Bad Sugar Page #4

She makes me dress like a monkey

and keeps me in a cupboard.

And she makes me wear

a paper Christmas hat

when it's not even Christmas.

And she makes me have sex

with her, sir.

And when she does it, we...

we laugh about how

she doesn't really like you.

Simon?

Miss Joan. Goodbye, Miss Joan.

Where are you going, Simon?

Are you going to the pub for a pint?

That sounds jolly.

Would you like company?

I could put a dress on and come

with you, and I could stand outside

if I was going to be an

embarrassment, which I probably am.

No, Miss Joan, you're not an

embarrassment, you're a nice one,

but old Simon is going for good.

What?

I have to leave the family

employment. I'm never coming back.

But no!

Simon, we all love you,

we just... love you, every one of us.

Yes, but it turns out

I've been betraying your trust

and having it away with Maria,

so I must go.

This isn't part of...?

Did Daphne make you say this?

You've made love to her - Maria?

Yes.

Goodness. Was it funny?

Er...

Because of all the plastic surgery?

Daphne told me that Maria's front

bottom is now by her tummy button,

and her tummy button's been

stitched up with a bit of bum

to make a brand new booby.

I wouldn't know about that.

Why not?

Yes.

What?

I must go!

No, Simon, don't go.

I don't believe it, it's all a mess.

Why don't you stay in my room?

Secretly.

And we can sort it all out.

In the meantime,

you could stay under my bed

or in my bed if you got cold.

It is quite cold.

No, Miss Joan.

Or you could live in my wardrobe

and I could feed you like a rabbit.

And if you needed a wee,

I could put it into a bottle

and you could wee in there.

That's very kind, Miss Joan,

but... it's a silly dream.

I must be off now to London,

to find a job as a man

who will do anything for money.

And I need to make an early start.

Oh, Daphne, how brilliant of you!

A bonfire, and it's not even

Bonfire Night! It's so exciting!

And what a lovely way to celebrate

Maria leaving as well.

Exactly.

Bye, Maria!

Oh, look here, Lucy, we've got you

a welcome-to-the-family gift.

Oh, a baseball. And the glove thing.

How wonderful.

- Do you like baseball?

- Of course she does. Who doesn't?

Why don't you try it on,

or don't you like it?

Oh, no, look. Oh, it fits perfectly.

If I liked baseball

this would be perfect.

Let's play catch

whilst the marshmallows toast.

Joan.

Oh, look at us - the three sisters

and an old ball. What fun!

Isn't this the most fun

you can have?

Oh, yes,

well, without a wrap of coke

and a couple of Polish deckhands,

I suppose it is, Joan.

Oh, and thank you for your help

with poor Joan and her recital.

It's just so wonderful to have your

lovely oar stuck into everything.

Oh.

Oh, sorry, Joan.

It's OK, it's only nettles.

Ow! Ow! Ooh!

I thought you could have these

with your onion.

Leave it, Joan,

Lucy's found another ball!

Coming! You better get back inside

your hutch soon.

You mean under my sheeting.

Exactly.

I'll feed you again in the morning.

Here, Lucy!

Oh!

Joan!

Oh, good throw!

Oh, God!

My hands! My hands!

Oh, my God.

This boules ball... it's red hot.

Why would you throw a red-hot

boules ball at my sister?!

I didn't know

the boules ball was hot!

Of course you didn't. How could you?

Your hands were protected

by your lovely new baseball mitt.

Oh, Daphne, my hands,

they hurt so much!

Oh, it's just a nasty trick, dear.

It's probably what they think of

as a joke where she comes from.

I didn't know!

Just goes to show, you should never

catch things without checking

how hot they are first. And you can't

trust anyone outside the family.

Really was quite cruel of you

to give her false hope.

I know how that boules ball got

so overheated.

Well, boules balls can't speak,

so suck it up, sweetheart.

That was magnificent.

That you played on through the pain,

remarkable.

The screams of your pain were,

to my ears, sweeter than any music.

Thank you, Daddy.

And now I have an announcement

to make regarding my will.

Things have come to my attention

in the last few days that mean

Simon and Maria have left

this house, never to return.

Oh.

Like a fool, I had weakened

and was thinking of leaving

some worthless trinkets to Maria.

Shunt my fudge.

It's made me realise how much

unhappiness wealth can bring,

and so I have decided the greatest

gift I can leave you all is...

Nothing.

What?

I understand. Thank you, Daddy.

Rolph?

Haven't you got a view, Rolph?

Interesting.

I like it.

Could work.

I'm giving it all

to Imperial College London,

so that my remains may be frozen and

work may continue on technologies

until such time as I may be

reanimated as a walking person

or else as a brain

in the temporary body

of a sort of metal crab.

That's just my initial idea,

you understand.

I'm going nowhere, folks,

and you're not coming with me.

Tremendous work, Ralphfred.

Congratulations.

I just wanted to say

a few words of my own.

Thank you all so much, to everyone,

for your incredible welcome.

And I thought that...

well, Rolph's had his wedding

and Joan and Neil their birthdays,

and I didn't want Daphne

to feel left out so...

I found this wonderfully evocative

portrait of her on the internet,

taken just after she'd left Harvard,

and had it framed for you all

to enjoy.

That's lovely!

Happy... Daphne Day!

Tell Ralphfred Cauldwell

his American wife and kids are here

and we are sick of being chewed up

like yesterday's toilet paper.

And we love him very much

and if we don't get $1 million

by the end of the month,

we will destroy him.

And we've got a CD of us

singing the whole of U2 for him.

Kind of scratched but... works.

Daphne, why is Father Rodrigo

so hairy?

Because Rodrigo isn't Rodrigo.

He's your dead brother Neil.

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