Newzoids (2015) s01e03 Episode Script
Episode 3
1 Yes, I did indeed convene with that there Edward Miliband.
He's a weird-looking idealist what pontificates unrealistic political claptrap.
So we had nothing in common! I'm hotter than him, an' all! (PUFFING AND PANTING) Darling, my water's broken! Don't worry, it's BUPA, darling.
They'll have another bottle.
No, no, I mean the baby's coming! What? Right, action stations! All hands on deck! Man the lifeboats! Hurry! Call the midwife! What ho! Yes, you're in luck, it's me! Don't worry, your Royal Highness, your Royal Middleness, you're in safe han Whoa! Careful.
All fine, your Royal Willie-ness.
Bit rude.
She said, hogging the camera.
Get on with it! Of course, sirrah.
Respectful curtsey.
Oof! Oh, cripes, blimey and other things people definitely said in the '50s! Get this man to a hospital! We're in a bloody hospital! That's a bit of luck.
The baby's coming! (GROANS) Push, darling, push.
It's the last bit of work you'll ever have to do in your life.
Right, time for the birthington.
Now, towels, hot water, and most importantly .
.
tiny red carpet! Is daddy going to cut the cord? Um Er Don't worry.
One's across it.
Snip snip.
It's only the actual Queen! I declare this baby Open-season for the tabloids! Gadzooks and swoons! Bet Toff! For people who love soccer as much as I do! Whether, like me, you support Aston Ham, or even Tottingham Rovers or Livercastle United, It's all about who will win the most scrums.
Who will be sent off by the umpire? Who will kick the round thingy into the net thingy? Bet Toff.
Hang on, the latest live odds are coming up on your screen now.
Public believe Cameron's 'brain fade' excuse - a billion to one.
Cripes! Bet Toff.
Available until May 7th only.
(CHANTS) # I'm fat, I'm round, I've got a million pounds.
# Cameron! Cameron! Wuh! At least I tried.
Welcome to This Morning.
I'm Philip Schofield, friendly in front of the camera, dead behind the eyes.
And I'm Amanda Holden, everyone's tenth favourite blonde.
Coming up on the show, I've been doing some serious investigative journalist research by printing this off the internet! Proof that Vladimir Putin's cat has entered the Ukraine! This is serious Panorama stuff, people! But first, sperm facials.
A new report by scientists suggests that women rubbing sperm into their skin can have an amazing effect on your show's viewing figures.
We were going to try it out live on the programme but a grown-up stopped us.
So, instead, I'll be asking Alison Hammond about the latest showbiz news.
It's not entertaining as such, but at least it'll bring us closer to lunch.
Will you please welcome to the stage, Britain's biggest joker, Nigel Farage! (APPLAUSE) Settle down, settle down.
Right.
There's an Englishman, an Irishman, and a Bulgarian.
And the barman says to the Bulgarian, 'Get out, you're taking a job that traditionally belongs to a Scotsman.
' Not racist at all.
I was just tired.
Here's one.
Why is UKIP like ISIS? They're both happy to see Muslims leave the country! What? Self-deporting Muslims! What's not to like? Boo! Get off! Bloody lefties.
Who picked this audience? Haven't gone down this badly since my plane crash.
Don't you mean car crash? We saw the leaders debate! Very funny.
Somebody check his passport.
Only having a bit of fun with you.
Unless you are foreign! Not racist, just good old vote-winning casual bigotry.
Mine's a pint.
(BELCHES) Hey, Uncle Roy.
Me and the boys were like wondering what the plan is for the next 45 minutes.
Well, Wayne, I think the priority has got to be getting these broad beans planted.
Eh? We've seen the last of the frost and they should come up very nicely.
Never mind that, boss, you're supposed to be managing the team.
What do you want the lads to do? Ah, now, Wayne, this is very important.
If we get a corner Yes, boss? Be very careful, I've planted some carrots there! Uncle Roy, you seem more interested in your allotment than the match.
In many ways, Wayne, football is very much like gardening.
The endless cycle of the seasons.
We qualify, we humiliate ourselves, we rebuild.
(WHISTLE BLOWS) Eh! We've kicked off! Oi! Do you mind?! Ha! Serves you right, you cheeky little scamp! Booyakashah! I'm Evan Davis, but you can call me the Funky Monkey News Junky.
On tonight's not at all dumbed-down Newsnight, I'll be having top quality bantz with Dave, aka the Prime Minister.
Hi.
People are saying your heart isn't in this election.
You look like a man who's lost the desire to win.
What do you say to that? It's really very simple, Evan.
I don't give a shit.
I'm sorry? Look, I'll be all right, whatever happens.
