The Trip to Italy Page #5

in which case I'd still

like to receive it from my cell

via satellite link.

Yeah.

Thrilled to have this.

You know, I killed Steve

for the good of mankind.

Do I regret what I've done?

Not really,

because I think the world's-

- Lights out!

- Got to go. Good-

Brydon!

Lights out, you nonce!

- Uh, yeah,

that's not what I'm in for,

but I accept it

as a general derogatory term.

Come on, Rob. Come to bed.

All right, Melvin.

I'll be a minute.

Anyway, that's all from me.

- I want a cuddle.

Yeah, it's all right.

I'll give you a cuddle.

Please just wait.

Um, so anyway, on Steve's

behalf, thanks for this.

He would have loved it,

but, you know, he's gone-

- Come on.

- Yeah, all right.

- I'm horny!

- I want to go on the inside.

- Of the bed, of the bed,

of the bed,

not the inside of the inmate-

the inside of the bed.

I better go and call Joe.

See you in a bit.

So how did you end up here?

Hmm.

My boyfriend had a boat.

We sailed together.

Then when we broke up,

I had to find work,

so I got a job on the crew.

Must be fun.

Sometimes.

Do you have children?

No.

I Wish I did.

Do you?

Yeah.

I've got a daughter, Chloe.

She's three.

Aww.

She's gorgeous.

Do you miss her?

Yeah.

it's been two days, so I'm...

I'm not pining, but...

Is thy face

like thy mother's,

fair, my child?

Chloe:

sole daughter

of my house and heart.

When last I saw

thy young blue eyes,

they smiled, and then we parted.

- Is that your Hugh Grant

impression?

- Yes, I'm afraid it is.

Yes, yes.

- I think that Steve's

absolutely right.

I do find it very difficult to-

uh, gosh, crikey-

say a poem, uh,

unless

it's somebody else's voice.

And Hugh

just happened to be passing,

you know, on-on the beach.

And he popped over for a blow...

- By-blow account

of what was going on.

"Sorrow is knowledge.

'They who know the most

"must mourn the deepest

o'er the fatal truth.

The tree of knowledge

is not that of life. "

F***.

F***, f***, fuckity f***.

You okay?

- Yes.

Fine.

How was last night?

Fine.

You want to elaborate?

I don't want to talk about it,

and that's not the cue

for an ABBA song.

- Well, I think

when most people say

they don't want to talk

about it,

it means it didn't go very well,

but with you,

I'd infer that, uh, it-

it went pretty well.

- Yeah.

Too well.

it's not how I imagined

it would be.

- I've never seen

so many deck chairs.

- See, you got Shelley

upon his funeral pyre,

Byron staring wistfully

into space.

That's Trelawney.

He's the guy that

commissioned the boat, so...

Oh, that's a bit awkward.

- Hence he's staring

at his feet.

- They wouldn't sue

in those days,

not like they do now.

Have you been injured at work

while composing romantic poetry

on a boat?

Call now!

- Yeah.

0800-471-471.

You could win up to 5,000.

Like Mr. Shelley-

Guineas. Guineas.

- You could win

up to 5,000 guineas,

like Mr. Shelley

from the U.K.!

They wouldn't have called it

the U.K.

Like Mr. Shelley

from Great Britain!

But this is a very idealized

version of everything.

I mean, he wouldn't have

looked like that.

He'd been bobbing around

for two weeks,

so he'd have been bloated

beyond belief.

- Everything looks better

in a painting, doesn't it?

- I sometimes think

that one day, I will be-

and so will you-

on a slab.

YEP-

- You'll have a little tag

round your toe,

and somebody will be there

embalming you.

- Yep.

- Ever think that?

'Cause it is gonna happen.

Unless you're lost at sea,

and we cannot find you,

which is unlikely...

Oh, God.

- You will one day

lie on a slab.

Ah!

You will. You will.

it's better to accept it.

You're gonna be on a slab.

- Yeah.

- And then-

and you'll be naked.

Then somebody else

will dress you.

Yeah, but I'd do-

- I would imagine, with you,

that will happen

sometime before

you actually die,

somebody else dressing you.

I see you in your later years...

Having to be dressed.

- I will.

- You will.

- And I'll be dressed by

a very attractive young nurse.

- Yeah, but you'll be able

to do nothing with her.

You'll be able to do

absolutely nothing with her,

'cause only your mind-

you'll be like

The Diving Bell

and the Butterfly,

and your mind will still be

as active as it is now.

- I'll still be able

to sort of clasp her hand

as she walks away.

- No, there'll be no groping

at all,

and that will absolutely

kill you from the inside,

because she'll lean over you,

knowing,

and she'll taunt you

with her breasts.

And there'll be nothing

you can do.

And I'd love to be there.

I would love to be there.

- I don't know what films

you've been watching.

- Do you know what I do?

I read for Steve.

"You heard what Rob Brydon

does for Steve?

"Steve is more or less

a vegetable,

but Rob goes every day

and reads. "

And the only reason I do it

is to be there,

watching you unable to reach out

to your Filipino nurse,

knowing how much

it's hurting you.

All right, just a quick one.

Look at that hair.

George Michael

in the Careless Whisper video.

Why do we have to do this?

- A picture is worth

1,000 words.

- The sign says

go the other way.

- Yeah, but the sat nav said

go this way.

- Well, I think the signs

were right,

and I'm the navigator.

It would help if we got

over 40 miles an hour.

All right.

See how I changed down, then?

- Yeah.

I love the crunch sound

that you made when you did it

as well.

I'm hungry, so let's just stop

at the first place we come to.

Care to explain this?

Oi, here.

What are you doing

with Casanovas autobiography

in your sandwich box?

It's just research. That's all.

Just gonna plump up the articles

with a bit of, um-

bit of culture, you know.

The, um-

this is just extracts.

The full thing is 800 pages.

How long was your book,

your autobiography?

I can't remember.

300? ZOO-and-something?

300?

- 200 of that has

got to have been padding.

There's not much padding.

I'll be very honest with you.

Have you read it?

- No, of course not.

No.

I mean, I've skimmed the index

in WHSmith's,

saved myself the 1.99.

Ah.

Ravioli.

- I see.

- Pasta.

Grazia mills.

You know we're not that far

from the hotel.

You know that, don't you?

About 10 miles.

I know.

- Because I checked a thing

called a map.

it's what they used to use

in the olden days, Rob.

- Fine,

so when we get to the hotel,

we'll enjoy the hotel.

Yeah, I know.

We could have been

eating there now.

- This is good.

What's wrong with this?

Nothing wrong with it.

This is good ravioli.

"He possessed two of the most

"important ingredients

of greatness:

"total self-confidence

and super-abundant energy.

"He feared nobody.

He was equally at home

in a palace or a tavern... "

Tick, tick, tick.

- "A church or a brothel. "

- Tick.

- "He was totally devoid

of a sense of morality.

Love for him"...

- Well, that's not me.

"Had no connection with evil.

It meant pleasure,

pure and simple. "

- That's not me.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes