Cuts Rab C Nesbitt

This programme contains adult humour.

Aw, brilliant, pure quality.

-What's funny?

-A story in here about a Glasgow woman. Listen.

"In a fit of revenge, she cut off

"her husband Sandy Mellish's private part and chucked it in a skip."

-LAUGHS:

-Lush!

You go, girlfriend, go.

-That's funny?

-Of course it is.

It's extreme, but hey.

Ah, I've got your logic.

-Extreme, but hey. Aw, here's another one, you'll love this.

-What is it?

A woman with a 42-inch chest

lost one of her nipples in an accident at work with a bacon slicer.

That's in very poor taste that.

What happened to "extreme, but hey"?

What is the difference here?

There's a world of difference.

The wife was provoked by her husband's behaviour.

The other was an unfortunate accident.

I see.

So what you're actually saying is in the great gender card game of life,

a pair of tits beats a single cock high.

I don't like the tone of this conversation.

-That's your trouble, lady, innit? Penis envy.

-Huh. Is that a fact?

Well, I certainly don't envy yours.

I've seen hanging moles that are mair impressive than that thing.

Aw, no! Is that the time?

I need to start getting ready for Peaches' birthday party.

Since when did it become our job to throw the wean's birthday party?

Since her mother went up the remedial wing to visit Gash.

It perks her up to see the man that chucked her mair clinically depressed than she is.

That's just par for the course nowadays, innit?

Why is everything men's fault?

TELEPHONE RINGS

-Hello?

-'Rab?'

Jamesie.

'Rab, I've done a terrible thing.

'It's my ain fault.'

What d'you mean? What's happened?

I'll just say it.

-I humped a midget!

-Ach, is that all?

You humped a knot in a tree once, you didnae ring me about that.

I know, but I'm afraid there's been...

a development.

Ah, right, I'll be right there.

Oh, honey drawers.

What is it, crispy Ys?

Would you mind if I were to pop out for a moment?

Not at all, you do whatever the hell you want.

-But you make sure you are back in time for Peaches' birthday party, right?

-Aye, aye.

LAME TOOT

Och!

Are you sure you want this kid?

I'm sure.

I tried to buy her off, Rab, I said,

"Look, here's £4.50 up front AND there's a fiver waiting on a scratch card for you after the termination."

-It's not a question of money, I've told you before!

-Listen.

I am not wishing to be indelicate here, but are you sure it's his?

I've had a scan done.

The wean's got two horns and a tail, and was reading a copy of Asian Babes.

It's his, all right.

I wasn't going to say anything.

I was going to bring the kid up myself.

And then I thought, I don't want my child hating me cos he doesn't know who his father is.

Er, when you say "he"?

Like I said, I've had a scan done.

-We've even picked a name.

-Henry.

Henry?

Him for a faither, Henry for a name,

all he needs is red hair and he'll have the full bawbag hat-trick.

What am I going to do, Rab?

I'm no ready for the responsibilities of fatherhood. I'm still sowing my wild oats.

-At 62?

-What?

It's a compliment. I cherished you enough to lie to you.

There is, of course, one other consideration.

I know he's married. That's why we're here.

That's why we phoned you, Rab.

I don't know what to do about Ella.

You two talk it over.

You will support me, won't you, Jamesie?

How can you even ask that?

This is our child.

Right, hit men. Who do you know that'll put her in a wheelie bin for a tenner?

You can't do that, for God's sake. This is your son.

You don't understand, Rab.

No having weans was Ella's greatest tragedy.

-I know that, Jamesie, I know.

-I mean, news like this could be a devastating blow.

There's nae tellin' how she'll react.

You're bloody right.

You'll... you'll have to be delicate here.

You'll have to... You'll have to break it to her gently.

Aye.

I will. I'll just say,

"Ella...

"Nae offence,

"but I am the egg man, so get it right up you."

I'd maybe skip the fingers if I was you.

