The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse (2005) Script

Steve, sorry. I couldn't find me phone.

Hi. Thanks for calling back.

No, no, no, I'm fine. I'm absolutely fine.

Er, listen, I've had another idea for Royston Vasey.

What? No, no, hear me out. I think this might be the one.

All the characters wake up one morning and they've got tails.

Yeah, tails. You know, animals' tails, like dogs, monkeys, pigs.

Y'know, big bushy ones, squiggly ones, swishing ones, little bobtailed ones.

Ones that poke over the tops of their heads.

I don't know, I've only just thought of it.

I just think it's a good way of keeping these characters alive.

I just don't think they're ready to go yet.



No, no, no, I understand. Er...

Why don't you talk to the others about it fir-

Ah. They're all there with you, are they?

Right, then. Well, okay.

I'll speak to you later.

Yeah. Bye.

I made a little brown fish.


Don't go!

Going somewhere local?

Jeremy! Please, it wasn't me, it was the others!

Agghh! Agghh!


Tubbs! Help me!

I'm trying to get rid of this fish! He doesn't want to go!

Edward, what are you doing? He's getting away!

Come on!

Tubbs, did he get the joke with the binoculars at least?

No, didn't crack his face!

After him!

They're not real!

But you're not real!

We are now.

So how old is Jacko now, Mr. Chinnery? Well, nobody knows for sure, Dahlia.

He was a gift from the Shah of Iran in '77 and he was no spring chicken then.

It's essential we get a specimen of his seed before age precludes any issue.

Yes. So what exactly is the procedure?

Oh it's quite simple, really.

A small electrical stimulus is applied to Jacko's rectum, producing spontaneous ejaculation.

Which I catch in this. Yes.

Just, er... plug this in for me, would you, Dahlia?


Chocks away.


Just a little dribble. Oh. All right.

We'll have another go.

I'll increase the voltage a wee bit. Get in close to his,

Get...Get in close.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

Hiya, Mickey, love. Hiya.

'Ey, at least it's good weather for your kite.

It's not a kite.

Well, I've got to go. I've got to see a lady.

See ya!

Come down! Come down!

This is stupid. Why don't we go home? No way, we're gonna win this badge.

It wouldn't be so bad if we could get the fire going.

Keep blowing, boys! All it takes is one big poof.

Thanks very much, Mr...? Lipp. Herr Lipp.

I was out taking my regular constipational. I got caught in this terrible downpour.

I think I've got wood, if that's any help. Erm... no, we'll be all right.

Bitte? I cannot make out with you.

Please, pull back your purple skins so I can see your heads.

Alles klar.

Now, why not let a practised hand loose on your little twigs, huh?

I know how to rub them just right to make them spit fire.

Wait! I was going to ask about bob a job!

I've never known weather like it. It's raining cats and dogs on the moors.

I've not seen such a heavy flow since my last period.

Help! Help!

This man needs help!

Have you fell?

Er, please, you must get out of the car and come to my aid.

You're joking, aren't you? It's pissing down!

Tell him you've been struck by a vehicle and you've got internal bleeding.

I have been struck by a vehicle... I heard what he said. Who is he?

You help him if you're that bothered.

No, I-I can't, you see, because me back's bad and-

Oh, sod it. Get in the car! Get in!

Oh, brilliant! Soaking wet. Just drive!

Go on.

Well, er... Well, there's this lad.

He's not really a lad, really. He's, erm...

He's one of the teachers.

And he's really fit. Takes me for science.

And have you been thinking about this fella when you're alone?

Yes, Reverend.

And are any of your thoughts of a carnal nature?

You mean rude?

Yes, my child.

Yeah. They are.

And sometimes do you touch yourself in a way that... seems forbidden?

I'll take that as a yes.

Now, love, you might ask what harm can come from a young maiden such as yourself being drawn toward this... attractive chevalier, to find yourself opening like a beautiful flower in the warmth of the morning sun, enjoying the simple blossoming of womanhood.


