And now another winking at a van. And soon all go; “Look, here comes the prating gravy-muncher. See him scold his shadow, aha, raise his hat to lamp-posts.” And out you run to argue with a bus, and now you flying truly thwack-to-bones, and no no no no padding.
And when you wake to find you sat at tiny desk, scribbing scratchhead maths, while kiddies peek around the door with giggles, pointing, “There’s the funny man.” And now here comes the teacher with the cops.
Then welcome. Mmmmm, package holiday welcome in Blue Jam, Blue Jam,
Blue Jam, Blue Jammmmmmmm.
Man: “Yeah, on tip-toe, me arse up like this...Aaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!”
Woman: “And he says he’s bleeding, and I say; “Oh my God, we’d better have a look.” And he takes his trousers off to show me, and by then, I’m very ready, you know, aching for a fuck.”
Man: “Uuuurrrrrherherherherherher!”
Mary Ann Hobbes
Here she comes, being wheeled on a trolley/
Mary Ann Hobbes, being wheeled on a trolley/
Every corner of her great big head/
Supported by a wooden buttress/
And when she smiles it looks like an exploded pig/
All the children run screaming from the park/
The air is full of bawling/
Please cover her up with a tarpaulin.
Interviewer: “How old was he?”
1st Woman: “He was three and a half.”
1st Man: “The playgroup ‘phoned up and said they’d found her eating a dead bird.”
2nd Woman: “All feathers in her mouth.”
1st Man: “Honking like a pig.”
2nd Woman: “We never taught her that.”
2nd Man: “Well, the competition to get our child into the best school in the area is so intense that, um, we have to use whatever methods we can.”
3rd Woman: “Mmmmm”
2nd Man: “To ensure our child’s success. And one way of doing that is to rubbish the opposition, and there are various techniques that we use to do this. (Voice over continues over telephone conversation) Ummm, we spread rumours about the other children in the local newspapers.”
3rd Woman: “Hello, I’m just a bit worried about a little boy that lives
on Firth street. Andrew Pierce. Well, we’re a bit concerned
because we saw him incinerating a live crow. It could have been a
squirrel, it was a bit charred. I think I’ve seen him driving
a car as well. He’s three, I think. I have got some pictures,
actually. My husband has a lens.”
2nd Man (voice over): “Well, you know, we do things like get them drunk,
which is quite easy.”
FX: SHOP DOOR OPENS. SOUND OF TRAFFIC OUTSIDE
[Daniel ENTERS]
Marina: “Hello Daniel!”
Daniel: “Hello Marina.”
Marina: “Oh, my God! What’s happened?”
Daniel: “I’ve brought Marcus home.”
Marcus: “Uhhhh”
Marina: “Marcus?”
Daniel: “Yeah, I found him out on the green. I think he’s drunk.”
Marina: “Drunk?”
Daniel: “Yeah.”
Marina: “Oh, my God. Marcus?”
Daniel: “He’s passed out.”
3rd Man ENTERS
3rd Man : “Who is it?”
Marina: “It’s Daniel. He’s brought Marcus. He’s drunk!”
Daniel: “There were three or four empty beer cans with him.”
3rd Man: “What on Earth’s going on?”
Marina: “Marcus?”
Marcus: “Uhhhhh”
Marina: “Marcus!”
3rd Man: “He stinks of beer!”
Daniel: “Oh, by the way, he had these as well. There’s a couple of half-smoked ones in there.”
Marina: “Oh, my God.”
Daniel: “Right, well, um, if there’s anything I can do...”
3rd Man: “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
Marina: “Thanks very much”
Daniel: “You know my number, don’t you?”
Marina: “Thank you. Shit.”
[Daniel EXITS]
Daniel (Voice Over): “Some of them are very simple, like, er, put on a T-shirt with a obscene slogan”
3rd Woman: “Mmmmm.”
Daniel: “And just push them through the gates of the school that they are trying to get into, and of the course the school then rings up the parents, when they find out who the parents are, and, er, that ruins their chances.”
3rd Woman: “Mmmmmm.”
3rd Woman: Here we are then, Billy, want to see the nice pig?”
3rd Woman (Voice Over): “One little girl, um, every time she came round, we would just lock her in the shed with a pig.”
