you're so soi-disant (French for "self-styled")! Red Native
Americans do not run around the place going 'hohohohohoh'. No, it's
ridiculous. They run around going 'How.'
E: I bet they do. I bet they run around going 'How the bloody hell are
we supposed to eat that spiky hedgehog?'
R: No they do not. They run around the place saying, 'How lovely that spiky
hedgehog meal was, Mrs. Sitting Bull. We really must do the same next
Tuesday, it was charming. How's Roger's prep school, by the way?
E: What the bloody hell are you talking about you madman?
R: You wouldn't understand, Eddie--different social strata. Now, how are
we gonna kill it?
E: Well, you could bore it to death.
R: Right-o! Nooo---hmmmm...oh, it's all academic now, he's buggered off. Oh,
no! There he is, in the thicket! Right, this is it. Uh, okay, right.
E: Oh, I know. Let's entice him out with a chocolate hob-nob.
R: Great idea, great idea. And then when he's out in the open, we'll
surround him and finish him off. Right. So, we need to gather some sticks
and sort of lash them together to fashion some sort of rifle!
E: I wonder what the Pygmies do?
R: They wander around saying, 'Crikey, isn't everything big?'
E: It's no wonder they died out then, is it?
R: Huh-huh-huh.
E: Hang on, I've got my darts. And we can use this (picks up tent pole) as a
blow-pipe.
R: Oh yes. Oh Eddie yes. Darts and a blow-pipe--very rainforest. God, I wish
Sting was here to see this.
E: Right, here we go.
R: Oh Eddie Eddie, hang on. Now listen, if we're going to do this really
really properly, we're gonna have to have some proper Amazon Indian names
for ourselves.
E: Come on before he goes off to meet Orinoco.
R: Shut up, Eddie, shut up. This is important. Right, now it's got to be
sort of eagley, with a dash of running dog and not forgetting a hint of
being a tower of attraction to women.
E: Mmmm--what about Neville?
R: That's brilliant! Running Neville--no, no, Sitting Neville. No,
nooooo--Squatting Neville.
E: Come on, he's getting away.
R: Don't hustle me-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-alright, I don't like it, but
we'll have to go with Pocahontos.
E: Alright, Hogateepontas, entice him out.
R: Hey, don't forget to make the noise.
(Both run at the thicket, making the 'Indian noise,' then stop
simultaneously)
R: Oh, he's buggered off.
E: Oh look! There he is, by the tree!
R: Right! Let's go! Ooo, hey Eddie: do you think we should do this in our
underpants? It would be great, it would be really Indiany. We could get
some hankies and put them down the front and the back like flaps,
and--stupid idear, isn't it? We haven't got any hankies. No, hang on--we
could use some pages from the Evening Standard! They're even bigger! We get
a big flap down the front, and a big flap down the back, we'll get our
biros out and we'll doodle on our nipples. Take the point, then it's a bit
chilly, isn't it? Right then, let's hunt. Huh! (in a sweet voice) Mrs.
Tiggewinkle...Mrs. Tiggewinkle. It's not working. Mr. Tiggiewinkle...yum,
yum (throws hob-nob into the bush) Right, Eddie, he's broken cover. Let 'im
have it.
(Eddie puts blowpipe to mouth and blows. We hear a "thump" as if it went
into something soft)
E: Did I get him?
R: No you missed.
E: Damn!
R: Eddie me old chum...
E: Yes me old mate?
R: Do us a favor and pull this dart out of the back of my head, would you?
(We now see the dart has lodged in Richie's head).
E: Right me ol' mucker. Blimey, how'd that get in there?
R: I've no idea. Hurry along now, I'm losing me eyesight.
(The dart comes out with a pop, as Richie falls face first into the camp
fire. Richie's face is singed and he rushes, yelling, towards the pond.
Dunks head in)
E: Richie
R: (Gurgle)
E: You've put the fire out now.
R: Eddie! There's a fish in there.(Eddie aims with blowpipe) There he is!
Let him have it! (Eddie blows again)
E: Go and get him Richie.
R: No I think I'll just hang around here on the shore if it's all the same
with you."
E: Come on, he's only a fish.
R: Yes, I realize that, but unfortunately my hand is now attached to this
boulder. (Lifts hand to reveal dart and boulder. Eddie pulls dart out of
hand. Boulder falls on Richie's foot-Richie yells in pain.)
R: Right. Give me the blowpipe.
E: Yep, I'm very sorry Richie.
R: Give me the dart.
E: Here you go.
R: Right. Go and stand over there.
E: Fair enough.
(Richie loads the dart in the blowpipe and proceeds to suck in the dart).
R: ARRRGGGHHH! (muffled) Scthlap me!
E: I beg your pardon?
R: SCTHLAP--ME!
E: Oh! I like this game...(E slaps R in the face) Hey, you've got a dart
in there, did you know that? You-have got a dart-in there!
R: Geth ith out!
E: I be-I beg your pardon." (Eddie closes his coat)
R: Geth ith out!
E: Kinky!
R: THE DTHARTH!
