Original subtitles

The year I went down to London to actively seek work

was a significant year for me.

Dossing about on the dole

was hardly new to me exactly, but dossing about on the dole

down in London...

now that was a significant change.

You see, I'm a lazy bastard at the best of times,

But if a dosser like me can find gainful employment

in the big smoke

then so could anyone.

or at least that's what I told

my best mate Kenny, from Ireland.

Which might explain why you see him here.

My best mate Kenny, over, from Ireland.

Unannounced, unexpectedly visiting,

this lazy bastard

Who, it has to be said, well

It goes without saying,

That lazy bastard's me.

For frig's sake, Kenny,

What the frig are you doing here?

What the frig are you doing here? More like it.

You look like shite...

I feel like shite.

Rough night, last night, was it?

Yeah

Guess you'd call it that.

What happened there?

What happened where?

There!

Black Death, last night

Black Death, last night...

What?

Call in sick, did you?

you know, work

Your job.

Recruitment Manager In the city, 18 K.

You don't have one, do you?

Now, I could have lied and said 'yes'

And granted, my mate Kenny he does look stupid,

But let's be honest here.

Look at the state of me.

I had to say

No.

Frig me Byron, Look at you.

You're a frigging mess.

You're back on the booze again?

For frig's sake, Kenny.

You're giving me a sore head.

That's not me.

That's last night.

What are you down here for anyway?

I'm down here because you told me

the streets of London are paved with gold.

Like shite.

Exactly, like shite.

I think I need a drink.

I think it's me that needs a drink.

Look, Byron.

It's my last fiver.

my one and only.

You don't know any good pub by any chance, do you?

Aye, I knew a good pub alright.

My best mate Kenny.

Only a wee part of him had fallen for my story

about the city job.

...two Guinnesses, please.

The larger percentage,

The overruling majority of him had always suspected

that it was a total load of shite.

Byron?

What?

Still, all the same,

I don't think he could have quite expected this.

Know what I mean?

This is a frigging gay pub!

Aye, I know.

If you know, then what the fuck are we doing here?

Kenny!

A pub's a pub, a drink's a drink,

And I need a frigging drink.

Now, where's your fiver?

Here. Well where's your money?

Kenny... there's detox week and there's giro week.

This is detox week. You happy?

I'll be happy just as long as no one talks to us, all right?

Hi, Byron.

Hey, have you heard?

The queen's dead!

The queen dead? No!

Yes, died last night.

Poor bitch!

Now that, presumably,

was the first gay guy, to my knowledge,

that Kenny has ever met in his entire life.

At least, it's the first gay guy he's ever met through me!

And I'll have to be honest with you,

It was far from being the last.

You all right, Kenny?

Just so long as you don't kiss any more gay guys

on the cheek I'll be all right.

Byron

Hi Jeff.

How are you?

Take a seat and meet my mate Kenny.

He's just come over from Ireland.

Oh, from Ireland, how sweet.

Unfortunately, you Irish boys

tend to get corrupted when you get to London

so my advice to you would be to go straight back.

Unlike you, I am addicted

to this God-awful city, unfortunately.

Yes, I'm much too old to be a practicing poof,

But I enjoy it rather too much to give it up.

Oh, Byron, have you heard,

Her majesty, her royal highness

is dead.

I did actually.

When did that happen?

Last night.

As much as a paddy would welcome

the abolition of the royal family,

the dead queen in question was unfortunately not

the ruler of England, but was,

in fact, yet another male homosexual.

Or in other words, the queen was a dead gay guy.

Dead Gay Gay Number One, you might say.

As he was to be the first of nine,

But the only one to be

electrocuted!

Electrocuted?

Yes, with a cattle prod.

With a cattle prod?

Yes, a cattle prod.

I mean that's a Class 5 Offensive Weapon.

Anyway, she's dead.

Regrettably, irredeemably, dead.

Death is a strange thing really.

There's something about death

That makes one feel so very much... alive.

There's a cruel irony, yes there is,

A cruel irony that while some poor bastard

is decomposing six feet under,

We're still here, to live

And love.

And shop

and suck.

Now tell me, Byron,

I may be mistaken, but isn't this your detox week?

Oh, maybe it's your uhh, let me see, let me see,

Yes, it's your giro week.

Oh, no, no, no,

It's not giro week, Jeff.

Really? So what kind of a week is it?

It's Jeff week.

That's right, it is.

Oh, Byron.

Thank you, Byron.

Thank you very much.

No problem.

Very good this time.

Cheers, Jeff.

There was giro week, And there was detox week.

Detox was short for detoxification.

Or in other words, finances were low,

Too low to drink the Black Death,

which is a bad thing.

But then I met Jeff,

And detox week became Jeff week, which was a good thing.

This was Jeff week.

Or in other, other words,

Any week that I drank Jeff,

I would drink the Black Death!

Or not, as it happens.

It was past 11.

Hi.

A bottle of Black Death, please.

No, mate.

Aw c'mon, give us a break.

It's gone 11:00.

But it's just gone one minute past, though.

Look, it's my license. I ain't laying it on the line for you.

But it's not just for me, though, is it?

It's for him as well.

Yeah.

C'mon, mate.

He's my long lost brother, right?

We just need a bit of drink to celebrate, OK?

I ain't serving you, or your h-bloc long lost brother here.

And now I can't serve you compassionately this side of 11 o'clock.

Do you get me?

Now, a bottle of Black Death, please?

What the fuck is that?

It's a cattle prod!

It's a Class 5 Offensive Weapon.

Byron, you're a fucking arsehole, you know that?

That's a mouth now! Just get it, right?

Try coming in before 11, sometime?