FX: GATE SLAMS. SQUEALING PIG AND CHILD
Daniel : “Yeah. Of course, it would be nice if we didn’t have to do this, but it does work, and I like to think that we are pretty good at it.”
3rd Woman: “Now you know what you’ve got to say? More porn now.”
Child: “More porn now!”
3rd Woman: “Good!”
Daniel: “I don’t think that we are going to have any trouble with Andy’s boy.”
3rd Woman: “No. (To child) Now say “Hug a bomb”!”
Child: “Hug a bomb!”
3rd Woman: “Good boy!”
Two days passed in very similar fashion. I told Suzie I must be a writer, because I had writer’s blank. She said that this was balls, and told me to get out and eat some sausages. “It’s Thursday now, so you’ll have to eat them all today.” By ten am, I had scoffed fourteen. The more I ate, the less I felt like walking, so the last six had come from the same wagon. The vendor kept peering at me as I sat and wrote. When I went to but number fifteen, he said; “I’m telling Turkish Bob about you. He don’t like people getting nosy on his meat.”
Sixteen sausages later, I’d had an extra one to impress Vone, I was prodding at a shop demo laptop in Dixon’s. I detailed my test method feeling bloated and toxic. The nausea thickened, as I realised that I had no way of telling which sausage was responsible for what level of sickness. “May I ask what you’re doing?” It was a woman’s voice. “Do I know you?” I said. “Not exactly,” she laughed, “but you are no doubt experiencing that strange frisson of talking to someone who seems familiar because you know them so well from their photos, isn’t it a weird feeling?”
“What photos?”
“Oh, come on, look.” and rested her chin on the back of her hand, glanced to the left and sucked in her cheeks. “What’s that?” I said. “O honestly, why do you think that everybody is looking at me?” “Well because you’re making quite a noi-“ My -se was cut off by the bec- of her because.
“Because I’m Ruby Fuss. I write on a Friday, and I couldn’t help noticing that you are writing a story on that computer.” I started to explain. “Hang on,” she said, and dug a tape recorder out of her bag. “I haven’t had a decent story since Bolan died.” She told me Bolan was her terminally ill dog, and that she’d charted his death every week for four months, and that all London was weeping. “God, it’s been pants getting stuff for the column. I was going to have to get myself drug-raped for this week.” she said, brandishing a jar of tablets. She gave me one, and started asking questions. No one has been that interested in me since school, when I nailed my hand to my head. As we talked of salty meat and Turkish Bob, I began to sweat and dribble. The shop became a giddy plughole of plastic, price-cards and a father and child asking if I had finished with the laptop. I opened my mouth to answer, but words don’t really form in a boiling geyser of pork. Ruby Fuss said, “Perfect.”
In a phonebox twenty four hours later, pale and shaking, I told Vone I had my piece on a disk. “I’ve called it De Botulis Calides, and it takes it’s form from a scientific paper. Shall I bring it round?” Vone explained that my piece had been reprioritised, since Ruby Fuss had come up with something similar, that not only mentioned sausages, but a guy writing about them on a shop computer, and then puking on a kid. Altogether a much better framing than mine.
“That was me.” I said.
“Well, we don’t want the same piece twice.”
“But I was commissioned.”
“Grow up,” he said, “I’m ripping you off.”
Then he asked me how I felt. Then he said he’d just decided to
write a piece about the abuse of freelance writers, and could he use my
story, since it would really illustrate the point. “But I was sick
about ten times.” I said. I could hear him already tapping on the
keyboard. Then I could hear him ask me to send in my disk anyway,
as a perfect verite example of the sort of work that was being ripped off.
“I’ve got no money.” I said. We agreed on a price of ten pounds.
The girl at reception had a message from Vone. Look up, it said.
I looked up. A camera went flash. “He says your photo will
add genuine pathos,” said the photographer, “and I agree.”
Both articles appeared the next day. Both stated that ninety-eight
percent of street sausages contained lethal microbes and fly eggs, and
mentioned in passing that Turkish Bob was a bastard. Four days later
he found me, and pulped me with a griddle.
