INT: Flat. Del is stumbling unshaven and drunk through the flat, which is strewn with litter and feces.
Del: RODNEY! RODNEY YOU TWONK! Get up! We’ve got to go and sell all these videos down the market!
(No answer. Del swigs from a bottle and smashes it against a wall. He sways and stares at the skull of Albert, still dead, jaw open in a mocking leer.)
Del: TELL US A FUCKING WAR STORY THEN YOU OLD CUNT! TELL US A FUCKING STORY ABOUT YOU DOING SOMETHING FUCKING STUPID IN A WAR YOU WERE NEVER IN!
(The skull is silent)
Del: RODDERS! GET UP YOU DIPSTICK!
(Del hears weeping from the bedroom. He opens the door. Rodney is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling with red eyes, crying hysterically. Del starts to scream, and they both scream and cry loudly.)
Del: Oh JESUS! We’re so FUCKING POOR! ARGH! THIS TIME NEXT YEAR WE’LL BE FUCKING DEAD!
(He punches himself in the face repeatedly. Rodders murmurs incoherent, babbling nonsense and sobs. Fade out. No credits.)