Extract from 'Culture' - an episode of "Bottom" (BBC)

Eddie: This time we play with a full deck.
Richie: But we've only got five pieces.
Eddie: We can use other things for the missing pieces.
Richie: Hoh, great idea!
Eddie: Now let's see... we need sixteen prawns. Well we're in luck there, we've got a bag in the freezer that are four years past their sell-by date, we can use those.
Richie: Ahhh, oh chess! God I adore chess! I should have been a chess champion. If I'd spent my whole life learning how to play chess better than everyone else in the world I could have been the chess champion. And I look a bit Slavic, don't you think? [pulls face]
Eddie: What's this pot of cress doing in the fridge?
Richie: That's not cress, that's that yoghurt you started during the Gulf War.
Eddie: Well you could have told me! Might as well finish it.
Richie: Ho, yeah, a bit of chess. Hah, Gad, if only I had a smoking-jacket. Eh -- hang on! [leaves]

[Eddie digs into his pot of greenery, lifts out a spoonful and chews it.]

Eddie: Doesn't taste like banana and peach.

[Richie comes back in, wearing his raincoat inside-out.]

Richie: Da-dah! What do you think, Eddie?
Eddie: I think you've got your raincoat on inside-out. Are you off? I thought we were playing chess.
Richie: No, no, no, it's a smoking-jacket, look, the quilting. All the sophisticated people are wearing them.
Eddie: Well why have you got one on then? Anyway, you don't smoke.
Richie: And nor does my jacket. Ah-ha, ah-hahaha! Oh God! Oh I feel just like Noel Wilde today.

[Eddie puts a bottle of sauce down on the chessboard.]

Eddie: Right, here we go then. Now, that can be the king. Well it has to be, doesn't it? I mean, it's brown sauce.
Richie: Ah. [acting] "Cigarette, my dear?" "Don't mind if I do my dear." "Have a bit of a biro to smoke it through." "Oh, ta very much. Mm, thought your new play was great, by the way." "Oh, there's only one thing better than having a great play, and that's having... two great plays." "That doesn't make any sense, Oscar." "I know, none of my stuff does you know. Hahaa." "Nice bit of biro by the way." "Ta very much."

[He takes a drag of his cigarette, using a biro tube as a holder, breathes
smoke out through his nostrils, and chokes.]

Richie: [coughing] Nice.

[Richie's side of the chessboard is populated with a wild assortment of objects: a plastic skeleton, a tomato-shaped sauce bottle, a sausage, a cactus wearing a crown, the brown sauce, a Cluedo piece, a bottle of food
colouring, a plastic Spiderman. A row of frozen prawns serve as pawns for each player. Eddie completes his pieces with a mouldy pear and an apple pierced by a nail.]

Eddie: Right then, all set. A little unconventional, but most of it's fresh.
Richie: Hoh, oh Eddie, Eddie this is so sophisticated isn't it?
Eddie: Ha.
Richie: I feel just like Lord Byron. And that other bloke, you know, Earl Thingy, with the long dressing-gown and the flappy stuff around his chin.
Eddie: Really? 'Cause you look like a stupid git with his raincoat on inside out.
Richie: Oh, Eddie, this is fantastic. Chess is the best idea we ever had. And it was one of mine, wasn't it? [deep breath] Right, this has got to be perfect. It's just two guys, right, no chicks, it's just man to man. Cultured. Urbane. Civilised. Male stuff. And I'm not being funny. Right, what do we need? Twiglets. You know, high society stuff, little dishes of nosey-picks scattered around the place.
Eddie: Olives!
Richie: Hey Eddie, you're catching on. Great idea!
Eddie: Erm, we haven't got any olives. What about prunes?
Richie: Well they look like olives, don't they, and they make you regular!
Eddie: Tin of prunes coming right up, Mr. Byron.
Richie: Right! Let's have a cocktail. Right, what would James Bond have?
Eddie: Well, he'd have a load of birds 'round his gaff, and a corset on so no-one would guess he was sixty.
Richie: Vodka martini, that's it, vodka martini. Shaken about the place but not spilt.
Eddie: Right. Now how d'you make a vodka martini?
Richie: Err... Well, it's got to have some vodka in it, hasn't it, and, er, what about vodka and, erm... martini? Or is that being too stupid?
Eddie: We haven't got any vodka and we haven't got any martini.
Richie: Oh. Well what have we got?
Eddie: We've got... a wee drop of Pernod and half a bottle of ouzo.
Richie: Well that'll do nicely! And don't forget to put a bit of salt around the rim.
Eddie: I beg your pardon?
Richie: Oh come on Eddie, I know what I'm talking about. Everybody in Hollywood does it.
Eddie: I think I'll just put a bit of salt round the edge of the glass, if it's all the same to you.
Richie: [looking out of the window] Ah, perfect. [calls] Ah-ha-ha-ha-haar, watching your tellies are you? Addling your brains? We're having an evening of culture and poetry and chess you know, while you're sitting there vegetating in front of Emmerdale Farm, you poor sad peasants. Ha! What's happened by the way? Has Matt sorted out that problem with Amos in t'top field? ...Pardon? ...No I have not, it's a smoking-jacket! You ignorant git!