It's a lot easier that way.

Where'd you get this thing anyway?

I found it.

What do you mean, you found it?

I mean I found it.

Last night.

- A lot of things happened last night, didn't they? - What?

Look, don't "What" me, all right?

What exactly happened last night, that's what.

Nothing happened last night.

I was in the back room, that's all.

The back room?

What the freak is a back room?

The back room,

Otherwise known as a dark room,

Otherwise known as the play room, was aptly named.

It was in the back, it was dark as shite,

and it was full of boys

playing with each other's toys.

Not that I would ever call it that, no

Giving a guy a blow job for money

was what I called legitimate, lucrative work.

Giving a guy a blow job while stealing his money

was what I called illegitimate, lucrative work.

This was the illegitimate variety.

Only the guy didn't have any money.

This cattle prod killed the queen.

What?

The guy you stole this frigging cattle prod from

electrocuted the queen to death.

You think so?

You know he did!

You mean to tell me, you gave a murderer a blow job?

It was detox week, Kenny.

He was a murderer, Byron!

I freaking didn't know

that he was a murderer at the time, Kenny!

Most cases you stick your hand down a guy's pocket

you expect to find a wallet,

not a fricking cattle prod!

You know you're gonna have to go to the police.

You're gonna have to hand it in.

It's a piece of evidence.

And what would you like me to tell them?

'Ah, could I have a description of the murderer please?'

Oh, he had a 3�-inch willy, sir.

He had a 3�-inch willy?

Aye.

You ever been in a dark room, Kenny?

It's dark as shite, can't see fuck-all.

This murderer, I know he had a 3�-inch willy

and that's about all I know about him.

Well if it was that dark, Byron

How did you even know that?

It wasn't even as long as my fist.

Finding your best mate broke,

and back on the booze, was probably bad enough already.

But finding out that he's been blowing queers

to subsidize his booze is presumably worse.

However, finding out that the queen's been electrocuted

by a gay guy with a cattle prod

and a 3�-inch willy

was really queer news, ain't it?

I guess, as such, Kenny could be forgiven

for thinking that things could hardly get any worse.

I was to prove him wrong of course!

What the frig!

What's the matter now?

You tried to kiss me!

No.

You did so.

You tried to make a pass at me.

Byron

Are you gay?

No.

Then why did you try to kiss me?

I thought we were mates, Kenny!

We are mates,

But that doesn't mean that you can kiss me.

I mean mates don't go around kissing each other

whenever they feel like it.

Give us a blow job.

Kenny this is a Class 5 Offensive Weapon.

Give us a blow job, or else...

Byron, there's no way I'm going to give you a blow job.

Do you understand?

Oh, come on, Kenny.

This isn't real gay sex.

It's not as if it's

Anal, or arsehole, or sphincter or shitter or bumm banger or butt fucker

or penetrative type sex.

You for real? Are you?

Only messing, Kenny.

Byron, you've changed.

You've really changed, you know that?

I guess Kenny had a point.

I guess I had changed.

London must have changed me.

I mean, I had never asked him for a blow job before.

That much is true.

But then again, he was one to talk.

I mean, it wasn't long before he was to become

a practicing poof either!

Sure enough, what London had done to me,

London would now do to Kenny.

I need a pee.

I need a drink.

I need a pee so I can have a drink after my pee

because I need a drink.

Byron?

What?

You got any of that money left on you?

Here's my last fiver,

the one and only.

I think we should spend it now

on breakfast beverages and a liquid lunch.

I agree totally.

Now Kenny,

bearing in mind your present physical condition

which at best can only be described as fragile,

which pub do you feel like you're capable of walking to?

Two Guinesses, please.

Kenny.

What?

This here's a frigging gay pub!

Not funny, Byron.

It appears to me that this here drinking establishment

has an unusually high proportion of punters

of a homosexual nature.

Byron, you're not frigging funny, all right?

You see, the difference between me and you is

you look around this pub and all you see is

a lot of gay guys, and homosexuals,

and queers, and buttfuckers, and faggots and poofs, right?

Whereas me, whenever I look around this pub

I see a way of subsidizing my giro, big time.

Byron, I'm not giving anyone a blow job.

Kenny, don't look at it as a blow job.

See it as work:

Legitimate, lucrative work.

I'm not giving anyone a blow job, all right?

Face it, Kenny, would I ask you to give anyone a blow job?

I wouldn't do that.

to anyone I wouldn't...

Just Jeff.

Jeff?

Aye, Jeff.

Are you for real, are you?

What?

Kenny!

Byron, there's just no frigging way, all right?

Look do you want to be ever gainfully employed, or what?

Byron, I'd rather be another pathetic paddy

sleeping on the streets of London, starving, freezing to death

than gainfully employed in that sort of work, all right?

- That sort of work is it now? - Yeah.

Welcome to my country cottage.

It's a little cramped,

But I'm sure it will do.

Kenny...

Breakfast is ready...

Slower, slower, slower.

That's it, no, Now that's too slow.

Split the difference, Split the difference.

I know what you're thinking.

You're probably thinking 'how could he?'

But take it from me, and I should know,

It was an easy choice to make.

I mean, did Kenny really want to be

just another homeless impoverished paddy

sleeping on the streets of London?

Did he frig!

Thank you

- You did very well. - Thanks.

For a beginner, excellent.

Thanks Jeff

And anyway, it's only a blow job.

I mean, it's not like it was real gay sex or anything.

It's like it was anal, arsehole, sphincter,

shitter bum bang, penetrative type sex.

No, all that Kenny was to do later.

So Kenny,

Who are you sleeping with at the moment?

