Inside No. 9 (2014) s03e06 Episode Script

Private View

1 Well, well "Make yourself comfortable"? Is that supposed to be funny? Oh Hello.
Are you all right? Don't mind me, I'm just being nosy.
What do you reckon, eh? I'm, erm I'm working tonight.
I'm a I'm a chaperone.
I don't know good art from a good fart, me! Ha-ha! Yeah, in't it? I'm Neil.
I'm assisting one of the guests when they arrive.
It's not you, is it? Visually impaired, yeah, and that's a good thing in here, what do you reckon? Have you seen the state of this thing? What's all that about, eh? Argh! I've spilt me Ritz Excuse me, is this the private view for Fragments by Elliot Quinn? I don't know.
If only there was a way of finding out.
Oh, my God! It says it right there, doesn't it? What am I like? Would you like a glass of champagne, madam? I'll just have the one, cos I've got another opening to go to after this.
I'm never usually the first to arrive.
You're not.
Someone else already went through.
Oh, is it another celeb? Cos I might know them.
Another celeb? The implication being Yes, it is me.
Carrie from BB8.
Will there be any photographers coming, do you know? I don't mind.
Although, I once got papped at a Narnia premiere with a massive sweat patch under my arm.
I thought, "OMG, that's going straight into Heat magazine -".
"Circle Of Shame.
" They never used it, though.
That is a shame.
Ooh Good evening.
Maurice Wickham.
You don't need to see my stiffie? I certainly don't.
Well, I'll help myself to one of these, then, shall I? I've only got two hands.
Two of everything, by the look of it.
Don't bother, Grandad.
I'm out of here in three hours.
Well, at least you're keen.
Are you an art lover? Nope.
And yet you have Tits? Tattoos.
Body art is still art, after all.
Yeah, and it's not for sale, so you can keep your little red dot away from me.
Thanks for the drink.
You're not I am, yeah.
You're not Oh, that is classic.
Oh, good God, that is classic.
You'll never guess what his name is.
Rumpelstiltskin? No.
No, no.
Go on, go on, go on, tell her.
Kenneth Williams.
Do you know, he has never seen any of the Carry On films? Really? Yeah, I don't watch comedy - got no interest in it - and, from a health and safety perspective, most of it's a joke.
We We're not together, you know, by the way.
We just We just met in the lift on the way down, didn't we? Mm, yeah, erm, there's no signal down here, is there? No, because we're in a basement.
No, it's because the arsehole contractors can't be bothered putting a signal booster in the Cat-5 webbing.
Pisses me off! Well, he's a laugh a minute.
Oh, right, thanks.
Is there, like, a set amount of time you're meant to look at each thing before you move on? Not necessarily.
It depends on the piece and what it says to you.
For example, what this piece is saying to me is gas explosion at Debenhams.
And do you know all this cos you teach art in a collage? No.
No, no.
I teach art in a college, but one of the disciplines in art is collage - the assemblage of disparate elements which together create a new whole.
Oh, that is like me with my chillies.
I chuck everything in.
I'm known for it.
On BB8 I put bananas in, and on BB-BOTS they were all like, "What is she like?!" I'm sorry, you've lost me.
What's BB8? Big Brother 8 - I was one of the contestants.
It was the year when Trevor and Viveca had the row about the rice cakes and had sex in the secret bunker.
Oh, well, I didn't see it, I'm afraid.
Oh, you should.
It's a classic year.
I got down to the last six.
Hello! Is someone there? Can I have some assistance, please? I'm visually impaired.
Yes? Are you all right? Do you need a hand? They said someone would be here to meet me, is that you? No, there's a man here - I'll take you to him.
Oh, are you blind? What? I take your arm - you do not take mine.
At £8 an hour, is it worth it? I'd like a drink first, if that's not too much trouble.
Hey, Kenneth.
I think I've seen it all now.
Look over there.
I don't want to be funny, but what is she going to get out of it? Perhaps she's going to feel her way round.
No, galleries do that now, you know - touch tours.
