Withnail and I Page #5

Withnail:

This is a device enabling the drunken driver to operate in

absolute safety. You fill this with piss, take this pipe down the

trouser and sellotape this valve to the end of the old chap. Then

you get horrible drunk and they can't f***ing touch you.

According to these instructions, you refuse everything except a

urine sample. You undo your valve, give them a dose of

unadulterated child's piss and they have to give you your keys

back. Danny's a genius. I'm going to have a doze.

[They drive on. Later, with the light fading, they leave the

motorway. It becomes clear that the car has only one functioning

headlight. Still later it is totally dark and raining heavily. I

stops and attempts to transfer the single wiper from Withnail's

side of the car to his own but it refuses to come off. He gets

back in the car and in shutting the door wakes Withnail, who

looks considerably the worse for wear.]

Withnail:

Are we there?

I:

No, we're not we're here and we're in the middle of a f***ing

gale. Now you'll have to keep a look out your side. If you see

anything tell me. Get hold of that map.

Withnail:

Where's the whisky?

I:

What for?

Withnail:

I've got a bastard behind the eyes. I can't take aspirins without

a drink. Where's the aspirin?

I:

Probably in the bathroom.

Withnail:

You mean we've come out here in the middle of f***ing nowhere

without aspirins?

I:

Where are we?

Withnail:

How should i know where we are. I feel like a pig shat in my

head.

I:

Now get hold of that map and look for a place called Crow Crag.

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The cottage

[They draw up in a yard and get out of the car. Withnail staggers

around aimlessly as I gets the baggage from the boot.]

Withnail:

There must and shall be aspirins.

I:

Give me the key and get out of the way.

Withnail:

If I don't get aspirin I shall die here on this f***ing

mountainside.

[They enter the house. I lights a match and finds a lantern which he

lights. As the light comes up the inside of the cottage becomes

visible. It is rather spartan.]

Withnail:

Christ almighty

[I looks round a little more thouroughly. He notices a picture of

Monty on the wall.]

I:

Monty!

[He looks accross to Withnail who is sat dejectedly in a chair.]

I:

What are you doing?

Withnail:

Sitting down to enjoy my holiday

I:

Right, now we're going to have to approach this scientifically.

First thing we've got to do is get this fire alight, then we

split into two fact finding groups. I'll deal with the water and

the plumbings, you check the fuel and wood situation.

[A little later Withnail re-enters the cottage from a rather wet and

windy night. He is holding a small stick.]

I:

What's that?

Withnail:

The fuel and wood situation. There's nothing out there except a

hurricane. This place is uninhabitable.

[They sit close to the fire, which is rather small.]

I:

Give it a chance. It's got to warm up

Withnail:

Warm up!? We may as well sit round a cigarette. This is

ridiculous. We'll be found dead in here next spring.

[He attemps half-heartedly to light a cigarette.]

Withnail:

I've got a blinding f***ing headache. Got to have heat!

[He stands and smashes a chair against the floor. A little later the

fire is burning considerably higher.]

Withnail:

Problem's we've got to keep this bastard burning

I:

Well we've got enough furniture for tonight. Tomorrow we get down

that farm and get some logs.

Withnail:

This is a mistake I tell you. This is a dreadful mistake.

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I's bedroom

[I wakes the next morning and gets out of bed. He checks on Withnail

who is still asleep. He steps outside and walks accross the yard to

examine the view. It is quite magnificent. Later, he is dressed and

walks down to the farm. The building is surrounded by an assortment of

farmyard junk. He knocks at the door]

Old woman:

Who's there?

I:

Me!

[The door opens cautiously and an old woman peers out inquiringly.]

Old woman:

What do you want?

I:

I'm a friend of Montague Withnail. He's lent us his cottage. I

wondered if you could sell us some food. Eggs and things.

[She looks blankly at him.]

I:

What about wood and coal?

[Again, he elicits no responce. Seeing she is wearing a hearing aid,

he bends down and talks directly to it.]

I:

I'm not from London you know!

Old woman:

I don't care where you come from.

[She slams the door. I walks away.]

I:

[to himself] Not the attitude I'd been given to expect from the H

E Bates novel I'd read. I thought they'd all be out the back

drinking cider, discussing butter. Clearly a myth. Evidently

country people and no more receptive to strangers than city

dwellers.

[He walks back to the house and addresses the door.]

I:

Do you think you could tell me where I could buy some coal and

wood?

Old woman:

You'll have to see my son. He runs this farm.

I:

Where is you son?

Old woman:

Up in top field. You can't miss him, his legs bound in polythyne.

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The cottage

[I walks back into the yard outside the cottage, slips, and falls in

the mud. He picks himself up and storms inside.]

I:

Withnail you bastard wake up.

[He bangs on the ceiling and moves to the sink to wash.]

I:

Oye, wake up you bastard you've got to get wood.

[Withnail enters, dressed already and wrapped in a blanket.]

Withnail:

Jesus, you're covered in sh*t.

I:

I tried to get fuel and wood, there's a miserable little

pensioner down there wouldn't give it me.

Withnail:

Where are we going to get it then?

I:

There's a man up on the mountain. Why he's up there, f*** knows,

but he's up there with a leg bound in polythene, you can't miss

him, he's your man. And have another look in that shed. Find

anything. If you can't find anything, bring in the shed.

[Later, they are sat down to a simple lunch.]

I:

How come Monty owns such a horrible little shack?

Withnail:

No idea.

I:

You never discuss your family do you?

Withnail:

I fail to see my family's of any interest to you. I've absolutely

no interest in yours. I dislike relatives in general and in

particular mine.

I:

Why?

Withnail:

I've told you why. We're incompatible. They don't like me being

on stage.

[He stands up and takes a foil from its bracket on the wall and

strides up and down in actorly fashion.]

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