Right, well, all the best.

Don't go, Rab! I cannae do a thing like this cold, can I?

At least stay and have a drink with me first.

I cannae, Jamesie, I'm due at Peaches' birthday party.

Oh, I see. Plenty of time for your grandwean,

but none for your godson?

-Godson?

-That's right...

Godfather.

Well, maybe just the one.

You really like dancing, don't you, Nana?

Oh, aye. I've had plenty of practise, pet.

Up the Lindella in the '60s.

Other lasses danced round their handbags,

I danced round your granda as he lay pished on the floor.

When's he coming back, Nana? I'm running out of pish music. We need to cut the cake.

Oh, don't you worry, pet. I'll wipe the floor with that useless sack of shite when I get my hands on him.

-It's my birthday!

-Oh, in a happy, joyous way.

-Hello!

-Grampa!

Hello rerr, sweetheart. Hello rerr, Mary Doll.

Come on, let's throw some shapes because it's party on!

SHE TURNS OFF MUSIC

Party off?

Go on.

It's true, Ella. I have been seeing a vivacious young dwarf.

It started out as a one-off, but I quickly grew enchanted by

the novelty of having a mini pump lover, and now, alas, she is with child.

-I see.

-Hopefully a normal, healthy child, but well, even if it turns out to be

something that's sitting in a high chair with a full beard and chewing tobacco,

that'll no bother me.

Because a wean's a wean, am I right?

You're right, Jamesie, a wean's a wean.

Ironic, isn't it?

We tried for 30 year to have a wean.

-What's her name?

-Sneezy.

I just made that up! It's Irene, and she's no a real dwarf,

she's more of a scale model of a human being kind of thing, know?

Forgive me. But I'm puzzled.

What exactly would any young, self-respecting wee lassie

see in the likes of you?

Tragically, Irene suffers from a terrible illness.

She is, what doctors call...

a bike.

That would explain it.

Maybe medical science will come up with a cure one day.

But meantime,

this is my solution.

-PSYCHO-STYLE MUSIC

-Ella!

CHEERING

SLURRED: Listen, I'm sorry I was late for your party, sweetheart, but...

Well...

I took my feet out for a walk, you see,

and then I made the mistake of letting them off the leash.

And they darted into a pub, so I had to run in after them.

I'll tell you, that is the last time I will buy Hush Puppies.

Bad shoes! Bad shoes!

You promised me faithfully that you would be back in time.

Aw, c'mon, Mary sweetheart.

Angel drawers, don't be like that.

C'mon, I'll put on a wee bit of the Molly Citrus or the Tink Tonks or whatever the hell

the weans are listening to nowadays, and we'll have a wee dance, eh?

Oh, bugger off. I don't want any wee dance.

We've got relationship issues, and the only way we are going to resolve them is...

-MOBILE PHONE BEEPS

-Hold on.

-Ella, look I cannae talk the now.

-Mary!

-You cut off Jamesie's what?

-Mary!

Rab will you stop being so selfish...

Oh, Rab! What have I done?

Oh, I was just about to cut the cake...

-No, no, don't scare the weans, don't scare the weans. Distract them, distract them.

-How?

Grampa? What's that sticking out your chest?

Oh, ah, eh, this is just a wee game that your granny and I sometimes play.

It's called...

breid knife hoopla!

Remember breid knife hoopla, Mary?

Oh. Oh, aye, hours of fun for all the family.

Watch this.

Oh...Rab, my life is over.

Aw, stop it, for God's sake.

Lots of men get by without a wullie.

Who? Name one.

I'll rephrase that.

Married men get by without a wullie.

Well, I'm married, and I still need it.

Aw, garbage.

After the first five years, what married couple can be bothered having sex?

Well, no with each other, obviously.

That's repulsive!

But there's randoms oot there, empty, shabby, demeaning affairs.

They're what made my life worth living.

Ella was under stress.

You got another bird pregnant.

