Original subtitles

Phone rings

'dear diary:

'Well, here we go. In two days' time,

'globelink news will cease to exist.

'Everyone is handling it very differently.

'Damien has responded to the fear of redundancy

'by going on a solo expedition into the Amazon.

'Poor Gus is more in denial than ever,

'especially since last week's fire.

'He has forbidden all mention of sir roysten's name

'in connection with the mystery blaze.

'And as for me, well...

'There's been an unfortunate development.'

what "unfortunate development"? Excuse me!

On Thursday, you're flying to Australia

to start a wonderful new life with sue.

This is no time for unfortunate development.

Yes, I know, but, well...

Margaret's been taken ill.

She's had a minor heart attack. How very convenient.

Helen, she couldn't make a heart attack.

Oh, come off it, George.

Women fake orgasms every day of their lives.

A heart attack's a doddle. She is really very poorly.

Slowly: She is no longer your wife.

Yeah, I know.

Oh, will someone please talk some sense into him?

It's perfectly simple, George.

Over here, you have Susan, my niece,

a wonderful woman who thinks all your orifices are solar-powered.

Now, over here, we have your former ball and chain, Margaret,

a crab apple on legs. A woman who has always treated you

like a cross between a doormat and a toilet roll.

Now, if that's a dilemma, I'm the pope's left bollock.

Well, not exactly how I would have put it, but, basically, he's right.

Isn't he, Dave? Well, I hardly think Henry is in a position

to lecture other people about the choices they should be making.

What are you talking about?

I'm talking about a man who has frequently pontificated

about moral standards in broadcasting,

and who is now appearing as Wes Jasper's idiot stooge,

in a show where naked fat women attempt to play god save the queen

on a Hammond organ... With their buttocks.

Oh, that's right, you take the moral high ground.

You, who until last week, were the gofer

for the biggest race fixer in England.

All right, you two... well, unlike some, I got out.

At least I'm not still being jerked around

by some exploitative little shit.

Oh, but you will be,

because you basically are as weak as vegetarian piss.

You were born to be bookie fodder. Just look at yourself, man!

You've no flat, no job, no future!

You're Dave charnley - professional nothing.

We think that was very rude and uncalled for.

And obviously not true.

Gus?

I thought you'd like to see these.

Our last set of viewing figures. We experienced an upturn last week.

Really? Yes.

0.0000017%.

We're turning the corner, George. Just as I predicted.

Chuckles

that fire wasn't started deliberately, you know.

Oh, no, siree, Bob. It was a tragic accident.

Gus, the fireman said

that somebody filled the wastepaper bin with petrol.

Well, you know what this place is like.

People Chuck all kinds of stuff in the bin. It was just sloppiness.

Gus, it was an insurance fire. Well, it couldn't have been sir roysten.

Scoffs

I'm going to prove you all wrong, George.

I'm going to see sir roysten in person, straighten this out.

But you'll never get to see him!

He lives behind huge walls, and, apparently,

he has these reinforced steel doors that slam shut

whenever he feels threatened,

and a private security force that shoots intruders.

That was a misunderstanding.

Besides, those children shouldn't have been scrumping on his property.

But... George, George, George, don't fret so.

I know sir roysten has not forsaken me. Hmm?

Gus chuckles

any jobs in the offing? Just the one.

My girlfriend's offered to employ me delivering sandwiches

for her send-out service, the sarnie army.

Oh, well, that sounds, um...

Humiliating is the word that you're looking for, George.

And, uh, this is the catalogue for your new exhibition.

Oh, I see you've mentioned me head-butting that critic.

It makes me sound a bit disturbed.

Well, you're an artist. You're supposed to be disturbed.

And, ideally, you should have at least three mental illnesses

and a missing ear.

I, uh... don't suppose you'd have dinner with me tonight?

I mean, if I'm a non-starter, just say. I won't be offended.

No, it's not that, it's, um...

..I'm just a bit wary of being messed about, that's all.

