Welcome to Royston Vasey The League of Gentlemen

"Dear Benjamin, we are so glad you are coming to stay with us,

"if only for the night.

"I hope that you and your friend enjoy your hiking holiday,

"and don't find our little town too boring.

"We have never been camping,

"as Uncle Harvey does not get on with chemical toilets..."

Excuse me! Do you mind? This is private.

'We are now approaching Royston Vasey. Royston Vasey, next stop.

'This is the end of the line.'

THE WIND HOWLS

GRUFF MALE VOICE: Where to, pal?

Swan Mills estate, please. Righto.

-Are you here for work or pleasure?

-Pleasure.

-I'm staying with relatives, and going hiking.

-Swan Mills is nice.

Lovely shops.

It's where I get my dresses from.

The good thing is, they know me there now.

-I couldn't go into Dorothy Perkins once me bust started showing.

-Oh.

I've only been on the hormones 18 months.

Me nipples are like bullets.

Morning, Doctor Chinnery!

Morning, Barbara.

'Thank you for posting a letter inside me.'

Sorry, lads.

Morning, Mrs Dyson!

THE WIND HOWLS

Yes?

Oh! I-I'm sorry. Are you open?

Yes.

Can I help you at all?

Oh, no, thanks. I'm just...

just looking.

I haven't seen you before.

-Are you a local?

-No, I'm meeting a friend. Going hiking.

-Cheerio.

-Can I help you at all?

-Well, how much is this...?

-AAARGH!

-What are you doing?!

-Sorry.

Don't touch the things!

-It's a local shop for local people. There's nothing for you.

-I can pay.

Keep your hands where I can see them.

I have a husband, you know. He's up the stairs. He'll hear everything.

If you were to come here and touch them...

-No...

-Edward! Edward!

-Hello, hello.

What's going on? What's all this shouting? We'll have no trouble.

He was stealing from the shop.

Who is he? Is his identity known?

-He's not local.

-Look here, we're very proud of our town.

This is a decent town. We'll have no trouble here.

-He asked me to open the till.

-No!

He has a plan. He covets the precious things of the shop.

Oh, tea-leaf, eh? You people are all alike.

You march in here, young,

try and touch the local things.

I suppose you'll be spraying me with one of those cans of paint,

smearing poor Tubbs with excrement.

I've got your number, fella.

-He tried to see under my clothes.

-Pervert, eh?

Got...sex on the brain.

Wet the bed, I'll bet, as a boy.

No sisters.

I used to be in a war.

I put paid to quite a few like you. This is a decent town, a local shop.

-There's nothing for you here.

-Tell him I can't have babies, anyway.

Tell him my insides are all wrong.

Devil! Go on, then.

Take the precious things of the shop, burn down our home,

rape our dead mouths!

So long as I don't have to listen to any more

-of your disgusting babble.

-LOOK!

I'm sorry if I've upset either of you.

I just wanted to browse in your bloody shop.

If you don't mind, I'll just leave quietly.

You...heard the man, Tubbs.

Get undressed.

Yeah, it's quite a straightforward operation, really.

Basically, they split the penis in two, and invert it,

using the membrane to form a sort of...

Hokey, cokey, pig-in-a-pokey!

Hello, gents. Half past nine, time for men with jobs to go to work.

Other men stay in bed till dinner-time, watching Tots TV,

thinking how worthless and pathetic they are.

Good morning, job-seekers.

Now, we were thinking yesterday about jobs.

Do you remember? What did we conclude?

There aren't any.

No, Ross, we concluded that there are so many jobs out there,

we need to know what our options are.

So, today we're going to have a little brainstorming session.

Don't worry, love. It doesn't hurt.

First up, who can tell me what this is?

-It's a pen.

-Yes, Ross, one of Pauline's pens.

Me and Mr Pen are going for a walk,

down the high street,

-where we'll see people doing lots of jobs.

-Not OUR high street, then.

Look, there's Mr Pastry. What do you think his job could be, gents?

-Baker.

-Yes, good - baker.

So I'm going to write that up on the board - "baker" - and then...

Oh, look who's over there. It's Mr...

