The content of this page was created by users. It has not been screened or verified by IMDb staff.
: "I wanna be loved by you, just you!" Davina
: I have to tell you that if you sing "boop-boop be-doo" one more time, I will take that microphone and shove it so far into your digestive system your arse will be able to perform stand-up comedy from the *inside*! Trevor
: Fuck off, spaniel tits! I've *got* to rehearse! Davina
] Who *else* is in this show? Trevor
: There's a scaffolding engineer from Teesside, who does Barry Manilow... Davina
: Yes... Trevor
: A bricklayer from the East End, who turns in a very believable Elaine Paige... Davina
: Mmm? Trevor
: And a trainee traffic warden from Essex, who does the Pet Shop Boys... Davina
: Both of them? Trevor
: I think so. Davina
: Well, that's it, then. You've got no chance, have you? Trevor
: Well, thank you *so* much for your support! Davina
: You're welcome. Trevor
: I shall go and practice my boop-boop be-doos in the bathroom! Davina
: Don't forget your microphone, Norma Jeane!
: Stars in Their Eyes is on telly tonight, with Trevor... Hamish
: I'm sorry, but I refuse to watch it! There's a very interesting documentary on the Discovery Channel... Davina
: What's it about? Hamish
: It's about the hindsight of stress-related injuries among South Atlantic dolphins and people who work in colour copying shops. JP
: Don't you want to see Trevor? We could ring up and vote for him! Hamish
: *Why* would we want to vote for him? We both know that Trevor is only spectacularly proficient at one thing; choking his pink whippet! Unless he plans to do *that* on Stars in Their Eyes, he doesn't stand a chance! JP
: I wouldn't put it past him...
: Well, this is it, guys! The big moment! They're going to announce the winner! Davina
: It's terribly exciting, isn't it? JP
: I can hardly wait! My arse has contracted to the size of a tiny peanut! Davina
: Do you think Trevor's going to win? Hamish
: Oh, for fuck's sake!
: Well, I suppose we should look on the bright side... Trevor would have been completely unbearable if he'd won... JP
: How do you think he'll take it? Davina
: Badly, I should think. He's been absolutely living the part of Marilyn Monroe... I caught him spangling off over a photograph of John F. Kennedy on Tuesday... JP
: Ja... And last night he ate three bottles of aspirin...
: [Reading a newspaper
] Oh, look at this... Davina
: What? Hamish
: Well, it says here that the Earth has been hit by a meteorite the size of Wales... Davina
: Really? Where did it land? Hamish
: [Looking over a miniature Nativity scene
] "We are three wise men and we bring you gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. We have absolutely no idea what 'myrrh' is, but we thought you'd like some anyway." Davina
: What the fuck are you doing? JP
: I'm re-enacting the moment when the Three Wise Men meet the little baby Jesus. Davina
: Well, could you tell them to keep the noise down, please? I have a headache. JP
: At least I'm doing something that conjures up the spirit of Christmas, what are you doing? Davina
: What does it look like I'm doing? JP
: I'm not sure... But it's giving me a very warm feeling inside... Davina
: Tosser. JP
: I'd appreciate it if you didn't swear in front of the Virgin Mary. Davina
: And I'd appreciate it if you didn't exist! JP
: So... Cleaning yourself? It must take a lot of practice to do it properly. You need to be quite supple. So... You probably have to work out. Do you think you could teach me how to do it? Davina
: Why are you so weird?
: I've had a Christmas card from my boyfriend Vince. It would seem that he's taken a group of underprivileged children to visit Santa in Lapland, which is why he can't be with me on December the twenty fifth this year. He knows I'll be disappointed but says if I "could just see the grateful smiles on the children's tear-stained faces", I'd understand. And in the words of former seventies pop star and one-time Irish presidential candidate Dana, he says it's going to be a "cold, cold Christmas" without me. Turd! Apparently, there's been a cock-up with the room booking at the Lapland Hilton, so he's had to move into a small igloo just south of the Arctic Circle with one of Santa's helpers, whose name is Sharon. She's sixteen, surprisingly grown-up for her age and it's her job to stuff the turkeys in the Father Christmas canteen. Vince says he'll be staying on for a bit to help her with her work. I think I know what he'll be stuffing this Christmas. When he gets back, I'm going to remove his giblets, replace them with sage and onion and then put him in the oven at one hundred and seventy five degrees Celsius for twenty minutes per pound and twenty minutes over. I wish the drugs would work. I really do...
: Why don't we just accept it's *not* Christmas and do what we normally do? Davina
: No! I absolutely refuse to let Trevor rub himself up against me. Trevor
: Oh, go on! It is Christmas, after all.