Dinner's fine. All right, I'll pick you up at seven.

You like him, don't you?

Yeah, well, he's not like other men I've met. In what way?

Well, he listens,

he washes and he doesn't stare at women's arses.

Panting

this is the heart of darkness.

The Amazon rainforest,

deep in the territory of a fearsome Indian tribe, the mahatawa.

To get here, I have canoed 250 miles, just me and my camera.

An amazing feat of endurance which I have achieved

with no technical back-up, and unhampered by nervous illness.

All I can do now is simply wait,

wait for my encounter with the mysterious and elusive mahatawa,

a tribe known as "the invisible people",

because due to their tracking skills,

you never know when they are close...

Thud

TV play no.

No!

No, it's not that I'm not grateful for your very kind offer,

Amanda, my darling, it is just that...

On TV: 'Welcome our next guest, it is...' Yeah, well...

All right, yes.

I am not prepared to cycle around London

delivering banana, horseradish and seaweed sandwiches,

while wearing a black and white stripy outfit

that makes you look like a sodding zebra!

Cheering on TV

Helen gasps

oh. I'm sorry, Helen.

I thought everyone had gone home. I...

Oh...

You look absolutely stunning.

Yes, I do, don't I?

It's just a shame no-one will see the dress,

given that Gordon has banned all guests from my wedding.

Though, he did allow me to invite my parents.

Oh, good. But, sadly, they can't attend.

Oh. Right.

Yes, they have a prior arrangement.

They have to take some bottles to be recycled.

Right...

'Now, your wife wrote in and nominated you for our'

"most sexually inadequate man in Britain" competition.

I do actually have a six-page letter

here from your wife. Um...

She writes all about how you can't get a stiffy.

Actually, talking about useless pricks, did you see earlier,

that item we had when we got Vic, our researcher,

to eat a pizza topped with ham, and swarfega and dried bogies?

Brilliant, wasn't it, Henry, my main man? Well, it was ok.

Clears throat ok?

Yeah.

Laughs I love this guy!

I love this man, Nigel, eh?

Do you love me, my main man? Of course, dear boy! Yeah, yeah?

Well, why don't you show me how much you love me,

by taking off that wig?

What?

You heard me.

I said, "show me how much you love me by shedding the syrup."

Huh? We all want him to shed his syrup, don't we?

Audience member: Shed the syrup! Yeah, come on.

Chanting: Shed the syrup! Shed the syrup!

A few join in shed the syrup!

Well, I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you.

Well, what you want doesn't matter, Henry, because this is my show.

But... just hand it over, you old fool. Eh?

What's the matter, cat got your tongue? Eh, eh?

If you want to say something, come on out with it.

Eh? Come on, don't hold back, say it.

And the other thing my parents never explained

was why they always told people I died in a car crash.

She sobs I'm sorry.

Oh, it's all this talk about parents and kids not talking to each other.

You know, it's only three weeks since dad died and...

Sniffles don't cry, Helen.

I'm sorry, it just creeps up on me sometimes. No, I mean don't cry.

I find it embarrassing.

Oh, right.

Well, I think, if you don't mind, I'd better take the dress... off.

I'll, um...

Henry shouting on TV I can hear Henry ranting!

'And worst of all,

'you snivelling apology for a human being, '

you epitomise everything I've come to hate about the seedy,

smug, digitally-enhanced,

patronising conman that is television!

You're infantile, arrogant, odious,

egotistical, insensitive and totally vacuous!

Time for a break. I haven't finished yet! Oh, god.

Might as well pull up a chair, I think this could go on for a bit.

But mr mandelson denied having visited any such shop.

And so, we come to the end of this final broadcast.

And I would like to thank you, the little people out there,

leading your humdrum lives in the darkness,

who've given me such devotion over the years.

Goodbye, and bless you.

News sting plays

'ok, the studio is now off-air. Thank you, everybody.'

cork pops there we go.

