Original subtitles

Good night, sweetheart.

All my prayers are for you. Good night,

sweetheart. I'll be watching all you.

Tears and parting may make us alone.

But will the dawn bring a new day?

Of course I still miss you.

Of course I haven't sought solace in the arms of another woman.

No, Ron has not led me astray, I promise you.

In fact, I've hardly seen him the last few days since he moved out. Yes!

Now, of course I can't wait to see you.

Yeah, all right. Yeah, I love you too.

What?

So does knobby knobbit, yes.

Well, that, needless to say, was Yvonne.

She's having a horrible time in Korea and wishes I was there.

But the good news is she'll be home soon and is eagerly looking forward to

cuddling up with her loving husband.

Assuming, and here I quote, that a certain scouse freeloader is no longer

dividing his time between sprawling his whale -like chassis all over her sofa

and ram -raiding her fridge.

I was on the verge of vanquishing Zargo, ruler of the black planet, rescuing

Princess Daxia and bamboozling the 15 shape -changing dwarfs of Mysteria.

Has anyone ever told you you're a sad bastard?

Stella.

You.

Yvonne. Stella's mum.

And that girl from the Kentucky Fried Chicken with the ring through her nose.

Who was that on the phone? Your formidable lady wife?

How do you guess?

Your cringing body language.

How is the ever -decreasingly little lady?

Bearing up.

Isn't that what women do when they have a baby?

That's bearing down.

I'll have to remember that.

So, is she okay?

Yeah. Except she's bored, lonely and suffering from permanent indigestion.

Korean food doesn't agree with her. I'm surprised Korean food has the nerve.

Still, she's really looking forward to getting home at the weekend, you know.

Seeing her own little house.

Being alone with her own little husband.

I think the roaring ogres of Zahm have affected my hearing.

You promised you'd find somewhere else to stay when Yvonne came back.

Fair enough.

There's still one whole day to go, though.

Who would game for him? I'd get lucky tonight.

Oh, you found a flat?

No, I found an orgy.

Empathy. A different kind of club for the unattached, where like -minded young

and wealthy professionals can make new friends in a relaxed, sophisticated

milieu. Yeah, but with luck it'll be a rabid meat market where women outnumber

men five to one.

Why don't you come along?

Oh, yet the last thing I need is a like -minded new friend of the opposite

gender. You could lend me moral support.

I don't think it's your morals that you want supporting.

Anyway, I promise to take Phoebe to see Mrs Miniver.

Who's she?

She's a film.

Oh, well.

I can hardly compete with slap and tickle in the back row of the Roxy.

Lipstick on your collar, the rustle of petticoats, the twanging of suspenders.

There's not going to be any slap and tickle.

Well, there might be a slap. I doubt there'll be any tickle.

still keeping herself pure for the sake of the unborn sparrow to be.

She's not starting her own religion, is she?

Why bother going back?

Because I love Phoebe and she loves me.

Well, I love Yvonne too, of course.

Of course.

But, I don't know, World War II just seems so much more tranquil than the

present day.

Phoebe isn't always arguing and assuming I'm always wrong.

Plus, she's expecting my baby.

Isn't everybody?

You can still go out, though.

Oh, come on, five women to every man. Sex isn't everything, Ron.

From my perspective, it isn't anything.

If I go on my own, perhaps I'll break my duck.

I don't think you'll impress anyone if you take your bath toys with you.

Maybe I'll meet a beautiful, lonely millionaireess with her own penthouse,

Well, save you having to buy a copy, wouldn't it?

That was the best film I've ever seen.

I preferred Forrest Gump.

I mean, that's come round this way, yeah?

Where are you going?

Back to the Royal Oak, of course.

Via the chip shop, just in case they're frying tonight.

They're not.

The ship bringing the lard in got sunk.

Oh. Oh, well, looking on the bright side, next time they haul the nets in,

fish will be ready cooked. Come on.

We can't go. We missed the first five minutes, didn't we?

Yeah, but we know what happens, don't we?

Hitler is vanquished by Greer Garson and a load of upper -class English

villagers with posh accents.

Don't run it, Gary.

I saw you wipe away a tear.

Yeah, when I burnt my hand on that bloke's woodbine.

Anyway, I thought they had lovely speaking voices.

Wish I sounded like that.

You're joking.

I wish you spoke like that, too.

Oh, no way.

Can't stand all that la -di -da public school posing. Gets right up my nose.

And don't you just hate the way you never see anyone in the pictures who

like us?

What, unless they're playing funny working -class characters, going, Oh,

Governor, that's a smart tip for your wedding, and no mistake.

I'll chew it off and all.

Well, of course people don't talk like us in the flicks, cos we don't talk

proper, do we?

That's why I want our nipper to go to a public school, so he can learn to speak

Nye.

Phoebe, do you know anything about public school?

I saw Goodbye, Mr Chips three times.

Ria Garson was in that, too.

