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It's Throat's last day.

Retiring?

Dying.

He's only got two weeks to live. Can't sell any more.

Voice gone.

Upset because he wanted to die on the knocker.

There GOES a salesman.

You a manager, then?

I do the music. She's my girlfriend.

Don't you mind?

I want her to stop. But I can't find work.

What do you do?

Mix music.

Lot of call for that kind of work, then?

No, it's an interest.

You'll have to support her, son.

What about selling? Look at me, I made it.

And I've got a glass eye.

All right, all right. Bloody hell. I'll take my bra off.

The fuck with that.

Get off me. Don't touch me.

Go on away, you bastard.

Quiet, please!

Thank you, my dear.

And thank you to the generous soul who booked this striptease for Throat.

We'll all miss you, sir.

Get any coin we're owed and get out of here.

I'm black and bloody blue from these bastards.

Leads have been shared and the week is nearly through.

All that's left now is for me to say a few words.

You have a floodlight inside.

It is as big as your body.

And when you think you're through. And you've done enough.

There is the trigger to turn it on.

And, BAM! Take them by surprise! Dazzle their eyes!

They will stand in your beam and they will buy.

You have a purpose. You have a mission.

Your next sale is lying there behind every 'No, thank you' that you receive.

Like a diamond, it is there. Waiting, glinting. See it.

Reach for it. Have it.

Go for it. You can do it.

You can do it because YOU are SALESMEN!

As you know,

The companies have thrust us up to our elbows in the Treasure Chest.

An outstanding product. Unrivalled commission packages. And now,

And now, they are pouring prizes upon our heads.

I'm talking top salesman...the two week booty in Benidorm.

The Golden, The Golden Vac.

Speed on, come through, roll out those vacs. What are we in?

The greatest game alive.

You got it. You got it.

High five it, high five it!

We are in, we are in, we are in, we are in.

He's dead.

I'm sick of this job, sick of it.

- Well, you don't have to do it no more. - What are you going on about now?

-You don't have to do this work no more. -Oh, no. No, no, no. Not this again.

You're off in your own little world, aren't you? Hi-Fi-ette.

Where's the coin coming from?

- I said I'd stop when you got a job. - I got one.

I don't mean mixing cassettes for the teenagers down the lane.

It's not nothing. I got myself a job.

See what it can do. We are the attached.

It's got a mind of its own, this little rascal.

Watch it gulp. Light, light, light as a long balloon.

He can't hold it, Tommy. - What?

He can't because his hand is withered.

No, but she can, can't she?

Well, sit down, sit down, sit down. Go on.

Go on, you've worked hard, you deserve it. Sit down.

Have a bit of cake. Finish your tea.

Right.

There now.

Easy.

Light, hmm? Light, you'll agree?

And yet, it's got a powerful suck on it, too.

Turn it up full, you'll have Australian shoes in the room before you know it.

Not only that, it'll do your furniture, your curtains,

Your ceilings, your corners, under the cooker, over the door.

Over the door.

Crevices cringe and cry when they see this coming.

I couldn't say that again. It wouldn't sound, not with my teeth.

No, it'll do you the absolute lot, this.

Mr. and Mrs. Tucker. If I may...

Lorna and Edward. If I may...

Lo and Ted. Have it.

Possess it.

Go on. You know you want it.

- We like it. - We can't afford it.

Can't afford it? Can't afford it.

Don't give me that. You can if I lop a hundred off.

No, no, no, no, no, no. Don't agree yet. Do not agree yet.

Because I really, really want you to have this machine.

I'm going to swallow. I'm going to lose.

I'm going to take it and I'm going to to lop another fifty off.

So you can get out and get yourself a slap-up meal on me.

- Ta. - Sign here

I'm not going. 'Til you do.

There. 'Tis yours. Beauty, isn't it?

Leave it there in the middle of the room.

Look at it a while before you use it.

Tarrah, must dash.

- Ciao. - Tarrah.

- Listen you, never, never interfere when I'm selling. - He couldn't hold it.