Cabbages. And his job is...?

Fireman!

No, Mickey, love. He is a greengrocer.

But his good friend is Mr Flames, and he IS a...?

Greengrocer.

-No.

-Fireman.

Good. Come on, gents. Shout more jobs out.

Fireman!

We've got that one, Mickey.

Newsagent.

-Good. Newsagent.

-Policeman, carpet fitter.

-Yes, that is a job.

-Doctor, vet, tennis player.

-Football player.

-Just a minute, gents.

-Fireman!

-Window cleaner, gardener, architect.

-Slow down.

-Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy, butcher, baker,

-candlestick maker.

-Now...

-Fisherman, builder, labourer.

-All right, clever dick!

That's enough, now.

Astronaut.

Piss off!

You can shout out as many jobs as you like, Ross.

You're never going to bloody get one, you dole-scum!

Can you think of a job, Mickey?

Yeah.

Aww! You see, Ross? This poor bastard can't even spell "job", but at least he tries.

J...O...

What's this?

"Dear Mr Mickey, we would like you to come in for an interview this afternoon."

Brilliant, Mickey. What's it for?

Fireman!

It's not so bad once you've been shaved and marked up with lipstick.

Of course, they won't know about lubrication till they open me up.

-Hello, Auntie Val.

-Benjamin. Come inside. Quickly, quickly.

-Through here, Benjamin.

-Thank you, Auntie Val.

-Very kind of you to let me stay.

-I was saying to your Uncle Harvey,

we don't see enough of your side of the family.

Now, we want you to relax,

and treat this place like your own home.

-I am only staying one night.

-I know.

-I have to meet Martin.

-Absolutely.

Oh.

What is it?

Just a little thing. Could you leave your shoes in the front porch?

-Oh...

-Who's left muddy footprints all over the carpet?

-Sorry. It's me.

Ah, Benjamin.

In this house, we leave our shoes in the front porch, underneath the barometer.

Sorry about that.

I was explaining that we want Benjamin to treat this place like his own home.

Of course, of course.

Take your shoes off.

This way.

Good.

-We thought...

-Not there! There.

Left a bit.

And the right one closer to the left.

That'll do.

We thought you'd be happiest down here on the sofa-bed.

You'll have your own shower and WC.

Into which we don't pass solids.

-And you won't have the girls running in and out.

-That sounds great.

I'm inconvenienced, as this is my study. I'll stay late at the office.

-If it's any trouble...

-No!

It's fine.

There are one or two things I have to explain

so you'll feel absolutely at home.

-The keys.

-Oh, right.

Now, they're all colour-coded, so it shouldn't take you too long.

-Geoff, there won't be any work if they don't get a move on with this bloody road.

-Eh?

-We're dying on our arses.

-Brian, we've only got an hour for dinner!

-God, he's bloody deaf.

-You know what they say.

-What?

-Hmfmph.

-Eh?

-Hmfmfmph.

-I can't hear you.

-I said, "Bummers are deaf."

-Oh, yeah. It's a good one that, isn't it?

-I fell for it, and all.

-Sorry, lads. Getting that table for tonight.

-Brian, you know what they say.

-What?

-Bummers are deaf.

-What do you mean?

-Well, they're deaf, aren't they? Bummers are deaf.

I don't know what you're on about, Geoff.

Well, I don't...

Mike said it.

He was really laughing.

Afternoon.

-It's just through here, Veterinary.

-Righty-oh.

-You're a good lad.

-Thanks for coming at such short notice.

-Not at all.

-In the basket.

I know she won't suffer with you, Mr Chinnery.

I won't be a minute.

Right.

Hello.

Hello, girl.

On your last legs, you old trouper.

Well, never mind.

Had a good innings, eh?

Chased a few cats, chewed a few bones.

Well, you won't be in pain much longer.

Don't mind this. Just a silly, little needle.

There we go.

DOG WHIMPERS

Good dog.

There.

Sssh...

Off to the Land of Nod, eh?

Here she is, Veterinary.

-That tumour puts a half-stone on her.

-Who's that?

It's Blacko, the poorly one.