So I don't give a shit.
Is that the right attitude for a Prime Minister? I don't give a shit.
In fact, I don't even give a shit about not giving a shit.
Right, I'm off for a mini-break in Tuscany.
I've rented a lovely West Ham.
Don't you mean a Villa? Evan.
Yes? I don't give a shit.
Fo, shizzle-zip-bang-pung! Good night.
It's so nice of you to do this, Mr Barlow.
Nothing's too much trouble for these little angels.
Also, the petrol I used to get here is tax-deductible, so it's win-win.
She's a very sick girl, so if you could cheer her up, it'd be much appreciated.
I'll tell her some exciting celebrity anecdotes.
Let me tell you about the one time in Homebase Which is funny because I was actually there to renew my loft insulation.
(LIFE-SUPPORT MACHINE BEEPS) Wait, what's happening? I'm sorry to say this, Mr Barlow, but it would appear you have literally bored her to death.
Oh, 'eck.
What if I tell her about the hilarious mix-up I had in the carpark of a B&Q? (MULTIPLE LIFE SUPPORT MACHINES BEEP) I think you'd better go.
OK.
That reminds me of this one time in Argos, when Are you OK, petal.
Eh, I'll fetch you a Bovril.
Hi-de-hi, campers! Oh! Settle down, girls! You can tell by the screams, we've only got the nation's number one crush on the show.
Say hello to the sexiest nerd on the planet, Ed Miliband! (AUDIENCE SCREAMS) Hello, Alan Carr.
Ed, Ed, the teenage girls on Twitter are going crazy for you! (AUDIENCE SCREAMS) We love you, Ed! I know.
It's a bit embarrassing, really.
So, what we all want to know is, do you trim, shave or wax? AUDIENCE: Whoo! Um Actually, if you don't mind, I'd rather you asked me a serious question.
All right.
If Labour don't get a majority, aren't the SNP just going to hold you to ransom? Er Who wants to see my topless Poldark pose? (CRAZED SCREAMS) Sorry, those are mine.
Don't ask why they're so stiff.
Ooh! Whee! Sh-bung! OK, let's go.
Olivia Colman.
Chubley's Jam, take one.
Chubley's Jam.
Less sugar, more fruit.
(SOBBING) Hold it.
Sorry, Olivia, why are you crying? Oh, did you want it funny? I'm so sorry.
Chubley's Jam.
More fruit, less sugar.
No, that's too much the other way, Olivia.
We want it just straight down the middle.
Oh.
Well, you see, I only really do very happy or very sad.
For instance, Peep Show.
Mark, what have you been doing with my toothbrush? Or Broadchurch.
The body was sexually assaulted prior to death.
Do you see? Yeah, absolutely.
And they were both fantastic performances, but in this particular bit, we just want in the middle.
Funny in the middle or sad in the middle? Right smack in the middle.
Neither funny, nor sad.
Got you.
OK.
Let's do another one.
Chubley's Jam.
Hold it there.
Look, Olivia, Livi, Liv, you're one of the finest actresses of your generation.
This should be a doddle, bish, bash, bosh, twenty grand in your pocket.
Of course.
Can't you think of an experience in your life that was utterly bland.
Use that.
Something where nothing happened, neither funny nor sad.
It was just bleurgh.
Well, I did do once go on the One Show.
Perfect! (BAGPIPES PLAY) (PHONE RINGS) Hmm.
Wonder who that is.
Hello? Och-aye, the noo, Alex.
Supreme Leader here.
Eh?! How did you get my contact details? Easy.
North Korea have state of the art computering system! Anyway, I am calling to offer my support.
We have lot in common.
I don't think we do.
We both eat well when rest of nation has terrible diet.
Aye, but apart from that You hate your rich Southern neighbour, right? Well And you have nuclear weapons that you want to get rid of.
I guess I do.
Well, why not drop them on your Southern neighbour? That's how I'm going to get rid of mine.
Now, hang on, you've gone too far.
You're sounding like a dangerous, power-mad egomaniac! Yeah, that another thing we have in common! Welcome back.
Joining us now is the self-appointed comic Messiah, Russell Brand.
Greetings and salutations.
So, Russell, big news.
I understand you've given up sex.
Verily, Amanda, I have eschewed the pleasures of carnal gratification and shall henceforth be assuming the mantle of celibacy.
Oh, I've got here that you've given up sex.
How long's it been now? Thus far, I have successfully subdued my libidinosity for a period of one calendar week.
That's amazing.
Has it been difficult? Oh, Lawks! (RUMBLING) Uh-oh.
Sounds like we might be about to do that sperm facial after all.
