Garth Marenghi's Darkplace (2004) s01e05 Episode Script
Scotch Mist
Nina's eyes popped out of what was left of her back.
Why had she opened that tomb? The sand turned red.
This was because she was bleeding on it.
Blood.
Ruby-red blood.
Her blood.
Blood.
And piss and shit.
This was the worst day of her life.
Welcome, friend.
A lot of people say Garth Marenghi? Doesn't he write that horror crap? Well, you're an idiot, because my books always say something, even if it's simple, like Don't breed crabs to be as big as men.
There's always a message or a theme.
When I wrote, directed and starred in Garth Marenghi's Darkplace in the 1980s, I gave every episode a theme, even when we were late or I was tired.
One theme proved so controversial, so dangerous, so radical the theme's prejudice, by the way so outre, out there, that top brass finally pulled the axe on the entire project.
Tonight I entrust this episode to you, along with interviews from myself, my publisher Dean Learner and the actor Todd Rivers, who hasn't done a decent gig since Boon.
These mini-seminars will help elucidate and unravel the mysteries of Darkplace you have no excuse for not getting it.
So, here it be uncut, uncensored, unbelievable, unpalatable, and I sincerely hope you are disturbed.
By the show.
I'm Garth Marenghi author, dream weaver, visionary, plus actor.
You are about to enter the world of my imagination.
You are entering my Darkplace.
Darkplace, Darkplace Darkplace, Darkplace, Darkplace Darkplacel Mmm.
Yeah, that's real good.
Mmm.
Hey, I've got an idea let's continue this outside in the bushes.
Your operation's in five minutes.
Oh, come on! It'll be fun! Come on! Let's get down to it.
I'm horny.
Let's make love on the moor.
Hold on, what's that? Oh, that's just mist or fog.
You'll forget it once you're into it.
OK.
Jesus Christ! What the hell? No! Arggh! A lot of people write to move, or to protest.
I write to chill.
He had an ambitious script.
I said This is an ambitious script for the money we've got seeing as we've got no money.
It's ambitious.
We filmed it in my garage.
I had a big garage, but still, it was ambitious to film a TV show in a garage.
Darkplace was a turning point for me as a writer, because until then I'd been writing horror.
For this I wanted them to go Ooooh.
One strength of the programme is it bridged that gap between Aah! And Ooh! Quite well.
My name is Dr Rick Dagless MD.
It's 3am and it's misty.
Too misty.
And the weatherman had said, and I quote, More mist to come.
Once you added that to the mist already here, that's a mess of mist.
I'd been called out to Darkplace grounds.
It was taking ages because of the mist.
There was something about this mist.
What? I hadn't the foggiest.
What do you make of it, Dag? I've never seen anything like this.
In fact, I haven't got the foggiest idea! Great joke, Dag.
Cheers.
I thought of it in the car.
Look.
Their faces are patterned.
Good work, Liz.
What is it, Rick? Porridge.
I think I know what did this.
Scotch mist.
Scotch mist? But what's Scotch mist? I'll cross-fertilise the data.
It's an evil highland force the ghosts of Scottish warriors trapped in foggy mist.
Since Dag re-opened the Gates of Hell there's been a glut of terror.
Why would dead Scottish warriors come south? To kill the Queen and then destroy our way of life what every Scotchman wants.
You can't say that.
Liz, I've met a lot of Scotch people.
They want what we have order, sobriety, hope, everything Romford stands for.
They're jealous of our continental ways.
Well, you'd better do something, and fast.
I don't want to be here tomorrow with mist up my crack.
Now get! That's the phone.
Hello? Speaking.
I beg your pudding? And the same to you too! Of all the nerve! Problem, Thornton? Someone's given my number out as a massage parlour.
Who'd do that? I don't know.
Some people are animals.
If I catch them, I'll string them up by their Buster Browns.
Not if I catch the mongrel first.
I don't understand it! Why are you two still here? Scram! The mist rolled rellent-lessly round Darkplace, much like smoke or fog.
We stood for what seemed like forever but was probably nearer 20 minutes to half an hour.
What is that sound? That's a bagpipe.
It's Liz! She's having a vision! Argh! Go away.
I demand that you go.
Please be gone.
My God, you must go! Argh! Thanks, Rick.
I was hysterical.