The one I want putting down, you know?

Er... And this one?

The, er...sleeping one, by the fire.

Whisky? My little angel, she is. My little princess. Aren't you?

Right...

Right.

Whisky?

Whisky?

I wonder if you'd take a seat.

I have some rather upsetting news.

So, job-seekers, when we think about what skills you've got,

we can narrow this list of job options down to...

Baby-sitter and...

bramble-picker. Don't know where that one came from.

-I'm going to dish my pens out.

-What time is it, Ross?

-You've got a watch on.

-I know. What time is it?

-Quarter past four.

-Just a sec. Where do you think you're going?

-Interview.

You're going nowhere, buster. Sit.

-Right, job-seekers, as I was saying, I want you to look at this list...

-Just a second.

How can he get a job if you don't let him go for his interview?

How can he get an interview if he doesn't know his job options?

-He's already got an interview!

-Ross, that is not my responsibility.

My responsibility is to make you job-seekers.

Where would I be if you all got work?

-On the dole.

-Exactly!

I'd be sat here next to Mr Waddilove, stinking of shit.

-This is my job we're talking about.

-No, it's Mickey's job! Go, Mickey.

-Mickey...

-Go!

Mickey!

If you go out that door, I'll have no option but to stop your benefit.

Yeah - both claims.

-She can't do that.

-Try me.

Please, Pauline. I feel confident.

Well, you look ridiculous.

They put monkeys in space, but they won't let one drive a fire engine.

-Sit down!

-Go!

That's right, Mickey, love. Stick to what you know.

Pauline's right.

I am stupid.

Right, the rest of you, I want you to split yourselves into baby-sitters and bramble-pickers.

We're going to look at the second stage - getting an interview.

Barbara, are bummers deaf?

I've no idea.

-Don't know why I'm asking you. You're a woman.

-Not quite.

They've to open me up first along the base of the scrotum...

Black for paper, chrome for string

Blue ones from this hook do swing

Keep them clean, don't be mistaken

For kitchen jobs like trimming bacon.

-I'd better be off. I'm meeting Martin.

-Then there's the towels.

White for hands, brown for feet

Green for torso, thighs and seat

In the cupboard 'neath the stair

You'll find the red for pubic hair.

Well, I think that's everything.

You might want to relax. Perhaps you'd like to see Harvey's toads.

-What?

-I breed toads for a hobby.

-Really?

-Yes.

-The thing is, I'm meant to be meeting Martin.

Batrachianism is a most rewarding pastime. We thought we'd give you a tour of the amphibarium.

I'll let you stroke my greenback.

But don't toads give you warts?

YOU may give a toad a wart, but a toad may NOT give a wart to YOU!

I'll just go and put the kettle on.

Well, I'd better...

While the wee wife's away, just a few words on the subject of onanism.

In this house,

we don't masturbate.

It's not a very pleasant thing to do,

particularly with two young girls running around, now, is it?

I'd hate to think of Chloe or Radcliffe tearing downstairs first thing in the morning

only to find you hunched double on the sofa-bed...

..pumping your fist.

So, while you're a guest with us,

if you could rein in those baser instincts, Benjamin, please.

No, that's...fine.

Good.

Everything hunky-dory? Good. I'm so glad it's all sorted.

Semen is such a persistent stain.

'Oi! Three Bluebirds, please!'

-He's bloody deaf, him.

-Well, you know what they say.

-What?

All right, all right!

Brian,

-tell Mike - Mau Mau.

-You what?

That one about the Mau Mau.

I can't remember that. You tell him.

Danny told us this joke at the golf club. It's the funniest bloody joke.

-Tell it, Brian.

-Me?

-Yeah.

-All right. There's these three fellas...

-Englishman, Irishman, Scotsman.

-Yes, and they get lost in the desert.

-Jungle.

-Is it?

-Mm. Go on.

-Lost in the jungle. They get killed by cannibals.

No, you missed the bloody joke out!

-I can't remember it, Geoff.

-You can.

-I'm not bothered, actually.

-No, sit down!

-Eh?

Sit down.

He's telling a joke.