You come in here, getting your fishy fingers all over my communion wafers, slinging your jelly every hour God sends! Go on, get stuffed!

You should be disgusted with yourself! Go and play stinky pinky somewhere else!

Doesn't really matter any more.


What the 'ell's going on?

What's this, The Name of the Rose?

Ah, you've had vandals, have you? I had a cock sprayed on my door last week.

Hang on a minute. This just happened.

You see? It has begun at last.

What's begun?

Oh, there you are. Sorry I'm late.

You wouldn't believe what's happened at the zoo.

Wouldn't I?

I've just realised who you are. Have you?

It's you, innit? Demon butcherer. Hilary Briss.

Alles klar! The one with the funny meats.

You used to put things in your sausages. Killed all them people.

'Ey, I used to eat your pork pies. They weren't pork.

I know, I know. It's all bumholes and eyelids, innit? Still nice, though.

Look out!

These frescoes speak of a time when the mantle of darkness shall be riven by fire, the turbulent seas shall swallow up the earth and a giraffe will spunk up over a load of old biddies.

In short, they foretell the end of our world.

Our world? Don't you mean THE world? I know what I mean.

Please stop talking in riddles. Just tell us the truth.

Very well. There may be a chance that we can find salvation.

There is a way through in this very chamber to a larger world beyond.

You mean Calderdale?


Over there is a doorway to another universe.

I know it sounds far-fetched, but bear with me.

Give yourself up. This is a wild-goose cake!

In here! Quick!

There is a magical key that will grant us access to the world beyond.

I keep it with me at all times. Now, where is it?

Oh. Here we are.

This is the last of the three Keys of Ingress.

Down there! Come on!

I'm gonna be late for work now.

Shift yourself!

Come off it, Reverend.

You can't shit a shitter. This is a wind-up, yeah?

You don't understand. Armageddon is upon us.

Unless we act now, this is our ultimate fate.

All will be made clear on the other side. Please understand, the first team failed!

We cannot afford another fuck-up.

This is Royston Vasey's last chance.

When we go through that door...

Well, now what?

Sit tight and keep quiet.

Oh there's a load of sausages, look! Where?


You're doing the tour, are you? Er...

Well, the others have gone on to the butcher's in the high street, so just follow the road round to the right. You can't miss it.

Splendid costumes, by the way.

Thank you. I like your dress.

Alles klar! Alles klar!

Alles klar.

What's going on? Who are you? What do you want?

Eh? This is my flat! No. Get out, please!

What's all these ornaments? You must leave now. Go, please!

What are these ornaments? Go! Leave, please. Get out!

I've only been gone a couple of hours!

And put them sticks out! They stink!

What is goin' on? Me flat's full of... Asian people.

Something's not right about this.

Hello, Daves.

I've been expecting you.

Are you sure you don't want me to cancel the party?

No, I don't want to spoil your last night, but if you could organise everybody-

Alles klar. You put yourself in my fist, Justin.

Ah! Our carriage...

- All right. There's these three fellas... Yeah. Englishman, Irishman, Scotsman.

That's right, turn it off when I've come on! Do you believe me now?

It's one of those hidden camera reality television things, isn't it?

No. This is reality.

Royston Vasey is just a fiction.

And so these four men...? Are our creators.

Yes. Collectively known as the League of Gentlemen.

Spooky, eh?

There is so much to take in.

And which one plays me?

Him. He plays me as well.

And me.

The point is, gentlemen, our world is coming to an end and these men are responsible.

We have no time to lose. Anyway, I'm sure the Reverend briefed you well.

Eh? Er... yes, she did.

What happened to this one? We didn't push him!

It's all right, Tubbs.

We approached him directly. It was a... mistake.

Something must have frightened him. Can't think what.

You see, this is our problem. We are three of the more bizarre characters.

It's not easy blending in.

There is a lot of prejudice.

The time has come for a more subtle approach.

Edward! Thank you, Tubbs.

The train to London leaves in twelvety minutes. These are your orders.

Seek out the creators. Discover why they are destroying us and stop them.

