Ripped By mstoll
Rajasthan was the biggest let-down.
Couldn't get near the temples for coaches.
Oh, God! It's two fifteen.
So you see, there's no way we'd go there again in March.
It is so dry and the place is riddled with tourists.
Oh, belt up!
Sarah phoned her design editor in London and said we're off to Kashmir. Just like that!
Oh, bully for you! Now go.
The funny thing about Kashmir was, that though it wasn't at all what I'd imagined it to be,
I just couldn't stop taking rolls and rolls of film.
Oh, put a sock in it, woman!
God, what I'd give for some Polyfilla right now.
It was just after the monsoon season, with those brilliant fresh skies.
There was something about the light. I didn't even have to use a filter. What's more...
Do you realise you came here at six for dinner, not a package holiday?
Please let me get home to my bed.
Oh, sweet pillow!
Oh, duvet darling!
Colin?
I'll have a duvet, no sugar.
What?
- Sorry. Sorry. - It's time we were going, I think.
Richard, please don't go. I want to hear more about the job. I hear it's going really well.
Jen! What are you doing?
Don't any of them realise the human body actually needs sleep?
It's genetically programmed for it. I mean, don't THEY need it?
I mean, what are they?
Maybe they're organisms from some insomniac asteroid.
...Maybe I'll go to Kenya after all. I've always wanted the Kenya portfolio.
How about going to Kenya now?
I forgot to tell you. Richard's too modest.
He's swung that lecture tour in California next year.
Oh, Richard! That's brilliant!
Stuff Richard! Stuff California!
It should be a nice mixture - one or two seminars, a conference now and then,
the odd weekend in San Francisco.
By the way, what do you do, Colin?
Hm?
I... Erm, I work for British Rail.
Actually, we really must be going now.
Yeah, we're keeping you up. That was a lovely evening, Jen.
It's ages since you've been over.
British Rail, then? That must be interesting.
Colin's sort of on the, er, PR side.
Yeah, I work in the complaints department, you know.
You must get lots of funny stories, I suppose?
No, no. One foul-tempered person is pretty much like any other.
- Nice to have met you. - Yah!
"Oh, one foul-tempered person is much the same as another."
Why should I have to justify myself to them?
These people wittering on about their wonderful jobs!
"Oh, here comes Sarah looking quite elegant in her 25,000 a year salary,
her three months annual paid holiday and her free trip to the Seychelles,
with her editorial freedom and creative carte blanche trailing gracefully behind her.
Oh, look! Here comes Richard looking stunningly suave in a plum university post."
- Yuck! - They're talented...
- Pushy! - Talented, creative people,
who've had the initiative to get a job they want to do and enjoy doing it.
Is that a crime? And what's so wrong if they don't want a tedious, mundane job?
- Yes! What is that supposed to mean? - It's not supposed to mean anything.
- Yes. My job's tedious and mundane, isn't it? - Well, you said it, not me.
Look, when will you people ever realise,
it's not jobs that are exciting or boring, it's people who make them what they are.
I mean, any idiot can have fun faffing around the Himalayas
taking pictures of elephants' bottoms.
Well, I'm sorry your boredom threshold didn't extend beyond the gin and tonics,
but she did say she was a fashion photographer.
All right, so the elephants wear Levis.
What I'm saying... What I'm saying is, anyone, anyone can hold down a glamorous job,
but the nuts and bolts of the daily round, that's another thing.
That demands true creativity.
I mean, I will go into that job on Monday morning knowing it's me and me alone
that makes the day worthwhile.
All right, Colin? Good!
Mr Travers! Mr Travers.
- Yes, Colin? - Um...
You know what you said about making copies
of all of our customer correspondence since 1961?
Yes.
Well, there's over 40,000 letters there.
Quite so.
I just thought, if Trevor and Graham could lend a hand,
- we could do it in shifts, you see? - No way, Colin. Absolutely not.
- Oh. - Colin...
I sleep easier at night knowing the right man is on the job.
Between you and me... I find Trevor and Graham just a wee bit, er,
"Bolshevik" in their attitude. No, Colin, the job is yours.
