All language subtitles for One Foot in the Grave S02 E07

Sorry, Mum?

Oh. Right.

She wants to attack all your men in Japan
with two dice from Mongolia.

- Where's the Sooty egg cup?
- Oh, sorry.

- Double four.
- Double four to beat this time, Mum.

Oh, hang on a minute.
She's dropped her dice in the Germolene.

Have you got it now? Right.

No, he got a double four.

Yes. Double five.

- What a surprise How very convenient.
- What's that supposed to mean?

How do we know what she's doing,
sitting with her own board and counters?

This is the way the Third Reich started.

With a Sooty egg cup?

She's conquered more countries since ''The
Archers'' finished than Hitler did in a lifetime.

No, it's nothing, Mum.

Just Victor coughing up an Opal Fruit.

- You'd better go in for the kill.
- Don't encourage her.

- Awful when someone's a bad loser.
- I know.

Who's a bad loser?
You wrap up and get on with your knitting.

Right. One army left.

- Five.
- Five.

Six.

That's that, then. That's me blasted
off the board for the third game running

by the Allied Forces of Minnie Crun.

I don't know why I bother.

It's my turn, Mum. Hang on while I get the...

Oh, right. She's just going to the loo now.

- So when's he due to have his leg off?
- Friday morning.

All being well. I'll be glad to see the back of it.

- Seven weeks with that monstrosity.
- Oh, someone's written something on it.

I can't quite read it.

Nothing of any importance.

''West Ham Wonkers''?

- What's that in aid of?
- I'll just go and get some ice.

That was when he fell asleep in the park
last Saturday afternoon.

There was an obscene drawing
of Salman Rushdie on his shin,

but it came off with some lemon Pledge.

It's been a real episode, hasn't it?

Ohh. What with one thing and another.

How anyone can break their leg buying a shirt
in Millets is beyond me in the first place.

But after about the first three weeks,
he did just about manage to get used to it.

You know, until the itching started.

Drove him totally mad

for four or five days.

He had fuse wire down it, God knows what.

In the end, it got so bad we had to go
back up the hospital to get some expert advice.

- And that's when they found it.
- Doctor said it was the rarest thing he'd known,

for someone to have an ants' nest
down their plaster cast.

There was no question about it.

You could see them all scuttling
in and out of the flies on his underpants.

I just put it down to the hot weather, you know.

Anyway, we put a blob of lotion on the
fleshy part of each thigh and that did the trick.

But I tell you, Jean, never again.

Mm.

So, um, you think it's a good moment yet?

Sorry? Oh, yes.

- When he comes in again... Ask him now.
- Right.

Sounds as if she's fallen asleep in there again.

Think I'll ring back later.

So, anyhow, Jean,

how's it all shaping up?

Have you found anyone yet to play
that other part in your Nativity production?

Not yet, no.

Look at this.
Half a bloody rainforest in here.

''The ideal Christmas gift.

''This superb reproduction,
200-years-old antique commode.''

What do they use for toilet paper?
The Dead Sea scrolls?

As a matter of fact, we were wondering
if you'd be interested, Mr Meldrew.

- Interested in what?
- In playing one of the parts for us.

- In this year's Nativity.
- Well, it depends what the part is.

It's the back half of a cow.

Oh, so it's not just any old part

Oh, no, no, not at all.

As I say, Mr Gosling from the chip shop
was originally down for it.

Then he backed out
because he was afraid of looking stupid.

And that's when we thought of you.

Especially after last year, when you were
so good as the King of the Toadstools.

I reckon you'd be a natural.

Well, I'm sorry,
I'm not spending two hours bending over

with my head stuck up someone else's...

King of the Toadstools?.

You played that giant toadstool
in ''Babes In The Wood''.

Giant toadstool?
I never played a giant toadstool.

- What was it, then? A giant mushroom?
- It wasn't a giant mushroom.

It wasn't any form of champion fungus
of any kind. I wasn't in ''Babes In The Wood''.

I didn't even see the bloody thing.

Well, it had your walk.

It's not often you see a toadstool
that round-shouldered.

- Are you sure it wasn't you?
- Oh.

You might as well save your breath, Jean.

You'll get nothing out of him till
after Christmas. It's a waste of time trying.

He won't even have a tree in the house
this year. Refuses point blank.