I've packed you some sandwiches and I also made some fish cakes.

What kind of fish? Brown.


Okay, so... a hot chocolate and four Twixes.

Yeah, that's me. Alles klar. Oh, I must stop saying that.

Erm... a veggie burger and a weak tea.

I'll, erm, I'll just leave it in the bag.

Didn't you get owt? Oh, I'll just have a mouthful of everybody.

I've got room for a couple of your fingers.

So, what have I missed? Here, have a look.

Ohh! Yeah, not that.

Ah ja, I see them. Can you see my one?

Ja... He's slimmer than you. Shut up!

My one's at the computer.

He must be the clever one. Well, mine's telling him what to do.

No, it's my turn! I want to see my one! You're not in charge!

Look at you!

Bickering like infants.

Haven't got a clue what to do next, have you?



If we're quick, we can get on the Eye-wheel.

Never mind the Eye-wheel. You listen to me!

I don't give a calf's kidney about you two or any of those clowns back in Vasey, but I do care about me.

And I want to survive.

So, we're going to do this my way. All right?

Right, he's sitting at the computer, so what's he doing?

Writing? Precisely.

We've got to get that computer.

Ooh, there's my one!

Can I help you?

Oh, right. If you'd just like to sign in for me?

That's great. And are they with you?

They need to sign in, too.

Oh, now he is bloody funny. We have him in Germany, Herr Bean.

That one with the turkey...

Shut up! You know what to do, so get on with it. Make it quick.

Seen Unseen Bean? No, I haven't.

I've got a packet for the League of Gentlemen.

Hang on, just a minute.

Hang on, hang on. There's a £500 penalty for deliberate misuse. Who's paying for that?

If only I could get my hands on a little tool! Got one?

No. I'll go and see if I can find summat. Aber schnell!

Oh, hello, you must be Paul.

This is our director, Liam, our writer, Sheila, and our producer, Brian.

Do please take a seat.

Sign there, please.

Minnie, can we get some coffee?

I asked about two weeks ago! Okay, just a sec.

Sorry. Excuse me.

Come on!

Four whole weeks together? I can hardly believe it.

I know, but we mustn't get carried away.

I know, but I can't help it. Since the operation, I...

Oh, so he's had an operation. He was in a car crash.

Oh, I see, so the pain he's referring to is... Mm-hm.

Right. Sorry, can I start again? Course you can.

Oh... four whole weeks together... Ouch!

I can hardly believe it. Since the operation...

Hiya. I'm looking for summat hard, like a spanner or dildo.

It's all right. This'll do. Just borrow it.

Mine's run out.

I think it's quite a good idea, tails. Excuse me?

This envelope, it's just full of leaves. Oh, dear.

So, I'll hear in two or three days?

We'll be in touch. Thank you.

Nice to meet you.

You're very nice to play with.

Thank you very much. Thank you.

What are you doing? I've just had an audition for a film.

They want me for Terry, he's been in an accident. Never mind that. Let's get this going.

Can I see some ID, please? Well, I-I've got these gloves.

Sorry, guys, we'd better go down.

Nothing wrong with action, Mark. We're not doing a bloody heist movie.

Slow down, I've got a stitch!


It's all here. They've written a film.

Brilliant? Am I in it? We'll have to see.

I've just been up for a film.

We need to copy this file. Got the disk? Yeah.


You are joking. You can tape over 'em.

Oh, God. Any spare disks around? There must be one somewhere.

I usually back up on a five-inch floppy. I bet you do.

Quick, unplug it! We'll have to take the whole thing.

Leave the monitor! How are we gonna read it? Braille?


Quick, get your masks on!

Why am I a pig? Shh!

What's that sticking in me?

The hard drive.

Have you seen me? Yeah.

Get him!


Steve Pemberton?

What did you do that for? He can have it reframed.

Is he still alive? Ja.

What would happen to me if he passed under?

Who knows? Maybe you'd go down with him.

I can think of worse ways to go.

