Bad Taste
- NOT RATED
- Year:
- 1987
- 91 min
- 400 Views
Hello, emergency.|What service did you require, please?
Hello, quick, anybody,|just get help!
- Where are you calling from, sir?|- Kaihoro, phone box.
There was this roaring noise|and a big white light in the sky...
and then... these...|invaders started killing us!
Hold on, sir, I'll connect you|with the Internal Affairs Dpt.
- No time, they're after me...|- Hello?
What do you think, Minister?
Call a full-scale invasion alert, sir.
I'll phone the forces,|fighters frigates, footsloggers...
Perhaps that could all be|a bit showy.
I think this is a job for real men.
Just stop right there!
Stop!
I think you'd better kill him, Barry.
Jeez, he could be|Ministry or Works...
No, he's moving too fast.
Stop!|This is definitely your last chance!
That's the story!
I always thought you were|left-handed.
No, the head shot's|the only true stopper.
Aw Jeez!
I hope I'm not the poor bastard|that's got to clean that up.
Jesus!
Stick all the bits of brain|in a plastic bag, Barry.
We'll need them for analysis.
No bloody way, mate.|Come down here and do that yourself.
You're the yung-ho scientist.
All right.|I'll be down straight after lunch.
But at least take a blood sample.
No need.|I'll just wring my strides out.
Well, at least we got|one live specimen.
Yeah.
Seen anyone else about,|Barry?
No, the place is completely|deserted.
They're probably all dead,|that's at least 75 people.
Jeez, I just hope we're in time|to save the world.
Well, I just hope you got it right|this time.
No doubt about it, Barry.|I've been watching the skies.
And do you know|what the skies did?
- They pointed...|- They pointed at this place.
Why can't aliens be friendly?
There's no glowing fingers|on these bastards.
We've got a bunch of extra-terrestrial|psychopaths on our hands.
Like a... visit from a planet|full of Charlie Mansons.
They've wiped out|a small town for starters.
It's my guess they'll go on|to something bigger next time.
- Christchurch, Wellington...|- Auckland?
Yeah, well, that wouldn't be so bad.
Well, you'd better contact|the others, Derek.
Tell them to keep an eye out...
for someone who could be|heading this way.
- Who?|- A collector.
There's some appeal on.
There's envelopes stuck|on all the doors...
and today's collection day.
There's something that's|just occurred to me too, mate.
What's that?
That joker you topped a while back.
He might have friends.
I'd keep my eyes skinned|if I were you.
You needn't worry.|I'm not stupid, thanks...
Come in, Frank.|Ozzy, are you there?
Boys, are you there?
Turn it down, Ozzy!
That's elevator music|for headbangers.
Frank! Ozzy!|Are you there?
Yeah, we're here, mate, but could|you use the proper call-sign?
- There could be people listening.|- There's nobody for miles, Frank.
Besides, I don't think|whispering's going to help.
He's got a point there, Frank.
What do you mean, nobody for miles?|I thought you were in Kaihoro.
I am in Kaihoro|and I was right all long.
- They've done the entire town.|- Who's done the town?
The extra-terrestrial low-lifers.
And guess what!|We've caught one of the bastards!
Me and Barry got him|loping over the hills...
just like he owned the bloody place.
Now do you believe me?
Jeez, look, Derek,|just keep him there.
- You got him secured?|- Bloody oath!
Right, now don't touch him.|We'll be there in 45 minutes.
Whatever you do, don't harm him.|No physical violence!
Another thing, Derek,|keep a careful look-out.
- There could be more about.|- There was! Down on the beach!
Hell, well, look.|Don't go near him.
- It's a little late for that, Frank.|- What?
It wasn't me.
Barry shot his head off.|He had the magnum.
I knew it was a mistake|to issue weapons.
We're a government department,|not a para-military unit.
The Astro-Investigation|and Defence Service.
Wish they change that name!
Due to the potentially|dangerous hazards involved...
All right, at least you managed|to convince the minister.
Aren't you interested|in this joker we caught then?
- Course we are, Derek.|- Right.
Stay where you are and I'll give you|an eye-witness description...
of this inter-galactic wanker.
Well, I would describe him|as sort of human-shaped.
He's got jeans|and a blue shirt on.
Christ, he's nabbed|a bloody farmer!
Yeah, but there's something|strange about him though.
Like he's got a screw loose|or something.
It is a bloody farmer!
Is this another false alarm like the|Manners Street Invasion Alert?
How do you explain the disappearance|of an entire township then, Frank?
The Kiwi Jonestown,|of course, that's it.
Drinking beer laced with cyanide|from little polystyrene cups.
Yeah, yeah, OK.|Derek, just do me one favour.
What?
Try not to make him extinct|before we get there. Out!
Christ, what a dork!|How the hell did he get in this team?
Well, this has buggered your plans|for conquering the universe?
My friend, the astro-bastard.|Time for talkies.
By the time my colleagues|get here...
I want to have you babbling|in some extra-terrestrial language.
Now, in case you don't want|to do what you're told...
I could always encourage you|by hammering this cold steel...
into your fibula.
It'll sure poke a nasty hole|in your marrow, mate.
We'll get the old ball rolling?
Now, what are you dirty hooers|doing on my planet?
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"Bad Taste" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 Mar. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/bad_taste_3469>.
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