Vyvyan: "We had a front door at the last house."
Rick: "Yes, Vyvyan, but it was nailed to the ceiling in the living room!"

That was in the beginning of the second Young Ones episode, 'Oil'; I was curious how that came to be - and this is one interpretation of it. :) Enjoy.

"Christ!" Rick muttered and held his pillow over his head in a futile attempt to silence the noise. After barely a minute he'd had enough.
"Oh this is pointless!"
Annoyed, he chucked the pillow across the room and got out of bed, stomping out of his room and into the upstairs hall. Beside him a door opened slightly and Neil stuck his head out of the opening. "Hey, Rick, I don't want to hassle you or anything but could you keep it down? I'm trying to meditate and, like, all the noise is making it really heavy."
"Neil?" The pyjama-clad anarchist began.
"Yes, Rick?"
"How can I be making that racket down there if I'm standing RIGHT HERE?!"
"Oh, right... Bye, then." Neil went back in his room and closed the door, leaving Rick looking slightly baffled. Mumbling things surrounding the general theme of 'stupid hippy', Rick continued to find the source of all the noise.

Having arrived downstairs he shivered. "Ruddy cold..." He opened the drawing room door, quite surprised by what he found behind it. In roughly the centre of the room, was a rather unsteady looking tower consisting of the coffee table, the telly and a chair. Atop the dangerously wobbling ensemble stood Vyvyan, swinging a hammer around. Rick put his hands high up in his sides. "Vyvyan! What on EARTH are you doing?! It's 4 in the ruddy morning!"
Mildly startled, the punk wobbled on top of the chair but managed to retain his balance before he fell off.
"Piss off, Rick."
"Some of us need to sleep, you know!"
Vyvyan flicked him the V's and returned to his hammering.
"Rick, hand me that bottle."
"What?" The poet replied, whom had been busy attempting to glare his housemate into stopping what he was doing.
"The bottle of vodka, you girl!"
"Really, Vyvyan! Get down from there! I can't think of any reason why you'd have to nail the front door to the ceiling!"
"Want me to nail you to it instead?"
"Ha! I'd like to see you ruddy well try!"
Vyvyan jumped off the chair with a grin, approaching Rick with the hammer. Scared, Rick started backing up, vaguely hoping he wouldn't bump into something and give Vyvyan a chance to whack him.
"OKAY FINE!" The poet shouted as he ran out of the room.

Back upstairs, Mike the Cool Person approached out of his own room.
"Good evening, Rick." He stated casually.
"Not bloody likely, Mike! Vyvyan's mad! He's nailing the --"
Mike interrupted him. "Go back to bed, Rick."
"But Mike -- !"
"Rick – I know. Leave it."
He considered protesting against this, but didn't think it would help much. "Sorry, Michael."
"That's alright, Rick."

When Mike entered the drawing room, Vyvyan had disassembled the tower. He was now sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette, the bottle of vodka resting beside him and was staring at the newly decorated ceiling.
"Evening, Vyv."
"Alright, Michael? Happy with the door?"
"Just the way I wanted it."

Oohh. Why did Mike want that door there, hm? I'm leaving you to ponder that mystery for yourself ;).

I'd love to hear what you thought :)