School-based sitcom. Alfie is wracked with guilt when Miss Pickwell's suicide note lays the finger of blame on him after one of his class's pranks pushes her over the edge.
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MUSIC: "California Love" by 2Pac Feat Dr Dre
-Isobel? Hi, it's Chris Tarrant here from Who Want's To Be A Millionaire?
-We've got your friend Malcolm here...
-'An elementary mistake, rookie,'
I have no friends.
But I do have a very particular set of skills,
a set of skills that make me a nightmare for people like you.
Hullo, Isobel! It's Malcolm here.
My million pound question is...
Is Miss Pickwell, A, the demon headmaster in drag?
B, Rose McWest?
C, Andy Murray's mother?
Or D, an angry Scottish chicken?
THEY LAUGH Chicken, chicken, chicken!
MUSIC: "Chicken Dance"
This programme contains adult humour.
Now, Miss Pickwell has gone missing.
She's done a Klaxons and vanished without a trace.
I don't want to point the finger,
but it seems chicken-gate may have something to do with it.
-Mitchell made me do it.
-You egg him on.
That boy brings pranking to a new level, right.
The other day, he locked Joe in a cupboard, then recorded him
screaming for help and set it as the ringtone on Joe's own phone!
Can't change it. Classic Mitchell.
Back to Isobel. The 5-0 have found her car
on the Severn Bridge, Bristol.
They're afraid something might have happened to her.
Well, I wouldn't worry - they've stopped burning witches,
even in the West Country.
It's a note from Pickwell.
"If you're reading this note, I am dead."
Oh, my God!
"I am dead.
"I've jumped from the Severn Bridge.
"But don't blame yourselves.
"There is only one person with blood on their hands - Al...
"He is my least favourite pundit on Match of the Day
"whose name is Al-lan.
"I way prefer Al-lan Hansen. The end."
She clearly went completely insane.
I know. Shearer's amazeballs on MO-TU-DUH.
Ironic, too, jumping into a river.
Shearer hates players that dive.
It's too soon.
Thanks very much, guys.
HE IMITATES A PIG
It's a clingy smell, isn't it - bacon?
These suicides don't get any easier.
That's the fifth teacher that's...
HE IMITATES GUNSHOT
Since I've been here. Still gets you.
It's just such a shock.
Well, thank God, it's not like poor old Mr Rawlinson.
I mean, an orange in the mouth is weird, but a papaya?!
Where do you even buy a papaya?
Poor little Jeremy Goss found him.
It has been a battle trying to get him to eat his five a day.
Fraser, erm, Isobel's position...
Obviously, we could never replace her -
-she was deputy head of hearts...
-But this school needs a Camilla
and that is the ugly truth.
So, whilst I find someone full-time, I'm going to need an interim deputy.
Someone with people skills, respect from the student body,
a feminine touch...
-Miss G, you're hired.
-Oh, wow. Me? Me?
Re-interviewing for the permanent deputy head role, I'm going
to need another set of eyes.
Rosie, you'll be busy inter-rimming. Alf?
I guess it is quite important that we find a
permanent replacement pretty pronto, before the power corrupts you.
Now, what to tell the kids about this mess?
-We should tell them the truth.
-But suicide can be very distressing.
Let's tell the children a little white lie, so as not to upset them.
And then the bear just ripped her face off, with one swipe!
-Blood bath. Face everywhere.
The paramedic found her eyebrow up a tree!
In other news, tomorrow is Morocco Day.
This fez-tival has to be tagine to be believed! Thank you.
INDISTINCT GHOSTLY WHISPERS
'There is only one man with blood on his hands. (Alfie Wickers.)'
-Help! Help! Let me out. I'm afraid of the dark.
Seriously, please don't leave me in here.
Can you please tell me how to change this ringtone?
-Haven't you finished that yet, babes?
I'm just too upset about Pickwell.
Oi, Pineapple Studios, want to know what happens at the end?
-If you dare...
-The boy and the girl both...
HE MAKES HIGH-PITCHED SOUND What happened?
Nothing. You look well scared, Sir.
Did you see your in-growing penis again, Sir?
History. History's all about dead people,
so, hypothetically, do you think that ghosts exist?
They don't, right?
I believe that when we die, we go to Liverpool.
Yeah, only if you've done some messed up shit.
Trust us. All the dead people
talking through Derek Acorah always have Scouse accents.
I thought I seen a ghost once, when I was having a sleepover at Mitchell's house.
