Sightseers Page #2

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- Chris...

- He's ruined the Tram Museum for me now.

Mint me.

What?

You heard me. Mint me.

(BOTH MOANING)

(MOANING CONTINUES)

(MOANING CONTINUES)

"Dear Mum, I'm not coming home. "

"Yorkshire is lovely.

Not like you said at all. "

"They can smile,

and they do sell my pasta sauce. "

"The caravan bed is quite short,

but Chris is a sensitive lover. "

"Hope you can be happy for me.

Love, Tina. "

TINA:
Right, well,

they've only got two spots left.

One by the Dingley Dell

and one by the bogs.

CHRIS:
Um, he's going for Dingley Dell.

Chris, I want Dingley Dell.

I'm gonna get this bloody Dingley Dell.

- Can't we go around it?

- Just hold on, I'm gonna do it.

- Go around them. Go around.

- We'll make it.

- Go that way.

- I will, just wait there, wait...

- Just go around it.

- Okay! Hold on.

Oh, Chris! Don't look at them, Chris.

(GASPS) Oh, I just...

(WHOOPING)

(TYRES SKIDDING)

(BOTH LAUGH)

F*** you!

I am the best. Get in.

- Now, see that?

- Yes.

Plug that into that

little hole over there. Right?

Why?

You don't need to know why. Just do it.

- Okay?

- The little hole.

The little hole.

Turn it round so that fits

in that little bit there.

- That hole...

- No, I wanna do it.

- Okay.

- This is a ridiculous plug, this.

Never seen anything like it.

- (CLICKS)

- CHRIS:
There we go.

- I did it. (CHUCKLES)

- Brilliant.

I'll just sort that out.

Chris?

What?

It's a bit eerie, isn't it?

Yeah, I suppose it is, yeah.

I didn't think it would kill him,

did you, Chris?

Well, there's loads of stuff

under a caravan that'll kill you.

I'll have nightmares

about that tonight now.

Oh, you're not gonna go under a caravan,

are you?

You're gonna be in the driving seat.

In the car, with me.

Well, not driving.

I mean, in the passenger seat.

I'll do the driving.

CHRIS:
Bit of a mess, actually.

There we go, good as new.

CHRIS:
This is exactly

how I imagined it.

There's no one sticking their nose in.

No one penetrating the mind.

(SIGHING) I'll have to sort

all of this out all again.

CHRIS:
Take the noble English oak,

Old Knobbley.

That won't stab you in the back

or belittle your five-year plan.

I mean, where am I supposed to put that?

- That tree won't...

- There isn't anywhere.

- There's just no surfaces.

- ... steal things that belong to you

and put them in another place

just to piss you off.

That tree won't involve itself

in low-level bullying

that means you have to leave work.

I've got a confession to make.

Chris. Not a wheat intolerance?

No. It's, uh, it's not just

an erotic odyssey we're on.

(DISAPPOINTED) Isn't it?

Well, it is.

I mean, that's a big part of it, but...

(INHALES) Er, I'm writing a book.

- Are you?

- Yeah.

I thought I'd just have

a bit of a sabbatical.

You know, a bit of time off work

and, you know, find my voice.

But, uh, I've had a bit of a problem

with writer's block.

You know, been...

creative constipation.

I hooked up with you at capoeira

and I realised you were exactly

what I needed. You know, a muse.

- Am I your muse?

- Yeah.

- Chris!

- How do you feel about that?

I've never been a muse before.

No? I've never had a muse before.

It's great. Yeah.

- Thank you.

- My pleasure.

- What's the book about?

- (DRUMS PLAYING FAINTLY)

Just sort of making inroads into

my own mind and taking notes as I go.

Do you know what I mean? It's fantastic.

I'm really pleased with

what I've come up with so far.

- MAN:
Knock, knock.

- CHRIS:
Oh, hello.

Settled in?

CHRIS:
Yeah, we have, thanks.

Yeah, lovely spot.

- Not bad, is it?

- Yeah.

Just doing my rounds.

Sorry about the racket.

- CHRIS:
Yeah.