Cut to the adverts! Get on with it, George! Oohooh It turns out that doing nothing isn't enough to win this election after all.
Pickles, did no-one ever teach you to knock? Oh, sorry, I thought I smelled cooking! What are you up to? Winning votes.
We're offering heaps of stuff for the rich, but we need to do something to win over the poor.
So we asked ourselves what do poor people like? And this is what we came up with Ta-da! Gravy, Amanda Holden and drugs.
Not necessarily in that order.
Have you ever met a poor person? Of course, I went to Man-chester only the other day.
We're going to give all the poor people a free bag of crystal meth! You could call me Mr White! (LAUGHS) What do you two twazzocks know about crystal meth? Well, I studied chemistry at prep school And I studied 'meths' at Eton.
(BOTH LAUGH) Actually, this could work.
The only way any poor bugger will ever vote for you is if they're completely off their tits! George? Uh-oh! Take cover! Crikey! Well, it's not the first policy that's blown up in my face.
So, Roy, what do you think about all these footballers taking laughing gas?! I think this so-called 'hippy crack' is a dreadful problem which is getting more and more widespread.
Only this afternoon, half the lads were rolling around laughing hysterically, while I was giving them a serious team talk about how we are going to win the 2018 World Cup.
(LAUGHTER) Blimey, this stuff is everywhere.
Ed Balls, have you superglued my office door shut again? It's locked.
There's someone in there.
Yvette?! You can come in now.
But Oh, sugar! Lord Sugar to you! Er (DRAMATIC MUSIC) I decided we needed help.
Actually, sorry, could I just switch that music off? I've got it! Just give it a thump, that usually works.
We need your help, Lord Sugar.
Too bloody right.
You're neck and neck in the polls with only a week to go.
Team Labour needs a rebrand.
But how do we do that? Well, if bugger-lugs can turn himself into a sex symbol, then anything's possible! Ooh.
Right, I'm going to set you a task, so go and await instructions in front of a London landmark.
What's the point of that? I don't know, that's how my programme works! (PHONE RINGS) Your challenge is to design a new logo for the Labour Party.
Right, so we'll need focus groups, researchers, designers and about £1 million.
You've got five hours and an A2 flipchart Ed, you are team leader.
Have you got what it takes? Hell, yeah.
I've got a felt-tip pen.
I can't hear you, you're breaking up.
Gotta go.
(CRACKLE & BANG) OK, let's do this.
Right.
Whoops! Here's the old logo.
What's wrong with it? Everything, it's terrible.
What does the logo make you think of? The Labour Party.
Get rid of the rose.
No keep it.
The rose is English.
Add a thistle for the Scots.
And a leek for the Welsh.
Good idea.
No, you plonker, it's daffodils for Wales.
A daffodil and a leak.
And something for Northern Ireland.
We should represent all the faiths.
Good idea, I will draw Mohammed! No! Meanwhile, at Highgrove, Charles and Camilla are getting Royally sozzled watching Britain's Got Talent I thought you were fantastic and I'm not just saying that because I've been hypnotised by a dog.
Britain's Got Talent? More like Britain Needs Therapy.
Where do these cretins get the idea they can get rich and famous by tottering onstage in a bikini with a few hula hoops?! Quite, darling.
Why can't they do it the old-fashioned way by coming into this world out of a Royal foo-foo? Beg your pardon? Top up? Woof! (SIGHS) My bucket list routine killed at the correspondents' dinner, but now I got nothing to do, again! Oh, yes, you have, sir! Keane! I didn't hear you come in.
A good aide is a stealthy aide, Mr President, sir.
I've drawn up your schedule for today Let's see, 8am, look at calendar and sigh.
Done that.
You are bang on schedule, sir! Next, 8:10golf.
And after the golf? Golf.
Indoor golf, outdoor golf, golfing lunch, golf siesta.
golf extra.
Then meeting with the leader of the Democrats in Congress.
Ooh! To find out how I can get some legislation past the Republican majority, so I actually have something to do for the next 18 months? No, to play golf.
Seriously, is that it? Nothing but golf all day? Well, David Cameron did want to schedule a phone call.
Tell him I'm playing golf.
I set you an impossible task with no time and resources to do it.
How did you get on? We are quite pleased with the results, your Sugar-shit.
That is the least appealing, most horrific thing I have clapped eyes on, and I've worked with Katie Hopkins.
What the hell is it supposed to be? Well, it's a sort of rose, thistle, leek, daffodil, shamrock, Isle of Man legs, 'LBGT' Cornish pasty, Stonehenge, flat cap, unions, NHStheme.
That looks it was designed by a committee of blindfolded camels on crack-cocaine.
We knew you'd say that.
