The segment begins with a shot from the bird’s-eye camera, focussed in on the words “From Sasha, With Love” written in white gunge. The camera then zooms out so we can see the chair stationed in front of the Mucky Dip, with Sian and the guards standing around it.
Sian: [looking up at the camera] Welcome to the final part of this week’s Comeuppance, where we’re about to reveal which contemptible contestant will be sitting in this chair and heading up there!
The scene switches to the regular camera view.
Sian: Thank you very much for your votes which have been coming in aplenty. Polling is now closed, so please don’t call; your vote will carry no weight but your call may nonetheless cost you.
The trio stroll around to the area where the cages are located. Sian goes straight up to the central cage.
Sian: Not looking good for you, is it Ivana?
Ivana: [cringing] No, but I hope after my appeal people will appreciate the good causes I raise money for.
Sian: [wagging her head from side to side] It’s possible. And Stacy, I wouldn’t look too smug, knowing what I know.
Stacy: [gulping] W-what do you know?
Sian: Nothing in particular, except that there’s been a lot more votes. [Sian stalks over to the right-hand cage] So even you might not be safe, Karen.
Karen just looks Sian disdainfully up and down.
Sian: Ok… I’m getting word that the final scores have been confirmed. Let’s have this!
The lighting goes down, save three spotlights singling out the cages, and the dramatic music plays. Karen stands stoically, arms crossed, feet slightly apart. Stacy bites her nails and fidgets her feet. Ivana has her hands over her face.
Sian: The public have delivered their verdict, and it is as follows.
Stacy pumps her fist and mouths “yes!” Karen responds with only a slight nod of satsifaction. With her hands still pressed to her face, Ivana bleats as she observes the result through her fingers.
Sian: Not the greatest surprise ever. Gents, take that chugger away to her comeuppance!
The guards unlock the cage, yank Ivana out and bundle her over towards the waiting chair.
Sian: [unlocks Karen’s cage] If there’s one thing worse than having to hand out a Jammy Dodger trophy… [walks over and unlocks Stacy’s cage] it’s having to hand out two of the things! Karen, it riles me to say this: your name’s not on our gungy guest-list and you’re not going in! You must be pleased.
Karen: [with a casual grin] No sweat. I knew the public would back me up.
Sian: And Stacy, coming second place for a second time is enough to get you off the hook as well. You can return to Bath without taking a bath in our ghastly goo. How do you feel?
Sian: Well here’s a Jammy Dodger trophy to further your satisfaction. Maybe you can stick it on the roof of your van and say it’s part of your TV-detecting equipment! Karen, here’s one for you to keep at the door of your club in Cardiff. Thanks, both of you, for coming on the show and braving the muck.
Karen: That’s quite alright Sian. By the way, I’m going to upload your photo onto Clubwatch.
Sian: What’s that?
Sian: [snarls] Why you—!!
Stacy: And I’m going to add your address to our investigation list. Expect a knock at the door in the near future!
Sian: Huh? But I have a TV licence!
Stacy: I know, but it’ll be fun to wind you up!
Sian: [scowling] It’s too bad I can’t overrule the public’s decision. Ladies and gents, some half-hearted applause for this dastardly double act!
A slow hand-clap ensues as Stacy and Karen high-five and stroll off stage with their trophies.
Sian: [tutting as she watches them go] Tonight’s result means that we’ll have three brand new contestants facing judgement next week; you won’t want to miss it. [Arrives by the gleaming white plinth]. And speaking of the unmissable, the winch has chugged the chair into position over the Mucky Dip! [Looks up] Hi there Ivana! How you doing today? Can you spare me a minute of your time? It’s for a good cause!
Purcell’s ominous elegy commences, and the scene switches to a camera level with the opening of the Mucky Dip, taking in the lumpy sea of blended blue and turquoise. The camera sweeps over Sasha’s mocking message, then begins its ascent, meeting Ivana’s bare, squirming feet about a metre up. Ivana has fairly large feet for a woman, with long slender toes, and her toenails are painted the same very dark red as her fingernails. The shot continues upwards, traversing Ivana’s jean-clad legs. It then sweeps over her bright red t-shirt, passing that pert, high-set bust that hasn’t escaped the attention of any red-blooded male in the audience. Finally, the camera comes to rest at Ivana’s face. Her full lips pout and her eyes ruefully regard the fate that awaits her.
Sian: Ooh, look at that face, deep in contemplation! Is she mulling the plight of the third world, I wonder? Or brooding over some poor, endangered species? Or might she be lamenting her own sorry arse as it teeters above the slop!
Sian places her hand on the big red button. Ivana closes her eyes and screws up her face.
Sian: Ivana, on behalf of everyone who’s been harassed and guilt-tripped by chuggers…
Sian and audience: …HERE IS YOUR COMEUPPANCE!!!
Sian belts the button down. Around the studio, triumphant showers of sparks explode. The winch releases, and Ivana’s body jolts as the chair goes into free fall.