I'm staying at Byron's.

What?

A big boy like you crammed

into that tight, rancid little hole?

Well, you know, you can always stay with me.

I've got plenty of room.

Outlived the wife by at least a decade.

Jeff, the horny bugger,

had literally shagged his wife into an early grave.

She died right there on the marital bed.

That was at least a decade ago. And Jeff, true to her memory,

Jeff hadn't slept with another woman since.

Entrez, Kenny dear.

Wow, Jeff

It's a, a big bed you have there.

Oh, Kenny.

Darling, you are showing your age.

I've seen much bigger!

But then again,

I'm centuries older than you are.

Oh, I've been a terrible slut,

I have.

You know, I've had, and been had,

Sit down

on beds much bigger than this one.

But never, never, in my whole life,

have I ever been had on a bed

as big as Golders Green's bed.

Who the frig is Golders Green?

He is the queen's lover.

Golders Green.

No one knew his real name.

In fact, no one knew anything at all about him,

other than the fact he lived somewhere in Golders Green.

Jesus H. Christ!

He was very discreet, you see.

He was an orthodox jew.

So, was he your uhm,

boyfriend, then, sir?

No, he was not my boyfriend!

I'm an orthodox jew, please!

He was my friend, just my friend.

I see. Your friend.

Well, would you happen to know

if he had any other friends, sir?

No. No friends.

What about enemies then?

I mean was there anyone else?

No there was nobody else.

We never went out.

We stayed in.

We stayed in bed, all day and every day,

just me and my... my friend.

Blimey!

That is a big bed, sir.

So his bed was bigger than yours?

Well, it had to be.

You see, they say, that's where he kept all his money.

Why would he hide his money in his bed?

Well it makes more sens than what it sounds,

You see,

They practically lived in the bed.

I mean they did everything in the bed.

They ate in the bed, they shagged in the bed.

they even slept in the bed.

And they also say, that every time the queen let GG have him,

He would reach in the mattress and pull out

- Thank you, your majesty - a wad of cash

Oh, thank you Goldilocks.

It's what you might call

Her majesty's discreet service.

Well...

Do you think that whoever murdered the queen

took Golders Green's money?

That is a possibility.

After all, the queen used to find

a different lover every Friday night.

Friday nights,

when Golders Green was off to synagogue,

the queen would make a similar pilgrimage to his own Mecca.

Keep the bed warm, your majesty.

Goldilocks is off to synagogue.

The queen may not have been jewish,

but he did, nonetheless,

have a religious bent of his own.

Indeed, he was positively zealous

in his picking up of new converts

to his own faith.

My!

You're a big boy!

So, whoever the queen picked up

on that fateful Friday night,

must have murdered him and stolen the money.

The murderer took the money?

Yeah, that's right. Yes, very good.

Sherlock Holmes, you are clever.

But enough of all these terrible depressing stories of murder

and mayhem, and horror.

That's not why we're here.

We're here to have a nice time together, aren't we?

Rough night last night?

Yeah, you could call it that.

What happened there?

What happened where?

There!

Ah, Jeff.

Jeff died, appropriately enough, like his wife before him,

a decade ago, on the marital bed.

In the end, Jeff, also lik his poor wife before him,

had literally shagged himself to death.

Jeff had shagged himself into...

You took him up the bum, Kenny?

Why, haven't you?

For frig's sake, Kenny,

I've never taken a guy up the bum before.

You haven't?

No.

I don't do penetration.

Sure, I'm not even gay.

You aren't?

No!

Kenny, are you gay?

No, I'm not gay, Byron.

It's the same as having sex with a women,

except it's a man.

Anyway, it's work.

Legitimate, lucrative work.

You said so yourself.

What, Kenny?

You shagged the guy to death!

I don't think

you quite grab the severity of the situation here!

The poor bugger's dead!

And it's still not yet giro week!

I mean, where are we gonna go for money now?

Kenny knew I was right.

I mean, did we really want to be just another two

homeless, impoverished paddies sleeping on the streets of London?

Did we, frig!

No, we'd much rather sleep on

Golders Green's bed.

Golders Green's bed?

Everyone knows there's money hidden

inside Golders Green's bed.

Kenny, that's just a myth.

A rumor.

Everyone knows there's no bread in the bed.

No, not now there isn't.

What?

Well the murderer has stolen it all, hasn't he?

What murderer?

The queen's murderer.

Find the queen's murderer

And you'll find Golders Green's money.

And just how do you propose

that we find this murderer, Kenny?

I mean, we know nothing at all about him.

Yes we do.

He has a 3�-inch willy.

Byron, where are you going?

Margaret's.

Margaret's?

Who the frig is Margaret's?

I thought we were gonna look for a gay guy

with a 3�-inch willy.

It's the second pub closest to the flat.

It's got a back room.

A back room?

Byron, I'm not going near any back room, all right?

Look, Kenny.

with a 3�-inch willy, right? Yeah.

Well, if you can imagine, it can be rather difficult

to find a willy that tiny even in the best of times.

But if, if

such a wee willy actually does exist

then it's only in the back room

that we're probably going to find it.

Do you understand me?

It seems perfectly logical to me.

And anyway it's where Donkey Dick Dark hangs out.

Donkey Dick Dark?

Who the frig is Donkey Dick Dark?

In a world where all that counts

is the size of your willy,

Donkey Dick Dark rules supreme.

He was a willy expert.

If there was a 3�-inch willy out there

then Donkey Dick Dark would have heard about it.

In other words, we had to find a big dick

to find a small dick, to find the queen's murderer

to find the money hidden in Golders Green's bed.

It was quite complicated.