Oh, you've got to have a tree
in the house, Mr Meldrew.

For Christmas.

What for? So you can tie chocolate rabbits to it
and watch them melt under the lights?

So they can drip all over the carpets
and dry up like miniature cowpats?

It's not even Christmas any more,
it's a four-month trade fair

organised by retailers and advertising agencies.

Yes, what better way
to celebrate the birth of Christ

than by filling your intestines up
with New Berry Fruits

Mm, I rather fancy having every bone
in my body crushed to a pulp today.

Perhaps I'll go down WH Smith's
and spend five minutes in the book department.

So you...you don't want to, then?

- What?
- Play the back half of a cow.

It's only for one night. And you could
swish your tail about with a concealed wire.

No.

No. I haven't a clue.
I did think he could do with a new watch.

The one he's got is always slow,
but he seems to like it that way.

He says time goes too quickly as it is.

Well, what did you get him last year?

Oh. Well, no, I wouldn't get him that again.
The condition's nearly healed up now.

Well, I don't know. I have been racking
my brains for a month and I can't think...

We've ordered a capon this year.

We thought it might not be quite so dry.

If that's Great-Aunt Joyce, tell her on no
account do I want three jars of petroleum jelly

wrapped up in the form of a Christmas cracker.

Yes, dear, and he sends his love. OK.

I'll speak to you soon. Bye.

Who can that be? The postman's been.
You'll have to make a fresh pot.

Haven't they done anything about this pressure
yet? Better cancel the plumber.

Get a specialist in geriatric bladder disorders.

Oh. God Almighty.

That wind's getting up again.

They said on the radio we might be
in for another hurricane. Who was that?

- Too much to expect the plumber, I suppose.
- No...it wasn't a plumber.

I think it was some sort of delivery driver.

I think he must just have
rung the bell and then left.

Delivery driver? Delivering what?

Margaret? Delivering what?

Look...I don't want a debate about it.
I know what I ordered.

I've got the docket in front of me now.

I quite specifically ordered one Excelsior
Garden Gnome, catalogue number 263.

Never mind ''must have put it in the wrong
column''. Use a bit of common sense.

What could I possibly want with 263
bloody garden gnomes in the first place?

It's like rush hour in Munchkinland out here.

Three months I've waited for this order.

I wanted one gnome at the front door
and now I've got a bloody population explosion.

Oh.

What?. I don't be...

She says we've got to fill in
one of the return order chitties

and send them back as unsatisfactory goods.

Any of the items that are even
slightly damaged, we'll be charged for.

Victor. That's two blown over already.

If we leave them out here,
the whole lot will go for a burton.

Seems to have died down a bit out there now.

Are the telephone lines still out of action?

Yes.

It said on the local news a lot of people
have had their electricity cut off.

Might have to do without all over Christmas.

At least they won't have to watch television.

Sit through all that festive tripe.

Oh. Cilla Black
Can you imagine? A fate worse than death.

She's got a very infectious laugh.

So has a hyena with anthrax.

I might try that new video place tomorrow
on my way back from the hospital,

see if they've got anything worth...

What the hell are you grinning at?

Will you get away from me?

It's like sleeping
in bloody Snow White's cottage.

I had a word with Eileen's husband.

For 20 quid he could run them back
to the warehouse on his truck on Wednesday.

Oh.... I'll be glad when it's over,
I will straight.

All the miseries in the world
seem a hundred times worse at Christmas.

I suppose it was always the same.

I don't suppose there was ever any magic in it.

Only in old films with Jimmy Stewart.
Never in real life.

- What do you want for Christmas?
- A set of razor blades to slash my wrists with.

God Almighty,
you're in a bright mood all of a sudden

If it's that much of an ordeal,
you needn't bother.

I told you, don't splash out for me.
It won't worry me if I don't get anything.

All right, then. I won't.

You know what we said last year.
It's only a ritual.

If we both agree not to buy anything, it'll
avoid worries and there's no disappointments.

Fine by me.

Fine, then.

Right. We'll require
three pieces of identification,

plus an official document such as
a driver's licence with your normal signature.

There's a L60 deposit
and the rental charges are from L1 to L2.50 daily.

All tapes are to be returned by 7.30 prompt,
after which a further L2 is payable,

plus a 50p surcharge
should you forget to rewind the tape.

