Original subtitles

Whoo! Look out, world, Hurricane Holly has arrived.

Yes!

Fit. Fit. Fit.

SHE GIGGLES

Stop flirting with me.

Jesus!

DOOR OPENS AND SHUTS

Any women or children in here? As, apparently I have to ask now!

Yeah, ju... just me, Holly, as myself.

Oh, right-oh.

A bit nervous before the tour, are you?

It's not a tour, Clifford.

Every time someone calls it that, Jack has another nervy b.

Well, you're bundling this rabble into vehicles

and taking them off wrestling for a week,

call it what you want, it's a tour.

It's also where a wrestler risks falling prey to all manner of vices.

Cheap booze, dubious drugs, meaningless sexual encounters...

Ooh, loosen my leotard, it's going to be incredible.

Cliff, I can't hear ya.

SPANDEX TWANG

Ooh!

Did that come from you?

Yep, uh, just doing a woman's thing.

Oh, right-oh.

Never mind.

I'm not worried about whether I can control four wrestlers

and two roadies over a week's guest spot at Pollards holiday camp.

That's another thing.

What about this guest wrestler of yours, the Masked Hurricane?

She's a total pro. Don't worry. She is the boss.

As long as you're sure.

HE FARTS, PLOP

Excuse me. Doing a men's thing.

Ugh!

Hey, Ben, what are you up to today?

Uh, pretty much nothing...

except going on tour! Yeah!

Queen Berthalonicus, what are you doing?

Um, going on tour, mate!

Yeah!

Woodhouse?

Shatizzity tour!

Yeah! Come on, baby!

Jack Hammer, what are you doing?

Ready to undo that top button and finally pick up some vices?

Well, I'd say I-I have a vice and it's called Nordic Walking.

So I am going to finally update the satnav firmware, uh,

reschedule Woodhouse's training

and double check that I've locked the warehouse...

Then, well, yes, I too am going off site,

what people have chosen to call a tour.

CHEERING

Hey, listen up! We all know there's fun to be had on tour.

But what you young fools don't understand...

..is that you are not going ruddy mental enough!

CHEERING

THEY SHOUT AND CHANT

Road trip!

Welcome to Pollards, I'm head entertainer.

This poem's a greeting and legal disclaimer.

We're not Butlin's or Pontins There is no implied similarity

And it's been two proud years since our last onsite fatality.

A wonderful holiday camp you did choose

My great-great-grandfather was Peter Pollard

But we do not share his views.

CLUCKING

Battery Ken there.

CLUCKING

Fun little chicken.

THEY WHOOP

Technically an off-site booking.

I'll show you around after your show,

which starts in 20 minutes, by the way.

CHEERING

Just look at that crowd. Go, go!

I know I could carry this show on my own, but aren't we one short?

Yeah, where's the Masked Hurricane? Hols?

I told ya, the Hurricane's a do-it-on-the-night kind of gal.

No planning backstage beforehand. Never breaks character.

Berthalonicus!

BOOING

Aah! Old school, just like Tommy Bubbins the Mystic Monk...

he never said a word to anybody.

Which is probably how he managed to get away with

keeping six separate families.

AUDIENCE CHEERING

Sweet secret identity, Hol.

Shush!

Look, if they find out Cliff will find out,

and if Cliff finds out he'll tell Mum,

and if Mum finds out I'll be D-E-A...

You can say you're deaf.

Hard of hearing, but that wasn't...

The point is we're the only ones who know.

Got it, so you're saying we need a cool name.

What about the three discreet people?

Or the triangle of trust?

Way better.

That... That says "vagina" in sign language.

Look, as far as the others know,

the Hurricane is a ringer that I found on Facebook

after she bought a costume from Bertha.

Three costumes, not actually inexpensive. Three costumes.

Now, let's get this tour started.

CHEERING

And their opponent, you've never seen her before,

and you're not the only ones.

Making her debut...

# I like the way you move... #

..the Masked Hurricane. # The way you move #

# I like the way you move

# I like the way you move... #

One, two...

# I like the way you move

# I like the way you move. #

One, two, three!

CHEERING

Give it up for Boss Pro Wrestling!

And Pollards announcement, for guests in the silver campsite,

the warm water in the showers has been turned on.

Oh, my God, that was amazing. People cheered, they threw stuff.

Glad you enjoyed watching me.

Hol, should you be that sweaty from just coming from the bog, like?

She's got a woman's thing. Yeah.

PHONE BUZZES

I can't talk now, Mum, we just did our first paying show and killed it.

Well done.

And due to criticism that the course was insufficiently crazy,

we had to rename it Odd Golf.

It's kind of a shame I'm destined to be a pro wrestler,

cos imagine working in this palace of dreams.

Oh, well, we are severely understaffed,

so if you fancy an unpaid trial as a Pollards brown coat...