- He's got his other hand, doesn't he? - No.

Well, he can shove it up his fucking ass. I don't care.

- We're moving vacs here, pal, not doing physiotherapy on him. - Okay.

'He can't move it, Tommy.' When I was on my first round...

If I'd come in with piss like that...

The old salesman I was with would have took me outside...

And kicked me hard on my face and he'd be bang on right for doing it and all.

Lesson Number One laddy-boy. If they waver,

Seize the dithering bastards. Don't give them no quarter.

Here, let's have something for the road in there.

- Do you live in here? - Usually. Pass me that there.

Got to if you want to be number one.

- What, you sleep here all the time? - No.

- Sometimes motel or Ruby's. - Who's Ruby?

You are new, aren't you? Ruby the showroom slag.

Here, pass me that Puffa Puffa rice. Quickly!

Rule Number Two. Always start the day with a good breakfast.

- No thanks. - What, you don't have one in the morning? - I don't smoke.

- Are you a fucking health freak or what? - No.

- You don't smoke? - No. - You'll have to give that up.

What's your favourite football team?

Who's your favourite Page Three?

What do you like then?

Dance music.

I don't play. I just write but I mix it a bit.

Tell me something. What, what's your name?

Pete.

- Pete. - Pete. Tell me something, Pete

How'd you come for this job, you?

I was at your office meeting with my girlfriend. Weren't you there?

Tommy don't go to them.

Too busy selling to listen to losers get pissed and talk about selling.

Anyway, they all fucking hate me there.

- I met Sidney there. - Say no more. Press Gang Sid.

It was the night that Throat died.

Throad died? I didn't know. Did he leave any leads?

Too late, those jackals will be going for his stomach even as we speak.

He was almost gone when they took him on. Desperate bastard.

No other company would've touched him in that state.

Could've sell him my mum in the fucking end.

Listen, Pete. I don't want to disillusion you, mate,

They take on any twat. And I mean any twat.

Train them for two days and if you don't perform, scratch them off right there.

Not me, I'm going to make a real go of this.

- All right. - It's the greatest game going.

Yeah, the same to you, you fucking bum bandit.

Bit of luck if it's a road race to get you going every morning.

Better than caffeine.

- So, you've got a bride, then. - Eh?

- A girlfriend, you said. - Oh, Sheila.

- What's she do then? - Eh?

The bride.

- Nothing. - Nothing? - Yeah. - Oh, sponger.

No, no, she was the one who was working.

- What does she do? - Strip-o-gram.

- Heh? - Strip-o-gram.

I thought that's what you said. Fuck me, a stripper.

- Strip-o-gram. - You got a picture? - No.

- Stripper, eh?

French Maid? Traffic Warden? St. Trinian's?

Wee Ride?

- Quick pit stop. - Eh? - My flat.

- I thought you... - I don't fucking sleep there. It stinks.

Come in. Make yourself at home Here, have a toss.

Who the fuck's that?

Hello. You owe me money.

It was my lead, you prick. I fucking found it for you, you know it was.

Don't fucking argue back.

Yeah, I'm up for Salesman of the Year. Friday night. Golden Vac.

They saddled me with this swot of a trainee. Holding me back a bit.

No he's not listening. Are you? Are you listening?

Too busy looking at my knob, I think.

Come on. Bring a vac or two.

Rule No. Three: Always have a vac ready and cocked in case of a quick sale.

- Can I put the radio on? - No.

I'll put this tape on that I mixed.

No. You can have a motivation tape on though. One I made.

Got woofers on this car, you know.

'Sell, sell, fucking sell. Sell, sell, sell, sell.'

'Sell, fucking sell, sell, sell, sell, fucking sell, fucking sell, sell, sell.'

Watch out, watch out.

SELL!

Don't sell no bookends. We don't factory shift no more.Two fucking miles an hour.

Get out the way. I've got things to do.

So, do you think you'll get it then?

Eh?

The Top Salesman of the Year. Two weeks in Benidorm.