In other, other words, we had to find

Donkey Dick Dark!

3� inches.

That sounds like bollocks to me.

The queen would never have taken anything that small.

No?

No.

The queen liked her dicks big.

The girl had class.

That girl had taste.

I mean, why do you think they called her

the seven eleven?

Seven eleven?

What the frig's a seven eleven?

That's a seven. And that's an eleven. Anything in between was big enough

and classy enough, for her royal highness.

Anything bigger

passes Golders Green's really hard Red Bull Test.

Golders Green's really hard Red Bull Test?

What the frig is Golders Green's really hard Red Bull Test?

Golders Green's really hard Red Bull Test

was the one singular reason Golders Green,

on that rarest of occasions, could be seen outside of Golders Green.

Are you man enough to pass the really hard Red Bull Test?

Two cans of Red Bull.

Really long, really strong, really hard.

Now that mah-fucker is what's commonly known

as Golders Green's really hard

Red Bull Test.

Flip me, Kenny.

That is really hard!

Sure, that ain't possible.

If so, please contact

Golders Green! Golders Green!

Two cans of Red Bull long?

But surely no one could be that big!

Surely no one could ever be that lucky!

Rick

Two cans of Red Bull, please.

True to its name,

Golders Green's really hard Red Bull Test

was, indeed, really hard.

But it wasn't, however, impossible.

I mean, why else do you think the queen

and Golders Green got together in the first place?

Hi.

They call me the queen.

You can call me your majesty.

Come in, come in

quickly, before somebody sees you.

I have to be a bit discreet,

I'm an orthodox jew.

If the queen was, as you say,

murdered for the bread, in the bed

that you're not looking

for no 3�-inch dick.

No, take it from me.

You don't wanna be doing none of that small dick shit.

You wanna be looking for the... Iron Lady.

Oh, no

Not the Iron Lady!

I think so, boys.

You know what they say: 'Where's there's money...

There's the Iron Lady'.

I don't want to fuck with the Iron Lady!

Who the frig is the Iron Lady?

The Iron Lady was Margaret.

And Margaret was the manageress...

The size of both Kenny and myself put together,

she was of an ample weight.

All of which she tended to push around.

That's disgusting!

Absolutely disgusting!

I'm not having any

disgusting heterosexual behavior in my pub.

Out! Out!

Go on, stay out!

Looking at a woman this fat and scary, I could...

Who let them perverts in here!

...begin to understand

why it is that guys choose to shag guys.

And that, is the Iron Lady.

That woman, as you might say, is 'your man. '

You think she's the murderer?

But surely she wouldn't have a penis,

I mean, not even a tiny one, not like 3� inches.

Would she?

No

She wouldn't have a penis, no.

But the three west African brothers,

now they, no doubt, would be packing their dicks.

The Iron Lady had it all sorted.

Not only was she taking money through the front of the bar,

but she was also taking money off the punters through the back

in exchange for other 'under the counter' services.

The brothers, then, were the other services.

Whereas the father was a punter.

I've never had West African before.

Well, there's always a first time.

So go one, take your pick, father.

Oh, I couldn't possibly choose.

They're all so tasty.

Well, which one do you like?

I would like them all.

You want them all?

Cause that can be arranged.

You know what I like to say,

'Where there's money, there's love. '

And that's exactly what he did.

The father proceeded to have them all,

One at a time.

There were three west African brother altogether.

The youngest being only 14 years old.

He's how old?

Fourteen.

Only fourteen?

only fourteen.

You've had your love father,

Now pay your money.

But I don't have any money.

Well then, you'll just have to pay me in kind, won't you?

No.

No, no, no aagh!

In the end, love cost the father

very dearly indeed!

DEAD GAY GUY NUMBER 3

Because, where there's money, there's the Iron Lady, and

You don't want to fuck with the Iron Lady.

Not when it comes to money, you don't.

Believe me, money's important,

But it's not that important!

Byron, where are you going now?

We're going back to the Elephant's Graveyard.

What about Golders Green's money?

Look, Kenny.

There are some things

that even I don't do for money,

And I don't fuck with the Iron Lady.

I wouldn't like to sleep with the Iron Lady either.

Me neither.

And besides

There's easier ways of making money

than trying to find a 3�-inch willy.

You're better off looking for UFOs.

Go and look for UFOs?

Aye.

Ugly, Fat, Oldies.

Now that Jeff is dead I need a new benefactor.

And there's none as ugly, none as fat,

and none as old, as old Nick.

Hello, Nick.

Meet Kenny.

He's just over from Ireland.

Kenny, say hello to Nick.

I don't need to know his name, Byron.

I just need to know if he's monogamous.

What's monogamous mean?

Monogamous means, my dear boy,

does your beautiful boyfriend sleep exclusively with you,

or does he sleep around with other people as well,

in a more modern relationship?

We're not in a relationship.

We're just mates.

Mmm. You're not attached?

How wonderful.

You wouldn't be open to the suggestion of a threesome,

would you?

No, why'd you say no, Byron?

Kenny, do you really want to shag me?

Because I sure as hell don't want to shag you!

Kenny, we're mates.

And mates don't shag each other!

Yeah, but it's work Byron.

It's money, you know?

Kenny, shagging each other up the bum

is penetration,

and I don't take it, or give it, for that matter.

I don't like it up the bum either!

Nor me!

- I don't like it that way either. - No dear.

Me? I'll go back to earning a proper

decent, respectable living.

Or in other other words, I went back to blow jobs.

Donkey Dick Dark, I wonder

if you happen to know of any sad buggers

not only desperate enough,

but also sexually repugnant to such a degree

as to have little choice

other than to pay me to give them a blow job.

