All language subtitles for My Family - S03E02 - Shrink Wrap

- I hate you.
- No, that's my line.

- I said it first.
- I am never taking you shopping again.

- Ooh, scary.
- Did you have fun, dear?

It is the general consensus that Dad is
the most embarrassing being on earth.

Michael,
general consensus is redundant.

It's the consensus that your father's
the most embarrassing being on earth.

I cancelled a patient
so I could ferry you around.

I could have been lancing Mr Potter's
lower gum and having a better time.

Don't ask me what happened.

We were at PC World, right,
looking at computers.

The next minute, bang, he's gone.
Disappeared.

- Did he run away?
- I wish.

- He was sulking in the car.
- What did you do this time?

- Why d'you make it sound like my fault?
- Experience.

Susan, all I did was devote the entire
afternoon to our charming little boy.

I took him to the shops,
chatted to his friends...

- Oh.
- I swear to you I said nothing wrong.

Nothing. I just said, "Hi, I'm
Michael's dad. What's that game about?"

- That was all.
- (Michael) And his flies were open.

Do you think I did that on purpose?

Look at computers
and flash a couple of spotty oiks?

Your oiks aren't spotty, dear.

Why did we have them?

I believe it had something to do with
wanting to show me a good time.

- Well, I was wrong.
- You were then, too.

- What's that?
- I'm writing Janey a letter.

Oh, they've cut off her phone, then?

We write all the time. It's a civilised
and unhurried way of communicating.

- So when did they cut off her phone?
- Yesterday.

- You'd better send her a cheque.
- He is... quite impossible.

And secretive.

I was tidying up his room
and found this... ahem... his desk.

Was that "Ahem... on his desk"
or "Ahem... in his desk"?

- Does it matter?
- In court, yes.

One's invasion of privacy,
the other's being sneaky.

What you call being sneaky
I call being a parent.

You can't snoop through his drawers.
We might have to deal with something.

- Like this.
- Oh, God.

It's from his school,
it's addressed to us and he's hidden it.

- What does that tell you?
- That he doesn't want us to find it.

It's inviting us to a fundraiser
for the drama course Michael's joined.

- An auction of promises.
- That's what we have to deal with?

Isn't that enough? He hid it from us.

Finding crack cocaine in his desk,
we'd have to deal with.

Finding a ransom note,
we'd have to deal with.

Finding a naked picture of
Ewan McGregor, you'd have to deal with.

- You're missing the point.
- I try.

He doesn't want us to go because
somebody's an embarrassing parent.

- All I did was hang out with his friends.
- Literally.

- Susan.
- Michael!

- No.
- Shh.

Michael, it's all right, he's left the room.

- He's still here.
- No, I'm sulking in the car.

Michael, why have you
hidden this from us?

- I don't want to talk about it.
- You have to.

I took a course in sensitivity training.

- You dropped out.
- Because I already knew everything.

Forget it.

If you don't want to discuss this, we'll
discuss the other things in your desk.

Those magazines were Nick's.

Michael, your mother can go
to the auction on her own, OK,

if I'm one of the most
embarrassing parents on the earth.

No, cos she's the other one.

Don't... touch me.

- We're losing him, Ben.
- Yep.

Two down, only Nick to go.

This is a cry for help. When Michael says
he doesn't want us to go to the auction...

- He doesn't want us to go.
- No.

What he says and what he means
are two different things.

He gets that from his mother's side.

Don't blame me.
It's you who embarrasses him.

Do you have selective deafness?
He said you were an embarrassment too.

- You're a bigger embarrassment.
- Is this a competition?

- No, of course not. But you win.
- Ye...

Susan, read my lips.
Michael does not want us to go.

Well, read my lips. We're going.

Susan, no. I am not going
to some stupid school auction

to pay for some polenta-loving earth
mother to feng-shui my personal space.

She won't have any problem
finding your toxic corner.

- Ben...
- Oh, please. Stop it.

These things are a chance for
so-called parents to show off their jobs.

Well, I'm proud of my job.

Maybe I'll donate
a tour of celebrity graves.

Take people
round the churchyards of London.