Anyway, what about me, what about me, eh?

Two inches lower, this could have been my heart, boy.

A flesh wound. Another couple of feet lower it could have been your...

All right, all right, I'm getting the picture.

Rab, you know how much I loved my thingmy.

I mean, other kids growing up, well, they had their budgies and their goldfish. No' me.

I had Cocky.

I loved him.

I'd take him oot, play with him,

stroke him, nuzzle him...

Aw, stop it for God's sake.

You're giving me the boak.

I want him back.

You've gottae help me!

Ah, yes, Mr Cotter? Mr Nesbitt?

How are you both doing?

Well, for a man whose wife has just scored double tops on his chest plate, no' bad.

But my colleague here is feeling an unaccustomed draught in the old crotch vicinity.

Yes, yes. It's a great pity that we couldn't locate the missing part, you know.

I mean, if we'd found it in good time, and, you know,

kept in the right conditions then a re-graft would have been possible.

Sadly...

This sounds daft, Doctor,

but I know Cocky's still out there,

somewhere...

calling to me.

Maybe trapped, maybe in pain.

Oh, catch a grip of yourself.

It's yer walloper you're talking about, not Skippy the Bush Kangaroo.

Unfortunately, Mrs Cotter wasn't much help.

She's at the police station now.

They say she's traumatised,

she has very little recollection of what happened.

Doctor.

Tell me I'll pump again!

Well, with the missing tissue, you know, a full recovery would have been possible.

Without it, well...

Rab...

There's still a chance.

Oh, aye, of course there is, but well, you heard what the man said, Jamesie.

You know, with every passing minute.

You've got to help me, Rab.

D'ye remember that film, Bring Me The Head Of Alfredo Garcia?

Aye.

Well, bring me the walloper of Jamesie Cotter!

Well, if Bilbo Baggins can go in search of a ring,

I can maybe play hunt the helmet, eh?

I wish I could help you,

but my mind's a blank.

Think back, Ella, when did you last see it?

About 1992.

Even then I had my eyes shut and I was thinking of Chuck Norris.

You don't remember anything at all?

I mind him telling me that he'd made this lassie pregnant.

I was about to make a pan of soup.

I lunged at him.

The next thing I know I'm running down the street with a Tupperware box in my hand.

The rest's a total blackout.

Take your time, Mrs Cotter.

What did you put it in a Tupperware box for?

Were you gonnae cook it for your tea?

I don't know. Do you think I might have been looking for ice?

Ice! That'll be it.

To preserve it. Now where would you have gone?

The local fishmonger? The butcher?

Fresh food in Govan? Are ye kiddin'?

Nah, nah, there's only one place.

You leave it with me.

Oh! Rab.

Aw, it's you.

Looking for another game of husband darts, eh?

Do you want to go round the clock on my ribcage this time?

Look, it was an accident.

-I'm really sorry.

-Aye, aye.

-I'll speak to you later.

-Where you goin'?

I am away out to look for cock.

I never thought I'd ever hear myself say that.

Aye, you're right, Rab. Ella came tearing in here earlier.

She was in a helluva state. She had this Tupperware box and she asked me

-to put it in the ice box for her, so that's what I did.

-Oh, thank God!

-How, what's the big deal?

-Did she no' tell you what was in it?

-Nope.

If only you knew how often he'd dreamed of you holding that thing in yer hand.

Well, I'll tell you this.

I've had some queer things in my play piece in my time,

but never one of these.

But you have to say, it looks harmless enough, dunnit?

But see, if you're a man, it never gives ye any peace.

A penis, well, it's kinda like a supermodel.

Insanely insecure, and demanding constant attention.

But I suppose, well,

nature made us that way because of the competition for females.

Well, a penis is actually a man's most prized possession

and he jealously guards it with every fibre of his being.

Ah! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

This calls for drastic action.

You all right there?

-You're going to wear that watch out, amount of time you spend looking at it.

