[phone ringing]
Isobel? Hi, it's Chris Tarrant here from Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.
Yeah, we've got your friend Malcolm here.
[Pickwell] An elementary mistake, rookie.
I have no friends, but I do have a very particular set of skills,
a set of skills that make me a nightmare for people like you.
Hello, Isobel, it's Malcolm here.
My million-pound question is,
is Miss Pickwell A] the demon headmaster in drag,
B] Rose MacWest, C] Andy Murray's mother...
....or D] an angry Scottish chicken?
- [laughing] - [clucking like chicken]
[clucking]
[upbeat music]
Now, Miss Pickwell has gone missing.
She's done a Klaxons and vanished without a trace.
I don't want to point the finger but it seems
Chickengate may have something to do with it.
Mitchell made me do it.
You egg him on.
That boy brings pranking to a new level, right?
The other day he locked Joe in a cupboard,
then recorded him screaming for help
and set it as the ring tone on Joe's own phone.
Can't change it. [chuckles]
Classic Mitchell.
[laughing]
[coughing]
Back to Isobel; the 5-0 have found her car
on the Severn Bridge, Bristol.
They're afraid something might have happened to her.
Well, I wouldn't worry.
They've stopped burning witches.
Even in the West Country.
It's a note from Pickwell.
"If you're reading this note, I am dead."
[all gasping]
Oh, my God!
"I am dead.
I've jumped from the Severn Bridge.
But don't blame yourselves.
There is only one person with blood on their hands:
Al...
Alan Shearer.
He is my least favorite pundit on Match of the Day
whose name is Alan.
I way prefer Alan Hansen.
The end."
Oh, wow, she clearly went completely insane.
I know. Shearer's amazeballs on MOTD.
Ironic, too, jumping into a river.
Shearer hates players that dive.
[laughing]
It's too soon.
Thanks very much, guys.
Bloody pigs.
[snorting]
It's a clingy smell, isn't it, bacon?
These suicides don't get any easier.
That's the fifth teacher that's...
[mimics gun]
....since I've been here. Still gets ya.
It's just such a shock.
Well, thank God it's not like poor old Mr. Rawlinson.
[whistling]
I mean, an orange in the mouth is weird, but a papaya?
Where do you even buy a papaya?
Poor little Jeremy Goss found him.
It has been a battle trying to get him
to eat his five a day.
Fraser, Isobel's position.
Obviously we could never replace her,
she was deputy head of hearts.
But this school needs a Camilla
and that is the ugly truth.
So whilst I find someone full time
I'm going to need an interim deputy.
Someone with people skills, respect from the student body,
a feminine touch.
- Miss G, you're hired. - Oh, wow, me?
- Me? - Bullshit.
Re: interviewing for the permanent Deputy Head role,
I'm going to need another set of eyes.
Rosie, you'll be busy interim-ing.
- Alf? - Yeah, fine.
I guess it is quite important that we find
a permanent replacement pretty pronto,
before the power corrupts you.
Now, what to tell the kids about this mess?
We should tell them the truth.
But suicide can be very distressing.
Let's tell the children a little white lie,
so as not to upset them.
And then the bear
just ripped her face off, with one swipe.
Bloodbath.
Face everywhere.
The paramedic found her eyebrow up a tree.
In other news, tomorrow is Morocco Day.
This fez-tival has to be tagine to be believed! Thank you.
[sobbing]
[creepy laughter]
[distorted sound]
[Pickwell] There is only one man with blood on his hands.
Alfie Wickers.
[creepy laughter]
[Joe] Help, help! Let me out. I'm afraid of the dark.
Seriously, please don't leave me in here.
Can you please tell me how to change this ring tone!
[laughing]
Haven't you finished that yet, babe?
I can't.
I'm just too upset about Pickwell.
Oi, Pineapple Studios, wanna know what happens at the end?
- If you dare-- - The boy and the girl both--
[screaming]
- What happened? - Nothing.
You look well scared, sir.
Did you see your in-grown penis again, sir?
History. History's all about dead people, so, hypothetically,
do you think that ghosts exist? They don't, right?
I believe that when we die, we go to Liverpool.
Yeah, only if you've done some messed up shit.
Trust us. All the dead people talking through Derek Acorah
always have Scouse accents.
[Rem Dogg] I thought I seen a ghost once,
when I was having a sleep-over at Mitchell's house.
Turned out it was just his mum in her nighty trying to haunt my cock.
Just 'cause your mum looks like someone drew eyes on a scrotum.
I heard your gyppo mum does palm readings with a happy ending.
