All language subtitles for The Good Life (1975) - S02E07.Going to Pot

(Tapping and hammering)

Oi, Fiddler! Come in off the roof.

(Jewish accent) All right, already.

(Tom groans)

Oh, just the job. Phew.

- How's it going?
- Well, I've cemented the chimney pot on.

But the whole stack needs redoing.

One puff of wind and it'll be in the road.
Those slates are dodgy, too.

- Now, you be careful out there.
- Oh, I'm being careful.

I tie myself to the stack with rope.

What, the chimney stack
that's about to fall into the road?

(Splutters)

Oh, my... l never thought of that.
My whole life flashed in front of me then.

What you really need
are little suction cups all over you.

Like that chap in your Boys' Annual
who walked up walls.

Yeah... yes. Suction Man.
How many plungers have we got?

- One, and it doesn't suck.
- Oh.

Well, perhaps not. You know, I hate to admit it,
but this job is really too skilled for me.

- Shall I have a go?
- Certainly not!

I'm not having everyone looking up your skirt.

- I'm wearing trousers.
- Anyway, it's dangerous.

You've got to learn this work properly.
Where can you get a course in roofmanship?

Night school.

Tick. VG. Why didn'tl think of that?

Cos I'm brilliant and you're stupid.

Yeah, that must be it.
It is a good idea, in a general sort of way.

There are all sorts of things you can learn there.
And it's dead cheap.

- I'll get a syllabus from the library.
- Good.

I'll do @ makeshift job on the roof for now.

Now, be careful of that chimney stack.

All right, Barbara. You never know -
I might not even need evening classes.

Oh, Tom, do be careful.

Don't keep on nagging! One thing I have got
is a perfect sense of balance.

(Screams)

Tom! Are you all right?

(Groans)

Well, don't just stand there, woman!
Go and get the syllabus.

You can do an awful lot of subjects
at evening classes, can't you?

Yeah, I quite fancy the girls' keep-fit class.

- Mm. I thought you might.
- Or first-year Swahili. That sounds interesting.

How many one-year-old Swahilis do you know?

Good point. Well, we'll stick with what we've got.

We'll go to house-maintenance classes
on Tuesdays together.

On Thursdays, weaving for me and pottery for
you. And I bet I can weave before you can pot.

- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah!

- (Knock at door)
- Come!

For heaven's sake,
get your coats and come on down to the pub.

- What's the matter, Jerry?
- Thursday evenings.

It's like being cooped up with a mad moth.

Jerry! I am not mad and I am not an insect.
Good evening, Tom and Barbara.

But Thursday night
has always been my Music Society night.

- Oh, yes, of course. You got the boot.
- I resigned, Tom.

Please do not use that expression. I resigned.

And now I'm at a loose end on Thursdays.

- And everybody has to know it.
- Jerry!

Well, we're going to evening classes
on Thursdays. Why not come too?

Oh, what sort of evening classes?

Oh, all sorts. Bricklaying, kendo, weightlifting.

I'll talk to Barbara.
What sort of classes, Barbara?

Well, I'm going to do pottery.

- Oh, pottery!
- Join, join.

- Oh, that does sound interesting.
- Join, join!

Oh, do come, Margo. It'll be fun.

Oh, I don't know.

Oh, goon.
It'll be an outlet for all those artistic talents.

- Yes. Do you know, I think I will.
- Good. We can use your car.

Jerry, here's a thought -
you can come to weaving classes with me.

Weaving? What could I possibly want to weave?

Oh, I don't know.
A prayer mat to take into Sir's office.

Ha-ha-ha-ha. Anyway,
what's behind all this dabbling in rustic crafts?

It's not dabbling.
These skills will serve us in the future.

We'll maintain our own house, replace
broken crockery, even make our own clothes.

- I can't wait to see that!
- Tom, I think you'll have to weave alone.

Jolly right.
Your going's a very good idea, though, Margo.

- Why?
- I can have my Thursday evenings back.

I can eat a curry, listen to my plebby records
and read a good, dirty book.

All the things I can't do when you're there.
Well, are we going to this pub?

Providing you're paying, yes. I'll get our coats.

- Oh, one thing, Barbara.
- Yes?

You do realise
that I shall be doing pottery only as a hobby?

Well, of course. I don't think anyone there
would mistake you for a common old artisan.

Good.

TOM: Come on.

