Bottom Live: The Big Number 2 Tour Page #9

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RICHIE:

Ooh. Got a little round of applause for your collection.

EDDIE:

I know, i shall have a good wank about that later.

RICHIE:

Right, so… so… (To audience) Shut the f*** up! Right, so, here i am in the witness box, right? Spiky, spiky, spiky, huge dangly knob, everything’s great, ok?

EDDIE:

You going to get a stand in for that bit, are you?

(Richie spits with laughter.)

EDDIE:

Normally, of course, they’d just have a body double, but in your case, it’d probably have to be a body treble, wouldn’t it?

RICHIE:

Right, so, here i am, in the witness box, ok?

EDDIE:

Right you are.

RICHIE:

So “what’s the f***ing evidence?”

EDDIE:

“You f***ing did it.”

RICHIE:

“Yeah, but who’s going to f***ing testify to that?”

EDDIE:

“Well, f***ing me, for a f***ing start.”

RICHIE:

Well, we’re f***ed then, aren’t we?

EDDIE:

Yeah.

(Richie plonks himself back on his seat, while Eddie leans against the top bunk.)

RICHIE:

Oh, languish, languish. Languish, languish, langu-ish. Oh, Eddie, what shall we do to pass the time?

AUDIENCE MEMBER:

Have a wank!

(Richie rolls his eyes, with an “of course” look on his face. Ignoring this, after the audience has finished clapping, Richie tries to continue the scene.)

RICHIE:

Hey, Eddie, i know.

EDDIE:

NO!

RICHIE:

Oh all right. Sorry.

(Richie mimics the rowdy audience member, making the wanking gesture with every impression.)

RICHIE:

“HAVE A WANK, NERRRRRRR!” Welcome to ‘sophisticated Oxford’.

EDDIE:

Yeah.

RICHIE:

“HAVE A WANK, PROFESSOR!”

(Richie mimics something else in the same voice.)

RICHIE:

“MAY AS WELL, THE ONLY OTHER THING TO DO IS CATCH A F***ING BUS!”

(The audience claps, and Richie flicks another set of V’s at the audience.)

EDDIE:

You finished now? It’s just i’m beginning to understand why Steven Fry f***ed off.

(Richie laughs. The Audience claps again. Richie holds out his hand to Eddie in congratulations for his superb joke, then gets down on his knees, and bows in prayer to him.)

RICHIE:

Oh, come on, lets get on with the drama.

EDDIE:

Yes.

RICHIE:

Best to lead the wank. Hey, Eddie, i know what we’ll do to pass the time.

EDDIE:

Yeah?

RICHIE:

What about snap?

EDDIE:

If you insist.

RICHIE:

Great.

(Eddie snaps Richies arm over his leg. It goes limp, and Richie groans in pain. But his face lights up, and he brings his hand close to his crotch, with his arm still swinging limply. It looks like he’s masturbating.)

RICHIE:

Hey, professor!

(Richie continues the plot.)

RICHIE:

Wasn’t exactly what i had in mind, Eddie.

EDDIE:

Well, what you have in your mind, Richie, should be sealed in concrete and dumped in the North Sea.

RICHIE:

Oh, come on, Eddie…

(Richie’s limp hand seems to have come back to life. He signals it, gasping happily.)

RICHIE:

...Come on! We can’t just languish here like this. Let’s bust out of here.

EDDIE:

Yeah?

RICHIE:

Come on, what did they used to do in Colditz

EDDIE:

They sort of wandered about wearing false mustaches and acting very badly.

RICHIE:

No, no, I meant the real place.

EDDIE:

Ah.

RICHIE:

I’ve got it. You’ve got to build a glider.

EDDIE:

Right?

RICHIE:

I’ll get them to give me a wooden horse.

EDDIE:

Yeah?

RICHIE:

And then we can really get down to wandering about the place, pouring sand out the bottom of our trousers.

EDDIE:

Right.

RICHIE:

Right, you’d better call me ginger.

EDDIE:

Ginger. Right.

RICHIE:

Ooh, that reminds me, better get some dye for my pubes. Oh no, brain attack! What if we ate the furniture and passes us off as laundry vans?

EDDIE:

We might get off with insanity.

RICHIE:

Who’s she? Is she on? Oh, oh right. OK, Eddie.

EDDIE:

Yeah?