- Festival in the yurt field.

- CHRIS:
Who are they?

- Uh, well, they're shaman.

They're sort of priests. Shamans.

They're from Portsmouth, you know.

- Uh-huh.

- It's just a little festival.

Keeps them all happy, doesn't it?

You know.

And how long are they

gonna be drumming for?

Well, just this evening.

- Okay?

- Thanks a lot, mate.

- All the best.

- Yeah.

- Bye.

- Pleasure.

He seemed nice.

(DISDAINFULLY) Yurts.

CHRIS:
There's a stream

down here somewhere.

I need some proper boots, Chris.

CHRIS:
Yeah,

brought my last girlfriend.

Oh.

Yeah, I think this was it.

This is a ditch, Chris.

WOMAN:
I thought he said on the phone

we'd be at the Dingley Dell.

- MAN:
I know, darling.

- We're right by the loo.

- Well, that'll be handy.

- Shall I take some light stuff, darling?

- Yeah, that'd be great.

- Sterling Elite 90, isn't it?

Sorry?

Sterling Elite 90.

Yeah. Yes.

How'd you find it

on the petrol consumption?

Uh, not too bad, actually.

Takes her less fuel to pull

than some of the older models.

Yeah, you're probably right, yeah.

We use loads of petrol. Don't we, Tina?

Yeah, we love it.

Hey, do you mind if we have

a little look inside? Is that all right?

BOTH:
Um...

- I'll only be a second.

- MAN:
A quick look wouldn't hurt.

CHRIS:
Yeah.

WOMAN:
Okay. Fine.

CHRIS:
We really appreciate it.

Be fantastic to have a look in there.

Sorry, do you mind

just slipping those off?

- I saw you come out of the toilet block.

- CHRIS:
Mmm-hmm.

(TINA GASPS)

It's beautiful in here.

It's just like a hospital.

- It's all oak.

- (DOG BARKING)

CHRIS:
What's this, then?

MAN:
It's a stereo unit.

It's a bit delicate.

CHRIS:
Is it?

WOMAN:
It's German. German.

There's no buttons on it.

(CHUCKLES) Well, it's voice-activated.

Don't... Sorry...

- Poppy.

- WOMAN:
You all right, Banjo?

Are you in there?

(INDISTINCT CHATTERING ON TV)

- CAROL:
Tina?

- What?

Have you had all the Senokot?

- No.

- (DOORBELL RINGS)

- Hello.

- Hi. My name's Chalid Sulinan.

I work for CACSA,

raising money for child soldiers.

TINA:
No.

- (TOY SQUEAKING)

- Aren't you naughty?

Okay. (CLEARS THROAT) I have got some...

Poppy. Come on!

(BARKING PLAYFULLY)

She's... She's like that.

Come on! Yeah!

You're distracting me now, Poppy.

Go on.

(POPPY YELPS)

(THUDDING)

(CAROL WAILING)

Oh, my God! Tina!

(DOORS CLATTERING)

(WHISPERING) Poppy.

MAN:
Do you mind not opening that one?

Sorry, do you mind not opening that one?

God... No!

We don't give him junk food!

(DOG WHIMPERING)

MAN:
Poor boy.

- Cheap crisps are full of horrors.

- WOMAN:
I know.

It'll be nice when you've

decorated it a bit, this place.

Oh, well, we don't like clutter.

No, no, no, you don't want clutter.

You just want some plants and cushions

and pictures and a tablecloth there.

Yeah, well, that would be clutter,

though, wouldn't it? (SIGHS)

I'm really sorry about that.

(CHUCKLING NERVOUSLY) Sorry, sorry.

That's really embarrassing.

- Never mind.

- Sorry. I'm so embarrassed.

It's fine.

Uh, you'll have to pop over

to Dingley Dell sometime.

But, uh, if the caravan's rockin',

don't come a-knockin'.

Ha. Um, we're pretty intent

on doing some serious walking.

I'm writing a book.

Walks Along the Ley Lines of Britain.

Actually, it's his third, so...

(CHUCKLES)

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