I'll kill myself if I don't.

People say: 'What commission do you want?'

And I say: I don't know, I don't care. I'm on kamikaze commission.

Ours is to sell or die.

No one would do what I would do for a sale.

No one, no one sifts where I sift. Except that Rottweiler in Blackpool.

What's he called? Pockmark. He does some.

You should see him. Looks like Jack Palance but with skin of an alligator.

He does some. Otherwise, they've no chance.

They're all behind me. They're so little in the distance, they make me sick.

Anyway, they come too close to me, I'll bite them.

- I've got to wee, I've got to wee. - Oh, for fuck's sake.

It'll do your absolute lot. An amazing machine. Locks so hard to the ground.

It'll go right round your seals, around your wheels.

It'll do your carpet. This will get any bit of grime. It'll just suck it up.

It lifts the felt, lifts the mat.

Go on get over there. You there. Now hold that.

Now look at that. Look at the strength of that. It's amazing.

It's not heavy at all. Look, little finger. Look at that.

This is the strength of those wheels. You can even do your lawn with it.

Now look at that.

Like a balloon, look.

Look at that.

- Bye. - Bye-bye. - Bye Tommy.

Quick detour to base.

- Do you know what it's like to work a place where everybody hates you? - No.

Invigorating.

Come on.

Blue.

Pink. Wrong.

- Nearly. - No where near.

Who cares. I get a look.

Cock-a-doodle-doo.

Where's the chicken house gone?

I'm not sure. Nobody tells me anything.

Only last week, this was the chicken house. Three old broilers on telephones.

Smoking like chimneys. Taking calls for leads between coughing fits.

I used to put my head in the door like a rooster.

They'd all squawk and squeal and call for the manager. It was only last week.

They've knocked it all into one.

Look at it. It's socket city.

Bloody hellfire.

Who's this?

What was that? Stone Cheeks?

Why do I feel like twenty pairs of frozen high heels walked over my grave?

It's Uki. She's here to set up a website and internet for us.

I know.

FishnetInternetStockings@CyberKnickers.

ForILaptop/YouLapBottom.co.uk.org orgy.bennyhill.tits....com. Great.

Now then, what's the latest? How am I doing?

- All right. - Anything else?

Tommy, not harassing my staff again, are you?

No, Mr. Ron. Just discussing with Stone Cheeks the latest gen on the Golden Vac.

Just thinking about what to move on my mantelpiece. What sun tan oil to buy.

Arrogance.

It's not all over yet, Rag.

Did you not see the latest pile the Bond girl took through there?

Doesn't mean you're a salesman.

Sales make a salesman.

- I think there's a bit more to it than that. - Than what?

Than a spieler who operates without any ethics. Doing anything for a sale.

At least I'm honest.

About what I do and how I do it. Not like the rest of you hypocrites.

Walk in this place these days, you got to watch you don't skid on the smarm.

'Tis yours. 'Tis yours.

- Hi all. - Hi.

Pete. Remember, the other night? You gave me Throat's place.

How're you doing? Keep it up. Nice to see you.

Who the fuck was that?

And what's the idea of putting me with that lame health freak.

What do you mean?

In the last days run up to the competition. Holding me back.

Was returned as not suitable material.

You're returning him, are you? If you can't cope, I'll send him with Randolph.

Oh, no, no, no. Send some more if you want. Do what you want.

Tape a piece of dog crap to my cheek, I'll still sell more than all of you.

Chain a cannonball to my leg, I'll still win.

And have the chain, the ball, and the fucking cannon thrown in to the bargain.

You think you've got all the answers, don't you? With your big mouth and...

Your outdated bloody, bloody blunderbuss tactics.

Now, now.

You will see.

No, I won't. You don't like me but you like my results.

You'd sack me if you could but you can't.

So doo-ron-a-ron, adieu, Ron-Ron.

Bugger me, you live here?

Where? I don't see habitation unless you're Top Cat.

- Let me off. This one here. - Where's the house?

