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Let me try and clarify some of this for you.
Best Company Supermarkets
are not interested in selling wholesome foods.
They are not worried about the nation's health.
What is concerning them is that the nation
appears to be getting worried about its health.
And that is what's worrying Best Co,
because Best Co wants to go on selling them what it always has,
ie, white breads, baked beans, canned foods
and that suppurating, fat-squirting little heart attack
traditionally known as the British sausage.
So, how can we help them with that?
Clearly, we are looking for a label.
We need a label brimming with health.
And everything from a nosh pot to a white sliced
will wear one with pride.
And although I'm aware of the difficulties of coming to terms with this,
it must be appreciated from the beginning
that even the nosh pot must be low in something.
And if it isn't, it must be high in something else.
And that is its health-giving ingredient we will sell.
Which brings me to my final question.
Who are we trying to sell this to?
Answer, we are trying to sell this
to the archetypal, average housewife,
she who fills her basket.
What you have here is a 22-year-old pretty girl.
What you need is a taut slob,
something on foot deodorisers in a brassière.
I... I'm not quite sure we can go along with that, Mr Bagley.
If you look at the market research...
I don't need to look at the market research.
I've lived with 13 and a half million housewives for 15 years.
I know everything about them. She's 37 years old.
She has 2.3 children, 1.6 of which will be girls.
She uses 16 feet six inches of toilet tissue a week
and fucks no more than 4.2 times a month.
She has seven radiators and is worried about her weight,
which is why we have her on a diet.
And because we have her on a diet,
we also encourage her to reward herself with little treats,
and she deserves them.
Because anyone existing on 1,200 calories
of artificial, synthetic, orange-flavoured waffle a day
deserves a little treat.
"We know it's naughty, but you do deserve it.
"Go on, darling, swallow a bun."
And she does.
And the instant she does, the guilt cuts in.
So here we are again with our diet.
It's a vicious, but quite wonderful circle,
and it adheres to only one rule.
"Whatever it is, sell it."
If you want to stay in advertising, by God, you'd better learn that.
Bagley. Look, it's not in my nature to be a pain in the arse with such consistency.
It's being forced on me. I just had them on the phone.
They are phoning me back. I've got to give them something.
- Tell them it'll be wonderful. Hi, Harry. - All right?
I did. They're over the moon.
Apart from 15 calls a day wondering where the fuck it is, they couldn't be happier.
They're getting impatient. We promised them the animatic over a week ago.
I'll be frank with you, Bagley. I'm running out of bullshit.
- Try massaging your temples. - I've got to give them a date.
Either a date or you give me some idea of what you're coming up with.
I'm coming up with a brilliant advertisement for a very dull pimple cream.
Then why can't I take a look? Why can't I see something?
You know, just a storyboard or some roughs,
anything so as I can give them an idea of the direction you're going in.
No. I don't show work in progress.
- Any calls? - Mr Bristol called again, twice.
- I hope you told him I was out. - Yes, Mr Bagley. You were out.
- Good. If he calls again, I'm still out. - Bagley, you have got to give me a date.
All right, try Monday on him. And don't get so panicky.
Nobody ever remembers a late delivery, Richard. They only remember a bad one.
Boil busters. The boil busters.
Your face can be a battleground.
You need something tough.
Jesus.
What do they want another pimple cream for?
The market's saturated.
There's a lot of boils out there, Bagley.
"Nobody cares as much about your skin as you do,
"but we do try.
"And because we care,
"we went to an expert -
"Mother Nature -
"and we discovered that sometimes, the most effective way
"of dealing with those troublesome little breakouts
"is Mother Nature's own richest source of Vitamin A.
"So we took essential oils
"of carrot, marigold seed...
"roots and other natural ingredients,
"and we packed this shit into every tube.
"We called it HP Megaventure.
"And if it doesn't work on your blackheads,
"you can spread the fucker on toast!"
Sorry to disturb you, Mr Bagley,
but Mr Bristol's on the line again.
- Tell him I'm out again. - He says he knows you're not.
He says he knows you're avoiding him and he says he insists on a time to see you.
Oh, for Christ's sake, give me a break.
All right, tell him this afternoon. Four o'clock this afternoon.
- And get my wife on the phone. - Yes, Mr Bagley.
"Hi. My name's Barbara Simmons,
"and I'm a biochemist.
"But at night, I'm a woman,
"and I want my skin to be at its best.
"So I recommend a new product.
"It's called...
"whatever the fuck it's called,
"and I use whatever the fuck it is
"because I know it works.
"And I should know,
"because I make it."
Mrs Bagley on line one.
What do you want!
Yes, I'm sorry, darling. I know I did.
Listen, I don't think I'm gonna make it back tonight.
I'm gonna blitz it.
Oh, no, fine, fine. It's going fine.
It's just, the deadline's getting serious.
Really?
Well, we could meet for lunch, celebrate my breakthrough.
OK, one o'clock.
- You're chain-smoking, darling. - I know I am. I know I am.
I'd like another vodka martini, dry as a bone, twist, no olive.
Spritzer, please.
I tell you, Julia, I'm out of my mind.
I'm getting nowhere. Zero.
Stop getting so wound up about it. It'll come.
And please put that cigarette out. That's three in ten minutes.
Darling, why don't you forget it a minute? Take the afternoon off.
- I can't. I've got to see Bristol. - You're not gonna be much use.
Oh, that's where you're wrong, Julia.
That's what's so insane about all this. Anything else, I'm fine.
Any other part of the human body, I'll sell it something.
Give me a bald head, and I'll sell it shampoo.
- I cannot get a handle on the boils. - Pass me the butter, please, darling.
The moment I think of a boil,
my mind slips into a sort of dreadful, oily neutral.
I just sit there, hour after hour,
chewing the ends off pencils, smoking myself daft.
- What exactly is this stuff? - It's a standard.
16 to 26-year-old acne attacker. It's a hexafluoride.
- Does it work? - No idea. It's probably junk.
Well, that's probably the problem.
If you knew it actually got rid of boils, you'd have no problem selling it.
Nobody in advertising wants to get rid of boils, Julia.
They're good little money spinners.
All we want to do is offer hope of getting rid of them. And that's where I'm blocked!
- Where's our drinks? - They're coming, sir.
Well, I really do think you should cancel Bristol and come home with me.
I can't. I've been cancelling him all week. Why can't we cancel this dinner?
I'm not in the mood for that mob.
If I had known we were having dinner, I'd never have suggested lunch.
We can have both. People do, darling.
- I suppose Wheelstock will be there. - Don't take it out on Penny.
Christ, what am I going to do?
Dennis, for goodness' sake, stop getting so paranoid.
Everything will be all right. You've had these sort of problems many times before.
- Not like this, I haven't. - Oh, yes you have.
You had a terrible time with piles.
I did not have a terrible time with piles.
I may have had a problem getting ahold of them,
- but selling them was a piece of cake. - You're raising your voice.
Compared to this, piles were a birthday present.
- So was dandruff. So was breath. - You're still raising your voice.
The whole lot taken together, including the fucking lawnmowers,
is as nothing compared to the pimples, acne and boils!
I don't want to go back in there.
Don't worry about it. Don't think about boils.
If a boil pops up, force yourself to think of something else.
- OK. - And don't go near your office.
Just see Bristol and come home.
- Are you sure you can't wait for me? - Sorry, I can't, darling.
Get Bristol on the line and tell him I'm coming in to see him now.
Yeah. Have him call me later.
Sorry to keep you waiting, Bagley. I didn't expect you till four o'clock.
- Here, take a look at this. - What is it?
It's a photostat of an arse from a copying machine.
- Don't recognise it, do you? - Not offhand, no.
