Original subtitles

Now, come on, Geraldine. You're not trying. Now, squeeze.

It's not good enough, you know. You're supposed to fill this thing.

Now, come on. One, two. One, two. One, two.

One, two. One, two.

(Thud)

Tom, put that stone down!

Tom, don't be childish. Now, come here.

Blasted thing, leaking oil all over our garden.

Don't be so childish. Come here.

Come here.

Come on.

Come on.

Come on, give it to me.

Put that stone down!

Anyway, it's not all over the garden, is it?

No, no, no. Just a dirty great chunk of it, that's all.

I mean, look at it, look at it. Like Texas gone wrong.

How far does it reach over there?

That's what I'm trying to find out.

Well, it's as far as that, for a start.

It's ruined the soil, you know, utterly ruined. It's polluted.

We shan't be able to grow anything in this for years.

Nothing at all?

Not unless you know some oil-loving plants.

How about linseed?

They produce it. They don't grow in it.

Oh!

(Thud)

Marvellous, isn't it?

Nothing like starting the day with a nice little catastrophe.

Two catastrophes.

- Don't joke. - I'm not. Look.

I suppose you remembered to warm your hands under the hot tap

before you started milking?

Oh, I've tried that.

Now, look here, you.

(Yells)

(Door opens)

Well, I finally coaxed something out of her.

Huh? Oh, good old Geraldine.

- I've never liked that goat. - Turncoat.

She's been a good friend to us. We've had a lot of milk out of her.

What's she gone on strike now for, then?

She's probably got something on her little mind.

She doesn't buck her ideas up, she'll have a poleaxe on her little mind.

- Everybody works here. - Yes, I can see that.

Well, Pythagoras, what's your latest theorem?

Well, it's a pigsty.

- We've got one. - I know.

We're moving the existing one onto that patch of oily ground.

Make the pigs little stilts to walk about on, presumably.

A new design, concrete floor. It's the only way.

We'll still have the same amount of growing land.

I thought you said we were just going to move the topsoil.

Yeah, well, I was being a bit optimistic.

We'd have to go down a yard at least. That's what? Here, look.

Ayard by 15 yards by 10 yards. That's 150 cubic yards of earth to shift.

- That's a lot, isn't it? - Yes.

We'd end up with a dirty great pit and a slipped disc each. No.

Moving the pigsty's the best idea.

- There's a flaw. - I know.

I told you, it's made of concrete.

No, no, no. A-W flaw. There is a flaw with the floor.

What flaw's that?

We haven't got any money for the floor.

There is that. None?

�1.83.

- I'll sell my watch. - You've sold your watch.

Oh, yes, yes. I'll sell my hair to a wig maker.

Better, I'll sell your hair to a wig maker.

No, there are limits. I'm not going bald for the bottom of a pigsty.

- Cup of coffee? - Yes.

The wheel of fortune seems to have got stuck on Hard Luck, You Lose these days.

Oh, ta. Thanks very much.

Coffee, coffee.

(Whistles)

What... No, no, no. We're not selling our records.

Why not? We've sold the record player.

I know that, but there's a lot of sentimental value there.

Not that we're sentimental.

No.

- Ah, look. - Oh, yeah. That one, yeah.

- Do you remember this? - Yeah.

Yes, we used to do heavy breathing to that in your mum's front room.

- Yes. - Yeah. What have we got?

Haven't looked at these for...

We've got all the Shostakovich symphonies here.

- Took us years to get those. - Oh, look. Humphrey Lyttelton as a boy.

Oh, yeah. I bought you that one Christmas, I think.

No, you didn't. It's got Surbiton Record Library stamped on it.

Oh, yeah, well, I've been meaning to take that back.

Since 1964?

Well, we couldn't afford the fine now anyway.

Like looking through a photograph album.

Yes, there are all sorts of memories there.

- Sill... - Still, we need that concrete.

And they're about the only things we've got left worth selling.