Next to the boarded up one here.

Well.

I thought mine was bad. You are poor.

See you. Workhouse.

- You all right. - Just Clayface was there again.

- She's always there. - She's always staring. - She's mad.

I tell her to fuck off and go and be Claywoman in an American comic book.

Anyway, how did it go?

- Good. Good. - Good.

Good? Is that it?

Come on. I want to know how you got on.

You're back early.

You've not been sacked, have you? Because I'm warning you,

No, I got dropped off.

- By the bloke you're with. - Yeah.

- What's he called. - Tommy Rag.

Is he all right?

He's great. Nice bloke.

He'll be the first salesman that is.

You need more gumption than this, Pete. And I've got an idea to give it to you.

Come here, something to motivate you to the top, like a rocket.

Remember: Pussycats.

Not 'til you've made your first sale.

No, 'til you've made your first sale.

Come on, Workhouse.

- What's Rule No. Four? - I don't know.

What's Rule No. Four?

I don't know.

Rule No. Fucking Four, pal is don't piss around keeping me waiting.

Seconds lead to sales. Pockmark could've had his Puffa Puffa and be off by now.

If you're not there next time, I'll fuck off and leave you.

Here.

Get that suit on if you want to be with me.

Go on.

It's an old one but it's a favourite so don't shit in it, all right.

And out go the rags. You won't be needing those again.

My clothes!

- So, I was wondering... - Yeah?

- Can I sell today? - What? - On my own? - Go on.

You want as many sales for Benidorm. You can have mine but let me make them.

You give me commission or you can share the commission.

Go on then. Sell in there.

One thing,

Poor areas like this - get out when you're done, they're clean-cooked.

Rule fucking whatever, take no sob stories, no hesitation.

As quick as you can, withdraw. Get out like a spent knob.

Boot!

Twenty weeks. Two pound twelve.

- Yes? - I'm here to make life easier. Something I'd like to talk about.

Come in.

Dreadful cold, isn't it? I've not got the fire up too high, I owe all over.

Sorry it's such a mess. It's hard when you're on your own with four children.

It's a vacuum, see. Can I plug it in?

If you like, there's a whatsit somewhere.

The other one broke. Someone took it to fix but he never brought it back.

- It does everything. - That's nice.

This place could do with a good going over and right through, it's a mess.

It's fearful hearts keep the house going. I've fearful little coming in.

My grandma offered to take photos of me to send to one of them filthy magazines.

You get paid.

There was a woman three streets away, was one of them reader's wives.

People still ask her for her autograph.

Who'd want to look at me in my fearful condition?

Granny says there's a magazine called 'Bony Bints' or something, that might.

I don't know. She's looking into it for me.

She knows from her boyfriend. They call him Barbecue Harold. Do you know him?

No. His fingers are like burnt sausages. Been in too many pies.

I don't know how she lets him near her. I don't really.

Where would we take them? Every room in the house is like this: humble & shit.

- Who'd want to look at a nude in such conditions? - This'll help you clear up.

My grandma did it in the '50s. I have a photo of her somewhere.

She's sitting astride a rolled up carpet in a kitchen.

The place is not bad but you can just see a bike wheel and washing up in the sink.

- Where is it? - It's all right. About the cleaner?

- Okay. - Eh? - I'll take it.

It's very nice and from what you said, it should do the trick.

I bought some books before off a man off the door.

There they are over there: Kings and Queens of England.

Never looked at them. I don't read well.

But a bargain's a bargain, and as I say, it's nice to know they're there.

And there's my tick, my telly and sky.

I find when your benefits come in, all your debts go at it like pigs or hogs.

You carry on.

But I'm fearful honest about my debt. Whatever it takes, I never miss.

We've been on gravy and bread and I've never missed my catalogue.

Only me.

- Who's that? Your boss? - Yeah.

Let him in.

Hello.

You're signing then?

It can help me clear up.

Just sign. He'll fill in the rest.

I want it clean for my pictures.