Sha'bingo.

Oh, almost forgot. Acts benefit from a bunch of Pollards perks.

All that you can eat 24/7 buffet over here.

Pan fried, deep fried or both! Thank you, Lord Jesus.

Unlimited house cocktails... Unlimited what now?

And I've got some arcade tokens.

Though I doubt any of you will be lucky enough

to win the legendary Pollards pot. The Pina Pollarda, what's in this?

Oh, it's a secret.

In that we don't actually know,

there's just a load of unmarked tins in the basement.

Mike, uh, wondered if I could just grab ya for a minute.

Oh, you can grab me any time.

There's no such thing as luck.

Mm-mm, only statistics. Money pot, you've met your match, bad luck.

I've wrestled here before. Easter... '95.

And there was a very obliging canteen lady who told me

the secret ingredient. What the hell was it?

Great news, Mike's tripled the booking!

Ooh, um, Holly if I could just, uh, raise a verbal flag.

Na-ah.

Celebrate, we're on tour.

What, three weeks? Won't that clash with Slamageddon?

No, tripled the shows per day.

Yeah, we can remove the asbestos in the roof,

walls and floor another time.

Afternoon, evening, night. Isn't that great?

Two more shows today?

Hols, you signed off on that?

It's amazing, it's more shows, it... What?

It's like training, live, but with that-that rush.

That rush is addictive.

To you. Hang about, that means a return audience.

Pollards regulars.

You specifically had me prepare a storyline across seven shows.

You can't just triple everything and expect it'll be better.

It's not an orgy. No, it's lucky for you that I am a master LARPer.

I'll write us an epic storyline that'll fill every hole.

Er, match, every match.

And here, more matches, more post-show meals.

I'm game.

Look, I-I'm saying, these-these long bathroom breaks

are starting to get noticed, uh,

and we do have three costumes,

so perhaps Woodhouse and I could take turns...

Sure, uh, figure it out, like, triangle of trust and all that.

They need me out there.

Come on.

Shut up!

Holly, the Masked Hurricane's missing out on all the freebies.

Yep.

Cos she's outside or asleep,

or-or she's stood in that dark corner waving on her own.

Any questions? No? Good.

God, this thing really rides.

One, two, three!

Hol, your might want to get out here, your ringer's a right goer.

Goodness, that's a lot of tongues.

Everyone's having a good time.

OK, Cliff your story for show 18'll be fine

as long as you can replicate yourself three times

and then all fight each other.

No problem, Bertha,

I can already see two of me and I'll get working on a third.

Yes!

I actually finished the buffet

so they got me something from the deep, deep freezer.

It's like a chicken-y beef. Grrr!

Yeah, yeah, so give us your wages,

I'll exchange 'em for tokens then I'll get more tokens

with those tokens and grab the pot and we'll all be rich, yeah?

Yeah.

Guys. Guys.

Not to be all Clarence Clockwatcher,

but we've only got 20 minutes until the next show.

I hope your day is fun and exciting

and if you have any complaints please don't put them in writing.

Woodhouse, we've gotta get set up!

Yeah, as soon as I finish me shift, pal.

I'm a cock-a-doodle-doer, not a cock-a-don'tle-doer.

CLUCKS

Team! Ready to smash it? Course you are.

And don't forget, keep, you know, doing... whatever.

Holly!

GROANING

The winner, Ben's good identical twin, not his evil identical twin.

Next, give it up for Berthalonicus.

It's ghost Berthalonicus!

Whatever, versus the Masked Hurricane.

Grrr!

MOANING

EXCITED MOANING

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

GASPS

Can you guard the door for another minute? Cheers.

I'm just saying the shows are suffering. I-I'm not here to judge.

I'm not my dad,

who judges the Jersey Young Morris Dancers competition...

harshly. Between wrestling and cupboarding...

This is cos you're jealous of me wrestling.

I'm not jealous of him... of you wrestling!

It's not your business, Jack. As in it's literally my business.

I'm the one carrying Boss. I'm the one caring every day for a sick mum.

PHONE BUZZES

Jack, for once, everyone's happy,

which is, like, an emotion that some people feel.

But, chill.

Everything's under control. Except you.

Yes! Oh, yes!

I'm the Masked Hurricane, baby. Yes!

No!

That thing I revealed, it's classified information, so shush,

welcome to the triangle of trust.

Again? Uh, I'm kind of tired.

No, that's not, um... Never mind.

Well, well, look what we have here.

Cliff, I, um...

Canteen's doing double Pina Pollardas.

BUZZING

Ah, Mum, give it a rest!

Thanks, fit Mike from the triangle of trust to the square of trust.

Oh, as in up your...

No, that's still not what it means, and still no.

Anyone any objections?

Great, killer shows, Boss Pro, you're murdering it.