Oh, Tom, you're not going out in that?

Huh!

Margo, one does presume
one is going in the saloon bar, doesn't one?

Oh, Margo, what's the big surprise?

Hell's bells!

That's incredible!

I bet this set you back a few bob.

Jerry, actually. It's my birthday present.

- But that's not for weeks.
- Oh, in advance. I needed it straightaway.

What are you talking about, Margo?
We haven't been to our first pottery class yet.

I don't see that makes any difference.

No, if you're to put Josiah Wedgwood
in his place, the sooner the better.

We needn't be excessive, Tom.

No, I just feel that pottery and I
are going to be very good friends.

- At this price, you'd better be.
- Well, there can't be another shed like this.

- Not shed, Barbara, please. Studio.
- Sorry. Studio.

You've got enough clay.
Are you making a 500-gallon vase?

No. I thought, once I've mastered the rudiments,
I'll specialise in... objets.

- D-art?
- Dart yes.

Of course, it might put Mrs Weaver's nose
just the tiniest bit out of joint.

Oh, she's only been here a week.
She's not on your blacklist already, is she?

Oh, no. Mrs Weaver is charming, charming.

It's just that she's a painter, and she will steer
the conversation onto the subject of art

and then play the queen bee.

And you want to sting her back
with your objects D-art?

I wouldn't have put it as crudely as that.

- Wouldn't you?
- No.

Oh, come on, Margo. Give us a demo.

- Oh, no.
- Goon!

Yes, go on! I mean, what's the point
of having a new toy... l mean, all this equipment,

if you're not going to play with it... l mean, use it?

Very well. Only, you must realise
that I've only had one little experiment.

I'm not as yet endowed
with any sort of technique.

Thank you, Tom.

Are you gonna scrub up first?

- Look, do you want me to show you or not?
- Sorry.

Very well.

First of all, one sits at one's wheel.

Yes. With you so far.

Then one takes one's ball

of not too soggy, but not too flabby clay.

- It sounds like a cookery lesson!
- Barbara!

- Barbara!
- Sorry.

Now, if you look at my foot,
you will see that it is placed on the treadle pedal.

Yes... yes!

One begins to treadle. Or is it "pedal"?
Anyway, one does it.

See?

And now for the moment of truth.

One throws one's pot.

Where?

Onto the very epicentre of one's wheel.

Go on, then.

You will forgive any little mistake
one might make?

- (Tom laughing)
- Stop it! Stop it!

Well, you're the one that's pedalling!

(Laughing)

That's a rough idea, anyway.

It couldn't get much rougher! (Laughs)

- You were willing me to fail, weren't you?
- Well... yes.

(Laughs) Oh, never mind, Margo.

He's just jealous.
It's only because he's doing rotten old weaving.

Are you still giving us a lift to the class tonight,
Margo?

- I'll certainly give Barbara a lift.
- Oh...!

You wouldn't make old Tom run behind the car,
would you? Not old Tom.

(Giggling) Oh, no, don't... don't be silly! No.

I'll pick you both up at seven.

Margo, you are the Doultonest Royal
of the pottery world.

- See you later, then.
- Bye. See you at seven.

- See you then. Bye.
- Bye.

Go away!

& ENGELBERT HUMPERDINCK:
Release Me

(Door closing)

- Is that you, Margo?
- Yes, it's me.

Bye-bye, Bert.

(Record slows to a halt)

- Haven't had a very good evening, have you?
- Not very, no.

- Well, never mind. It's only your first lesson.
- And my last. I've left.

- What?
- Yes, I have left that so-called night school.

A more precise term for it
might be a breeding ground.

- For what?
- Familiarity and bad manners.

Our so-called art master was a bearded
young lout, young enough to be my...

A young, bearded lout, with filthy feet,

who would insist on calling me "Margie".

- A lout? And that's why you left?
- Isn't that enough?

Well, not really, no. What's he like as a teacher?

A poseur. Do you know, he's paid by the council.

He strutted round that classroom with
his Beethoven T-shirt and open-toed sandals,

like some Left Bank gigolo, and when...

Yes?

I asked him, very politely...

."Mr Ives, what size lump of clay
do you think I should use?"

Do you know what he did, Jerry?
He stared, quite unashamedly,

at my... breasts...

...and said, "In your case, Margie, about a 36B."

- Disgusting.
- Of course, everyone found it hilarious.

