Heatwave!

 
Enter Comedy Housemate Jay, fanning himself with liberalist literature.

LEE: Gallagher!

JAY: Beardface!

LEE: You're off the phone then.

JAY: Yes. Lulu.

LEE: Sixties pop starlet Lulu, formerly of the National Lottery's 'Red Alert'? What are you doing chatting to Lulu?

JAY: You're not the only one with celebrity friends you know.

LEE: How is the old bird?

JAY: Oh, too drunk to breathe.

LEE: Sounds like her.

JAY: Anyway, where have you been, you bearded buffoon? I haven't seen you in far too long. I was planning to sell off your mucky videos.

LEE: Oi!

JAY: Or build a sizable fort out of them, one hadn't decided.

LEE: I just had to get out of London. The heat, man! The heat! My Gay Brain is melting!

JAY: It is far too hot, Beardface. Do fix this.

LEE: Is there a number we can call?

JAY: Well, that's why I was on the phone to Lulu - but she's being remarkably elusive about it.

LEE: I haven't been able to get to sleep in days.

JAY: Likewise. Lying awake you hear the strangest of noises at 3am.

LEE: What? Why you looking at me like that?

JAY: Oh nothing. I think we have a ghost though.

LEE: This isn't about that time when you woke up and insisted that you'd been possessed?

JAY: No. Not at all.

LEE: ...and the spirits hadn't really stolen your kidney..

JAY: Be quiet.

LEE: ... you'd just got more pissed than my gran's mattress...

JAY: Shush.

LEE: ...and then you tried to pass off whatever that was in your hair off as 'ectoplasm'...

JAY: Oddly, I'm staring at you and for some reason you're still not bursting into flame.

LEE: OK, so what's all this about a ghost?

JAY: Was it you who was up in the night wailing like a banshee?

LEE: No, I've lost my harpoon.

JAY: 'Wailing', not 'whaling', you hirsute fool.

LEE: Oh, right. No. Though I did have some chicken go missing the other day.

JAY: I don't believe a ghost would do that.

LEE: It would if it were a poultry-geist.

JAY: No. Still not bursting into flames. Do try harder, Beardface.

LEE: I reckon that wailing was you just leaving your stereo on during the night. You do have a penchant for somewhat ludicrous music.

JAY: Oh, what's this? It's a call for you. Hold on - it's a Mr Pot. He says he's got a message for Mr Kettle...

LEE: Oh very good. Though I do like what you're listening to now. What is it?

JAY: Some ruffians called The Kaiser Chiefs. At the moment, we're listening to 'I Predict A Riot'. Which almost certainly necessitates a nice hat, don't you think?

LEE: Er...

JAY: Speaking of clothing, explain to me the reasoning behind three-quarter length trousers the youths of today seem to be sporting. Are they long shorts or short longs? What is the point of a finely fitted trouser if it stops half-way between the ankle and the knee?

LEE: It's fashion.

JAY: It's ridiculous, that's what it is.

LEE: And I'm sure it's cooler to wear.

JAY: That as may be. But have you seen the people who wear them? Pallid legs, always pallid legs, thinner than matchsticks, bandying them around first thing of a morning when I've just eaten

LEE: It's a look...

JAY: I mean, would you like to see eight inch of milky-white flesh staring at you first thing of a day?

LEE: ...

JAY: Stop grinning like a Special and get your mind out of the gutter, you bewhiskered idiot.

LEE: Sigh, alright.

JAY: Oh Beardface, it's far too hot for all this. We shall simply have to lie here and boil to death in our own fabulous skins!

LEE: Yes. All that will be left is a slightly tarnished pile of glitter...

JAY: ...smoking slightly, smelling lightly of expensive champagne...

LEE: We could, of course, go wild and take off these starched three-piece suits and opera capes.

JAY: Are you mad? The Empire will fall and civilisation will come crashing down around us!

LEE: Right-o. Just a mad, mad idea. Ignore me.