: It's burglars! They're after the presents! Hamish
: There *aren't* any presents because we didn't buy any because it's *not* Christmas! Trevor
: So what are they after then? JP
: Perhaps it's him! Davina
: Who? JP
: Father Christmas! Hamish
] Oh, god! Trevor
: Why would Father Christmas want to steal the presents? It makes... No sense! JP
: You're right. It's a mystery wrapped in an enigma hidden in a riddle. Davina
: Whereas *you* are a twat.
: Look, take it easy. First thing's first, we're in a tricky situation and need to take some sort of action. Hamish
: Such as? Trevor
: Well, since this whole Christmas thing was his idea, I suggest we beat the crap out the parrot and then eat him in lieu of Christmas dinner. JP
: Can't you eat someone else? Davina
: I like your idea and yet I feel it is unworkable until such a time as we are no longer fucking well tied together!
] My name is... Hamish. I'm thirty five years old and in less than a week, I'll be dead. In a way, I'm dead already... Look at that poor bastard on the kitchen table, being operated on by an unqualified parrot and a drug dependant cat. Funny thing is, this is the high point of my day... It's all downhill from here... So that's a vacuum cleaner and this is my life. Ha! You'd think I wouldn't miss it so much... JP
: It's hopeless! It's jammed solid! It won't budge! Davina
: What are you going to do, then? JP
: Well, we have a difficult decision to make. Davina
: You mean? JP
: Yes, it's either the patient, or the hoover, I can't save both of them. What will it be? Davina
: We really need that hoover. JP
: Yes, we do! Hamish
] Nice people, eh? Or at least I thought they were, just one short week ago...
: [to Trevor
] Oi, limp dick! You seen my tablets anywhere? Trevor
: No! Hamish
] Oh, this is the cat. She's a Persian blue, but I prefer to think of her as a crazy, psychotic bitch. Trevor
: No, I haven't seen your tablets. Davina
: Are you sure? Because if you have and you're not telling me I'm going to put a skewer through your knob! Trevor
: You're not very good in the mornings, are ya? Davina
: So, have you seen them? Trevor
: A long-term dependence on prescription drugs can actually be more harmful than beneficial, according to a report in my magazine... Davina
: *Really*? I wasn't aware that "Big Lady Flaps Monthly" was a medical publication. Trevor
: I'll have you know, that's a quality read! Davina
: It's a spangle mag! Trevor
: So? Davina
: It's not like it carries any kind of intelligent editorial. Trevor
: Yes, it does. Davina
: Where? In between pictures of "Miss Mega Muff" and "Sally Super Snatch"? Trevor
: Actually, it focuses on a number of important issues. Davina
: What's important about seeing a couple of Readers' Wives being back-scuttled with a cricket stump? Trevor
: Well, it's important to me. Hamish
] Classy people, my friends... Is it any wonder I started to feel... Desperate?
: Did I tell you about the time I went to college? Davina
: *You*? Trevor
: Yeah, me! Davina
: I didn't know you could take an Honours degree in wanking!
: So... You were rescued by animal liberation people? Trevor
: In an almost military-style operation, they effected my escape and took me back to their secret base in the woods. For the next three years, we went on a series of thrilling adventures together. Davina
: What sort of adventures? Trevor
: Well, there was the time we rescued those children from the mine... Davina
: The mine, yes... Trevor
: The day we smashed an international drugs cartel operating out of Colombia... Davina
: Yes... Trevor
: And one memorable weekend where we chaired a secret peace initiative between members of the Israeli government and the Palestine Liberation Organisation. Eventually though, I had to be rescued again. This time, by the RSPCA... Davina
: Why? Trevor
: It was Claire. She started... Touching me... In unusual places... Davina
: Such as? Trevor
: The kitchen, on the landing and in the shed. Davina
: You're making this up, aren't you? Trevor
: Yeah. Davina
: You know, I think you are possibly the most irritating person I have *ever* met! JP
: Hello! Davina
: I stand corrected...
: What are you doing? Trevor
: I've got an itch! Davina
: Hm. Trevor
: I've got an itch and I can't reach it! Driving me fucking mad! Davina
: So? Trevor
: So, do you think you could possibly... Scratch it for me? Davina
: Sod off. Trevor
: What? Davina
: Well, it always starts like this, doesn't it? You start by asking me to scratch your back, then you roll over and ask me to scratch your front. The next thing I know you've got an enormous great purple growler and you start panting like a dog on heat! Trevor
: I *am* a dog on heat! Davina
: Well, I'm not falling for it this time. If you've got an itch, find someone else to scratch it for you. Trevor
: But I've only got short arms... Davina
: Grow your claws! Trevor
: I'll pay you... Davina
: With *what*? Trevor
: Jaffa Cakes? Davina
: If you think I'm going to play with your pink whippet for a bit of chocolate covered sponge with a jammy filling, you're very much mistaken.