Which is why we came up with an alternative design Hang on, that's the old logo.
Yes, it is.
Sorry, Lord Sir Alan Lord.
No, no, fair dues.
Now I think about it, it sums up exactly who you are.
Yes! It says growth.
Hope.
A brighter future.
No, it says pricks.
You're all fired.
At least I tried.
I'm Beyonce and I woke up like this.
# Independent woman, I run my own life # Rock star, sex goddess, businesswoman and wife # But I got these two groupies I don't understand # Can't shake off, Kanye West and Kim Kardashian # Yes! It's ma girl, Bee! # Yoo-hoo, Beyonce, hey, it's me! # Uh-oh, uh-oh, oh, no, no # Uh-oh, uh-oh, oh, no, no # I'm everything that they're not # Every time I look around they're in shot # Hey, Bee, I think you're the best # I know that already, please give it a rest # If your booty looks small, just add an inch to it # Breakin' the internet's a cinch with it # So enormous now it almost makes you flinch at it # Girlfriend, soon you're gonna need a winch for it # I got class, she got brass, her husband is just a pest # You get dissed, I get pissed, stage a public protest # Don't do that, you look a twat and no-one is impressed # Ladies and gentlemen, it's Kanye West # My lyrics hit you # Brap, brap # I'm the Shakespeare of rap # Headlining Glasto, it's me # You just copy Jay-Z # Want everyone to know who I am # Put my whole life on Instagram # Though no-one gives a damn # Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no they don't # Beyonce was the best in this song # Respect artistry, she should get a fuckin' award for it! # Want to see me balance a box of wine on my vagina? # Uh-oh, uh-oh, oh, no, no! 'Are you looking to find that special someone for interesting conversations and maybe more?' ParliMate is the new app devoted to finding you the perfect match for a coalition.
All you've got to do is swipe left or right.
I'll swing whichever way you want! I'm looking for someone who's into pain.
Choose the SNP, and I can promise you years of abuse and humiliation.
Of course, if you want me to stop the safe word is independence! Don't forget me if you'd like a threesome! I'd like to hook up with someone who shares my interests - pubs, pubs, and long walksto a pub.
Oh, and no foreigners.
G'day! Choose the wrong person and you could seriously regret it, as the Green Party has found out since making me leader.
Hello.
I'm looking for someone who's interested in Wales and Welsh issues generally.
Wales, Wales, Wales No, no, don't swipe me, I wanted to talk about Wales! ParliMate.
Go on, try a coalition, what have you got to lose apart from your career and your self-respect? (SOBS) Where is he?! Trevor should have been here before me! I'm sure he won't be long.
Hello, m'deary.
M'sweetness.
I'm Mel.
And I dress like a cool history teacher.
Trevor had some bad news for you.
So he called in the experts.
Eh?! We're going to give you the old sugar-coated Bake Off Send off.
So where's my fiance? He's not coming.
What? He's got cold feet and run off with his yoga teacher like a naughty little scamp.
He's pulled out.
Ooh! He's into somebody else now.
Cor blimey, what are we like? But don't worry, bridalicious, you'll be fine.
Now, watch as I shimmy my jacket.
And I squidge my face up like two field mice kissing.
So how do you feel? Not bad, actually.
I feel pretty good.
I'm going to get drunk with my friends at the reception.
You two really are adorable, aren't you? Bless.
Well, it looks like your job is done here.
And so's yours, your favourite choir boy's gone to the tabloids.
Look, I'm holding my hands up like I'm ruffling a puppy! Wobbling my quiff! Wobbling my quiff! It's OK, everyone, I'm back, the election can go ahead! I'm here with Home Secretary Theresa May.
So, Theresa, why should people vote Conservative? Because if Labour form a pact with the SNP, it will be a constitutional crisis! Aren't you exaggerating a bit? The oceans will turn to blood, the skies will darken, and the merciless fire will consume us all.
Theresa, what would you say to people who accuse you of childish scaremongering? Booooo! Wahhhh! Well, as you can see, we've got quite a severe front coming in here with this ridge of low pressure What the fuck's going on here? That's not how you do a weather forecast these days! You've got to use words like thundersnow! Weather bomb! Snowpocalypse! Yes, but in meteorological terms - Fuckity bye to you, pal.
Strap yourselves in, folks, there's an Atlantic shit storm heading our way, with a full-on piss blizzard of thunder wet.
This is no ordinary rain, this is a weathershambles, a cumulobastard, a total rain fuck.
It's the sort of rain that would make Noah abandon his fucking ark and climb inside a blue whale's vadge for shelter.
Elsewhere, mostly mild with occasional sunny spells.
