oo vudge welcome (ii)

[Intro: footsack/infect/turnip/cessjophy]
When you footsack be bootsack, van kick sharp in gob, while you wish satsuma.
When oo hands be warm, but only due ouraging infect of the blood, the skin, the nail, the bone and the tissue, bacteri bacteri oh la la rouge...
Well so look at you, screaming and shouting like an angry turnip, ooh, fucked up ridiculant, most foolant to yourselfen, and I have no sympathy, oop turnip...
And when all oo remaining joy lies unnoticed in one shrivelled cell, in the bog-bottom of the very bum-tube of ee cessjophy...
Then welcome.
Oo vudge welcome, in Blue Jam (Blue Jam, Blue Jam, Blue Jam)

[Transplants III: Little Girl Balls]
GRAHAM: My name is Graham Shive. I'm a computer salesman
ALISON: I'm Alison Shive, and this is our daughter Judy.
JUDY: Hello.
GRAHAM: We've always had a strong feeling with Judy that she's really a 45-year-old man trapped in the body of a little girl.
ALISON: So she's had an operation to fit her with the penis and, er, testicle glands of a 45-year-old man.
JUDY: Mummy, can I..?
ALISON: Ssh.
GRAHAM: Look at that. See, it's perfect.
ALISON: We're particularly pleased with the balls.
GRAHAM: Yes. I think the balls are excellent. And you're a lot happier with those, aren't you, love?
JUDY: Yeah...

[Everything but the Girl - Missing]

[Doctor: You Don't Like Me]
[Massive Attack - Weather Storm]
DR BASINGSTOKE: Come in.
MAN: Hello.
DR BASINGSTOKE: Have a seat.
MAN: Thanks.
DR BASINGSTOKE: So, what seems to be the problem?
MAN: Flu.
DR BASINGSTOKE: Mm.
MAN: Um, quite a temperature, and...
DR BASINGSTOKE: Right...
MAN: ...a cough, and, er, just generally feeling pretty sick, and...
DR BASINGSTOKE: Mm...
MAN: I've been actually sick. I was sick last night.
DR BASINGSTOKE: Right. You don't like me, do you?
MAN: Um...
DR BASINGSTOKE: Why is that?
MAN: I don't like you?
DR BASINGSTOKE: Yes. Why is that? I'm perfectly decent. I've got quite a lot of friends. You only ever see me when I want something. Well, how do you think that makes me feel?
MAN: ...
DR BASINGSTOKE: You never just pop by, do you?
MAN: Yeah, but, I mean...
DR BASINGSTOKE: I've found you out, haven't I?
MAN: Er... I mean, I do...
DR BASINGSTOKE: You know you don't. I reckon you only come and see me to try and give me germs.
MAN: Oh, come on...
DR BASINGSTOKE: Hang on a second, would you? (dials) ...Hello, Sarah? ...Just a quick question. Why do you book these people to see me? ...People who don't like me. You don't do that for Doctor Harris, do you? ...Has he ever complained about this sort of thing? ... Right. Well, don't do it for me either, okay? Thank you. (hangs up) Right, I'll prescribe you something for the flu, and next time I think you'd better see Doctor Harris.
MAN: Okay.
DR BASINGSTOKE: Bye.
MAN: Bye. Look, I, I mean, I'm sorry...
DR BASINGSTOKE: It's too late now.
MAN: ... (leaves)
DR BASINGSTOKE: You don't like me, do you... you don't like me, do you? Well, I don't like you, so piss off!

[Baby Fox - Curlylocks]

[Doctor: Bribery I]
[Soul Coughing - Screenwriters Blues]
DR PERLIN: Come in. Ah, yes, come and sit down. What can I do for you?
WOMAN: I've got a sprained knee...
DR PERLIN: Ah, yes. Football?
WOMAN: Yeah, it's been pretty
DR PERLIN: Painful there?
WOMAN: Yeah, very.
DR PERLIN: Right. What I'm going to do is give you 200 quid. 200 pounds, and I don't want to see you again.
WOMAN: You...
DR PERLIN: Okay?
WOMAN: Right, thanks very much...
DR PERLIN: Not at all. Bye-bye.
WOMAN: Bye.