RICHIE:

You eat the bunk bed…

EDDIE:

Right?

RICHIE:

...I’ll have a nibble at the door knob.

EDDIE:

Right you are.

(Richie and Eddie start to eat their respective things. But then…)

RICHIE:

Ooh, no, wait, wait, Eddie, wait.

EDDIE:

Yeah? What?

RICHIE:

Hang on, this thought.

EDDIE:

Yes?

RICHIE:

It’s phenomenally bad.

EDDIE:

Well spotted!

RICHIE:

Hey, they don’t call me Slippery Richie, The Hammersmith Houdini for nothing.

EDDIE:

No, they simply call you “The C*nt!”

RICHIE:

Yes they do, don’t they? Why do they do that? It’s a wonderful sense of irony some of my better friends have, i really must write down some of their better witticisms sometime.

EDDIE:

Well, it shouldn’t take long to write down “Sad Wanker” a couple of times.

RICHIE:

I’m not sad, Eddie, i’m moody. Look.

(Richie pulls a face.)

RICHIE:

But you’ve got me on the wanking. Red handed.

EDDIE:

Red handed?

RICHIE:

Yeah, it’s the friction.

EDDIE:

Oh.

RICHIE:

Look at those blisters, look at those blisters. You could slalom round them. Hey, Eddie, that’s a point.

(Richie pulls his trousers up high. Then holds his crotch in pain.)

RICHIE:

Ow.

(Richie walks over to Eddie.)

RICHIE:

There’s nobody here.

EDDIE:

Yeah?

RICHIE:

We’re all alone.

EDDIE:

Ah.

RICHIE:

How do you fancy a bit of… TUNNELING OUT?

(Eddie looks alarmed. Then rushes to the door.)

EDDIE:

HELP! HELP! GET ME OUT OF HERE! GUARD! I WANT A SCREW! I DEMAND A SCREW IMMEDIATELY!

(There’s a sudden tapping noise.)

RICHIE:

Shh. What’s that?

EDDIE:

That’s you

RICHIE:

No, no, what’s that?

(Richie wags his finger as if to indicate something.)

EDDIE:

That’s your finger.

RICHIE:

What’s that sound!?

EDDIE:

That’s you whispering.

(Richie hangs his head in frustration.)

RICHIE:

You Twat! You Twat! You Twat! You Twat! You Twat!

EDDIE:

That’s you getting cross.

RICHIE:

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

EDDIE:

Yeah, i was right.

RICHIE:

Right, that’s it!

(Richie gets ready to whack Eddie, when the tapping noise starts up again.)

EDDIE:

Oh, hang on, Rich. I can hear something tapping.

RICHIE:

That’s what i mean. Come on, Eddie, you can read morse code. What does it say?

EDDIE:

Hang on.

(Eddie taps on the radiator in response. The tapping noise responds.)

RICHIE:

Well, what does he say?

EDDIE:

He says… “Tappy tappy tap, tap tap tappy, tappy tap tap, tap tap tappy tap, tap tap tappy tappy tap, tap tap, tap tap, tappy tap, tap tap, tappy tappy tap.”

RICHIE:

F***ing hell, it’s Fred Astaire. Fred Astaire in the cell next to us. Hey Eddie, you know why they call Ginger Rogers “Ginger Rogers” don’t you?

EDDIE:

Yeah, because that was her name.

RICHIE:

Yeah, that was her na…

(Richie starts thrusting his pelvis, before his face falls in disappointment.)

RICHIE:

Oh, I thought the conversation was going to go all saucy then.

EDDIE:

Yeah, me too.

RICHIE:

Went wrong somehow. Oh well, hey ho, bash on.

EDDIE:

Right.

RICHIE:

Ask Fred if he’s got any semtex.

EDDIE:

Right you are.

(Eddie taps a bit more enthusiastically, and dances to the beat of his own making. “Fred” responds in tapping again.)

RICHIE:

Well, what does he say?

EDDIE:

He says… “Stop f***ing tapping!”

RICHIE:

CHARMING!

(Richie nicks the tapper out of Eddie’s hand, and angrily bashes the radiator.)

RICHIE:

YOUR FILMS WERE CRAP TOO, FRED!

(Richie throws down the tapper.)

RICHIE:

I tell you what, if i knew morse code, he’d be getting a piece of my mind.

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