By any chance?

Yeah I do, actually.

I know of a desperate dwarf.

A desperate dwarf?

Yeah, you know, he's a dwarf.

He's about 3� feet tall

and he's desperate.

and naturally it goes without saying

he ain't one of the brothers.

He's about 3� feet tall?

Yeah, 3�.

3�? 3�?

So what if I'm only 3�?

So what if I am small?

Size isn't everything!

I mean, I may not be huge,

but after all,

it's only a matter of inches we're talking about.

Inches?

Yes, inches.

But don't you mean feet?

You know, 3� feet?

No, inches. 3� inches.

No, he meant inches all right!

Coincidentally enough,

Not only was he 3� feet tall, he was also

only 3� inches long.

I had found our 3� inch willy

and we had found our murderer.

No, 3� inches, that' the problem.

No one will take anything under 4.

They say it's too small. They say it's painful.

But I'm telling you,

whenever it comes to penetration

there's always going to be a thin line

between pain and pleasure.

No, No.

No, I only agreed to a blow job,

and no one said anything about penetration.

So what? What's the difference?

Well I'm not gay, right?

Yeah

So what's gonna... I might enjoy it.

No, it's under 4 inches.

You lad, I'm telling you, you won't enjoy it.

Well if I'm not gonna enjoy it,

then I'm definitely not up for it.

Sorry.

I think you'd better go.

Awww, not again!

What the frig?

As it happened, being a short arse wasn't a problem for him,

he didn't mind that so much,

but having a wee willy?

Well that drove him round the bend.

That drove him flipping mental.

I mean, this was one seriously desperate dwarf

we're talking about!

Don't you touch me!

This is a Class 5 Offensive Weapon!

I know it's a Class 5 Offensive Weapon.

It's MY Class 5 Offensive Weapon.

I lost it that night.

That night!

That night you murdered the queen.

Yeah.

So where's the money?

What money?

the money you stole from Golders Green

after you killed the queen.

The money hidden inside the bed!

The money inside the bed?

What bed?

What do you mean, what bed?

The biggest bed in the entire world!

Golders Green's bed!

I didn't get as far as his bed.

No.

No?

No, I'm sorry.

But I never usually take anything under 7,

let alone 4 inches.

4 inches!

Shit!

Well anything shorter than 4 inches, is pure hell.

It doesn't go in properly.

Instead it just lingers around the edge

teasing, never penetrating.

Pain without pleasure.

It's no fun.

No fun.

I won't linger,

I promise you, I won't linger!

No, I'm afraid it's no good.

I tried it once before and NEVER again.

I'm not exaggerating when I tell you

that I couldn't sit down for a whole fortnight afterwards.

It was, and...

you'll have to pardon the pun,

a real 'pain in the arse. '

No, when it comes to my bottom,

I'm afraid 4 inches is the bottom.

Anything less, no go.

In fact, I think you'd better go.

Please no,

Don't make me go. Don't make me beg, for Christ's sake.

No, no, I'll beg, I'll beg...

I'll do anything for you.

You know, I thought it'd turn me on,

to be taken by a midget

sort of kinky

you know.

I'm not a midget, I'm a dwarf.

Whatever!

Small is small, and I like big.

I'm a dwarf, what d'you expect?

Well, I was rather expecting

that long hard thing which I felt earlier.

Long hard thing?

What long hard thing?

- My, you're a big boy... - Are you trying to be funny?

No!

No, not at all.

You ARE a big boy, and hard, too.

Oh, you mean this long hard thing.

Oh, my god. What's that?

It's a cattle prod.

Oh, is that what it is?

What were you doing to do with it, darling?

Electrocute me? Or shove it up my arse?

Well, I was hoping you'd shove it up MY ass, actually.

I think you'd better go.

don't you?

This is also a Class 5 Offensive Weapon.

You know, I swear, I'm not sure what I'm more afraid of,

A cattle prod, or a 3�-inch knob.

This isn't funny!

This is a very dangerous weapon!

That prod is just like you, my little darling,

All charged up, and no one to blow.

Oh, so you didn't actually get to see the bed then?

No.

So if there was money actually hidden inside the bed then,

It's probably still there, do you think?

There's money?

Inside Golders Green's bed?

Well, that's what they say.

Hey, Byron!

If I'm not mistaken,

Didn't that dward have a 3�-inch willy?

Taxi!

I know!

He's the guy we've been looking for, Kenny.

He's the murderer.

He's the murderer?

Listen, guess who I've just seen!

Byron, did you give a dwarf a blow job?

Never mind that, Kenny,

a dwarf!

...a desperate dwarf,

he didn't steal Golders Green's money.

I know, that's what I've been trying to tell you.

Who the frig is the guy in that, Donkey Dick?

Well behold thee,

A succulent slice of panani.

If it isn't Golders Green himself.

Golders Green?

What's that dude doing in here?

He hasn't been in the 'hood since he advertised...

his really hard Red Bull Test.

With the queen dead, Golders Green

was looking for an heir to fill his vacant throne,

and his vacant bed.

We concluded therefore, that there must have been

significant funds left in the royal treasury, as it were.

Or in other words,

his bed might have been vacant,

but it probably wasn't empty.

Kenny, I think it's about time

we paid Golders Green a visit, don't you?

I agree totally.

But Byron, how are we gonna get there?

No one knows exactly where in Golders Green

Golders Green lives.

But Kenny, the really hard Red Bull Test

isn't the only way of getting there.

It isn't?

No, we can always take a mini-cab.

A mini-cab?

Aye

Dick Cheese Deepak knows where everybody lives.

Dick Cheese Deepak?