[Hobbs Sting: Wheeled on a Trolley]
Here she comes, being wheeled on a trolley
Mary Anne Hobbs being wheeled on a trolley
Every corner of her great big head
Supported by a wooden buttress
And when she smiles, it looks like an exploded pig
All the children run screaming from the park
The air is full of bawling
Please cover her up with a tarpaulin

[Monologue: Belt]
[Hoyt Curtin - The New Scooby-Doo Movies Theme]
HIM: When the winter comes, I spend a lot of time sitting in reception areas. It's a good way to keep warm. If you go into a large office building, and ask for Mr Harris in Accounts, you can often wait up to an hour before anyone realises there is no Mr Harris in Accounts. The seats are always soft, and sometimes leathery. There are papers and magazines to read. Some companies have coffee machines and fruit. I have a friend called Martin Chope who lets me sleep in the lobby of the World Service. He works all night, because people in the Pitcairn Islands have to hear the news. I haven't actually seen my friend since 1983, but we have an arrangement whereby he calls down to reception every hour or so, and asks them to tell me he's a bit busy, and he'll be down in a minute. I was drowsing at the World Service one evening when a taxi driver came in and shouted "13 Addison Gardens, West 12." He looked at me because I was the only one there. I didn't want to disappoint him, so I followed him into the taxi. I thought there might be something to eat there. There was a party going on at 13 Addison Gardens, West 12. I walked in to find a long hallway, which had been entirely decorated in AstroTurf. It was like walking through a tubular field. At the end there was a large room with lots of monitors, showing a porno version of the Teletubbies. A lot of media people were standing around rubbing their noses and talking very fast. And in the centre of this gaggle was a comedy actor I had read about in a waiting room magazine. His was called Tony. He was standing next to a huge ice sculpture of his head. I was still hungry, so I was stuffing my pockets with crab tartlets when Tony the star banged into me. His eyes were bulging with drugs and self-confidence. "You," he said, "weren't you in show six?" I couldn't answer because I didn't know what he was talking about, so I carried on filling my pockets. "Yeah," said Tony, "you were fantastic, and I want to celebrate your performance with a blow job. You," he shouted to another actress, "get over here and suck my cock." An actress approached him slowly, unsure whether this was a good career move. But Tony had produced a rubber vagina and was waving it about shouting "I don't need you anyway, you filthy whore." Tony looked at me, and asked why I wasn't laughing. I still didn't know what to say, so I put another crab tartlet into my mouth, and put it in another, just in case. He looked like he was going to kill me. Then suddenly he threw his arm around my shoulders, and whispered, "It's because you see, isn't it? You can see everything." I swallowed a pulpy mass of crab. "I love this guy," he shouted. Then he took me round the room, introducing me to television executives and producers. By the time I got back to the crab tartlets, I had an agent, a transmittable pilot, a five year development deal, and someone with a mobile phone said that Jarvis Cocker wanted to meet me. Then Tony asked me in a strangely confidential way for my belt. I gave it to him, and he disappeared. My pockets were full of crab, and my trousers started to slip and sag towards my knees. A man from Channel 4 came up to me and said "If you think you're really going to get a series out of this, you've got another think coming." "Thank you," I said, and went to look for my belt. The basement was full of people using the drug cocaine. One man seemed to be trying to introduce it to the end of his penis. Another was having his skull trepanned with a Black & Decker drill, in order to get the powder straight into his brain. I went up two flights. At the top of the house I heard muffled humming and running water. I carefully pushed open a door, and found Tony standing on tiptoe on the edge of the bath. The room was lit by candles, and The Prodigy was playing on a minidisc. Tony was naked except for to hairdryers taped to his thighs, blowing hot air towards his balls, and he was hanging from the shower rail with my belt round his neck. His left hand was holding onto the belt, to stop him choking completely, while the right was guiding the path of the rubber vagina. "Sorry," I said. Tony lost his balance and plunged into the water. The hairdryers sparked and fizzed, and the lights blew. Tony flapped and twitched on the end of the belt, and seemed to be trying to say something. I asked if I could have my belt back, but I couldn't tell if any of the sounds he made was yes or no. I closed the door, and left a note saying "Please can I have my belt back when you've finished with it? Care of Martin Chope, BBC World Service, Bush House" and groped my way downstairs in the dark. The party looked like it was over, because no-one could see what they were doing. So I left, and sat on a nearby bench, where I offered a tramp a crab tartlet. "I've got a transmittable pilot," I said. "Serves you right, you fucking poof," he replied.
I never got my belt back, but a week later I saw a picture of it on the cover of a magazine.