What is it? It's Jim.
He's out there.
We found out the mist was poisonous when two techies died, yes.
Now, I don't like to see anyone die, but if someone has to die it might as well be a techie because another one comes along.
It's the same hammer in the tool belt you can barely tell the difference.
CROW CAWS Keep your headbands on so we don't get lost.
Use your fans sparingly.
They eat through batteries, and they can nick your fingers.
Stay local.
Dag, what batteries are you using? Powerzone Turbo Cells.
Got a bag of 'em down Herne Bay market.
ã1 for 30.
Hm.
Can I speak frankly? Of course.
If you act like an cheap arsehole, expect the shittiest portion.
Let me live my own life, Sanch.
They're fine.
Look Jim, struck by the mist, though he's still alive, unbelievable as that seems.
Let's run into that outhouse.
Just over there.
Move your arse, Liz! You goddamned evil misty Jocks.
Listen I am not prejudiced, all right? But Joe Public is.
You probably are.
You look like a dropout.
Point being I wrote this to heal Britain.
Erm Scotch Mist some thought was fairly racist.
I didn't, to be honest.
Erm Thing is, I'd play anything er, a Nazi, anything at all.
I never I don't think I'd ever kiss another man not even for the big boys.
Have you ever been to Scotland, Dag? Once.
What was it like? I remember it much as one recalls a dream, or a nightmare.
I was on a budget flight to Norway when a storm forced us to ditch in Prestwick.
It's so hilly up there, you can't get any signal on your carphone.
It looked bad.
It looked like I'd have to spend the night in Glasgow.
Jesus Christ! The cabin crew suggested we all go out and club it.
I had no option.
I figured it'd be safer on the streets.
I saw the Scotch in their natural habitat and it weren't pretty.
I'd seen them in stations before, being loud, but now I was surrounded.
It felt like they were watching me.
Fish-white flesh puckered by the highland breeze.
Tight eyes peering out.
Screechy booze-soaked voices hollering for a taxi to take 'em to the next pub.
A shatter of glass.
A round of applause.
A 16-year-old mother of three vomiting in a sewer, bairns looking on, chewing on potato cakes.
I ain't never goin' back.
Not never.
My aunt lives in Scotland.
She says it's quite nice.
Well, she's wrong.
GHOSTLY SCOTTISH MUTTERING Bloody things.
Look, the mist is retreating.
She's right, the mist is retreating.
You're both right, it is retreating.
You get Jim back to the hospital.
I'll cover you.
Heroically I let Sanch, Jim and Liz run back without me.
In my private bones I knew they'd be safe this mist was out for one person only, and that person, methought, was moi.
I ran like my life depended on it, which it did.
As a writer, I make my own rules up.
If I want to start a sentence with a full stop, I will.
If I want to highlight social prejudice, I will, but my way.
Sometimes you have to be a bigot to bring down bigger bigots.
This is not just a horror show this is a show about great original writing.
Dagless should be back by now.
We have to help him.
We'd never make it.
The batteries in these fans are spent.
If he will buy cheap batteries It's better to buy from a reputable high-street retailer.
Not from some bloke with a suitcase.
Exactly.
They may even be stolen.
But the initial price of a name battery is so much higher.
You're paying for reliability.
I use rechargables.
Couldn't charge them last night because I was playing the keyboard.
Maybe Reed has name batteries, like Duracell or Ever Ready.
Well, you'd hope so.
I told you before, I don't do that! Urgh! Another one.
As if I didn't have enough to do, with this mist.
And just listen to the answerphone.
Hello, I'm calling about arranging a massage.
I ask you! Take that last bit back.
Rick! Rick! What happened? Shit happened, sweetheart.
Time's running out.
What are you up to? I don't know yet.
Slow it down 26%.
Shhh.
Listen.
What does it mean? Mon means man, but I don't think och means anything.
It's me they want.
That's what they're gonna get.
But why you, Dag? In Glasgow, in a chip shop I ordered a cheeseburger.
That could have happened to anyone.
Don't beat yourself up about it.
Wait, Thornton, that's not all.
Instead they put a frozen slab of meat in a deep-fat fryer and served it to me in a tissue.
I refused to pay.
An argument ensued, and I said some very racist things about how fat a lot of Scotch were.
That's why this mist is here.
