PREVIOUSLY ON BRIT TREK – LOST IN SPACE:
HAVING NAIVELY TRUSTED ENSIGN SCHAPPS TO NAVIGATE, THE CREW OF THE SPIVSHIP ENTERPRISE HAVE CRASH-LANDED ON A MYSTERIOUS ISLAND. CAPTAIN BERK IS IN DIRE STRAITS HAVING DISCOVERED, AMONGST OTHER THINGS, THAT ENSIGN JENKYNS CAN’T SPELL S.O.S. AND THAT ENSIGN REDWOOD REALLY IS AS BATTY AS EVERYBODY SUSPECTED. TO MAKE MATTERS WORSE, THERE NOW SEEMS TO BE A VERY REAL POSSIBILITY THAT THE CLUELESS CREW ARE NOT ALONE.
The Obligatory Polar Bear Scene
[WE JOIN THE BRAINLESS SPAFFERS AT THEIR POORLY CONSTRUCTED CAMP ON THE BEACH]
LIEUTENANT TRUSS [RUNNING FROM THE JUNGLE]: Captain! Captain! I was doing my Geography field trip and I saw a polar bear! It was all big and scary and it was doing a poo! Do I get any points for my spotter’s badge for seeing it, sir? Do I? Do I?
CAPTAIN BERK: A polar bear, Truss? We are, so to speak, on what can only be described as a desert island. A polar bear, as far as one can tell, would, alas, usually be found eating penguins in Patagonia or some such place.
TRUSS: But it was a polar bear! It was big, it was white and it was hairy and it was doing its business in the woods which is what bears are famous for doing. I know what a polar bear looks like, Captain, I saw one on David Attenborough. I always watch David Attenborough because it helps me with my homework and it’s not on ITV. I even know the Latin for it – Ursus Polarbearus! And they come from the North Pole, that’s Tyneside, not Patagonia.
CAPAIN BERK: Nonsense, Truss. Alas, there are no polar bears in Tyneside. The poor creatures would starve because there aren’t any penguins to eat!
TRUSS: Well, you see, Sir, they don’t actually live on penguins.
CAPTAIN BERK: Listen, Ensign, we’ve had this conversation before. I went to Eton, you went to some school in Leeds or some tawdry place of that nature. I can assure you, as it were, that polar bears live on penguins. Ask Rees-Mogg if you don’t believe me, he’s posher than The Queen.
COMMANDER REES-MOGG: Keep me out of this Berk, you slimy, little oik!
CAPTAIN BERK: Er, yes, Rees-Mogg. Sorry Rees-Mogg. I’ll do double fagging for you tonight, shall I?
REES-MOGG: Triple, Berk. And be grateful for that, you ghastly, little poverty-case.
CAPTAIN BERK: Yes, Rees-Mogg. Thank you, Rees-Mogg. Anyway, ah, where were we? Ah, yes, penguins. The principal diet of our old chum Arcturus Poohbearius, as I was, indeed, saying. Do you see any penguins around here, Truss? Any at all?
[IN A SCENE THAT SUBSEQUENTLY HAD TO BE CUT FOR ITS SHEER GROSSNESS, IN SPITE OF HAVING WON A GOLDEN GLOBE FOR SERVICES TO BULEMIA ON ITS INITIAL RELEASE, ENSIGN FABRICANT, WEARING NOTHING BUT A PARTICULARLY SHAGGY WIG AND CLUTCHING A BOG ROLL, EMERGES FROM THE TREES]
ENSIGN FABRICANT: I say, chaps! I’d give it five minutes if I were you!
CAPTAIN BERK: I told you the buggers only eat penguins! For God’s sake, Fabricant, put some bloody clothes on and stop trying so hard to look like me while you’re at it, will you? You got Truss terribly confused for a minute, there.
[SCREEN GOES BLACK. IT’S TELLY-SELLY TIME. THERE IS AN ADVERT FOR THE ALMOST LEGENDARY BRIT TREK T-SHIRT. YOU’D BE UTTERLY LAME IF YOU DIDN’T HAVE ONE]
The One With the Big Smokey Monster
[HANCOCK, REDWOOD AND JENRICK ARE IN THE WILDERNESS, SEARCHING FOR MORE SWAMPS TO SELL TO UNWARY PASSERS-BY]
HANCOCK: It really is rather beautiful, isn’t it chaps? I think I was having a particularly good day when I created the Heavens and the Earth.