Well, say something, George.

I don't know want to say.

I'm not a natural orator like Henry.

Oh, wasn't he magnificent last night?

Well, he'll be totally unemployable now.

He used the "f word" live on TV.

Yeah, the "f word", the "b word", the "f-ing, b-ing c word".

Wait! Where are you going? We're about to party.

Ah, I'm not in the mood.

But it'll be full of drunk, married women. Your favourite.

Some other time, ok?

Say goodbye to the others for me.

How was your dinner with Vivian?

He seems very pleasant.

Yeah... he seems nice, but I don't know.

It's a big step, placing your trust in someone.

You have to trust people sometime.

You trusted Margaret.

Yes...

..Yes, I did.

And she abused that trust, didn't she?

Time and time again. Exploited it to twist you round her little finger.

Didn't she?

Excuse me, I have to make a phone call.

Clapping

come on, come on. Shoo, shoo, shoo, shoo, shoo.

This is Damien day, deep in the amazonian rainforest,

where the previously undiscovered mahatawa tribe have made me...

A god.

Yes, George, Gus, Helen... a god.

They worship me all day,

and my name is so holy that the last person to utter it

was covered in honey and tethered over an anthill.

Not something I think you'll find happened when you say "Kate adie".

Watch this...

Chuckles obviously, mother,

I'm terribly sorry that I didn't become a professor like you wanted,

but I suppose I'll just have to make do with being a god instead.

Murmuring what... What are you doing?

No, put that down! Leave the camera alone, put it down.

Look... they're gonna sacrifice my bloody camera.

No!

No, Margaret, I've made up my mind.

You've abused me, robbed me,

stabbed me, had sex with most of my male relatives,

and crocheted obscene additions into my bunny cardigan.

You can't turn around and expect me to nurse you.

Henry!

I'm sorry I missed the last bulletin,

but I've been imbibing a few bottles of bolly.

The way you trashed Wes Jasper last night, we were so proud of you.

Yes. Even though it means you'll never work on TV again.

That's right, I probably have burnt all my boats there.

But I don't give a monkey's,

cos I've landed a brilliant job on radio! What?!

It's true, yeah. Last night, as soon as I got home,

the chief exec of radio gab rang me to offer me my own phone-in.

A phone-in?! Yeah, it's true.

All I have to do is ridicule stupid comments made by morons.

It'll be just like working here.

Only, with a little more variety.

Well... congratulations, Henry. A shrewd move.

I've always said you have the perfect face for radio.

And you, my dear, have the perfect face for trampoline-ing.

Touche. Or in your case, toupee.

My god, I... I'm gonna miss this.

No, Margaret. No!

You're not going to make me feel guilty.

No, I'm sorry, but I don't believe you're having another heart attack

right at this very minute.

You can gurgle all you like.

George dent is off to be happy in Australia!

Cheering

now we come to the vows.

Do you, Gordon Julius Miller,

take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?

To have and to hold, from this day...? I do.

And do you, Sally smedley...? She does, as well.

No, the bride has to answer for herself.

Do you, Sally smedley, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?

To have and to hold...?

Car approaches

I'm Gus hedges, chief executive of globelink news.

You're not down here. Have you got an appointment?

Not as such. Chuckles

I'm sorry. Nobody gets in without an appointment.

Did you call me... a nobody?

No, I did not call you a nobody.

I simply identified you as part of the great collective nobody.

I...

Now, you listen to...

Stammering: That...

I've had enough!

Do you hear me? Enough!

Dogs barking

excuse me, sir, this is a private property.

Argh!

Enough!

Guard groans

yes?

Camera snapping

ooh! No, don't, no, it's all right!

Well... I just wanted to get the dress on record.

Snaps fingers Sally.

He'll make your life a misery.

The man has no heart!

No, you're wrong there, Helen. He does have a heart.

But it has got a very weak aorta.

What?