Thanks!
- Are you going to be long? - Erm, about a week.
Well, when you get a minute, can you squeeze this lot in for me?
I want one copy of each and I'm not in a hurry. Thanks.
Anyone want anything else doing at all?
Drain need unblocking, bit of hoovering perhaps?
Anyone want to be carried to work in the morning? I mean, please, feel free!
Oh, come on, Watkins, you've been staring at this paragraph for the last half an hour.
"We watched, trembling, as the door to the archives swung slowly open.
Jenkins was the first to see it and started retching, instantly.
Mrs Darlington screamed, then, I too, on the verge of passing out, saw..."
Now come on, Watkins, what did you see?
Corpse?
Severed head?
An onion bhaji?
Oh, shut up!
I bet Stephen King doesn't have to plod into work every day.
Probably wrote The Shining in his jacuzzi.
There is only one thing for it - atmosphere.
Oh, God! I'm going bananas!
"Mrs Darlington screamed, then I too, on the verge of passing out, saw...
...the machine.
Grey and menacing in the twilight,
belching copies...
in an endless and diabolical stream.
Reduced, enlarged,
A4, quarto.
Spitting its white bile everywhere."
"Toner liquid oozed from its gaping bowels."
No, no, no, no!
"Gushed, lava-like...
from its... gaping bowels."
Everything all right, Col?
Oh, yeah, yeah, delirious, yeah.
I spent the entire morning photocopying complaints from a Mr G W Pemberton.
The entire 1971 file, full of it. Look!
Here's one about the 9:45 from Tilbury South.
The 17:45 from Theydon Bois.
The sandwiches on the eight o'clock to Colchester.
The sausage rolls on the 10:15 back from Colchester.
No luggage trolleys at Gidea Park.
Being called a... fat dildo by a guard at South Romford.
Oh, yes!
Finding a dead squirrel in his left-luggage locker at Fenchurch Street.
Look at it. Piles of the stuff! Does he own shares in Basildon Bond or something?
Look, Col, I, er, had a word with Travers this morning.
- Oh, yes? - Yeah.
Said you was enjoying this so much
that me and Graham didn't mind if you hogged all the photocopying from now on.
Oh, the wit of Millwall supporters.
Cheer up, Col. Coming down the Feathers tonight after work?
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, I'm going straight home tonight.
I see. Bloody poof!
Wild horses wouldn't drag me down that sweat-hole tonight.
No, I've got it all worked out. No writing tonight.
I'm going to have a bath,
a long, hot bath.
And I'm not talking about your common-or-garden bath.
I'm talking about an hour-long rim-lapper.
I'm going to lie there and stew
until I'm covered in wrinkles.
Let's see what's on the old agenda tonight.
World Cup Highlights - The Past 50 Years.
Have a prawn cocktail with that, I think.
Then there's the chicken Kiev, that should see us through The Return of Sherlock Holmes.
Then the gooseberry fool with the Marx Brothers at 10:30.
And then... The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.
Yes, if I've got space left, I'll finish off the truffles during that.
Eeh!
Mm!
Mmm!
Bastards!!!
You've seen The Good, The Bad and The Ugly 12 times!
I wanted to see it a 13th.
Well, I told you we were going out tonight last Sunday.
Blackheath! Bloody Blackheath!
There is a world out there beyond the bottle bank at the end of your street, you know.
Oh, but you had Richard and Sarah over only last week.
They're going away for three months on Friday
and they wanted to get their outstanding invites out of the way.
The hate "owing" dinners. Would you keep still?!
If they hate owing dinners so much, why don't we just charge 'em then, eh?
They wouldn't owe us anything, would they?
Tenner each and give them a couple of peppermints on the way out.
Oh, yes, why have any social intercourse at all?
We could all just gather round a trough each week and grunt at each other.
- Look, we need some wine. - Yeah, there's some in the fridge.
Hmm? Yep.
I really love the spontaneity of your social life, you know.
You should be like the Gas Board. Send out reminders, you know.
"You'll be owing us dinner shortly.
You'll be owing us dinner very shortly."