[Richie closes the window and takes off his raincoat. He walks over to the
table.]

Richie: Eddie, it's a shame we have to live in this area, it really is. Hoh! Have we got any glace cherries?
Eddie: No, I don't think we have.
Richie: Well, bung a blob of marmalade in then, no-one will know.
Eddie: A little taste... [sips] Dhhhhh! Ha-aaah! Right, here you go, skip-matey me old flapper, and the very best of luck to you, and I mean that very very sincerely.
Richie: Right! Cheers. Ooh no, before you start drinking, as this is a special occasion, I -- ooh, do you think we should dim the lights?
Eddie: Erm, well, we haven't got a dimmer. Shall I get my hammer?
Richie: No, no no, we'll just narrow our eyes a bit.
Eddie: Alright.
Richie: Right. [through slitted eyes] Where are you?
Eddie: I think I'm over here.
Richie: Oh, there you are, right right right. Now, as I was saying, as this is a special occasion, and we've invented a new cocktail for ourselves -- Pernod, ouzo, marmalade and salt -- I think we should think of a special name for it. What do you think?
Eddie: What about the, er, oh, the Bloody... Awful.
Richie: Oh come on Eddie, take it seriously...
Eddie: Oh, got it! The Esther Rantzen.
Richie: E-- why?
Eddie: Because it pulls your gums back over your teeth.
Richie: All right then, the Esther Rantzen it is. Cheers!
Both: [drink] Dhhhhhh! Hhh, hhh...
Eddie: "And on tonight's programme, an interesting misprint that says 'penis'."
Richie: Dhh, ho-hwooh, I see what you mean, yeah, hwooo, hhh. It's sort of
lacking something, isn't it? Ah, mm, have we got any umbrellas?
Eddie: Coming right up.
Richie: [takes another sip] Dhhh! [gags]

[Eddie comes back with two full-size umbrellas.]

Eddie: Here we go.
Richie: Ah!

[They open an umbrella each and sit underneath them.]

Richie: Oh, this is the life Eddie. Sophisticated living, gentlemen's rooms.
Eddie: Yes. Here we are, underneath our umbrellas, drinking ouzo and salt, each behind his line of frozen prawns. That's what I love about you Richie.
Richie: What?
Eddie: You're completely insane!
Richie: Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha ha-ha-haaaah! Ah-ha-ha-ho, wl-wl-wl-wl-wll-l-l-l! Oh gosh, I feel great! Of course, you know why I never got married, don't you?
Eddie: Yep.
Richie: Yeah, tragic isn't it?
Eddie: No. Right, shall we get started?
Richie: Right!

[Eddie reaches out his hand to move...]

Richie: Oh no! Wait! I know what we need. Music! Of course. What could be better? What shall we have, oooh, James Last? Burt Bacharach? Oh... Moliere! Moliere! Oh, he could bash out a tune or two. Tum-tum tiddly-tum tum-tum-tum, tum -- and the other twiddly bits. He was Scottish you know.
Eddie: Who, Vivaldi?
Richie: No Eddie, I'm talking about composers. Honestly, it's football football football with you, isn't it? Hey, do you remember that night those girls turned up?
Eddie: No.
Richie: Yeah, it was a shame, wasn't it? Mind you, they bloody nearly did.
Eddie: I think your mistake, Richie, was in turning out the lights on the steps and shouting out "Grab hold of this, it's the banisters."
Richie: Worth a try, Eddie, worth a try. Hhhrrrrrrgh! Great days.
Eddie: No they weren't.
Richie: No, they weren't, were they? [sighs] Well you have to say that, don't you? Come on, hhhrrrrgh, great days!
Eddie: [limply] Rrrr, great days.
Richie: Yes they were! Ha, come on, let's go out!
Eddie: I though we were playing chess, Mr. Bond?
Richie: Oh, yes, of course. Chess, wonderful chess. Ha-haaa. Hey, did I ever tell you about that time my great-uncle Roderick drowned in the Ugugu River?
Eddie: No.
Richie: Oh good, it's rather embarrassing. Hoh! Right, let's get on. Ooh, I feel great, bbrr, let's have a dance, ho-hoo, ho-hoo...
Eddie: Richie, sit down! You're getting over-excited.
Richie: Oh! Yes, right. Yes, of course. Ha, hrr, ha, hmm, sit down, yeah, hm, good idea. Hm, ahh. Okay. This is it. Everything's ready. Are you ready Eddie?
Eddie: Yep.
Richie: Right, all set.

[Eddie reaches out to move.]