Now, where's my fucking Tardis? I'm off to the summer of '76!
He's a weird-looking idealist what pontificates unrealistic political claptrap.
So we had nothing in common! I'm hotter than him, an' all! (PUFFING AND PANTING) Darling, my water's broken! Don't worry, it's BUPA, darling.
They'll have another bottle.
No, no, I mean the baby's coming! What? Right, action stations! All hands on deck! Man the lifeboats! Hurry! Call the midwife! What ho! Yes, you're in luck, it's me! Don't worry, your Royal Highness, your Royal Middleness, you're in safe han Whoa! Careful.
All fine, your Royal Willie-ness.
Bit rude.
She said, hogging the camera.
Get on with it! Of course, sirrah.
Respectful curtsey.
Oof! Oh, cripes, blimey and other things people definitely said in the '50s! Get this man to a hospital! We're in a bloody hospital! That's a bit of luck.
The baby's coming! (GROANS) Push, darling, push.
It's the last bit of work you'll ever have to do in your life.
Right, time for the birthington.
Now, towels, hot water, and most importantly .
.
tiny red carpet! Is daddy going to cut the cord? Um Er Don't worry.
One's across it.
Snip snip.
It's only the actual Queen! I declare this baby Open-season for the tabloids! Gadzooks and swoons! Bet Toff! For people who love soccer as much as I do! Whether, like me, you support Aston Ham, or even Tottingham Rovers or Livercastle United, It's all about who will win the most scrums.
Who will be sent off by the umpire? Who will kick the round thingy into the net thingy? Bet Toff.
Hang on, the latest live odds are coming up on your screen now.
Public believe Cameron's 'brain fade' excuse - a billion to one.
Cripes! Bet Toff.
Available until May 7th only.
(CHANTS) # I'm fat, I'm round, I've got a million pounds.
# Cameron! Cameron! Wuh! At least I tried.
Welcome to This Morning.
I'm Philip Schofield, friendly in front of the camera, dead behind the eyes.
And I'm Amanda Holden, everyone's tenth favourite blonde.
Coming up on the show, I've been doing some serious investigative journalist research by printing this off the internet! Proof that Vladimir Putin's cat has entered the Ukraine! This is serious Panorama stuff, people! But first, sperm facials.
A new report by scientists suggests that women rubbing sperm into their skin can have an amazing effect on your show's viewing figures.
We were going to try it out live on the programme but a grown-up stopped us.
So, instead, I'll be asking Alison Hammond about the latest showbiz news.
It's not entertaining as such, but at least it'll bring us closer to lunch.
Will you please welcome to the stage, Britain's biggest joker, Nigel Farage! (APPLAUSE) Settle down, settle down.
Right.
There's an Englishman, an Irishman, and a Bulgarian.
And the barman says to the Bulgarian, 'Get out, you're taking a job that traditionally belongs to a Scotsman.
' Not racist at all.
I was just tired.
Here's one.
Why is UKIP like ISIS? They're both happy to see Muslims leave the country! What? Self-deporting Muslims! What's not to like? Boo! Get off! Bloody lefties.
Who picked this audience? Haven't gone down this badly since my plane crash.
Don't you mean car crash? We saw the leaders debate! Very funny.
Somebody check his passport.
Only having a bit of fun with you.
Unless you are foreign! Not racist, just good old vote-winning casual bigotry.
Mine's a pint.
(BELCHES) Hey, Uncle Roy.
Me and the boys were like wondering what the plan is for the next 45 minutes.
Well, Wayne, I think the priority has got to be getting these broad beans planted.
Eh? We've seen the last of the frost and they should come up very nicely.
Never mind that, boss, you're supposed to be managing the team.
What do you want the lads to do? Ah, now, Wayne, this is very important.
If we get a corner Yes, boss? Be very careful, I've planted some carrots there! Uncle Roy, you seem more interested in your allotment than the match.
In many ways, Wayne, football is very much like gardening.
The endless cycle of the seasons.
We qualify, we humiliate ourselves, we rebuild.
(WHISTLE BLOWS) Eh! We've kicked off! Oi! Do you mind?! Ha! Serves you right, you cheeky little scamp! Booyakashah! I'm Evan Davis, but you can call me the Funky Monkey News Junky.
On tonight's not at all dumbed-down Newsnight, I'll be having top quality bantz with Dave, aka the Prime Minister.
Hi.
People are saying your heart isn't in this election.
You look like a man who's lost the desire to win.
What do you say to that? It's really very simple, Evan.
I don't give a shit.
I'm sorry? Look, I'll be all right, whatever happens.
So I don't give a shit.
Is that the right attitude for a Prime Minister? I don't give a shit.