Go and get the computer, you! Quick! All right, all right! I'm not an octopus!

What are we going to do with him? We can't take him along. They'll be expectorating.

We can't, we've got that charity gig.

I'm not doing that. We have to, we've been paid.

They never wanna listen anyway.

At least they'll be laughing all the way through it.


Where's the computer?

Someone's fucking nicked it.

I say we just... cut his leg a bit.

What do you mean? Cut him with a knife a bit.

To prove what? To see what he's like underneath.

It's not The Roswell Incident. He's a human being.

Do you think they eat food an' that? Of course they do!

All right, all right.

Hiya... Mr. Pemberton.

How are you feeling? Want another pillow? Not now, Reece, me head's pounding.

It's funny, actually...

I'm not Reece. I'm Geoff.


That's not padding, is it? It's real.


We are your characters and we've come into your world.

You all right? You seem quiet.

You know how it is, Mr. Shearsmith, mate.

Your eyes look fucked.

Well, I've been licking my candle at both ends, you know.

Well, when we've finished this script, you can go on holiday, can't yer?

Ja, that reminds me, actually. I were gonna say about that.

Um... what did we decide about Royston Vasey?

Yeah, very funny, Steve.

See you later.

Good luck, anyway. Don't get your head bitten off.



I'm home. I don't believe this.

You are such a fucking arsehole prick!

One night since she was born, I ask you to be early and you can't even manage that, you fucking lazy pig!

She needs changing, THIS lot need feeding and putting to bed, and I'll be home at midnight.

Dad! I scored! I scored, Dad! Come on!

"Exterior. Memorial Garden, London. The year is 1690."

Oh, don't read it out loud! It's not even finished.

"We are at a funeral."

"A group of regal-looking mourners are extravagantly swathed in black crêpe."

Depressing! Hang on a minute.

London, 1690? This isn't Royston Vasey.

Where's the one with us in it?

There isn't one.

What? There isn't one.

We're not doing Royston Vasey any more. Sorry.

I see. So, you've killed us off, have you?

No, we haven't killed you off, we just... fancied a change, that's all.

God, don't take it so personally. It is personal.

It's actually really good. Shut up!

What's an homunculus?

Look, we've been doing these characters for ten years-

Ohoho! These characters? All right. You then.

And we felt it was time to...move on.

Anyway, I don't have to justify myself to you. Huh!

Steve! What you calling it?

What? This olden days film. What you calling it?

The King's Evil. Is it like Evil Dead?

I've no idea, I've never seen it. You've not seen it?!

That bit where all them twigs go up her fanny? It's brilliant.

The King's Evil.

Is this the only copy? No.

I know you too well.

Goes both ways, you know.

Delete it! What?

Delete it! Delete the whole thing.

Then Mr. Pemberton here can sit down and write us a Royston Vasey film.

Oh no, don't Hilary, I was just getting into it.

Load of bloody rubbish. What's this?

"A wigmaker, Mr. Ponsonby Snottington-Smythe..."

You should be ashamed of yourselves!

We're gonna change that. Not surprised.

I think Snottington's funny. Mind you, I have got a daft humour.

Mr. Bean, the Carry Ons... 'Ey, here's one for you, Steve.

A Carry On, but with spacemen... Ooh! What?

He's gone! Shit! Stay, you, and delete that file.

Yeah, but... I said delete it!

Well, come in if you're coming. Oi!

"The year is 1690."

"We are at a funeral."

"A group of regal-looking mourners are extravagantly swathed in black crepe."

"The chief mourners are King William III and Queen Mary."

"The King is inconsolable, dabbing at his eyes with a lace handkerchief."

Oh, lackaday, lackaday!

I am melted into sweat with grieving for my darling Hannah.

Come away, Lemuel, come away. Would you have us discovered?

The King buries his favourite pet as though it were possessed of an immortal soul.

Pig interment is but the latest blasphemy foisted on us by this Protestant monarch and his whorish wife.

If a Catholic monarchy is to be restored, we must act now!