It had the rough form of a baby, and a kind of a face, albeit scrawled out in magic marker and gashes, but it had no bones at all. Turned out he’d large slices of fat removed from his body and bundled up into some loose skin stitched into the approximate shape of a baby and told himself he was now a daddy.
That was six months ago. Of course, no one speaks to him now,
but he still carries that thing around with him. I saw him try to
feed it some banana, pressing the soft fruit into the chaos of desiccated
human hide and sticky lipid. He’s developed a whole host of nervous
tics. I reckon you could hear them out of here. Sure won’t
be long for him.
Jason Murray: “Morning.”
Doctor: “Ah, yes, have a seat. Jason Murray, isn’t it?”
Jason Murray: “That’s right, yes.”
Doctor: “Do you know I banged you mother in here once?”
Jason Murray: “...uhh...”
Doctor: “Ages ago. Up the arse. How is her arse?”
Jason Murray: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Doctor: “When she brought you in with measles. You were about um, five, no?”
Jason Murray: “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Doctor: “I’m pretty sure it was your Mum. Now, what seems to be the trouble?”
Jason Murray: “Well, I’ve come in about a rash on my stomach.”
Doctor: “Wonderful white arse, smacking all round the ball area,”
Jason Murray: ”Doctor, can-:
Doctor: “hot, pink socket of bliss.”
Jason Murray: “Doc-“
Doctor: “Now, let’s see the stomach. Hmmm, you’ve got your mother’s stomach, sort of, yeah. I can definitely see your mother’s stomach in yours. Not quite as nice, if that’s not too rude. Yes, probably got tainted by your dad’s didn’t it, unpleasant little shit, your dad, hmmm?”
Jason Murray: “Well, no, actually, can you shut up talking-“
Doctor: “Well, I think he is. He’s probably completely bald now, isn’t he? God, that wouldn’t suit him, ugly fucker.”
Jason Murray: “He’s dead.”
Doctor: “Oh, no I don’t think so.”
Jason Murray: “My father is dead.”
Doctor: “No, I don’t remember doing the certificate.”
Jason Murray: “It was another doctor.”
Doctor: “Well, if I didn’t do it, you can pretty much forget it as a diagnosis.”
Jason Murray: “Look-“
Doctor: “If you dig him up, you’ll probably find scratch marks inside the coffin lid.”
Jason Murray: “He was cremated.”
Doctor: “God! Didn’t you wonder what all the screaming was about?”
Jason Murray: “There wasn’t any screaming!”
Doctor: “A guy burns his dad alive and pretends that he can’t hear the screaming.”
Jason Murray: “Can I be seen by another doctor, please?”
Doctor: “Oh, that won’t do you much good, they’re all wankers in this place.”
Jason Murray: “I find this conversation very uncomfortable, so I’d like to-“
Doctor: “Well, don’t worry, it won’t last all day. The good news is that there is nothing wrong with your stomach.”
Jason Murray: “What do you mean? It’s covered in a bloody rash, look.”
Doctor: “Oh no, that’s just a bit red, that’s all.”
Jason Murray: “Well, it’s extremely painful, actually.”
Doctor: “Oh, come on.”
Jason Murray: “it’s stopping me sleeping, so-“
Doctor: “I’m surprised the suppressed memory of your dad’s burning screams isn’t stopping you sleeping.”
Jason Murray: “What?”
Doctor: “Cream or pill?”
Jason Murray: “Sorry?”
Doctor: “Cream or pill? For your rash.”
Jason Murray: “Oh, um, both please.”
Doctor: “Yeah, both. Typical. I might have guessed. OK, there you are (hands prescription over).”
Jason Murray: “Thanks.”
Doctor: “And do try and get a look at your mum’s arse.”
Jason Murray: “I’m going to have to report this, Doctor.”
Doctor: “Oh, don’t do that. Find your mum’s arse, stare at it, and let your mind take it back twenty years, smoothing out the divots and creases.”
Jason Murray: “Doctor, I really would appreciate it-“
Doctor: “Hang on, I haven’t finished. Picture it aged twenty-five,
and I’ll give you a tenner if you don’t get a significant
genital firming.”
Jason Murray: “This is fucking outrageous!”
Doctor: “Oh, alright, off you go, but you don’t know what you’re missing.”
