The Young Ones:OIL 2
BOUNCER: [tips Rick over, drops him repeatedly on his head] Sorry, Guv'nor. Tit for tat, I love London Town. It was at Violet's funeral. But listen, Guv'nor. This little pervert was bothering a gentleman and the young ladies while they
were shaking their booties to the ground. Know what I mean?
MIKE: Gentle as you can, Sully. I don't want the others getting upset.
RICK: Mike, you bastard!
NEIL: [coming upstairs, calls down] ...and next time, throw that paper out as well, Vvvyan!
RICK: Neil, help!
NEIL: No, I can't, Rick. Because now is the time for me to finish painting my astrological chart. [goes in his room]
MIKE: That'll do. [the Bouncer stops dropping Rick, sets him on the floor]
Sorry, Rick. But if I was to make any exceptions, who would respect me then? Would you?
RICK: Yes, well, I'm going to call the pigs, actually. Let's see what the pigs have to say!
MIKE: Oh, wise up, Rick. Look, this world is like a burnt steak. Small, tough, and the chips are always stacked against you.
RICK: You're always so pleased with yourself, aren't you, Mike?! Always think you're so bloody clever!
MIKE: Yeah. I've arranged for you to share Neil's bedroom.
RICK: What?! I'm not sharing a bedroom with that rubber johnny!
NEIL: Oh, uh, OK, Rick.
RICK: What?
NEIL: What?
RICK: What'd you just say?
NEIL: What?
RICK: You just called me a bastard, didn't you?! You better not, Neil!
NEIL: Oh, it's probably just the red paint.
VYVYAN: [runs in] Mike, I've struck oil! We're going to be rich! I found oil in the cellar!
RICK: Vyvyan, for heaven's sake...
MIKE: Easy, easy, easy. Spill the beans, and I don't mean in the tub.
VYVYAN: It's very simple. I was playing "Murder in the Dark" in the cellar, and I was getting really bored. So I thought, I know, I'll crack the floor with my head. And when I did, this huge spill of oil came out!
MIKE: Now, listen, this could be very big, I mean family-size. Tonight, we sleep on it.
VYVYAN: What, all four on one spurt?
MIKE: Son of a gun, we're going to be rich! House meeting, tomorrow morning, nine o'clock, in the broom cupboard. And, Neil? I want that one pound 50 by Wednesday, or another moose dies.
BROOM: And so he should, young Lucy. For we love it. The complete negation of our personality, the mind-numbing servility, the 18-hour work day. And we expect no reward but a staircase over our heads.
SPRAY CAN: Oh, dear, yes, Lucy. We love it. The personal abuse is our lot, and the further back you go, the better it gets. [Footsteps sound]
BROOM: Oh, no! The young lads are coming down to beat us. Everyone on your best behavior, or you'll have me to answer to.
NEIL: that's because this is where we keep the cleaning stuff, Rick.
RICK: No, it's not, Neil! It's because we only moved in here yesterday.
NEIL: Actually, I'm surprised that anyone except me knows this place even exists. Cause to you lot, I have as much importance as a, as a, uh....
RICK: Hippie.
NEIL: ...hippie. It happens to be me that does all the cleaning around here.
RICK: Moan moan moan. Boring. Just because you do a little bit of housework.
NEIL: What? A little bit?! All right. [knocks on the wall] House meeting, OK?
RICK: This is a house meeting, Neil.
NEIL: That's what I'm saying. Is it? Well, where's Mike and Vyvyan then?
RICK: They're late. We're only here on time because you kept me up all night, pacing around up and down and ringing bells.
NEIL: Listen, man. Sleep gives you cancer. Everyone knows that.
RICK: Listen, Neil. Do you know the difference between you and some number two's?! [pause] Nothing! [Neil sniffs and tears well up in his eyes] Stop crying, Neil.
NEIL: I'm not crying, Rick. I got some dust in my sinuses.
RICK: Well, that'll teach you to stop skiving on the cleaning then, won't it?
NEIL: Oh, no.
RICK: What?
NEIL: I'm going to sneeze, Rick.
RICK: Neil, no!
NEIL: I am. I am. I always do.
RICK: No!!
RICK: What the ruddy heck is going on?
VYVYAN: Shut your face, traitor! [Hits Rick in the crotch with the bat]
RICK: Hah! Missed both my legs! [grimaces]
VYVYAN: Shut up! [Hits Rick in the head]
NEIL: [picks a piece of gum off the floor] Who's been sticking gum on the floor?
VYVYAN: Silence!
MIKE: Gentlemen, good morning.
VYVYAN: Good morning.
MIKE: I'm glad you could all make it, cause if you hadn't, you wouldn't be here.
VYVYAN: Wouldn't be here.
MIKE: Now, what were you two doing in the broom cupboard?
VYVYAN: Good question.
NEIL: Uh...oh, yeah, we were having a house meeting, yeah.
MIKE: Impossible.
VYVYAN: Impossible! [Hits Neil with the bat]
MIKE: Because Colonel Vyvyan and myself held a house meeting a quarter of an hour ago upstairs. And, I'm afraid to say, under the new regulations, non-attendance at house meetings is punishable by death.