Who the frig is Dick Cheese Deepak?

Dick Cheese Deepak was a mini-cab driver.

He wasn't the best driver,

But he did know where Golders Green was.

He wasn't the worst drive either,

but he was more than a little partial

to the professional blow job.

Deepak! Deepak!

Oh is that yours or mine?

A job on the job, as it were.

Deepak's taxi, come with me,

Good morning, good evening

Deepak speaking.

Byron, what makes you think

he's gonna tell us exactly

where it is in Golders Green that Golders Green lives?

I mean, Golders Green is very discreet.

That's easy.

Everyone knows that Dick Cheese Deepak

hasn't had a blow job in the last five years.

He hasn't had a blow job in the last five years!?

No, he's got a foreskin problem.

He's got a foreskin problem?

What the frig's his foreskin problem?

Goodness gracious, it doesn't pull back!

No.

No it hasn't done in the last five years.

Do you think it's going to be a problem?

I think maybe you'd better give me a blow job, don't you?

Oh, OK.

It's better than nothing!

Consequently, as a result of all his dick cheese,

Deepak hasn't been able to persuade any punter

to give him a blow job in the last five years.

Yo, taxi.

Until now, that is.

It's all yours.

Deepak's taxi, come with me,

Good morning, good evening,

Deepak speaking.

What can I be doing with you, please?

Golders Green please.

Where precisely in Golders Green, please.

No, no, no, no, no.

Deepak, Golders Green please.

- Oh, no. - Oh, yes.

- Oh, no. - oh, yes.

Oh, no

Golders Green is choosing to be most private.

He is most discreet.

Look Deepak, cut the crap, right?

Bring us to Golders Green.

And he'll give you your first blow job in five years.

But I've just had one.

- You have? - Yes.

Just half an hour ago.

You mean to say someone gave you,

Dick Cheese Deepak, a blow job?

Yes.

My first blow in five years!

It was terrific. It was a dwarf!

A dwarf!

Yes,

You know, a dwarf.

He's only about 3 and a half feet tall.

Oh, but it's not like I get a blow job every day!

All right, Deepak.

You take us to Golders Green

and we'll give you your second blow job in five years.

OK!

To administer the second blow job in five years

on a willy with an advanced foreskin problem

and an inordinate amount of dick cheese,

one first needs to find a suitable detergent,

disinfectant, and finally last

but not least,

Oh, Jesus!

a more than usually potent deodorizer.

And containing 40% of pure,

undiluted, 100% proof, mind-blowing,

brain cell decimating alcohol.

There was nothing quite as suitable

as good old Black Death.

And that, was Dead Gay Guy No. 4

Dick Cheese Deepak's second blow job in five years

proved unfortunately, also to be his last.

But at least it was a memorable one.

He had managed to come at the precise moment of impact,

ejaculating himself

through the windscreen, quite a respectable distance.

But, as is so often the case

with the first blow job in years, Dick Cheese Deepak

had ejaculated prematurely.

We hadn't yet reached Golders Green.

Oh, where are we?

Dunno.

I know one thing for sure-

We're not in Golders Green.

Kenny,

What is it with you and dead gay guys?

Byron, it was only a blow job, big deal.

Kenny, the guy's dead.

Yet again, I don't think you quite grasp

the severity of the situation here.

There's only two ways to Golders Green,

and one of 'em's lying face down

in the bottom of his car, not alive.

Do you understand? Do you?

What's the other?

The other?

The other? The other's only Golders Green's really hard Red Bull Test.

Oh!

Exactly, Oh!

Jeff's dead.

Dick Cheese Deepak's dead.

It's still not yet giro week.

I could really use a drink right now.

But thanks to you

there's no gay guys left to make any money from!

Byron!

What?

Yes, there is.

Come, Come, Come.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The time had come, then...

I'm delighted to have you

...to shag each other.

I must say, I always welcome

a spot of serendipity.

What the frig's serendipity?

Serendipity means, my dear boy,

that there's a direct consequence of the unhappy

and unfortunate demise of our friend

Dick Cheese Deepak, I am in the fortunate

and happy position of being able to shag you both.

Or, to paraphrase Jeff,

It's a cruel irony, that while some poor bugger

is six feet under, decomposing,

you're left very much alive and able to indulge

in a good old-fashioned threesome.

Now you two boys

look like you could really use a stiff one.

Kenny and me, we were best mates.

But as close as we were,

the thought of taking each other up the bum

was just a little bit more intimate than we would have liked.

Look Byron, it's only work.

Aye.

Legitimate, lucrative work.

I mean, I'm not even gay.

No.

No.

Thus,

now that that's been settled,

Let's get down to business.

Yeah.

Let's get down to business.

Cheers!

Flip sake, Kenny.

What?

Look at your willy!

What's wrong with it?

It's ginormous!

You think?

Aye, I think!

I think it's about the biggest willy

that I've ever seen in my entire life!

I always thought it was average.

Average?

Frig's sake, Kenny, that thing isn't average!

This is average.

Flip me, Byron,

Look at your willy!

Nothing wrong with my willy!

Six and a third inches, Kenny, that's average!

Excuse me, you're the one here

with the flipping weird willy.

I mean, what do the women used to think?

Byron

There's never been any woman.

In fact,

To tell you the truth,

I think I might be gay.

Oh my god, I'm terribly sorry

but you can't really expect me

to accommodate that - thing!

That's way beyond my league.

In fact I wouldn't be surprised if that couldn't pass

Golders Green's really hard Red Bull Test.

Damn!

Golders Green's really hard Red Bull Test!

