Mr. Stink Page #4

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make-overs?

You need to look your best for

the Prime Minister.

This is fun!

There!

Perfect!

What about the Duchess?

Maybe it's a tiny bit too much.

CHANTING:
We want Stink!

We want Stink!

Mr Stink!

The Guardian. Do you find the name

Mr Stink demeaning and offensive?

The Sun. Is it true you have worms?

People of Britain.

Many of us, to quote the poet,

"Live lives of quiet desperation,

"and go to our graves

with the song still in us."

So try not to do that.

And to prevent it happening

to others, look around you

and be generous and kind,

although don't put people's clothes

in the washing machine

without their permission.

Now if you'll excuse me,

I have a Prime Minister to meet.

Good-day.

Oh, that stinks! Can we go

via the high street, please?

I thought we'd find them here.

Chloe, this is a very serious

moment. You have a choice.

You can shout something horrible

and vengeful at Pippa,

or you can be the bigger person

and reach out to her.

BOTH:
Losers!

Hello, mate. Good afternoon,

Prime Minister. Call me Steve.

A Croom in Downing Street! Finally!

Get your hands out

of your pockets, Chloe!

I could use you. Use me?

Yep, use you. I mean 'use'

in a good way.

It's not secret, my approval rating

is currently...

Very poor.

Quite poor, and... do you have to

play that while I'm talking?

No.

And I can't afford to lose

this by-election next week.

Well, Prime Minister,

I'm no politician,

but there is a great deal

I could help you with.

There's an urgent need for more

shelters for the homeless like me.

Yep yep yep...

Does it do any tricks?

My team have come up with

a campaign for you to spearhead.

You're going to love this -

Hug a Homeless!

Not for too long, eh? Ha-ha!

Let's go.

What?

We have to be getting back

to the real world.

But you're the funny old tramp.

This would be great for me!

Prime Minister?

Shoot.

You can stick your job offer

up your fat bum. Good-day.

You're fired.

Wet wipe. Wet wipe!

I can't believe you told me to say

that. I can't believe you said it!

You know who I am,

don't you, Miss Chloe?

Yeah. I saw some of your things

when I washed your coat.

I'm sorry...

Lord Darlington.

I Googled you.

I don't know what that is,

but it sounds painful.

A long time ago I had it all.

Money, fancy friends,

a house with more wings

than a bucket of KFG chicken.

KFC.

And a beautiful wife,

my childhood sweetheart, Agatha.

Shortly after that photograph

was taken she fell pregnant.

The baby was due around

this time of year, actually.

But one night I left her on her own

so I could play cards

with friends at my club.

When I finally returned home,

Darlington House was on fire...

No!

A burning ember must have fallen out

of the fireplace onto the carpet.

My poor Agatha..

It's OK.

It will never be OK...

It was an accident,

you can't blame yourself.

But I do.

So how did you end up

living on the streets?

After the funeral I just couldn't

go back to the house.

I had to get away,

I didn't know where to go.

So I just started to walk...

..and kept on walking.

Christmas must be

the hardest time of year for you.

More for the Duchess, really.

She tends to drink heavily

and hide under a big pile of leaves

until it's all over.

I know I'm not much fun

to be around.

I wish I could make

everything right.

You have, child.

Since you came to talk to me

that day

I've been a hundred times happier.

Me too...

I want to go wandering with you.

Absolutely not.

This is your home.

It's not my home, it's her home.

I can't spend another night there.

Are you sure? Yes.

Then I had better

speak to your mother.

Coming, Mr Stink.

You want to leave home?

I thought you wouldn't mind.

Wouldn't mind?!

Chloe, you're my daughter!

I love you.

Do you? Yes!

Mr Stink just - can we call him

something else, darling?

I don't know, like, Geoffrey?

Anyway, Geoffrey just gave me

a very stern talking-to.

I realise now

how important family is.

I'm so sorry, Chloe.

I hope you can forgive me.

Of course.

I love you too, Mum.

I've got a surprise for you!

Cover your eyes.

Wow!

It's going to be all right,

you know, Chloe.

This is going to be

the best Christmas ever.

How'd you do that?

Why don't you go and offer

our guest a drink?

You don't still believe

homeless people

should be kept off the streets,

do you, love?

No, I don't. Good.

They should be kept

in some sort of camp.

Unimaginable kindness.

So I said to the Prime Minister,

"You can stick your job offer up

your fat.. " How old are you?

Nearly ten.

"..fat bum."

This is for you.

I read it. You have a real talent

for writing, Chloe.

Thanks, Mum.

And this is for you, my darling.

A guitar! I love it!

I want to play it right now!

This is for you...

Quantum physics!

Thank you, Mama!

Now, I fell in love

with your father

when he was in the Serpents of Doom

all those years ago.

I wanted him to get a proper job...

..and got rid of his guitar!

And now you can hear why!

Good King Wenceslas looked out

On the feast of Stephen

When the snow lay round about

Deep and crisp and even...

Mr Stink!

The Duchess and I

have decided to wander on.

But why? We all want you to stay.

My soul is restless.

But it's so cold! Don't worry.

I prefer sleeping

in the great outdoors.

On our wedding night, Agatha showed

me the brightest star in the sky.

We stood out on the balcony

and she said she would love me

for as long as that star

kept shining.

So every night, as I go sleep I gaze

at the star, and it's her I see.

And you see that little star

just under it?

Yes?

You are very special,

and so when I look at that star,

I am going to think about you.

Thank you, Mr Stink.

I completely forgot!

I saved up my loose change

and I bought you this.

Happy Christmas.

It's the best present ever.

You can write your stories in it.

I haven't got anything for you.

You've given me more than enough,

child. You've given me hope.

Goodbye, Miss Chloe.

Goodbye, Mr Stink.

Bye, Duchess.

Mr Stink stank. He also stunk.

He was the stinkiest stinker

who ever lived.

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