- Pictures? - She's posing nude.

To send off.

I know about that.

I've got a camera if you want me to do it. A camera in the car.

What poses were you considering?

No, it's okay. My grandma's got one you don't need to send off to the developer.

Fair enough. Enjoy your vac. There it stands, 'tis yours.

Look at it a while before you use it. Beauty, isn't it?

- 'Tis yours. - Goodbye.

- You did it, well done! How's it feel? - I feel great, I've sold it.

What are you looking for?

- I want to see your camera. - Camera? I ain't got one.

-You told her... -I'd have made one from the Puffa Puffa box to get a free look.

She'd not know the difference.

Anyway, probably use my digital.

Sad cow.

Right, onwards.

You're on your way, Workhouse.

Hey, come back here.

You're no longer the virgin. Now you've done your first sale, it's your exams.

- Go through the rules! - Um, er, rule one, give no quarter.

Rule two, good breakfast. Three, keep vac cocked.

Four, seconds lead to sales. Five, act like a spent knob.

- What's Rule Number Six? - Come on, what?

Rule Number Six: There are no rules. You've passed, see you, Pete.

I've sold. I've sold, d'you hear?

I've sold.

Did you sell?

Yeah.

- The music. - That's right.

Come through.

Hurry. Hurry.

Cat wants her milky cream.

I can't.

- Have I done something? - No, can I come in?

You can't afford it.

I've come to take it back.

Now, it's my last but you have it. Not the kids, you. All right?

Hey mate, you haven't got the time, have you?

Sorry.

Loser.

Sheila?

Sheila.

No.

Sheila.

Sheila.

Clayface, where is she?

Fucking hell.

1950.

1926.

1945.

The lady downstairs has collapsed in there. She's in there all...collapsed.

And then, there was fire. Put it out. I kicked the door. Oh God, I didn't know.

She's still lying there. She's in there - dead!

Dead I tell you. Sheila's gone.

My Sheila left me.

I was in the street.

I went in there. You came. I don't know what's happening.

Say something.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Say it. Go on, say it. Docious-expi-ali-fragilistic-ali-super!

You're late!

You've got a partial picture of the 1966 England World Cup Squad on your forehead.

The late Bobby Moore and a quarter of Martin Peters, if I'm not mistaken.

And on your chest, the Apollo 11 mission.

In your navel, could be half of Diana Dors, could be the Millennium Dome.

Then on each thigh, a serious suffragette and three Prime Ministers.

And a zeppelin on the shin.

You're a veritable tabby-eared & scorched scrapbook of the 20th century.

I don't want to know why. I don't want to know how.

I've entered into Monty Python's missing sketch. I would just like to remind you...

That today is the day of the night the competition winner is announced.

And, as a consequence, all hands must be on deck. All stops must be pulled.

- So, get your flipping ass in gear! - How?

How can you talk like that? When she's gone, GONE!

She's left me and, God I know, she'll never come back!

And she is lying there!

Christ. Clearly no sale in here.

Another Stone Cheeks bites the dust.

Well, at least she's dead. Could be worse.

Ill people make me sick.

We'll have to phone an ambulance.

- Bit late for that. - Police.

- Can't we just leave her? - Oh, no.

All right, all right.

But we're wasting valuable time here. Pockmark'd leave her to the rats & mice.

I hate these fucking things. Electrified Mars bars.

I short them on a daily basis, you know.

They won't work for me. I've got too much electricity in my brains.

Come on.

Life. Like that. All gone.

What's it all about?

I had a dream last night, Workhouse. I had a dream.

Came over the hill and black and white people were having it off.

No?

Can't we cover her up?

Come on.

I do have a dream.

I saw that oriental bint from the office.

She was, like, walking on air.

She was pushing a vac and that was, like, on air.

And then she walked, like magic in her trail, left smart young girls behind.

Taking into mikes at their mouths, like Madonna.

Whole face is aglow from the computer screen.

I couldn't get it. It was seductive, as if something was being gathered.

Softly, guided in.

