Before There Were Oxfam Shops
End of season 2 finale. The remnants of the gang, still slightly sunburnt, are back at the outlaws' camp. Much is determined to look on the bright side.
Much (rummaging around in a corner):Well, at least there'll be a bit more wardrobe space around here from now on!
The others, all sitting despondently around the camp, don't react.
Much: I mean, honestly, for someone who's all about being "one of the lads", she doesn't half have a lot of clothes! Why on earth does anyone need this many identical purple shirts?
John (sighs):You know why. In case we have to switch clothes with a guard and can't get the old set back.
Much: Yes, but how often is that really likely to happen? There are eight of them! And nine, ten, (runs out of fingers) at LEAST eleven of these black vests!
Allan (sounds tired, as if his heart's not really in it): Woudn't expect you to recognise one o'them, mate... But they're not actually vests.
Much: What?
Allan: Never quite had the heart to tell her that...
Much: Well, they're going!
John: Don't throw them out. It's a waste. Give them to-
Much: Yes, yes, the poor, we know. (pauses to think) Hey, now that Will's gone, does this mean you get to be the one to constantly remind us about the poor starving peasants?
John: Maybe. What's it to you?
Allan: That's going to be well weird. You talking more.
Much (pulling out a stripey pyjama-esque ensemble): Ugh. Nettlestone can have these. Pigs.
Allan (perking up as Much adds a pretty yellow dress to the pile): Hey, let me know who you give that to, will you? I always fancied getting under that one...
Much: Oh God. It never stops does it? Every single woman on the ship on the way back, including-
Allan: Much, shut up!
Much: Fifi Leroux, the drag act in the cabaret bar!
Allan: I was drunk, all right?
Much (starts singing): Non, je ne regrette rien...
Robin (finally snapping out of his stupor): Be quiet, the pair of you! Hey, that's Marian's!
Much is holding a red hat.
Allan (sheepish): Oh, yeah... Djaq gave me a fiver to nick that off her and hide it.
Robin: What?!
Allan: I dunno... Something about "Friends don't let friends...", then I tuned out.
Robin: Give it to me!
He clutches the hat possessively to his chest. Much is about to open his mouth, but John shakes his head: leave it.
Much: Right, that's the last of it.
He crosses the camp, picks up a bag, returns to the corner where he's been working and begins unpacking.
Allan: Oi! Who says you get Djaq's drawer?
Much: Well I didn't see anyone else offering to clean it out. Besides, my new sarongs have to go somewhere!
Allan: But I don't even have a drawer anymore! (gestures) Djaq turned it into a sprouting tray for her bloody alfalfa...
Much (sarcastic): Oh, excuse me, but I think you'll find you forfeited your closet rights when you started wearing black leather!
Allan (stands up, getting aggressive): That's it! One more word about that and-
Much (yelling too): Just come swanning back and expect us all to -
John (pulling them off each other): SHUT UP!
Silence.
John: Much gets Djaq's drawer. Allan, you take Will's.
Allan (sullen): Fine.
He opens another drawer, and pulls a face. Pause.
Allan: Okay, I'm not being funny, but I've spent six months living with the Sheriff, and that is still the mingingest sight I've ever seen.
John: He's a teenage boy. What d'you expect?
Much (peers over Allan's shoulder): Are those socks?
Allan: Maybe. Once.
Much: Can we give them to Nettlestone?
John: I think one outbreak of the pestilence is enough for this year, thank you.
Allan begins pulling fossilised dirty clothes out of the drawer.
Allan (nostalgically, holding what looks like a baseball hat): The skaterboy phase... Thank god that's over.
Much (sigh): He never really learnt to wear the right size trousers, though, did he?
Allan (holding up something that looks like a mascara wand): What's this then?
Much: The mercifully short-lived emo period. Be grateful you missed that one.
John (growls) : That Fool was a bad influence.
Allan: Oi! These are mine... (he's holding a pair of ye olde CK briefs...)
Much: Maybe he's got some the same.
Allan: Nah, he wears boxers. (The others look at him suspiciously.) Oh, come on, we lived with the bloke for two years! As if you didn't-
Much sniggers. Allan pulls out another pair.
Allan: And these! These are my lucky ones! I've never not pulled when I had these on! That little toerag, he knew I was looking for them!
John: Poor Will.
Much: And there we thought he'd finally got lucky... I suppose we should have known the pigeons weren't his first choice.
Allan: Shut up.
John: You never know. He might come back one day.
Much (picking up Djaq's yellow dress again): Tell you what, I'll save this for you, shall I?
Allan: I said shut it!
The others walk away. Much is humming.
Much (undertone): Non, je ne regrette rien!
End credits roll. .