You gave the juniors a bit of a tongue-lashing yesterday.
- Really? - Said you went over the top.
I haven't got time to give lessons in advertising.
They asked my opinion, and I gave it.
In my opinion, they'd completely missed the brief.
I think you're probably right. Not now, Sheila.
As a matter of fact, I think you helped them out. About 15 minutes.
Anyway. That's not actually what I wanted to talk about.
How are we getting on with the pimple cream?
Five minutes.
Is it special? 555-0472.
- Sensational. - Can you give me a verbal peek?
- You know me, John. I'd rather not. - That's what I thought.
No, Los Angeles 555-0472.
I'm very pleased to hear it, because I'll tell you frankly,
they were on the phone this morning, threatening to pull the account.
Anyone but you and they would.
It's finished. Just a fine-tune. I'll be through over the weekend.
Can we diarise on that?
- Of course. - Wonderful. Wonderful.
Yes. Put him through.
Mmm? Mm-hm.
Really? Why so fast?
Really?
What happened to Seymour, Hickwash, Bone, Riddle and Gore?
Really?
What about OCDS?
Wh... Is it a kipper?
Oh, that's interesting. What a complete range of dinners.
Frozen kippers... Just hang on a second, Bagley.
No. He's here now. I'll ask him.
No, no, he's finished. He'll be through Monday, for sure.
Hang on a sec, Eddie.
Can you handle a Monday pitch? It's a quickie. You'd have to go in dry.
- What's the product? - It's a boil-in-a-bag.
- You all right. Bagley? - Yes, I'm fine.
Tell him OK. I'll be in first thing Monday morning.
You must stop worrying.
If a boil pops up, force yourself to think of something else.
You're absolutely right.
I'm absolutely not gonna think about boils,
large boils, blind boils or fat girls' boils, till ten o'clock tomorrow morning.
What about large, blind, fat girls with boils?
I see the police have made another lightning raid.
- Paddington drug orgy. - Huh.
I suppose young girls was involved?
"One discovered naked in the kitchen,
"breasts smeared with peanut butter.
"The police took away a bag containing 15 grams of cannabis resin.
"It may also contain a quantity of heroin."
Or a pork pie.
I beg your pardon?
I said, the bag may also have contained a pork pie.
I hardly see a pork pie's got anything to do with it.
All right, then, what about a large turnip?
It may also have contained a big turnip.
- The bag was full of drugs. - Nonsense.
The bag was full of drugs! It says so!
The bag could have been full of anything.
Pork pies, turnips, oven parts.
- It's the oldest trick in the book. - What book?
The distortion of truth by association book.
The word is "may".
You all believe heroin was in the bag because cannabis resin was in the bag.
The bag may have contained heroin,
but the chances are 100 to one certain that it didn't.
Lot more likely than what you say.
About as likely as the tits spread with peanut butter.
- Do you mind? - The tits were spread with peanut butter!
- Nonsense. - It says so!
Who's the man you are to think you know more about it than the press?
I'm an expert on tits. Tits and peanut butter.
I'm also an expert drug pusher.
- I've been pushing drugs for 20 years. - Look here, I've had enough of this!
And I can tell you, a pusher protects his pitch.
We wanna sell 'em cigarettes and don't like competition, see?
So we associate a relatively innocuous drug
with one that is extremely dangerous.
And the rags go along with it because they adore the dough from the ads.
I've had enough of this. I'm getting off at Thatchet.
Getting off at Thatchet won't help you. Getting off anywhere won't.
I've had an octopus squatting on my brain for a fortnight,
and I suddenly see that I am the only one that can help you.
It would be pointless to go into the reasons why,
but I've been worried sick about boils for a fortnight.
Large boils, small boils, fast eruptors. They're incurable, all of them.
I know that, and so does everybody else.
Until they get one. Then the rules suddenly change.
With a boil on the nose, there's a sudden overnight surge in faith.
They wanna believe something will work.
He knows that, which is why he gets a good look in with the dying.
Sell some hope, you see?
But these boys would be full-time into real estate
if anyone came up with a genuine cure for death!
Good God, this is a madman!
What do you know about God, you wire-haired Mick?
Here, have 'em. I've given up.
- What on earth are you doing? - I'm reading a newspaper.
We're in the middle of a dinner party.
I'm sorry. I can't bear that great, pompous herbivore in there.
I'm sick of hearing about her soya proteins.
You might at least make a bit of an effort.
At least sit at the table. Bring the cream.
- Both breasts and the leg removed? - When all's said and done,
it's perfectly obvious most girls love being on the pill.
What utter balls, Jonathan.
Do you think women like filling their bodies with chemicals?
- We're talking about eels, darling. - Yes, it is most extraordinary.
Apparently, by the year 2000,
the level of oestrogen in the sea will be as much as two parts per million.
So many women taking the pill, you see.
The problem is, it's starting to mess up the fish.
- They're breeding in the sea. - I thought fish did.
Not eels, darling. Eels breed in rivers.
I think men should bleed.
What a disgusting thing to say!
You find bleeding disgusting, do you?
Not particularly. Just the way you said it.
That horrible sneer and mouth full of nuts.
Darling, Penny is our guest.
Women, I might inform you, take that primitive device called the pill
because it's all they've got.
They don't like it. I personally abhor it.
But, unfortunately, it's all we've got.
- In what context? - In the context of bed.
I'm surprised you need to bother.
Cointreau, anyone?
Darling, I know you're having a very difficult time at the moment,
and I know you've had rather a lot to drink and didn't mean what you said.
But Penny is our guest and I'd like you to apologise.
He doesn't need to apologise. Those kinds of sexist attitudes are beyond apology.
What do you mean by that?
Do you really think I don't understand?
You dislike me because I'm not one of those starved little tarts you exploit.
I don't rush out and buy your latest makeup.
I have a mind of my own. And I have a body of my own
that doesn't fit into the preconceived patterns men like you dictate.
- You mean you're fat. - Yes, I'm fat!
And you're perfectly at liberty to hate me for it.
You're quite wrong. I don't dislike you because of that.
I wouldn't care if you were so huge we had to put up scaffolding to feed you.
Oh, for God's sake, let's not have a row.
- Why not? Why shouldn't we have a row? - Because nobody wants one!
- You're being completely irrational. - Irrational?
We're all prepared to sit here discussing mung beans and soya protein,
but if anybody touches on anything real, it's irrational?
Right, then, you're being rude. Unutterably rude and a bore!
- Bagley, come and have a drink. - I've had a drink, thank you.
Now I'm going to have another.
- Do you wear Y-fronts? - Don't tell him.
I think you're contemptible.
And I think you are a vegan who eats meat in secret.
- See? She's a meat-eating vegan. - I do not eat meat!
But you'll eat fish till the cows come home.
- Don't argue with him. - Fish is allowed!
Including eels? Eels full of oestrogen?
If it's buggering the eels, think what it's doing to you.
- Get back to your fig bottling! - You're going out of control.
Oh, no, I'm not. I'm just beginning to see the light.
- You're talking nonsense. - It's all so clear.
I've been living a nightmare, obsessed with other people's acne,
wracking my brains to be original about boils.
I've been going berserk!
But then I suddenly thought of a pork pie.
- Get his Valium. - I tell you, it was like a fucking brainwave!
I have discovered that brains are being laundered daily.
I have found that out, but it shall be no more!
Jesus Christ! What do you think you're doing?
I'm completing a process of natural selection.
I'm going through everything in the house and isolating items of genuine worth.
All other products, especially those contaminated with advertising,
I am disposing of.
Have you gone out of your mind?
I know it's going to be difficult, but I'll explain properly and you will understand.
Dennis, listen to me. You're under tremendous stress.
You were drunk last night, and probably don't realise it, but you were out of control.