JENRICK: Yes! Such scenery could easily triple the price of any swamp. I don’t think that it would be too much of a stretch to say that it’s handy for the tube, either.
REDWOOD: It would be perfect land on which to grow our own cheese. Why don’t people grow their own cheese, these days? It’s guaranteed to be English if you grow it yourself, you know.
HANCOCK: But we’re not in England, Redwood, unless there’s a really dramatic plot-twist on the way.
JENRICK: It’s still handy for the tube, though. I don’t care if we are in the middle of the Pacific, these swamps are going out at London prices!
[THERE IS A DEEP RUMBLING. IT SOUNDS LIKE THE VERY GROUND THAT THEY STAND ON IS ANGRY. A PILLAR OF DENSE SMOKE RISES FROM THE GREENERY, IT LOOKS LIKE A DRAGON AS IT TURNS ON REDWOOD AND ENGULFS HIM. THERE IS AN ANXIOUS WAIT BEFORE THE SMOKE DISSIPATES AND REDWOOD IS GONE.]
JENRICK: Where the bloody hell’s Redwood?
HANCOCK: It’s alright! I saved him! He’s standing on that rock up there! Yoohoo! Redwood!
REDWOOD [CLUTCHING A BRANCH THAT LOOKS A BIT LIKE A TRIDENT]: Who is this Redwood of which you speak? Do you dare mistake me for a mere mortal? I am Poseidon, ruler of the waves! What brings you to my fishy domain?
JENRICK: Thank God! He’s completely unscathed!
REDWOOD: Fly like a flying-fish! Sting like an eel! That’s the story of my great fishing deal! I’m the Lord of the Swordfish, the King of the Sprats! All those remainers are silly old prats!
HANCOCK: I think it’s actually turned him up to eleven. He doesn’t usually try to rap, does he?
REDWOOD: I’m the God of the Ocean! The Boss of the Seas! I catch fish in Berkshire and I grow my own cheese!
JENRICK: I never knew that cheese plants actually worked.
HANCOCK: Oh, yes, I’m sure they do. Why else would they be called cheese plants? I think he’s getting worse, he’s ripped his shirt off and is posing like a Victorian boxer.
JENRICK: My God! Those muscles are like knots in cotton, only smaller.
REDWOOD [GYRATING WILDLY]: I rule all the cod and I rule all the bass! You mess with my fish, I’ll stick a cap in yo’ ass! I rule the waves and I waive the rules, I spend your taxes and treat you like fools! Go Johnny! Go Johnny!
HANCOCK: I think you’d better set your phaser to stun, Jenrick.
JENRICK: Do we have to use stun? Oh, very well.
REDWOOD: I’m the bad-ass boy from Berks and Bucks. If you don’t like it, I don’t give no …
[JENRICK STUNS REDWOOD]
HANCOCK: There, I’ve stunned him! There’s still some smoke coming out of that bush, though.
JENRICK: Cripes! It’s the smoke monster!
HANCOCK: Oh my God! What are we going to do? Help! Help!
[THERE’S AND A DISHEVELLED FIGURE APPEARS. IT IS COMMANDER GOVE CLUTCHING A STRANGE PIECE OF GLASSWARE AND A LIGHTER]
HANCOCK: Ha! I told you there wasn’t a smoke monster, Jenrick. It was just Gove having a toot on his crack pipe, just like I said it was all along! Hang on a minute! Do you mean to say you spent two and a half days watching me try to get a fire started when you had a lighter in your pocket, Gove?
GOVE: Only in a limited and specific way, old chap. Rather a hoot, don’t you think? He-he, you should wait ’til you see my material for the next manifesto. It’s comedy gold!
[SCREEN GOES BLACK. IT’S ANOTHER SODDING AD-BREAK]
Please help The Daily Distress to provide an infinitely more factual alternative to The Daily Express by making your next Amazon purchase via this link. It helps us keep our content free and undictated by swivel-eyed lunatics.