VYVYAN: Ha ha ha. Death.
MIKE: I would like to overlook this, but unfortunately, you two seem reponsible for certain other criminal activity.
VYVYAN: Ha ha!
MIKE: Namely, loitering with intent...
VYVYAN: Good one.
MIKE: ...conspiring in the broom cupboard...
VYVYAN: Brilliant.
MIKE: ...and damaging police equipment. [Vyvyan shows Neil the chip in his cricket bat.] However, I, El Presidente...
VYVYAN: [salutes] Viva El Presidente!
MIKE: ...I am prepared to give free amnesty if you behave like good citizens and dig up all the oil.
RICK: You fascist junta! [Vyvyan smacks him again]
MIKE: Look, you do want to be incredibly rich, don't you?
NEIL: Uh....
RICK: Yes! But why can't you go down to the cellar and dig as well?
MIKE: Oh, that is fab, Rick! That is fab!
VYVYAN: Fab!
MIKE: So when I shuffle off to see the Saudis, what do I say? Hello, King Fahd. I've got some oil for you. In fact, I've got a sample of it all over the front of my shirt! You wouldn't happen to have a tin of Swarfega lying around the palace,
your Royal Mightiness?! Wise up, Rick. He'd chop my hands off.
NEIL: Shhhh! Don't say that about the Arabs, Mike. You'll get us all into terrible trouble.
ARAB #2: I will see him now.
ARAB #1: Which bit of him would you like to see first?
VYVYAN: [stands, with the axe stuck through his head] That's OK, Neil. It was bound to happen sooner or later. [Collapses]
RICK: [leans over] You all right, Vyvyan? Vyvyan?! [pause] Great! This is it! I've been waiting two hours for this. It's a revolution!
NEIL: What do you mean, revolution?
RICK: Blood runs! Flags wave! Come on, everybody, throw down your tools and knock down the barricade. Come on, run into the Winter Palace. Run into the Winter Palace and stand on tables, waving bits of paper at each other! Yes! Yes!! Hello,
are you the Czar?!
NEIL: Right.
RICK: ...will rise up and seize control of the state! Brilliant! Revolution!
NEIL: Revolution.
RICK: Watch out, Norman Tebbit!
NEIL: It's the passage of time, Rick.
ALEXEI: [the band leader] This is the band Radical Posture, and my name is Alexei Yuri Gagarin Siege of Stalingrad Glorious Five-Year Plan Sputnik Pravda Moscow Dynamo Back Four Balowski. Me Dad was a bit of a Communist, know what I mean?
MIKE: You know you're the spitting image of our landlord, Jerzei?
ALEXEI: Yeah, he's my uncle, actually, you know.
MIKE: It's incredible! You're as alike as two peas.
PEA #2: Yes, it's just the sort of vegetablist comment you'd expect from an oppressive dictator.
RICK: [walks in, sees the band but not Mike] Well, this is it! The massive rock and roll benefit for the oppressed workers of the hou...[turns to see Mike] Hi, Mike! What're you doing here?
MIKE: Never mind what I'm doing here, who are they?
RICK: [feigns surprise] Blimey! Search me. Perhaps they're friends of somebody's, just popped in to play a, I don't know, play a rehearsal or something. Would you like to go upstairs and lie down in your room?
MIKE: I think I'd better. [leaves]
RICK: Great! Hi, Sputnik! [Waves to Alexei] Or should I call you "comrade"? You know the plan, don't you? Right, at the peak of the gig, you incite the masses to rise, and we burn the Reichstag! Well, we burn Mike's room, anyway. And
then, hey, presto, revolution!
ALEXEI: Stuff the revolution. Where's my 200 quid?
RICK: [pulls a chain of tickets out of his pocket] Oh, I'd better go sell some tickets, haven't I?
NEIL: No, I'm the oppressed workers of the house, Rick.
RICK: Yes, but this is a benefit gig, you know. And the tickets are 200 pounds each.
NEIL: 200 pounds? That's nearly a term's grant, man!
RICK: Look, Neil, this benefit is for you! This is in aid of you, to help you! And you won't even pay for it. God, how self-centered can you get! Come on, 200 pounds.
NEIL: I've only got 50p. [Hands Rick money]
RICK: [gives Neil a ticket] That'll have to do.
NEIL: Well, he'd better be good, this Norman Tebbit.
ALEXEI: [turns mike on] Whoooo, yeah! It's really great to be here at this benefit, actually. Whoooo, yeah! I'm feeling kinda whoooo, yeah!
Dr. Marten's boots of the world
What should everyone be wearing?
Thanks to Dr. Marten everyone will have warm feet
Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's boots
RICK: Boring! Don't you even know who's the enemy? What happened to the revolution?! God, you'd think "Devil Woman" had never been written!
MIKE: [walks in] What're you two doing here? You should be down in the cellar digging for oil! I hope you realize that all this loafing around has cost us one day of being incredibly rich!
