Broke Rab C Nesbitt

This programme contains some strong language

This is it, Ella. End of an era.

-All it needed was tax and insurance.

-And wheels.

Wheels would have been nice.

We had a dream, Ella, and now it's being crushed.

I feel really sad, don't you?

Naw. I don't feel sad.

-I feel...

-Anger is an emotion I understand, believe me.

As Minister of Work, I'm angry about the broken Britain left behind by our predecessors.

I'm angry about the millions of our citizens being caught up

in a degrading poverty trap.

Aye, away ye go, yer bum's all fluff, ya two faced midden, you.

See that Chingford Steel?

I'll tell you, if I could get my hands on him, I'd... Rab?

Aye, I hear ye, Chingford Steel blah, blah, blah.

Hate, blah, blah, blah.

Look at you.

Time was you would be throwing that telly oot the windy,

listening to a greasy fly man like him. What's happened to you?

I gave up my psychosis to spend mair time with ma family,

but God knows why. You're all mair doolally than I am.

Now, if you don't mind, I'm trying to use the en-suite here.

The en-suite?

How many mair times(?) It's a plastic basin.

-When we're in the bedroom, it's the en-suite.

-TRICKLING

Ah well, please yourself.

Just remember, I use that basin for washing my dishes.

Ooh, I don't know what's the matter with me.

I used to have a bladder like a circus tent.

I'd guzzle pints all night with never once going to the lavvy.

Well, ye are getting older, Rab. Pretty soon you're going to be 60.

I know exactly how old I'm going to be.

It's just, well, a lot of men die from prostate cancer, don't they?

More die with it than from it, Rab. Prevention.

You should go and get yerself checked out noo, eh,

while we still have a health service.

Aye, you're right. Prevention.

Where ye going?

I'm away to empty the en-suite.

I think the best thing to do

is just have a good grope around up there and find out exactly what's going on.

If you'd just like to remove your trousers and pants, please.

Aye. Oh, er, eh,

when you say "we"...

Yes, that's right.

Unless having a woman examine you makes you feel uncomfortable?

Naw, quite frankly, hen, the gender's immaterial.

It's the digit up the sphincter that's bothering me.

You're in safe hands. I'll be gentle with you.

Eh...

that's a scorch mark, by the way.

It's nothing unsavoury.

I've seen worse.

If you'd just like to lie on the bed and pull your knees up to your chest.

All right, on the bed.

Oh, I know. Rather than her than you, eh?

Sticking her finger up my flue.

There could be pie suppers lodged up there from the summer of love.

Right. This won't hurt.

HE WHIMPERS

During his whistle stop tour,

Mr Steel is visiting some of the poorest areas of Glasgow.

This is Govan, on the Clydeside. Annie, how old are you?

I'm 32. This is my boy Snoop Dug. He's six.

-Ma, can I get a lend of your teeth a minute?

-See, you!

-Thanks, ma.

-See, weans?

-Hello!

-Jesus Christ!

-Chingford Steel. Minister for Work.

-Did you say work?

-And you are?

-You'll have to excuse my china.

He's having a wee coma.

He's awfully fond of the crack.

FRENZIED SCREAMING

Christ! What a dream.

I dreamt I woke up and the angel of death was hovering over me,

offering me a job!

You know I came here years ago when I was in opposition.

Back then, I felt your pain.

Now that I'm in power I'd like you to feel mine. How does that sound?

Eh, yes, I'm phoning about the advert in the...uh-huh.

60 hours a week for half the minimum wage.

Oh, no, that seems very fair.

Well, if the other 40 people in front of me change their minds,

then you know where I am.

'Thank you very much for your stringent question.'

Let me reassure you, the economy is safe with us.

You see, any redundancies in the public sector will quickly be mopped up by the private sector.

Ah was the private sector!

And I'm on the fuckin' dole!

Look at the state of me. I've been man-raped.

I've got an arse on me like a screaming skull. Hullo, Mary?

-Hi, Rab, how d'ye get on?

