Episode 5 Live at the Electric

This programme contains very strong language and adult humour.

BAGPIPES SKIRL

-Get this.

-Good weekend?

SCOTTISH ACCENT: Ach, not bad and thanks for asking!

Found I've got a bit of Scottish heritage on my mother's side. Dram of whiskey?

Real Scottish people drink it through their eye.

I know! Smart-arse Brit!

Agh.

-Please don't tell me you're a true Scot under there.

-Aye, I'm wearing

-the traditional nappy.

-That's not a thing, Tom.

-It is in my family.

-From the famous McHuggies clan(!)

-Never heard of them.

I'm a McLoughlin, hence the purple braid.

-Is this because the producer from BBC Scotland is coming on set?

-Is he? Hadn't heard.

-Couldn't get the Braveheart?

-ENGLISH ACCENT: They're all out.

-That's subtle.

Shut up, Tom, you're just nervous about there being so many Scots,

because you English... SCOTTISH ACCENT: ..raped our women

and banished us to live in swamps with nothing but talking donkeys!

-Shrek's a cartoon character.

-ENGLISH ACCENT: Yeah, but it's based on Alex Salmond.

Right. I'm sure this Scottish guy will forgive me.

It was all a long time ago.

Yeah, but unfortunately for you Tom...

SCOTTISH ACCENT: ..a Scotsman never forgets.

-We need to start this show.

-I know.

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Live At The Electric!

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

We've got sketches, characters and me,

the spiky-haired one with a healthy appeal to the Goth demographic to cover my mortgage.

Remember, I'm not really like you, I just pretend to be to pay my bills!

So I travel up and down the country doing stand-up.

I realise we're such a regional country.

We're almost afflicted by it. Essex people have Essex head disease, pulling themselves along,

with the traction of their Essex head. Yorkshire people are the best.

Any Yorkshire people in the room? Yorkshire.

-YORKSHIRE ACCENT:

-Actually it's got t'bones. I can't move.

It's actually a debilitating condition.

Finishes with them in a nursing home going "Leeds, Leeds, Leeds!"

Lindsey, my girlfriend, she's got full Mancinson's disease!

-MANCHESTER ACCENT:

-Ah-ah-ah-ah!

Just to be clear, before my social networks are flooded

with complaints, I'm not saying northern accidents are inferior.

They're not, they're better, more interesting, musical and lovely.

However, I cannot be the only one to notice that, when on holiday,

there is a prejudice against accents from the north of England.

You end up translating for the northerner you're away with.

I went away with Lindsey to Amsterdam.

You wouldn't think you could be misunderstood there.

Their English is off the hook. "Do some quadratic equations, I'll solve them in your language.

"Clogs, windmills, past tense, mofo!"

There may have been a stereotyping there. Hashtag-don't-complain.

Anyway, she just couldn't get breakfast to the room.

She was getting more wound up every day. It culminated with this.

She was trying to order just some toast.

How hard can it be? People from the north, I feel for you. This is how it went.

"Excuse me." Remember, she's got full Mancinson's.

# Wonderwall. #

-MANCHESTER ACCENT:

-"Excuse me, can I have some toast?" Toast is quite normal, isn't it?

-Toast. Still quite nasal, though.

-DUTCH ACCENT:

-"Was that toast?"

"Toast. that's what I said. But can you please make sure, because yesterday you forgot...

"Can you please make sure you bring...butter."

"I'm sorry?"

"Butter! Butter! You spread it - butter."

You know when someone is getting annoyed really quickly and repeating themselves?

It's funny, but it shouldn't be.

"Butter. You spread it. Butter!" "I'm sorry I don't..."

Then she started giving out clues getting further away...

"Toast, you spread it with a knife. Cutlery. Goes next to a plate!

"Butter! Butter! Butter!"

I picked up the phone and went, "Butter, mate." "No problem, two minutes."

The only other worse one was in Thailand. Who's been to Thailand?

You go thinking, "This will be culturally different.

"I won't even recognise anything. It's just so far away." It's not.