Not like my selling. Not like the selling we know and hate.

At the last computer screen, she stepped in, and I went in after her.

It was a tropical beach. Blue sky, sea,

It was more than that. More alive.

Like heaven.

Somehow I felt like my work was done. There were no more vacuums left to sell.

And when I looked, she'd gone.

The vac was all alone on the beach. Gold, it was.

Glittering in the sand. And I was going up and down the beach with it.

I think it was plugged into the sun, or something.

It felt odd, at first. But no fever, the fever was gone.

Then I wasn't used to myself.

I'd all opened up inside, like a flower. It was so beautiful.

I started crying.

There were tears everywhere. I was completely nude.

I was vacuuming - completely nude - in Paradise.

Workhouse, get upstairs, get the 20th century off you, and get dressed NOW!

- Which service do you require? - Emergency.

- Which service do you require? - Emergency.

Which service do you require? Please, which service do you require?

- Hello? - Emergency. - Hello?

This day is going nowhere.

Come on, I'm losing ground. Feels like my heels are in a pillow.

I know.

Where are we going?

To a sale that's nearly made.

I'm a venacous stroke away and if I'm having it today,

We're going to see the Spaniard.

Adios, Tommy.

Why'd you do this? We're not Spanish.

We are somewhere. We've got tango blood, and jet black hair.

Your hair's gray.

You've been like this since the salesman came. Told you had a Spanish look.

He only said that to sell you a vacuum cleaner.

You're just jealous.

It's all to get a sale.

El rubbish-o.

Buy one then.

I shall when I am ready.

And I know what you did upstairs.

He was just giving me a demonstration. That is all.

It's all to sell.

Oh, shut up!

At least he comes. Nobody comes for you, do they, you fatty virgin.

Thomas!

Spaniard.

Here it is. And the little white bull.

Can we just try it upstairs on the carpet again?

You know, before I make my final decision.

If we must.

If we must.

- Have you warned him she's slow? - He's not so quick himself.

Are you that salesman's friend?

Do you like my legs?

They feel heavy.

- Do you know a chocolate rep called Terence? - No.

He was her friend before. Her milk-train man.

- I'm touched. - Oh?

Do you want a drink?

Coffee.

Pour us two glasses of that shan-grilla.

- Oh no, I forgot the sangria. - Never mind it.

I trust you're signing today.

Let us leave it until later. I want more, Tommy. More, Tommy.

More. Oh, Tommy, more. More, Tommy.

You're sad, aren't you?

I am. Yeah.

I can tell moods.

If I show you my bra, will it cheer you up?

I always wear a sexy one.

It's big though.

Never mind us. Get back on.

She is a belle.

Darling!

Adios. Adios, Tommy.

Conquistador or what?

Anything, anything, anything, anything for a sale.

What's happening to me? What's happening to me?

- Shut up, or I'll fucking hit you. - Go on then, kill me. I want to.

- What have I done? - Go in the dash, there'll be something in there.

I don't want to end up with a fucking tart. I fucking hate you.

Listen you!

I'm going to give you once chance to pull yourself together.

If you don't fucking take it, I'm fucking off and leaving you, right?

I shagged a slow girl.

So what?

Now, tonight's my night. The Vac of Gold.

I'd have taken it but I would have taken it in style.

With a handful of sales still in my hand.

- What was that? - Hitchhiker.

No, it's not, you blockhead. It's an opportunity. Never miss an opportunity.

I've sold to hitchhikers before now.

Left them two junctions later clutching their vac of their very own.

Not knowing what the fucking darn deuce has gone on.

Hello, young man. Your lift is here. Come in.

- What's your name? - De Kid. - Hello, I'm De Tommy Rag.

- You're a salesman. - How'd you guess?

No one else is so loud in the morning.

- And now what do you do? - Guess.

No, I'll give you a clue: No one sits when I'm in a room.

You a Royal?

- Close, I'm a deejay. - Oh, are you, I stand and cheer.

- Where are you going? - Blackpool.