The squealing girl vanishes into the vat and a ring of blue-turquoise surf leaps up in her place. A surging wave washes over the rim of the Mucky Dip, revealing the true nastiness of the coarse texture as it gloops down the sides of the vat and splatters onto the stage. Meanwhile, the cables trailing into the Dip jerk about, while an unpalatable sound effect, evoking images of an ogre with indigestion, plays. Then the cables go taut and the prey is retrieved from the deep, while the forlorn trombone heralds her humiliation and a huge cheer reverberates around the warehouse studio.
The chugger’s pillar-box red has been replaced with an equally eye-catching palette of blues, but this time not limited to her t-shirt. Ivana’s left side is mostly a rich royal blue, while her right is dominated by a snotty turquoise. Her left foot is coated in white, presumably from Sasha’s script, and there’s a small splodge of orange right on the crown of her head. The gunk is a sloppy, grainy paste; it slithers in thick layers all over Ivana’s body. It runs down her neck and chest into the opening of her t-shirt, dragging chillingly against her skin. Her tight titties are more pronounced than ever, protruding cold and indignant through the saturated fabric. Goo drips from the hems of her sodden jeans.
Ivana’s hair is nowhere to be seen, although a sky-blue crest at the front of her head suggests that her fringe has been swept upward by the impact with the muck. Amid her blue-coated face, eyes boggle in shock; there are even lumps clinging to her twitching lashes. Her mouth briefly gapes for air, but hurriedly closes as the grot drips into it. Ivana rasps and splutters in the chair.
Ivana: Plah! Pleugh!! PLEEEURRRGHHH!!!
Sian: Wow, oh wow!! Stupendous!! She definitely made her direct debit, didn’t she? Oh look, here comes the Gift Aid!
Two mechanical arms descend from the ceiling, each carrying a ginormous pie. The cream has a green-yellow tinge – evidently not too fresh. The spectators cheer and laugh as the pies line up with their target. Ivana, contending with the muck, is the only person who hasn’t noticed this bonus mess creeping up on her.
In a pincer movement the arms swing inwards, sandwiching Ivana like a pair of cymbals. Her limbs flail comically as her head disappears into a huge pile of curdled cream. The audience roars with mirth.
Sian: Oh-ho-ho! Sasha didn’t disappoint! That was a majorly-overdue comeuppance, by huge popular demand, and it’s worth enjoying it all over again in super-duper slow-mo!
There duly follows a slow-motion replay of Ivana’s last clean moments. Every muscle in her body jerks as the winch gives way. The air can be seen to evacuate her lungs as she screams her way towards the gunk.
Sian: And from above!
The bird’s-eye camera shows Ivana’s dirty-blonde hair, the top of her red clad torso, and the blue of her denim-clad thighs as she descends to her demise. She plunges right into the middle of the writing, instantly destroying Sasha’s graceful hand, and sending little pieces of white bobbing on the churning muck as a wave rushes outwards. Globs splatter up against her Ivana’s T-shirt and face, split-seconds before she sinks into the maelstrom. Her hair stands no chance and is promptly buried with the rest of her.
Sian: And let’s have a another look at that pie sandwich!
The scene relives the moment when the king-size pies close in on their victim’s head. Caught completely unaware, Ivana jolts as the rank cream smothers her features. Her arms and legs wave about as if she’s performing a particularly uncoordinated doggy paddle.
The scene reverts to the present. Ivana sits gagging as she scoops the smelly gunge and rancid cream out of her hair and face.
Sian: Ivana, I have to say your new blue uniform suits you much better than the red – you can do your next chugging session wearing it! Luckily the stink will give pedestrians advance warning so they can avoid you! Remember folks, giving just two pounds a month will buy the soap a comeuppancee like Ivana needs to get clean and fresh again! Ha ha ha!
Ivana has little to say as she continues to wipe herself, flicking her arms in a futile attempt to get the gunk off her hands.
Sian: But joking aside, Ivana, you’ve been a good sport. You signed up for this ordeal voluntarily, and we appreciate that.
Ivana nods and musters a squeamish smile of acknowledgement under all the mess. This is promptly extinguished by another robotic arm, which descends and smashes a pie on the top of her head. A fresh wave of fetid cream smothers Ivana’s hair, gloops down her face and splatters onto her shoulders and chest.
Sian: That’s it! Give her another pie! [turns to the audience] And the moral of tonight’s story is that charity is no hiding place for obnoxious behaviour. Of course, there are plenty of good causes out there, and plenty of ways to support them with whatever money, items or time you can afford – without being pressured by the high street profiteers. Thanks for watching and voting, and good night!
The groovy outro music plays. Sian takes position at the edge of the stage, waving as the camera zooms out. There follows a series of shots of people in the audience, clapping, dancing and playing up to the camera. Then the scene returns to Ivana, looking cold and miserable in her sloppy state. An arm descends in front of her with yet another putrid pie. Ivana just stares resignedly at the creamy punishment before it is smashed into her face. The show closes with a slow-motion replay of the chugger emerging – a ruined blue blob – from the Mucky Dip.