Right. Here's my birth certificate,

here's a document
containing my normal signature,

here's a document containing an abnormal
signature, written with a boxing glove,

here's a cheque for the required amount.
And here's a pound of my flesh,

which I realise I must forfeit at any time
should I happen to talk during the film.

I'll go and put this onto hard disk.

- Your card, then, Mr Meldrew.
- Thank you. Can I ask...

do these film categories you have here
mean anything at all?

Look at this under Family.
''The Cook, The Thief, His Wife And Her Lover''

and ''Confessions Of A Werewolf Prostitute''.

I don't know what sort of family you belong to.

I mean, you've got
''Santa Claus - The Movie'' under Horror.

Fair enough. But under Children's

you've got ''Nightmare On Elm Street III''
and ''The Blob''.

It's how people put them back on the shelves.

I suppose your little kiddies think
this is jolly good fun,

watching some decomposing corpse sucking
people's blood like a carton of Ribena?

I suppose this is an ideal bedtime story
in your house, is it?

Two hours of some bloke with a roasted face
going loopy with a chainsaw.

What sort of film exactly were you after?

I don't suppose you've got
''Angels With Dirty Faces''?

Who's in it?

A little-known actor called James Cagney.

He was very big as the back half of a cow.

No? Never mind. Perhaps I'll have Arnold
Schwarzenegger in ''Rag, Tag And Blob II''

Perhaps you can drop me a card
when it comes in. Thank you for your help.

Good morning.

- How did it go? All right?
- Yes, fine.

This machine goes right down the plaster...

There's still a load of leaves and stuff
out the front if you're looking for a job.

Yes, all right.

Oh.

Thank you very much, Great-Aunt Joyce

I wonder what it is.

A bottle of something nice

or five more jars of petroleum jelly.

Oh.

Wonders will never cease.

How goes it, Mrs Meldrew? Are you winning?

Oh. Good morning.

We haven't met. Tom Croker. I'm Pippa's father.

Oh.

I've just... Oh. Oh, dear.

Forgive me. I've got a streamer coming on.

Bless you.
It sounds as if you ought to get back indoors.

I'd love to. I'm afraid I've just locked myself
out of the wretched house.

Oh, no. Is there no one else in?

They've both gone shopping. Patrick very kindly
let me come over today to use his computer.

I just popped out the front to the car,
the door slammed shut.

Oh, dear.

Excuse the gnomes.
It's a bit of a story.

You're very kind, Mrs Meldrew.

Oh, what have you got here?

''Plain Truth'', ''War Cry''
and four copies of ''Watchtower''.

Is your husband
a man of strong religious beliefs?

Well, he strongly believes
in castrating Jehovah's Witnesses.

- I don't know if that counts.
- Time of year. A lot of it about.

Good morning to you.
You must be Mr Meldrew. Tom Croker.

- Yes?
- I am sorry to disturb you.

I won't need to impose upon you too long.
It's just that I...

I'm sorry. I'm really not interested.

But I was like you - stranded on the outside
without a key. It happens all too often.

Yes How much are the magazines?

- Erm... I beg your pardon?
- 30p, is it? To cover the cost of the printing.

Very kind of you to call. Thank you very much.
I'll read this later. Happy Christmas to you.

Mr Meldrew, I'm sorry. I ought to explain.

Yes, another time. I'm really very busy.

Thank you very much indeed. Goodbye.

You can never get rid of these ruddy people.

And they always come
at the most inconvenient...

What am I doing?

I should be in the inside, surely.

OK, Victor?

It isn't that Victor doesn't believe in God.

It's just that they haven't been
on speaking terms lately.

Perhaps you could put in a good word.

That won't be very easy, I'm afraid.
You see, Victor may, but I'm afraid I don't.

- Don't what?
- Believe in God.

- Sorry?
- I don't believe in God.

Of course, I used to. I used to believe
in fairies and elves, once upon a time.

I used to believe in the SDP's economic policy.

I'm afraid, this last year, I've had the most
terrible crisis of faith. Everything crumbled.

After 40 years ministering,
it was most unnerving, I can't tell you.

That is why this will be
my last Christmas with the Church.

On January 1st,
I'm leaving to go and work in resins.

Resins?

Yes. A rising new company has offered me
a position on the board. Very handsome salary.

At my time of life, it was manna from heaven.