Maybe I was, but now I've had time to work things out, get everything in perspective.
Darling, can't you see what you're doing this morning is equally out of control?
Oh, no, you're quite wrong, Julia. There's nothing out of control about me now.
I know exactly what I'm doing now.
God in heaven!
The sweet stench of revenge!
Please stop that. I think you're ill.
I'm gonna do those bastard television sets in here.
- Like you're doing the vacuum cleaner? - That's right.
Except I'm gonna do them better.
I'm gonna turn them on and do them in the middle of an advertisement for themselves.
- I'm going to drown them. - You call that rational, do you?
Certainly. Everything I do is rational.
Why have you put chickens down the lavatory?
To thaw them before dismemberment.
You're ill, darling. I want you to get out of the bath.
They feed 'em on fish, they taste like fish,
so I shall dismember them and return them via the sewers to the sea.
Get out of the bloody bath!
I know this must be all sort of upsetting for you, darling,
but honestly, I assure you of its necessity.
- It has to be done or we'll never be free. - From what?
What sort of freedom can you get from hacking a vacuum cleaner to pieces?
Look at you! You've got a polythene bag on your head. You look stark raving mad.
You need help. You need rest.
This cursed pimple cream has got on top of you.
Which is why I intend to escape.
You're not escaping it. You're encouraging it.
- You're suffering them yourself. - What do you mean?
You're so run down, you've got a boil yourself.
- Me? - Yes.
A horrid looking boil, spouting from your neck.
You never had a boil before in your life.
You're totally worn out, both physically and emotionally.
My God, you're right!
I've got a boil.
Sullivan Bristol. One moment.
I'm gonna collect something from my office.
While I'm there, get hold of Bristol and tell him I'm coming to see him.
- Mr Bristol's out. Sullivan Bristol. - I want a call the moment he turns up.
And get me a couple of dispatch boys. I need some equipment moved.
Ow!
I've come to give you a present.
How nice.
To me, this represents everything that is wrong
and everything that is vile with this profession.
- Really? - It is the reason I'm resigning.
- What's suddenly upset you about it? - The hypocrisy it represents.
- It was never used. - Not its. Mine.
I believed in it, and I sat back like some gagged little idiot while they buggered it.
- I should have resigned then. - I see.
I don't approve of its rejection. I can no longer tolerate it.
I don't approve of Her Majesty's Government's cynical little bit of twaddle
that smoking can seriously damage your health
as any kind of acceptable alternative.
I wouldn't have thought anyone was arguing about that.
Precisely. Nobody's arguing about it, especially the government.
The only fucker this ever frightened was the Chancellor of the Exchequer.
But I'm going to argue about it. I'm going to shout about it!
- I wouldn't do that, old chap. - Can damage your health?
What's "can" got to do with it? Can, could, might, possibly, maybe.
"Does" is the word we want to hear.
The bastards are killing 100,000 a year.
Warning by Her Majesty's Government.
"This product contains highly toxic carcinogenic poisons.
"Avoid all contact. Do not inhale.
"Should inhalation occur, seek immediate advice from a physician."
I saw Harry yesterday. He said you were having problems with the pimple cream.
Did he? Well, he's wrong.
Because I have eradicated the pimple cream from my life.
He also said you lost your temper with some photographs.
That's right. Closeups of hives.
Don't you think the way you reacted could be considered a little irrational?
Don't start the old irrational bollocks with me, Bristol!
I'm up to here with it. I know everything there is to know about rationality,
and I know everything there is to know about advertising.
- Hold them, Sheila. - So don't tell me I'm being irrational.
Because I'm the man who's taken the stench out of everything but shit.
OK, old chap, why don't you take some time off?
What the fuck do you think I'm resigning for?
I'm taking forever off. I'm going to cleanse my life.
I'm going to rid my mind and body of poisons,
and when I've done it, I intend to make it my life's work to encourage others to do it.
- And how will you do that? - By telling them, you bald fool.
Walking up and down with a sandwich board?
- If necessary. - Advertising, dear boy.
How dare you! How...
Aagh!
- What's the matter, Bagley? - I've got a boil.
A big boil. I believe it's justice.
The poison quitting my miserable system.
15 years ago, I was out there on the floor where you are now,
and I was very like you, Bagley.
I was the best.
But I got myself into some trouble with a gas-fired heating system.
I tell you, I was desperate. I made myself ill with worry.
I finally ended up at a specialist who told me I'd given myself an ulcer.
But it was a lot more than that to me.
As far as I was concerned, I'd given myself a detonator.
I became obsessed with fears of spontaneous combustion.
This gas-fired business had penetrated so deeply into my subconscious,
I thought I was seconds away from bursting into flames.
I started drinking water, sometimes as much as 25 pints a day.
I slept with a bucketful by the bed.
I even bought a fire extinguisher.
I'm surprised you needed to bother. You must have pissed like a fire engine.
Anyway, what's all this got to do with me?
What I'm telling you is that I tried to quit too,
but the man who sat here refused to accept my resignation.
- Hard luck. - Was it?
I took a month off and went abroad,
rested and got myself a tan and then I came back.
And by Christ, Bagley, did I sell some radiators.
- Really? - Never been better.
And I'll tell you something else. I didn't burst into flames, either.
Well, let's hope it's not too late.
Cos if you went up, it would save me a job.
Cos I tell you, Bristol, any night now,
I'm likely to turn up here and burn this dump to the ground.
I can't believe how the thing could grow so quickly.
This morning it was a pea. Now it's like a fucking tomato.
I can't bear it any longer, Julia.
The bastard's on fire!
Bathe it in warm water again.
I have bathed it in warm water again.
I've washed it, dried it, poked it,
agitated it, insulted it.
Nothing. All it does is throb and get bigger.
It's like a thing in a medical magazine.
- Hasn't the mustard helped? - Of course not.
- Maybe you should try the English. - This is the English.
No, it's not, darling. It's Dijon with fine herbs.
Why don't you take some aspirin?
Never! I'm gonna knife the swine!
Calm down! It's just a big boil.
First thing in the morning, I'll run you into town and we'll have it looked at.
Now come to bed.
Julia...
it's just grown a hair.
Oh, it's two o'clock in the morning! Will you please come to bed?
Not now.
I gotta get down there and do some work.
Come on, race!
Come on. He needs some help.
What are we gonna tell him?
All we gotta do is tell him to throw a rock through their window.
Then knock on the door and sell them all a burglar alarm.
- Right. - Oh, this is a good idea.
- Mwah! - Oh, you missed me!
I'm going again.
- Oh! Ready? Mwah! - Mm... Mwah!
Oh, I think you're wonderful.
Shall I follow you?
Yeah. Come on, let's hit this cathode ray tube.
OK. Ready? Here I go! Whee!
And whee!
Hiya, handsome.
You can go home, Mrs Wallace.
Dr Gatty, please. Julia Bagley.
Well, can you page him? I need him at once!
Good. Yes, wonderful. Thank you. Thank you.
The boil! The boil!
It's alive! It lives!
- What do you mean? - It's grown a head!
I looked at it in the bathroom mirror, and it spoke to me!
Aah! Have a look at it!
- I have, darling. - What's it doing?
Nothing. It's just a big boil.
Boils don't have ears! Boils don't have mouths that smile!
No, darling. Neither does yours.
I promise you, it's all part of this silly, silly stress you're going through.
Come along. We'll go and look at it together.
I don't think I dare.
Shall I tell you what happened?
You were dreaming. You dreamt you woke up and went to the bathroom.
You may have even slept walked there.
You saw your own face in the mirror, and it frightened you.
Things like that are always happening
when people are under dreadful mental stress.
- Do you think so? - I'm certain of it.