: So what do you do if you get fleas? Davina
: I scratch them myself. Trevor
: What about the ones you can't reach? Davina
: There is no part of the body that a cat cannot reach. That's how we keep ourselves so spotlessly clean. We are able to reach every square inch of our skin with our tongues. Trevor
: Now... You know what I'm going to say next, don't you? Davina
] Yes... Trevor
: So there's not actually any need for me to say it, is there? Davina
: No. Trevor
: So you won't scratch me back then? Davina
: No! Trevor
: What's in the bag? Davina
: Fuck off!
: I've had another letter from my boyfriend Vince. All he ever thinks of is pleasure. He stowed away in the lifeboat of a cross-channel ferry last week, now he's down in Cannes trying to sell the film rights to his authorised autobiography. Last time he did this he was away for six and a half months. He came back with a three episode mini series, Elton John's wig and a signed photograph of Liz Hurley squatting in a litter tray. When he gets back this time I'm going to cut him into equal parts and feed him to the rats over a thirteen week period, with an option for a further thirteen parts. Don't talk to me about pleasure! Since Vince buggered off there are very few avenues of pleasure open to me. Even the Prozac on the Kitty Cat doesn't help any more. You know those mobile phones that vibrate? Well, I found one that someone had lost and in desperation I inserted it, long ways, in... You know, my most private place and guess what? It hasn't rung once. Just my luck to find a vibrating phone belonging to someone with no fucking friends!
: I did *not* shag the cat! Trevor
: Well, we'll know for sure in exactly... Three months' time.
[a shot of a calendar flipping from March to June is shown
: [to Trevor
] I *knew* you were lying! Davina
: I have a strange craving for coal-flavoured cat food. Hamish
: Oh, fuck!
: So... What's it like being pregnant? Davina
: Have you ever had a selection of plastic Pokémon toys stuffed up your arse? JP
: Well... Since you mentioned it... Davina
: Okay! Bad example! But I mean that's what it's like being pregnant. It's uncomfortable, it's tiring... And worst of all your tits hurt like a bastard! JP
: Would that be a permanent pain... Or more of an intermittent throbbing? Perhaps if I were to rub them gently that might help? Because it would certainly help me! Davina
: Why are you so weird? JP
: Have you got a nest yet?
: What the *fuck* is all this noise? It's putting me off my Prozac! Hamish
: Ah, you need fear for your kittens no longer, Trevor has just agreed to marry you and bring them up with you. Davina
: You what? Hamish
: Don't worry, you'll get used to his funny little ways in time... The smell I'm not so sure about... Davina
: I don't know *what* you're talking about, but it's too late anyway... Hamish
: Too late? Davina
: Yes... The little bastards arrived half an hour ago and I flushed them down the toilet... I'd give it five minutes before you go in there... Hamish
: You? You? You? Davina
: Well, I wasn't really cut out for motherhood. Anyway, now that I've got my figure and my life back, what does everyone fancy doing? Trevor
: I suppose a shag's out of the question?
: Hello. Can I have a word? Davina
: You can have two words, if you like; fuck off! Trevor
: I was wondering if we could have a little... Chat? Davina
] Does it in any way involve your grubby little knob? Trevor
: No? Davina
: Are you sure? Because if it comes anywhere near me during the course of our conversation I'm going to cut it off at the root and gouge out your eyes with it! Trevor
: Maybe I'll come back later... Davina
: What do you want? Trevor
: Well, it would appear by some bizarre sequence of events, Hamish has been elected as the new head of one of the Mafia's most powerful crime families. Davina
: So what do you want me to do about it? Send him a congratulations card?
: I've had another letter from my boyfriend Vince. He says he's doing voluntary work on behalf of UNICEF in West Africa and won't be back until after the rainy season. Which, apparently, is why he can't take me out for a curry on our anniversary next Tuesday. He's sent me a photo of himself and some *slag* called Samantha, who he says is assisting him in vaccinating the entire population of a remote tribal village. I think I know how Samantha is assisting him and it doesn't involve sticking needles in people's arses. Then again... Maybe it does. When he comes back, I'm gonna cut off his head, hollow it out and use it as a toilet roll holder!
: What's the matter with you? Trevor
: Promise you won't laugh? Davina
: I promise I won't laugh. Trevor
: I got me growler caught on the top of a Winnie the Pooh hot water bottle.
