Original subtitles

[rock music]

Yeah 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!

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!

[crashing]

What ho!

Yes, you're in luck, it's me!

Don't worry, your Royal Highness, your Royal Middleness,

you're in safe--

[screaming]

Careful.

All fine, your Royal Willie-ness.

Bit rude, she said, hogging the camera.

-Get on with it! -Of course, sirrah.

Respectful curtesy.

-[smashing] -[yelling]

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! -[groaning]

Push, darling, push.

It's the last bit of work

you'll ever have to do in your life.

Time for the birthington.

Now, towels, hot water, and most importantly,

tiny red carpet.

Is daddy going to cut the cord?

Um, well--

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! -[sighing]

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.

♪ I'm fat, I'm round, I've got a million pounds ♪

♪ Cameron, Cameron! ♪

[upbeat music]

♪ Don't cha wish your leader was hot like me ♪

♪ Don't cha wish your leader was a geek like me ♪

♪ Don't cha ♪

♪ Huh, yeah ♪

♪ Don't cha ♪

[groaning]

At least I tried.

[bright music]

Welcome to This Morning, I'm Phillip Schofield,

friendly in front of the camera, dead behind the eyes.

And I'm Amanda Holden, everyone's tenth favorite 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 program

but a grownup 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.

[Announcer] Will you please welcome to the stage,

Britain's biggest joker, Nigel Farage!

[clapping]

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."

[laughing]

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?

[audience booing]

Bloody lefties, who picked this audience?

Haven't gone down this badly since I had my plane crash.

[Audience Member] Don't you mean car crash?

-We saw the leaders debate! -[audience laughing]

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. [belching]

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?

Oh now Wayne, this is very important.

-If we get a corner-- -Yes, boss?

Be very careful, I've planted some carrots there.

Oh 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.

[crowd cheering]

-Oh, we've kicked off! -[splattering]

Oi, do you mind?

[crowd groaning]

Serves you right, you cheeky little scamp!

Booyakasha, I'm Evan Davis,

but you can call me the Funky Monkey News Junkie.

On tonight's not at all dumbed-down Newz Nite,

I'll be having top quality bants with Dave,

-a.k.a. 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.

Hey, 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 would be much appreciated.

I'll tell her some exciting celebrity anecdotes.

Let me tell you about the one time...

Which is funny because I was actually there

to renew my loft insulation.

[life support machine beeping]

Wait, what's happening?

I'm sorry to say this Mr. Barlow,

but it would appear you have literally bored her to death.

Oh heck, what if I tell her about the hilarious mix-up

I had in the carpark of a B&Q?

-I think you'd better go. -Oh, okay.

That reminds me of the one time in Argos.

[groaning]

Are you okay, 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 screaming]

Hello, Alan Carr.

Ed, Ed, all the teenage girls on Twitter

are going crazy for you!

I know, it's a bit embarrassing, really.

So, what we all want to know is,

-do you trim, shave or wax? -[audience cheering]

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?

Um, who wants to see my topless Poldark pose?

[audience screaming]

Sorry, those are mine, don't ask why they're so stiff.

[laughing]

Wee, wee, wee!

Wee, wee, wee!

[laughing]

Sh-bung!

Okay, 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 for?

Oh, did you want it funny?

I'm so sorry.

Chubley's Jam [laughing] 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.

[sobbing]

-Do you see? -Yeah, absolutely.

They're 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. -Okay, let's do another one.

Chubley's Jam--

No, 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, yes.

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 blah.

Well, I did do once go on the One Show.

Perfect!

-[bagpipes playing] -[phone ringing]

Well, wonder who this is.

Hello?

Och-aye, the noo Alex, Supreme Leader here.

Ah, how did you get my contact details?

Oh easy, North Korea have state-of-the-art

-computering system! -[electronic buzzing]

Anyway, I am calling to offer you my support,

-we have lot in common. -I don't think we do.

We both eat well when rest of the nation

has terrible diet.

Aye, but apart from that.

You hate your rich Southern neighbor, right?

Well I--

And you have nuclear weapons that you want to get rid of.

I guess I do.

Well, why not drop them on your Southern neighbor?

That's how I'm going to get rid of mine.

Just a second here, you've gone too far.

You're sounding like a dangerous, power-mad egomaniac!

Yeah, that another thing we have in common!

Oh!

Welcome back to This Morning,

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 be henceforth 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 me libidinosity

for a period of one calendar week.

That's amazing, has it been difficult?

-[rumbling] -Oh, Lawks!

Oh dear, sounds like we might be allowed

to do that sperm facial after all.