We're going there tonight. Big prizes. What are you doing there?

A gig.

He's doing a jig what like you like.

His bird's dumped him.

She was a stripper, you know. Look, before you get settled in.

How do you go about cleaning your carpets in the home?

- I ain't got no home. - Where d'you sleep?

Hotels, motels, audience, car seats, back streets, settees, teepees,

Warehouses, shithouses, or, I stay up all night.

- Where are you from? - I don't know.

Bloody hell, I've picked up Oliver Twist.

All I know is I'm Northern, I have no carpet, and I have no ma.

Our vacuums do other things, you know.

Right. Maybe I could sample them and set them off in Ibiza!

- Big fish, little fish, cardboard box. - Big fish, little fish, cardboard box.

- Nine hundred vac. - Vacuuming completely nude in paradise.

I haven't got time for this, thank you very much.

Speaking up, pal, take no offense, I'm not going to sell you owt, fuck off.

Pit stop. You coming?

See you, J. Edgar. Hoover.

Did he mean it?

I mixed a bit. I was learning myself, like, bedroom deejay.

- Who taught you? - The crowd. - Right, oh yeah, right.

How did you start?

There was an old deejay selling a big clunking 1970s disco twin deck. 50 quid.

I sold my bike for 60, bought it, and with the tenner, I got three records.

They're all out for ages. I wore them thin. I took the pads off my fingers.

Smooth as marbles.

Police can't arrest me now. Unidentifiable, except,

By my music.

Then I did a gig. And one gig went to another gig to another gig.

To gig, to gig, to gig, to gig.

I'll do whatever comes. Basements, clubs, warehouses, bar mitzvahs!

It doesn't matter what I have to start with.

I can get from Amazing Grace to Abba to ambient to arthouse.

Before they know what's happened. I mix up a potion. I make them feel better.

I guarantee to get the most miserable twat at the wedding up and trancing or,

Your money back!

- Do you make a living? - I only want money to open my own club.

Your own club. What's it going to be called?

The Ark.

Everybody's welcome. It'll never close. You can stay in there 'til you feel safe.

To come out again.

Can I ask you something, De Kid? Can I?

- Will you listen to my mix? - No.

I can't hear a thing without the people.

Tell you what though.

I'll play it for you tonight. At least you know it's been danced to.

I'll give you a secret.

Silence is loud.

BOOT!

Hit Stone Cheeks with these before the witching hour.

And then I insist you accompany me to Blackpool and the great giveaway show.

Workhouse, my old love, we're riding to Blackpool.

To Mecca. Metropole Hotel on the front.

Swung by to pick the girls up.

And the sad end, I've no one else to bring.

Hot Pot came, too. See? She's not been out for years.

She came for I told her you were coming.

Anyway, I'm the goddamn winner and I want some champagne.

Get on the dash there, go on.

There is none.

- Is there not? - No.

- Is there some hotel miniatures? - There are.

Near enough.

Come on, smack them open. Let's celebrate.

What will you do if you lose?

I will win.

- Spaniard, want to hear my speech? - Si, si, si.

Mr. Ron, and all the rest of you scum.

I'd like very much, very much like to thank you.

For without your rejection and wish for me to topple.

I would not have made it to the lounger in the sun I will soon be occupying.

Or to this exalted height I hold as best fucking salesman in the universe ever.

Bravo!

You thought I did it alone. I did not.

You don't know how much you helped me climb that ladder.

Your hatred was the rungs. Each stab in the back made Tommy scurry up higher.

Each time Stone Cheeks had a lead, I took off, scavenged, dug up ten of my own.

So ta, a mighty ta, to all you rats and mice at the good old office.

Chance was also gold. Did they announce that?

Little Alf's dad down the street when I was a nipper. Alf's dad, the salesman.

He sold Flying Saucers.

Like soft, perfect, almost paper sweet, they exploded in your mouth.

Oh, when the sherbet lay in the back of your throat.

He came out with, tossed them, tossed them, we caught them.