What if we were to take a blenched monkey in a wig, smuggle it into the court and then...

No, no, no, no. But the wig is good.

I know. I could fashion me a tonsure in which is secreted a midget.

When it is placed upon the royal brow, the midget will strike, putting out the King's eyes with his little thumbs...

Your suggestions, sir, are patently absurd.

Indeed, sir? And what stratagem have you to offer?

I have hesitated to mention this before.

But well you know, I have certain... acquaintances of a diabolic nature.

Er... we have come to see-

Doo arb eshpected, thir.


Doo arb expected, thir.

Thith way, thir.

Good evening, gentlemen.

Er... let me explain our presence-

I know why you're here, Sir Nicholas Sheet-Lightning!

I know what black and bloody business brings you to the house of Dr. Pea.

If you are cognisant of our plot, Dr. Pea, then, pray tell... can you help us?

Help you...?

Assassinate the Protestant King?

I'm tired tonight. Are you?


I see you had little success with your previous endeavours.

How can he know? You are the very devil, sir!

Not quite.

This is the devil.

But his methods are mine.

So, you would kill the King.

Happily, I have a scheme.

What know you of the King's Evil?

Oh, plenty. I've heard he's horrible... No, you dolt.

The King's Evil is the name given to a senseless ceremony whereby the monarch's touch is said to cure all manner of pox and canker.

Senseless it may be, but a perfect means of getting close to His Protestant Majesty.

Yes. One of us, disguised, perhaps with a wig, could smuggle a baby beneath his breeches.

Said baby... Oh, shut up!

Could we be a little subtler in our technique?

Think of this, if you can.

A creature grown from seed as in nature.

An homunculus.

A demon? No, an homunculus.

Through spells, I can fashion such a creature and cause his skin to weep a lethal venom.

A poison'd man. Exactly.

One touch of this Caliban's wretched hide will be enough to kill King William.

'Tis a fair scheme.

And there will be nothing to connect us to such a plan.

It is magnificent.

But wait, gentlemen, you forget.

To make compact with the Dark One, there is always a price.

I don't know what he's talking about. You each have to give me a bit of your body.

You, clippings from your toenails.

You, a cup of your drool.

And you...

Both of your eyes. What?!

Both of your eyes. The creature has to see, sweetie.

Yes, but they didn't get any... Don't sulk! Moving on.

Aye. Aye. No!

Ooh, yeah.

It begins...

...In a minute.

What is it? What have you done?



Oh. His eyes.

You forgot his glasses.

Help! Someone help me!

Now, where were we?

Have you staggered far? God bless you.

Great God, this is wrong.

To think we have supped with the very devil in our quest to do the Lord's work.

You say that now! Thank you very much! All will be well if we keep our nerve.

But mark you, touch not this monster's flesh.

God bless you.

You get in line 'ere.

God bless you.

That's an interesting canker.

God bless you.

God bless you.

Don't touch it, King, it's poisoned!

We are undone!


I just, er... saved your life.

Right, panic over. I caught him.



"Geoff Tipps, a clever man with a big cock,"

"comes in and stops the king from being killed."

"He is a hero."

"His cock is big."

Oh, Geoff, you bloody idiot!

♪ Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf

♪ Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf

♪ Der Vater hüt die Schaf...

Steve? Shh.

She's, er... she's just dropped off.

Did you have a nice time? Yeah.

What's up?


You've been busy.

Well, I can't live in a pigpen. I have allergies.

I run my finger round all your rims, and look!

So, um... our Sally told me about what's been happening at her school.

I have to say, I think it's appalling.

Did she talk to you about it? Oh, for sure.

In fact, I might speak to her teachers.

They obviously have no idea how to handle titties, er, bullies.


Right, well, erm... I think I'll leave you to get yourself off, and-

I'll just go and empty the bins.


Will you rub my feet?


You're not funny, y'know.

I'm not trying to be funny.

I just... haven't been feeling myself recently.


Come here.

Thank you.

Look, I know it's hard...

It isn't.