A country of people, quite introverted by day,

and wild and pissed up in the evening with a reverence for the Royal family.

Sound familiar, UK?

Anyway, we were there and there's one word you really need in Thailand,

if you're a pussy when it comes to food, and that word is "mild".

Right? You need that word to be understood, or you're going to be in trouble.

This is Lindsey. "Can I have a green coorry?"

Not "curry". "Can I have a green coorry?"

-Wonderwall.

-HE MAKES A NASAL SOUND

"Can I have a green curry, but can you please make sure it's mi-i-ild?"

-The Thai dude's head's going...

-MAKES SOUND OF EXPLOSION

"Mi-i-ild?"

-AS LINDSEY:

-"Mi-i-ild. Curry, mi-i-i-ild.

"Mi-i-i-ild. Mi-i-i-ild."

-And she went, "Not hot."

-AS WAITER:

-"Hot? No problem."

It's a shame, because it left her with a ruined bum hole and, for once, it wasn't my fault.

APPLAUSE

Moving swiftly on, ladies and gentlemen.

Now, to his family and associates, he's Peter.

But to the kids of Bullsmoor Youth Club, he's Pete,

because that, you know, makes him more approachable.

Obvos. It's Pete Swivel!

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

In 2013, a BBC documentary crew filmed the everyday happenings

of a North London youth club on Bullsmoor Lane.

Its name - the BYC.

Its leader - Pete Swivel.

Makes my bloody blood boil!

I've just caught more kids round the back, having it off.

I feel like I'm working in a fucking rabbit hutch.

I've got to take some action now. I've got the right arsehole!

Right, you lot need to know the devastating consequences

all this humpty-dumpty can have on you, right?

Have a look at the state of this.

LAUGHTER

-It's Anthony's dad, innit?

-Take me seriously, Darren, or get out.

Although it could be. Right.

Now, this lady was fresh-faced and full of life

until she got lured into the sex trade.

Some say no one's had more sausage than her.

Others say she should be kept in a cage,

which I think is a bit harsh, because she only bites when asked. Apparently.

She's very kindly agreed to come and meet you today.

Pat Porridge, everyone.

-Hello, everyone.

-Have a sit down.

Right, now, I know shagging is a very natural thing.

Depending on your boundaries, obviously.

As you can clearly see, the years and years of relentless banging,

have now turned Pat into an extremely acquired taste. No offence.

That's fine. Business is good.

No, I bet it is. I'm sure there's loads of pervs, I mean punters.

People who love this sort of thing. I bet you're rolling in it. Right?

But the financial benefits aside, right?

All this rumpy-pumpy has not just had a physical effect,

but an emotional one, as well.

50 years on Prozac has taken its toll on poor old Pat.

I'm 43, you cheeky git!

Oh, did you see that? Eh?

After all she's been through,

she's still kept that wicked sense of humour.

That's the class of the woman.

Right? Now, Pat's got a booking at one, so we won't keep her.

But, to sum up, the story of your life is etched on your face.

So just make sure when you get to Pat's age, it's not been a fucking horror movie.

-All right? No offence, Pat.

-None taken. It's been a pleasure.

-I like a good slasher film, anyway.

-What did I say? That's a bit near the bone.

What are you on about?

Well, for those of you that are not in on the joke,

slasher films are the ones where - for want of a better phrase -

people piss all over each other for kicks.

Er, no, Pete, it's a type of horror film.

Eh? Ah, yeah! Course it is, innit?

HE SNIFFS

What did I say?

They've heard the myth, the legend,

but actually seeing Pat in the flesh today

has struck the fear of God into 'em, I think.

Nothing I do here is without purpose. And it gets results.

APPLAUSE

CHEERING

< Pete Swivel! Right.

If you thought Francophile was an Irishman,

have this renaissance on us.

It's Marcel Lucont!

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

Salut.

Since my last televisual appearance, I've received many letters

enquiring about my past.

Ranging from the inquisitive, to the creepy.