And the final demand, "If we don't hear from you within the next 24 hours,
we'll be on your front doorstep at seven o'clock on the dot tomorrow night
expecting a ten-course banquet and witty repartee."
All right, I'll go on my own.
Sorry. It's my fault.
I just fantasised the whole day about having a nice evening in, that's all.
Look, I don't particularly want to go either,
but it's just that Sarah's been given this fantastic assignment in Bengal.
I mean, naturally she wants to share the celebrations with all her friends.
Yeah. What, Richard off as well, is he?
Oh, yes, he's going to take an unpaid sabbatical.
This trip's a once in a lifetime. How they're going to afford it, though, I don't know?
They've only just bought this place in Blackheath.
So what are they going to do in Bengal for three months, then?
Well, Sarah will be going round the towns and villages.
Some fashion house wants Indian themes for its autumn collection.
Yes. Off to India, eh? I do love these crazes, don't you?
Try a vindaloo, see a couple of episodes of Jewel In The Crown
and they're hanging out the portholes of every 747 between here and Delhi.
I hope they remember to have their jabs.
We don't want them catching any of those "frightful diseases", do we?
It's scorching hot over there, but I've no doubt they'll find a half-decent wine bar
somewhere in Calcutta.
Yes! Move over, Mother Teresa, here come the missionaries of Saint Habitat the Faithful
and Saint Benetton the Innocent, clicking away with their Nikons.
Let's just hope the starving millions keep their best side to camera.
- Finished? - No, and...
- I'm worried. - About what?
Well, their having a whopping great mortgage
and Richard taking all that time off to go to India!
I wish there was some way in which we could help. I've got it!
- What? - Venables-fam.
What are you on about?
You know those cardigans I was going to take down the Oxfam shop?
We could start a fund for Richard and Sarah Venables, couldn't we?
I could run off some leaflets at work and shove 'em through doors this evening.
No, no, I think we should pull together to help them across this really tough stage.
It must be awful. I mean, what with the new conservatory and the Swedish kitchen.
It must be traumatic. I don't know how they cope with it.
They've probably been reduced to buying plonk!
I'll get Richard and Sarah to sit in the stocks and you can pelt them with rotten tomatoes.
And these bloody labels!! I mean, what do they do with them?!
Use Superglue? Spot-weld them on?
Why don't they just engrave the bloody price in the glass?
No, better still, Tesco's could ring up Richard and Sarah
and tell them that our bottle of Frascati cost £1.99!
Colin, shut up! God, you're being foul tonight. Snap out of it!
Sorry, I've had a bitch of a week, that's all.
That is why you should get out tonight and meet some fresh faces.
I am going to be lumbered with a cataclysmic bore. I can feel it in my bones.
You never know, you might actually meet someone riveting who'll change your life.
Now on a weekday you won't make South Mimms in under 20 minutes.
Saturdays, it's gonna take you half an hour to get off the Reigate bypass.
Then there's roadworks all the way from Denham,
and, of course, if you go anti-clockwise, you get the Dartford Tunnel.
Try that on a Friday evening - it's murder!
All the way to South Ockendon - it'll have you slashing your wrists.
- No, I'm an A25 man every time. - I see.
Mind you, there's one thing I don't like about the A25 and that's the mini-roundabouts.
- I've never seen the point of mini-roundabouts. - No.
All you get is all this white splodge in the middle of the road.
I don't know why you don't have a good, solid traffic light, get it over with.
Mind you, you'd need two sets of traffic lights. One for the traffic going one way...
Why spend millions of pounds on Trident...
One for traffic going the other. No, hang on, you'd need four, wouldn't you? Think about it.
... when this guy could wipe out half of Leningrad in an afternoon?
- Top-up, Colin? - Mm? Oh! Thanks, yeah.
Ted?
Er, actually, no. I'll take a raincheck. Nature calls.
Upstairs, second on the right. If you want any more, Colin, help yourself.
Thanks a lot.
It's not exactly Chateau Lafite, but with the new kitchen and the trip to India,
we're having to make do with the old plonk.
- I saw you got lumbered with old Ted. - Yes, he, erm...