Pale pink and green and yellow, flying through the sky.

And thanks must go to my dad for showing me the mug's way so early, so clearly.

Coming home in filth, working all the hours God can spare, for tuppence.

Beat, bad-tempered, broken.

And thanks to him, also, for making me hate to hesitate.

Little me, upstairs in bed, while he hit mum downstairs.

One more time. I'd say, one more scream, and I'm going to get the poker.

But I didn't. I've never hesitated since. Never crushed up my grit, since.

Should've broken his dirty, oil-stained fingers off at the door.

And I thank him for his face, when I came home after a few hours spieling.

They're wholesale, darling. I don't want your ten pounds, don't want your five.

Put your notes away. I don't know what's come over me.

8/6 for the lot. Now hurry up before they cart me off to the loony bin.

And I'd throw a wad, ten of his wage packets thick, on the kitchen table.

And my mum, he couldn't look at her.

He couldn't finish his food because I'd beaten him - with success.

And so I'd go on beating him for I do not lose.

And finally, thanks most of all to the suckers I've mugged through the years.

Who have left dizzy and light of pocket with something they never needed.

With a 'tis yours, 'tis yours, 'tis yours!

Oh, I am so proud.

Your growth and the company's growth, fueled by honesty, HONESTY!

We have had a stupendous year so far. We are riding high as one of the top regions.

Fucking hurry up, I want to get abroad.

And so, without further ado, let's find out the winner.

I'm going to ask one of our brightest female members of staff,

To be so kind and do us the honours and read them out.

Please welcome Uki, the head of our new Information Technology department.

The final nominees for the Golden Vac awards are:

Tommy Rag,

Throat,

- And Randolph Dalline. - Pockmark.

Pockmark.

And the winner is...

The winner is Ran..., sorry, Pockmark!

And in second place, it's a tie with Throat and Tommy Rag.

Winner, winner!

Stone Cheeks!

What are you doing?!?

Pervert!

Where's Ron-Ron? Where is he?

- I'm not telling you. - You fucking better!

Why? What would you do?

Punch you in the vagina!

What the hell, I owe him nothing. He took Suzy Wong for a walk down the prom.

Talk about the future. Big changes. This is going to be the last competition.

But no one knows it. You know, he reckons with her help,

They can clear twice as much on the cyberhighway as you on the tarmac one.

It's "Death of the Salesman".

Never mind all that shit. What happened? What fucking happened?

- Your sales were one short. - NEVER!

Yeah? One of the sales was nulled and the vacuum was missing.

Workhouse!

What about Throat? How could I have a tie with a dead man that couldn't talk?

I can tell you. What do I care now that he's got his geisha.

As you got closer and closer to winning, he got more desperate.

He started a scheme to get the others to donate sales to the 'Throat Memorial'.

Not strictly allowed but he's the boss.

Honesty, heh?

Honesty.

Big fish, little fish, cardboard box!

Big fish, little fish, cardboard box!

Yes!

Listen, watch your music do the work. Behold!

My music!

Come on, one time only.

I can sell you this. I can sell vacuums. The vacuum salesman!

It's time. It's a one off for every bargain.

All appliances thrown in. Soles included.

My life's work. The bag is full of Australian shoes.

Lodged in my flesh and blood.

WORKHOUSE!

Steward!

And Tommy, you're sacked.

Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter!

No one was listening in the beginning. Now everyone's listening.

I know!

See, see!

I knew you were someone to watch.

Sea! Do you want a vac?

Hoover your bottom!

Take up all the jewels and wrecks and rotting sailor boys!

I'll do you a massive deal, Sea.

I'll knock off twice as much for you, Sea!

May I call you Briny? May I?

Come on, come on, you want one.

You know you want it. Come on, you must, you must have one. Come!

Take it.

Hey!

You don't have to vac my heart up.

I can taste blood.

Tommy!

And Flying Saucers.

Tommy!

Tommy!

Tommy!

Tommy!

Tommy!

Tommy?

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