RICK: [checks his watch] What?! Goodness, is that the time?
VYVYAN: [still trying to get up, in the cellar] By the way, it was a complete lie about the oil.
[A bouncer, dressed in a tuxedo, comes over, picks Rick up with one hand, and carries him out.]
RICK: Watch it![Opens Neil's door and bumps the ladder. Neil falls off the ladder, where he was painting the chart on the wall.]
All right, Neil, shut up! Before you say anything, I've just tossed a coin for who gets the bed, and you lost![Takes off his pants]
It's completely fair, and if you don't believe me, ask Mike, so shut up![Throws off his jacket]
Cause let me tell you. Me, Mike, and Vyvyan are getting pretty sick of you. [Sits on Neil's bed which has a lump under the sheets]
Why are the sheets all sticky?![Rick pulls back the sheets to reveal a deer head. Rick screams. Mike comes in.]
MIKE: OK, it may seem a little heavy-handed for one pound 50, but when I lend somebody money, I expect to get it back. You know what I mean?[Vyvyan and Mike leave. The screen tumbles and fades out.]
[SCENE: The screen is filled with a message like in silent movies. It reads "Tomorrow Morning, 9 O'Clock, in the Broom Cupboard. An Everyday Story of Life Below Stairs." A sponge, broom, and spray can are lying on a shelf.]
SPONGE: Ah, dear me, ma'am. Our whole job is to serve the young gentlemen and look out for them the best we can. But, I'm sure young master Neil do treat us very rough sometimes.[Rick and Neil come in the small broom cupboard. Rick sighs, checks his watch]
RICK: Does seem strange that Mike should call a house meeting in here. I mean, I've never been in here before.[Neil sneezes, and the door blows off in a big messy explosion. Rick and Neil stagger out.]
NEIL: Sorry about that. It always happens. [Vyvyan comes downstairs, wearing a crash helmet and carrying a cricket bat.]
VYVYAN: Here they are, El Presidente! [Pushes Rick and Neil into the living room, throws them down.]
Starting an insurgence! I'll teach you to try and assassinate the President! [Mike comes in, wearing a black leather trenchcoat and hat, chewing on a big cigar. Vyvyan salutes.]
El Presidente![puts it in his mouth]
MIKE: Silence.[In a thought bubble above Neil's head, two Arabs are talking.]
ARAB #1: Your magnificence! The British Foreign Secretary has arrived to apologize for recent press criticism, in which they alleged mandatory cruelty.[The screen tumbles and fades out.]
[SCENE: In the cellar, Neil is hard at work with a pick-axe, while Rick is just poking at the floor, hardly moving at all. Vyvyan is standing over them.]
VYVYAN: Get on with it, Rick, you big poof! [Kicks Rick aside and jumps in the hole, starting to pound with his head. Vyvyan and Neil alternate for a bit, then Vyvyan's head gets stuck in the hole, and Neil drives down with the pick-axe.]
NEIL: Oh, sorry, Vyv.[jumps up and down, excited]
Yes, I am, actually. [points a finger] Bam bam! Tough luck, fascist!![Neil takes out a tissue and starts waving it around]
That's what happens to people who aren't working class! Yes, Neil. Listen. I've got everything ready. In ten minutes time there's going to be a massive rock and roll benefit in the drawing room. And right at the climax, the oppressed working classes
of this house, that's you, mainly...[The screen tumbles and fades out. It fades back in to find Rick and Vyvyan sprawled in the basement.]
RICK: God! I wish they wouldn't keep doing that![Vyvyan stands up, throws up, falls down]
[SCENE: Mike comes into the living room, Buddy Holly's guitar flung over his shoulder, to find a band is already set up there.]
MIKE: Who're you? I'm coming in here to watch Postman Pat.[Two peas are lying on a plate]
PEA #1: I hate that expression. It's so patronizing.[Neil comes in, sits down on the floor. Rick stands at the door, laughs, but no one is there.]
Tickets!! Anybody! Probably stuck in a queue or something. [laughs, comes back] Uh, Neil, did you actually pay to get in?[pauses, looks at Neil]
Whoooo, yeah! This is really funky, it's kinda like one big empty room, yeah! We're going to do a number now that was a song in the charts recently about racial harmony. About black and white people living together side by side in perfect racial harmo
ny together on pianos! It might be a bit stupid, like, you know what I mean, but I know pianos aren't gonna solve nothing, you know what I mean? There's one thing that unites us, one thing that we all have in common, what is it? What is that one thing?
[The band starts playing, the lights dim, and Alexei starts singing and dancing wildly.]
It's not class or ideology,
Color, creed, or roots
The only thing that unites us
Is Dr. Marten's boots
So that everybody can be free
They're classless, matchless, ageless and waterproof
And retail for only 19 pounds and 99p
Those boots with the air-flow soles
And your boots will have a meeting
And your boots will take control
Thanks to Dr. Marten they'll be dancing in the street
No. Don't You Want Me.
OK, Boots. Do your stuff!
Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's boots
Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's, Dr. Marten's boots!