[Moloko - Party Weirdo]

[Hobbs Sting: Bag of Lymph]
Mary Anne Hobbs
Now little more than a bag of lymph
Is rolled from the studio
And drained into a sink

[Irate Robbery]
IRATE: So I've got this new gun, ain't I? And I've been watching him counting out the notes through the window, so in I go, straight up to the counter... and then I saw the till, right? On the side of this till, there was a plastic arsehole with a duck sticking out of it! I couldn't take my fucking eyes off it, could I!? So I goes to him, "Give me all the money or I'll shoot... the till." I said, shoot the fucking till. I mean, you see a till with a plastic arsehole with a duck sticking out of it, I mean, what the FUCK would you do, eh!? Right, and he's just standing there, staring at me, and I know what he's thinking, you know, but I had to look like I meant it, didn't I!? I'd committed! So I said, "Yeah, that's right, I said... I said I'll shoot the fucking till!" And he says, he goes, "Well, I'm not giving you the money." So... fucking hell, wh... I had to shoot the fucking till! I mean, what would you do!? And then I just had to walk out! What's this fucking geezer on, anyway!? ...Fucking livid, right, I kicked the shit out of some old cunt down the street. That wouldn't have happened if he'd had a PROPER till, would it!? I mean, what a totally PRICKED-UP LITTLE ARSE CUNTING PONCE, WITH A PLASTIC ARSEHOLE WITH A FUCKING DUCK STICKING OUT OF IT! Fucking... plastic fucking arsehole... Fucking with my head...
IRATE: So I've got this new gun, ain't I? ...
IRATE: Fucking with my head...
IRATE: Fucking with my head...
IRATE: PLASTIC ARSEHOLE WITH A FUCKING DUCK STICKING OUT OF IT!

[The Cardigans - Beautiful One]

[Lamacq Sting]
VOICE: Radio One.
SYNTHESISED: I can see Steve Lamacq
HIGH VOICE: Lamacq.
SYNTHESISED: As a frail old man in a wheelchair
VOICE: Huh!
SYNTHESISED: Trying to shake hands with an elephant.
(simian laughter)