-'I'll just come right out and say it.'

I have a soft prostate.

I see.

-Help me out here, is that good news or bad?

-'Good.'

If she'd telt me I'd won stunner of the year competition

at the Scottish Hard-on Exhibition, I couldnae be mair delighted.

DOORBELL Oh, Rab, hold on. There's somebody at the door - I need to go.

I'll see you in a wee minute.

Then I'll bend ower the kitchen table and you can see for yourself.

-Oh, aye, I'll look forward to that.

-Aye. Cheerio.

-DOORBELL

-This must look like a shabby photo opportunity,

which of course it is,

-but at my age, one does tend to suffer from Politician's Bladder.

-THEY CHUCKLE POLITELY

Yes?

Hello. I'm the Minister for Work.

I was wondering if I might use your bathroom, please?

-Be my guest.

-Thank you so much.

It's, er, actually feeling that gaping way, you know?

Like if somebody yodelled up it, there'd be a bit of an echo.

Though, why anybody would want to yodel up my jacksie...

-'Scuse me, mate, do you know who lives in there?

-In there?

Aw, naw, I couldn't tell ye. Nae idea, nae idea.

-Does he owe you money?

-No.

Oh. Well, it's me. What the hell d'ye want?

The Minister for Work went in there 20 minutes ago.

-Could you let us know what's going on?

-The Minister for Work?

-What's his name again?

-Chingford Steel.

-Chingford Steel?!

Aw, in the name...

God, almighty!

Rab, I'd like you to meet the Secretary of State for Work.

-What the hell have you done to him?

-I hit him with the frying pan.

He's a respected Member of Parliament!

Did he try and pump ye?

-Naw, he just came in to use the toilet.

-Oh, right.

Ah well, so long as ye had a good reason.

Well done, constable,

that's another dangerous urinating man aff the street!

-Rab!

-In the name o' God, woman, I thought I knew you.

How many other cabinet ministers have ye got stashed under the floorboards?

Look, it was just instinct, right?

I thought of that wee business that Ella and I lost,

and before I knew it I'd banjoed him.

Give me that bloody thing!

That woman hit me.

She bashed me over the head with a blunt instrument!

Aye, don't worry about it, it's just, er, Govan for hullo, you know.

-I'm calling the police!

-Here, you, sit on your archibald.

-I'm Teflonned up here.

-Do you know what you're doing?

You're threatening a Government Minister. Is this your wife?

Look, Shrek, tell her to let me out of here before there's serious trouble.

Tell her? I telt her to iron a shirt for me in 1982 and I'm still bloody waiting.

Iron your own shirts.

Hell and my nipples will freeze over first.

-You sit on your arse!

-Don't be stupid. Do you know who I am?

Oh, we know exactly who you are.

It's you, and your type, that have cost me my job!

You're no helping yourself here, Mary.

-Listen, we can still talk our way oot o' this.

-How?

Well, the judge'll understand.

I mean, if you get a Cabinet minister in your living room,

it's only human nature to want to batter his brains oot with a frying pan.

I'm just saying, concussion must be a way of life to you boys.

On the contrary, I've been lucky enough to deal with civilised people up until now.

-I haven't had to use this once. You know what this is?

-BEEPING

-This is a panic button.

-ALARM

-Rab! Listen. What we gonnae do?

-Don't worry,

we can blag our way oot o this,

-using wur native wit and cunning.

-Oh, yes, that'll help(!)

But first, I'll gie him another banjo with the frying pan. Shut it!

SIREN WAILS

Rab Nesbitt! This is Inspector MacLean of Strathclyde Police.

We have officers deployed around the building.

All the man wanted was a pish. Could you no' just have handed him

the en suite and a J Cloth for his shoes?

Don't shout at me, Rab. I'm at my wits end.

Oh, calm doon! You'll be all right.

< Give yourselves up. Come out with your hands on your heads.

What'll we do, Rab?

-Should we just go quietly?

-Are ye kiddin'?