Karl Marx in Highgate, Mary
Wollstonecraft in St Pancras churchyard.

- What do you think?
- Mm.

Never has the phrase deadly boring
been more appropriate.

What have you got to offer?
A lecture on brushing?

New theories on up and down?

I might be able to pledge
something that people really want.

Oh. Like what?

A session in scale, clean and polish.

(Snores)

OK, two sessions.

- Fine, I'll tell them in the morning.
- You will not.

- Good night.
- I... No...

30, thank you. Do I have 35?

35, thank you, sir. 40?

Surely I hear L40 somewhere for
Mr Greevy's power tool safety course?

- Why are you smirking?
- Have you seen the nonsense on offer?

"Two free organ lessons. Impress
your friends at all the weddings."

Oh. "Grow your own cheese kit.
Feast on your own Brie."

You're jealous you don't have
a hobby that benefits anybody else.

- I play golf.
- You own clubs.

- Don't look.
- Where? Where? Where?

What part of "don't look"
did you confuse with "look"?

I have to see what not to look at, or I'd
look by mistake and destroy your life.

It's a former patient
I don't want to talk to.

- You'll have to narrow it down a bit.
- It's Mr Spufford.

He's got terrible breath.

Every time I went to examine him
he'd open his mouth to talk

and I was the one
who had to rinse and spit.

At least he's not your patient any more.

No, because he's
on the surgery blacklist.

What, like poor old Miss Neville
and her glass eye?

- You can't veto your patients.
- Why not? Enough of them veto me.

I can't work with that eye watching me.

Thank you, madam.

Our next lot in the catalogue
is a late entry

and it's a tour
of London's theatrical heritage.

- That's me. Wish me luck.
- Very topical, I'm sure you agree.

Kindly donated by Michael's mother,
Mrs Harper.

Shall we start off at, say, L25?
Do I hear 25? 25.

Do I hear 30? Thank you, sir.

Do I hear 35?

I hear this is a wonderful tour.

There's a rumour's
that you meet the Queen.

- (Auctioneer) 45, thank you.
- L50.

L50.

- Mr Harper?
- (lnhales)

I thought it was you.

- How nice to see you here.
- (Auctioneer) 55.

I've been trying
to make an appointment with you

but your assistant tells me you're
fully booked for the next three years.

I'm sure you can squeeze me in,
can't you?

(Auctioneer) 60.

- Is everything OK? You look flushed.
- (Coughs)

- L70 with the gentleman in the blazer.
- No. No.

- 75. 80.
- That's the spirit.

- Nice to do something for the kids.
- (Coughing)

So at L95, going once, going twice...

Sold to Mr and Mrs Brenning,

whose daughter Kate will play the part
of Nerissa, the maid,

in our latest production.

Yes! Did you see that?

A close-run thing
between the Brennings and the Bushells.

- This is such a buzz.
- Isn't it just?

Whoa!

You must be Mr... Spufford.

- Yeah. How did you know?
- Ben was just telling me about the...

You'll have to excuse me. I promised
to speak to somebody way over there.

I'm sure my diary will free up sometime,
so keep trying.

In the meantime,
keep doing a lot of brushing. OK?

Isn't it brilliant? L95 for my tour.

Hm! Suckers!

So, moving along now, a pledge
you won't find in your catalogues.

A contribution of dental services.

Hey-hey! That's me.

Who will start me off for a complete
session of clean, scale and polish...

donated by Ben Harper?

Susan? Susan? Susan?

Come, now, parents.
This is for the children.

Surely someone will start me off.

- L10.
- Thank you, sir. L10.

Susan. Susan.

The Queen? I heard that rumour too.
I have no idea where it started.

L10? Is that all I have?

Very well. Going once, going twice...

(Nasal voice) L50.

I have L50 bid.

L50 and five pence.

- L55.
- L55 and five pence.

- L80.
- L80 bid.

L80 and five pence.

- L100.
- And five pence.

L150.

Do I have any advance on L150,
ladies and gentlemen?

L150 and three pence.

- L500.
- L500 and...

L1,000.

Sir?

No, forget it. He's not worth it.