And don't get me started on ramps.
Well, she'll have no trouble smelling them - they are crap.
Welcome, everybody.
Welcome to my exhibition.
I'm Elliot Quinn, and three years ago, I died.
Don't be alarmed.
I knew it was going to happen, and it made me think about my life and my work and how I wanted to be remembered, so I set about creating this installation.
"Fragments" is an immersive work that seeks to answer those big important questions - "Who are we?", "How did we come to be here?", and, "If all the world's a stage", then where does the audience sit?" All of you have been hand-picked to attend this evening.
It's a very exclusive private view.
I hope, by the end, you know why.
Hang on a minute.
So, Elliot Quim is dead? Quinn.
That's what he said.
I wanted to meet him.
We've got space for a mural at that pocket park in Goole Street, and I wanted to get a freebie.
Sorry, I work for the council - Kenneth Williams.
Oh, my God! I've heard of you.
Are you famous? Ooh, Matron! Yeah, yeah.
I've heard it all before.
"Frying tonight.
" "Stop messing about.
" No, I'm not that Kenneth Williams.
I'm not famous.
I'm Mr Dull Boring Ordinary Health-and-Safety Nobody.
Oh, but, I bet, underneath it all, when people get to know you, you're a really interesting character.
No, I'm not.
I'll just go and get a top-up.
Sorry, sir, you're not allowed to smoke down here.
It's battery.
Under UK law, I'm permitted to use it in any public space that has not been fitted with a vape alarm.
Oh, I had one of them, but it kept on going off in Argos.
Excuse me, I seem to have been parked here.
I was promised a drink at some point - I presumed they meant the same evening.
Yeah, won't be a sec.
Here, you can have mine.
I'm not really enjoying it.
It just creases me up, champagne.
It really burns.
Thank you.
Why have we all been "hand-picked", do you think? We none of us know each other.
It appears we have very little in common Well, I'd never heard of this Elliot Quinn till I got the invite.
I don't know anything about art.
Well, my neighbour does have a Citroen Picasso.
The name rings a bell.
Has he ever brought out a book? My neighbour? Elliot Quinn.
I'm in publishing, perhaps that's the connection.
Judging by the first few pieces, perhaps it's some form of endurance test.
See you at the other end.
Why don't you and I chum up? You see, I had a great aunt, and she was blind, so I know what I'm doing.
I'm not blind - I'm visually impaired.
Oh, she's gone.
Right, well, I'm just going to have a look round - see if I can spot any fire hazards.
Sounds like fun.
There's nothing funny about being trapped in a fire, Miss.
I know there isn't.
Right, well, I'm just going to and, erm Carry on? Yeah.
Creepy! Oh, my God! You made me jump.
A bit derivative of Ron Mueck, but I like the idea of a blood mirror.
A little like Wilson's oil at the Saatchi.
It's horrible.
What's it called? He's got a thing round his neck No, I wouldn't touch the exhibit if I were you.
Good God! He's been stabbed! All right This could be part of the installation.
Come on, old chap! Get up! You've got to reset for the next lot coming in.
Stop kicking him, he's dead! He's a big, fat, dead man! Jesus Christ! What's going on here? Oh, he was just sitting there.
I thought he was a dummy.
I can't be here.
I cannot be here! I'm meant to be at Edwina Currie's perfume launch at 9 o'clock.
I think they'll want to interview you.
I know, for Grazia.
I meant the police.
I haven't done anything! Here's a good one, now, Pat.
Look there, because they're all gathered round.
It's Patricia! Right.
And why do I smell blood? There's been an incident, Miss.
Does anyone know where I can find some cones? I need to ring-fence off this entire area.
Why? What's happened? Oh, well, we're not sure, but it does look like foul play.
Someone's been stabbed in the back - nothing new in the art world, of course.
Who's been stabbed? Neil Francis.
He's a male nurse.
Oh, we have a dinner lady at school who's a man.
Right, well, there's no signal down here, not even for a triple-nine.
I'm going to have to go upstairs.