-Cut to the adverts! -[screaming]

[gentle guitar music]

Get on with it, George!

It turns out that doing nothing isn't enough

to win this election after all.

-[crashing] -[grumbling]

Pickles, did no-one ever teach you to knock?

Oh, sorry, I thought I smelled cooking!

What are you two 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 even met a poor person?

Of course, I went to Manchester 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. [laughing]

What do you two twazzocks know about crystal meth?

Well, I studied chemistry at prep school.

And I studied meths at Eton.

[laughing]

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!

[exploding]

Well, it's not the first policy

that's blown up in my face.

♪ There lives a certain man in Russia today ♪

♪ Who doesn't like anyone who is gay ♪

♪ People look at him with terror and fear ♪

♪ And he never dresses up in tight leather gear ♪

♪ Ra, ra, ra, Putin ♪

♪ Hater of all Russian queens ♪

♪ I'm not pleased to see you ♪

♪ It's a gun in my pocket ♪

♪ Ra, ra, ra, Putin ♪

♪ Russia's greatest war machine ♪

♪ There goes your plane ♪

♪ But it wasn't my rocket ♪

[Reporter] 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.

[laughing]

Blimey, this stuff is everywhere.

[rock music]

[grunting]

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, but, but, but, but.

-Oh, sugar. -[dramatic music]

Lord Sugar to you!

-Uh-- -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 here

can turn himself into a sex symbol,

-then anything's possible! -Oh.

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 program works!

-[cellphone ringing] -Hello?

Your challenge is to design a new logo

for the Labour Party,

something that will really appeal to the voters.

Right, so we'll need focus groups, researchers,

designers and about a million pounds.

Well, 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, I've got important business to do.

[crackling explosion]

-Okay, let's do this. -Right, whoops!

Here's the old logo, now tell me what's wrong with it.

-Uh-- -Everything, it's terrible.

What does it make you think of?

-The Labour Party. -Get rid of the rose.

No keep it, people understand the rose.

-Okay. -But the rose is English.

I know, add a thistle for the Scots.

Right.

-And a leek for the Welsh. -Good idea.

No, don't do a leek you plonker, it's daffodils for Wales.

Do a daffodil and a leak.

And something for Northern Ireland, a shamrock?

That'll do.

And we should represent all the faiths.

Good idea, I will draw Mohammed!

[Both] No!

[Narrator] Meanwhile, at Highgrove,

Charles and Camilla are getting royally sozzled

watching Britain's Got Talent.

[Judge On TV] I thought you were fantastic

and I'm not just saying that

because I've been hypnotized 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?

-I beg your pardon? -Top up.

-[barking] -[guzzling]

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.

Right.

Let's see, 8 a.m., look at calendar and sigh.

Done that.

You are bang on schedule, sir!

Next, 8:10, golf.

-And after the golf? -Um, golf.

Indoor golf, outdoor golf, golfing lunch,

golf siesta, golf extra.

Then meeting with the leader of the Democrats in Congress.

Oh, great!

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?

-Nope, 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.

So I set you an impossible task

with nowhere near enough time or resources to do it.

How did you get on?

We are quite pleased with the results, your Sugarship.

Ta-da!

That is the least appealing,

most horrific thing I have clapped eyes on, and remember,

I've worked with Katie Hopkins.

What the hell is that 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, NHS theme.

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 ♪

♪ Yeah, 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 ♪

♪ I 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, no, no ♪

[Announcer] 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 walks to 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, don't swipe, 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?

[sobbing]

[Narrator] Warning, the popularity of coalitions

may go down as well as down, always read the small print.

Where is he, Trevor should have been here before me!

Oh, 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 sendoff. -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.

-Oh! -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.

[kissing]

So how do you feel?

Not bad, actually, I feel pretty good.

I'm going to go and get drunk with my friends

at the reception.

You two really are adorable, aren't you?

-Bless. -Aw.

Well, it looks like your job is done here.

And so is yours,

your favorite choir boy's gone to the tabloids.

Oh!

Look, I'm holding my hands up like I'm ruffling a puppy!

Wobbling my quiff, wobbling my quiff!

[rock music]

It's okay 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?

Boo!

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!

Eh?

You've got to use words like

thunder snow, weather bomb, snowpocalypse!

Yes, but in meteorological terms--

-Fuckity bye to you, pal. -Ow!

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 vag for shelter.

Elsewhere, mostly mild with occasional sunny spells.

Now, where's my fucking TARDIS?

I'm off to the summer of '76!

[rock music]