That's an amazing L1,000.
Surely a record for this auction.

Going once, going twice...

Sold to the man over...

Crouching behind that vaulting horse.

(Susan laughs)

I hope you're not writing to Janey
about the auction.

No, no, of course not.

- How do you spell Spufford?
- Fine. Go on, humiliate me.

OK. Spufford.

- Write your own letter.
- She never writes to me.

- You never write to her.
- I wrote this morning. Heh-heh.

I sent her a parental haiku.

"Enclosed is cheque.
You bleed me dry. Stop it."

I hope you'll include
how out of control you were tonight.

I wasn't out of control.
I got into the spirit of the evening.

You were high as a kite,
like an auction junkie.

- I bid on a few things.
- Every item is not "a few things".

- But I won.
- We didn't win. We paid for everything.

All my lots put together

wouldn't even come close to the L1,000
you shelled out on your own pledge.

At least I got something useful.

A year's supply of pet food.
We don't even have a pet.

I was going to bid on the dog
until you started screaming like a girl.

A personalised family headstone.

I don't want to be buried with you lot.
Living with you is bad enough.

- And the colonic irrigation.
- We were outbid on that.

Oh, I'm so disappointed.

- I won the couples' therapy session.
- We do not need couples' therapy.

I think it would benefit us.

It's a cathartic experience
unburdening yourself to a stranger.

But you didn't win the colonic irrigation.

- The therapy.
- I am the last person to need therapy.

- Should I read something into that?
- Absolutely not.

I have to write this down.

So...

You think I need therapy, huh?

- Well, you do have, erm... issues.
- I do not.

- You do.
- I do not.

I've paid for this therapy
and I'm not wasting it.

It would be like cooking a meal
and tipping it into the bin.

That's not a waste, that's a reprieve.

See, right there. Issues. Hostility.

My hostility is my comfort blanket
in a world conspiring against me.

- And paranoia.
- Susan, we are not going to therapy.

I am not baring my soul to some quack
because you won it in an auction.

Fine, fine, fine. I'll just go by myself.

- Oh, good. Thank you.
- I'll bare your soul.

- No...
- Good night.

I knew I should have bid
for that divorce lawyer.

You don't have to leave because of me.

- Yes, I do.
- No, you don't. Come here.

Your mother and I went
to your school auction tonight.

Why? Because I asked you not to?
Why don't you listen to me?

Michael, it's OK. It's cool. We didn't
do anything to embarrass you. Nothing.

I paid L1,000 to clean my own teeth.

Your mother bought
a personalised headstone

and a year's supply of dog food.

Great. They'll call me Dog Food Boy now.

Count yourself lucky. You were this
close to being the Colonic Irrigation Kid.

Lawrence, you're my therapist. Why
would a therapist lie to her therapist?

If I say I haven't had a cigarette
in three days, I haven't...

What do you mean, you can hear me?
What are you, a bat?

No, I'm not exhaling.
That's the air conditioning.

Oh, fine. There.
Crush, crush, crush, crush, crush.

Hear that? Happy now?
No, I don't need the patch.

Lawrence, I'm a professional.
I don't need a crutch every...

Right. Fine.

I'm putting it on.

You want to listen to that too?
Will that turn you on?

- (Buzzer)
- Oops, got to go. There's my 11 o'clock.

No, I'm not avoiding the issue.
I just don't want to talk about it.

(Blowing)

- Hello, Mrs Harper.
- Not late, not early, just right on time.

Not over-eager, not resistant.

- Are you writing that down?
- I'll make a mental note.

It's OK. I'll remember.

Are you joining us?

Don't worry, Mr Harper.
The first step is always the hardest.

- No, it isn't.
- Excuse me?

The first step is simply the warm-up
to the indignities of step two

and doesn't come close to preparing you
for the hell of steps three and beyond.

- That's a very negative view of therapy.
- No life.

Ooh! This is going to be fun.

This is an interesting piece. Makes me
think of movement, of soaring.

- Like an expressionist dance.
- It's an Aboriginal phallus.

Ah. My second choice.

And please, don't touch my things.
Thank you.