In fact, I don't even give a shit about not giving a shit.
Right, I'm off for a mini-break in Tuscany.
I've rented a lovely West Ham.
Don't you mean a Villa? Evan.
Yes? I don't give a shit.
Fo, shizzle-zip-bang-pung! Good night.
It's so nice of you to do this, Mr Barlow.
Nothing's too much trouble for these little angels.
Also, the petrol I used to get here is tax-deductible, so it's win-win.
She's a very sick girl, so if you could cheer her up, it'd be much appreciated.
I'll tell her some exciting celebrity anecdotes.
Let me tell you about the one time in Homebase Which is funny because I was actually there to renew my loft insulation.
(LIFE-SUPPORT MACHINE BEEPS) Wait, what's happening? I'm sorry to say this, Mr Barlow, but it would appear you have literally bored her to death.
Oh, 'eck.
What if I tell her about the hilarious mix-up I had in the carpark of a B&Q? (MULTIPLE LIFE SUPPORT MACHINES BEEP) I think you'd better go.
OK.
That reminds me of this one time in Argos, when Are you OK, petal.
Eh, I'll fetch you a Bovril.
Hi-de-hi, campers! Oh! Settle down, girls! You can tell by the screams, we've only got the nation's number one crush on the show.
Say hello to the sexiest nerd on the planet, Ed Miliband! (AUDIENCE SCREAMS) Hello, Alan Carr.
Ed, Ed, the teenage girls on Twitter are going crazy for you! (AUDIENCE SCREAMS) We love you, Ed! I know.
It's a bit embarrassing, really.
So, what we all want to know is, do you trim, shave or wax? AUDIENCE: Whoo! Um Actually, if you don't mind, I'd rather you asked me a serious question.
All right.
If Labour don't get a majority, aren't the SNP just going to hold you to ransom? Er Who wants to see my topless Poldark pose? (CRAZED SCREAMS) Sorry, those are mine.
Don't ask why they're so stiff.
Ooh! Whee! Sh-bung! OK, let's go.
Olivia Colman.
Chubley's Jam, take one.
Chubley's Jam.
Less sugar, more fruit.
(SOBBING) Hold it.
Sorry, Olivia, why are you crying? Oh, did you want it funny? I'm so sorry.
Chubley's Jam.
More fruit, less sugar.
No, that's too much the other way, Olivia.
We want it just straight down the middle.
Oh.
Well, you see, I only really do very happy or very sad.
For instance, Peep Show.
Mark, what have you been doing with my toothbrush? Or Broadchurch.
The body was sexually assaulted prior to death.
Do you see? Yeah, absolutely.
And they were both fantastic performances, but in this particular bit, we just want in the middle.
Funny in the middle or sad in the middle? Right smack in the middle.
Neither funny, nor sad.
Got you.
OK.
Let's do another one.
Chubley's Jam.
Hold it there.
Look, Olivia, Livi, Liv, you're one of the finest actresses of your generation.
This should be a doddle, bish, bash, bosh, twenty grand in your pocket.
Of course.
Can't you think of an experience in your life that was utterly bland.
Use that.
Something where nothing happened, neither funny nor sad.
It was just bleurgh.
Well, I did do once go on the One Show.
Perfect! (BAGPIPES PLAY) (PHONE RINGS) Hmm.
Wonder who that is.
Hello? Och-aye, the noo, Alex.
Supreme Leader here.
Eh?! How did you get my contact details? Easy.
North Korea have state of the art computering system! Anyway, I am calling to offer my support.
We have lot in common.
I don't think we do.
We both eat well when rest of nation has terrible diet.
Aye, but apart from that You hate your rich Southern neighbour, right? Well And you have nuclear weapons that you want to get rid of.
I guess I do.
Well, why not drop them on your Southern neighbour? That's how I'm going to get rid of mine.
Now, hang on, you've gone too far.
You're sounding like a dangerous, power-mad egomaniac! Yeah, that another thing we have in common! Welcome back.
Joining us now is the self-appointed comic Messiah, Russell Brand.
Greetings and salutations.
So, Russell, big news.
I understand you've given up sex.
Verily, Amanda, I have eschewed the pleasures of carnal gratification and shall henceforth be assuming the mantle of celibacy.
Oh, I've got here that you've given up sex.
How long's it been now? Thus far, I have successfully subdued my libidinosity for a period of one calendar week.
That's amazing.
Has it been difficult? Oh, Lawks! (RUMBLING) Uh-oh.
Sounds like we might be about to do that sperm facial after all.
Cut to the adverts! Get on with it, George! Oohooh It turns out that doing nothing isn't enough to win this election after all.