Lucky for you, it is all here,

the first draft of my autobiography entitled simply 'Moi'.

I don't fuck around.

I do fuck around!

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT Birth -

my first time inside a woman.

My first ever word emerged from my mouth just seconds after my birth.

"Pourquoi?"

Although Father insisted this was probably just hiccupping.

By all accounts, he was too drunk to know, anyway.

As I reached up for a breast,

my father was doing the same to one of the nurses.

I learned quickly that shrill, insistent screaming

would result in breasts being presented to me immediately -

a technique which is sadly less successful for me nowadays.

One of my most early memories was on the steps of our old apartment,

aged seven.

"Father," I asked inquisitively, "where do the babies come from?"

"I don't know," he said,

panicking at what to do with the screaming baskets on the step.

"This one seemed to have arrived without a note, for once.

"Wait here, do not tell your mother, I will return in one hour."

And he quickly sped away.

My parents never married and Father refused to give Mother another child.

So she left when I was eight,

claiming she did not wish to put all of her eggs into one bastard.

At school, I was a disruptive child.

Partially due to my domestic situation, I suppose,

but largely due to me being better than all the other children.

By the age of ten, I could roll a cigarette with one hand,

while writing poetry with the other.

I shall never forget the words of my writing teacher,

"If you throw enough shit at a wall, some of the teachers will complain."

I was suspended for two weeks for what I did to that wall.

A dirty protest against Monsieur Leblanc, the filthy bastard.

Monsieur Leblanc was our physical education teacher, my nemesis,

a notorious pervert.

I believe his favourite sexual position was probably

the recovery position.

LAUGHTER AND GROANING

Ah, those formative years,

the innocent joy of having dirty feelings

for a 15-year-old Vanessa Paradis,

which we were allowed to do so, being also ourselves underage.

A rule not applying to Monsieur Leblanc, as he discovered -

soon suspended himself, due to the contents of his cupboard.

Vengeance was achieved. Yes.

Even at school, I knew it helped to have friends in high places.

Literally, in this case -

a boy half a metre taller, who could reach his cupboard key.

Monsieur Leblanc,

or Monsignor Leblanc, to give you your current title,

thank you for my first taste of revenge.

A dish which, like gazpacho soup, is best served to dicks.

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

HE GRUNTS

-What are you doing?

-2.5 metres. New record.

-Excellent.

Sorry, Tom, old Highland tradition - tossing the stapler.

Extra points for hitting a filthy Brit.

Ismail!

Wait until I'm ready!

Just piss off.

I just came to get those contracts. Have you put these in Gaelic?

Oh, yeah, sorry, you know what it's like. I slip in and out. To-may-to, tom-ah-to.

-McLou...

-You don't speak it, do you?

No, but I know all the swear words.

Not that I'd teach you, you English boot face.

You realise this BBC Scotland guy isn't going to care that I'm English?

-He's just going to care you're not doing your work.

-I don't care about him.

I am merely celebrating my culture.

-Jesus Christ, there's a snake in my drawer!

-That's Nessie.

She's a Scottish adder.

Bit me earlier, but, being a fellow Scot, it's had no effect.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

# Welcome to the make-up room

# The world of dreams and transformations #

I'm Linda, the make-up artist, and I'm an ugly person's best friend.

-Do you want to know a secret? It's my birthday.

-Oh, happy birthday.

And you're the only one invited.

Cheers.

SHE BLOWS BUBBLES THROUGH STRAW

JAUNTY MUSIC PLAYS

-MUSIC STOPS

-Ooh!

-Oh, what's it going to be?!

-Diamonds!

-That's mine.

-No, it's mine.

-That's mine.

-No, it's mine!

I found them in a dressing room.

MUSIC PLAYS

MUSIC STOPS Oh! Beautiful gems.

They're all mine.

No! They're mine, I'm winning.

MUSIC PLAYS

MUSIC STOPS Oh, me again!

SHE GASPS

Oh, God.

They said there would never be ads on the BBC.