[Unflustered Parents: Fire]
[Jim Reeves - He'll Have to Go]
HUSBAND: Darling, I don't think we'll be able to go to dinner with the Lartons on Friday.
SARAH: Oh. Why not?
HUSBAND: Well, I shot Bob this morning.
SARAH: Oh...
HUSBAND: Bloody duel in the office...
SARAH: Oh, I rather liked him.
HUSBAND: Yeah, well, that's the thing. So did I.
(phone rings)
HUSBAND: Could you get that, love? It'll probably be Louisa wanting to talk about it. Oh, or hang on - it could be Pat Turner.
SARAH: Why?
HUSBAND: Well, because I shot Miriam.
SARAH: You shot Miriam!?
HUSBAND: Well, I was still wired after shooting Bob, and she was walking past, and I just emptied the magazine into that ruddy great back of hers.
SARAH: Oh, bloody hell... Hello?
HUSBAND: Oh, what am I doing?
SARAH: Yes, he is. (It's the police, love.)
HUSBAND: Oh, that's a relief.
SARAH: ...Yeah, he has been on a bit of a spree. (They say you should really be in a cell for a bit.)
HUSBAND: Well, I know exactly what they mean...
SARAH: Um, it's a bit late tonight... Hang on, I'll ask him. (Do you think you're going to shoot anyone tomorrow?)
HUSBAND: Well, I don't know.
SARAH: Says he doesn't know.
HUSBAND: How the fuck do I know? Sarah...
SARAH: Yeah, it tends to be people we know...
HUSBAND: Sarah...
SARAH: ...I'll try, okay. Bye.
HUSBAND: Can you smell burning?
SARAH: Oh... Bloody pan! I left the bloody pan on. (exits)
HUSBAND: Oh...
SARAH: Whoa!
HUSBAND: What?
SARAH: Flames all over the place!
HUSBAND: Really?
SARAH: Everything's going up! I didn't know paint could burn!
HUSBAND: Yeah, the gloss stuff's made of oil.
SARAH: The whole room's going up!
HUSBAND: Well, you'd better come back here, love. The smoke's really acrid.
SARAH: (enters) The kitchen looks quite nice on fire.
HUSBAND: Mm... ...I wonder if it's gone up to the boys' room?
SARAH: Oh, yeah.
HUSBAND: I'll give Mike a call. (dials) Yeah, Mike? Sorry to call during the match. ...Yeah. ...Listen, you couldn't just crane your neck out of the window and see if we've got a fire upstairs? ...The boys' room. ...Yeah? Wow. ...I thought I heard banging. ...No, well, we've got locks on all the windows. ...Yeah. Okay. Hey, Mike, sorry about Lucy. ...I just saw her at the garage and smoked the bitch. ...Yeah, I know. I'll try. ...Cheers. (hangs up) Boys have had it, love.
SARAH: Oh, that's a shame. They were really looking forward to Christmas.
HUSBAND: Mm. We won't see them in the school play now.
SARAH: Do you think we should try and get them out?
HUSBAND: No, they'll be too far gone, by the sound of it.
SARAH: Yeah, and the kids at school would be pretty foul to them with those burns.
HUSBAND: Mm.
SARAH: ...
HUSBAND: We're just going to have to get used to it being just the two of us again.
SARAH: Mm...
HUSBAND: ...
SARAH: Unless we want some more...
HUSBAND: Mm... (laughs)

[Sneaker Pimps - 6 Underground]

[Unemployed Welshmen I: The Generator and the Monument]
TAFFY: Always lived here. Never moved, have we?
MIKE: No.
TAFFY: Not much to do is there?
MIKE: Ah...
TAFFY: Just hang around in the afternoon.
MIKE: Hanging about, mm...
TAFFY: Sometimes we go up to the generator.
LES: Yeah.
MIKE: Over there, see, up the street.
TAFFY: We go and... hang around the generator. One day he says "Where you going," I say, "I'm going up the generator..." so we all went up there, and... now we do it quite often.
MIKE: The generator...
TAFFY: See that doorway, over there? There's a lot of unemployment there, just to the left.
LES: Which one's the moon?
TAFFY: Shut up, Les.
MIKE: Sometimes we go up to the monument.
TAFFY: Yeah, the monument. Yeah, er, that's, er... good. Good for hanging around, that.
MIKE: Yes, er... Good, that.
TAFFY: One time we were really bored, so I started tugging on the monument, you know, for a laugh...
LES: Ha ha. Really funny, it was!
TAFFY: And suddenly it swung down, and all this beer came out of the house across the road.
MIKE: All the people were washed out in erm... in a big wave of beer.
TAFFY: Watching the telly once...
MIKE: And there was this baby's cot. No baby in it, but he came out afterwards with a hat on.
TAFFY: Got, erm... Washed down the hill.
MIKE: It was beer, but you couldn't drink it. We came back the next day with a tanker, but it didn't work again. Just this little old man came walking out from behind the monument and laughed.
TAFFY: Said he lived in a pram! See that, er... Road, down there? That's where they did all the black and white photos.
MIKE: All this Spanish stuff came out of the generator once.
TAFFY: There's the social club, there. One day, a big gang of blokes, about thirty of them, came out of the social club, innit? And Mike says, for a laugh, "Let's round them up with a torch."
MIKE: Ha ha ha! That was great, yeah...
LES: Which one's the moon?
MIKE: I'm going up the monument.
TAFFY: No, come on up to the generator, you little bollock.

[Ben Harper - Mama's Trippin']

[Whiley Sting]
And as Jo Whiley is slowly chopped to pieces, we glimpse Mark Goodier, rubbing his genitals in the warm, gloopy mess.