E: Oh. (Eddie picks up mallet and hits Richie on the head. Dart ricochets to
finally land in Richie's posterior.)
R: OOOOWWWWW! (Richie picks out dart and throws it away) I don't think we're
really cut out for this dart business, do you?
E: The only thing that's had anything to eat around here is the bloody
hedgehog. There's only one hob-nob left--that's 27 hob-nobs he's had! It's
no wonder he shits like a Great Dane.
R: Hey, Eddie, why don't we have a go at that fish?
E: But we haven't got a fishing rod.
R: Ugh. Hey, why don't we use your vest as a net?
E: Would I have to be in it?
R: Come on, give us the vest. (Eddie rips off vest without getting
undressed) Hah! Right! Get the stove nice and hot. Stand back Moby, here I
come! (Richie flings vest in the pond. Meanwhile Eddie starts the fire
using propane gas thingamagig)
E: Have you caught anything yet?
R: (Lifting up condom) Yes, I think I very probably have caught something,
Eddie. It's quite a love nest around here, you know.
(Richie continues to forage, this time stepping into the pond. We can hear
the fuel leaking as Eddie searches for matches)
R: Oh! Great! Eddie, I've landed one! She is a beauty! (Richie holds up
a very small fish, speared with the dart)
E: Nice one, Richie.
R: Look at 'er. _Look at 'er_. She must be THAT big! (Richie holds arms
wide) Quite the little battle there--yeah! I'm a-I'm afraid we lost the
vest in the battle.
E: (pause) You mean my vest is in the pond...
R: Yes. Is the stove lit yet?
E: Half.
R: Half?
E: Yeah, you haven't seen the matches anywhere, have you?
R: Noooo--you could try rubbing sticks together....
E: Mmmmm. It's a tad more urgent than that.
R: Oh alright. Alright, you can use my Briquet (NOTE: French for "lighter").
But don't keep your finger down for longer than a second. (Eddie lights the
fire, which shoots eight feet in the air)
E: Stove's lit.
R: Nice one. Right! Let's get Moby under the grill! I'm famished! (Richie
puts Moby on a stick, and holds in fire. Moby catches fire. Richie waves it
around trying to put it out. Finally he stomps on it)
E: Is it done, then?
R: I think so. They don't take long, do they?
E: What, and we just eat it straight off the ground, do we? Is that
safe?
R: Oh Eddie, you and your hygiene. We're in the countryside here, we've got
everything we need. We'll wash it in the lake--lovely fresh mountain
stream, it'll be *lovely*. (Looks down at fish) Yeah, well you pick it up,
it's a bit near the dogshit for me. (Eddie 'washes' the fish)
E: Ooops! Lost a bit. Which end's the head, do you think?
R: Oh come here, give it to country boy, I'll divide it up. Uhh, well, it's
bound to be one or the other, isn't it? Uhhh--heads or tails? No, we can't
do that can we? Alright, I'll have the black bit, you have the flakey bit.
Good health! (Richie pops it into his mouth) That was--disgusting! You're
not eating yours, Eddie?
E: No, I'm keeping it.
R: What for?
E: Evidence. (Takes out plastic baggie and puts remains of fish in it)
R: Come on Eddie, you've got to get some nutrition.
E: I'm alright, mate. I've got half a bottle of scotch here, I know who's
side I'm on.
R: Yeeessss---Let's get boozy and sit around the campfire singing dirty
rugby songs.
E: Yeah! Right, here we go. (Fire finally runs out of fuel as they sit down)
Oh well! First shot to me. (Eddie drinks the rest in one long gulp) There
you go.
R: Alright! (Richie puts empty bottle to his mouth) Ohhhwowowow! I'm going
crazy! Okay, dirty rugby songs, here we go! Twinkle, twinkle, little--oh,
that's not really dirty, is it? Eddie? (Eddie has collapsed) Oh, Eddie,
don't pass out already! You'll miss out on all the fun.
E: What fun?
R: Yes, I suppose that's a point. When you come to think of it, nothing ever
really happens in the country, does it? (Just then a flasher comes by and
flashes them) You wonder why they do it, really, don't you? I mean, with
something as small as that...mine's bigger than that and mine's *tiny*.
Ish. Tinyish. Oh well. (Stands up) Time for bed.
E: What do you mean, it's only half past five?!
R: We're in the country now, and you know what they say: 'A cuckoo in May,
oora-oora-ay!'
SCENE ENDS SIGNALED BY JAZZ MUSIC.
NEW SCENE: Night, with a full moon. Eddie and Richie are squeezed next to
each other in the tent. The sign that says 'DOGS TOILET' is within the
confines of the tent.
R: Well. Here we are Edward. You sure you didn't sneak a quick peek at
my underpants when I was getting into my sleeping bag?
E: Absolutely Richie. I give you my word of honor, I did not catch even the
slightest glimpse of your gaudily stained love-blob containers.
R: Right. Good. Well. Nighty-night, then...What do you normally do when you
got to bed, Eddie?
E: I normally have a bit of a kip.
R: You're so concise. I mean, what's your going-to-bed routine?