That'll be Dr Gatty. Come upstairs and put something on.
- What's the problem, Julia? - Dennis thinks he's got a talking boil.
- What? - I can't go into it now, but he's manic.
- Where is he? - Upstairs.
How is this manifesting?
Dennis, darling! Dennis!
Dennis, come back! Stop!
Ah! Come on, boy.
Come on, Dennis. I'm not gonna hurt you.
Stay back, Gatty! You blast it on the radio!
- All right. Here you are. Now, now, boy. - Aah! Aah!
- Now, now, now. Come on. - Aah! Aah!
There, there, there.
There. All done. All done.
How do you think he'd react to a suggestion of psychoanalysis, Julia?
Well, he'll agree. He'll have to.
Not necessarily. He's almost certainly convinced of his sanity.
In which case, it might well be difficult to persuade him a psychiatrist could help.
The only thing he'd consent to at the moment is me lancing the boil.
Why don't you? Do it now while he's asleep?
I'm not an expert in these things, Julia.
I don't think that's a good idea.
Removing it in his condition might set up some kind of permanent block.
You've got to remember, as far as he's concerned, I wouldn't be lancing it.
I'd be decapitating it, and that could be dangerous.
We don't know who this person is.
It might be a relative. His mother.
- I think it's a male. - Father, then.
I'm sure that before any attempt is made to get rid of it,
you've got to find out who it is.
Once we've done that, we've got a good chance
of converting it back to a normal boil.
Then I'll lance it.
For the moment, it's just a matter of getting him to see a good psychoanalyst.
- Do you know someone? - I know a very good man in town.
- It might take two or three days. - He'll have to consent.
- If he doesn't, we'll have to make him. - I fear so.
- What do you mean? - Could involve certification.
But he's just exhausted. He's not really mad, is he?
Running naked around a garden insisting a boil has spoken to you
is more than just exhaustion, Julia.
Look. This is what I suggest. Tomorrow, I'll call you with an appointment.
You have to do your best to get him there.
For the moment, make sure he keeps taking the tablets every two hours.
He'll stay under control.
When he wakes up, try and be normal. Cook him dinner.
You'll probably have to go along with him.
It'll be difficult. You'll have to try.
And you'd better keep a record of what the boil says.
At least, what he says it says.
Could be important.
Don't worry. We'll sort it out.
- What are those? - Just pills.
Two now, two before bed.
Do you think I'm going mad, Julia?
Goodness gracious, no!
Dr Gatty says you're simply paying the price of your creativity.
He says you have such an active imagination, it's taking advantage of you.
- What did he say about the boil? - He said it's perfectly normal.
He said it's an absolutely normal boil,
and as soon as you've had a proper rest, it'll go away.
- Are you sure? - Absolutely.
Trust me. Take my word for it.
Mmm. Smells good.
- Smells thumb-sucking good. - Thank you, darling.
- I didn't say anything. - Oh, I see.
Now we're going to have a nice dinner, and everything will be normal.
And if it speaks again, we'll ignore it, won't we?
Promise?
- What are you doing? - Merely whistling.
- You're staring. - Not at all.
I was just getting ready to clear my throat, that's all.
It's extraordinary how much steam comes off hot peas, isn't it?
Yes, darling.
Go to France.
Yes, fancy France? Paris in the springtime?
That'd be lovely.
That's a very attractive oven glove.
Are you ashamed of your false teeth?
- I don't have false teeth. - I know you don't, darling. I know you don't.
What I meant was, if you did have false teeth, would you be ashamed of them?
- It was a hypothetical question. - Probably not.
Boeuf bourguignon.
Breath. For many, the unmentionable.
- I beg your pardon, darling? - Just happened to be thinking about it.
Breath and false teeth and things.
You know, there's no real reason why we should wait.
- For what? - Paris.
We could leave in a week or so.
- We could even leave tomorrow. - You dropped your napkin, darling.
I'll buy a couple of polo necks, and we could hop on a plane.
Put an end to the misery of dentures. You could smile again with confidence.
Just ask Barbara Simmons.
Why did you say that?
Who is Barbara Simmons?
I don't know.
- Then why talk about her? - I don't know.
- You're not really trying, you know. - Trying what?
Trying not to talk about breath and false teeth
and people with names like Barbara Simmons.
I am, Julia. It's got nothing to do with me.
It's the you-know-what.
Well, it's ever so slightly getting on my nerves.
- I thought we weren't going to listen to it. - I can't help but listen to it.
And I can't stop the you-know-what saying it.
Stop saying "the you-know-what".
All right, then. The boil.
Darling, it is not the boil.
Don't you think I haven't noticed?
Every time you say something, you turn away
or hunch your shoulder or get under the table so I can't see your lips moving.
That's not the case, Julia. I'm not turning away to speak.
What it's doing is waiting till I turn away before it speaks.
That's nonsense! It was you that suggested France.
I did not, I merely confirmed what the boil said.
- Then stop siding with it! - Don't be ridiculous! I'm not siding with it!
I'm going crazy trying to incorporate it into my conversation so I won't upset you.
But I never know what it's going to say next.
What you'll say next. It's you saying it.
It's the boil, Julia! Believe me, it's the boil!
- I can't stand it any more. - How do you think I feel about it?
I'm on the coast of panic. I'm staring over the edge!
Just tell me how a boil
can come up with a name like Barbara Simmons?
Say no more, Julia. Don't say more.
Why should a boil suddenly suggest going to France?
- I don't know. - Why not Portugal?
I don't know. I don't know!
Perhaps the fucker wants to go up the Eiffel Tower!
Maybe the bastard wants to see the sights!
Sit down! I'm going to call Gatty.
- What for? - To see if he's got you in!
In where?
- Stay back! You need help! - I refuse to have that quack in here.
I refuse to be rendered unconscious.
You have got to see a psychiatrist.
Are you there, Julia?
Are you there?
I have to be very quiet.
He's a very light sleeper.
I wish I could come out and talk to you, darling.
But it's impossible. You've seen.
I have to tell you, Julia,
I'm getting increasingly concerned for my future.
I don't know how this will end.
For all I know, in a fortnight's time,
I'll be waking up with a bald head and a bit of a grin.
"How do you feel, Mr Bagley?" "Much better, thank you, doctor."
But the one thing I'm not, darling, is insane.
I'm 100 percent normal.
When I came in here, it was my intention to make a film.
I wanted to tell the world about advertising.
It's not finished, of course.
It's difficult to concentrate with a shanker yacking on your neck.
Incidentally, in case it's bothering you,
the reason I'm wearing this wine carton on my head
is so I can talk without disturbing it.
It can't hear, you see?
The world is in danger, Julia. The greed is out of control.
Greed is abolishing the future.
It's turning truth inside out and upside down.
And this is its poisonous mouthpiece.
Bollocks!
Oh, Christ! I think I've woken him up. I'll have to be quick.
What I have to explain is the mechanics of a holocaust.
Oh, dear, oh, dear.
I'm not talking about atom bombs, darling. I'm talking about hamburgers.
I had a nasty feeling I was going to have to wake up to this.
If I was you, I'd turn this off, Julia. It's only gonna upset you.
You see what a nightmare I'm in. You see why I can't talk to you.
Who are you talking to, then?
God, it converses. I'm talking to it.
- I need a cigarette. - Be silent, you Moloch!
- Moloch? - Yes, that's you, you Moloch, you bogey!
If you insist we have to listen to this bullshit, I need a cigarette.
All right, I'll get you one. But on one condition.
That you'll keep quiet while you're smoking it.
- Deal. - Swear!
I might be a shanker, but my word is my bond.
Don't turn off, darling. 60 seconds and I'll be back.
Oh, Mrs Wallace! I didn't know you were here.
