The segment opens with a downward shot into the Mucky Dip, the greenish glow discernible even under the bright studio lights. The scene then cuts to Sian, stood in front of the vat.
Sian: Welcome to the concluding part of this week’s Comeuppance, with me, Sian Welby! Thank you to everyone who cast their vote on this important matter. The polls are of this moment closed, so please do not call; it won’t count and you may still be charged.
Sian wanders over to the desk where Professor Thimbleswick-Watson is sitting.
Sian: We’re pleased to be joined by polling expert Professor Penelope uh… Thingy-Watson, who is staking her reputation – not to mention her cleanliness – on the outcome of tonight’s vote. Professor, what reaction has there been to the midway scores?
Thimbleswick-Watson: Not a good one in the financial markets – shares in spam companies getting absolutely hammered. However the National Union of Teachers has just issued a statement welcoming Mrs Pascal’s trailing position.
Sian: We’re still verifying the final result, but I’m hearing in my ear that turnout is towards the low end of the range we’ve experienced on Comeuppance. What effect could that have?
Thimbleswick-Watson: It means there’s more scope for fluctuations. Or to put it another way, the scores might have changed significantly since half-time.
Sian: Mmmm, let’s hope it doesn’t upset your predictions [taps the front of her dress], else it could be Thank You Desk time very shortly!
T-W gulps. Sian crosses the stage to the cage area.
Sian: Hear that, ladies? Thimblethingy says there could be a big change in the scores!
Trudi: It’s going to be Judi. That’ll wipe the smile off her face!
Judi: You’ll be eating your words, sis, and a lot more besides!
Mrs Pascal: Quiet you two!
Sian: Well it’s time to find out; the final verification is complete!
The lights fade, leaving only the glowing muck and three isolated spotlights on the nerve-wracked contestants.
Sian: The people have voted, and this is their verdict:
Mrs Pascal sighs with relief. The faces of the identical twins diverge in expression.
Judi: Yes!! [clenches fists with delight] Ha ha, yes!
Trudi: I don’t agree with this result! I demand a second vote!
Sian: Second vote?! The people have already spoken – loud and clear. Take her away!
The guards yank open the cage door and haul Trudi over to the waiting chair.
Sian: You might want to take your specs off, Trudi… ok, you’re keeping them on. Good luck with that.
While Judi does a celebratory dance in her cage, Sian unlocks the door to Mrs Pascal’s.
Mrs Pascal: I’ve had a fantastic time thanks.
Sian: Thank you for taking part. I trust it’s all the more fantastic that you’re not going anywhere near the Mucky Dip.
Mrs Pascal: [grinning] Sian, I haven’t been this satisfied since Andrew Wiles proved Fermat’s Last Theorem in 1994!
Sian: You need to get out more. Anyway, you get a Jammy Dodger trophy to keep on your desk and let the kids know who’s boss. Though having seen you in action tonight, I’m sure they already know. Ladies and gents, a calculated round of app—
Mrs Pascal: You’re chewing again, aren’t you?
Sian: If you would kindly walk—
Mrs Pascal: [hands on hips with an unamused expression] I’m not moving until that gum is out of your mouth. We can stand here all night if you wish.
Sian: Ladies and gents, a calculated round of applause for Mrs Pascal.
The audience delivers a slow handclap to Mrs Pascal as she strides off-stage. Sian goes over to a still dancing Judi.
Sian: No such pardon for you, Judi, but the longstanding argument between you and your twin sis is finally settled: spammers are officially more hated than copyright trolls, and she’s about to get very mucky as a consequence!
Judi: I’ve waited for this moment a long time, Sian. [Looks up] Woop, up she goes! How’s the view, Trude?
Purcell’s plaint of portent plays and the scene switches to the rim-side view. The vivid and viscid green gunk, replete with yellow and pink blobs, fills the screen. The camera makes its ascent, meeting Trudi’s shapely bare feet a yard above the slop, and continuing up her shins. Trudi’s pinstripe dress comes just short of her knees. She places a hand insolently on her hip. Her face, when it comes in to view, further illustrates her irritation at the turn of events.
Sian: Oooh, she does not look amused, does she? This woman and her ilk have misdirected millions of mouse-clicks, squandered squigabytes of storage; now it’s time to click the trash button and send her into the junk directory! Can we dim the lights please?
The crew duly bring down the lighting level. The green goo shines eerily upwards, illuminating Trudi’s legs. Sian hands a remote control through the bars of the cage.
Sian: Judi, I’m going to let you do the honours – not because I want to reward you, but because I know it will humiliate your sister all the more! Trudi, on behalf of pretty much everyone who uses the internet…
Sian, Judi and audience: HERE IS YOUR COMEUPPANCE!!!
A beatified expression on her face, Trudi extends her arm and with theatrical elaboration, presses the button. The fizz and whizz of sparks ensue, dazzling through the darkness. A second later the shadowy, underlit figure drops. A luminescent corona leaps up around Trudi as she lands, and a glowing wave sluices over the side as she submerges. A robotic voice intones “Warning! Radioactive contamination!” while the gunge thrashes and churns, sending secondary waves over the rim. Then the cables, unseen in the gloom, pull taut to salvage the comeuppancee.
The fanfare of shame and a great cheer from the audience accompany the emergence of a luridly luminous blob – a mishapen and bloated humanoid figure shining like a beacon across the studio – mostly green, but splotched with the other hues, including two pink circles for boobs and a comical dome of yellow crowning the top of her head.