Turned out, it was just his mum in her nighty trying to haunt my cock.
Just cos your mum looks like someone drew eyes on a scrotum.
-I hear your gyppo mum does palm readings with a happy ending.
Enough! Someone's died.
Can we just give a little respect?
Thank you, Jing.
Although, I did also hear that about Mitchell's mum.
Do you think Miss Pickwell's going to come back as a ghost?
Wh... What? No. Why would you say that?
Joe, you don't believe in this ghost nonsense?
Well, I thought I did, cos this one night, my room went really cold.
Turns out, I just left my fridge door open.
You have a fridge in your room?
Only for essentials like water, cheeses,
OK, so say someone did see a ghost, hypothetically...
..what does it want from me?
To put its unquiet spirit at rest.
What, like in that film where Jing walks out the telly.
Oh, you can watch scary movies now?
The boy who cried in Toy Story 3.
Didn't cry! I had something in me eye.
Why do I give a shit if Andy's going to college?
Why did he have to leave Woody behind?
Rem Dogg's right. If you want to make your peace with Pickwell, Sir,
you should put on the most sha-mazing memorial ever.
We can make it just like Whitney's! Hashtag - "Queen of the Night".
You think that would work?
If making my peace with Pickwell's unquiet spirit is what
I wanted to do, hypothetically.
-OK, right, well, obviously, I'm not being haunted by Pickwell,
but let's put on a memorial anyway.
Why do you even care, Sir? Pickwell was a right bitch!
She might be listening.
Black velvet drapes, people. We need it looking like Phantom by break.
Oh, and I want doves.
Aren't doves for weddings?
Black doves, babes.
I ain't ever been to a funeral before, but in the WWE Survivor Series,
right, The Undertaker comes out of a coffin, choke-slams Randy Orton,
and then finishes him off with a tombstone piledriver. Why don't we just do that?
I mean, the reasons are literally endless.
Can you just sort out the flowers, please?
What do I know about flowers?
-I swear your sister once sold me some roses at the traffic lights.
-Whatever Dickers, she's got a proper job now.
Hmm, holds a bucket while Daddy washes the windscreens. LOL!
Rem Dogg is asking the art department about Pickwell's portrait?
Great. Can you tell them to go easy on the
whole menopausal, child-catcher vibe.
I'll find a picture of her smiling.
Good luck, that's like finding a picture of Sir watching One Direction without a boner.
Yeah, or a picture of you with your real dad.
Guys, chillax! Music-wise, memorials scream Candle In The Wind.
Ah, perfect. Download an Elton John best of.
We're going to needs loads of emotional music. Ah, like that one from Gladiator.
You know, the one that he has in the dream.
# Na-na-na-naa. #
Please stop. What is it called?
I don't know, why don't you just Shazam my singing?
# Na-na-na-naa. #
Oh, my God. Stop!
I'll Google it!
HE CARRIES ON SINGING
Oh, thank God, it's you.
-What's with the hair?
Oh, it's a very practical style.
You do realise you look a bit like Pickwell?
-No, I don't.
Now, I need you to come in at seven tomorrow for early detention.
Look, I went over this with Pickwell like a billion times.
I'm a teacher, I can't be put in detention.
No, I need you to supervise it.
Well, that's even more stupid.
At seven o'clock in the morning, babe I'll be down the gym,
pumping iron like a lion in Tring Bannatayne...
And I'm hoping you'll conduct this in a good spirit.
I know you didn't get on, but she deserves a dignified memorial.
Oh, I wouldn't worry about that.
Here's the music you wanted, Sir.
MUSIC: "Theme From Gladiators"
It's the wrong Gladiator!
To clarify, we... We won't be playing that.
Remember, I'm planning this memorial, so this can't take long.
Sure. Hey, before each interview, should I do a short monologue,
a few topical jokes?
Fraser, these are job interviews, not Chatty Man.
-Where did you find all these people so quickly?
Advert on Gumtree.
For many moons now, I have been the humble scribe of
He also plays the lute!
Sorry, you know this man?
Met him at Canterbury Market, selling porn from a barrow.
Hmm! Egad! The Pink Lance!
He calls himself the Porn Baron.
Oh, but tarry, fair quent-beavor.
What quim-foolery maketh thy lady of the lake wet?
And you want to become a teacher because...?
To be honest, mate, it's just not selling.
MAGAZINE RIPS OPEN
So, your name is Mrs P-hi...? Piss...? P-hi, P-hi?
Good. A-and your first name is..?