- I thought everyone was out. - My husband's outside in the van.
- Is he? How is he? - He's waiting to collect me.
Is he? Julia out shopping?
Look, I wasn't actually going through your handbag. I need a cigarette.
Here, you can have them all.
I only want one. I don't smoke.
Got a light?
Vile. I'm glad I've given up.
Morning, darling. Lovely day.
Is it? Traffic's appalling.
You wouldn't make me a cup of tea, would you, Sylvia?
- Tea, Dennis? - No, thank you.
Don't pretend you haven't noticed my cardboard box, Julia,
because I know you have.
And I know Mrs, Wallace, God bless her, has noticed it too.
But there's a perfectly reasonable explanation,
which I'm afraid I don't have time to go into now.
Matter of fact, I'm very busy now. I better get back in there.
- Thanks for the cigarette, Mrs Wallace. - I thought you'd given up.
I have. I'm not smoking it. I'm just holding it.
- I'll be out later. - Don't be too long.
We're leaving in less than an hour.
Who's gonna tell me about it, then?
You or the boil?
No, no. I think we should start again.
There's no side to any of this. There is me. There is a boil.
The boil happens to be able to speak, but that doesn't qualify it to give an opinion.
It was me that decided to come here, not it.
You don't think the inclusion of the boil could perhaps help us?
No. I'm not interested in its opinions.
Even if it says something that might be of relevance?
I'm not interested in it, no matter what it says.
In my opinion, it should be lanced instantly.
It was the only reason I agreed to come off the garage roof.
If it wants to join in, it can pay its own bill.
Come and lie down.
Please.
Tell me about advertising.
Now, you resigned from an important firm with a very highly paid job.
I'd like to know your reasons.
Well, at least try and give me an example
of even one of those reasons.
All right. Reason one.
Advertising conspires with Big Brother.
And you're afraid of Big Brother?
Someone or something coming into your life
and telling you what to do?
No. I'm not afraid of him. I'm one of the few who really understands him.
Oh?
The man who conceived of Big Brother
never knew what was coming down the line.
Thought his filthy creation was gonna be watching us.
But it is us who watch it. There's one in every living room.
The monstrous injustice of it is, we stare at it of our own free will.
So we could say, principally, that it's television that you blame?
We can say entirely it is the crooks who've infiltrated it that I blame.
They've moved in on the greatest means of communication since the wheel.
And now they've done it, their greed is insatiable.
They're cutting down jungles to breed hamburgers,
turning the whole world into a car park.
They'd sell off the sea to satisfy the needs of their great god Greed.
They won't be satisfied, not till we're all squatting
in one of its fucking hatchbacks on a motorway.
There isn't going to be anywhere left to go
except in slow revolutions towards the crest of the next slag heap.
Do you have trouble in getting an erection?
- What? - Can you get an erection?
- Yes! - Masturbating much?
Constantly! I've got a talking boil on my neck!
What would you do?
What does this mean to you?
"Are you ashamed of your false teeth?
"Put an end to the miseries of dentures.
"You could smile again with confidence.
"Just ask Barbara Simmons."
The boil said it a few nights ago. Sounds like a particularly crude voiceover.
- Voiceover? - The voice that sells.
If you're selling perfume, it sounds like a lover.
If you're selling something inedible you want people to eat,
it'll sound as stupid as they'll have to be to buy it.
In this case, it would sound like a dentist, someone in the know.
I see. So one could say that it's, erm, the voice of authority?
Like, erm... Well, like a parent's voice, almost?
If you like.
Has the boil spoken this morning?
Yes, I had a row with it, and it got very heated when I refused to shave.
- Tell me about your parents. - Not part of the plot.
As far as I know, they were completely normal.
- I come from a completely normal family. - Tell him about your grandfather.
That was the boil. Ignore it.
I don't think we should do that.
It's the first time it's spoken in front of me, and it might be important.
It has nothing important to say. It is destructive, self-satisfied and abusive.
- You cun... - You see? Don't listen.
Come on. Fair's fair. You've had your say. Now I'll have mine.
Don't listen to it! Don't listen to it!
Why don't you tell me about your grandfather?
If you tell me, the boil might be quiet.
My grandfather was caught molesting a wallaby in a private zoo in 1919.
- A wallaby? - May have been a kangaroo. I'm not sure.
- You mean sexually? - Suppose so. He had his hand in its pouch.
- Fucked it, didn't he? - He did not fuck it!
Just... just lie back.
- What happened to him? - He pleaded insanity and got three months.
Does the authoritarian attitude they took with him upset you?
- No. He died before I was born. - Do you sympathise with him?
If I had been stuck in a trench for three years,
- I might do something stupid myself. - Like showing affection for an animal?
- He'd fuck one. - Shut up!
Ask Barbara Simmons. He'd fuck her as well.
Oh, my God. How could the boil have possibly known about my grandfather?
That means it can read my mind.
No, Mr Bagley, it does not.
We'll speak about that in a moment, when we've had a look at this boil.
What you mean is you want me to have a look at it. No.
What would you say if I said that you don't want to look at it
because you're frightened of what you might see?
I'd say you'd be absolutely right.
Isn't that trying to pretend it doesn't exist?
Isn't that exactly what you're accusing everyone else of doing?
Now, we must reduce this guilt in two ways.
First, it must be physically reduced with surgery.
And secondly, we must reduce your punishing conscience
by refusing to allow it to hide.
Once we get it out into the open, it'll be easier to fight.
And I'm certain that by the time your neck's healed,
you'll be smiling at this problem and be back at work.
Never. No matter what you reduce, I will never go back to advertising.
Perhaps. But now, let's have a look at this bully on your neck.
Just look at it in the mirror...
and tell me what you see.
Oh, God in heaven!
It's grown a moustache!
Oh, my God!
- Oh, my God. - Yes.
- Yes? - The bastard looks just like me!
What you must understand
is that it's not the boil that can read you.
It is you, Mr Bagley, that can read the boil.
You can read it because it is you.
At least, a part of you.
The boil knows what you're thinking
because you've projected some of you into it.
You've given it the side that you find intolerable,
the bullying, aggressive, dictatorial side.
The side that sells toothpaste and soap.
You've decided that selling these things is a bad thing for you to do,
and you are unable to accept the guilt for what you feel you've done.
Therefore, you've transmitted these qualities into the boil.
Perhaps, by doing this, you hope to escape your guilt.
But you've created a symbol of foul-mouthed authority instead.
Your very own Big Brother.
- Welcome back. My name's Debra. - My head.
Come on. Let's sit you up straight.
Up we go. There we are.
- Have they done it? - In the morning.
- You hungry? - No.
I'll bring you something anyway. There's beef burgers or fish fingers.
I can hardly move my arms. I can hardly move anything.
Barbiturate. They gave you a whopping dose.
You should have had the fish fingers.
Mouthwatering fillets of young cod, matey,
in a crisp, golden batter, my mate.
Shut up. You never talk in front of people, so don't talk in front of me.
Suit yourself. Suit yourself. Suit yourself.
Just thought you might be interested in a little light rabbit to while the time away.
Fuck me. What I wouldn't do for a cigarette.
- Who are you? What do you want? - I am your better half.
- You're not! - Mais oui, je suis.
A very expensive psychiatrist told you I was.
He did not! You're just a dirty carbuncle.
There's no reason to raise your voice.
There's no reason why we shouldn't pass these last few hours together amicably.
- Be quiet. - That wouldn't be fair.
I listened to you and all that Big Brother muck.
Don't mind telling you, I was bored stiff.
I had absolutely nothing to do under there.
Except tend me moustache, of course.
'Ere, you know why I grew it? Big Granddad.
How did you find out about my grandfather?
