Interior, David Blunkett's flat. David Blunkett is sat in an armchair, eating a pot noodle. His guide dog, Mr. Snuggles, lies at his feet.
Blunkett: I'm bored, Mr. Snuggles. What do you say? Shall we have an early night?
Mr. Snuggles slowly backs away from Blunkett until his rear end is facing the wall. He looks at the camera and winces. *audience laughs*
Blunkett: Mr. Snuggles? I'm going to find you! And when I do, you'd better be prepared for the buggering of your life! Wahey!
Blunkett jumps from his chair, and starts slowly walking round the room, poking in front of him with his stick. Mr. Snuggles backs into a corner, and just as he's about to be found, the doorbell rings.
Blunkett: Curses! Oh well, boy - you can't hide forever! Just let me deal with this! [shouts]COME IN - IT'S OPEN.
Mr. Snuggles looks at the camera, tilts his head to one side, and whimpers. Subtitle: "Phew! That was almost a case of the blind leading (buggering) the blind (dog)!" *several seconds of deafening laughter*
Tony Blair (played by Rowan Atkinson) enters the room. *The audience goes mental*
Blair: Hello, David. It's nice to SEE you! Oops - sorry! Haha!
Blunkett: *sigh* Hello, Tony. I hope this isn't just another excuse to make a load of jokes about me being blind. It's getting a bit tiresome, you know. I realise that you're the Prime Minister, but it doesn't mean you can come round here and take the piss whenever the mood takes you.
Blair: Don't be stupid, David. This is an official visit. Cor - you certainly seem to have a very DIM VIEW of me. Ha! Oops, I done it again!
Blunkett: Why are you here, Tony? I've got some important things to do tonight.
Blair: Like what? Bugger the dog again?
Blunkett looks shifty and remains silent. Mr. Snuggles looks at the camera and barks. Subtitle: "It was supposed to be John Prescott's turn tonight!"
Blair: You know why I'm here, David. I'd like to to turn a BLIND EYE to the things people are saying about you in the press. [pause] Oh, no! Still, it should be easy for you - you've got two BLIND EYES to choose from! Hahaha!
Blunkett: Fuck off, Tony.
Blair: Now come on, David. If you can't laugh about you being blind - what can you laugh about? Eh? Eh? You're acting like you've got some kind of stigma. Oops! That sounds a bit like 'astigmatism', doesn't it! Something which you definitely don't have - because you're BLIND!
Blunkett: You can go now, Tony.
Blair: OK, OK. Don't EYEBALL me, David! Bye!
Tony Blair leaves, to rapturous applause. Once outside, the letterbox opens and he shouts through it.
Blair: BLINDY BEARDY BLUNKETTY BASTARD!
A single, solitary tear runs down David Blunkett's cheek, as the credits roll and the audience's applause almost drowns out the theme tune (Limp Bizkit's cover of 'Behind Blue Eyes')
"A fertility clinic visit becomes an unfathomable nightmare for a woman who's impregnated with the devil's DNA"
SCENE 666. INT. HOSPITAL. NIGHT.
MRS SMITH IS SPREAD EAGLED ON A CRIMSON HOSPITAL BED. THERE IS BLOOD EVERYWHERE. A NURSE LIES TWITCHING IN THE DOORWAY, HER BROKEN BODY TWISTED INTO AN IMPOSSIBLE POSITION. SHE WHISPERS HER FINAL WORDS ON THIS EARTH THROUGH A MOUTHFUL OF BLOOD.
NURSE: Lord, please help us.
A SECOND NURSE CLUTCHES THE DOCTOR AND WEEPS.
NURSE: S-so much blood.
DOCTOR: I know. Get that chap from haematology in here; this will keep us in transfusions until Christmas. [TO CAMERA] Little bit of politics there. [WINKS].
THE DOCTOR SWEEPS THE SEVERED HEAD OF AN ANAESTHETIST TO THE FLOOR
DOCTOR: Good to see Perkins is ahead of things...so to speak...Hahahahaha.
THE DOCTOR PICKS UP A BABY. THE CREATURE HE CRADLES IN HIS ARMS IS NO ORDINARY CHILD. IT HAS THE STRIPES OF A DECKCHAIR SCORCHED INTO ITS FLESH. A HUGE PAIR OF COMEDY GLASSES BALANCE ON ITS NOSE. DESPITE HAVING THE PUFFY SKIN AND CHUBBY LIMBS OF AN ORDINARY BABY, THE CHILD IS OF ADULT SIZE, THOUGH ITS HEAD IS OF THE USUAL PROPORTIONS FOR A NEW BORN - BEING WAY TO BIG FOR ITS BODY. ITS FACE IS NOT THE FACE OF AN INFANT. THE BABY HAS RONNIE BARKER'S FACE.
SATAN: Gurgle gurgle Beelzebubble hic. I want four candles.
DOCTOR: Four candles.
A NURSE HANDS THEM OVER.
NURSE: Four candles, Doctor.
THE DOCTOR HOLDS THEM OUT TO THE INFANT. THE CHILD BREATHES ON THEM AND THE CANDLES BURST INTO FLAME.
THE CANDLES MELT IN A POOL OF WAX, BURNING THE DOCTOR.
DOCTOR: Ahhhh! Arrrghhh! Jesus.
THE BABY HISSES, A REPTILIAN TONGUE SLAPPING THE DOCTOR ACROSS THE FACE.
SATAN: Not four candles....fork handles...for my trident!
HE HOLDS UP A BLACK FORK AND WAVES HIS TAIL IN EXCITEMENT.
DOCTOR: Mrs Smith, Mr Smith...it's a boy.
MRS SMITH: [ALMOST UNCONSCIOUS] Is…is he healthy?
NURSE: I think he needs winding.
THE DOCTOR DROPS THE GIANT CHILD ON ITS HELPLESS MOTHER. SHE SCREAMS.
DOCTOR: It's fine, Mrs Smith. New mothers often take a while to bond with their brood. It's only natural.
NURSE: [UNDER HER BREATH] Is it Hell.
SATAN WINKS AT HER.
MR SMITH: Well, go on darling. Wind him.
MRS SMITH PATS HIM ON THE BACK. SATAN'S HEAD ROTATES THROUGH 360 DEGREES, HE THEN PROJECTILE VOMITS GREEN GOO ACROSS THE ROOM. IT LANDS ON AN INCIDENTAL CHARACTER FROM AN EARLIER BACK STORY. MR SMITH FAINTS AND BANGS HIS HEAD ON A BED PAN, SOME WEE DRIPS ON HIS HEAD. SATAN HICUPS.
SATAN: And it's goodnight from him.
DOCTOR: He's a little devil alright.