-Oh, nice one.

If you'll excuse me, I've just suffered a tragic loss and I'm hoping it can be repaired.

Yes, me too. Sandy Mellish is my name.

You've probably read about me in the local paper?

Aw, you're the guy that had his...

Exactly!

I heard about your misfortune. Thought I'd pop along to cheer you up. What about those nurses, eh?

All those buns, and not a sausage between us.

Just our luck, eh?

Marvellous. My mate's out there right now, he's trying to hunt mine down.

A race against the cock, right?

Yes, I know, that's the sort of joke that pissed off the surgeon.

See, if he finds it, d'ye think they can fix it?

Oh, yes.

What they've done with me is to stitch mine onto my body

to keep the circulation going while they prepare for the operation.

Aye, I've heard about that.

Where did they put it, on your leg?

Unfortunately, no.

Like I said, never piss off a surgeon.

Bad bastards.

Right, ya beaky bastards.

Who's got the wullie? Come on!

Was it you? Was it you?

Dear God, you're supposed to be vegetarians,

ya dozy big eejits that youse are.

Bet you've never seen this on the Living Planet, eh?

Big David Attenborough slugging the wildlife wi' a beer bottle.

Right, Hitchcock,

you're claimed!

Aw, you did it, Rab, you did it.

I prayed to big Jehovah for this.

I said, "Lord, put an end to plague and famine.

"And then take a swatch roon' Elder Park, see if you can find my Hampton Wick."

Aye, well, just calm doon a wee bit, Jamesie. They've got to make sure it's the right gull yet.

Oh, I hope so, Rab, I hope so.

Mr Cotter?

Good news.

We have your missing, er, member.

It was lodged in the gullet of the bird.

D'ye hear that, Rab?

A blow job aff a seagull.

Another first for Jamesie Cotter, eh?

We'd better get you to theatre.

Rab, Rab, if I don't come through this,

-tell wee Henry about his old man, eh?

-Oh, aye, I'll tell him, I'll tell him.

Tell him his daddy was rampant.

Tell him he was conceived in a public toilet while

I peeked through a glory hole at two gays harrying an oven-ready chicken.

You make him proud of me, Rab.

Right, Jamesie, I will, I will.

All the best, you'll be all right, you'll be all right.

I've had a word with my superior, Mrs Nesbitt, and there's good news.

-If your husband were to agree that the assault was accidental...

-Assault?

You stabbed me with a breid knife, what would you call it, Reiki massage?

That the assault was accidental, we could drop any possible criminal charge.

Well?

All right.

I'll do it on one condition.

That she gets anger management therapy.

Anger management?!

That's right. Shout at the officer.

Let her know how much you don't need that murderous rage of yours calmed doon.

You bastard. What about your drinking?

Oh, d'ye hear that abuse?

I mean, if you had to listen to that every day would you not take a wee snifter yourself, officer?

-Does your wife have a history of violence against you, Mr Nesbitt?

-Aw, you don't know the half of it.

Many's the time I've had to pamp on the Raybans before I go and do the Saturday shop

because big Serena Williams there has given me a backhander.

Is this true, Mrs Nesbitt?

He's a lying toerag. Oh, you're pure lappin' this up, aren't ye?

See, that's all the badness coming out now.

We'd be taking a calculated risk, Mrs Nesbitt.

We need to have your word you won't raise your hands to your husband again.

All right.

I'll go to anger management.

Oh, thank God, thank God. I've waited for years to hear these words.

Bloody delays, eh?

What's the matter with you?

You not got a merry quip to make the time go even slower?

Funnily enough, I've been thinking about it.

If this re-grafting doesn't take, I'm going to devote my life to others.

I'm going to go to Afghanistan and entertain the troops.

-What d'you think?

-Are you familiar with the term 'friendly fire'?

What about you? What'll you do if yours doesn't take?

I've thought about it, a lot.

I'm gonnae go the whole hog and become a female hooker.