Walls have ears, Dennis. I overheard Julia telling Gatty.
Nice pair of tits, Julia.
I believe you was unconscious at the time.
You bastard! I only have one wish,
and that is that I could be awake to see you lanced.
I'd like to see the knife going in.
I'd like to see you suffer.
- A typically communist statement. - I'm not a communist!
Yes, you are. You want to take everyone's car away.
I do not want to take anything from anyone.
I want to give them the choice of something better.
- Oh, yes? What? - Trains.
Trains? Trains are no good. They're old-fashioned.
- I hate trains. They're rotten. - Only because they don't consume.
Only because they're already there and don't eat up more and more and more.
That's why you hate them. That's why government hates them.
That's why they're old-fashioned and rotten.
- You commies don't half talk a lot of shit. - Shut up! I'm not a communist!
I refuse to argue with a carbuncle.
- You are a communist. - Fuck off!
That's very rude of you, Mr Bagley.
Nobody's forcing you to have supper.
I'm sorry. That wasn't directed at you.
- Lovely. - Thought you'd change your mind.
That wasn't me. That was the boil.
I've heard all about your boil, Mr Bagley.
- Now, you tuck in and enjoy it. - It's no good.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn't eat. I can't move my arm.
Looks like you're doing fine to me.
Oh, my God! Nurse!
It's the boil shaking it!
- It's the boil! Aah! Aah! - Mmm.
Aah! Ah!
Oh, my God!
Oh, my God! Aah!
Oh, Jesus! Oh! Oh, my God!
He's got my hand! He's got my arm!
You think I'd let a little pipsqueak like you undermine society,
ruin everything we've got?
Piss like you needs dealing with! You're the enemy within!
Nurse! Nurse! Nurse! Nurse!
Do you think I could have a pillow?
Yes, of course.
Thank you, Debbie. May I call you Debbie?
You're talking to the wrong head!
Sorry, dear. I get these nasty spasms.
Help! Help! Help! Help!
Shut up! I've had enough of you!
Mmph!
Help! Help! Help! Help! Help!
- Help! Help! - Put some pressure on his arm.
No! No! It's the boil! Aah!
Don't you worry, old man. You have a little sleep.
It'll all be over in the morning.
- Mm! - Help! Help!
No!
No, don't! Don't lance the wrong...
head...
John. Bagley. I want to see you.
No, no. Just a couple of fuses blew. Stitches coming out in a week.
Listen, we've got to talk about this pimple cream.
Yeah, yeah, I know he has. Forget the problems.
I'll take care of the problems.
They're gonna love waiting for it.
It's a massacre.
But I've gotta warn you, at first it might sound ridiculous.
It's radical and not without its risks, but I'm certain I can pull it off.
And what it is, is Lawrence of Arabia
and a little town called Aqaba.
The last thing they expected was for Lawrence
to come roaring across the desert and attack them from behind.
It seemed impossible. And because it was impossible,
all their defences faced the wrong way.
And that's how I want to sell this pimple cream.
I want to come in from behind, where they least expect me,
just like Lawrence of Arabia.
Now. As I see it, we've gotta forget this for at least three months.
I estimate that as the very minimum we need
to create the ravenous market I'm after.
- And how are you gonna do that? - By glamorising boils.
- Glamorise them? - That's right.
I want to make them fashionable.
I want to encourage every kid to take a pride in his breakouts.
I want to sell them the idea that boils are beautiful.
If I can do that, I can treble the market at a minimum.
That's absurd.
To sell atom bombs, you've got to sell fear.
If you want to sell this pimple cream, you've got to encourage pimples.
How?
People try and put us down
Talkin' about my generation
Just because we get around
Talkin' about my generation
Things they do look awful cold
Talkin' about my generation
I hope I die before I get old
Talkin' about my generation
This is my generation
This is my generation, baby
Why don't you all just fade away?
Talkin' about my generation
Don't try to dig what we all say
Talkin' about my generation
I'm not trying to cause a big sensation
Talkin' about my generation
I'm just talkin' about my generation
Talkin' about my generation This is my generation
Talkin' about my generation
This is my generation
This is my generation, baby? Talkin' about my...
Cut! Cut! One more, boys. Get it right.
- Open the doors. - Gotta go, Bagley.
- Richard, are you free Saturday? - Yeah.
Julia's putting a party together. It's our anniversary.
If you like, we'd love you along.
Oh! What are you doing?
Wake up, man! We're in mortal peril!
- How'd it go? - Terrific.
- She's gonna be terrific. - The stitches.
Terrific. Didn't feel a thing.
Coming up to bed, darling?
Mm, in a minute. Just watching this.
- It's fascinating. - What is it?
A thriller.
Don't be too long, because I'm practically dead.
I didn't know you'd invited Penny.
Of course I invited Penny. You'd better be nice to her, cos she's my friend.
Poor Penny. I'm surprised she'd come.
I suppose she does it out of some sort of social duty,
like organising Dutch caps for the Hindus.
It's nearly eight. Hurry up.
There's just this little piece of neck here I need to kiss.
You're looking very summery, Penny.
Thank you. It's a Meilleur, made in India.
Happy anniversary, darling.
Are you having an affair, Julia?
- No. - Then what's up?
Oh, I don't know. I'm just so wound up about Dennis,
terrified his thing will start talking again.
- Well, it hasn't, has it? - Not exactly.
But I had this terrible, terrible dream, Penny, a nightmare,
- and I can't get it out of my head. - Mrs Bagley, the musicians are here.
Tell them to come in, Sylvia, do whatever they like.
We can't talk here. Come and have a drink.
It said Dennis wasn't my husband. It said it was.
And it said it with this horrible sort of mouth.
It said Dennis is an incarnation of evil with a briefcase.
It kept going on about a briefcase.
Then it said, "Zero, zero, zero," again and again and again.
- And what's "Zero, zero, zero"? - It's horrendous. I don't know.
- And that's it? - No.
Then it told me to get an electric carving knife and cut his head off.
It's not funny, Penny. It's the most terrifying experience of my life.
- So real, it could have been real. - Have you told Dennis?
Of course not. The last thing I want to do is excite him.
I tell you, Penny, I'm still waiting to scream about it.
- Come along. - Along where?
- We're gonna look in the case. - Don't be so silly.
Dennis doesn't even have a briefcase. He loathes them.
- Uses an old doctor's bag. - Then, with all due respect,
I hardly see that I should be the one accused of being silly.
It's you that's had the silly dream.
And, under the circumstances, I'm surprised you get to sleep at all.
I personally would be up all night with a revolver.
It's not just the dream, Penny.
Ever since Dennis came out of hospital,
he's been peculiar, sexually.
He's obsessed with blackheads and fucking.
- And not in that order. - But you've always adored fucking.
Not when I'm cleaning my teeth, I don't! Not when I'm doing anything, I don't.
The truth is, Penny, I can't bear him touching me.
I don't know why, but I can't. I'm running out of headaches.
He's absolutely sex mad.
Yesterday evening, he said he wished I had nipples on my arse.
Don't!
That's just the least of it.
Lord, they're arriving. I'll tell you about this later.
You breathe a word of this to anyone, Penny, and I'll absolutely kill you.
- Hello. - Ah!
- Hello, darling. - Mm! Dying for a pee. This is Monica.
- Hello, Monica. Come and have a drink. - Thank you.
- Penny Wheelstock. - Hello.
- This is the most lovely room. - Thank you.
And, uh, how long have you been married?
- Seven years. - Congratulations.
- Snap. - Sorry?
- You're wearing Le De. Givenchy. - Oh!
It's my totally favourite scent, and they've stopped making it.
Have they? I bought it in Marbella.
Did you? Well, you're lucky. It's extinct.