While Judi’s maniacal laughter echoes from below, the glowing figure flails ungracefully. Eventually one of the hands finds the face and pulls away her glasses, which have miraculously stayed with her during her dip.
As Trudi wipes her face, a rainbow fountain of luminous jetlets (at least two dozen) erupts from the rim of the Mucky Dip, all aimed inward. Trudi is engulfed in a spectacular display of light and colour.
Sian: Ohh wow!! How amazing is that!?
Eventually the fountain abates, leaving Trudi a multicoloured mess.
Sian: Absolutely sensational! Maybe we should have the lights up now.
The lighting returns, causing fresh fits from Judi at the sight of her sister in all her gunged glory. Trudi’s head-to-toe covering is a good inch thick, but its translucence allows her to be seen underneath it. Her hair hangs bedraggled and wrecked, and the muck has evidently filled the inside of her dress as thoroughly as it has coated the outside.
Judi continues to cry with laughter. A glob of goo, slung by Trudi, splatters against the bars of the cage.
Sian: OI!! That could’ve hit me! You can have another shower for that.
The multicoloured fountain resumes, causing Trudi to cower and squeal.
Sian: Another comeuppance served, richly deserved as always. And for those who wanted a clearer view as she went in, here’s an enhanced video in super slow-mo.
The replay shows Trudi’s descent into the dunk tank, with the video enhanced so that her features can be seen in the darkness. Her hand remains planted on her pelvis as she plunges, her mouth is puckered in a pout, and her eyes fix her jubilant sister with resentment.
Sian: And from above!
Even with the picture enhancement, the bird’s-eye camera shows Trudi as little more than a shadow against the glowing gunk, getting smaller as she hurtles towards it. The luminous goo convulses as she splashes down, globs flying up and away. And then the shadow is gone.
Back in the present, a technicolour Trudi has wiped her glasses as best she can and replaced them on her face. She has slicked the excess muck from her hair, which hangs like a sodden rope over one shoulder. She now has both hands on hips and continues to pout.
Sian: Look at that – well and truly spammed! Now she knows what it’s like to be deluged with junk, ha ha! Judi, did you travel here together?
Judi: Yes, in my car. But with a smell like that, I think I’ll make her take the train back!
Sian: Wise indeed. [Looks up] Trudi, is this going to change relations with your sister?
Trudi: I’m never speaking to her again!
Judi: This just gets better and better!
Sian: Awwww! In fairness Trudi you’ve been a very good sport; I hope this doesn’t take too many years to live down in your family. Judi, you may laugh now, but you could be laughing on the other side of your face next week. As runner-up you have to return, and you may get your comeuppance yet!
Sian walks away.
Sian: And by the way folks, next week’s episode is going to be the last in the series, so be sure not to miss it. But as for this episode, we have some unfinished business. [Stands in front of the desk] Don’t we, Professor?
Thimbleswick-Watson sits looking much more relaxed than five minutes ago, a serene smile on her face.
Sian: Hmmm, she looks rather pleased with herself. I think we could be disappointed here. But let’s see.
Sian untucks and unfolds the piece of paper and presents it to the camera.
The audience groans.
Thimbleswick-Watson: [raising fists] Hurrah!
Sian: [frowning] But this is just a list of names! You haven’t indicated the position each contestant will finish in.
Thimbleswick-Watson: [snorts] Yes I have. It’s written in order from first to last. Pretty obvious.
Sian: No, it’s not obvious at all. It could just as easily be ordered from last to first. I’m afraid I can’t accept this. Lads, bring on the supplies!
The guards approach from either side, each wheeling a trolley laden with buckets. The audience cheers with gusto.
Thimbleswick-Watson: [gawping] Whaaat!?!
Sian: Ok, at the count of three. One!
Sian and audience: TWO!!
Thimbleswick-Watson: This is completely unfair!
Sian and audience: THREE!!
A guard slings a bucket of green slime, topped with a little foam. It lands short of T-W’s head but slaps against her suit and blouse, causing her to spasm and shriek. The professor looks down in horror, but soon has bigger problems to contend with as the second guard aims higher with a bucketload red gunge (not ITV gunge but proper thick gunge). She screams catches the side of her head, ruining her neatly cropped hair-do. In a quick succession yellow gunge assails her other side, and then a batch of blue sploshes straight in her face. The gunge keeps coming, and before long T-W’s hair and suit are blanketed. The prim and proper professor’s composure crumples and she begins to laugh – albeit a squealing, squeamish laugh.
Sian steps in front of the desk. Behind her, the guards have switched from buckets to foams guns, turning the disheveled academic from multicoloured to white.
Sian: She’ll be more careful to be precise in future! That’s all we have time for in this episode. Thanks for watching and join us for the series finale next week; you’d be mad to miss it! Good night!
The outro music starts up. Sian turns and grabs a bucket from a trolley, joining in the offensive against T-W. Over in the cage, Judi continues to celebrate the win over her twin, but her triumph is tempered by growing concern of what she might face next week. Up in the chair, Trudi tries to wipe off the excess muck, but Sian and the guards have other ideas. They switch targets, leaving a bedraggled T-W to slump in relief over the desk, and fire their foam guns up at Trudi, giving her a fresh top-coat of white. The parting scene is of a dazzling Trudi being hauled from the Mucky Dip.