Why don't we take a seat
and get started?

- Ha!
- Sorry, what's so funny?

Where you chose to sit. The beanbag
symbolises your frustrated inner child.

It symbolises it's closest to the door.

Explain to him that every choice in here
reveals a subconscious desire.

- That's my chair.
- Ah, right.

Why not take the couch?

The couch.

Should I remove my shoes? This is my
first time and I didn't expect "the couch".

- To "sit on"?
- Oh, right.

Susan...

Susan, the beanbag
doesn't look so foolish now, does it?

Oh, for God's sake, take the chair.

No, I like the couch.

Sorry. I'm sorry.
It's been a rough morning.

Do you want to talk about it?

Yes. For the past three...

- You're good.
- Thank you.

I don't think that's a compliment.

- Are you trying to embarrass me?
- No, it's fairly effortless.

- Just...
- What?

And bring my hidden child
next to your hidden Fuhrer?

Fine. Sit alone, sleep alone. In hospital.

Right.

So, Mr and Mrs Harper...

- Sit here.
- What difference does it make?

I want to be near the tissues
in case I start to cry.

OK?

Oh, Susan, please.

- Move over. Out of my way.
- For God's sake!

We're halfway through
and you've almost decided where to sit.

That's a record.

- He started it.
- You're trying to control everything.

- I am not.
- Yes, you are.

My wife... My wife is a total control freak.

We will rendezvous at the cinema
at precisely 1900 hours

and marshal our forces for an assault
on Carluccio's at 2140.

We have no reservation so you will likely
have to lay down your life to get in.

Small sacrifice,
but his cream truffle sauce is worth it.

Yes, ma'am. Carluccio's 2140.
Attack head waiter, get table. Sir!

Call that a response,
you horrible little man?

- Get down and give me 50.
- Yes, ma'am.

Two... three...

Is that how you see me?
No, don't even answer.

I am a saint.

(American accent) Ben, honey,
I thought you might like a snack

so I whipped up your favourite

and I'll feed it to you myself, by hand,

so you don't even have to move.

(Belches) Get outta here.

- You're insane.
- I'm not.

- You never bring me snacks.
- Yesterday.

- (TV on)
- Ben, could you open this?

Thank you.

That's not bringing me a snack.

Olives are snack food.
I brought them to you. Case closed.

Why don't we start with
simpler questions, like your names?

- Ben and Susan Harper.
- No, it's not.

- What?
- Excuse me just a moment.

- What are you talking about?
- (Susan whispers)

So your name is not Susan Harper?

- No, Harper is my slave name.
- Oh, my God.

I wanted to keep my name
at our wedding

but a male-dominated society
insisted I change it.

- I thought you liked Harper.
- It's nothing personal.

But I liked my name. It was like
a comfortable and cosy home.

I feel when I got married
I was evicted from it.

An exile to live in a hovel
in a swamp filled with surly lizards.

What part
shouldn't I take personally here?

So what, Susan... X, is your real name?

- Susan Ryman.
- Your maiden name is Riggs.

Maiden name?

Good. Follow that thought.

I'm going back to the beanbag. It's safer.

Will you relax?
We're trying to get somewhere.

So am I. Out.

So why is your inner name Ryman?

Harper was his name, Riggs was my
father but Ryman was my grandmother.

- She chose it herself. No men involved.
- She was reared by wolves.

Do you want to be constructive
or sit there carping?

I'll sit here carping.
I come from a long line of carpers.

It's where the name Harper originated,
you know.

Well, I think name is pretty well covered.

We'll skip address
since we only have an hour.

Excuse me just a moment.

- Ryman?
- In my heart.

In your heart, yeah.
Ryman, not Rywoman?

I saw a television programme
about therapy once

where patients smacked each other
with soft rubber mallets.

Do we have any of those?

Anything harder?

So as we slouch on to Bethlehem

we've chosen our seats,
we've learned our names...

- Don't forget our children's names.
- God.

- Nick, Janey and Michael.
- In our heart, Huey, Dewey and Louie.

And they happen to be lovely.

- Michael is my rock.
- I can't breathe.

