Original subtitles

"Something was pouring from his mouth.

He examined his sleeve. Blood?

Blood. Crimson, copper-smelling blood.

His blood. Blood.

Blood. Blood.

And bits of sick."

Greetings, traveller.

I'm Garth Marenghi, horror writer.

Most of you will probably know me already from my extensive canon of chillers,

including 'Afterbirth', in which a mutated placenta attacks Bristol.

Back in the 1980s, I wrote,

directed and starred in 'Garth Marenghi's Darkplace',

a television programme so radical, so risky,

so dangerous, so goddamn crazy,

that the so-called "powers that be" became too scared to show it

and gipped me, much in the same way that women have done

ever since they sniffed out my money.

Only now in the worst artistic drought in broadcast history,

does the channel come crawling back,

cap in hand and suitably ashamed,

asking if your humble fabullist

could once more retrieve 'Darkplace' from the boxes in his spacious basement

and let it loose on its unsuspecting public.

That's you!

Naturellement, I relented

and spent over three hours of my life knocking together

some interviews with the key players in this historic programme,

namely myself and my publisher, Dean Learner.

So, finally, here is 'Darkplace',

for the first time on British television,

it had a brief run in Peru.

Sit back, dim the lights, or switch them off if you don't have dimmers,

put conventional logic to one side, and enjoy.

Well, I say enjoy.

I'm Garth Marenghi,

author, dreamweaver, visionary, plus actor.

You are about to enter the world of my imagination.

You are entering my Darkplace.

Just leave!

Funny, that cat just told me to leave.

Hi. I've come to apply for the doctor's job.

I can assure you, my credentials are top notch.

I've just graduated from Harvard College, Yale.

I aced every semester and I got an A.

Well, that sounds excellent.

Our last doctor only just recently died

in horrific circumstances. Can you start immediately?

Sure, do I have time to go to the toilet?

Not really, I've already paged Dr. Sanchez

who should be here any minute now.

I'm Dr. Sanchez. You're a woman.

Yes, I hope that's not a problem.

Not at all, there's plenty of skirt on the ward.

This is the 20th century after all,

though some don't like to admit it.

Welcome to Darkplace, Liz.

My hand!

Whoa, are you alright?

Not really.

I'm one of the few people you'll meet

who've written more books than they've read.

I felt I'd taken the novel as far as it could go.

I guess it was inevitable that my imagination would make the move to television.

I got a script, read it,

scared me senseless, comme d'habitute,

and I said to Garth, I looked straight into his face...

I've never been afraid of holding a man's gaze, it's natural.

...I said, this is going to be the most significant

televisual event since 'Quantum Leap'.

And I do not say that lightly.

My name is Dr. Rick Dagless M.D.

I got the call too early to grab a shower

so I had to make do with a quick rinse round the key areas.

Some little Missy had taken a nosedive in reception

so muggins was meant to haul ass down there and kiss it better.

But first I had to visit a very special friend.

Is my daddy gonna be alright?

Your daddy is very sick, champ.

Is he going to die?

We're doing all we can

but I'm not Jesus Christ. I've come to accept that now.

I've got to get this.

Son of a bitch!

That's my boss. I've gotta go.

They work you too hard here.

They should pay you a hero's wage.

You're a good kid.

And you're a great doctor.

Never take drugs!

Dean's not an actor.

I warned Garth. I said, I'm not an actor.

And he said, I'll always remember this,

that he didn't want an act, he wanted the truth.

So here is Dean Learner,

playing Thornton Reed,

not putting on an act but putting on the truth.

Listen up, ladies, we've got a situation.

A little lass has just cracked her nut

and if she croaks, my arse is grass.

That was Thornton Reed, my boss.

Head of the department. A ball buster.

But then, he had to answer to Won Ton.

She's here on the express say-so of Won Ton.

A star pupil you might say,

and one that Darkplace has high hopes for.

So far we've given her some Lucozade and that's helped,

but she says she's having visions. Blood, guts, a real horror show.

That's Dr. Lucien Sanchez. Hotshot surgeon.

He's a good buddy, though we sometimes have punch-ups.

Is that why you called me in? As far as I can tell,

some dame's just banged her bonce. Qu'est-ce que le diff?

Wait, I have more things to say.

Go on. Sorry for the interruption.

Don't mention it.

She's saying there's something supernatural going on.

It's witchy woman witterin' and it wants snuffin' out at the wick.

This is a place of science after all.

I need panic in the wards like I need a hole in the head.