(Sighs)

Apart from the goat.

- Margo? (Alarm rings)

(Yells)

Oh.

(Alarm stops)

Good evening, Tom. Good evening, Barbara.

- What happened? What did we do? - Its a burglar alarm I've had fitted.

You broke an invisible beam.

- I can't see anything. - You wouldn't, would you?

- Oh, no, no. - I must telephone the police.

But there's no need, Margo. You know who we are.

No, the alarm is directly linked.

I don't want them sending out people unnecessarily.

Hello. Mrs Leadbetter speaking.

Yes, it did. But I'm terribly sorry, it was a false alarm.

Could you recall your people?

What do you mean, you haven't alerted a panda yet?

No, you listen to me.

What is the point of my investing in a very expensive burglar alarm

if you're going to ignore it?

It was not only ten seconds ago. It's been a good two minutes.

And you'll take that edge out of your voice, whoever you are,

unless you want your bumblings reported to the chief constable.

As a matter of fact, he is. Goodbye.

Wretch.

Float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.

Well, why not? I could be murdered in my bed by now.

- Waving that thing about? - Oh, this doesn't work.

- I only wish it did. - Why are you so security-conscious?

Because of the current rash of burglaries. You must have heard.

- No. - Oh, no. Of course.

You're totally devoid of any normal social contact these days, aren't you?

Well, we heard that the war was over. We've heard that the Kaiser go beaten.

Several houses quite near to the avenue.

They'd have a rough time if they broke into ours. Nothing left worth pinching.

No, that's true.

Oh, which brings us to our LPs. Margo, we want to sell them.

Oh, dear. How much?

No, no, no, not you. You've done enough for us already.

We thought possibly someone from the music society.

Must be one of them that's musical.

One would have thought so.

But as they voted to do Sweet Charity instead of The Merry Widow,

I have my doubts.

- Would you ask them, though? - There's some good records there.

Of course. Though it pains me to see you both sinking lower into the mire.

Blimey, we're not starving. It's just going towards a new pigsty.

Tom, Barbara, listen to me.

No, I'm serious. Now, come on, admit it. You are decaying, aren't you?

No, we're not. We're just going through a bad patch.

Which is made all the more poignant

by the fact that our star seems to be in the ascendant.

Jerry getting the managing directorship?

- Yes. - Don't count your chickens, Margo.

Slimy Snetterton's still in the race, wriggling away like mad.

Which is what Atlee did after the war and we lost Churchill.

So be warned.

Couldn't happen. Andrew couldn't possibly choose a man who is a deviate

with a suspect nose and gumboils.

At least you won't have the embarrassment

of living next door to a couple of scruffs.

- I expect you'll be off to Weybridge. - Oh, no.

I used to hold Weybridge in very high esteem.

- What's it done? - Allowed pop stars to buy houses.

I'd sooner look over the fence at your pigs

than at a pink-haired monstrosity with high heels and acne.

(Door closes) - Oh, there's Jerry now.

Ah.

Evening, Jerry. Any news?

Yes. I didn't get it.

Sir's taken Snetterton to dinner.

Well, that doesn't mean that he's gonna get the job.

- Perhaps they were just hungry. - Come on.

There's only one construction you can put on that.

It's sir's last day, Black Friday, and he chooses to take Snetterton to dinner.

- Then he's gone mad. - Possibly.

Sue him.

You can't sue a man for having a preference.

No, he's the managing director. He's a very experienced man.

One must respect his decision.

Stupid, short-sighted old pillock.

(Clattering)

Good morning.

I've just about had enough of this.

I only said good morning.

Mice. We've got mice now.

Oh, no. How do you know?

I haven't been nibbling away in the spare bedroom, have 1?

- We've got all our veg up there. - I know. What's more, the mice know.

That's all we needed, a mob of greedy rodents

taking the food out of our mouths.

- Never mind. - Well.

Never mind.