Now, just remember what the end is, and go back.

Right. There's an Englishman...

-Fruit.

-What?

It's the fruit.

-Oh!

-He remembers it.

They've got to go and pick ten pieces of fruit. The Chief says...

Do the voice.

The Chief says,

"So, Englishman, now you must choose between death or Mau Mau."

The Englishman says, "I'll choose Mau Mau."

-So they stick the fruit up his arse.

-What did he pick?

Oh, the Englishman chose cherries.

Imagine ten cherries stuffed up your arse. Cherries are small.

-Go on, Brian.

-Right.

The Chief says to the Scotsman, "Death or Mau Mau?"

The Scotsman says, "Mau Mau."

Oh... What's the Scotsman's fruit? Bananas?

-No, it's smaller than that.

-Let's just say bananas.

Too big! It spoils the next one.

-Apples?

-No!

-Strawberries?

-In the jungle?!

Oh, just think what it is!

Strawberries, apples...

Bri, why are there no aspirins in the jungle?

-Don't know.

-Cos the parrots eat 'em all.

-Do you get it?

-Yeah.

I'd have said "parrots ate 'em all".

Either way, I think it works.

As you can see,

the horned toad requires only three droplets on a slice of moist bread.

-Only three? I'm meant to be meeting Martin...

-Moving on,

this is a different species altogether.

Everyone's banking on this road. What if it doesn't happen?

-I thought it was a dead cert.

-No.

-PLUMS!

You what?

-They're plums. Come on.

-It doesn't matter now.

Of course it bloody matters! There's only the Irishman left.

-Come on. The Chief says, "Death or Mau Mau?"

-Do the voice.

-Doesn't matter! Finish it.

-I can't remember.

-Finish it!

-I can't remember it.

-Please!

-I honestly can't remember.

It's just a big bloody joke to you, isn't it?

Isn't it? "Geoff can't tell a joke. Geoff IS a joke.

"Geoff enters a talent competition and loses."

Me mam said I would win.

I was only eight!

You know I've got this gun, don't you?

Oh, you're all listening now! YOU!

You're going to tell this joke,

and we're all going to laugh!

Or else he gets it!

Calm down. I'll finish the joke.

Er... The Chief turns to the Irishman and says,

"Death or Mau Mau?" The Irishman looks at his fruit...

PINEAPPLES! PINEAPPLES!

He looks at his pineapples and he says,

"I couldn't stand the Mau Mau. I choose death." The Chief says...

GUN CLICKS

Get it right, Brian.

The Chief says to the Irishman...

I can't remember.

He says,

"Death BY Mau Mau."

-Have you heard it?

-Yeah.

-It's good, though, isn't it?

Oi! Three Bluebirds!

MICKEY IMITATES SIREN

Excuse me. Have you seen someone waiting here?

What do they look like?

28 years old.

Brown hair.

Name of Martin Lee.

-I found the wallet. Has he been in?

-No!

I don't know anything!

Now, if you'll excuse me, officer, the shop is local.

Perhaps your husband saw him. Is he here?

He's up the stairs, cleansing the precious things of the shop.

He can't walk, you see?

And he's blind.

Hello, hello.

Tubbs, what's going on? What's all this shouting?

We'll have no trouble here.

-Are you the proprietor?

-Yes, yes.

-Well, your wife said you were up the stairs, sir.

-I slipped out, Tubbs.

For a walk. Didn't want to disturb you.

Fine evening, the town. We're very proud.

-He's looking for a boy.

-Poofter, eh?

Little bummer boy. Came across your type in the forces.

You won't catch me with my trousers down.

-Sir, I am here on police business. I found a boy's wallet.

-Local boy?

-He's not from our town.

-Do we know his parents?

I said we'd never seen him before. Did Tubbs do right?

You did beautifully, Tubbs.

There's your answer, sir. Never seen this boy before.

Now, if you will excuse us,

we've a shop to run.

Yes, of course.

Thank you for your co-operation.

Good evening.

We didn't burn him!

I beg your pardon?

Edward?

Will more strangers come?

Calm yourself, Tubbs.

None shall come.