Richard, darling, can I get something over with?
- Then we can all forget about it. - Sure.
I didn't really want to have this party. I thought we might be rushing it a bit.
Dennis's psychiatrist thinks it's a good idea to get him back into the swim.
But he's all right, isn't he?
- I've never seen him on such good form. - Absolutely. He's fine.
But he just had his stitches out, so naturally, we're a bit apprehensive.
So if anything happens, which I'm certain it won't,
the idea is we all sort of go along with him.
- We humour him, discreetly. - Not exactly, Penny.
We just behave normally. I don't want him excited.
- I certainly don't want any arguments. - What's the matter with him?
He was overworked and nearly had a breakdown, but he's much better now.
You're alive.
Can you speak?
You don't look at all well, you know.
Not being a medical man, I wouldn't take my word for it,
but I'd say you had the mark.
You look like a doomed bollock.
- I want to speak to my wife. - Oh, you can talk, can you?
Let me speak to Julia, and I swear I'll never speak again.
Speak to her of what, boil?
I want her to see my film. Please?
Oh, so that's what's worrying you, is it?
Well, let me put your mind at rest.
Firstly, on a purely ideological basis,
it's out of the question.
And second, I burnt it.
- Oh, no! - Oh, yes.
And prepare yourself for another little fluctuation of blood pressure,
cos it's not the only thing I've burnt.
- I've also burnt Julia's diaphragm. - Oh, no!
Oh, yes! It's time Julia had a baby.
- Ogre! - Hopefully a baby boy-bol.
You are a criminal ogre.
It's all quite normal, boil.
Now, I intend to commence vigorous intercourse at about one am.
I don't want to go too far into the details of what this might mean,
but if I was you, I'd have an early night.
Cut your throat, monster.
In the name of humanity, cut your filthy throat.
Don't start getting emotional.
I'll do everything I can to harm you!
You can't harm me, you miserable little bit of garbage.
You'll be dead in a couple of days,
so why don't you try and do it with some dignity?
Dignity? You're corruption.
Julia! Julia!
50 per cent of politics is about creating a problem.
The other 50 percent is about offering to solve it.
All you've got to do is bugger something up,
then hasten to your nearest TV station with a solution.
Doesn't matter what it is. The environment, hospitals, crime...
Create a crime wave and up will pop some perfectly plausible head-selling police.
- The rock through the window technique. - That's exactly what it is.
It might work on everyone else. It doesn't work on me.
If you breathe air, it works on you. Large one, no ice, please, Richard.
If you're aware of it, how can you bear to work in an industry that perpetuates it?
It's probably a defect from birth. Come and rescue me. I'm being attacked.
- Who's attacking you? - Penelope here.
She's telling me off because I think your husband's a genius.
It's outrageous that Dennis should be allowed to manipulate children's minds.
There is the dear boy. Come along. I want to ask you both a question.
Is that him?
- He's very good-looking. - If you like that sort of thing.
- Julia seems terribly tense. - Surprised? It's him.
He had an operation. Went weird in the bed department.
- What do you mean? - Sex. Hello, Basil.
- Hello, Penny. Lovely party. - Super.
- Apparently, he's insatiable. - Really?
Dick, dick, dick, dick, dick.
Shouldn't really be telling you this. It was said in the strictest of confidence.
And that's exactly how I'm telling you.
She said he's got a permanent horn.
- Really? - She said she's desperate.
The other night, she woke up and caught him
down the bed with a huge black rubber torch.
- Torch? - Flashlight.
- Doing what? - Scrutinising.
He was under the covers. Said he'd lost something. Contact lens.
Said he didn't want to wake her up.
And unlucky for her that he did, cos she got another hour's worth.
I'm not going to make a speech. I'd just like to thank you all for coming
and for making our anniversary so special.
And most of all, I'd like to thank Julia for organising it all
and for being such a special wife.
How about a toast to Bagley and Julia?
- Bagley and Julia. - Bagley and Julia.
I'd also like to propose a small snifter to our new star.
- I thought she was coming. - She is, she's been held up.
- To Phyllis Blokey. - Phyllis.
- Blokey.
- She's the singer with the boils. - To boils, acne and blackheads.
What's this cream going to be called, anyway?
Don't know yet. Right now we're stuck with "Filthy Harry's Final Solution".
- Who's Filthy Harry? - You know, Harry Wax. Creative.
- The only man here in a hired suit. - He's as close as a Doberman's balls.
Don't want to say anything bad about him.
- Then don't. - This is excellent.
Yes, I was about to say, I notice Penny's gone carnivorous.
- She lacked protein. - And minerals.
I wasn't getting all I needed out of normal green stuff.
I don't think anyone would ever encourage me to grow boils.
You're not the market I'm after, darling.
But if you were, I would.
I could sell you anything from a boil to a hydrogen bomb.
- I don't think so. I'm anti-nuke. - Hear, hear.
How's the new book coming along, Penny?
Shall I tell you why people buy hydrogen bombs?
Because they're not like the bombs people used to use in wars.
We put an added ingredient into bombs these days.
It's called peace.
Our warheads are stuffed to the brim with it.
We're years ahead of the competition, of course.
- The Russians don't put peace in theirs. - Very good, Bagley.
Can anyone think of a discreet way of changing the subject?
I'm sorry, Julia. I'm afraid Dennis is absolutely right.
There's a splendid example of what he's talking about outside our building.
- Ever looked at it? - Can't say as I have.
Well, there's an obelisk there to the glory of the Royal Marines,
and it's a plaque depicting a Marine shoving his bayonet into a Chinaman's guts.
He's so shocked, his pigtail's sticking up like an exclamation mark.
And underneath it says, "Shanghai Campaign, 1898."
Imagine seeing that in Peking. A plaque of a Chinaman
pumping his bayonet into an Englishman halfway up Regent Street,
a bowler hat, levitating in shock,
and underneath, "West London Campaign, 1898."
Why don't you shut your trap, you cynical old anus?
A joke. Just a joke.
Don't think the bandages might be a bit on the tight side, Bagley?
No. Perfect, thank you.
Julia! Julia!
Are you all right, darling?
Marvellous.
Would you excuse me for a moment?
I tell you, he's absolutely barking.
Criminal. You filthy criminal!
Shut up, you little moron! I'd like to wring your bastard neck!
Do it, then. Do it. Put me out of my misery.
Oh, no, not yet, you unwholesome pustule.
I want you to live just a bit longer.
I want you around tonight when the shagging begins.
Tasty bit of glue, is it?
Here, have another suck.
Let's hear you squawk now.
So I chaffed them and I gaily laughed
To think they would doubt my love
Yet today, my love has gone away
I am without my love
Come on, Julia. Come and dance.
Not now, darling.
Come on. I insist.
Go on. It's his anniversary.
Smoke gets in your eyes
- Have you got a cold? - Not my drug.
I know that smell. Givenchy.
Oh! You don't have to hold me quite so tightly, Dennis.
Sorry. Afraid the clinch is the only dance I know.
Heh.
Oh, Julia. Julia, darling.
No. Monica.
I know.
Julia. Please don't scream or pull away.
We might never get this chance again.
It's difficult for me to talk, because my sinuses are full of glue.
You're not wearing a bra.
Not really.
I love you. I love you desperately.
This isn't a dream. It's reality.
Don't speak. Just listen. I'm desperate.
You're going to need a condom, and quick!
The fucking's going to start in about an hour,
and believe me, you're going to have a monster on top of you.
Aah!
Stay away from me! Keep away!
Has the bastard been whispering to you? Bastard! Bastard!
- It's all right. - Bastard!
Oh!
Everything's under control. Please stay and enjoy the party.
- Sorry. - Monica?