He certainly knows his M25, doesn't he?
He's got a heart of gold, actually. As long as you get him in small doses.
What does he, erm, what does he actually do for a living?
Oh, he's in the SAS.
Richard!
Coming.
It's a quarter to ten. When the hell's the food coming?
I saw that.
The greatest kick I get is looking for fresh talent.
We're desperate for good short story writers at the moment.
There's me bumbling on about stupid roundabouts! I never asked you what you did.
- Erm, I work for British Rail. - Yeah.
Horror is a totally underrated genre. It's an art form so few people have mastered.
I wish I could get over to him.
Yeah, well, I'm fascinated by British Rail. Which department?
- Passenger Relations. - Wow!
Central are pestering us for someone to write a series on the macabre.
- I bet you've got a lot of funny stories? - Erm, not really, no.
It's got to be someone new, someone with a new angle.
This is agony!
- Tell us one, then. - Shut up!
- What? - One of your stories.
For all we know, right here in this room, at this very moment,
there may be a new Roald Dahl or Edgar Allan Poe.
I bet the British public's a real bugger to deal with.
Well, sometimes, yeah...
It's me! I'm over here!
Yes, sure. I've got to go soon, anyway.
He's on his own. Oh, hell!
If you don't want to talk about it, I'll understand.
- I suppose you're up to here with it all day. - Ah, no, no, no, no, no...
Ted, you haven't spoken to me all evening? Have I got the plague or something?
Right, Watkins. Who dares wins.
- Hello there. - Oh, hello.
You a... You a friend of Sarah's?
- No. Richard. - Oh! Oh, Richard?
- Where do you know Richard from then? - At the Edinburgh Festival, years ago.
He was in some student production and I gave him the most awful review.
- We've been friends ever since. - Ah!
Look, I couldn't help overhearing what you were saying to that woman just now
- about horror writing and the macabre. - Yeah.
Well... Well, it just so happens...
- John! Your cab's here! - Good Lord, already?
I'm awfully sorry. Had no idea of the time. Sorry it's been so brief.
I didn't even catch his name.
It was John Langley. You know, of Langley & Edison.
Langley & Edison the publishers? Strewth!
Well, why don't you phone him, then? I mean, I could get his number off Richard tomorrow.
- What, phone him? Me? Out of the blue? - Yes.
Hm. Why don't I just phone up Rajiv Gandhi while I'm about it?
"Hello, Raj, me old mate. Having a bit of trouble with the Sikhs, are you?
Fancy popping down the Feathers for a swift half tonight? Oh!
You don't know me. My name's Colin Watkins by the way."
So what are you gonna do with your writing then?
I mean, you can't just spill coffee over it the rest of your life.
And if you've got it, you've got to damn well flaunt it.
Oi, more gherkins and stop pussyfooting with the mayonnaise!
Look, I know what I'll do, I'll write to him.
- I'll send him a copy of The Orchid's Revenge. - Well, it's the only one you've finished.
It'll just sit there for six months gathering dust along with all the other stuff they get.
Look, there's only one way, Colin.
Look, I can't. I don't know him.
I'll think about it, OK?
Mm!
There we are, Mr Travers. All done.
And, to be honest, it's the most tedious thing I've done in my entire life.
Yes!
Well done, Colin. This hasn't gone unnoticed.
Oh, good! I'm going to get a Blue Peter badge.
Ah, these are the originals here.
And these... these are the copies over... over here.
And, as you can see, they're all in alphabetical order.
Yes.
Oh!
"Oh?" What's "Oh?" supposed to mean?
What's he tutting for?
He did say photocopy them, didn't he?
Well, of course he did! I mean, what else could I do with them?
Take them on a trip round Windsor Safari Park?
There's a wee problem, Colin.
I want to die!
The whole point of getting you to make copies was I wanted a separate file for date order.
So we have one alphabetical and one date order,
starting from January 1961 up to the present day.
One lot's going to have to be completely refiled.
- What, all of them? - Yes!
By the way, what do you do, Colin?
For all we know, right here in this room at this very moment,
there might be another Roald Dahl or Edgar Allen Poe.