I mean... you know, I've been stressed out with the kids, and you've been working really hard, and-

You've been bringing those characters home with you.

That's true, yeah.

Things are just feeling really... good between us.


Um... that reminds me, actually, erm...

I must go and... empty the Hoover bag.

The sack is full.

Right, here's one for you. There's an Englishman, Irishman, Scotchman...

Oh, that's the best one yet!

Imagine, an Irishman in that company! Very good.

There's loads more to it. He's spoiling it. Ignore him. Go on.

Get your gob round another goblet. You're the hero of the hour.

I know. I am, aren't I? You are.

Excuse me, thy ladyship, but, er... wouldst thee like to see my cock?

It's gone bloody massive. When I've had me pudding.

My lords.

Let us raise our glasses and toast our new friend and champion, Master Geoffrey Tipps, who, with great bravery, has saved us from a deadly assassin of unknown provenance.

Master Tipps. Master Tipps!


Come forward, Master Geoffrey.

Kneel before your king. All right.

Ooh, God, did you hear me knees then?

Arise, Sir Geoffrey!

Sir Geoffrey!

Come, join us briefly in our royal chambers.

Yeah, good. I could do with a crap. See ya.

There goes me cock.

What's this? Receipts for my expenses.

You don't have expenses!

You try feeding a family of six. It isn't easy.

I'm trying to get Pemberton to write us a Royston Vasey film.

He keeps his old ideas in the spare room. Find them and bring them to me.

When am I supposed to do this? Hm?

I've got to pick Joel up from tennis, take Sally to cello and there's the baby's postnatal appointment. I'm completely creamed over.

You would do well to remember, Herr Lipp, that you're a pun, a one-joke character, like the rest of us, and if Royston Vasey dies, you die with it!

So you do as you're told, otherwise I might have to employ more extreme measures.

Alles klar?

Alles klar.

I just have to wait a few minutes- Er, yeah.

Lovely day for it.


So, tell me, Sir Geoffrey, what know you of this conspiracy against our Protestant person?

What think you of this popery?


Can't see any, King. You could do with some in here, mind. It stinks.

What you doing?

King, King, there's an old fella in the toilet!

'Tis only I, sir. Tom Tit.


Tom Tit. The night-soil man, guardian of the royal stool.

It's my function to take away your leavings.

I can't go with you looking up me bum!

If I might make so bold, sir, there are methods of easing the passage.

♪ Come out, come out, Reluctant stool

♪ Play not your maker for a fool

♪ Oh, naughty guts, let go your prize

♪ Let's cut this bum egg

♪ Down to size-

Hello? Hello.

"New character ideas."

A clown with leprosy...

White supremacist scoutmaster.

Oh, that's very weak.

Put him there.

Have you done it? Did you get him? Can I have his eyes?


Now, then. Let us examine our prize.

What queer finery he wears. I'm not queer! Don't bum me!

"George of ASDA."

Who art thou, ASDA? Calm yourself, sir.

Enough of this fubsy. I have devices that will loosen his tongue.

Why, I shall play him as a night-soil man plays his poop spinet.

What d'you mean, devices?

Instruments of excruciating torment.

We shall introduce you to... the lady's cuddle.

Sounds nice.

Oh, please, God, I'll tell you anything!

I haven't started yet. Oh, right.

Now I've started.

Aaargh... At least let me take me coat off. I'm boiling!

Where do you come from? What know you of the homunculus?

What is an homunculus?

We waste time. Crush the marrow from his bones.

Okay, Okay! Which one of you's Ponsonby Snottington-Smythe?

He knows my real name. Yeah, I've read the whole plot.

We are betrayed. How know you of it?

There's these three fellas... You jest with me now, sir.

Aaagh! No, there really are!

They invented me, but they're doing you now.

You're not real. You think you are, but you're not.

They control everything.

Who betrayed our stratagem?

I'm no longer concerned with such petty affairs.

Tell me more of these inventors.

I don't understand it meself. I-I can't tell you anything!

On the contrary, George of ASDA.