-Really?

-I've spent the 62 years with a dick between my legs, it's too late to stop now.

Ah, Mr Cotter, Mr Mellish. Sorry to have kept you.

It's been a bloody madhouse in that surgery today.

Anyway, we're ready for you now.

I think. Fingers crossed, uh?

Right!

SCARY MUSIC

One thing about this job,

it's really, really boring.

You learn how to sleep with your eyes open. But not today.

This case, it's a real belter.

Mr Nesbitt, I believe that you and your wife have something to say to the court in conclusion?

Yes, Your Honour.

I am here to vouch for the good character of Ella Cotter.

Aye, and I am here to vouch for the bad character of James Cotter.

Your Honour, I have known Ella for more than 40 years.

You could never have met a more cheerful, loyal, sunny, bright, trusting person.

Then she married Jamesie.

Within a year, she'd applied for a gun licence.

And I have known James Aaron Cotter for 40 years.

As his closest friend, I can honestly say that

no more odious specimen of humanity has ever left a trail of slime behind it as it crawled along the gutter.

When he was born,

he took a swallow dive into the U-bend of life and never resurfaced.

In the septic tank of his reeking mind,

he is the lizard king of defecation, the turd's turd.

I'm taking the bullet for you here the day, you know that, don't you?

I know that, Jamesie, I know that.

Together, we plead for clemency.

Aye. Gie's clemency, ya shower of fat-arsed, middle-class...

Let's face it, we're all a bit on the nutty side.

And being married makes us even nuttier.

Which is why...and you might think me cracked for doing this...

I'm going to give Mrs Cotter another chance.

Mary!

Right. Now let's all go home, pull on our gimp suit and enjoy life.

Case dismissed.

-I'm not going to jail! Thank God.

-MOBILE RINGS

-Oh, Ella, I'm that pleased for you.

-Oh, hello?

Allow Scotland, eh?

Fairest legal system in the world.

Justice for the bampot by the bampot!

Who was that?

Irene.

She's had the wean.

He's got your eyes, Jamesie.

Sod his eyes, what's his wullie like?

-Did you have a hard time with the birth, hen?

-Caesarean section.

Now I know how John Hurt felt in Alien.

No matter, sweetheart. It was worth it.

Cos that means it'll still be a nice snug fit down there for Daddy.

Stop it. She might cut it aff!

-You're forgetting something, Jamesie, you're married.

-Aye. But in name only.

For my marriage is nothing but a hideous mockery, a hollow sham...

based on a deep and abiding love for my wife which just grows stronger...

Ella, I never saw you there.

Irene and Henry, I take it?

That's us.

He's a beautiful baby, isn't he, Ella?

Aye. He is.

Irene, d'ye think maybe Ella could have a wee hold of the baby, eh?

Eh? Aye right.

-Sure.

-Youse wouldn't mind?

Course not.

You go ahead, sweetheart.

Lock the windies, hide any sharp objects.

-You know what I'm thinking, don't you, Jamesie?

-No.

This should have been me and you.

If only, Ella, if only.

But we weren't as lucky as Rab and Mary.

No, no, right enough, you weren't as lucky as us.

If we knew that having weans was going to turn out unhappily,

would we go ahead and do it just the same?

Mind you, how can we answer that?

-Rab?

-What?

-Look!

-Ah, put the bloody thing away.

Sorry, Rab.

Aw, it's just lovely to have Cocky back to his old self again.

Ella even gave me a BJ last night, oot of guilt.

She said it was much bigger than she remembered.

Almost like it was a different one.

What if it was a different one, eh?

What d'ye mean by that?

Well, it's just a thought. But they were mad busy up that hospital that day, remember?

What if they got you and that other guy mixed up? You know?

Stop. Don't go there.

Hey, you!

I want a word with you!

I think there's been a mistake.

Let me see yours.

Cocks, eh? Can't live with them, can't live without them.

Come here!

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