Only I... I can remember quite clearly
when I first discovered God.

It was September 4th.

1951.

And then I lost him again one day last summer.

Woke up one morning in July

and he was gone.

You make him sound like a hamster.

It grieves me more than I can say,
but I have to go with my conscience.

Faith is absolute or it's nothing at all.

And when I look around and try to explain,

explain to someone like Mrs Burridge...

She's a young mother, barely 30.

The most devout and reverent of Christians.

Has a little boy aged six.

Last Monday, her husband left the house
to fly to Munich on a business trip.

He was going to be away seven days

and come back on Christmas Eve
so they could all attend Midnight Mass together.

He never even got to the airport.

Car collided with a petrol tanker

and he was burnt alive at the steering wheel.

Words of comfort come hard, Mrs Meldrew.

There isn't much you can say, is there?

It's pitiful to see a woman with her appetite
for living so absolutely...crushed.

And yet from somewhere she finds the strength
to carry on with her life,

which can't be easy,

working in that video shop all day long.

Dishing out death and destruction
to amuse the masses.

Perhaps you know her. It's quite near here.
Corner of Hogarth Avenue.

Young girl with long blonde hair.

No, but I very rarely go in those shops.
Hello... Sounds as if they're back.

Yes.

- You can get back to your computer now.
- I am so sorry to be a bit morbid.

- Goodbye, Mr Meldrew. Merry Christmas.
- Merry Christmas.

It's lovely to have met you.

I don't usually go around spreading
doom and gloom in other people's houses.

- Bye.
- Bye. And a very merry Christmas.

God.

Don't. Whatever you do...just don't.

- All right, then, I won't.
- I don't know why I did.

- I said I wouldn't do it. I swore I wouldn't do it.
- Well, why did you do it, then?

Nothing short of
a complete and total public humiliation

in front of 500 cackling crows.

Nativity play? It was more like
the Gospel according to the Marx Brothers.

Can I get any of that before you guzzle it all?

I swallow all my pride, every last ounce of dignity,
to dress as the back half of a cow

and what do I find?
The costume department's lost the front half.

But not to worry. Mrs Prowse to the rescue

with the front half of a giant rabbit
left over from Easter.

With any luck, no one will notice the difference.

That's not a bad drop of plonk
for Great-Aunt Joyce.

Ended up lumbering around the crib like the
result of some horrible vivisection experiment.

I'm still peckish. Do you want to heat up the rest
of that bubble and squeak before we go to bed?

And that was a moving moment, wasn't it?

When the angel of the Lord came down and
said, ''Bugger me. What the hell's happening?''

I've never seen such a cheapskate production.

The three wise men were all cardboard cut-outs.
I suppose you noticed that?

Half the audience thought the stable was being
invaded by the pirates from ''Captain Pugwash''.

And you would have thought at least
they could have found a child's doll or something

as the baby Jesus. That was the absolute limit.

A marrow wrapped in swaddling clothes.

Oh, for goodness' sake,
shut up going on and on about the bloody thing.

You've made your point,
it was a complete disaster. Let it rest.

Who's that at this time of night?

I'm finished with amateur dramatics for life,
I am straight.

- Hello, love.
- Merry Christmas.

We heard you come in, so thought we'd get you.

- Oh, come on in. Have some sherry.
- Oh, thank you.

Oh. I see what you mean about...
all your goblins.

Yes.

How's your father? He's got a lot
on his mind this Christmas, hasn't he?

It was nice meeting him,
in spite of all the mishaps.

There we are.

- Merry Christmas.
- Merry Christmas.

Cheers.

- That's what we came round for, actually.
- What's that?

- My father's Christmas present.
- Sorry?

The bottle of wine. Fortnum & Mason
delivered it yesterday morning.

I hope you don't mind us asking them to deliver it
to you, but we weren't sure when it'd arrive

and we didn't want to risk him spotting it.
He'd have tumbled it.

- The bottle of wine.
- Being a collector.

Well, a fanatic, really,
when it comes to his wine.

He's been after this particular one
for God knows how long.

A real stroke of luck that we found it.
Ch�teau Chevigny Meursault, 1924.

Incredibly rare.

He's got his 60th birthday coming up on the 28th,

so it's a big combined present for the two.

It's amazing, really, isn't it, to think of a bottle
of wine that's 10 years older than your father?