You will tell me... everything.


Hi, Reece, it's Steve. Oh, where are you?

I'm in Hadfield. Listen... - Hadfield?

What you doing there? We've got this benefit gig tonight.

Just listen, okay?

Oh, Jesus. The characters from Royston Vasey are alive.

Th-They've come alive and they want us to write a film for them, because-

They stole the computer, yeah? It was them who stole the computer-

I'm standing here with Hilary Briss.

Oh, you bastard.

All that rather than spend two minutes of your time helping out a load of mongoloids.

It's true!

He doesn't believe me.

Give it here... This is Hilary Briss.

Oh, hello, Mr. Briss. This is Mr. Shearsmith.

Not you as well, Mark. I'm not doing this gig on my own.

If you want to see your colleague alive, you will listen carefully to what I have to say.

I have some information you may find... very interesting.

I'm listening.

Erm... does your man have some moustaches?

No. Okay, so it's not Roger, Charles or Lucas.

Now, no cheating, huh?

Hiya, lads.

You look very smart. What's the occasion?

It's that benefit gig tonight. We talked about it last week.

Oh reet, ja. I'd forget me own head if it weren't fucked on.

You remember what it's for, don't you... Steve?

Oh, for sure. Ja, it's the, erm...



Gypsies Trust, in't it? I'll just go and get me uniform.

Aber schnell, wir müssen nicht spät sein. Ja, genau so, es ist halb zwei...


Get in!


Come on!

No, no, don't take me back there!

There, that must be it! Oh, no...


That's it.

Evening, gents.

Shall we conclude our business? Let Steve go first.

How could you not tell the difference?

I thought you were staying in character, like a Mike Leigh thing.

What about those eyes?

I thought you were tired, all your babies and that.

Oh, great.

You should spend time with your family. Fuck off!

You might want to change. Yes.

Yes, I do.

Well, thank you for your cooperation.

That's it? That's it. You're free to go.

It was nice meeting you. I hope... Can we just go now, please?

Thank you for helping me, but it really wasn't necessary.

I didn't do it for you.


Welcome to Royston Vasey.

This isn't possible.

I'm afraid it is. And it's all your fault.

It's about time you took some responsibility for your actions.

This is all that's left of a once proud creation, cast aside like a bit of scrag-end.

But we didn't write this! Precisely.

You've been far too busy doing Ponsonby Snottington-Smythe, and in the process, condemning us to this.

Come on out. They won't bite you.

The League of Gentlemen. Extraordinary!


We've put our heads together and come up with a list of film ideas for us.

You know, just to get you going.

"All the Vasey characters go on holiday together to Spain."

Yeah, that were mine, actually.

Imagine this lot checking in on an aeroplane.

And when they get there, the hotel's not finished, no one speaks the lingo...

"One of the characters is mistaken for a gangster by the Mafia"

"and gets chased around with a bag of money."

"A clown with leprosy befriends a white supremacist scoutmaster."

Who wrote this?

Ignore them, they're not even proper characters.

We're not doing any more Royston Vasey. We've all agreed.

Actually... Steve.

No, no, hang on a minute.

There might be a way of doing it. What about...

This is a really good idea, actually. What if...?

Fuckin' hell!

Give it to me. You sightless shit! We need them alive!


I'm sorry! They made me tell 'em everything! They put me in a box with me coat on!

I know it doesn't sound much when you say it out loud.

Who are they? These must be our replacements.

What d'you want?

I have no quarrel with you, my brothers in fiction!

Hand over the creators and there need be no more bloodshed!

Give up the writers? Over my dead body.

So be it.

After them!

This way!

You've got to stop him! He's, like, the main baddy in this!

Maybe we can get in there. Okay.

Get up after them! I must have those writers!

Nay! We will not be twiddle-twaddled about like pawns on a chequer-board!

You are right.

I declare this game... Ended!

Ooh! What were that?

Ooh, you bad sod.

Is Steve really dead?

He can't be! We can't be harmed by our creations.