This is a siege here!

This is Strictly Come Dancing for scum.

I am not giving up the limelight till I show them my paso doble.

Sir, he's got a gun!

Haw, youse! Keep that bloody rammy doon.

I'm on the night shift here.

I'm daein' 40 hours a week in a kidnap to keep you bastards in work!

And then I've got my serial killing at the weekends!

Away and pay some tax!

-Er, psycho alert, sir?

-I think so.

You know what, Mary? This is the best I've felt in years.

-How d'ye mean?

-Well, I've got my mojo back.

-Once a nutter, always a nutter!

-Oh, Rab!

Fill me in, Inspector. What have we got?

The Minister's been held for two hours, sir.

-The kidnapper has a table leg.

-I see. Is it loaded?

It's a table leg, sir.

You can't be too careful. These things can be bored out

and reactivated as lethal career-threatening weapons.

I got a look at it, sir.

It's early B&Q, possibly late MFI.

It's unlikely to be a firearm.

Why not?

Well, it's bow shaped, sir.

He could have got bendy bullets off the internet.

I can't take chances. This could be a terrorist attack.

Summon armed support.

Right, sir.

< Nesbitt, is the Minister unharmed? Repeat, is the Minister unharmed?

They're asking if the Minister's unharmed.

That's more than you'll be once they've got you in the back of a black maria.

Oh, shut it, you.

The Minister is unharmed, apart from mild concussion

and a Bonnie Scotland dish towel rammed into his gub.

Repeat...dish towel in gub. Over!

< What are your demands?

Repeat, what are your demands?

Mair questions. It's like applying for a Crisis Loan.

They think we're terrorists. Gie them some of the jihad patter.

Ho, infidel. You are a running dog lackey

of the hated capitalist system. And by the way,

your 34 bus service fae Govan to Castlemilk is ganting.

We hear your demands. We will give you a better bus service

between Govan and Castlemilk.

I know, he's a bam,

but we need to humour him.

The response unit's on call, sir. We'll have every armed officer

in the west coast of Scotland here in no time.

Are they bringing the new Tasers?

Aw! That was gonnae be a surprise!

Where is the Minister?

Is he tied to a radiator?

Repeat, is he tied to a radiator?

He's asking if the Minister's tied to a radiator.

Are they kiddin'? We're on white meter.

Who can afford to run central heating in the middle of the afternoon?

Say we're new to the terrorist business. We're working wur way up to radiators.

-For now, he's cuffed to one of my bentwoods.

-Ah, bugger it!

I'm playing the radiator card! We might get new central heating out of this.

Haw youse, see me? See my wife?

We're fanatical, by the way.

And we want to tie the Minister to a radiator,

but wur fanatical central heating is Donald Ducked.

We want a new boiler...

and make sure that's fanatical, tae!

What the hell... ask for a heated towel rail as well.

Oh, aye, and a fanatical heated towel rail. Gas or electric, Mary?

Gas. I like to light my fags aff the pilot.

Gas, by the way.

And don't forget the one year fanatical homecare plan, an' all!

-How goes it, sir?

-Scum bastard.

He's asking us to install a new central heating system

so he can tie the Minister to a radiator.

This could be our chance.

If we can get an armed officer disguised as a gas fitter in there...

Steady. Could be a Health and Safety issue.

We'd need a hit man who was Corgi registered.

Fair point, sir.

Nothing else for it, we'll just have to string them along.

Anything else?

Repeat, anything fanatical else?

They're asking what else we want.

A job.

-How about the overthrow of the hated capitalist system?

-That can wait.

-I wannae get a new mobile phone for Peaches's Christmas first.

-Oh, aye...

Ho! My wife wants to overthrow Western democracy.

But first, she wants a wee cleaning job over Christmas.

I'll see what I can do.

And I want a Lamborghini and a silk shirt with the double cuffs

just like Jason King out of Department S.

What imploding brain cell did that spring from?

Please ask for some food, I'm starving.