The Wild Woman of the Woods
[GOVE, HANCOCK, JENRICK AND REDWOOD BEGIN TO MAKE THEIR WAY BACK TO THE BEACH, REDWOOD HAS RECOVERED]
REDWOOD: Well, the great thing about fish, you see, is that you can grow them on any old allotment. They’re pretty easy once you get the hang of it. The halibut, you see, just loves the British climate, on a particularly damp day, they can grow to anything up to three and a half-yards.
HANCOCK: Thank God you’re back to normal, Redwood. Now please shut-up, I think I heard something over there.
[A BULLET FLIES PAST HIS EAR AND EMBEDS ITSELF IN A NEARBY TREE. A SEMI-HUMAN FROM EMERGES FROM A THICKET]
GOVE: Blimey! It’s former-Commander Widdecombe! What are you doing on the island?
WIDDECOMBE: I’ll ask the questions, Gove! [SHE FIRES A SHOT WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS FEET] Are you here for my precious?
GOVE: I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about, I’m afraid. [SHE FIRES ANOTHER SHOT]
WIDDECOMBE: My precious! My precious! I’ll ask you a riddle. What have I got in my pocketses, Gove?
GOVE: Er, I don’t know. Lice? Dandruff?
WIDDECOMBE: No, fool! I’ve got my precious! Would you like to see my precious?
GOVE: Well, I’m not entirely sure that I would … [ANOTHER BULLET IS LOOSED AT HIS FEET] … as in, yes, I’d love to, if that’s quite alright with you.
WIDDECOMBE: I’ll show you but you have to promise not to throw it into a firey mountain.
GOVE: Oh, yes, we promise not to throw it into a firey mountain, don’t we chaps? Chaps? [THE ‘CHAPS’ HAVE WISELY SCARPERED]
WIDDECOMBE: Here it is! Here’s my precious!
[SHE PULLS OUT A CRUMPLED AND SNOT-ENCRUSTED UNION JACK HANDKERCHIEF. IT WAS MADE IN CHINA, OF COURSE]
GOVE: Er, yes, very nice. What is it exactly?
WIDDECOMBE: It’s a crumpled and snot-encrusted Union Jack handkerchief that was made in China as any fool can see, but it’s got my precious wrapped inside it. Would you like to see it? [SHE WAVES THE GUN AROUND]
GOVE: Oh, yes, absolutely. Please do feel to show me while you’re putting that bloody gun away.
WIDDECOMBE: You will the first person to see this since it stole my sanity. Are you ready for this, Gove?
GOVE: Do I have a choice?
WIDDECOMBE: Unless you’d prefer to be shot, no. Come closer, Gove. Gaze upon my precious. I’m going to show you the benefits of Brexit. [SHE OPENS THE HANDKERCHIEF]
GOVE: It’s empty! Where are the unicorns? Where are the sunlit uplands?
WIDDECOMBE: They never existed, Gove. Only you and I and half the population of Britain know this. We destroyed our country because we were thick enough to believe The Daily Express. We must admit this to nobody! Do you understand? If anyone were to ever find out, we’d look absolutely sodding stupid. Can I trust you with this secret, Gove? Will you share my burden?
GOVE: Well, to be honest, deep-down I’m a little less surprised than I ought to be. You’re secret’s safe with me. Fancy a toot on the old crack pipe? It helps one forget.
WIDDECOMBE: Why not? The damage is done, I suppose. No point crying over spilt milk, eh? Let’s party like it’s 2015!
WILL OUR SPAFFTASTIC SPACEMEN EVER FIND A WAY TO FIX THEIR SHIP AND ESCAPE FROM THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND? WILL CAPTAIN BERK EVER BE REUNITED WITH PRINCESS NUTELLA OF THE CRABS NEBULA? WILL WE EVER REACH THE BIT ABOUT THE ENIGMATIC HARDING INITIATIVE? WHO KNOWS? WE CERTAINLY DON’T. FIND OUT MORE IN THE NEXT THRILLING EPISODE OF TWITS IN SPAAAACE!
