Hideous Kinky

'It's cos I flooded the bathroom and

the ceiling fell in and the cats ran off.

'That's when she started talking

about Morocco and the Sufis.

'Mum says, "A Sufi doesn't ask who a Sufi is."

'What the hell is a Sufi, anyway?'

MUM-MY!

Mummy!

Lucy!

Mum!

LUCY!

Mummy!

Mummy!

MUMMY!

Oh!

Lucy!

Mum? Is it Christmas yet?

- No, darling. Not till morning.

- Is it morning yet?

OK, come on.

- Lucy?

Mum? Toothbrush!

Hi! Hello, darling!

Hello!

- Merry Christmas!

- No, darling! Not in Morocco, it isn't.

Every week, a new set of men.

Prostitutes.

Do you think so? Where did you learn that?!

It's arrived.

What's this?

Paper hats! How useful! One for you.

And one for you.

King's Road!

Made in Morocco?

Another joke?

- Italian truffles?

Urgh! How gross.

Oh, well, at least they're edible.

- Two tickets to the Royal Albert Hall on January 1st?

- January 1st?

Mum?

- What do you think?

- Too big.

- Mum, it's the wrong parcel.

- No, it's addressed! It's definitely for us.

- It's the bloody Mandy and that boy. - Mum, where's

our presents? - Kensington, if theirs are here!

"My darlings Mandy and Lionel..."

Darlings! Lionel! Oh, your bloody father!

- Merry Christmas, Mum.

- Merry Christmas, Mum.

Thank you.

- What's the point, Mum? - Everyone

has to work. - But nobody wants dolls.

- Mum, can we have rice pudding?

- When your father's cheque comes.

- Sure, Father Christmas. - Don't we

want to go home, Mum? - London's cold.

Cold and sad.

- No camel. No Abdul the jellybean.

- No scorpions. - Can't we go home?

No, Lucy, not yet. Not by a long way.

- Eat your truffle paste, darling. -

It tastes like mud. - It's a delicacy.

- Bea, when you grow up, do you want to be a shepherd?

- I don't think so.

What then?

I'd like to be normal. Go on

- "Once upon a time..."

Once upon a time, there was

a big house, all alone in a desert.

It had 100 rooms.

They were all empty.

No-one had lived there for lifetimes.

But in the last room, where it was all dark,

lived a spooky carpet.

Years and years passed

and the carpet lived on the floor.

It was lonely and grumpy and no-one came

- only ants and a few birds.

And scorpions lived under it!

And then?

- Then?

- Someone died.

Dolls. Interested? Not interested?

Dolls?

- Mum, look!

- What, Lucy?

- Careful! What?

- Look!

This is my mum.

Hello.

- Bilal al Hamal.

- Julia. Um...

- Sorry, I'm learning. - Is

this your daughter? - Yes.

Thank you.

- Are you on holiday?

- No, we live here.

Hey!

Kids' father's a poet, right?

- In London.

- That's cool. This is Frank.

From Frankfurt.

Hi!

- Hi.

- Frank brought 300 trips from Frankfurt, didn't he?

Right there in his backpack.

He laid 'em on an entire village.

Hippies, freaks,

Moroccans, man, woman and child.

LSD pure - 300 tabs. Man, woman...

- Julia!

- Eva, hi!

Hey, Eva.

Eva!

- How are you?

- Fine.

See you, lady.

This is what happens when you come

to Morocco for a good time -

- you get married and join the Sufis.

- This is wonderful.

This is what you were asking about.

The greatest living Sufi.

Sheikh Ben Jalil.

- Did he give it to you?

- Yes, sort of.

- He must have tiny feet.

- The most elegant of old men.

A great teacher and a true saint.

- In a school?

- Yes. The school of the annihilation of the ego.

To find the god within thee.

Will you show me what he taught you?

I'd love to know.

I'd be no good. You'll have to go yourself.

In fact, Julia, I think you must.

Are we going to Algeria, Mum,

to see the Sufi?

- I'd love to. Wouldn't you? We'll have to make some money first.

- Make money? That's all right then.

But what does all that mean?

It means, um, "I'm all right. I'm fine.

I'm OK, I'm OK."

The road is dark. Hidden danger.

Loss makes you careless. A wanderer.

A hanged man. The world turned upside down.

A sacrifice.

A sacrifice?

- Bea? Lucy?!

Mum?

Welcome to my house.

These are my brothers - all 40 of them.

Hideous kinky!

Hideous kinky!

Oh!

Are you pleased to see me?

Hello, darling! Where did you spring from?

Ouch!

They work you like animals.

It's not England, Julia.

Sit.

Their father. He is a bad man?

No!

- Not bad. Just kind of forgetful.

- So he's a hippy?

Not exactly.

He's a writer and a poet.

- He's quite famous.

- But you left him.

Rather than share him, yes, I did.

- He has other wives?

- Not wives, exactly.

I need things for myself, Bilal,

and I need things for them.

Things?

Things. A different life

- different from before.

Lucy's made up a song.

Do you want to hear it?

- Maybe tomorrow. - Or maybe

for money. - Oh, good. Very good.

But I know how to make money.

That is how we make money!

Look what we can do.

- Ow!

- Look what she can do.

- Whose is the best somersault?

- Mind, Bea! - OK!

Watch me, Bilal.

- Yes, but...

- Anyone could do that.

Stop!

- You ready?

- Yeah.

Ow! Ow! Ow!

- OK, I know I need to work on it a little bit.

- Yeah.

- Bilal? - What? - If you said

something, would it always be the truth?

What?! Yes, always.

- And if you promised to do something, would you always do it?

- Of course.

Bilal?

Are you my daddy now?

Bilal is going to sing us a song.

- Am I? - But in the English way.

- You have to go in the wardrobe.

- You can't stop till we tell you.

- Yeah, go on!

- Please! - Go on. - That

will be so nice. - OK.

- Please! I love songs.

- OK.

OK.

Go on! Thank you, Bilal.

OK, you can start now.

Look!

Mum!

Bea?

You haven't been making Lucy

promise things again, have you?

Like?

Like promising not to speak to her mummy?

You know...

Daughters are often embarrassed

by their mummies. I remember mine.

She put on lipstick on the bus!

Mum, Bea has to say something.

- I have to go to school.

- You don't have to do anything.

- No, I have to go to school.

- Well, you can then.

No, I can't. I need a satchel, a white shirt and

a white skirt, none of which I have, so you see?

- Tomorrow, we'll go to the bank. If your father's cheque has come...

- What if it hasn't?

- We'll go the next day. - If it still

hasn't? - We'll manage. - It won't arrive.

- No.

- It won't - he's forgotten about us!

Hasn't he?!

- Bea? Lucy?

- What?

- We've got a job. For a Berber poet. I'm a translator.

- Hooray!

We're gonna make money!

- Oh, this word's in Berber.

Oh, no. No. That is impossible

- not in English, not even in French.

Oh, go on. Try.

OK, it's like a... like a river? A great river?

- No, no, it's like a

boat. - Huh? - Two boats.

- Two homeless boats?

- Two homeless boats.

Two homeless boats!

- Mum, this one's still got bits in.

- Give it back.

- Bea! - Hi,

Lucy! - Hi, Bea!

So? How was your first day at school?

- Well, a little girl wet herself.

- And?

The teacher took her to the front

of the class and beat her...

and beat her with a cane

until she stopped crying.

Then she beat her again and the cane broke.

- My God! You can't go back there!

- Why not?

Of course I can.

Only joking!

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