Richie: Ooh, one more thing?
Eddie: What?
Richie: How do you actually play chess?
Eddie: You don't know how to play chess.
Richie: Well, no. Ah-ha. But I know how to ride a bike so I'm sure I'll pick it up pretty quick, you know. Just tell me which pieces are mine and which way around the board we go. Do we get any money or anything?

[Eddie sighs and puts his head in his hands.]

Scene 2. The Flat, Later.
-------------------------

Richie: Right. Let's just go through the rules one more time and then we can start properly.

[Eddie sighs heavily.]

Richie: Now how does the racehorse move again?
Eddie: It's not a racehorse, it's a knight.
Richie: Where's the knight then?
Eddie: Well he must have fallen off.
Richie: He's not much of a knight then, is he?
Eddie: Look, just put it back please.
Richie: All right, all right... And that one's called a rook.
Eddie: Yes.
Richie: Why, does it nest in trees?
Eddie: No, it's a castle.
Richie: But it's called a rook.
Eddie: Yes, some people call it a rook.
Richie: Well which people? Blind ones?
Eddie: [thinks] Yes.
Richie: Oh I see, I see, right. ...But the castle can move, you say?
Eddie: That's right.
Richie: Even though it hasn't got any legs.
Eddie: Yes.
Richie: Pfft, hahaha. It's not very likely, is it Eddie. [holds up a sausage] And this, this is also a bishop, you say.
Eddie: Yes.
Richie: And he bends sideways.
Eddie: Correct.
Richie: Well, there's no surprise there. Wonder what the Church is coming to these days. Right, let me get this sorted out. Now the bent vicar stands next to the queen. [holds up cactus with crown] And the queen goes in every direction.
Eddie: That's right.
Richie: And they let children play this, you say? I mean, it's pretty strong stuff, isn't it Eddie? You know, knights taking prawns, and apparently if a prawn goes all the way he turns into a queen!
Eddie: Shut up Richie and play the game!
Richie: Okay, okay, let's go. [Eddie sighs] Hey, I know! Let's pretend that I'm James Bond, right, and you're, you're one of the baddies, you know, Q or whoever, and if I lose I have to die.
Eddie: [looks up] Fair enough.
Richie: Yeah, great. Yeah, we should have loads and loads of birds around the place, you know, all like Ursula Andress, you know, and everyone's in bikinis. Ah, I'll tell you what, shall I get some of my magazines out?
Eddie: Richie! I've been here since ten o'clock last night. It's now five o'clock in the morning. We've finished off the Pernod, the ouzo, the Old Spice, even the industrial strength floor cleaner. Three litres of it. I've explained the rules of chess to you one hundred and twenty-four times, and I'm buggered if I'm going to let you delay the game another ten minutes while you scan though a few back copies of Amateur Photographer! Okay? Right. King's prawn to king's prawn four.

[He slams his hand down on the clock at the side of the door, smashing it
flat.]

Richie: Why d'you have to do that?
Eddie: Shut up, it's your move!
Richie: My move? Okay.

[Richie studies the board as if sizing up and opponent, moving back and walking from side to side. He walks out of the door and comes back in through the other door, still pondering. He sits back down at the table.]

Richie: Yes... yes... Am I black or white?
Eddie: You're black!
Richie: Oh.
Eddie: You're those ones there!
Richie: Oh right.
Eddie: The ones in next to you!
Richie: Right.
Eddie: Now make your move!
Richie: All right, all right, don't hustle me. I know your tactics. [to himself] Okay, right, this is it. What would Napoleon do? Lose the battle of Waterloo, that's no good to me. Right, this is it, only one thing for it. Attack! Attack! Attack! Over the top lads! Charge! [machine-gun noise] Argh, I'm hit! Oh, oh, get him back! No, leave me here. Oh, my arms and legs have come off. Oh, oh the blood! Oh the horror! I'm getting out of here. Shoot that prawn! [shot noise] Arrrrghhh! Right, everybody, follow me. Du-du-du-du-daa. I can't follow you, I'm a bishop, I have to go sideways. Du-du-du-du-aaarrhhgh! [machine-gun] Hurray, it's the Queen's Own Ketchup!

[Richie squirts ketchup out of the plastic tomato over the board, making machine-gun and explosion noises. He notices Eddie watching him and his noises become more uncertain and die away. He puts the tomato down, hits the flattened clock, and gestures.]

Eddie: That's your move, is it?
Richie: Yep. Get out of that one, Rommel.

[Eddie looks at the board and sighs. He picks up his queen, moves it to the side of the board, then forward, then back, dancing it all around the board, and then gathers up all the pieces and sweeps them towards himself.]

Eddie: Check-mate.

[Richie punches him. Eddie falls backwards off his chair. The chess pieces
fly out of his arms. He staggers to his feet and pushes the table over. Its
edge lands on Richie's toes.]

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