Your name is Gay Phistor
and you want to work in a school full of teenagers?
On your way out, would you mind sending in Mr Mark Skid?
Can you tell us why you were
dishonourably discharged from the armed forces?
It was Afghan, night...
I was on guard at the camp gates.
Car charges up. Draws level.
I see a figure in the passenger seat reach for something.
Split-second decision. What would you do?
Shine a torch?
Open fire. Bang, bang!
Was it the Taliban?
The Sugababes. They were there to entertain the troops.
I'm the reason they changed the line-up.
Mutya, right between the eyes.
If you don't stop running, I'll hobble you quicker than you can say,
"Very steep, secluded, concrete stairwell in a CCTV black spot."
Mr Wickers, Mr Fraser, don't you have classes to go to?
We need to get a new deputy head ASAP.
I liked that man who looked like Professor Weeto.
Right, as I said to him, Gay Phistor and Pat Fanny,
you can't teach in a school with a name like that.
The kids would destroy them.
In that case, don't go bat-shoot cray,
but I'm going to ask Miss Gulliver to apply for the job full-time.
Who put wind chimes in the corridor?
My bad. I thought they'd lighten the place up a bit.
It's very deathy round here at the moment. Are you OK?
Yeah, yeah. I'm... I'm fine.
Oh, that's a parental cluster F-word waiting to happen.
Oh, I just heard from the family,
Isobel's funeral is going ahead at St Bartholomew's.
So, we should send a representative, show our respects.
I'll go. Please let me go. I'm definitely going.
Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
Sorry, erm... I'd actually like to say some words myself?
If... If you must.
Thank you, your honour.
We are gathered here today to remember someone very, very special.
Someone that will be truly missed.
Not now, Joe.
Let me say this - Izzy...
HE CLEARS HIS THROAT
Yes, yes, he is dead.
But in many ways he is not dead,
because we will all remember our dear old friend,
whose name is...
..Old Captain Birdseye.
That's a little nickname amongst mates.
Fishy fingers himself.
Let's raise a glass
and toast a life that was tragically cut short by, erm...
A fight in a pub...
A cross trainer...
Milking a cow?
Drink driving! Yes! Of course.
That's how he died.
So, let's raise the glass of water or orange juice,
May the force be with you.
Hey, instead of me interviewing you, why don't you interview me?
To prove that I'm an enthusiastic leader that can take
control of unforeseen situations?
Something like that.
Why did you want to become a teacher?
Ah! Good question, Parky.
I fell in love with teaching
when I saw that beautiful Robin Williams film.
Dead Poets Society?
-Good Will Hunting?
I decided to go back to school to acquire the skills needed to
build a green, shape-shifting energy source that would help me
win at basketball.
Mr Fraser, if you don't give me this job, I'll be forced to
explain to the governors why Abbey Grove is awash with these.
Queefs Of The Nunnery. The Knights Of Cumalot.
"As Arthur did up his chain mail, Guinevere was dallying with
"a circle of mysterious wizards from the east - The Bukkake Coven..."
Okey-dokey. Let's talk about your pension plan.
Stop blaming me, Joe. Fraser said it was happening at St Bartholomew's.
He didn't say it was happening next Thursday.
(You go, I'll take this.)
HE CLICKS HIS FINGERS
Get in there now!
On my way.
I haven't got any money, you've already stolen my watch
and the last time you wedgied me, I swear you fractured my guiche.
I miss her so much. Why did she do it?
It's not your fault, Frank. It's no-one's fault.
Right, now, you go out there and if anyone asks you what you was doing,
you... You say I was in here wedgy-ing you.
In fact, wedgy yourself now, yeah? just in case.
I'm not going to do that.
Come on, you know I give 'em better than that.
(Help! Help! Help!)
Oh, my God, major probs with the memorial, Sir.
Doves don't come in black. I had to improvise.
We blacked up some pigeons, Sir.
What? This is Pickwell's memorial, not Jim Davidson's.
Oh, my God, they look like they've been in an oil spill.
That box is minging. It smells like my nan's flat.
I think the boot polish made them a bit poorly. Funky pigeon.com.
By the way, guys, you look amazing.
I look like Steve Jobs.
This memorial's going to be so great.
Definitely going to get Pickwell off my back, right?
Sir, you do realise that it's highly unlikely that you're being
haunted by Miss Pickwell?
I don't know why she'd bother haunting you, Sir. I bet she's lappin' up hell,
probably down there now trying to get Stalin to sign her tits.