Yeah, well, so the name is Greer, anyway.

Maybe they asked her mother what she wanted to call her while she was still

being born, and she went, Greer?

It's just going to start.

Of course it is.

Well, once we've sat through the B feature, the newsreel, the public

short, never thought I'd get nostalgic about badly shot commercials for the

Bombay Palace Tandoori.

What about Tom Brown's school days, then? That's hardly an advertisement for

boarding school.

Yeah, well, it's only a film.

What are you doing here, Stanley? Where's Reg? Evening, Mrs B.

Reg asked me to keep an eye. He had to get weaving.

Oh, so he's finally getting a toupee, then?

What's that?

He didn't say.

But he was in a right to an eight, and no mistake.

No, you take the weight off your plates of meat, love.

I'm coping like a custard cream.

Well, half a bit and a port and a limp.

Right you are, guv.

It'd take us for the time of year, eh?

I went down the Apples and Pears to the cellar for some light ales. It was right

brass monkeys and no mistake.

Have you ever worked with Greg Garson?

No, I haven't, but she'd be very welcome round these parts.

Lovely with her crack lid and no mistake.

Of course, if you want your child growing up speaking like that and no

mistake... Look, I just don't want our kid to talk like he's got a plum in his

mouth. You're just like my dad.

That's a vicious thing to say.

No, you are.

He was always complaining about toffs and snobs.

Didn't like anyone he thought was better than him. No, it's not that. Look,

Phoebe, private education is divisive. People come out of those schools

they're better than anyone else.

Well, they are.

Otherwise, it's like saying a pedigree dog isn't better than a mongrel.

Or a Rolls Royce isn't better than a rusty old pushbike.

I went to a state school. I did all right.

Grammar school, was it?

Well, yeah, sort of.

Well, maybe things were different in a posh place like Cricklewood.

Around here, if anyone got into the grammar, we had a street party.

But things will be different after the war.

It'll be a lot easier to get into a grammar school.

But it's not just what they learn you.

Teaching.

Well,

it's everything.

Mum was in service before she met Dad, and she worked in a lot of top -throw

houses, and she used to say the thing about the knobs is they're debonair.

You've got a lot of good traits, but you're not debonair, are you?

I'm not even sure what debonair means.

Well, it means being like Leslie Howard or Laurence Olivier.

Yeah, but they're not debonair. They're just acting.

Engorge your ear, Gary. I really need your advice.

Yeah, well, first, can I ask you something?

Yeah, be quick about it. Would you call me debonair? What do you want to go

changing your name for?

Just forget it, Reg.

What do you want my advice about?

Well, it's Margie Hook's old man, see?

Oh. Well, he hasn't found out that his little Frankie is really your little

Frankie, has he? No, not that, thank heavens.

But he's been knocking her about, accusing her of flirting with the

on their bus.

Has she been?

As Margie had it, she was just being pleasant, but he's a pigger, Jack. Here,

I've got a good mind to go round and give him a foppeny one meself.

Reg, is that wise?

No, Phoebe, it ain't a good idea.

Cos in the first place, he's twice my size. In the second place, the

Metropolitan Police has a policy of not interfering in what we call domestics.

And C, cos then he'd find out about me and Margie and little Frankie.

What would you do, Gary?

Well, it may be time to take your courage in both hands, Reg.

I'm in enough trouble without letting Drink Cloud be judgement.

Yeah, that would never do.

No, I mean, why don't you just set up home with Margie?

You mean leave my Minnie?

Well, the way she carries on, do you think she'd notice?

What about my job?

At least my sergeant found out. That's right, Gary. It's all very well you

telling people how to live their lives.

Reg asked my advice.

It's all right. If Margie left him, he'd come round looking for me. And like I

said, he's a big bugger. Pardon my French.

Gary would back you up, wouldn't you, Gary? If it came to a punch -up.

Oh, I don't know about that, Phoebe. I mean a punch -up. It's not exactly

debonair, is it?

You may never keep it. Well, it's not going to win an Oscar for special

I kept praying for Arnold Schwarzenegger to come in and say, Hasta la vista,

middle -class English stereotype.

Only me and Phoebe had a row. What about post -war education policy?

You're winding me up.

It's a long story.

You know, you are going to make somebody a lovely charlady. Just making the

place nice for your bride's imminent return?

So you really are moving out, then? Gave you my word, didn't I?

I'm going to dust up the office till I can find a flat.

So you didn't meet a millionaire ass with her own penthouse?

Not quite.

A worker for the homeless with her own dusthouse?

A sewage worker with her own... Oh, shut up.

What about five girls for every boy, then?

They were washing their hair.

I did meet a very nice bloke called Pablo, though. Fair enough, I'm broad

-minded.

All right, I won't tell you, then. No, no, go on, go on.

Pablo actually runs Empathy.

He's got this beautiful girlfriend, Pandora. Met her through the business,

speak. He said that a year ago, he was just like me.