I should have guessed
what sort of people they'd have there.

If the council had the good sense
to charge 50 guineas a term,

it would, A, keep the riffraff out
and, B, pay for a proper teacher.

- I bet Barbara laughed.
- I'm afraid she did, Jerry.

- But poor Barbara's always been easily led.
- Barbara?

Of course, there was only one thing to do,
so I did it.

I told him he was a perverted degenerate
and walked out.

- So, that's that?
- Yes.

And to think we pay for that hippy
out of our rates.

Well, never mind, darling. Cheer yourself up
by writing a snotty letter to the council.

That's very sweet of you, Jerry, but...

I think I'll go to bed.

I feel emotionally drained.

Good night.

Hey, just a minute. There's £200-worth
of electric kiln out in our shed.

So?

What's it to become?
A monument to your tantrums?

You mercenary beast!

(Music starts)

And you know I hate Bing Crosby.

- (Door slams)
- Good.

(Turns up volume)

(Turns down volume)

BARBARA: Tom! Just see if the goat's all right.

TOM: OK.

(Sighs)

- She's fine.
- Oh... good.

- Coffee?
- Please.

All right, then. Come on. Show me.

- (Chuckles) Show you what?
- Ha-ha-ha.

Whatever you brought from pottery class
in that bag.

Oh... you don't want to see that.

Where is it'? A-ha!

(Shrieks) Oh, no, Tom!

- Wait. Thank you.
- No, it's not terribly good.

Now, I... I know we've been going for months,
but it's... not very good.

Allow me to be the judge of that.

They're horrible.

Yes, well... l did tell you.

I don't think
pottery and I are really cut out for each other.

Oh, it's probably your teacher. What's he like?

Oh, he's all right. He fancies himself a bit, but...

No, it's me.

See, I don't seem
to be able to keep anything on my wheel

long enough to make it!

That cup looks like a gravy boat. (Laughs)

Well, how are you getting on?
What's your bloke like?

Oh, a twit.

Oh, you're not doing very well, either?

Well, perhaps twit's too strong a word, but Mr
Sadlowski's Polish and I can't understand him.

You're no good at weaving... are you?

The rest of the class
seem to understand him all right.

Perhaps I haven't the ear for his accent.

You're a lousy weaver, aren't you?

You see, he says things like...

(Thick accent)
"Keep your shuttle moving, Mr Good."

By the time I discover what he's saying,
they're onto something else.

You can't do it, can you?

No.

I caught my arm in the loom tonight.

There was ever such a kerfuffle.
They had to cut me free.

(Laughing) Oh, dear, oh, dear!
Did they almost make a carpet out of it, then?

You can't talk, can you? Ow!

- No, no.
- At least we're all right at house maintenance.

Yes. It's just that Mr Blundell
is taking so long to get round to roofing.

Yeah,
I hope that polythene holds in the meantime.

"Jack Sprat could eat no fat.
His wife could eat no lean.

And so, between them both, see,
they licked the platter clean."

What are you talking about?

Us. Us!

If we swapped classes,
we might click at each other's subjects.

Well, it's worth a try.
We can't do any worse than we are already.

Exactly. My arm still hurts, you know.
Well, that's what we'll do, then.

- Right
- Right

- Coffee?
- Yeah. No, no, no. Let's christen these.

Oh, you are a fool!

No, honestly. No, look.

As long as they're functional,
it doesn't matter what they look like.

There we are.

There you are. Lovely. Look. Lovely.

I name these cups Dis and Aster.

- Well, cheers.
- Cheers.

Oh, dear Sheila!

- Close your eyes.
- All right.

But not for too long,
cos it makes me fall forwards.

- Happy birthday.
- Oh, Jerry...

Oh, you sweet thing! Thank you.

I really didn't expect anything,
after you'd spent that money on my studio.

Didn't you, darling?

BOTH:
4 Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you

4 Happy birthday, dear Margo!
Happy birthday to youl!

Thank you. Thank you.

I forgive you
for putting my age on my birthday card.

Look what Jerry gave me.

- Oh, isn't that lovely?
- Blimey. I wish he was married to me.

Well, Margo, a very happy birthday from us,
with our love.

- Oh, you shouldn't. You can't afford presents.
- I know. We made it.

(Dully) Oh..

Now, that really is...

And so is this one.

- Who's a clever girl, then?
- He is. He made them.