4 Happy birthday J

That's another thing.

I'm older.

- Thanks, love. - There's more.

Happy anniversary!

- Anniversary of what? - All this. The founding of our empire.

Don't you remember? It was two years ago on your birthday.

You woke me up in the middle of the night with this crazy idea

about trying to become self-sufficient.

So it was. Shouldn't have listened to me, should you?

- Yes. - Empire. Margo's quite right.

- It's decaying all over the place. - You are a fine birthday boy.

Well, look at us. If it's not the mice, it's the only oil slick in Surbiton.

If it's not that, it's a dried-up goat, and the sole's coming off your shoe.

- I mended it. - Two years.

What happened to all our plans?

- Do you want a cake in your face? - Well.

I'll tell you what happened to all our plans.

We carried most of them out and made most of them work.

We feed ourselves. We keep ourselves warm.

We're not at anybody's beck and call. We have almost learnt to do without money.

Only 'cause we haven't got any.

We didn't go into it to make a fortune. We knew that from the start.

We just went in to see what it was like being alive.

I know, but when [ think of you sometimes...

Look, you'll get one of these in each ear hole in a minute.

I'll tell you something, Tom Good.

These have been the happiest two years of my life.

Really?

Truly.

- That's my doing, isn't it? - That's better.

That's more like my bighead.

- Cake? - Yeah.

I've got a better idea. Jerry and Margo need cheering up.

We'll ask them over and have cakes and champagne.

Lovely. Where are we going to get the champagne?

Jerry's bringing it. It's my birthday present.

How do you know that Jerry's getting you champagne for your birthday?

I told him to.

Jerry, which do you prefer? Wanton or irresponsible?

Wanton, I think.

Yes.

Wanton behaviour. Yes.

Who are you writing to, Miss Mountshaft?

No. It's to the Times, actually.

What are you writing to the Times about?

You.

- What? - Listen.

'Sir, is it any wonder that British industry is the lame dog of Europe

when so-called managing directors are incapable of making rational decisions?

How can Great Britain become great again

when such wanton behaviour and crass stupidity as..."

Then I'm going on to say how Andrew didn't give you his job.

- That's libel. - The truth is never libellous.

You are worth ten of Snetterton.

I must say, darling, I do appreciate the way you're backing me up in this.

I'm your wife, Jerry.

Is hobbledehoy hyphenated?

Twice, probably. Margo.

Yes.

What would you say if I were to resign?

- Are you thinking of resigning? - It has crossed my mind.

I don't really like Snetterton. In fact, I loathe him.

It'll stick in my craw to have to call him sir.

I could call him cur.

I don't usually like puns, Jerry, but that is brilliant.

It's a very big step, of course. Might have to lower our sights a bit.

Jerry, if it meant retaining our self-respect,

I would be willing to start all over again,

even if it meant moving to Epsom.

Thank you, darling.

(Doorbell)

I'll go.

Now, riff-raff. Yes, that's good.

- Oh, it's you, sir. Come on in. - Hello, Jerry.

It's Andrew, darling.

- Evening, Margo. - Evening.

Well, I suppose I'm a bit of a surprise packet, aren't 17

MARGO: That's one way of putting it.

You'd better sit down. I'll get you a drink.

Oh, that's very civil of you, Jerry.

Yes, civility is a quality that Jerry has never lacked.

Well, I had a very pleasant dinner with Snetterton last night.

- Did you really? - Yes, very pleasant.

Mostly business, of course. Talked quite a lot about you, Jerry.

Yes, I imagine you would have done.

Thank you. Do you want to know what I said?

You're obviously going to tell me.

If you think I'm going to jump through hoops to hurry you up, you're mistaken.

Bravo, Jerry.

Hello, Margo.

Sorry to barge in, but we thought we'd...

Oh. Sorry. You're busy. We'll come back later.

No, no, no. Dear Tom and Barbara, come in.

We're never to busy to entertain real friends.