- Oh, do one. - Enough.
Someone's died.
Can we just give it a little respect?
Thank you, Jing.
Although, I did also hear that about Mitchell's mum.
Do you think Miss Pickwell's gonna come back as a ghost?
What? What? No.
Why would you say that?
Joe, you don't believe in this ghost nonsense?
Well, I thought I did,
'cause this one night, my room went really cold.
And?
Turns out I just left my fridge door open.
Oh...
You have a fridge in your room?
Only for essentials, like water, cheeses, pulled pork.
Okay, so say someone did see a ghost, hypothetically...
...what does it want from me?
To put its unquiet spirit at rest.
Right, in that film where Jing walks out the telly.
Oh, you can watch scary movies now?
The boy who cried in Toy Story 3.
Didn't cry! I had something in me eye.
Why do I give a shit if Andy's going to college?
Why did he have to leave Woody behind?
Rem Dogg's right. If you wanna make your peace with Pickwell, sir,
you should put on the most shamazing memorial ever.
We can make it just like Whitney's!
Hashtag "Queen of the Night."
You think that would work? If making my peace with Pickwell's unquiet spirit
is what I wanted to do, hypothetically.
- Deffo. - Okay, right, well,
obviously, I'm not being haunted by Pickwell,
but let's put on a memorial anyway.
Why do you even care, sir? Pickwell was a right bitch!
Shhh. She might be listening.
[Stephen] Black velvet drapes, people.
We need it looking like Phantom by break.
Oh, and I want doves.
Aren't doves for weddings?
Black doves, babes.
I've never been to a funeral before,
but at WWE Survivor Series, right,
the Undertaker comes out of a coffin,
choke-slams Randy Orton, and then finishes him off
with a tombstone pole driver.
Why don't we just do that?
I mean, the reasons are literally endless.
Can you just sort out the flowers, please?
What do I know about flowers?
I swear your sister once sold me some roses
at the traffic lights.
Whatever, Dickers, she's got a proper job now.
Hmm, holds a bucket while daddy washes the windscreens. LOL!
Rem Dogg is asking the art department about Pickwell's portrait.
Great. Can you tell them to go easy on the whole
menopausal child-catcher vibe?
I'll find a picture of her smiling.
Good luck, that's like trying to find a picture of sir
watching One Direction without a boner.
Yeah, or a picture of you with your real dad.
Guys, chillax! Music-wise, memorials scream "Candle In The Wind."
Ah, perfect. Download an Elton John Best Of.
We're gonna needs loads of emotional music.
Ah, like that one from Gladiator.
You know, the one that he has in the dream.
[scoffs]
[singing in falsetto]
Please stop. What is it called?
I don't know. Why don't you just Shazam my singing?
[singing in falsetto]
Oh my God, stop. I'll Google it!
[Pickwell] Alfie Wickers!
Oh, thank God, it's you.
- Hmm. - What's with the hair?
Oh, it's a very practical style.
You do realize you look a bit like Pickwell?
- No, I don't. - Right.
Now, I need you to come in at seven tomorrow for early detention.
Look, I went over this with Pickwell like a billion times.
I'm a teacher, I can't be put in detention.
No, I need you to supervise it.
Well, that's even more stupid.
At 7:00 in the morning, babe, I'll be down the gym,
pumping iron like a lion in Tring Bannatyne.
And I'm hoping you'll conduct this in a good spirit.
I know you didn't get on, but she deserves a dignified memorial.
Oh, I wouldn't worry about that.
[Stephen] Here's the music you wanted, sir.
[Gladiator TV theme plays]
It's the wrong Gladiator.
Stephen!
To clarify, we won't be playing that.
Remember I'm planning this memorial, so this can't take long.
Sure. Hey, before each interview,
should I do a short monologue, a few topical jokes?
Fraser, these are job interviews, not Chatty Man.
Fine.
Where did you find all these people so quickly?
- Advert on Gumtree. - Gumtree?
For many moons now I have been
the humble scribe of medieval pornography.
He also plays the lute.
Sorry, you know this man?
Met him at Canterbury Market, selling porn from a barrow.
Mm, egad. The Pink Lance.
He calls himself the Porn Baron.
[chuckles]
Oh, but tarry, fair quent-beaver,
what quim-foolery maketh thy Lady of the Lake wet?
And you want to become a teacher because?
To be honest, mate, it's just not selling.
[page tears]
So your name is Mrs...?
[stuttering]
Phistor.
Fister? Good.
And your first name is--
Gay.
Your name is Gay Fister and you want to work in a school full of teenagers?