Revenge.
I have to face them.
I'm coming with you.
No, you're not.
Fair enough.
I'm going solo on this man to Scotchman.
Then take this.
It's my flick knife.
Thanks.
And you might need this.
Careful with it it's my mother's.
And take this.
What is it? Something that might come in handy.
And, Dag? Yeah? Put your trousers on.
I've got to do it like this.
Please accept this shortbread.
I'm afraid I can't offer you any salt to go with that.
I know it's me you want.
I just want to apologise for what I did to your countrymen.
Didnae get me wrong.
I love Scotch people I love Lulu and if Taggart's on I'll tape it.
That night I was pissed off I was in Glasgow.
Colleagues have since visited during the day and have had a cracking time.
I'm sorry.
I was wrong.
I see that now.
My life is yours.
What about the hair? Och, it'll grow out.
It was very, very cheap.
You like Scotch food, Liz? I know a little place we can go.
I know a little place you can go.
It's called To Blazes.
Hey! Well done, fellas and Liz.
This'll be Won Ton congratulating us.
Hello? Beg your pudding? That's not my bag! What's wrong with you people? I'm just trying to run a decent hospital and you people keep bothering me very rudely.
Get out of the office! Thank you.
You guys are so cruel.
I'm gonna get out of here for a bit, grab some air.
Hang loose.
I wonder what brought them here.
Was it Rick? This hospital? Or was it both? Or all three? One mist had gone, but another mist remained.
A worst mist.
A mist that fogged men's minds.
The mist of mist-understanding.
Luckily, this mist was a metaphor and wouldn't affect things much.
On a nearby roof, a bird took flight but not even that could spoil this beautiful moment as rosy-fingered dawn cupped Romford in its hands and thumbed open the new day's crack.
I love Scotland.
I'll take the high road or the low road.
Both are valid.
I once tried to open a gentleman's club near Fife.
North of the border.
But they're just not ready.
Glasgow's industrial, but it's still a third-world country.
They'd be the first to accept that.
Things are improving by degrees.
If an Englishman meets a Scotchman, or vice versa, 50-50 they'll get along.
That's encouraging.
Garth Marenghi's Darkplace is a Garth Marenghi production in association with Dean Learner.
Why had she opened that tomb? The sand turned red.
This was because she was bleeding on it.
Blood.
Ruby-red blood.
Her blood.
Blood.
And piss and shit.
This was the worst day of her life.
Welcome, friend.
A lot of people say Garth Marenghi? Doesn't he write that horror crap? Well, you're an idiot, because my books always say something, even if it's simple, like Don't breed crabs to be as big as men.
There's always a message or a theme.
When I wrote, directed and starred in Garth Marenghi's Darkplace in the 1980s, I gave every episode a theme, even when we were late or I was tired.
One theme proved so controversial, so dangerous, so radical the theme's prejudice, by the way so outre, out there, that top brass finally pulled the axe on the entire project.
Tonight I entrust this episode to you, along with interviews from myself, my publisher Dean Learner and the actor Todd Rivers, who hasn't done a decent gig since Boon.
These mini-seminars will help elucidate and unravel the mysteries of Darkplace you have no excuse for not getting it.
So, here it be uncut, uncensored, unbelievable, unpalatable, and I sincerely hope you are disturbed.
By the show.
I'm Garth Marenghi author, dream weaver, visionary, plus actor.
You are about to enter the world of my imagination.
You are entering my Darkplace.
Darkplace, Darkplace Darkplace, Darkplace, Darkplace Darkplacel Mmm.
Yeah, that's real good.
Mmm.
Hey, I've got an idea let's continue this outside in the bushes.
Your operation's in five minutes.
Oh, come on! It'll be fun! Come on! Let's get down to it.
I'm horny.
Let's make love on the moor.
Hold on, what's that? Oh, that's just mist or fog.
You'll forget it once you're into it.
OK.
Jesus Christ! What the hell? No! Arggh! A lot of people write to move, or to protest.
I write to chill.
He had an ambitious script.
I said This is an ambitious script for the money we've got seeing as we've got no money.
It's ambitious.
We filmed it in my garage.
I had a big garage, but still, it was ambitious to film a TV show in a garage.
Darkplace was a turning point for me as a writer, because until then I'd been writing horror.