Amazing to think of a bottle that cost 850 quid.

Oh, shh. You don't have to
keep shouting about the price.

Oh, well, I'll just get it for you.

Is that them from next door?
It's a bit late to be out. What do they want?

Victor.

That very expensive bottle of wine
that was sent to us by Great-Aunt Joyce

wasn't from Great-Aunt Joyce or for us.

- Not from Great-Aunt Joyce? The card...
- Yes. The card was from her.

The wine was from
a very expensive place in London.

It belongs to Patrick and Pippa.

And the couriers left it in our house
for safe...keeping.

It cost L850,

it's been perfectly preserved for over 60 years

and you've just poured the last drops
in the bubble and squeak.

Right.

Well...

you better go in and apologise.

And I'll go and rest my neck on a railway line.

- What are you doing?
- I'll fill it up and stick the cork back in.

A thing like this, nobody ever drinks it.
They put it in a cellar and look at it.

With a bit of luck, nobody will notice
the difference. Ahh. Bloody thing.

Get me the funnel out of that drawer.

What are you doing now?

I'm sorry to be so long.
We couldn't remember where we'd put it.

- Oh, thanks. Now, guard that with your life.
- Don't worry.

We won't keep you any longer.
You'll be ready for your bed.

- Thanks for the sherry.
- Not at all.

- And merry Christmas.
- Yes, merry Christmas to you, too.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

If you do believe in God,

I'd say now's the time
to start saying your prayers.

Today is the last Sunday
that I shall stand before you

as the incumbent priest
of the parish of St Luke's.

It's no exaggeration to say

that this is one of the saddest days of my life.

And yet as I look around the faces
of you here before me,

I'm only too well aware
that there are those amongst you

whose burden of grief
is far, far greater than mine.

To all of you I send my fondest thanks

and my sincere assurances
that as I make my way to pastures new,

from the world of holy orders

to the world of multinational
industrial plastics conglomerates,

I shall continue to hold dear
all those timeless virtues

of benevolence, compassion,
sensitivity and...

Excuse me.

How are you?

I'm in the middle of a sermon at the moment.

Are you at the office?

Yes, I will, as soon as I'm through.

Are you the postman?

Sorry?

- Oh. Thank you.
- Adam.

Ahh.

Mrs Burridge, I just wanted to...
The other day, I...

The things that I said at the time,
I was just er...

It's still wobbling about out there.

- What is?
- That tree outside Mrs Aylesbury's, opposite.

It got very badly weakened in the storm.

The kids have been playing lumberjacks
to get it to go through her upstairs window.

They've phoned the Parks Department
five times,

but it seems the phones are all still off.

I've never known a Christmas like it.

Yes, it hasn't been the happiest on record.

For anyone.

I suppose if it teaches us something,

it teaches us to be thankful
and not to go about and mo...

What am I doing with this?

I went downstairs for a book.

I've just about had enough of you, matey.

Victor. You are not
to put his head down the toilet again.

Oh. I forgot to tell you. I met
the Reverend Croker again today, Pippa's father.

He says they're laying on some special dinner
for the homeless down the community centre,

give them a decent meal for once in the year.

Er...I said I'd go along and give them a hand.

- Help with the washing-up or something.
- Mm.

You'll miss your Christmas dinner.

Well, we can have it at teatime.
It's not that big a deal. It's only a few hours.

Do something worthwhile this year,
for once in my life.

Oh. So I'm to spend Christmas morning
alone now, am I?

For goodness'... Look, what if I was the Pope?

You wouldn't see me at all then, would you?

I mean, what happened to goodwill to all men?

And that's from Mr and Mrs Burkett.
Send all their love and best wishes.

What have they been spending their money on?

It's a shame
he wouldn't have a tree in the house.

Not the same without a tree, is it?

Always have a tree,
even if it's only a little one.

Yes

Oh, dear.

I did tell them you wanted one,

but that was before the...

Well, I'd better be running along, I suppose.

I've got a few more calls to make.

So you won't be
having your dinner till this evening, then?

No.

Still, gives you more time.

I must say I thought that was
a very generous gesture, not like Victor at all.

Well, not like any husband, really.

Giving up his Christmas Day
to go down that draughty old community centre.

Pity a few more can't be bothered.

Right.

Oh, gloves.

It's turned really chilly out there now.