Did you hear Jack? Mike's extended our run as long as we want.

Yeah, we had a Simon and Garfunkel act booked but I just found out

they're not singers and they won't say what it is they do.

So as the camp's chief decision maker,

until they reanimate Peter Pollard from the deep,

deep freezer...

Holly, an open-ended run is a really bad idea.

Mya's broke. Bertha's broken.

Cliff seems to be dying in both senses of the word.

I don't remotely trust whatever it is Ben's eating.

It's kind of a lamby turkey.

And Woodhouse is now a very irresponsible hen.

Who wants to be a Battery Ken egg?

Come on, kids, it's time to get laid!

Jack, I know you prefer we didn't wrestle in front of an audience,

but I'm trying to get us unskint.

Plus, for once, I get to be slammed about and wrestle.

Square of trust, eh?

Good morning, campers,

it's a new day at Pollards, the resort you adore,

if you want sheets on your bed it costs £2 more.

Nudge.

GASPS

This is the lucky one.

Ah, I can feel it. Mya? Don't jinx it!

The machine is susceptible to bad vibes.

You know the top prize is just a pot?

Yeah.

Yeah, the Pollards pot full of money.

Actually, I read the Pollards manifunsto

and the money is merely "an example of something you could put in it,"

and the pot is actually a pot-style plastic item.

What?

I got it!

Hey, the money!

I see now I might have misused my time.

Uh, Bertha?

I've had a breakthrough on the next wave.

I've created a whole universe that all makes impeccable sense.

Show 173, the soul of the Masked Hurricane

inhabiting Clifford's body versus my unborn child.

And here's the thing - the whole match takes place backwards.

About that, I sent Mango your backstory handbooks

and she's posted a page on the GWONK blog entitled Continuity Errors.

Hm! "If the winner of the trans dimensional battle royale

"in show 17 was a time-travelling Berthalonicus

"from the future, how come she didn't know she'd be betrayed

"by the Masked Hurricane when they forged an alliance in show 9?"

MUSIC PLAYS, DROWNING OUT SPEECH

SHE SCREAMS

Someone called food and hygiene, sent them a photo of the kitchen

and toilet, which supposedly shouldn't be the same room.

But, uh, take a Pol'pology card.

But I almost cracked the secret ingredient. Just give me one more.

Then ten more.

Please, I need another bite of that porky fish.

Yeah?

So when he walks past in the rooster costume you'll read this poem

that I've written in the voice of Peter Pollard.

The first days of Pollards seemed gloriously bright,

but the sense creeps upon you that something's not right.

Over the course of 12 persuasive verses the park's own voice

will convince him that Woodhouse should abandon Pollards

and return to his true destiny in the world of wrestling.

Fair point, I'll go get me stuff.

See you in a sec.

Sorry about that, I'll leave you to your work.

I don't work here.

Right, I'm here at 1:27 like you weirdly demanded by text,

email and Battery Ken tel-egg-gram.

Say what you like,

but getting this sweet gig is not me letting Boss down.

I'm not going to say anything. Watch this.

ON TV: 'Wrestling is still going strong

'and the hottest British company is Nitro Wrestling.

'We are joined today by Nick Nitro, who's apparently 19.'

Yes, yes, welcome aboard the Nitro express. Nitro wrestling!

Nick's a moron.

He-he straightens his pubes! How does he get on national TV?

Pam set it up for you to push Slamageddon,

but you never called her back.

Tell Holly when Mum called, Nick answered, knife emoji.

Holly, we can't stay here forever.

I know how thrilling it is to wrestle in front of people,

probably, but I need you...

..to lead the team as a manager.

Your commitment to wrestling cannot go unsaid,

but without a strong leader all the team will drop dead.

Let's leave immediately and never speak of this again.

FOOTSTEPS APPROACH

You're not going? Uh, the walls are very thin here.

Technically, reinforced cardboard.

Right.

Fit Mike.

Do you never think, "I work for a shitty family business

"with no redeeming qualities whatsoever

"and I just urgently need to get out"?

Talking about your job. Not mine.

Well, we're alive and richer for it.

Not financially, of course, but spiritually.

That's it.

The Pino Pollarda secret ingredient was methylated spirit.

Yeah, probably best we left. I wonder who replaced us.

Hello, guys, I'm Simon Bifford.

I'm Garfunkel Jenkins, and this is puppetry of the anus.

And for our first act we just need any medium-sized object.

Uh, no keys, no keys, please.

We've a week of training left.

I'll get us together, I'll make us a team for Slamageddon.

Us and the Hurricane.

So we're back to the triangle of trust?

We got away with it.

What, the fact that Holly's secretly the Masked Hurricane?

I knew the second I got the order.

I'd recognise those tit measurements anywhere.

OK, now it's a square.

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