Guest House Paradiso Page #3

So, as we always say|at the Guest House Paradiso,

have fun, avoid the water|and don't get sh*t on the sheets.

Hmm.

(Rusty squeaking)

It's horrible here.

Welcome to the real world, kid.

Oh! Ha ha ha!

Oh!

I really must have some more sherry.

Eh...oh...

Here you are, kid.|Have a swig of this.

lt helps keep things blurred.

(Scream)

Oh, damn.

(Key turns in lock)

(Woman) Shame about the weather.

(Man) Shame about the hotel.

(Woman) Never mind.|Happy anniversary, darling.

(Richie) Oh, no! No!

Damn! Damn! Damn!

It's Mr Twat, you're going to have|to vacate your room for a moment.

- (Woman) Hello?|- Excuse me.

(Foreign accent) Hello?

Hello?

Hello, man behind the counter.

Ah, there you are.

Mr Twat?

- No.|- Do you know where he is?

He could be anywhere. He's the only|one who does a f***ing thing!

I'm suprprised he hasn't had|a nervous breakdown!

Pardon?

Uh...the bar.

He is in the...bar.

Right.

But...there's no one there.

Oh, God. Oh, God!

God! Oh, God! Oh, fu...

Everything's gone completely numb.

You lucky bastard.

Good morning,|I'm looking for Mr Twat.

Er...

Have you tried reception?

Yes, but he isn't there. The strange|midget said he was in the lounge.

Well, I'm sure if we wait here|he'll turn up.

Charming part of the country.

(Board creaks, then gas hisses)

Does it rain a lot around here?

More or less continuously, yes.

Oh.

Oh, well.

(Click)

Good for the flowers, I suppose.

Still quite warm, though.

Look, something tells me|I can trust you.

You see, the thing is...

(Board creaks, then gas hisses)

The thing is...

I am Gina Carbonara.

Gina Carbonara,

the famous ltalian film star|and love object.

Cor, blimey, wait till Richie|hears about this!

The truth is, I've had a little|bother lately with...

one thing and another,

and I'm looking for a hotel that's|quiet, discreet and out of the way,

where the paparazzi won't find me.

I wouldn't know where to recommend.

I was thinking of here.

Oh.

Oh!

This seems the perfect spot.|You're not in any of the guidebooks.

Nobody for miles around -|an oasis of calm.

Even the peasants in the village|denied its existence.

Oh, yes, this is the place.

A perfect little refuge|from the world.

Right, well, we'd better...|check you in, then.

So if you're not the manager,|who are you?

I'm Eddie the bellboy.

The bellboy?

That's right.

(Bell dongs)

(Giggles)

(High pitched giggle)

And...here's your key.

It's room five, first floor,|end of the corridor.

I'll bring your luggage up directly.

Mice.

Basque Separatist mice.

I was...just...cleaning the oven|in my Ralph Lauren rubber shorts

and...and...and...|never mind about that now!

I can't believe it!|Gina Carbonara staying here!

Gina Carbonara!|The Melons from Milan!

Yeah, the Nipples from Naples!

The Rump from Rome!

The Rectum from Reykjavik!

- That's not right, is it?|- I don't know. She gets around.

Eddie, assemble all the staff!

- Here I am.|- Good.

ls this it? Where's Lardy Basto?

- Chef left this morning, remember?|- Damn, so he did!

So it's just us, then.|Very well, then.

Alone.

God, what are we gonna do?!

Calm! Down! Richie!|It's only Gina Carbonara!

I know! I'm already straining|these rubber underpants to the limit!

We'll soon have you out.

Unh!

(Air hissing and rubber stretching)

What about dinner?

She'll be expecting top-rate,|poncey, French-style A1 nosh!

I don't believe it! That Romanian|bastard! He's eaten ALL the food!

Oh!

Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! OH, GOD!

Why do these things happen to me?

I thought this would be it,

I was gonna get a blue plaque made|saying "Gina Carbonara stayed here."

Now you'lI need|a slightly bigger one,

saying "Gina Carbonara stayed here|and thought it was sh*t."

- ls this gonna work?|- ls the Pope Catholic?

Yes, he is.

ls he? Huh! I never knew that.

Right.

Yep, that should do it.

What's the next part|of the operation?

I puncture the pants with this kebab|skewer on the end of a broom handle.

The sudden release of pressure causes|the pants to gradually disintegrate.

- If you say so.|- Brace yourself.

And here it comes!

(Boy) It's so boring here!

(Dad) Well, what about I-Spy?|(Boy) No.

(Dad) Let's play|Charlene's favourite game.

(Charlene) Yeah!|(Boy) All right.

(Door opens)

OK, here we go,|hope you're all hiding.

One...

two...three...

four...five...

six...seven...

eight...nine...

Ten! Coming, ready or not!

- Oh, you've grown.|- What?

- Oh, I see!|- Mr Twat?

It's "Thwaite!" No, no, I'm not him,|I'm his deranged half-brother!

Hur hur hur hee!

(Strangled moans)

(Crashing and banging)

And stay there! Never enter|the public areas of the hotel!

Oh, I'm so sorry. I was talking|to my demented half-brother.

- ls he all right?|- No, he's mad.

But don't worry, it's terminal!

Now, allow me to show you around.

Oh, my, you have a pert elbow.

You must be Gina Carbonara.

Yes, and you must be Mr Thwaite.

It's "Twat." Damn...

I'm sorry, please,|forgive me, Mr Twat.

Yes.

I have a problem,|could you come into my room?

- No...|- You won't?

No, no, I WON'T have a problem.

- I'm not being too forward?|- No, I like them sticking out.

Now, what seems to be the problem?

Electrics? Plumbing? The...stench?

Although, by the way,|should you have a personal problem

I am in fact|a qualified gynaecologist.

Well, strictly speaking|I'm an amateur - but I'm bloody keen.

Keen as mustard.

- I'm having trouble with my zip.|- Your zip?

Could you undo it?

(Mumbles)

Pardon?

(Mumbles)

No, I still don't understand.

(Quivering) You want me|to undo your zip?

Oh, yes. Would you?

(Quivering) Well,|I'lI have a bloody good go.

Thank you.

You see it is just stuck here.

You don't mind|that I do not wear a brassiere?

Uh, no.

This is such a charming hotel,|unlike anywhere else I've ever been.

I feel I could stay here forever.

(Zip)

You're such a sweet man.

Love is such a fickle thing,|don't you think?

What? Oh, love.

Oh, yes, love.

Oh, lumme! Love!

H-how very well put.

How very amusing. Ha ha ha ha...

How soi-disant... Ah! Uh!

Yes, it's such...

Oh...he's gone.

Ooh, it's cold in here.

Arrrgh!

(Horn honks)

Eddie!

Aaaarrgh! AAAAARRRGH!

Bloody road protesters!

Save the B157!

Marvellous, Eddie!|Look! Fish for supper!

We're saved! Ha ha ha!

(Whistling happily)

Have you had enough time|to read the menu, Mrs Foxfur?

Well, I think I'lI have the fish.

Oh, good. Wise choice.

So everyone's having fish, then.|Excellent.

I don't like this fish.

You'll eat it.

You're a minor, you have no rights|and I'll happily call the police!

For what the Lord has provided|let us be truly F-ing thankful.

And the same goes for you!

- Enjoying your meal?|- Yes.

We've got royalty coming downstairs|in a minute so f***ing behave!

Who are you?

- We're Mr...|- And Mrs.

(Both, giggling) Barker.

The honeymoon couple?|Have you been in bed all day?

Well, we're newlyweds.

Good grief! What can I get you?

Vitamins? Energy tablets? Fanny pump?

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