Forecast said we might have some snow tonight.
Well, bye-bye, Margaret.

See you soon.

Merry Christmas. And thanks for the sherry.

Yes. Bye, Jean.

And thank you.

There we are. The last of the sprouts, Victor,
if anyone wants more.

Right.

Very good.

Waiter?

Is everything OK for you?

Can you tell me the time at all?

Erm, no, I can't. I didn't put my watch on.

2.51 and two seconds...precisely.

Is it?

Is it? Good.

2-5-1-2.

2-5-1-2 in the year of our Lord 1-9-9-0.

Yes. Something to think about there.

We've lost the ability
to tell time for ourselves, you see.

It's all done with clocks these days.

Takes away all the skill,
squinting at quartz analogue watches.

Measuring the sun's passage
across the firmament.

Not many people left
can actually tell time any more.

Not many of us left.

2.51

and 39 seconds.

- So if you want any more gravy...
- I don't mind waiting, Mr Meldrew.

I don't mind waiting one little bit.

Good. That's the ticket, then.

Thank you very much indeed, Mrs Rutland.
You've been tremendous. Merry Christmas.

Bye to you.

Victor, I think we've cracked it.

- Everyone gone out there?
- Er...

Yes, they've all gone except one.

A gentleman called Mr Starkey.

He er...

He doesn't seem too keen on going just yet.
He said he...doesn't mind waiting.

- Wait for what?
- Er...

Well, erm...

Armageddon, apparently,

which he seems to think will be
at 20 past eight this evening. And 15 seconds.

I've got to get this place vacated by four o'clock
or the council will be down on us.

Tell him to go on down to the Sally Army hall
like everyone else.

- Yes. I did try and explain that, but...
- Yes?

Well, he's got a machine gun.

- Pardon me?
- He's got a machine gun.

I didn't like to ask where he got it from,

but he says it's very useful
for getting a seat on the bus.

The other thing he said was that he wants us
to get him a set of new clothes

because he says he can't...

He can't possibly meet the Four Horsemen
of the Apocalypse without a clean shirt.

Tell him to go away and stop being so silly.

Right.

- What about the machine gun?
- It's only a toy, isn't it, obviously?

Tell him I've got to lock up
and be out of here in ten minutes.

Right.

Ahh.

There's our white Christmas after all, then.

Very seasonal.

I-I'm not sure
I'm getting through to him, I'm afraid.

He seems quite pleased with the new set
of clothes, but he's not ready to leave just yet.

I say.
What the devil does he think he's playing at?

- I wonder if we ought to call the police.
- It had crossed my mind.

You go back in there and keep him talking.
I'll see if I can get the station.

That's all right, Reverend.
You can put that down.

I don't mind waiting.

One of the things
I hate most about modern civilisation

is you're driving along in your car, right?

Driving at the wheel of your car...

..and there's this van in front of you.

And the back's open.

And there's this guy sitting there
on a pile of sacks

eating grapes.

And spitting the pips at your windscreen.

I can't stand it when that happens.

It makes my blood...boil.

- Oh, y-yes, I know.
- Absolutely. Terrible thing to do to anyone.

- What time is it now, Mr Starkey?
- Time now?

6.46 and 39 seconds.

What exactly are we waiting for?

The vials of wrath, Mr Meldrew.

The final conflict against
the mother of harlots and abominations.

Ah.

Right.

In an hour and a half from now,

a multitude of frogs shall spring forth
from the mouths of false prophets.

Yes. I expect so.

And then...the miracle of deliverance.

By 9.23, the water of life
shall proceed forth from the throne of the Lamb.

And the day of the Lord shall be...

- What's that?
- Someone breaking in. It might be the police.

Don't either of you move a muscle.

- Anyone at home?
- Pippa. Don't come in.

Dad. Where the hell have you been?

Get back out. He's got a gun.

Who has?

Close the door behind you.
You'll sit and wait with us, won't you?

Have you any idea what time it is?

It's snowing like mad out there.
They'll both freeze to death. Look at them.

Er...

Time now...

..6.48 precisely.

Pippa, don't argue with the gentleman.

He won't hurt you.

I've seen him in the park, feeding the squirrels.

Now...come on.

Put that thing down and we can all go home.

Do you want a smack around the head?

- Not really.
- Well, give it here, then.

