Another one from the Funeral Parlour!
Bones & Ashe Part 2 - A Bit Of D.I.Y.
EXT – DayBusy High Street
EDDIE and BUTCH park their large black Ford Transit outside a ‘shop’. Peering through the vehicle’s window they read the sign over the door that says: ‘Bones & Ashe, Funeral Directors. Est. 1876’.
EDDIE: ‘Ere… see this… looks promising.
BUTCH: Yeah… less-go-see wot that geezer can do.
They unwind themselves from inside the Transit, look furtively up and down the street, then walk across the pavement and enter.
INT – DayBones & Ashe front office
The dingy office is empty. There is a small bell on the counter. Butch presses it (F/X TING). Eddie scratches his bum and nervously looks back out of the door they have just entered.
BUTCH: Where the bleedin’ ‘ell is everybody?
F/XSound of flushing loo from rear of premises
Mr Ashe enters, somberly dressed, adjusting his belt and buttoning his coat.
ASHE: Ah, so sorry to keep you. My name’s Ashe… how can I help you?
EDDIE: You ‘andle stiffs right?
ASHE: Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that but… yes… we do indeed provide a service for the deceased and their caring friends and relatives…
BUTCH: Woss disseesed?… like sick?… like needing ur bleedin’ medic or ‘ospital or summink?
ASHE: Ah… I see Sir is a trifle confused… [emphasises the word] d e c e a s e d… passed on… as in (uhm) no longer with us…
EDDIE: Awl rite… Awl rite… we gets the picture. Point is we got one ‘o them [emphasising each syllable] Dee-seee-sed hart-icles that needs some attention…
BUTCH: [picks up] … an pretty swiftly too me ‘ol mate… we ain’t got all day!
ASHE: I see… and may I ask where the (uhm) deceased is now.
EDDIE: Where-ja fink… in the back of our bleedin’ motor… right outside… in a cuppla bin liners… parked on a double yellow line an’ all… fings is gettin' whiffy so we better get on wiv this sharpish.
BUTCH: ‘e was known as Sawnoff Sid, bless ‘im… until yesterday anyway… [muses to himself] good choice o' name that, considrin' 'is current condi-shun... [to Ashe] anyway, ‘e always said when ‘is time come… ‘e’d wanna be next to ‘is mates that's orl-ready gorn before… bit tricky though… ‘cos they wasn’t all laid to rest… so to speak… at the same time or in the same place… so its gotta be either ‘Ammersmiff or Kew for ol' Sawnoff.
ASHE: Ah… yes indeed… Mr Sawnoff had most discerning friends … wonderful resting places … the trees… the lawns … the facilities… some of the best.
EDDIE: Give over mate… we’re talking about either under the bleedin' flyover in ‘Ammersmiff or dropping ‘im off Kew bridge wiv cement wellies… wot do you fink we meant?
Ashe goes pale and faints, collapsing behind the counter.
BUTCH: Come on Eddie,.. let’s get out of ‘ere before we get a bleedin’ parkin’ ticket.
Butch and Eddie leave. A flatbed truck with a crane on the back has hoisted the front part of their Transit off the road and is preparing to drive away with it in tow.
EDDIE: ‘Ere… wozzat geezer doin’ wiv our motor?
BUTCH: Bleedin’ tow truck innit… goin’ orf wiv Sawnoff. [bangs on driver’s window] ‘Ere mate… woss yor game then? Put that bleedin’ motor back on the street where yer farnd it-like.
TOW-DRIVER: [making entries on clip board and replies without looking up] Sorry guv… yer carnt park ‘ere… sgott double yellers… takin’ it to the paand.
BUTCH: Stone me! [to Eddie] Fink we got a problem. [to Tow-driver] Where’s the bleedin’ paand then? We need that motor for summit pressin’.
TOW-DRIVER: Richmond an’ onnabit… Uv-ver side of the river, juss-over Kew Bridge.
Butch and Eddie simultaneously do a double take as the significance of the pound's location dawns on them. After a beat:
EDDIE: [to Tow-driver] Rite-mate… bleedin’ move over, weeze goin’ wiv yer.
Butch and Eddie jump into the tow truck cab either side of the driver, compressing him into the centre of the bench seat. Butch is now behind the wheel. The tow truck with their Transit attached heads off up the street.
BUTCH: [with sickly grin] Lucky you’se goin’ the same place as us innit mate…
TOW-DRIVER: Snot-rite… I cood lose me soddin’ license wiv the paand… snot allowed takin’ passengers… smor-than me-jobs-werf…
EDDIE: [menacingly] Shutit! Jus’ sit quiet-like and enjoy the bleedin’ view. [to Butch] You know where you goin’?
BUTCH: ‘Course… been there loadsa times, cuppla-miles up ‘ere I fink. Watch out! Speed bumps!
The tow truck with the Transit attached behind it lurches across a succession of speed bumps. The rear doors of the Transit fly open and two bulky plastic wrapped packages roll back off the tailboard and thud down to the street, bounce twice and land in a builder’s skip, unnoticed by those in the cab. Ten minutes later Butch, Eddie (and the unfortunate tow truck driver) arrive at Kew Bridge and park in the middle. It is now dusk. Eddie and Butch jump out and head to the rear of their Transit van. They see that the doors are hanging open and Sawnoff has gone:
EDDIE: Bleedin’ ‘ell… Sawnoff’s dunna-runna!
BUTCH: (peering inside the back of the Transit) Where’d ‘e go then. Musta lorst ‘im somewhere between Kew an' ‘Ammersmiff… [a beat] ‘Ere… 'ang on a minute…
It slowly dawns on Butch and Eddie that their dilemma over where to dispose of Sawnoff may have been solved fortuitously.
BUTCH: Lord luvva-duck… the old sod's parked 'imself right between ‘is old chums jus’ like ‘e wanted! [shouts to Tow-driver] You can bugger orf now mate… we’ll come an’ get our motor tomorra. [to Eddie] Right… that’s that then… fancy a pint Eddie?… 'sbeen a bleedin' ‘ard day!