Oh, that's a good idea. We could send down one of your ears,

we might get a free five minutes' shopping in Aldi, eh?

On second thoughts, I'll settle for a smoothie.

-Rab, ask for terrorist food. That'll keep them on their toes.

-Aye...

Ho, we're Arabs, by the way.

So send us up three fish suppers.

Arabs don't eat fish suppers.

Halal fish suppers. And a bottle of halal Irn Bru.

That should keep the deception going nicely.

Yes, fiendish in its simplicity.

Oh, for fuck's sake!

-What is it, Rab?

-There's armed polis all roon' us.

Well, you're dealing with the big boys now, so lots of luck.

Are we dressing for dinner?

Amazing how much better you feel after a good nosh, innit?

I feel as if I could take on an army.

You may very well get your wish. Hear that?

WHIRRING OVERHEAD Helicopters!

Aw Christ, it'll be Cruise missiles up the U-bend next.

You've no eaten your dinner. I thought you said you were hungry.

Hungry, not suicidal.

I'm sorry, I wouldn't put this in my bin, let alone my mouth.

You're helluva good at starting sentences with, "I'm sorry,"

before you go on to rip the pish oot o people.

You'll be sorry when you start your sentence -

about five years, give or take.

That lip is gonnae get you cleaved again!

Ah, put the bloody thing doon. You're utensil daft.

I'm really sorry, I'm just tetchy.

I'm cold, I'm scared and I'm dying for a pee.

No, Rab, don't let him up. He'll make a run for it.

I have a prostate problem. I need to go, a lot. It's my age.

How old are you?

60 next birthday. You?

60 next birthday.

Makes you think, dunnit?

I thought I'd be PM. Instead, I've ended up in the Department of Work.

How sexy is that? What about you?

Rab's religious. It helped him gie up the drink.

I've been dry for three years noo, but...

well, sometimes I've got to admit to myself...

without a fight, a lost weekend and a projectile vomit,

life's hardly worth a candle.

All this talk of drinking...

may I use your bathroom, please?

Nah, nah. You're no leaving this room, boy.

-You can use the en suite.

-Where's the en suite?

-It's in the kitchen.

I'll just empty the dishes out of it. Are you finished with your cup?

I am now. If it won't get me another whack with the frying pan,

how come you own a pair of police handcuffs?

Oh, that's a sore point.

Rab knocked them out of Orkney Street nick after a drunk and disorderly.

Last time we used them, he handcuffed me to the bed.

-Oh, I see.

-No, you don't.

Then he dipped my purse and buggered aff down the pub.

She was 48 hours in a baby-doll nightdress. Her lips turned blue.

And when I say lips...

Rab!

Are you married yourself?

Yes. In fact Lucia and the children will be worried sick.

I need to send them a text.

No, no, no. You're not sending any text, boy.

-You'll stitch us up like the last time.

-I have to.

Renee had her first pony lesson today. Please.

Aw, why didn't you say?

I remember when oor two boys had their first pony lesson, eh, Mary?

Aye. They mugged the owner and then galloped off doon Saltcoats beach.

It's his wean. Let him send a message.

All right, all right, all right. But you'll do it my way.

-How d'you mean?

-The fanatical way.

We ready to rock, Inspector?

The sniper's across the street, sir. I've told him to look out

for a grizzly bear in a string vest and a head bandage.

One clean shot and it'll be like taking the top off an egg.

I hope to God this ends quickly.

Yes. If this goes wrong, it could end in a blood bath.

Not only that, I'm missing Nigella's Kitchen.

I know! But she's still worth a pump.

Say when, Rab.

Aye. There. You dae it just like I telt you, or else. Right?

Action!

"Hullorerr.

"See me.

"See being a Cabinet Minister.

"I have been pure minging, so I have."

Huv!

Huv. Huv.

"But noo, gen up."

Jen, jen, jen up.

"Jen up, I have pure seen the error of my ways."

-Weys.

-Weys.

"My captors have been pure quality

"and I huv tain up fanatical scumhood marsell."