For this I wanted them to go Ooooh.
One strength of the programme is it bridged that gap between Aah! And Ooh! Quite well.
My name is Dr Rick Dagless MD.
It's 3am and it's misty.
Too misty.
And the weatherman had said, and I quote, More mist to come.
Once you added that to the mist already here, that's a mess of mist.
I'd been called out to Darkplace grounds.
It was taking ages because of the mist.
There was something about this mist.
What? I hadn't the foggiest.
What do you make of it, Dag? I've never seen anything like this.
In fact, I haven't got the foggiest idea! Great joke, Dag.
Cheers.
I thought of it in the car.
Look.
Their faces are patterned.
Good work, Liz.
What is it, Rick? Porridge.
I think I know what did this.
Scotch mist.
Scotch mist? But what's Scotch mist? I'll cross-fertilise the data.
It's an evil highland force the ghosts of Scottish warriors trapped in foggy mist.
Since Dag re-opened the Gates of Hell there's been a glut of terror.
Why would dead Scottish warriors come south? To kill the Queen and then destroy our way of life what every Scotchman wants.
You can't say that.
Liz, I've met a lot of Scotch people.
They want what we have order, sobriety, hope, everything Romford stands for.
They're jealous of our continental ways.
Well, you'd better do something, and fast.
I don't want to be here tomorrow with mist up my crack.
Now get! That's the phone.
Hello? Speaking.
I beg your pudding? And the same to you too! Of all the nerve! Problem, Thornton? Someone's given my number out as a massage parlour.
Who'd do that? I don't know.
Some people are animals.
If I catch them, I'll string them up by their Buster Browns.
Not if I catch the mongrel first.
I don't understand it! Why are you two still here? Scram! The mist rolled rellent-lessly round Darkplace, much like smoke or fog.
We stood for what seemed like forever but was probably nearer 20 minutes to half an hour.
What is that sound? That's a bagpipe.
It's Liz! She's having a vision! Argh! Go away.
I demand that you go.
Please be gone.
My God, you must go! Argh! Thanks, Rick.
I was hysterical.
What is it? It's Jim.
He's out there.
We found out the mist was poisonous when two techies died, yes.
Now, I don't like to see anyone die, but if someone has to die it might as well be a techie because another one comes along.
It's the same hammer in the tool belt you can barely tell the difference.
CROW CAWS Keep your headbands on so we don't get lost.
Use your fans sparingly.
They eat through batteries, and they can nick your fingers.
Stay local.
Dag, what batteries are you using? Powerzone Turbo Cells.
Got a bag of 'em down Herne Bay market.
ã1 for 30.
Hm.
Can I speak frankly? Of course.
If you act like an cheap arsehole, expect the shittiest portion.
Let me live my own life, Sanch.
They're fine.
Look Jim, struck by the mist, though he's still alive, unbelievable as that seems.
Let's run into that outhouse.
Just over there.
Move your arse, Liz! You goddamned evil misty Jocks.
Listen I am not prejudiced, all right? But Joe Public is.
You probably are.
You look like a dropout.
Point being I wrote this to heal Britain.
Erm Scotch Mist some thought was fairly racist.
I didn't, to be honest.
Erm Thing is, I'd play anything er, a Nazi, anything at all.
I never I don't think I'd ever kiss another man not even for the big boys.
Have you ever been to Scotland, Dag? Once.
What was it like? I remember it much as one recalls a dream, or a nightmare.
I was on a budget flight to Norway when a storm forced us to ditch in Prestwick.
It's so hilly up there, you can't get any signal on your carphone.
It looked bad.
It looked like I'd have to spend the night in Glasgow.
Jesus Christ! The cabin crew suggested we all go out and club it.
I had no option.
I figured it'd be safer on the streets.
I saw the Scotch in their natural habitat and it weren't pretty.
I'd seen them in stations before, being loud, but now I was surrounded.
It felt like they were watching me.
Fish-white flesh puckered by the highland breeze.
Tight eyes peering out.
Screechy booze-soaked voices hollering for a taxi to take 'em to the next pub.
A shatter of glass.
A round of applause.
A 16-year-old mother of three vomiting in a sewer, bairns looking on, chewing on potato cakes.
I ain't never goin' back.
Not never.
My aunt lives in Scotland.