As a direct consequence

of the unhappy and unfortunate demise

of our mutual friend, Dick Cheese Deepak,

we were in the fortunate and happy position

of being able to pass

Golders Green's really hard Red Bull Test.

I must say, I always welcome a nice spot of serendipity.

Kenny's willy had won us an audience

with the very private, and very discreet, Golders Green,

about whom very little was known, other than the fact

he lived somewhere in Golders Green.

I have to be very discreet, you see I'm an orthodox jew.

Please, sit down.

No, not the chair.

The bed. Please sit on the bed.

The chair's private.

It's personal.

The chair is only for me to sit on,

whereas the bed,

so many people have been in and out of that bed

it might just as well be public property.

I'm funny like that, you see.

I'll let any number of willies up my bum,

But I won't let anybody sit on my chair.

In other words, my bum might be everybody's property,

but my seat is my property! HA!

It's quite a big bed you've got here.

Yes, I like big.

Big is good.

But it takes two to fill a bed.

And with the queen gone

this bed is too big, even for me.

Speaking of big

You've passed the really..

hard Red Bull Test, yes?

Good.

I like big.

Small I don't like.

Dwarves and midgets I don't like. Dwarves I don't do.

Dwarves?

Yes, a dwarf. Earlier to night you should have seen him.

You wouldn't believe it.

He was only about 3� feet tall.

I'm sorry, I don't sleep with midgets.

I'm not a midget, I'm a dwarf!

I don't care what you are! Small is small. I like big.

Nah. I like big. Big boys.

And boy, was the queen a big boy.

He had a...

big...

you know.

and I had a, I have a big... you know

it just fit it very nicely.

Now that he's gone he's left a huge

Hole in my life.

Huge!

And I've been looking for someone

to fill my huge hole ever since.

So...

It was big then?

It was the biggest I've ever seen in my entire life.

Swear to god.

And Kenny,

would it be fair to say therefore

that its capacity to accommodate

was directly proportional to its bigness?

In other words, very, very big?

It would be fair to say

that there's room up there

to stick whatever the hell you want, yes.

I mean, to be honest, it's not every bum

that can take a ginormous willy like mine.

Know what I mean?

Kenny, I was talking about the size of his bed

not his arsehole. You arsehole.

Oh. His bed.

Well that was pretty big too.

Byron, what are you doing?

Look, if that bed is really as big as you say it is,

then that's a shitload of money.

Kenny, I think it's high time we did work

of a highly lucrative and wholly illegitimate nature.

No Byron, listen

Don't you stop me! All right? All right?

All right.

All right.

All right.

And anyway, why do you think

I sent you down to Golders Green in the first place?

Kenny, we don't have sex with guys for pleasure.

We only do it for the money.

Now will you try and remember that, please?

And so back we went to Golders Green.

But as is so often the case when one goes again so soon

after already having had sex,

we were, the second time, late in coming.

Someone had got there before us.

The Iron Lady!

What the frig is she doing here?

Surely you don't think,

Golders Green would fuck with the Iron Lady?

No.

No one could possibly want to have sex with the Iron Lady.

At least not for pleasure, anyway.

Two cans of Red Bull.

Really long, really strong, and really hard.

If so, please contact Golders Green

for lots of fun and money.

Money! Did someone mention money?

Rick, pass over two cans of Red Bull, will ya?

The money,

the bread in Golders Green's bed,

that's what they're here for.

The Iron Lady and the two West African brothers.

The Iron Lady and the TWO West African brothers?

Well where the frig's the third one?

Rick, pass us over two cans of Red Bull, will ya?

Ah ooh, you all pass

Golders Green's really hard Red Bull Test.

Well we are all brothers, you know.

But I don't think I know

which one of you to choose.

Well, Margaret

Which one of us to you like?

Well, dunno really,

to be honest. You all look the same to me.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Catch a...

Fuck me!

Fuck me!

Fuck me!

There's the money in the bed, in the bag!

Flip me, Kenny.

Look at the size of that bed!

Forget about the bed, Byron.

Golders Green, I think he's dead.

Forget about Golders Green.

Have you ever seen a bigger bed in your entire life?

Don't touch him!

If he's dead, then it's murder.

And if it's murder and you've touched him

then we're both implicated.

And anyways, hey

Do you love him or what?

Do you love him?

- No of course I don't love him. - Exactly.

You don't love him and you're not gay.

Kenny, I will never forget the size of that bed.

Never!

Nor will I ever forget

the ginormous amount of money that must have been hidden

in a bed of that magnitude, either.

Money, I might add,

that we were going to steal first.

If only the Iron Lady and the three West African brothers

hadn't gotten there before us.

Forget it, Byron.

The money it's gone, we'll never get it now.

Oh, yes we will.

How d'you mean?

Well where do you think the Iron Lady

and the three West African brothers

went after they got the money?

Margaret's.

It's only the second closest pub to the flat.

Oh no, Byron.

We don't want to fuck with the Iron Lady, OK?

Oh, yes.

Yes we do wanna fuck with the Iron Lady.

Hello.

My name's Bill Clinton

And this is my colleague Ronald Reagan.

Owing to recent national expenditures the U.S. economy is not as strong

as it could be, or indeed should be.

It is our responsibility therefore to bring about

a level of stability on the economic front.

Or in other words, to refill the coffers.

Or in other, other words

and to use plain fucking English

hand over your frigging money.

Is that you, Byron?

It is, it's the Black Death.

The Black Death.

'Can I get a Black Death, please?'

Byron, they know you, they frigging know you.

Well for course they know me,

I'm here nearly every night.

Look, just hand over your frigging money, all right?

What money?

What you do you mean, 'what money'? Golders Green's money!