Well, this is intermission impossible. See you after the break.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

SLOW MUSIC PLAYS

Maintain your guttering!

Guttering. It stops you getting wet.

Guttering. It stops you getting wet.

Guttering.

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

Now it's time for me to introduce our next act.

a lady so gentrified, that the only clue she's reached sexual climax

is that her jewellery starts rattling faster.

She doesn't come, she arrives.

Thank you. It's Chastity Butterworth!

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE Oh.

Oh!

Ooh.

Ooh. Oh, oh, good evening,

I am overjoyed to have been invited here.

I got a call from the producer this morning, asking me to come here

and just do something on the show,

which suits me rather well, as I'm actually a one-woman variety act

and, also, the water's been cut off at home and there are showers here.

Thank you. SHE LAUGHS NERVOUSLY

I've just come from my BMX lesson,

so I'm nursing a bit of a sore bottom, but,

what's new?

Ouch.

And speaking of sore bottoms, I was in my parlour yesterday morning,

practising self-restraint with a cupcake and a whip.

And I suddenly had a flash of culinary inspiration.

Why not make some kettle chips?

I'll tell you why not. It would appear

that kettle chips are not actually made in a kettle at all. No.

I found that out the hard way and now my kettle is fucked.

Thank you. Thank you. CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

I've written a poem for you. Pay attention.

SHE CLEARS HER THROAT

Naughty pig, nickname Pam.

Angry farmer,

tasty ham!

Thank you. APPLAUSE

Thank you, stop it, really. Thank you.

So I am married to a wonderful man named Horace

and we are perfectly suited, because Horace is a deeply,

deeply ugly man and, of course,

opposite attract.

Who, me? Oh!

We live in an enormous house with our darling cat, George,

and poor George has a fatal dairy allergy.

So, for his birthday,

I thought it should be nice to make him some soya milk.

However, it soon became horrendously apparent

that you don't make soya milk out of normal milk

and soy sauce.

Oops.

I found that out the hard way and now my cat is dead.

And don't be sad, he was a dickhead.

Now that George is dead, I have more time for my hobbies,

so, along with my modelling, ho-ho,

and part-time drug dealing,

I've also been on a play-writing course.

How hard can it be?

I'd like to share with you now a short piece I've written, entitled Outsider.

Thank you.

SHE CLEARS HER THROAT

MAKES REPEATED POPPING NOISES

SHE MAKES GASPING AND POPPING NOISES THROUGHOUT

SHE GASPS SLOWLY

That's a short play about a fish out of water.

Thank you so much. Thank you. APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

'For indiscretions, Dave has been forgiv'n,

'but Sharon still hates him and thinks he's a-dim.'

-Night, Mum.

-Night.

That was a sick night, fair Knave.

Aye, football, fighting and darts.

-Anyway, show yourself out.

-HE HICCUPS

He thinks I should decant myself in the spare room

and spare Sharonetti my fumes.

'Tis a shame, for I am hornier than a rhinoceros,

but to breathe Sambuca,

it would inflame the violence of her shots.

And yet,

in here, Sharonetti sleeps.

'Tis a code.

To let me know all is forgiv'n.

To remove her slip and slip inside at the slip of a moment.

OWL HOOTS

And now, firm love, sweetly with my stick of man rock,

for my balls are heavier

than a documentary about Anne Frank.

SHE SCREAMS

Oh, the treachery! Poison.

I am stabbed by the pork sword of thy pink warrior.

-You are quite literally a motherfu...

-Nay!

Ladies, driving my stake thus was a mistake. You, I thought it.

Lies. 'Twas all lust. He could not resist my new permed locks.

Sharonetti, that is false. Yea, I stuck my willy in your mum.

The pure intention was to bone you while you slept.

A blanket of honour covers this rager of untruth.

Your coffin is sealed shut, Daveutio,

and you have nailed it with my mum.

-Nailed!

-Nay, babe, think on.

I have but loved you twice.

By entering the thing from which you came out.

Out!

Pleasure with me have no more thought.

Now the pleasure has been in my mother's minge sought.