[Pub Millionaires]
DEREK (VO): Derek Hargreaves. I the landlord of the Fox and Feathers in Stevenshelpsleigh. I must admit, when I took it over fifteen years ago, I never expected to end up... doing this.
LINDA (VO): My name is Linda Matthews. I won two and a half million in the Lottery in March of this year. At first I was quite stuck about what to do with it.
DEREK (VO): And then one day she was in here having a beer, and she just asked me how much it would cost to open the bar just for her.
LINDA (VO): I pay five hundred thousand pounds a year, and the pub is open for me. I've paid the other regulars ten thousand pounds each to stay away. They seem quite happy with that.
DEREK (VO): And she comes in on her own, sometimes she has one or two beers... has a game of darts by herself.
LINDA (VO): I go through phases with, er, Derek. Just, you know, if I decide to be friendly on a particular day, I'll exchange a few niceties. Other times I ignore him; just order my drink and, er, turn my back on him.
SUE (VO): Sue Hargreaves. I do the cooking in the pub, and also, Linda likes us to make sure the men's lavatories smell of urine, so I have to splash some over the floor every couple of days. We use our own. We funnel it into a can.
LINDA (VO): Sometimes I like to complain about the food. And the young girl knows to say "Nobody else has complained," at which point I will say "Don't be ridiculous, there's nobody else here!" And usually then I will stand up, throw the food around, push her around a little bit, and then storm out swearing, and that is how I like to leave the pub every three weeks or so.
SUE (VO): Sometimes, on a Saturday, I have to make myself sick into the corner. That's not so bad, but one time she wanted me to do it seven times in one evening, and I actually pulled all the muscles in my throat.
DEREK (VO): The only thing I don't like... is when she's, um, feeling a bit cut up... you can tell when she's had a bad day. And she'll be giving out a bit of cash to the local youths...
LINDA (VO): I just like to watch a really destructive fight. I know some lads who'll do anything.
DEREK (VO): They wreck the place. They smash up the bar, they glass each other, one guy had his ear ripped off the other week...
SUE (VO): Mm...
DEREK (VO): There was a bloke that got knocked out by a flying telly... we're still finding teeth in the carpet.
SUE (VO): Teeth... huh.
DEREK (VO): I wouldn't be surprised if one of them gets killed one of these days.
SUE (VO): Yeah... killed... heh heh...
LINDA (VO): I think this is only the start. I've got some much bigger ideas for next year. I can't begin to tell you how much I despise people who do things for money... and how fascinated I am by what I can get them to do.

[Opus III - It's a Fine Day]

[Doctor: Bribery II]
[Steely Dan - Hey Nineteen]
DR PERLIN: Come in. Have a seat.
MAN: Thanks.
DR PERLIN: Right, what's the problem?
MAN: Well, I keep getting these nosebleeds.
DR PERLIN: Mm-hmm? Had this trouble before?
MAN: Well, I used to at school, but I haven't for ages, really.
DR PERLIN: Mm-hmm, I see. Well, here's a tenner. Pop back if it doesn't clear up.
MAN: Oh, right. Thanks.
DR PERLIN: If that doesn't work... just shove some soap up your arse.
MAN: ...Soap?
DR PERLIN: See if you can keep it there for a couple of days.
MAN: ...Right. Yeah, okay. Thanks...
DR PERLIN: Right-o, then. Bye-bye.
MAN: Um... Soap?
DR PERLIN: Mm. Biggest bar you can manage.
MAN: Oh... right. Thank you...

[Outro: footsack/infect/turnip/cessjophy]
CHRIS: When you footsack be bootsack, van kick sharp in gob, while you wish satsuma.
When oo hands be warm, but only due ouraging infect of the BLOOD, and the SKIN, and the NAIL, and the BONE, and the TISSUE, bacteri bacteri oh la la rouge...
Well so look at you, screaming and shouting like an angry turnip, ooh, fucked up ridiculant, most foolant to yourselfen, and I have no sympathy, oop turnip...
And when all oo remaining joy lies unnoticed in one shrivelled cell, in the bog-bottom of the very bum-tube of ee cessjophy...
Then welcome.
Oo vudge welcome, in Blue Jam (echoes)

[??? - If You's a Viper]