The bread in the bed.

The bread in the bed?

The money. Where's the money?

What money?

The money in the bed. Where's the money in the bed?

There is no money in the bed.

Everybody knows there's bread in Golders Green's bed.

There's no money in the bed.

It's rumors and lies.

Look! Look at the bed! There's no money in the bed.

But Margaret, maybe he's telling the truth,

not all jewish people have a lot of money.

It's just a stereotype.

People stereotype jews in the same way

that they stereotype balck men or fat women.

Jewish people are rich,

black men are well-endowed,

fat women only become lesbians only because they can't find a man.

You know,

Maybe there's no truth in a stereotype whatsoever.

Especially that last one.

Whether or not poor Golders Green died from being hit

or from a heart attack we'll never know.

Heart attack or no heart attack, though,

the sheer pain of seeing his bed destroyed

in front of his very eyes

would have killed him anyway.

There's no bread in the bed?

No. It was just a stereotype, stupid.

And as we all know,

there's no truth in a stereotype whatsoever.

So what's in the bag?

There's no bread in the bag either.

So there we all were.

Standing there like the total knobs

Golders Green had taken us for.

Golders Green in more ways that one

had well and truly shagged the lot of us.

All of us, that is, except for the desperate dwarf.

Where's the money?

Who the hell is the midget?

I'm not a midget, I'm a dwarf!

How the hell did a dwarf get in here?

Small is small, I like big.

No, the desperate dwarf Golders Green didn't shag.

He was too small.

The Iron Lady!

Where's the money?

There is no money!

Oh! If there is no money, how did Golders Green

persuade the queen to have sex with him?

He didn't.

They probably had sex just for pleasure.

They probably did it out of love.

Did it out of love?

Sex for pleasure?

No, you don't need money to have sex.

That again is yet another stereotype.

Two unattractive people can have sex, as long as

they're attracted to each other.

Two people who are in love can have sex for free.

They can have sex for free? Bahh!

Look, enough of this!

What does this anyway, a bloody circus or what?

How many more clowns and midgets am I to expect tonight?

I'm not a midget, I'm a dwarf!

What's the difference?

Small is small!

I keep telling you, I'm not a midget. I'm a dwarf!

For a small short arse of a guy

the desperate dwarf

had an awfully large chip on his shoulder.

Yet again he went flipping mental.

Then again, his inferiority complex

could be seen as justified. I mean, after all,

the poor midget did only have a 3�-inch willy.

Hitting on everyone with his big stick

the desperate dwarf was directly responsible

for Dead Gay Guys number 6, 7,

8 and 9. Number 9 being himself.

The Iron Lady fell on top of him.

It was the first time the desperate dwarf

had ever hit on a woman, and it was the first time

the Iron Lady had ever been on top of a man!

She was a lesbian, of course.

They had sex for pleasure?

It has been known to happen from time to time, Byron, you know.

But if they had sex for pleasure

then what the frig was the big bed for then?

That was for pleasure too, maybe?

Nah!

There has to be money in there!

Byron, there is no money, all right?

There is no frigging money!

You just don't get it, do you?

You can't get it into that thick skull of yours

that people can have sex for pleasure. Huh?

Wow! You know, people fucking for fun!

How strange, huh?

What is it about that strange concept

you just, you just can't grasp, huh?

Jesus!

You know, there doesn't have to be any money, Byron.

There isn't any money!

There's nothing except that stupid fucking bed!

Fuck!

The armchair!

You see, I'll let any number of willies up my bum

but I won't let anybody sit in my chair.

In other words, my bum might be everybody's property

but my seat is my property. Hah!

The year I went down to London to actively seek work

was a significant year for me.

Dossing about on the dole is hardly new to me exactly,

But dossing about on the dole down in London,

Now that was a significant change.

For they say, the streets of London are paved with gold.

I now know this to be an undisputed fact,

for even I was able to find gainful employment

in the big smoke.

Now, I'm a lazy bastard at the best of times,

But if a dosser like me could find work,

then so could anyone.

Highly lucrative and wholly illegitimate work.

But most significantly of all,

the year I went down to London

was the year of the nine dead gay guys.

Byron, why do you have to go?

I mean, why don't you stay?

Nah, I've had enough, Kenny.

I've had enough of dead gay guys.

I mean I don't know what it is about you and dead people, Kenny,

but there's been nine arleady.

Nine dead gay guys.

I mean that's a hell of a lot of dead people

and you've only been here a couple of days.

Know what I mean?

Why don't you come with me?

Go back home for a little while. It might do you some good.

Nah!

Well why not?

What's there to stay for?

You know, the streets of London,

Paved with gold.

Anyway, it's giro week sure.

How much more money do you want, Kenny?

Well you know what they say:

Where there's money, there's love.

Although you don't need money to have sex, exactly,

it can, however, help.

You see, although Golders Green did, in fact

pay her majesty for his pleasure,

their relationship was not totally

without reciprocation.

It was what you might call a give and take relationship.

Golders Green gave, and the queen took.

Thank you, your majesty.

But then sometimes it was the other way round.

No,

Thank you Goldilocks.

In other words, not only could the queen take it,

but the queen could also give it.

And so, I guess you could say,

they were, in more ways than one,

respectively able to fill each other's hole.

What?

The hole in each other's life, that is.

Never wonder then why Golders Green

was so precious about his seat.

Or in other, other words,

when it comes to Golders Green's end

it really is true to say

that where there's money

there's love.

And if London can do all that for Golders Green,

then London can do all that for my best mate, Kenny.

Whatever makes you happy.

Hey Byron

What?

It's good seeing you, man.

Yeah it's good seeing you too.