SCENE, KENT MATERNITY HOSPITAL, DATE 27TH Jan 1971
EXT, IT’S RAINING, SNOWING, HAILSTONES THE SIZE OF GOLFBALLS, THUNDER AND LIGHTNING, A FORCE TEN GALE IS BLOWING ACROSS THE CAR PARK. AN AMBULACE PULLS UP OUTSIDE THE MAIN DOORS; INSIDE THE AMBULANCE WE HAVE MR AND MRS STOCKBRIDGE. MRS STOCKBRIDGE (MUM) IS ABOUT TO GIVE BIRTH, SHE IS IN A LITTLE DISCOMFORT.
MUM: Arghhhhh! Arghhhhh! Get this f**king lump out of me now!
NURSE: There, there Mrs Stockbridge, soon have you inside, just keep calm.
MUM: F**k calm! Just pull the f**ker out! Now!
NURSE: Perhaps you’d like to hold your wife’s hand Mr Stockbridge.
DAD: Bollocks! I’ve done my bit. You hold her f**king hand.
CUT TO DELIVERY ROOM.
MUM: Arghhhhh! What are you waiting for? Release me from this burden!
DAD: Stop whining woman, moan, moan f**king moan, that’s all she ever does.
NURSE: The passage isn’t quite wide enough yet Mrs Stockbridge, two more minutes.
DAD: Pull out of her arse then, that’s wide enough.
MUM: It’s not as wide as your f**king mouth! Arghhhhh!
NURSE: Really Mrs Stockbridge, I must insist you tone your language down.
MUM: F**k off! Bitch.
NURSE: Right! I think we’re ready...yes, here it comes, I can see the head.
DAD: Is it a boy or a girl?
MUM: It’s a head you dipshit, if it’s a boy, it’ll have a dick hanging off it like it’s f**king father. Arghhhhh!
NURSE: Nearly there now...it’s a girl.
DAD: A f**king girl, daft cow can’t get anything right.
THE NURSE HOLDS CHARLEY BY THE FEET, CHARLEY IS PLEASED TO BE OUT AT LAST.
CHARLEY: Hello everyone, fancoo...err what’s that?
NURSE: That’s your father.
CHARLEY: Aww, can’t that nice man in the corner be my father? He’s lovely.
THE NURSE SLAPS CHARLEY’S ARSE.
CHARLEY: Oww! F**king bitch! What was that for?
CHARLEY NUTS THE NURSE, THE NURSE FALLS TO THE FLOOR, SHE’S OUT COLD.
DAD: There was no need for that.
CHARLEY: You should talk, for the last 6 months you’ve been knocking me senseless with that thing.
POINTS TO HIS CRUTCH
MUM: He won’t be doing it again, you ever come near me with that and I’ll chop it off mister.
CHARLEY: So you must be my mother, aww, must you? Your taste in music is shit! And judging by him, so is your taste in men.
DAD: I suppose we’d best give it a name.
MUM: I think I’ll call her Charlene.
CHARLEY: Yuk! My friends will call me Charley; you may call me Miss Charlene. Now if you don’t mind, I’m fooking starving so get your baps out bitch. Fankoo!
You know my parents so well. 