- Oh, I thought you were the silkworm.
- No, we swapped classes. Didn't we tell you?

No. Well, presumably, Barbara,
that Ives person became too much for you.

No, I became too much for him.

He had to stay behind every night
to scrape my clay off the walls. (Laughs)

But Tom's taken to it like a duck to water.

Yeah, and clever-clogs there
can actually understand Mr Sadlowski.

Oh, Margo, you should come to weaving.
You'd like Mr Sadlowski.

He's got nice eyes and he calls all the women
in the class "my ladies".

No, thank you, Barbara.

I'm afraid
that Ives person scarred me too deeply.

Well, the classes have worked out for you two.

Oh, yes,
you should see us at house maintenance.

I learned to unblock a drain last week.

Just an endless round of fun, isn't it?

Don't mock.
What would you do if your drain got blocked?

- Pay a plumber to unblock it.
- There is that way of doing it, yes.

No, seriously - those are very nice.
Aren't they, Margo?

Oh, yes, yes...

They're so... hand-made.

- (Door bell)
- Oh, excuse me.

I like these. I really do.

Oh, it's all right. You don't have to bring them out
every time we come.

No, all great artists are rejected until they die.

Look, everybody. The river at Thames Ditton.
Mrs Weaver painted it for me.

Oh, splendid!
Oh, you've met Mrs Weaver, haven't you?

Yes. Shall we go?

Oh, it's all right.
Perhaps we just got off to an unlucky start.

Yeah, you know, I like that. That's very nice.

Tom, one does not use the word "nice"
to a professional painter.

I mean, Mrs Weaver
has been exhibited in Sloane Street.

- Has she?
- I wasn't streaking, you understand.

(Laughs) Mrs Weaver!

Well, shall we all sit down?
We look as though we're waiting for a train.

Oh, where did you get these, Mrs Leadbetter?

Oh, I didn't buy them. No, they were a present.
A home-made present.

- Guilty.
- No, I think they're super.

They're so unfussy.

- (Laughs) Are they?
- No, I'm serious.

When one creates something, it's not
what one puts in, is it? It's what one leaves out.

- Is it'?
- How extraordinary.

I was about to say the self-same thing
just as you arrived, Mrs Weaver.

- Wasn't 1, Jerry?
- I don't know. Difficult to tell.

- Well, I was.
- I like these enormously.

- Oh, so do l.
- Mr Good...

- Tom.
- Tom. Would you make me half a dozen?

(Laughs) Are you taking the mickey?

Only to the extent
that I would commission you for them.

What, with money?

What do you think? Bead necklaces?

Well, I don't really know.
What do you think, love?

- Well, we do still have a hole in our roof.
- Yeah, we could buy materials to fix it.

Yes. I mean,
I am practically a qualified steeplejack now.

- Mrs Weaver, you're on.
- Good.

Ah, snag. I can't promise a very quick delivery.

You see, Miss Purvis, in my class,

is trying to make one of those giant -
what are they? - Forty Thieves pots,

and she's hogging the kiln.

Oh, no problem, Tom. You can use mine.

- Oh, of course, your shed!
- Studio, Barbara, please.

- Sorry.
- That's perfect. Thanks, Margo.

You'd have to sweep the cobwebs out first,
of course.

I didn't realise that you were a potter as well,
Mrs Leadbetter.

Oh... one dabbles, Mrs Weaver.

One dabbles.

(Gasps)

Phew! It's like an oven in here.

It is an oven. Hey, you'll get shot,
bringing her into Margo's garden.

No, it's all right. She's out.

I just wanted to show Geraldine
her genius master at work.

Geraldine, that is your genius master.
You have been milked by those hands.

Yeah, if you're lucky,
I'll make a life mask of your udders.

(Laughs)

No, I'm on my way home.
I wondered if you wanted any help.

Yeah, I do, actually. Tie Geraldine
to one of Margo's concrete mushrooms.

BARBARA: Come on. Come on.

(Sighs) I'm yours to command, Master.

Right. Now, four more goblets for Margo,
who wants six, the same as Mrs Weaver.

Four snob goblets.

Yeah, and two medium-sized salvers,

for Mrs Weaver's friend with the lisp.

Two medium-sized thalverth. (Chuckles)

It's funny, the way it spirals.
You know - A tells B. B tells C. C's got a friend.