Pickles, did no-one ever teach you to knock? Oh, sorry, I thought I smelled cooking! What are you up to? Winning votes.
We're offering heaps of stuff for the rich, but we need to do something to win over the poor.
So we asked ourselves what do poor people like? And this is what we came up with Ta-da! Gravy, Amanda Holden and drugs.
Not necessarily in that order.
Have you ever met a poor person? Of course, I went to Man-chester only the other day.
We're going to give all the poor people a free bag of crystal meth! You could call me Mr White! (LAUGHS) What do you two twazzocks know about crystal meth? Well, I studied chemistry at prep school And I studied 'meths' at Eton.
(BOTH LAUGH) Actually, this could work.
The only way any poor bugger will ever vote for you is if they're completely off their tits! George? Uh-oh! Take cover! Crikey! Well, it's not the first policy that's blown up in my face.
So, Roy, what do you think about all these footballers taking laughing gas?! I think this so-called 'hippy crack' is a dreadful problem which is getting more and more widespread.
Only this afternoon, half the lads were rolling around laughing hysterically, while I was giving them a serious team talk about how we are going to win the 2018 World Cup.
(LAUGHTER) Blimey, this stuff is everywhere.
Ed Balls, have you superglued my office door shut again? It's locked.
There's someone in there.
Yvette?! You can come in now.
But Oh, sugar! Lord Sugar to you! Er (DRAMATIC MUSIC) I decided we needed help.
Actually, sorry, could I just switch that music off? I've got it! Just give it a thump, that usually works.
We need your help, Lord Sugar.
Too bloody right.
You're neck and neck in the polls with only a week to go.
Team Labour needs a rebrand.
But how do we do that? Well, if bugger-lugs can turn himself into a sex symbol, then anything's possible! Ooh.
Right, I'm going to set you a task, so go and await instructions in front of a London landmark.
What's the point of that? I don't know, that's how my programme works! (PHONE RINGS) Your challenge is to design a new logo for the Labour Party.
Right, so we'll need focus groups, researchers, designers and about £1 million.
You've got five hours and an A2 flipchart Ed, you are team leader.
Have you got what it takes? Hell, yeah.
I've got a felt-tip pen.
I can't hear you, you're breaking up.
Gotta go.
(CRACKLE & BANG) OK, let's do this.
Right.
Whoops! Here's the old logo.
What's wrong with it? Everything, it's terrible.
What does the logo make you think of? The Labour Party.
Get rid of the rose.
No keep it.
The rose is English.
Add a thistle for the Scots.
And a leek for the Welsh.
Good idea.
No, you plonker, it's daffodils for Wales.
A daffodil and a leak.
And something for Northern Ireland.
We should represent all the faiths.
Good idea, I will draw Mohammed! No! Meanwhile, at Highgrove, Charles and Camilla are getting Royally sozzled watching Britain's Got Talent I thought you were fantastic and I'm not just saying that because I've been hypnotised by a dog.
Britain's Got Talent? More like Britain Needs Therapy.
Where do these cretins get the idea they can get rich and famous by tottering onstage in a bikini with a few hula hoops?! Quite, darling.
Why can't they do it the old-fashioned way by coming into this world out of a Royal foo-foo? Beg your pardon? Top up? Woof! (SIGHS) My bucket list routine killed at the correspondents' dinner, but now I got nothing to do, again! Oh, yes, you have, sir! Keane! I didn't hear you come in.
A good aide is a stealthy aide, Mr President, sir.
I've drawn up your schedule for today Let's see, 8am, look at calendar and sigh.
Done that.
You are bang on schedule, sir! Next, 8:10golf.
And after the golf? Golf.
Indoor golf, outdoor golf, golfing lunch, golf siesta.
golf extra.
Then meeting with the leader of the Democrats in Congress.
Ooh! To find out how I can get some legislation past the Republican majority, so I actually have something to do for the next 18 months? No, to play golf.
Seriously, is that it? Nothing but golf all day? Well, David Cameron did want to schedule a phone call.
Tell him I'm playing golf.
I set you an impossible task with no time and resources to do it.
How did you get on? We are quite pleased with the results, your Sugar-shit.
That is the least appealing, most horrific thing I have clapped eyes on, and I've worked with Katie Hopkins.
What the hell is it supposed to be? Well, it's a sort of rose, thistle, leek, daffodil, shamrock, Isle of Man legs, 'LBGT' Cornish pasty, Stonehenge, flat cap, unions, NHStheme.
That looks it was designed by a committee of blindfolded camels on crack-cocaine.
We knew you'd say that.
Which is why we came up with an alternative design Hang on, that's the old logo.