If you've got it, you've gotta damn well flaunt it!
Hello. Jen?
'Colin? '
Look, that guy John Langley. I've got to meet him.
Oh? Right, I'll get his number off Richard then.
'No, no, no, no, no! '
That's too out of the blue. Look, I was thinking,
you couldn't organise one of your little dinner parties, could you,
and sort of arrange for him to come?
'Yeah, but I hardly know him myself.'
Besides, I can't do any entertaining for the next few weeks. I've got the decorators in.
What, again? You've only just had it done.
Well, it looked OK on the colour chart. I've sort of gone off it since.
Thank God she wasn't in charge of the Sistine Chapel!
"Sorry, Michelangelo, not quite what we had in mind."
Look, I'll tell you what, Colin. Let's make a deal.
I fix it for John Langley to come to dinner and you have the dinner at your place.
'Oh, come on, Jen! Be serious.'
Well, I'm being perfectly serious.
- Yeah, but I mean, I've never... - 'Never what? '
- I mean, have a dinner party, me? - 'Yes.'
You mean... you mean actually have people over?
Well, you could try orang-outangs if you like.
- Yeah, but I mean... - 'But what? '
Er!
There. My tablecloth makes a hell of a difference.
A prostitute, that's what I am!
Nothing more, nothing less. It's contrived, it's cheap and I hate it.
Look, if anyone's doing the touting it's me. I mean, as far as John Langley's concerned,
this dinner party is mainly so his company and mine can renew links.
Renew links, my arse!
He'll see it for what it is - an artifice to set up some hack with delusions of grandeur.
Why don't I just sleep with him and get it over with?
Avocado salad, fish terrine.
Well, well! This really looks quite good. There's another side to you, Colin Watkins.
Yes, it's called Marks & Spencer's, Kilburn High Road.
- I still don't see why you had to invite Des. - Des is an old friend of mine.
I can't have a dinner party at my place for the first time and not invite Des.
He makes you feel cosier, that's what it is.
I feel easy in his presence, if that's what you mean. He's genuine. He doesn't have airs.
The moment you're nervous you have to cling on to something.
It's like Linus and his blanket. Out comes Des.
You're just anti-Des, aren't you?
No, I'm not. It's just that... Well, it's mixing the wrong people.
- I don't see where Des fits in, quite frankly. - Oh, God! I am dreading this, dreading it.
- I can't go through with it. - What are you doing?
- I'm ringing up to cancel. - You can't cancel!
That poor man has come 15 miles across London to have dinner with us.
Fine. We'll send it over to him in a minicab. I'm sorry, Jen, I can't go through with it.
Do you realise the lengths I've been to to get him over here? I did it for you.
Because I care. Thanks a lot!
Look, I'm... I'm... I'm sorry, Jen.
I didn't, erm... I...
I didn't mean to sound ungrateful.
I mean, it's my fault for suggesting the whole thing in the first place!
Look, it'll be fine.
Oh, God! It's going to be so stilted, so awkward.
Oh, well, all aboard the Titanic.
No, no, no. It was our fault entirely.
Your company's promotional work was exactly as we'd briefed you.
We just made the wrong decision from the start.
Well, as I said, if you feel the need for a commercial push any time in the future,
- do come to us first. - Of course. This is delicious, by the way.
Can't beat old M&S, can you?
I'm awfully sorry, Colin, we've been talking shop all evening, and in your flat as well.
So what about you, then?
Jenny tells me you've been doing some writing in your spare time.
Well, just a, er...
few doodles, you know, that sort of thing.
She said you've been having a go at horror stories.
Did she? Mm!
Well, some people would call my writing pretty horrific.
I'll get some more mayonnaise...
- I'll give you a hand. - I'm fine, thanks.
I said, I'll give you a hand!
- What are you playing at? - It's the...
- Why didn't you say anything about the writing? - It was the wrong moment!
The wrong moment? He asked you outright.
It took me by surprise. It came out of the blue. I wasn't geared up for it!
All you had to do was give a simple answer to a simple question.
It's tactless to do it so early in the evening.
Let the poor man have his starter before we hit him with the real reason he's been invited.