- A lot of work for you, though, isn't it?
- Well, it's a boost to our sagging economy.

Yes. Besides, it shows off your sexy legs.

Hey, don't do that! Don't do that.

Hey, we might get a chicken house out of this.
We've bought the gear for the roof.

Shall I make a start on it?

After all, I did do roofing last week in class.

No, no. You've got enough to do,
with me pottering all day.

I tell you what - we'll get a bloke into do it.
We can afford it now.

- Yes, all right.
- Right. Now, where are we?

Ah, yes. Six goblets for Mr Weaver's secretary.

- And no questions asked.
- (Chuckles)

MARGO: Get away, you filthy animall
- Margo's home.

(Laughing) Oh, my God!

Look what Geraldine's doing!

MARGO: Ow!
- Now, Margo, do try and see the funny side!

- Tom...
- Yeah?

What county's Avon in?

- It's not.
- Oh, don't be daft. It's got to be somewhere.

No, Avon is a county. One of those new lot.

Oh. Well, where is it?

Oh... northwest, southeast. I don't know.

- Who changed them all, anyway?
- Him.

- Who?
- Bloke who made us have decimal coinage.

Right, that's... Oi, you're slipping.

There's no label on this one.

That's because it's an empty box.

Oh, yeah, so it is.
Oh, well, send it somewhere, anyway.

The way my luck's running,
I'll get a cheque by return.

"Dear Sir, Thank you for your empty box.
Please find enclosed £10."

It's not luck. You're becoming a cottage industry.

Yeah, I am, yeah. I wonder if I might get
a government grant to get myself renovated.

Well, as long as they don't nationalise you.

Barbara, Tom, I've got the most wonderful news!

What?

- Guess who we've just had to dinner.
- Who?

- Celia Fishwick.
- That's fantastic.

- Yes, isn't it?
- Who the hell is Celia Fishwick?

They haven't got extrasensory perception.

Oh, I'm sorry.
I forgot how out of touch with Chelsea you are.

Now,
Celia Fishwick owns Gallery Celia in Chelsea.

Just round the corner from Rosetti's wall plaque.

- Is that the wonderful news?
- The wonderful news

is that Celia wants to sell your pottery.

- Does she, really?
- Yeah.

She saw your goblets,
and she's offering you a retail outlet.

Obviously an intelligent woman.

No, don't you see? You could sell your pottery
at Chelsea prices. This could be big, Tom.

Yeah! Blimey, I'd have to work like stink.

Well, obviously,
and you couldn't do it as an amateur.

I mean, it would have to be streamlined.

- How do you mean?
- Proper presentation. Celia does that.

What you'd have to do is run the business
like a business, and not like an amateur thing.

Proper invoicing, proper accounts.

- I can keep books.
- We'd need the phone back on.

- No, I think we'd need a van.
- Should we form a limited company?

But then we'd need an accountant.

So, we get one. This is really something!

Well, you've come the long way,
but welcome to the human race.

I'm so pleased for both of you.
At last, you'll be normal, sane people again.

Eurghh!

- What did I say?
- "Normal people." We don't want to be normal.

- Oh, Lord!
- I said we should get a van. I'm sorry.

I said an accountant. I'm sorry, Barbara.

- Do you realise we paid a bloke to do our roof?
- Yes.

We'd have ended up
with an au pair and an ulcer.

Jerry, what are they talking about?

Self-sufficiency. We've lost them.

Do you realise
we almost got seduced back into the rat race?

Yeah, the only thing we want to be seduced by
is each other.

Jerry, they are becoming incoherent and vulgar.
Do something.

Well, what's the point?
They've got that fanatical, masochistic look.

- Well, say something.
- Oh, very well.

Good night, peasants.

- No, you've got to say more than that!
- I can't.

- But we've promised Celia...
- (Bickering)

Huh! You were right, you know.

It was a kind of madness.

I know.

- Tom...
- Yes, love?

Say something reassuring.

All right. We haven't got enough fertiliser
for the allotments.

Three of the chickens are on the blink.

We've run out of tea,
and I think the pig's got lice.

That's wonderful!

- I'm sorry I let you down.
- You didn't let me down.

I'm very proud of you.

The children will be proud of you, as well.

Yeah...

Children? You're not...?

No, no. The cat's going to have kittens.

Oh! Phew.

It can't. It's a tom.

Well, you know toms, Tom.

They can do anything.