Yes, it is.
Sorry, Lord Sir Alan Lord.
No, no, fair dues.
Now I think about it, it sums up exactly who you are.
Yes! It says growth.
Hope.
A brighter future.
No, it says pricks.
You're all fired.
At least I tried.
I'm Beyonce and I woke up like this.
# Independent woman, I run my own life # Rock star, sex goddess, businesswoman and wife # But I got these two groupies I don't understand # Can't shake off, Kanye West and Kim Kardashian # Yes! It's ma girl, Bee! # Yoo-hoo, Beyonce, hey, it's me! # Uh-oh, uh-oh, oh, no, no # Uh-oh, uh-oh, oh, no, no # I'm everything that they're not # Every time I look around they're in shot # Hey, Bee, I think you're the best # I know that already, please give it a rest # If your booty looks small, just add an inch to it # Breakin' the internet's a cinch with it # So enormous now it almost makes you flinch at it # Girlfriend, soon you're gonna need a winch for it # I got class, she got brass, her husband is just a pest # You get dissed, I get pissed, stage a public protest # Don't do that, you look a twat and no-one is impressed # Ladies and gentlemen, it's Kanye West # My lyrics hit you # Brap, brap # I'm the Shakespeare of rap # Headlining Glasto, it's me # You just copy Jay-Z # Want everyone to know who I am # Put my whole life on Instagram # Though no-one gives a damn # Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no they don't # Beyonce was the best in this song # Respect artistry, she should get a fuckin' award for it! # Want to see me balance a box of wine on my vagina? # Uh-oh, uh-oh, oh, no, no! 'Are you looking to find that special someone for interesting conversations and maybe more?' ParliMate is the new app devoted to finding you the perfect match for a coalition.
All you've got to do is swipe left or right.
I'll swing whichever way you want! I'm looking for someone who's into pain.
Choose the SNP, and I can promise you years of abuse and humiliation.
Of course, if you want me to stop the safe word is independence! Don't forget me if you'd like a threesome! I'd like to hook up with someone who shares my interests - pubs, pubs, and long walksto a pub.
Oh, and no foreigners.
G'day! Choose the wrong person and you could seriously regret it, as the Green Party has found out since making me leader.
Hello.
I'm looking for someone who's interested in Wales and Welsh issues generally.
Wales, Wales, Wales No, no, don't swipe me, I wanted to talk about Wales! ParliMate.
Go on, try a coalition, what have you got to lose apart from your career and your self-respect? (SOBS) Where is he?! Trevor should have been here before me! I'm sure he won't be long.
Hello, m'deary.
M'sweetness.
I'm Mel.
And I dress like a cool history teacher.
Trevor had some bad news for you.
So he called in the experts.
Eh?! We're going to give you the old sugar-coated Bake Off Send off.
So where's my fiance? He's not coming.
What? He's got cold feet and run off with his yoga teacher like a naughty little scamp.
He's pulled out.
Ooh! He's into somebody else now.
Cor blimey, what are we like? But don't worry, bridalicious, you'll be fine.
Now, watch as I shimmy my jacket.
And I squidge my face up like two field mice kissing.
So how do you feel? Not bad, actually.
I feel pretty good.
I'm going to get drunk with my friends at the reception.
You two really are adorable, aren't you? Bless.
Well, it looks like your job is done here.
And so's yours, your favourite choir boy's gone to the tabloids.
Look, I'm holding my hands up like I'm ruffling a puppy! Wobbling my quiff! Wobbling my quiff! It's OK, everyone, I'm back, the election can go ahead! I'm here with Home Secretary Theresa May.
So, Theresa, why should people vote Conservative? Because if Labour form a pact with the SNP, it will be a constitutional crisis! Aren't you exaggerating a bit? The oceans will turn to blood, the skies will darken, and the merciless fire will consume us all.
Theresa, what would you say to people who accuse you of childish scaremongering? Booooo! Wahhhh! Well, as you can see, we've got quite a severe front coming in here with this ridge of low pressure What the fuck's going on here? That's not how you do a weather forecast these days! You've got to use words like thundersnow! Weather bomb! Snowpocalypse! Yes, but in meteorological terms - Fuckity bye to you, pal.
Strap yourselves in, folks, there's an Atlantic shit storm heading our way, with a full-on piss blizzard of thunder wet.
This is no ordinary rain, this is a weathershambles, a cumulobastard, a total rain fuck.
It's the sort of rain that would make Noah abandon his fucking ark and climb inside a blue whale's vadge for shelter.
Elsewhere, mostly mild with occasional sunny spells.
Now, where's my fucking Tardis? I'm off to the summer of '76!