How are you feeling? Still edgy?

Would you like me to mash you up
a Valium in a mince pie?

20 past eight's been and gone.

What happened
to the mother of harlots and abominations?

Have we missed Cilla Black
or is it on tomorrow?

I wonder where he did get that gun.

Said he got it for Christmas.

Poor sod.

Christmas

Well, he had his faith. Makes you wonder
what to believe in, who's listening.

What are you waffling on about?

That little boy
whose father was blown up in the car crash.

How do you make children like that understand?

Some people pray to God,
some write to Father Christmas.

Comes to the same thing in the end,
all the good it does.

I see why people like Croker want to pack it in.

It's stopped snowing out there.
They said it wouldn't come to much.

Mm?

Erm...

I-I know we said, you know,
we agreed about erm...

not giving each other anything for Christmas,
so don't start moaning, right?

But...

Happy Christmas, anyway.

Ohh.

Ohhh, thank you.

I don't know... I mean, I...

Awww.

What did you buy me a new watch for?

You can throw that other thing away
and stop trying to guess the time.

Well, I suppose I might as well confess.

- What's that?
- I've done the same thing.

I bought myself a new watch as well.

I'm sorry, but we did... I mean, didn't we?

Yes.

Yes, we did.

Right.

Erm...I think I'll turn in now.
I don't know about you.

Yes.

Nothing to stay up for now.

Yeah, happy Christmas. Bye.

See you soon. Bye.

Oh, God.

There we are, Ted. Two more to come from
upstairs and that's it. Can you manage, Victor?

- Yes, thanks.
- Oh, God.

We've had some Christmases,
but this must rank as the most depressing ever.

Yes, it hasn't been very lucky for you, has it?

But for others, of course,
it's been a different story.

You heard about that woman's husband?
The one in your local video store.

Mmm. Oh, yes. Yes, that was terrible.
Compared to a tragedy like that...

No, no, no. Since then.

Oh, you haven't heard.

- Heard what?
- Well, he came back, the night before last.

- What are you talking about?
- Apparently, when he left the other week,

he took an early flight out,
to Germany or wherever.

Parked at the airport
and someone stole his car,

went out joyriding in it, hit a petrol tanker
and the whole lot went up.

Naturally, they thought it was his body.

And, of course, with the phones being down
all week, he couldn't phone home or anything.

Can you imagine?

After all that poor girl's been through,

suddenly just turning up
on the doorstep again like that.

Oh, New Berry Fruits.

Mr Meldrew.

- Have a nice Christmas?
- Ah, well, not sorry it's over, I suppose.

- How about you?
- Quite fun, wasn't it, love? Quite fun.

- On Christmas Day, especially.
- Yes, how is your father? All right?

- I expect he's glad to be shot of it all.
- Oh, he's fine.

- Seen worse than that over the years.
- Once he'd had his turkey, he was fine.

We were fine. Everything was fine.

Until the moment came for us to present him
with his bottle of Ch�teau Chevigny Meursault.

If you can cast your mind back, Mr Meldrew,

this was the bottle of extremely rare
vintage plonk which we paid L850 for.

850 smackeroos of hard-earned cash.

Do you remember?

Imagine, then, our not unnatural surprise, when,

just as we were delicately sliding
the 1924 classic from its box,

the cork suddenly took it upon itself
to fly, unsolicited, up my father-in-law's nose.

And something closely resembling
carbonated cat's urine

started dribbling down the sides of the bottle.

Well, that... Erm...

You see, what happened...

Still, we can't stand around here chatting all day.
Wave goodbye to your garden gnomes.

Actually,
there's still a couple to come from upstairs.

No, I was telling you. You'd better wave goodbye
to your garden gnomes. Darling?

Right. I think we can hand it in now.

Happy New Year, Mr Meldrew.

That was from Great-Aunt Joyce.

I told her it had cleared up,
but her hearing's not too good.

Has he taken them?
What was all that racket a little while ago?

Erm, nothing very much.
The er...truck backfired a bit, that's all.

I heard smashing noises. I thought that tree
had finally gone over into Mrs Aylesbury's.

It was looking very wonky when I went out.
Cup of tea?

Eh... Well, as we're probably out of strychnine,
it'll have to be PG Tips.

Looks like you've got a tree
in the house after all, then, Mr Meldrew.