"Excuse me, Mr Langley, would you like some ulterior motive with your prawn cocktail?"
Look, Jen, we've got the whole evening ahead of us.
Please leave it to me. I do know what I'm doing.
- Mayonnaise? - Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah!
...Then the paperbacks and then the inevitable omnibus edition.
Once it starts, it's a real juggernaut. Anyway...
my problem right now is looking for new writers.
You want to see some of the stuff that ends up on my desk.
What I wouldn't give to sit there one morning and receive a manuscript
that's just that little bit different.
Aah!
Colin, you've got something to say, haven't you?
Ye... Ye...
There's some little fish bones in there. They're real little devils.
- Just leave them on the side of the plate. - No, about writing.
Oh!
I'm sorry, darling. I'll give you a wipe down.
I bought this sweater only last week. Look at it!
What the hell's the matter now? He handed it to you on a plate.
Exactly, the whole moment was totally contrived. It would have stunk.
Oh, you are the limit, you really are. Just a wipe-down, by the way, Colin.
- I don't need a bath! - Look, there is such a thing as subtlety.
Or perhaps I should have hired a rhinoceros to trample him to death for the evening!
You realise you're blowing it, don't you?
Look, it wasn't on, Jen, not then.
It's supposed to be a sociable evening, not the Grand National.
Colin, if you don't go out there right now and broach the subject, I'm going to do it for you.
- No, no! No, Jen, please. - Right then.
No! Jen! Jen! Jen!
- Is everything all right out there? - Ah, fine, thanks!
- If it hadn't been for us I don't know what... - That's better.
Thank God for the old vino. Works wonders.
I could ask him anything now.
Don't fancy casual sex, John, do you?
How are the old bowel movements, by the way?
Right, come on, Des, stop rabbiting.
...By the time the council had found a permanent site for them,
the Gypsies' problems had mostly been solved.
- Unbelievable. - Sorry to interrupt, John, just going back...
And just think what would have happened if they'd tried evicting them earlier.
Oh, I am sorry. Am I in the way here?
They would never have ended up on that estate.
- So you were assigned to them for six months? - Yeah.
I had to live in at one point. On one side you had a family who'd lived...
Des!
...all their life and right next door...
Des!
...had spent a lifetime of utter rootlessness. - Amazing isn't it, Colin?
There are pockets in our society we simply have no concept of.
Staggering!
Half an hour!
Thirty-one minutes!
I mean, what are they doing - chatting for charity?
There's been no hiatus whatsoever, no gap.
Their conversation has been completely seamless.
What am I supposed to say? "Excuse me, can I pop in after the next semi-colon?"
You're in charge!
Perhaps I should just mug him.
Look, go and take the coffee out. That should break things up.
Fascinating!
So you could compare both families side-by-side.
Coffee?
Do you think the actual condition of the houses on the estate has an effect?
Coffee?
Difficult to say. Given a whole year, we might have been able to tell...
Coffee, tea, anyone?
There were definite signs that both breadwinners were returning to the fold.
- Brandy? Tia Maria? After Eights? - What, after all that time?
And their wives had started becoming faithful again.
- Raw plug? Boeing 747? - In the end the council had no choice.
- Brazilian fruit bat? - They had to give in.
Astonishing!
You know, Des, I'm going to give you my... work number.
If you ever find time to get your experiences down on paper,
I'd be thrilled to have a look.
Well, that was a most enjoyable evening, Colin. Thanks again.
- Erm, John... - Yes?
You know the way to the Tube station, don't you?
Yes, I came that way.
Bye!
Great evening, Col. Nice bloke that John Langley.
Aaah!
- I'm going after him. - What?
- I'm gonna catch him at the Tube station. - You're joking?
I'm going up to pretend I'm going to Victoria for the Sunday papers.
- Want me to come, Col? - No!!!
I know exactly what he'll do.
He'll sidle up to him on the platform, get on the train with him,
chat all the way to Victoria about how bad the Jubilee Line is,
and then he'll come back here and tell me they've run out of Sunday Times.
Well?
No Observers.
Ripped By mstoll