Something supernatural, you say? Sounds bang up your alley, Dag.

Aren't you an expert in the arcane and black arts?

That was a long time ago, Sanch. Got my fingers burnt.

Well, you can count me out, Reed,

it's all voodoo nonsense as far as this cat's concerned.

Fair enough. You take the reins on this one, Dag.

But make sure your methods are orthodox.

Don't worry, Reed. This sounds routine.

I'm sure nothing untoward will happen.

I hope he heeds my words about dealing with this in an orthodox manner.

He will. He's the best damn doctor on the wing, or on any other wing.

- He's a wild card. - But I'm glad he's in our deck.

- Let's hope he plays a fair hand. - He'll come up trumps.

If it's not a joker in the pack. And sometimes there is.

Jim?

Can you get 2ccs of 0.2% saline chloroxicide into bed 33?

Then I need Neurology to get their butts in gear with that cardiogram.

Tell them the endotrachial ring is clogged.

Come on, let's move it, people.

- Dr. Liz Asher? - Dr. Rick Dagless M.D.

- You've heard of me? - Who in the field of medicine hasn't?

Well, you shouldn't believe everything you read in the medical magazines.

Welcome to Darkplace. I've seen more auspicious starts.

I wasn't planning on falling on my fanny, Dr. Dagless.

I had a vision. I'm a psychic.

- And I'm Bo Derek. - No, you're not.

You're right, I'm not.

I guess I use sarcasm as a defence.

- I see the past, the present and the future. - Tough gig.

Stop being sarcastic.

Maybe if everyone who'd ever been close to you had died,

you'd be sarcastic, too.

Yes. That makes sense.

Come on, I'll lend you money for a coffee.

We ended up going to the staffroom.

There's access to a clean sofa and the coffee's complimentary.

Sanchez, my buddy, joined us.

When he heard what Liz had to say, he nearly split a log.

Slops!

So let me get this straight. When you crushed my hand

you had a vision that something terrible has either happened,

is happening, or will happen to a patient in Darkplace.

That's about the size of it in a nutshell.

Well, have you got a name or a room number?

Room 213.

That's where Renwick is.

Who's Renwick?

Err, no one. Forget it.

I know you're lying to me, protecting me.

But I'm a big girl now.

In a year's time I'll be a woman. Come on, who's Renwick, Rick?

- I don't know what you're talking about. - Yes, you do.

You're right. I do.

Larry Renwick was admitted here last week.

The guy went axe happy on a trout farm.

He killed 60 fish.

- You knew him, didn't you? - You really are psychic.

Yes. Watch this.

Impressive, but don't do that on the ward.

So what happened between you and this Renwick customer?

Larry was a colleague of mine when I first started here at Darkplace.

God, he was brainy. And brave.

Saved my life once.

I saved his life twice so I was one up.

We made a pact to push each other's minds to the limit.

And beyond.

Naturally, we both became fascinated with the occult.

One night, Larry suggested we try and open the gates of hell

right here in the canteen.

I pleaded with him. I said, "No. Don't."

But he insisted.

That night, we performed the rite and opened the gate.

Halfway through, I went to the kitchen to fix us both a coke float

but by the time I got back he'd gone insane.

Plus he'd left the gate open and there was evil everywhere.

I need to grab a shower.

I re-closed the Gates of Hell as soon as I could

but Darkplace has never been the same since.

And with Larry back it feels like the gates could re-open any second

and that's the last thing I need.

You're overworked as it is.

Tell me about it, it'd be a total hassle.

Look, I'll help you. I'm free most Tuesdays

and my doctor's contract hasn't officially started yet.

This ain't orthodox, Liz.

- Since when were you orthodox, Rick? - True.

- Please. - Alright.

I'll pay you, though. It'll make it bona fide

and you could probably use the extra pocket money for clothes and make up.

- Thanks, Rick. I won't let you down. - OK.

Well, what would help me most right now

is if you could whack a brillo round this mug,

otherwise it'll stain.

Sanch, I suggest you and I pay Larry a visit

before it's too late.

Cos it's 8:00pm now.

This is it.

- You and he were buddies, weren't you? - Once.

Listen, when I first joined this hospital I was strictly solo.

You were the first real buddy I ever had.

But if you and he wish to be best buddies again,

I won't stand in your way.

I've got a best buddy, Sanch.

But some shit sticks no matter how hard you scrape.

Hang back.

You got it.

Larry?

Are you alright?

I think I'm gonna die.