On your way out, would you mind sending in Mr. Mark Skid?
Can you tell us why you were
dishonorably discharged from the armed forces?
It was Afghan, night.
I was on guard at the camp gates.
Car charges up. Draws level.
I see a figure in the passenger seat reach for something.
Split second decision.
What would you do?
Shine a torch?
Open fire.
Bang, bang.
Was it the Taliban?
The Sugababes.
They were there to entertain the troops.
I'm the reason they changed the lineup.
Mutya, right between the eyes.
[explosion]
If you don't stop running, I'll hobble you quicker than you can say,
"Very steep, secluded concrete stairwell
in a CCTV black spot."
Mr. Wickers, Mr. Fraser, don't you have classes to go to?
We need to get a new deputy head ASAP.
I liked that man who looked like Professor Weeto.
Dick Brumhole? Right, as I said to him, Gay Fister and Pat Fanny,
you can't teach in a school with a name like that.
The kids would destroy them.
In that case, don't go bat-shoot cray,
but I'm going to ask Miss Gulliver
to apply for the job full-time.
[gasping]
[Pickwell] Alfie Wickers.
[wind chimes ringing]
Who put wind chimes in the corridor?
My bad. I thought they'd lighten the place up a bit.
It's very deathy round here at the moment. Are you OK?
Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.
Oh, that's a parental cluster f-word waiting to happen.
Oh, I just heard from the family,
Isobel's funeral is going ahead at St. Bartholomew's.
So we should send a representative, show our--
I'll go. Please let me go. I'm definitely going.
[church bells ringing]
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Sorry, I'd actually like to say some words myself.
If you must.
[clears throat]
Thank you, Your Honor.
We are gathered here today
to remember someone very, very special.
Someone that will be truly missed.
Alfie!
- Alfie! - Not now, Joe.
Let me say this.
Izzy...
[clears throat]
Is he dead?
Yes, yes, he is dead.
But in many ways he is not dead,
because we will all remember
our dear old friend,
whose name is...
...Old Captain Birdseye.
Little nickname amongst mates.
Fishy Fingers himself.
Let's raise a glass, and toast a life
that was tragically cut short by...
Um...
A fight in a pub? A cross trainer?
Milking a cow?
Drink driving! Yes! Of course.
That's how he died.
So let's raise the glass
of water or orange juice, or milk.
Amen.
May the Force be with you.
Hey, instead of me interviewing you,
why don't you interview me?
To prove that I'm an enthusiastic leader
that can take control of unforeseen situations?
Something like that.
Why did you want to become a teacher?
Ah, good question, Parky.
I fell in love with teaching when I saw
that beautiful Robin Williams film.
Dead Poets Society?
- No. - Good Will Hunting?
Flubber. I decided to go back to school
to acquire the skills needed to build a green,
shape-shifting energy source that would help me win at basketball.
[makes bouncing noises]
Mr. Fraser, if you don't give me this job,
I'll be forced to explain to the governors
why Abbey Grove is awash with these...
Queefs of the Nunnery.
- The Knights of Cumalot. - [chuckles]
"As Arthur did up his chain mail, Guinevere was dallying
with a circle of mysterious wizards
from the East, the Bukake coven."
Okey-dokey. Let's talk about your pension plan.
Hmm.
Stop blaming me, Joe.
Fraser said it was happening at St. Bartholomew's.
He didn't say it was happening next Thursday.
You go, I'll take this.
Wickers!
[snaps fingers]
- Get in there now. - On my way.
I haven't got any money, you've already stolen my watch,
and last time you wedgied me I swear you fractured my guiche.
[sobbing]
I miss her so much.
Why did she do it?
Why?
It's not your fault, Frank.
It's no one's fault.
Right, now, you go out there
and if anyone asks you what you was doing,
you say I was in here wedgy-ing you.
Will do.
In fact, wedgy yourself now, yeah, just in case.
I'm not going to do that.
Come on, you know I give 'em better than that.
[underwear snapping]
[Pickwell] Alfie Wickers!
[gasping]
Help, Alfie.
Oh, my God, major probs with the memorial, sir.
Doves don't come in black. I had to improvise.
We blacked up some pigeons, sir.
What?
This is Pickwell's memorial,
not Jim Davidson's.
Oh, my God.
They look like they've been in an oil spill.
That box is minging. It smells like my nan's flat.
I think the boot polish made them a bit poorly.
Funkypigeon.com.
By the way, guys, you look amazing.
I look like Steve Jobs.
This memorial's gonna be so great.