Oi, big guy. Don't be upset, we all miss her.
It's not that. I've lost my phone.
My mum's going to kill me!
It's all right. It's probably somewhere really obvious.
I'll call it for you.
-PHONE IN COFFIN:
-Help! Help! Let me out. I'm afraid of the dark.
Seriously, please don't leave me in here! Help! I want my mum!
Miss Pickwell made me try harder at the things I love.
Because she was always on my back,
I can now smoke a Vogue in 30 seconds.
I remember when she told me I was in this wheelchair
because I'd sinned in my previous life.
BOTH: Classic Pickwell.
Miss Pickwell asked me to negotiate for her during some trouble
she was having with a syndicate of Chinese bookies.
She'd been unable to honour her debts after losing
thousands of pounds in illegal cock fights.
We became fast friends.
-Grow a pair, Rylan.
It's all just too emotional.
Hashtag - YOLO.
That's all it says.
We will now all observe a minute's silence for Isobel.
MUSIC: "I'm Still Standing" by Elton John
Stephen! This isn't Candle in the Wind. Turn it off!
# I'm still standing after all this time. #
Calm down! Stop pushing.
Everyone, make your way to the exits!
Everyone sit down! Please!
HE IMITATES A PIGEON
Hey! Oh, that's lovely.
God, Isobel sure went through some styles.
Sorry for being tetchy earlier.
Isobel dying, well, it's affected us all.
I know. It's weird, you know.
I found her so annoying, but now she's gone,
I realise I kind of loved her, too.
It's the Crazy Frog all over again.
No hard feelings?
Oh, I better scoot.
Oh, if things get too much for me, I unlock the art block,
stick on Magic FM and just do something creative.
You should try it.
-And welcome to Magic FM and have we got a line-up for you tonight?
Starting with the '60s classic from The Righteous Brothers.
Unchained Melody. Here we go.
MUSIC: "Unchained Melody" by The Righteous Brothers
# My darling
# I've hungered for your touch. #
Get away, get away, get away.
Calm down, Mr Wickers.
You're a ghost! Ghosts can't speak.
No, I'm not a ghost.
But you're dead. You died!
-Well, could a ghost do this?
-Could a ghost do this?
Can ghost do this?
OK, I get the point. You're not a ghost.
But how? Why?
Well, because I didn't commit suicide, Mr Wickers.
But, do you know how bad that note has made me feel?
No, but I... I have enjoyed imagining it.
Tarring and feathering Isobel Pickwell will always have consequences.
Now, listen to me carefully, I need your help.
OK, but can I wash my face first?
I feel like I've received a money shot from Morph.
Your little chicken escapade gave me the perfect alibi.
Fake my own death, cash in my life insurance
and get out of this hell hole for good.
Where will you go?
Well, I've got a pen pal in Argentina.
A German gentleman. I can't reveal his true identity,
but he goes by the code name of the Beast of Bergandor.
Yep. He's a dentist, ninety odd, very courtly.
Yeah, I'm... I'm really happy for you.
But, where do I fit into this?
I need a thousand pounds.
A thousand pounds.
That's like my life savings, and, anyway,
why would I give you a grand?
Because you're the only person that wants to keep me dead.
Unless you'd like me to return to the school?
Cash or transfer?
Done. Money's in your account.
You know, you're going to be missed. Even Frank Grayson was devastated.
Yeah, most def, most def.
He may have got the idea from somewhere that, erm,
he might have a little blood on his hands, too.
Right. How many people did you personally blame for your death?
Hmm. About five.
Yeah, I like to have a few plates spinning.
-Yeah, see which one breaks first.
Actually, erm, thank you for that memorial, Mr Wickers.
Well, it was quite the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!
In fact, I've only ever really dreamt of such a scene
whilst sitting knickerless on my tumble dryer.
Why do you have to leave me with that image?
No-one must ever know of our pact, Mr Wickers.
I trust you, Alfie.
Do not lead the guards to me in the garden. Yeah.
Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd
Abbey Grove is rocked by the news that deputy headmistress Miss Pickwell is dead, and Alfie is left particularly on edge when her suicide note clearly lays the finger of blame on him after one of his class's pranks pushes her over the edge. Haunted by guilt, will Alfie be able to put her unquiet spirit at rest with the perfect memorial service?
With Pickwell gone, headmaster Mr Fraser decides to advertise for her position with less-than-successful results, which may mean Miss Gulliver is offered the role full-time. But will the power change her?