[Jason Murray EXITS]
Doctor (SHOUTS): “If you change your mind, bring me a photo!”
[Jason Murray ENTERS]
Jason Murray: “Doctor?”
Doctor: “Yes?”
Jason Murray: “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Doctor: “Hmmmm. Anything wrong with that?”
Jason Murray: “Yes, there is, actually.”
Doctor: “Do you want to smack me?”
Jason Murray: “Sorry?”
Doctor: “Do you want to smack me for being a bad boy?”
[Jason Murray EXITS]
Mr Barfield: “Hello?”
Bruno: “Mr. Barfield?”
Mr. Barfield: “Yes?”
Bruno: “Good evening, Mr. Barfield.”
Mr. Barfield: “Who is this?”
Bruno: “Mr. Barfield.”
Mr. Barfield: “Who is this?”
Bruno: “Bruno Short.”
Mr. Barfield: “Yes, Bruno. Can I help?”
Bruno: “I’ve murdered your daughter, Mr, Barfield.”
Mr. Barfield: “For God’s sake, Bruno, when’s this going to stop?”
Bruno: “She’s floating in the gravel pit.”
Mr. Barfield: “Bruno, you know, this is hardly original?”
Bruno: “I strangled her, and I enjoyed it.”
Mr. Barfield: “Yes, that’s very good. Is that it?”
Bruno: “I laughed at the hissy noise she made.”
Mr. Barfield: “Oh, give it up, mate, you’re not impressing anybody.”
Bruno: “Oh, but I did laugh. I’m evil, Mr. Barfield.”
Mr. Barfield: “Bruno, I’m sure you are, and I’m very impressed that
I’m going to have to fish my daughter out of the
gravel pit and that you did it. Well done, Bruno. But frankly,
your dad was much better at this kind of thing than you are.”
Bruno: “What?”
Mr. Barfield: “I know you hacked off Mr. Wright’s head, but your dad used to feed people to their own dogs, film it and play it to their families and then shoot them afterwards.”
Bruno: “Shut up.”
Mr. Barfield: “Now that is a blaze of mayhem, but strangling my daughter, it’s just pathetic.”
Bruno: “Piss off.”
Mr. Barfield: “I mean, you laughed?”
Bruno: “Look, people get a bit hung up, just because they know about
my dad, and they forget that I, I am really evil,
and if I wasn’t his son, they’d definitely have locked me up by now.
But as it is, they are just treating me like a wanker.”
Mr. Barfield: “You don’t say?”
Bruno: “Fuck off”
Mr. Barfield: “Have you finished?”
Bruno: “Yes, I guess so.”
Mr. Barfield: “Well, you could at least offer to help us get her out.”
Bruno: “Oh, yeah, sorry. Hang on, I bloody murdered her, I’m not helping!”
Mr. Barfield: “Bruno!”
Bruno: “Oh, alright!”
Mr. Barfield: “Right, I’ll see you there in half an hour.”
Bruno: “Yeah.”
[MR. BARFIELD HANGS UP]
Bruno: “Fucking hell! Why don’t you people just leave me alone?”
1st patient: “No”
Woman: “Right. What we’re basically doing is filling up your blood system with urine.”
1st patient: “Right.”
Woman (Voice Over): “It’s very much a place for people to relax and
benefit from the therapeutic effects of our
treatments.”
Woman: “It’s about thirty percent urine.”
1st patient: “Yeah.”
Woman: “While you slowly work the piss off. Now, have you brought your own piss?”
1st patient: “Ummm, no.”
Woman: “Right. Well, we’ll be starting you off on some of my piss, ok?”
1st patient: “Yeah.”
Woman: “It’s a good starting piss.”
1st patient: “Right.”
Woman (Voice Over): “I came up with the whole idea after watching a Molerats program on TV. They were urinating a lot and I just thought, ‘Urine, that’d probably help.’
[1st patient gasps in pain]
Woman (Voice Over): “The initial feeling of being transfused with urine is a combination of euphoria and extreme pain.”
1st patient (in extreme pain): “It’s about the worst part of the treatment
now. My muscles are in spasm...”
Woman (Voice over): “The piss talk sessions are very popular.”
Lawrence (in extreme pain): “Can you stop the pain?”