I felt it was my duty as a wife to get the full medical picture,

and, sadly, it appears that the wall of his pulmonary artery

is so hardened, that he could be struck down

by a massive aneurysm at almost any moment.

Sally!

Coming...

..My dearest darling.

Engine revs

let me alone, woman, I shall see sir roysten now. How dare you?!

Enough! Enough, I say!

I am sorry, sir roysten, he just burst in.

It's all right, miss Frobisher, it's all right.

Why don't you return my calls?

I have tried so hard to please you.

People like me...

..We waste our lives for...

..For what?!

For a fat man... in a big house!

And what do we get in return?

Broken minds.

Dead souls.

Scorched eyebrows.

Sighs

well... let me tell you something!

What...?!

On intercom: 'Yes, sir roysten?' Miss Frobisher...

..Who was that man?

Bird squawks

look, it's been terribly nice to meet you all,

and to be your god and everything, but I really have to

be getting back to civilisation now to sell my story... hold it.

Murmuring

good turnout.

Isn't that the critic whose nose you broke? What's he doing here?

Pushing his luck. Dave charnley. I thought we'd seen the last of you.

Yeah, well... um, what are you doing?

It's a piece of performance art.

I put food in my pocket, take it home and eat it.

I'm hoping to win the Turner prize.

Have you checked out the social security?

Yes, they think I'm dead. Oh, no, why? Basically,

because I told them I was dead.

I sent them a fax a couple of years ago

when they were after me for national insurance.

Henry laughing

look, it's Henry. Yes, Henry.

Oh, Helen, dear girl.

Allow me to introduce Veronica and Izzy.

They are the frontrunners for the vacancy as my studio assistant.

Well, have you considered Dave?

Dave who?

Oh...

So, I told Margaret straight.

I told her I felt no sense of misplaced duty towards her.

Well, that's just as well,

given that you and I are flying out to Australia tomorrow.

Yes. You're my future, sue.

You make me confident. You make me happy.

You keep my viral warts at bay.

To Australia.

Australia.

Both: To joy merryweather.

I trust that you'll be writing reams of purple prose about my discovery.

Well, provided you keep those cheques coming,

I'll write whatever you want about her infantile scrawl.

Please... her naive minimalism.

Yes, well, she must be naive not to realise how

you are screwing her on the takings.

Well, soon I hope to be screwing her in every sense.

Woman: 'Personally, I blame the teachers.

'In fact, I took my eldest, saskia, out of her last school

'because the headmistress there used to sometimes wear slacks.'

yes, well, I'm sitting here trying to devise a suitably witty riposte,

but I think I'm just going to have to call you a stupid,

stuck-up, old tart. Would you like to come back on that, lavinia?

'Well...' Well, you can't.

This is my show, and now,

my sexy and charming assistant is going to play some music.

Music: 'What becomes of the broken-hearted' by Jimmy ruffin

? as I walk this land of broken dreams

? I have visions of many things

? but happiness is just an illusion

? filled with sadness and confusion

? what becomes of the broken-hearted?

? Who had love that's now departed?

? I know I've got to find

? some kind of peace of mind. Maybe

? the roots of love grow all around

? but for me they come a-tumblin' down

? every day, heartaches grow a little stronger

? I can't stand this pain much longer

? I walk in shadows searching for light

? cold and alone no comfort in sight

? hoping and praying for someone to care

? always moving and goin' nowhere

? what becomes of the broken-hearted?

? Who had love that's now departed

? I know I've got to find

? some kind of peace of mind

? help me

? I'm searching though I don't succeed

? but someone look there's a growing need

? all is lost there's no place for begin... ?

That's all we've got time for.

This is Henry Davenport saying cheerio and sleep well tonight,

unless you're Jeffrey archer,

in which case, may you sleep very badly

and wake up with haemorrhoids the size of watermelons.

Applause

didgeridoo plays

siren wails

come along, then, Margaret.

Let's go home.

Plane passes

children playing, laughing

uh, what about this one, then?

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