Miss, do you want to come with me? No, I'll wait here, and see no-one touches anything.
Good call.
You see, that's the trouble with these Andersons - if they get called by multiple users, the pull system freezes.
Oh, right.
Could someone come and give me a hand, please?! I'm going to have to force this door! Yeah, I'm coming.
I'm going to let go of your arm now, Patricia, but you'll be all right, because you'll be with, erm What's your name again, love? Carrie.
Carrie, like in the film.
Yes, I'm not deaf! She is impartially sighted, but she doesn't have a blue badge.
I won't be a sec.
Carrie Didn't your boob pop out in the Jacuzzi? Sorry? Big Brother 8.
Yes That's it, now.
That's it! It was just after my op.
I had 20-20 vision for a year before it failed again.
Well, it's just so lucky that my boob managed to fall into that little chink.
See if you can get your fingers in the crack.
Oh, Kenneth! That's a proper Carry On line! This is serious! I'm trying to get us out of here, OK? I'm sorry.
You know, I I think I must be in shock.
It makes me go a bit daft.
Here, use my phone - see if you can get it in for me.
"Infamy! Infamy! They've all got it in" I'm sorry! So, how many books have you actually written? I've done one a year for the past 15 years.
God, so that's, like, 12 books.
Hmm Something like that, yes.
The first few were pretty soft-core - swooning nurses, "the hardness in his breeches", that sort of thing - but, after that 50 Shades nonsense, I had to up my game.
The scenarios became more and more outrageous - people having sex in the most extraordinary places.
Like up the bum? I was thinking more of locations, but, yes, I have lowered myself once or twice.
Yeah, that is the best way to do it - it doesn't hurt as much.
That's it! Yeah, I can feel it coming And pull! Jesus.
What's happening? Oh, my God.
Not another one What is it? What's happening? Well, it's just this lovely young waitress - she's just dead in the lift.
This is too much of a coincidence.
Who was the last person to see her? I was but I left her tidying up.
Oh, come on, come on, come on.
Why isn't it working?! I'm a celebrity, get me out of here! There's got to be a a fire escape somewhere.
Let me think.
How did she die? Well, I'm not Murder She Wrote, but I would say she's been strangulated, wouldn't you? Right, I've got it.
Erm, there should be a fire door that leads out onto Duke Street.
I'll come with you, love, because I want to see the other rooms anyway.
You know, I haven't been around it all yet.
Keep an eye on her.
I will.
It's handy, you knowing your way around these buildings, isn't it? I can barely find my way around Asda.
Yeah, well, it's my job.
I am a dinner lady at St Michael's.
"Chips or mash?" That's me.
I love the kids, though.
I don't want kids - too many hazards.
I know, that is the worry.
I could barely keep mine in one piece.
No, I meant the kids are the hazards - look at Charlie And The Chocolate Factory.
There you are.
Police on their way? No, we couldn't get out.
The lift was blocked.
Oh, for goodness' sake! Well, couldn't that waitress girl call the manager or something? She's dead.
This is all a bit Agatha Christie, isn't it? None of us know each other, we've all been invited by somebody we've never met, and now it seems we're being picked off one by one.
Oh, don't It's just like Big Brother all over again.
I hope I don't get booed when I leave.
If you leave.
At least this time I've made it to the final five.
I once tried to write a murder mystery, but it's much harder than it seems.
It's so easy to get oneself knee-deep in cliches.
The trouble with the genre nowadays - too much murder, not enough mystery.
Chained from the outside.
I shall be reporting this! But how are we going to get out now? Surely we're like fish in a basket.
I I was thinking of scampi.
Is anyone else hungry? We've got other things on our plate at the moment.
Well, I don't have a plate, and that's what I'm saying - I thought there'd be nibbles.
But, look, we are in an art installation surrounded by wire and metal - there has to be a pair of pliers or bolt-cutters around here somewhere! You know, I was in Homebase only this morning.
Yes? No.
I I was in for a paint match.
I just can't make up my mind between Elephant's Breath and Clown's Pocket.