She says it's quite nice.
Well, she's wrong.
GHOSTLY SCOTTISH MUTTERING Bloody things.
Look, the mist is retreating.
She's right, the mist is retreating.
You're both right, it is retreating.
You get Jim back to the hospital.
I'll cover you.
Heroically I let Sanch, Jim and Liz run back without me.
In my private bones I knew they'd be safe this mist was out for one person only, and that person, methought, was moi.
I ran like my life depended on it, which it did.
As a writer, I make my own rules up.
If I want to start a sentence with a full stop, I will.
If I want to highlight social prejudice, I will, but my way.
Sometimes you have to be a bigot to bring down bigger bigots.
This is not just a horror show this is a show about great original writing.
Dagless should be back by now.
We have to help him.
We'd never make it.
The batteries in these fans are spent.
If he will buy cheap batteries It's better to buy from a reputable high-street retailer.
Not from some bloke with a suitcase.
Exactly.
They may even be stolen.
But the initial price of a name battery is so much higher.
You're paying for reliability.
I use rechargables.
Couldn't charge them last night because I was playing the keyboard.
Maybe Reed has name batteries, like Duracell or Ever Ready.
Well, you'd hope so.
I told you before, I don't do that! Urgh! Another one.
As if I didn't have enough to do, with this mist.
And just listen to the answerphone.
Hello, I'm calling about arranging a massage.
I ask you! Take that last bit back.
Rick! Rick! What happened? Shit happened, sweetheart.
Time's running out.
What are you up to? I don't know yet.
Slow it down 26%.
Shhh.
Listen.
What does it mean? Mon means man, but I don't think och means anything.
It's me they want.
That's what they're gonna get.
But why you, Dag? In Glasgow, in a chip shop I ordered a cheeseburger.
That could have happened to anyone.
Don't beat yourself up about it.
Wait, Thornton, that's not all.
Instead they put a frozen slab of meat in a deep-fat fryer and served it to me in a tissue.
I refused to pay.
An argument ensued, and I said some very racist things about how fat a lot of Scotch were.
That's why this mist is here.
Revenge.
I have to face them.
I'm coming with you.
No, you're not.
Fair enough.
I'm going solo on this man to Scotchman.
Then take this.
It's my flick knife.
Thanks.
And you might need this.
Careful with it it's my mother's.
And take this.
What is it? Something that might come in handy.
And, Dag? Yeah? Put your trousers on.
I've got to do it like this.
Please accept this shortbread.
I'm afraid I can't offer you any salt to go with that.
I know it's me you want.
I just want to apologise for what I did to your countrymen.
Didnae get me wrong.
I love Scotch people I love Lulu and if Taggart's on I'll tape it.
That night I was pissed off I was in Glasgow.
Colleagues have since visited during the day and have had a cracking time.
I'm sorry.
I was wrong.
I see that now.
My life is yours.
What about the hair? Och, it'll grow out.
It was very, very cheap.
You like Scotch food, Liz? I know a little place we can go.
I know a little place you can go.
It's called To Blazes.
Hey! Well done, fellas and Liz.
This'll be Won Ton congratulating us.
Hello? Beg your pudding? That's not my bag! What's wrong with you people? I'm just trying to run a decent hospital and you people keep bothering me very rudely.
Get out of the office! Thank you.
You guys are so cruel.
I'm gonna get out of here for a bit, grab some air.
Hang loose.
I wonder what brought them here.
Was it Rick? This hospital? Or was it both? Or all three? One mist had gone, but another mist remained.
A worst mist.
A mist that fogged men's minds.
The mist of mist-understanding.
Luckily, this mist was a metaphor and wouldn't affect things much.
On a nearby roof, a bird took flight but not even that could spoil this beautiful moment as rosy-fingered dawn cupped Romford in its hands and thumbed open the new day's crack.
I love Scotland.
I'll take the high road or the low road.
Both are valid.
I once tried to open a gentleman's club near Fife.
North of the border.
But they're just not ready.
Glasgow's industrial, but it's still a third-world country.
They'd be the first to accept that.
Things are improving by degrees.
If an Englishman meets a Scotchman, or vice versa, 50-50 they'll get along.
That's encouraging.
Garth Marenghi's Darkplace is a Garth Marenghi production in association with Dean Learner.