Definitely gonna get Pickwell off my back, right?
Sir, you do realize that it's highly unlikely
that you're being haunted by Miss Pickwell.
I don't know why she'd bother haunting you, sir.
I bet she's lappin' up hell, probably down there now
trying to get Stalin to sign her tits.
Oi, big guy.
Don't be upset.
- We all miss her. - It's not that.
I've lost my phone. My mum's gonna kill me!
It's all right. It's probably somewhere really obvious.
I'll call it for you.
[bird squawking]
[Joe] Help! Help, let me out.
I'm afraid of the dark. Seriously, please don't leave me in here!
Help! I want my mum!
[ominous organ music]
Miss Pickwell made me try harder at the things I love.
Because she was always on my back,
I can now smoke a Vogue in 30 seconds.
I remember when she told me I was in this wheelchair
because I'd sinned in my previous life.
[both] Classic Pickwell.
Miss Pickwell asked me to negotiate for her
during some trouble she was having
with a syndicate of Chinese bookies.
She'd been unable to honor her debts
after losing thousands of pounds in illegal cock fights.
We became fast friends.
[choking up] I can't.
Grow a pair, Rylan.
[sobbing] It's all just too emotional.
Hashtag YOLO.
That's all it says.
We will now all observe a minute's silence for Isobel.
It's beautiful, man.
Stephen.
[♪ "I'm Still Standing" by Elton John]
Stephen, this isn't "Candle in the Wind."
Turn it off!
It's broken!
What the...
[yells]
[pigeons cooing]
[all screaming]
Calm down! Stop pushing.
Everyone make their way to the exits!
Everyone sit down! Please!
Hey!
Oh, that's lovely.
God, Isobel sure went through some styles.
Yeah.
Sorry, for being tetchy earlier.
Isobel dying, well, it's affected us all.
I know. It's weird, you know,
I found her so annoying, but now she's gone,
I realized I kind of loved her too.
It's the Crazy Frog all over again.
No hard feelings.
Come here.
Oh, I better scoot.
Oh, if things get too much for me,
I unlock the art block, stick on Magic FM
and just do something creative.
You should try it.
[man on radio] And welcome to Magic FM, and have we got a line-up for you tonight,
starting with the 60's classic from The Righteous Brothers, "Unchained Melody."
Here we go.
[♪ "Unchained Melody" by The Righteous Brothers]
♪ Oh, my love ♪
♪ My darling ♪
♪ I've hungered for your touch ♪
♪ A long ♪
[screaming]
Get away, get away, get away!
Calm down, Mr. Wickers.
You're a ghost! Ghosts can't speak.
- No, I'm not a ghost. - But you're dead. You died!
- Well, could a ghost do this? - Ow!
- Could a ghost do this? - [shrieking]
Could a ghost do this?
OK, I get the point, you're not a ghost.
But, how? Why?
Well, because I didn't commit suicide, Mr. Wickers.
But do you know how bad that note has made me feel?
No, but I have enjoyed imagining it.
Tarring and feathering Isobel Pickwell
will always have consequences.
Now listen to me carefully, I need your help.
OK, but can I wash my face first?
I feel like I've received a money shot from Morph.
Your little chicken escapade gave me the perfect alibi.
Fake my own death, cash in my life insurance
and get out of this hellhole for good.
Where will you go?
Well, I've got a pen pal in Argentina.
A German gentleman.
I can't reveal his true identity,
but he goes by the codename of the Beast of Bergandorf.
He's a dentist, 90-odd, very courtly.
Yeah. I'm really happy for you.
But, where do I fit into this?
- I need a thousand pounds. - [chuckles] A thousand pounds.
That's like my life savings,
and anyway, why would I give you a grand?
Because you're the only person that wants to keep me dead.
Unless, of course, you'd like me to return to the school?
Cash or transfer?
Done. Money's in your account.
You know, you're gonna be missed.
Even Frank Grayson was devastated.
Yes, most def, most def.
He may have got the idea from somewhere
that he might have a little blood on his hands, too.
[screaming]
Right. How many people did you personally blame for your death?
Hmm. About five.
I like to have a few plates spinning.
You know, see which one breaks first.
OK.
Actually...
Thank you for that memorial, Mr. Wickers. It was...
well, it was quite the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
In fact, I've only ever really dreamt of such a scene
whilst sitting knickerless on my tumble dryer.
Oh, God. Why do you have to leave me with that image?
No one must ever know of our pact, Mr. Wickers.
I trust you, Alfie.
Do not lead the guards to me in the garden.
Yeah.
Phew. Nothing.