I'm sorry, Julia, but I think your husband's completely bananas!
Going along with someone is not the same as listening to a tirade of obscenity!
- What did he say? - I can't tell you.
- I'm sorry, Julia. - Bye, darling.
- Lovely party. - Thank you.
- Richard, your case. - Oh, no, it's not mine.
It belongs to Bagley. He left it at the studio.
Boil?
Boil!
Boil.
Boil!
Can you hear me, boil?
Where has he hidden the briefcase?
The world is in danger, Julia.
The greed is out of control.
Greed is abolishing the future.
It's turning truth inside out and upside down.
And this is its poisonous mouthpiece.
Oh, Christ, I think I've woken him up. I'll have to be quick.
What I have to explain is the mechanics of a holocaust.
And I'm not talking about atom bombs, darling.
I'm talking about hamburgers.
I had a nasty feeling I was going to have to wake up to this.
If I was you, Julia, I'd turn this off.
- It's only going to upset you. - You see what a nightmare I'm in.
You see why I can't talk to you.
- Who are you talking to, then? - God, it converses!
- I'm talking to it. - I need a cigarette.
- Be silent, you Moloch. - Moloch?
Yes, yes, you, you Moloch, you bogey!
If you insist we have to listen to this bullshit, I need a cigarette.
All right, I'll get you one, but on one condition.
That you keep quiet while you're smoking it.
Don't turn off, darling. 60 seconds, and I'll be back.
Penny said you had a bad dream.
Did she? Well, she shouldn't have.
She said the boil had spoken to you.
It didn't. Believe me, it didn't.
- It told me where you'd hidden the case. - It didn't.
I told you where I'd put the briefcase.
I didn't dare wake up and ask
why you decided to vacuum clean me in the middle of the night.
I told you where I'd put the case
because I'm all too aware of the tension you've been trying to conceal.
And, painful though it is for me,
I thought by letting you discover the film for yourself,
it would have some sort of therapeutic effect.
There'd be no more secrets, nothing left to hide.
I realise, of course, that was foolish.
If the boil didn't speak to me, how did I know the combination?
Because it's written up in the kitchen.
It's been on the bulletin board for weeks.
You must have seen it 200 times.
I never noticed noticing it.
It's on a red and white receipt. I'll go and get it, if you like.
I realise I've been very selfish.
So busy thinking of the stress I was under,
I'd completely forgotten what a terrible time it's been for you.
I really don't want you to watch this, darling.
I intended to burn it. It's only going to upset you.
I'm already upset.
Please be quiet.
Are you there? I pray you're there.
I've just seen you in the kitchen. I know you think I'm crazy,
but in a minute, I'll show you my film
and you can judge my madness for yourself.
Everything's assembled from my old ads.
All I've done is re-edit them, re-voice them and put in the truth.
No truth ever gets out of here.
They've got this bastard by the balls.
Greed has installed its lackeys into the highest offices in this land,
and they're conducting a crime wave of unprecedented ferocity.
Anywhere you want to look, they're at it.
Oil companies sold as champions of the environment.
Wild animals prancing through the woodlands.
Meanwhile, the filth from their cars is wiping out half the forests of Europe.
- I can't listen to any more of this. - You swore you'd be quiet!
Yeah, but I'd forgotten what a nightmare you are.
I want to be heard. I want to be heard!
- I want a drink. - Then get it yourself.
Jesus, I've forgotten what I was going to say.
I believe you were about to explain
why hamburgers are going to be the cause of World War III.
That's right, you cynical bastard.
- We're all ears. - How can you argue with the television?
Because this poor, sick creature with a box on his head was me.
I know exactly what I'm going to say.
Destruction of the rainforests by, amongst other things, hamburgers,
is going to lead to a world commodity crisis, and the commodity will be oxygen.
- What mad bollocks. - It is not mad bollocks.
They're turning rainforests into deserts.
Within 25 years, the Brazilians will be fixing oxygen prices
in exactly the same way as the Arabs fix the price for oil.
- No more! - You want the air, you pay for it.
- No more! - Leave it on, Dennis!
I want to watch the film!
I don't know how you can say that.
You know what this does to me, reliving this nightmare?
Look at him. He's got a cigarette stuck in his bandages. The man's mad.
Why do you keep calling him him? It's you!
All right, me. It was me. But I was ill.
You were the one that said so. You can't have it both ways, darling.
You said I needed help, and I got help, and now I'm better,
which is why I can't bear to watch this dreadful insanity.
Insanity? You still want to sell 'em boils!
Nothing crazy about that. It's a free market.
People will either buy or they won't buy.
Nobody's forcing them. Everyone knows what they're getting.
- Perhaps they don't. - Of course they do.
People might be a bit greedy from time to time,
but we're not blind, we've got our eyes open.
- We have a choice. - Perhaps.
Stop saying perhaps! What's perhaps got to do with it?
Perhaps they don't.
Perhaps if they'd hanged Jesus Christ,
we'd all be kneeling in front of a fucking gibbet!
That isn't the real world.
In the real world, I have a choice.
Do I want it, or don't I?
And in this case, I most certainly do not.
"I thought leaving you was going to be so difficult.
"But the impossible becomes easy when you have no choice.
"I want something better now that can't be bought.
"I want a better world than yours is, Dennis.
"I'm not gonna try and explain it,
"because I know you couldn't possibly understand.
"Goodbye. Julia."
God, how can you be so naive?
Everything you've ever looked at was yours.
What more could you possibly want?
- The truth. - Shut up, you dozy scab!
I thought you were dead.
Not for nothing, cos she's free.
You lose. You lose.
Oh, no I don't.
You're talking to Dennis Dimbleby Bagley.
And let me tell you something, boil.
She's got nowhere to go.
We're living in a shop.
The world is one magnificent fucking shop,
and if it hasn't got a price tag, it isn't worth having.
There is no greater freedom than freedom of choice,
and that's the difference between you and me, boil.
I was brought up to believe in that, and so should you, but you don't.
You don't want freedom, do you? You don't even want roads.
God, I never want to go on another train as long as I live.
Roads represent a fundamental right of man
to have access to the good things in life.
Without roads, established family favourites would become elitist delicacies.
A pot of soup would be for the few.
There'd be no more tea bags, no instant potatoes, no long-life cream.
There'd be no aerosols. Detergents would vanish.
So would tinned spaghetti and baked beans with six frankfurters.
The right to smoke one's chosen brand would be denied.
Chewing gum would probably disappear. So would pork pies.
Foot deodorisers would climax without hope of replacement.
When the hydrolysed protein and monosodium glutamate reserves ran out,
food would rot in its packets.
Jesus Christ, there wouldn't be any more packets.
Packaging would vanish from the face of the earth.
But worst of all, there'd be no more cars.
And more than anything, people love their cars.
They have a right to them. If they have to sweat all day
in some stinking factory making disposable lighters or Christmas trees,
by Christ, they're entitled to them.
They're entitled to any innovation technology brings,
whether it's ten per cent more of it or 15 per cent off of it!
They're entitled to it.
They're entitled to one of four important new ingredients.
Why should anyone have to clean their teeth without important new ingredients?
Why the hell shouldn't they have their CZT?
How dare some snotty Marxist carbuncle presume to deny them it?
They love their CZT!
They want it! They need it! They positively adore it!
By Christ, while I've got air in my body, they're going to get it!
They're gonna get it bigger and brighter and better!
I'll put CZT in their margarine if necessary,
shove vitamins in their toilet rolls.
If happiness means the whole world
standing on a double layer of foot deodorisers,
I, Bagley, will see that they get them!
I'll give them anything and everything they want!
By God, I will!
I shall not cease
till Jerusalem is builded here
on England's green and pleasant land!