Incorrect! Frankenstein. Oh, yeah.

Mind you, this is a bit more like The Poseidon Adventure, innit?

Yeah, as long as I'm not that fat one that drowns. What's she called?

Shelley Winters.

That's another one gone, then.

One writer yet remains. We must secure him or we all perish!

Here, hold this.

Ooh, it smells like, er, eggs. Well, they're in it, yes.

Oh, come off it!

You! Germany! Make yourself useful.

Don't let anyone back in this crypt. Nobody!

Alles klar. What are you going to do?

I'm going to rewrite history.


It's finished. Finished?

I have the two remaining writers. Erm...

One remaining writer, and he's agreed to carry on doing Royston Vasey.

Has he? Yes.

He likes your character, Pea, and he's prepared to write you regular cameos as a baddy...chemist if you'll go back to them days now.

A baddy chemist.

I know you, meat-fletcher.

We are kindred spirits.

This place, it's had its day.

Come with me. You know where you belong.

You're right, Pea. I do know.

I belong here.

Then... you... Shall die, here!

What the hell is that?

That, Hilary, is an homunculus.

Go on, Hilary!

And I thought the pigeons were bad.

Get it stabbed!

It's not so easy. The creature seems to be secreting some sort of poison.

I cannot allow you to enter my passage.


Please, if you let me go, I'll write you your own series.

A spin-off, Less of Your Lipp it can be called.

Just you doing innuendoes week, after week, after week.

You're such an easy character to write for.

Am I?

Yes! You've done it, Hilary!

Sorry, I had to cheat.


It's too late, Geoff. I've had it.

Oh, don't say that. You'll be all right. Come on!

It's up to you now.

The future of Royston Vasey's in your hands.

Oh, shit! What can I do?

I think you'll be surprised what you can do. You're strong...

You've got a good heart. I'm not gonna kiss you or owt.


I'm... dead meat.

Well, well, well.

You seem to have something of a task ahead.

But do you have the courage to take the helm?

I thought not.

More fool the butcher for bequeathing responsibility to a baboon like you!

Stand up, hog!

Let us put an end to thy shame.

One last thing before you kill me. What is it, George of ASDA?

A taste of your own medicine.

You, my friend, are F-U-K-T. Fucked.

You bitch.

Right, come on, everybody. Follow me!

Has he started writing? Hilary said he'd changed his mind.

I have. And so have I!

Everyone stay where they are, please. What are you doing?

You'll have to forgive me, I've just come over a little queer.

I don't know whether to take you in hand or shoot both barrels into your mouth.

What would you suggest, huh? They both sound disgusting.

You do realise Steve and Reece are dead? It matters not.

Of course it matters! If he dies, we all die!

Precisely. Somebody do something!

Don't, man, you'll kill us all! I will free us all.

Don't you see? We're already free.

We killed the monster. We've beaten the prophecy.

But we do not have free will.

You will never believe in God or the Bible.

You will never save the life of an animal.

I will never have children.

What is our quality of life if we cannot change who we are?


What about me?

I've changed.

I'm always the big fat stupid idiot that messes everything up.

Don't say owt, I know I am.

But today...

I'm the hero.

I saved Vasey, just like Hilary said I would.

He's dead, by the way. Aw...

I know.

Don't kill Mark Gatiss.

'Cause if you do that, you're not giving him the chance to change.

That's all I ask. Just- give him a chance.

Just give us all a chance.

I couldn't have done any damage anyway, safety's on look.

He's dead. Soz about that. Don't know what happened.

That's okay. I preferred you the way you were, anyway.

So, how come we're still here?

That's right. If he's dead, then surely...

It's a miracle!

Nice one, Geoff. Well done, lad.


Hello, there.

Sir... Sir, we can't find our mummy or daddy. Will you look after us?

Of course.

I would be honoured.


Well, Hilary, it looks like we do have free will after all.

I wonder what he's thinking. Well, he had a terrible fall.

There must be something keeping him going.

Come on, then. Let's leave him to it.