Sit down. I'll get you some good brandy.

- Come round to have a bit of a gloat? - Never mince words, eh?

- I don't have to, mate. - Neither do I. You're crackers.

- Oh, and the little woman too. - Don't you patronise me.

Well, old Andy doesn't seem to be the flavour of the month, does he?

Not unless this month's flavour is yuck.

- It's all over now, Tom. - No, you carry on, Tom.

I was going to. I'll tell you one thing.

Choosing Snetterton was the biggest clanger you've ever dropped.

- I didn't. - You did.

What about serving roast suckling pig to that trade delegation from Israel?

No, I mean I didn't choose Snetterton.

Then why did you take him to dinner... sir?

Well, old softy, I suppose.

If you're gonna tell a chap he's lost,

you might as well soften the blow with a decent meal.

Then...

Yes, Jerry. You are JUM's new managing director.

Oh, Jerry!

Thank you very much indeed, Andrew.

You assume the crown as to the manor born, Jerry.

Next stop the palace.

- My noble legion. - Quiet, please.

Would it be indiscrete to ask what it was that finally swayed your decision?

No, it was that format that you gave me a couple of weeks ago.

Fine piece of work, that.

I like the fact that you did it in your own time as well,

and you didn't use company paper.

Sorry I was a bit snappy, Andy.

Yes, Tom. You really must think before you speak.

No, no, no. Well, call it a fault if you like,

actually I find acrimony quite entertaining.

Well, what are you going to do now you've retired?

Take up all-in wrestling?

No. I'll tell you what I'm going to do.

And this is going to come as a shock to all of you.

But I'm going to follow the example of two young people

that I hold in the very highest esteem.

- Who? - You two.

Us?

I've always said that you were one of the wittiest men in London, Andrew.

- That is priceless. - I'm quite serious.

No, I'm casting the mask aside now. This is the real me talking.

I am going to try the old hand at self-sufficiency.

I was right. You are crackers.

- Are you two crackers? - Well, yes, but we admit it.

This appointment of mine, it is official, isn't it?

- I mean, it has been confirmed? - Yes, of course.

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking the old warhorse has pulled a hamstring in his last charge.

No, no. I'm in deadly earnest.

But, Andrew, it'll have the effect of burning your social credentials.

Well, do Tim and Fatima worry about that?

Well, no, but we hadn't very many to start with.

Oh, no. No, I've come to realise there's a lot of you two in me.

Yes, after all these... these years in commerce, it's all so...

- Grubby? - Basic.

The soil, the air, reproduction!

I'm not going to insulate myself from reality any more.

I'm going to touch it every day. That's where I'm going. Out there!

A free spirit at last!

(Alarm blares)

Burglar alarm.

Any chance of the good brandy now?

- Where was I? - You were ringing the bells of freedom.

Oh, yes. Oh, yes! Very aptly put, Tim.

Excuse me a moment. Oh, hello, police. Mrs Leadbetter speaking.

One assumes that you haven't got round to sending out a pan...

Oh, you have. Oh, well, in that case it was a false alarm.

Yes, again. My ideas are bucked up, thank you very much.

And if it happens 50 times, the burden of responsibility is still yours.

Goodbye.

I'm so sorry.

Andy, you're not really serious about this?

- Totally, Tim. - A lot of trouble with the neighbours.

Won't bother me. Cutting meself off.

I've bought a little place in Devon.

I've, uh, got a photograph of it somewhere.

Oh, yes, there we are.

Good grief!

Viscount Plymouth's old place.

Just a manor house and a couple of hundred acres.

You're really going to rough it, aren't you?

Only 12 staff, you know.

All that overseeing.

Won't bother me. Buy meself a hack.

You sure you got the idea from us?

Yes, see one, play one.

From now on, we are birds of a feather, we three.

Sons of the sod.

If you ever want to borrow a fork...

Thanks, Tim. Well, I must push now.