Clown's Pocket?! Right, can I just suggest we split up? It'll be quicker that way.
Fine, well, let's meet back here in 15 minutes.
No, no, no It was Deep Cavern.
And then, of course, they all split up, which is something you would never do in that situation, and, before you know it, there's another one gone.
Are you still there, darling? I've not bored you to death, have I? Carrie? Hello? Carrie? Carrie Oh! Oh Oh, dear God! Help! Someone, please! We need help! Is someone there? Oh Oh, oh Oh I'm sorry, that stinks.
Let me check that.
Here's what I found on the web for "how to use a stiletto as a weapon".
Is that you, Pat? Jesus Christ, not another one.
It's worse than a public information film.
What is it? What's happened? It's in there.
It's horrible.
Well, flush it away! It's Pat.
She's dead.
Good God What's happened to her eyes? What's going on? You don't want to know.
It's Pat.
Let's get out of here.
I found these, look! Whatever happens, stay close to me.
Right, this should do it.
I found these, by the way.
They've got your name on.
Oh, thank you.
It's my my heart medication.
Heart medication? Tacrolimus, yes, it's an anti-rejection drug - I've had a heart transplant.
When was this? Ah, three years ago now.
I'm doing fine, touch wood.
I had a lung transplant three years ago - it saved my life.
And Patricia had her eyes done - two new Cornettos.
That waitress, she had some kind of skin graft Yes, well, let's get out of here first, and we can ponder that later.
I've nearly got it! Oh, my God! He's got a heart condition! Those pills - I found them in Carrie's hand.
She's dead as well.
Oh, my goodness.
We're all dropping like flies.
That must be the link - we've all had some kind of transplant - but why would he want to kill us? What have we done wrong? Well, you shouldn't be smoking, Kenneth, for a start And it made me think about my life and my work, and how I wanted to be remembered, so I set about creating this installation.
"Fragments" is an immersive work that seeks to answer those big important questions - "Who are we?", "How did we come to be here?", and, "If all the world's a stage", then where does the audience sit?" All of you have been hand-picked to attend this evening.
It's a very exclusive private view.
I hope, by the end, you know why.
That was my son.
He died three years ago of a brain tumour.
Nothing else wrong with him apart from that, so he decided to donate himself - every organ - and he told me to keep tabs on all the people he helped, and to, erm, gather them together.
You were to be the art - a living exhibition - a celebration of him, and how his life gave others a wonderful opportunity.
But it didn't work out like that, did it? I don't know what you mean.
You squandered him! He was wasted on all of you! Like this fat pig, Neil Francis - a new kidney, and still he gave himself diabetes by eating too much.
And that waitress, she burnt her skin off in a fire she started herself in some pathetic attempt at attention-seeking.
She had a piece of my son, and still she sullied his flesh with self-pitying tattoos.
I don't understand And then there's that talentless nonentity, just drinking like a fish in some television reality show, despite having my son's liver.
And then there's Patricia, spending her days squinting at her pornographic writings through the corneas of my son's eyes.
And there's Kenneth Williams - still smoking, despite having the gift of Elliot's right lung inside him.
It was an e-cigarette.
Still And then there's you, Maurice.
You were lucky enough to get my son's heart.
Yes, and I've looked after it.
I exercise, I watch what I eat It still hasn't stopped you becoming a heartless critic, though, has it? Oh, that's a bit of a stretch.
I'm a lecturer, not a critic! Doesn't matter.
You're undeserving, just like the others.
Yeah, you've looked after Elliot's heart well enough but I'd like it back now, please.
It's time to complete Elliot's masterpiece.
Well, it's been described by some as "ghoulish" and "in poor taste", but the installation behind me last night scooped the £40,000 Turner Prize, and has broken all box-office records here at the Nine Gallery in east London.
Well, the artist behind this extraordinary sculpture, who's seemingly come from nowhere to take the art world by storm, joins me now.
Maurice Wickham, congratulations.
Thank you.
Now, talk us through this exhibition, because you've obviously put your heart into it.
Well, not quite.