But I didn't enjoy it!

APPLAUSE

Thank you.

And now, a musical duo who put the word "filth" into the sentence,

"Oh, fabulous, some filth!" It's EastEnd Cabaret!

CHEERING

Hello, darlings, hello, hello. I am Miss Bernadette Byrne

and this is my half-moustached accompanist, Victor Victoria.

But darlings, I need some advice from you.

I went on a very strange date on Tuesday.

Oh, no, no, no, not Tuesday. Let's... We need to

-talk about something else.

-And we tried to work out what happened,

because the date was great.

We had dinner, we had lots of gin, and then he came back to our place,

and we started to fool around, you know.

Things started to get a bit heated.

So I went to the bathroom to slip into something a little bit more...

naked.

And when I came back, it was really quite...bizarre.

# He was lying on the bed

# He was naked, toe to head

# And his penis was the first thing that I saw

# With a member so enraged

# Like a beast had been uncaged

# I had never seen such rigidness before

# So I hopped on and had my fun

# In half an hour the job was done

# I got off, I rolled over and I saw

-# It was still hard...

-Psst!

# It was standing stiff and tall and proud and strong

-# It was still hard...

-Psst!

-# Well, you know...

-Bernadette!

I thought he'd be a quickie! I was wrong.

# It didn't seem to need a rest

# And I do enjoy a test

# So penis, I say to you "En garde!"

-# It was still hard...

-Ahem!

-Bernadette! No!

-# I got back on for round two

-# There was much work left to do

-No!

# And one orgasm is not enough for some

Oh, crap!

# But in rounds three and four and five

-# How is this penis still alive?!

-No!

# With all that sexing you would think the guy would come, you know?

# So I licked him round the rim

# And I stuck my finger in

# And I wiggled but the bastard didn't flinch

Oh, God.

-# It was still hard

-No, no, no!

# It mocked me with its bald and shiny head

# It was still hard - fuck, seriously?

# So defiant, like a flagpole on the bed

# So I put on some crotchless pants

# And I did a sexy dance

# Oh, penis, to you I say "En garde!"

-# It was still hard...

-I need to tell you something!

# I couldn't believe what I saw

# Six times and still it wanted more

# I showed it porno films and then Two Girls, One Cup

Is that still relevant?!

-# After seven hours straight I shoved a japple up his ass.

-What?!

# But this giant, ugly penis was still up

# So I punched it in the head

# Then I taped it to the bed

# But it sprung back up and slapped me in the face

No more!

Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!

-# I poked it, choked it Hit it with a leather strap.

-Bern!

# I flicked it, kicked it Even gave his balls a slap

# I humped it, pumped it

# Covered it in Deep Heat - feel the burn

# How do you like that? Blow jobs, hand jobs

-# Use my feet to rub it

-Please stop!

# Whipped cream, chocolate Shouted for the best

# There was nothing less I tried it all

-# And this erection would not fall

-Wait!

# How dare it mock me on my bed... #

Damn it! He was dead!

LAUGHTER

APPLAUSE

APPLAUSE

-Well.

-APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

That is... That's weirdly humbling, to have a song based on me.

LAUGHTER

If we've left you wanting more after the show, head straight to:

Or Nan, we'll scan the word "laugh"

and send it on a piece of A4 through to your fax machine.

For now, from me and the Electrolytes, goodbye!

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

I'm sure it's pretty similar to BBC Scotland, but that was the studio.

-SCOTTISH ACCENT:

-He's saying that was the studio.

There's the kitchen, where you can make tea.

He's saying there's the kitchen, where you can make yer English piss.

And that's basically it.

And now he's saying he's basically a massive butthole.

So I'll be in the kirn, if you have any further questions.

Sorry about him. I think he's trying to impress you

with the whole Scottish thing.

He was hoping you'd hate me because I was English.

Oh, right! I didn't even realise you were English.

Yep. Born and bred.

Anyway, just got to go and lock up the production office.

Take that, ya filthy Brit!

BAGPIPES PLAY