Ordered meself a new tractor and want to see what the chap's given me.

Well, congratulations, Jerry, and good luck.

Thank you, Andrew. Same to you.

Napoleon once said that every soldier

carries a marshal's baton in his knapsack.

I want you to know, Margo,

that I've always thought of you as Jerry's baton.

Thank you very much.

Barbara.

You called me Barbara. You've always known my real name, haven't you?

Yes, sorry about that. Bit of a habit.

Call people by the wrong name, puts them at a disadvantage. Old executive ploy.

Cheerio, Tim.

Cheerio, Fred.

Will you excuse me for a moment?

Whe-hey!

Jerry! That is no way for a managing director to behave.

- But we're ever so pleased. - Well done, mate!

Oh, I'm so excited. I want to do something.

We'll go next door and have a double celebration.

Oh, yes, it's your 78th birthday, isn't it? Of course.

Oi, oil Sirl

- Haven't you forgotten something? - Oh, yes, of course.

- Happy birthday. - Oh, Jerry, you shouldn't have.

I say, I say. Do you feel a conga coming on?

- I do. I definitely do. - Oh, goody good. Come on, Margo.

- No, not in the avenue. - Particularly in the avenue.

(Sing conga tune)

- Goon. - Well, I can't.

Oh!

Line up, line up, line up.

(Sing conga tune)

(Singing continues)

MARGO: Oh, my dear God.

Oh... Tom.

The sort of people who do this call the police pigs.

That's it, the police. Margo, go and phone the police.

I'll... I'll go and have a look around.

Why us, Tom?

And why all this?

I don't know, love.

They're just maniacs.

Only a maniac would do this.

But it's our house.

I know.

The only one in the avenue without anything worth pinching, so they...

I'll Kill them.

If they catch 'em and I find 'em, I'll Kill 'em.

They've torn your birthday card.

Not much consolation, but they don't seem to have touched anything else.

- Thanks, Jerry. - Oh, well.

Won't have got the birthday cake, then.

- They've caught them. - What?

The car that came to answer my false alarm

caught them breaking into a house further down the avenue.

Right.

- No, Tom. Don't. - No.

I hope they throw the book at them.

If I had my way, it would be 99 years plus.

Well, wouldn't put all this back together again, would it?

No.

Now, listen to me, Tom. You too, Barbara.

You've got to call it a day.

Nothings gone right for you lately, and now this.

There's only one solution, Tom. You've got to come back to work.

You can have your old job back again tomorrow, I can promise you that.

Even if it's only just till you get back on your feet again.

Please.

I know why Geraldine isn't giving us any milk.

Why?

She needs to be mated again, that's why.

Yes, of course.

What made you think of that?

I don't know. Just thinking about tomorrow, I suppose.

Well, now, who do we know that's got a billy goat?

Old Andy. He'll have hundreds.

We'll get him to come and collect Geraldine in the Rolls.

You can't. You just can't.

We can. She can sit in the back seat and look out of the window.

What does it take to make you people give up?

I'll tell you, Jerry, they're gonna have to knock down the house,

cart away the garden and then they're gonna have to nail us both to the floor.

Yeah, anyway, this isn't our failure. It's somebody's else's.

We can cope with our own failures. We have one every other day.

- Well, I've only got one thing to say. BARBARA: What?

- Let's get out the glasses. - Good idea.

(Cork pops)

I always said that you two were foolhardy.

But, my word, if there were more people with your spirit in this country,

we'd still have an empire.

We'll do that next year. There you are, look at that.

We're on the way up already, you see?

Well, Jerry, here's to you.

Oh, no. I've only become a managing director.

You've just taken life by the throat and throttled it to death.

I don't understand that.

No, neither do. Still, I know what I mean.

Anyway, we're drinking to Tom and Barbara and their bizarre life.

It may be bizarre, Jerry, but it's a good life.

Yes, that's it, that's it.

Here's to the good life.

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