: You didn't laugh? Davina
: That's because it isn't funny! When are you going to learn that spangling off over licensed products is the first rung on the slippery ladder to insanity! Look at the trouble we had extracting your bollocks from the screw top of that Teletubbies Thermos flask... And you had that Pokémon sweets dispenser up your arse for a fortnight! Hamish
: What's wrong with him now? Davina
: He's been banging one of your hot water bottles again and his knob's stuck fast! Hamish
: [to Trevor
] You bastard! Not my Star Trek: The Next Generation hot water bottle? Trevor
: Nope. Hamish
: Surely not my priceless limited edition seventies reproduction Starsky and Hutch? Trevor
: Nah. Hamish
: My god! You've been porking Winnie the Pooh! Davina
: And Eeyore too, by the look of it. Hamish
: [to Trevor
] Have you no shame? Is there no inhabitant of the Hundred Acre Wood that you would not consider violating? Can Christopher Robin and Piglet not sleep easy in their little beds? Davina
: Seems to me it *might* come loose if we could just get Trevor's pink whippet to shrink in size... Hamish
: And how do we do that? Davina
: [to Trevor
] Try thinking about your mother. Trevor
: As a matter of fact, my mother was a very fine-looking animal... Hamish
: Oh, I think I'm going to be sick! Davina
: Other ideas? Hamish
: [to Trevor
] Well, just try focusing on *any* living creature or inanimate object with whom you *cannot* imagine having full intercourse. Trevor
: Nope... Can't think of one!
: I've just had a long and emotional telephone call with my boyfriend Vince. He was press-ganged by the Peruvian Navy a couple of months ago, but he managed to jump overboard during a perfect storm off the coast of Uruguay. Now he's living with a tribe of genetically mutated pygmies in the Amazonian jungle. Some of them are over nine feet tall and they apparently treat flea-bitten tomcats like Vince as deities. Last time this happened, he came back with four foot long earlobes, a pierced scrotum and a bottom lip the size of the Hollywood Bowl! When he comes home this time, I'm going to heat up some water in a saucepan and boil the bastard in a bag. The drugs don't work, you know. They just make you worse.
: Bastards! You utter bastards! Davina
: Oi, fuckstick! Keep the noise down! Have you any idea what time it is? Hamish
: All right, I get it! Trevor
: What? Hamish
: I get it! I know you're having a party in here! Trevor
: A party? Hamish
: Yes! You're having a party and you didn't invite me! JP
: No, we're not! It's a discussion group! An interactive workshop event, if you will. Hamish
: At four o' fucking clock in the morning? Trevor
: We like to get an early start. Hamish
: I see... And what prey are you discussing? JP
: Today's topic is "Self-Abuse: Is It a Sight for Sore Eyes?" Hamish
: You're lying! Trevor
: No, we're not. I have here a selection of educational texts, which clearly define the link between blindness and pulling your pug. Hamish
: They're wank mags! Trevor
: Maybe so, but if you look on page three of the current edition of The Rimshot, you'll be surprised by what you see. Hamish
: It's a picture of a traffic warden and a rather tired donkey... Trevor
: No, below that. "Readers' Wives Respond to Polling". Hamish
: You're still lying, you bastards! You're having a party! JP
: No, I think what we have here is a very serious question of moral ethics. Hamish
: What we have here is a serious question of why you *cunts* are having a party at four o'clock in the fucking morning! Davina
: If you wish to join the debate, we will have to ask you to moderate your language... You tosser! Do you *have* anything to contribute on the subject of wanking? I imagine you *do*!
: I've had another letter from my boyfriend Vince. At least... I think it's Vince, because the stupid *fucker* appears to have changed his name, to "DJ Hip-Hop Cowboy Grandmaster Mix Man Iced Tea Cube M&S. Wanker! Apparently, he's bought a field, in the middle of absolutely nowhere... Not far from Cardiff... And a lorry-load of cut-price, slightly contaminated bottled water. He says he's going to start a "really wicked club" for hard-core music fans and it's going to be really "word"! Big respect! When he gets back, I'm going to remix his 12-inch once and for all! The drugs don't work, you know... They just make you fucking *cranky*!
: I've had a postcard from my boyfriend Vince... That *is* a miracle! He smuggled himself onto one of the trains going through the Channel Tunnel a few days ago. Now he's living as a Trappist monk in a spartan monastery just outside Valletta on the island of Malta. Last time he did this, he was away for twelve years. He came back with a bald patch shaved in the middle of his back and he refused to speak for six months, except to ask for the occasional back rub... Or a wank. When Vince comes back this time, I'm going to nail him to a cross and prop him up outside Tescos in Cricklewood Broadway. They drugs don't work, you know. They just make you worse.