Woman: “Right. First of all, Lawrence, I wanted to ask you about work. Any problems at work?”
Lawrence (in extreme pain): “Please, please stop it.”
Woman: “Do you have a low self-esteem? Hmmm?”
Lawrence: “Please!”
Woman (Voice over): “There are physical activities. You’re not
very co-ordinated, but if you’re determined, you can
crash about a bit with help.”
Woman: “Let’s have you stumble around for a bit”
2nd patient (crashes around the room, bumping into furniture): “Ahhhh!”
Woman: “Can you get any further? That’s good.”
3rd patient: “She certainly pushes you around, so I hope it’s doing some good. Maybe it’s too early to tell.”
4th patient (in extreme pain): “The back of my eyes! The back of my eyes!”
4th patient (voice over, in extreme pain): “I think I’m gaining a sort
of insight into myself. The sort that most people
wouldn’t get in a million years, actually. But the main reason,
obviously, is for the cancer.”
Woman: “I wouldn’t try it out on myself, no! I might smear a little bit on myself, umm, but, er, a transfusion? Ah, no!”
4th patient: “Please! Please!”
[Patient ENTERS]
Doctor: “Ah, yes. Could you go out again and come in properly?”
Patient: “Sorry?”
Doctor: “Er, go out again and come in properly.”
Patient: “Oh, er...”
Doctor: “Go outside, count five, and then come back in.”
Patient: “Right.”
[Patient EXITS]
[Doctor HIDES IN CUPBOARD]
[Patient ENTERS]
Patient: “Doctor? Hello? Doctor Perlin? Doctor? Oh.”
[Patient EXITS]
[Doctor makes a sound between laughing and crying.]
Listener: “Yeah!”
2nd Narrator: “They live on fish, and catch them by diving on them from a great height.”
FX BODY SPLASHING INTO WATER
3rd Narrator: “Deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper and deeper.”
2nd Narrator: “Gliding down through the dark green water. He can breathe underwater because he has amphibious nostrils.”
4th Narrator: “On the way down, he passed hundreds of trout of different sizes. Trout are freshwater fish and have underwater weapons.”
FX RAPIDLY FIRING PULSED ENERGY WEAPONS
5th Narrator: “Don’t you go too near them!”
4th Narrator: “Trout are very valuable and immensely powerful. Keep away from the trout!”
6th Narrator: “Why should it be/ that the fish in the sea/ are all unable to sing?”
7th Narrator: “Just listen to me young fellow/ what need is there for
fish to sing/ when I can roar and bellow?”
And now another winking at a van. And soon all go; “Look, here comes the prating gravy-muncher. See him scold his shadow, aha, raise his hat to lamp-posts.” And out you run to argue with a bus, and now you flying truly thwack-to-bones, and no no no no padding.
And when you wake to find you sat at tiny desk, scribbing scratchhead maths, while kiddies peek around the door with giggles, pointing, “There’s the funny man.” And now here comes the teacher with the cops.
Then welcome. Mmmmm, package holiday welcome in Blue Jam, Blue Jam,
Blue Jam, Blue Jammmmmmmm.
Father: “Hello? Hello? You still there?”
Son: “Yes.”
Father: “Why don’t you come home, son?”
Son: “I don’t want to.”
Father: “Daddy loves you. You know we miss you, don’t you?”
Son: “I don’t care.”
Father: “Come home son. Go out for a drink and we can have a chat about it.”
Son: “No!”
Father: “Mum’s made a lovely stew.”
Son: “I’m sorry Dad, I can’t.”
Father: “Come on home, and then we can have a talk about it.”
Son: “I’ve made my mind up.”
Father: “Don’t do this, Jamie. Your Daddy loves you.”
Son: “Bye, Dad.”
Father: “Daddy loves you, Jamie.”
Son: “Bye-bye.”
FX RECEIVER REPLACED ON TELEPHONE
Father: “Jamie? Jamie? He’s gone.”
Cast: Chris Morris, David Cann, Amelia Bullmore, Julia Davis, Mark Heap, Kevin Eldon & Sally Phillips.
Produced by Chris Morris
Blue Jam © BBC 1999
Transcribed by Stephen Lafferty
Mandelsoned by Matt Honeyball