No, you're not. You're gonna make it. I'll get help.

Nurse!

First things first, I've got to stop you bleeding.

Rick. I beg ya...

Kill me.

Oh Jesus, Larry, don't do this to me.

I beg ya.

It really hurts.

I beg ya.

Forgive me!

Bye-bye, buddy.

I'll get a mop.

I have never exploded

but I know what it would be like.

Don't ask me how, I just know.

I've always just known.

I don't know whether someone close to Garth had exploded.

Whether it was a a colleague or a pet.

But you could tell that scene meant a lot to him. There were tears on set.

Not from Garth, he was strong for the crew.

But I wept, I'm not ashamed of that.

It's, I suppose, one of the many burdens

he has to bear

as an artist in bringing us this gift.

Thanks for explaining the situation.

I'm gonna give him the rollicking of his life.

You used this to treat him? Where the hell did you train?

I didn't want use that thing. Larry was my friend.

If that's how you treat your friends,

imagine how you treat your enemies. Worse, I expect.

He's right, Dag. What went on in there wasn't by the book.

Reed did specifically tell you to be orthodox.

Et tu, Sanché. I thought we were buddies.

- You're squabbling over this like dogs with meat. - I agree.

Listen, this ain't another exploding patient

you can sweep under your rug.

Now Renwick was a gateway to another dimension.

When he exploded that gateway opened.

We must shut it again as soon as possible.

What? Am I holding a crock of shit?

Tell me something, is this hospital called St. Crock of Shit?

Alright, Alright. Calm down, calm down.

Emotions are running high. What do you suggest, Dag?

Well, we can start by burning what's left of the body.

Get lost.

Cool it, Sanch, or you'll get a knuckle supper.

Look, Dagless. You're an excellent doctor

but you're also a live-wire maverick,

who when he's not bucking the system,

is biting the hand that feeds.

Which, in your case, is this hand.

I'm not about to tell the immediate family of the deceased

that we're gonna have to burn what remains of his body

in order to close a portal to another dimension. I just won't do it.

This hospital's got a reputation, which I intend to keep.

I've yet to see any demons on the ward. And I'm particularly observant.

So go back to your lab and make me a pill that can cure madness

or I'll kick your ass so hard you'll be able to build a pool in the footprint.

- Understood? - As crystal.

But if the gates of hell do re-open,

don't say I didn't specifically warn you

because I just have and that means you'd be lying.

I went for a drive to clear my head,

which is why I'm now in the car.

I kept thinking about Larry

and how inconvenient his blowing up had been.

Maybe the gates to hell had closed once and for all.

Maybe they hadn't.

It was a double-edged point.

Seems like a regular burial, Rick.

Do you really buy this portal to hell deal?

I wouldn't say I buy it, Liz.

Let's just say I'm window shopping.

And right now, there's a half price sale on weird.

Larry Renwick will be remembered for his wit

and laughing eyes.

And for being, above all, a good friend.

I'm sure we all feel that he exploded too young

but the Lord moves in mysterious ways.

Sometimes he'll come in at an angle.

Other times he can hover or swoop.

Sometimes he can come in from beneath like a worm

or mole.

The Lord, it's his call how he chooses to manoeuvre.

Look out, he's got a gun!

No!

My baby boy!

Move aside!

That's the mother, Rick.

Well, that'll stop him.

It seems as though Dagless was right about burning Renwick.

I'm just gonna over there and tell him that.

I don't know how, Rick, but you were right.

Here. Take this.

I hate using these things.

You'd best go see to the mother, I had to put a cap in her shoulder.

Tell her... Tell her I'm sorry.

You did what you had to do...

I know, but do tell her I'm sorry.

Sure. And... thanks, buddy.

Rick, where are you going?

To get some air.

To get away.

The doors of Darkplace were open.

Not the literal doors of the building, most of which were closed,

but evil doors, dark doors,

doors to the beyond.

Doors that were hard to shut

because they were abstract and didn't have handles.

They were more like portals, really.

From this day on I'd have to fight these forces of darkness

and deal with the burden of day-to-day admin.

I do not believe that any form of life,

be it human, animal or plant,

should be hurt in the making a television programme.

So I personally feel very bad about the cat we killed.

I had a cat once. I dropped a sofa on it,

it was a right off, so I stood on its head.

All I do is sit down at the typewriter

and start hitting the keys.

Getting them in the right order that's the trick.

That's the trick.

'Garth Marenghi's Darkplace' is a Garth Marenghi production.

In association with Dean Learner.