- Janey's an angel.
- I hate you!

And Nick is...

our eldest.

I'm an astronaut.

I'm forming
a motorcycle stunt display team.

Sperm donor.

- He's a pillock.
- He's finding himself.

Ah. Unemployable.

- That's normal?
- I have one of those at home.

Slobs around all day making plans
and excuses till I'm ready to vomit.

Frankly I don't know
why I married the man.

But enough about me.

Look at the time. We'd best get on.

- I'm proud of our children.
- We have to be proud of our children.

It's the only thing
that stops us killing them.

It's been especially difficult
now that Janey's gone off to university.

- Wow, that was one hungry caterpillar.
- Ben's gone off the deep end.

We know what happened next.
The caterpillar turned into a moth.

- Butterfly.
- Same thing.

Maybe in your joyless world,
but to the rest of humanity...

As I was saying...

- And we are listening.
- You're not, you're talking.

I'm listening in a collaborative fashion.
It's part of the therapeutic process.

No, you're simply talking.

I listen to it endlessly.
Talk, talk, talk.

I thought therapy was the talking cure.

And Birmingham
is the jewel of the Midlands.

I've listened to you and your issues
are the same as everyone else's.

It all comes down to sex.

- I'm sorry?
- We haven't said a word about sex.

Exactly. What are you avoiding,
Ben and Susan Harper?

- I thought we agreed on Ryman.
- Stop that.

I want to discuss the sexual fantasy
Ben brought up earlier.

I don't think I mentioned
my sexual fantasy. Not that I have any.

Susan dressed in military uniform
ordering you to do press-ups.

- Please! That's comic exaggeration.
- I told you.

So you say, Mr Harper, but there are
no jokes in the subconscious.

- What are you avoiding?
- Talking about my sex life.

Much as I enjoy seeing him squirm,
we agreed to cut to the chase

and our sex life is fine, more than fine.
The rest of the day is hell.

He's negative, argumentative
and won't acknowledge feelings

except pretend glee that Janey's
left home, which is the issue he avoids.

It's ridiculous and sad and, frankly,
after living together all these years,

your silence on the subject
hurts my feelings.

So you really think our sex life is great?

- I said it was fine.
- No, you said it was more than fine.

And in a world filled
with humiliation and despair,

more than fine means great,
means the best we're gonna get.

And you're wrong about Janey.

I do think of her. Every day.

Being gone. Every day.

And I think back to her growing up

and I think to myself
that I've never read her a bedtime story.

- Do you want to talk about it?
- I just did.

- Come to think of it...
- I'm sorry. Time's up.

- I'd like to talk.
- It always happens.

50 minutes of resistance and just as
the time's up, "Ooh, I have an insight."

- I do have an insight.
- It won't last.

- Thank you for your time.
- That didn't seem like 50 minutes.

- It wasn't.
- Thank God for that. Come on.

Oh, and, Doctor...

Next time you try giving up,
do it on holiday.

- I thought you gave up.
- You said the same.

- But I did.
- Good. That packet was yours.

"I'm sorry to say that Peter
was not very well during the evening.

"His mother put him to bed
and made some camomile tea

"and she gave a dose of it to Peter.

"One tablespoon to be taken at bedtime.

"But Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail

"had bread and milk
and blackberries for supper.

"The end."

Good night, Janey. Good night.

Did you read the whole thing
over the phone to her?

Yeah, except she wasn't in,
so I read it to the answerphone.

If she didn't like it, to hell with her.

You silly old thing.

Now you've put the children to bed,
I'm going to have to put you to bed.

- It's way past your bedtime.
- Oh, really?

And since I might have to punish you,

I have slipped into something
a little more... constable.

Hm. Sorry, am I supposed
to laugh at that?

If you want to get your leg over, yes.

- (Laughs)
- Attention!

Sharp!

Very good.

Dad, I'm late for school.

One more page. OK?

On Friday, he ate through five oranges,
but he was still hungry.

Mum, he's doing it again!

And on Saturday he ate through
one piece of chocolate cake,

one ice-cream cone, one pickle...

(Michael) Mum!