-Masel!

-Masel.

"See how I enjoy this tasty macaroon bar

-"and have hundreds of sugars in my tea."

-Hunners. Hunners.

Hunners. "Hunners of sugars in my tea."

-"This has been a lovely wee kidnapping, so it has."

-Hus.

"Hus, and I have pure lapped it up.

"I thank my abductors

"for their traditional Scottish hospitality and mad banter."

Er, wait a minute, getting a wee bit of red eye there.

Red eye happens in the eye, Rab, no between the eyes.

-Eh, eh...are you a Hindu?

-No, why?

-Aaaaahhhh!

-Aagh!

Oh, naw! Oh, my God. Oh, my God!

What is it, Rab? Have you been shot?

Naw. I've put my foot in the en suite!

Sorry.

'Day two of the Restitution Street siege brings no signs of an ending.

'The fanatical abductor,

'the self-styled Rab Adelbaset Ali Nesbitt El Megarahi Buckfast has...'

Mary, Mary? Oh, Mary.

You all right, hen?

I havenae slept all night. Just taking stock of my life.

We're scum. What'd you want to dae a daft thing like that for?

No job. No engagement ring.

-Where is it?

-It's in the pawn to pay for the electric.

Which means that, after 35 years of marriage,

I now own less than I did on the day that we were hitched. I'm working backwards!

By wur ruby wedding, I fully expect to be homeless,

staggering doon Hope Street, smellin' of ozone wi' a trail of cats behind me.

I will never allow that to happen.

-You will be in a supermarket trolley...

-MOBILE BEEPS

-..and I'll be pushing it.

-Text message from Renee!

That phone video you uploaded has had 6,000 hits on YouTube.

For the first time in my life, I'm cool! Bugger me! Wicked!!

I cannae take this, Rab, this is daein my heid in!

Aw, come on, Mary, keep your diddies up. Keep your diddies up!

I'll away and make ye a nice wee cup of tea, eh?

Anyway it's gone quiet out there. Maybe they've given up.

Aaarrrggghhh!!

There's a bloody soldier on the window sill.

Just face it, Rab, we are gubbed.

Never. Never! I will never give in.

I've got weapons of mass destruction in that bedroom.

I've got tallboys, I've got pine cabinets,

a full arsenal of toxic furniture.

Christ almighty!

Rab? It's me.

Jason King from Department S.

-Hullo.

-Gen up, so it is.

The authorities have asked me to help.

Give yourself up before it's too late. If you do,

this...could be yours.

It's no' the armoured car that bothers me.

I mean, drug dealers have been driving them aboot here for years.

But when Jason King says, "Jump," you say, "How high?"

-Haw.

-Yes?

Get the word out. I'm ready to cut a deal.

You sure? I've been waiting for this.

I have my tweet ready to go.

"OMG, hey M8, news two die four.

"Grizzly Adams wants a face two face. Laugh my arse off.

"Triple grin smiley. LOL." How does that sound?

Oh, aye, that was magnificent, aye, aye.

Positively Churchillian, isn't he?

Aye, I'm coming, I'm coming! I'm coming!

This is the life, eh, Mary?

La dolces vita. Chapped hands, chilblains, business as usual.

How did you manage to swing it?

I have friends in very low places, Ella.

There are dark forces at work in this country that we may never understand.

PHONE RINGS

Hullo? Rab! I thought they'd taken away your shoelaces and your phone.

No, no yet.

There's been another wee incident.

Now what's happened?

Sir, he grabbed my cuffs and my phone and secured himself to the rail.

All right, come ahead! Come ahead! Square go, ya bams!

Well, what're you waiting for?

You've been dying to use your new Tasers, haven't you?

-Can I, sir? Can I?

-Go for it.

Haw, I did science at school, boy.

-You use that Taser and you'll regret it.

-No hauf as much as you will.

Ya manky midden, ye!

That'll be why I didn't pass my O level like.

After him!

Get it right up ye!

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd

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