Withnail & I Page #2

You should never mix your drinks!

All right, this is the plan.

We'll get in there and get wrecked.

Then we'll eat a pork pie. Then we'll

drop a couple of Surmontil 50s each.

Means we'll miss out Monday

but come up smiling Tuesday morning.

- What's that appalling smell?

- Perfume on my boots.

I had to scrub them

with essence of petunia.

Two large gins, two pints of cider,

ice in the cider.

If my father was loaded,

I'd ask him for some money.

If your father was my

father, you wouldn't get it.

- Here you are, lads.

- Chin-chin.

Ugh!

What about what's-his-name?

- What about him?

- Why don't you give him a call?

- What for?

- Ask him about his house.

You want me to call what's-his-name

and ask him about his house?

- Why not?

- All right. What's his number?

I have no idea.

I've never met him.

Well, neither have I.

Who the f*** are you talking about?

Your relative with the house

in the country.

- Monty? Uncle Monty?

- Same. That's the one.

Get theJag fixed up,

spend a week in the country.

All right. Give us a tanner,

and I'll give him a bell.

Here. Get a couple more.

I'm going for a slash.

Ponce.

I could hardly

piss straight with fear.

A man with three-quarters of an inch

of brain had taken a dislike to me.

What have I done to offend him? I don't

consciously offend big men like this.

And this one has a definite

imbalance of hormone in him.

Get any more masculine than him,

you'd have to live up a tree.

"I f*** arses. "

Who fucks arses?

Maybe he fucks arses.

Maybe he's written this in some

moment of drunken sincerity?

I'm in considerable

danger in here.

I must get out of here at once.

Perfumed ponce!

You'll be pleased to hear

Monty's invited us for drinks.

Balls to Monty.

We're getting out.

Balls to Monty? I already spent

an hour flattering the bugger.

There's a man over there doesn't like

the perfume. A big one. Don't look.

We're in danger.

We've got to get out.

- What are you talking about?

- I've been called a ponce.

What f***er said that?

I called him a ponce,

and now I'm calling you one.

Ponce!

Would you like a drink?

What's your name? McFuck?

I have a heart condition.

I have a heart condition.

If you hit me, it's murder.

I'll murder the pair of yous!

My wife is having a baby.

Listen, I don't know what my...

acquaintance did to upset you,

but it's nothing to do with me.

I suggest you both go outside...

and discuss it sensibly

in the street.

Out of my way!

Speed is like

a dozen transatlantic flights...

without ever

getting off the plane.

Time change.

You lose. You gain.

Makes no difference, so long

as you keep taking the pills.

But sooner or later,

you gotta get out...

because it's crashing,

and all at once

those frozen hours...

melt through

the nervous system...

and seep out the pores.

Bastards! Just to suck...

some miserable cheap cigar,

and the bastards won't see me.

Why are we having lunch in here?

It's dinner, and Danny's here.

Danny?

How did he get in?

I let him in this morning.

He lost one of his clogs.

He's come in because

of this perpetual cold.

Oh, I hope

tobacco sales plummet.

I've got your saveloy.

Here. I don't want it.

Then stick it in a soap tray

and save it for later.

Don't vent spleen on me!

I'm in the same boat!

Stop saying that!

You're not in the same boat.

The only thing you're in that

I have been in is this f***ing bath!

Danny's here.

Headhunter to his friends.

Headhunter to everybody.

He doesn't have any friends.

The only people

he converses with...

are his clients

and occasionally the police.

The purveyor of rare herbs and

prescribed chemicals is back.

Will we never be set free?

- Danny.

- You're looking very beautiful, man.

Have you been away?

St. Peter preached the epistles

to the apostles looking like that.

Have you got any food?

Mmm. As a matter of fact,

I got a saveloy.

How much is it?

You can have it for nothing.

- I see you're wearing a suit.

- What's it got to do with you?

No need to get uptight, man.

I was merely making an observation.

I happened to be looking for a suit

for the Coalman two weeks ago.

For reasons I can't really

discuss with you...

the Coalman

had to go toJamaica.

Got busted coming back

through Heathrow.

Had a weight under his fez.

We worked out, it would be very handy

karma for him to get hold of a suit.

But he's a very low-temperature

spade, the Coalman.

Goes into court

in his caftan and a bell.

This doesn't go down at all well.

They can handle the caftan,

but they can't handle the bell.

So there's this judge sitting there

in the cape like f***ing Batman...

- with this really rather

far-out looking hat... - Wig.

No, man. This was more

like a long white hat.

So he looks at the Coalman

and says,

"What's all this? This is a court,

man. This ain't fancy dress. "

And the Coalman

looks at him and says,

"You think you look normal,

Your Honor?"

C*nt give him two years.

I'm afraid I can't offer

you gentlemen anything.

That's all right, Danny.

We decided to lay off for a bit.

That's what I thought. Except

for personal use, I concur with you.

As a matter of fact, I'm thinking

of retiring and going into business.

Doing what?

- The toy industry.

- I thought you were in the bottle industry.

No, man. That's a sideline.

You can have that.

Instructions are included.

Yeah, my partner's got a really

good idea for making dolls.

His name's Presuming Ed.

His sister give him the idea.

She got a doll on Christmas

what pisses itself.

- Really?

- Yeah, and you gotta change its drawers for it.

It's horrible, really.

But they like that, little girls.

So we're gonna make one

that shits itself as well.

- Shits itself?

- He's an expert.

He's building the prototype now.

Why is he behaving so uptightly?

Because a gang of cheeroot vendors

considered a haircut beyond my abilities.

I don't advise a haircut, man.

All hairdressers are

in the employment of the government.

Hair are your aerials.

They pick up signals

from the cosmos...

and transmit them

directly into the brain.

This is the reason

bald-headed men are uptight.

What absolute twaddle.

- Has he just been busted?

- No.

Then why is he wearing

that old suit?

Old suit? This suit

was cut by Hawke's of Savile Row.

Just because the best tailoring you've ever seen is

above your f***ing appendix doesn't mean anything!

Don't get uptight with me, man.

'Cause if you do, I'll have to

give you a dose of medicine.

And if I spike you, you'll know

you've been spoken to.

You wouldn't spike me.

You're too mean.

Besides, there's nothing

invented I couldn't take.

If I medicined you, you'd think

a brain tumor was a birthday present.

I could take double

anything you could.

Very, very foolish words, man.

He's right, Withnail.

Look at him.

His mechanism's gone. He's had

more drugs than you've had hot dinners.

I'm not having this

shag sack insulting me.

Let him get his drugs out.

Rate this script:5.0 / 3 votes