E: Oh, routine. Well, I normally get into bed, and then I have a bit of
a kip.
R: Wonder what's on telly right now. Probably missing Emmerdale Farm. Mat'll
probably have his arm up some cow's backside by now. Lucky bugger.
E: We'll miss The Late Show of course. Gaw, that bird in the red specs...
(makes puffing sound)
R: Eddie, are you carrying a torch for her?
E: (Looks down at trousers) No, it's just the way my trousers ruck up.
R: Oh. (Notices Eddie has started reading something) What are you reading,
Eddie?
E: I don't know, I'm too drunk to focus.
R: (sigh) Bored now...you ever been hang-gliding?
E: Nope.
R: No, nor me. Well that's exhausted that one, then. Huh. I can't think
of anything else to talk about you know.
E: WELL NIGHT-NIGHT THEN!
R: Yes, I suppose so. Night-night. Sleep tight.
Hope-the-bed-bugs-do-not-bite.
If they do, do a poo, put it in a Cornish stew.
Into the ambulance, dring, dring, dring,
Fish trousers elephant in Peking.
Saw a busy bee, tiddle-diddle-dee,
Daddy's an accountant just like me.
Night-night, God bless. (Immediately shuts eyes and goes to sleep)
I'm still not sleepy you know...You know, I think it's the sleeping bag.
It's letting in a draft.
E: Oh my heart bleeds.
R: Come on Eddie. I'm more sensitive than you are. Do us a favor, old pal.
Grab a hold of my drawstring and give it a bloody good yank.
E: I beg your pardon?
R: No, here.
E: Oh. (Eddie yanks string so that it's very tight around Richie's neck)
R: Okay, fine, fine! Good. Right. Night-night, then. (Leans over to kiss
Eddie, suddenly realizes it's inappropriate) No, no, no! Put the light out
Eddie, would you? (Eddie starts to snore) Oh, God, I can't get out. I'll
have to do it meself. (Tries to blow out the lamp. Inches closer while
blowing. Next shot is of Richie burning his face) OOOooooo--oh, God, who'd
be me? Night-night, world.
(Storm starts with clap of thunder and lightning. Rain pours down. The
exaggerated hoot of an own is heard.)
R: Eddie, Eddie! There's someone outside, doing owl impressions. (Owl hoots
again) Not very good ones, either. (Eddie wakes up and starts thrashing
around. Richie hits him repeatedly with a cooking pot held in his mouth)
E: What are you doing that for? I was having a dream.
R: I know--it sounded harrowing.
E: No! I was in bed with Kim Basinger. It was fantastic. Let's get back
to sleep very quickly. (Both shut their eyes)
E: WHERE THE BLOODY HELL AM I?!
R: No Eddie, calm down, you're in a tent--you're in a tent. Listen, Eddie, I
think there's something outside.
E: Yeah, well, there's bound to be something outside, Richie. You can't
expect the universe and its entire contents to be contained within the
confines of a small canvass tent.
R: You're very philosophical for this time of night, Eddie.
E: Yeah, well I've had half a bottle of Scotch, what do you expect?
R: No, listen! (Owl noises again) No, Eddie, I'm serious. I'm getting a
sense of something magnificently evil, black, and foul hanging in the air
waiting to destroy us.
E: Yeah, that would be the fish repeating on you. (Owl hoots)
R: There it is again...what do you think it is? A wolf? A bear?
E: WOMBLES!!
R: WOMBLES! Oh, oh, look Eddie, Eddie, why don't we bring the fire inside
the tent to ward them off?
E: Well that'd be a bit dangerous, wouldn't it?
R: No, it's gone out.
E: Well what's the point then?
R: Oh--oh yes, silly me!
E: Heyayayayayaya--why don't we light a small fire inside the tent?
R: Alright, just a small one.
E: Oh, you know me. A tiny little bitsy teeny one.
R: Good ole Eddie.
E: Now, where's the paraffin? Here we go. (Eddie starts to drink it)
R: No! No, Eddie, don't drink it, we need that!
E: Stand well back.
R: What do you mean, 'stand well back?' I can't get out of this bloody
sleeping bag, can I?
E: Here we go.
R: No--Eddie, change of plan! (Exterior shot of tent. Fire bursts out both
sides of the tent)
R: (inside the tent, both their faces are burned) Nice one, Eddie. That
should ward them off. (Shadow appears outside the tent) Oh! Eddie! Look!
Help me get out of this sleeping bag!
E: There's no time! (Eddie zips down the tent entrance. Zipper is raised
slowly from the other side. Our friend, the crazy flasher, sticks his love
spuds in the tent, laughing hysterically. Eddie and Richie scream. Alot.
Eddie zips down the tent. Flasher runs off screaming, and taking the tent
with him.)
E: (Understated) Right, well. That's about it for me. I'm off. (Richie tries
to inch after him like a worm in his sleeping bag)
E: What are you not coming?
R: Well I can't, I can't move, can I?
E: Well that's a point. (Eddie picks up mallet used earlier)
R: Eddie, no!
I'll let the reader guess what happens next. :)
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