A sad bastard, you mean?

No, I mean chronically unlucky in love.

Until he went to a professional.

A professional?

You mean a lady of the night? A loose woman? A harlot? In short, a tart?

No, I mean a surrogate.

Well, there's a difference.

A surrogate is a woman who has undergone special training in order to intimately

analyse and improve a man's sexual and emotional performance.

Emphasis on the intimate.

She's got letters after her name and she's registered for VAT.

Really?

So she's an expensive tart.

Predictable and unworthy.

As it happens, she is extremely busy.

But she might have a cancellation later this morning. Mm -hm.

And if she does, she'll fit you in, won't she?

If anybody wants me, I will be in the bathroom, beautifying myself on the off

chance.

You can put your own hoover away.

Ron, she's not coming here, is she?

Hello?

Yes, yes, this is Mr Sparrow.

Look, are you all right?

Look, I know you're not all right, but are you going to be okay? The nurse said

you're going to be okay.

Oh, Gary, it was awful.

At first I just thought it was indigestion, and then on the plane I

was going to die. It's all right, it's all right.

You're going to be fine.

I'll look after you.

You promised.

I'm so sorry.

Why? It's not your fault.

Look, these things happen, right?

You mustn't blame yourself.

Oh, don't blame myself.

A blimless face is little oriental sods I work for.

Banquets every bloody night, eating God knows what.

Time zone changes.

Strange Asian germs flying around 15 -hour days.

They shouldn't have made me go.

Well, I did say if you didn't want to... You should have been a man. You should

have put your foot down.

Well, whenever I put my foot down, you just kick me in the shin.

I hate it being on my own.

I thought the trip might be fun for a bit, but it wasn't.

I was lonely too.

I mean, I had Ron, but you can't really cuddle up with him for the night.

Well, you could, but I bet you'd regret it in the morning.

And his snores.

I don't know what to say.

Look, we're going to try again. We're going to have lots of kids.

But we've been trying for ages.

Yeah, well, it's not exactly a chore, is it?

We quite enjoy terrain, don't we?

Well, except when it clashed with a football.

Well, yeah.

Wish I'd never got you interested in the game, though.

You must be Mr Sparrow.

Yes. Look, is she going to be all right? Please be assured of my heartfelt

sympathy at this difficult time.

But I guarantee that your wife will make a complete recovery.

We'll soon have you back on your feet, Mrs Sparrow.

But you really must try and take things a little easier.

Let your husband cosset you for a change.

Yes, I will. I promise.

Look, I'll go and find a vase for you.

Helen.

Mummy.

My poor babe.

When did you get here so quickly?

Yvonne phoned me from the ambulance.

A girl needs her mother before her husband, Gary.

Are you going to keep her in overnight?

I'd like to.

You are private, aren't you, Mrs. Farrah?

Then I think she should stay in for at least another 48 hours.

That's terrible.

Do you mean if she was NHS, you'd give her two aspirin and send her home in an

ambulance?

Ambulance?

Minicab.

If you and your impossibly young -looking mother will excuse me.

Mrs Barrett?

He's rather gorgeous, isn't he?

Very debonair.

Why does everyone keep going on about being debonair?

Doesn't matter.

Well, if they're keeping you in, you'll need your things.

Has Gary brought your things, Evie? Well, I brought some nectarines.

Nightie? Bed socks?

Hair dryer?

Catherine Cookson?

Well, no, I just dashed out of the house.

Typical man, shooting off half -cock.

Well, I'll just go back and fetch them. No, I'll go. You're bound to forget

something important. Look, Helen, all I...

Try not to blame yourself.

No, she doesn't blame herself.

I was talking to you.

She's come out of her shell since the divorce, hasn't she?

Hi, I'm Ron.

Oh, that's right.

I heard all about you.

What should I call you?

Mrs Shackleton.

That's a bit formal, isn't it?

Well, this isn't a social call.

Where are you going?

I just couldn't take it no more.

I mean, I know I swore I'd stick with him for better or worse.

But there's nothing in the marriage ceremony about taking a walloping every

other night.

I know, love.

And what's the point of turning the other cheek if all you get is a

that side and all?

Oh, I wish Reg was here.

He'll turn up.

He always pops in for a cuppa around four o 'clock.

Unless he's off apprehending dangerous felons.

Not much risk of that, eh?

But he's a good one, isn't he?

Art of gold. Yeah.

And I never flirted with the passengers. I never.

Of course not.

Get along, Phoebe.

Margie, what are you doing here?

What's happened to your face?

She got hit by a bus driver.

No.

The animal.

Where's my little Frankie?

How are you doing, son?

Well, when I say son, I'm just using it as a term of endearment. You know, like

mate or mucker.

Don't confuse him, Reg. He's only five.

I don't see how you can go back to him now.

Well, where else am I going to go?

I suppose I could put you up.

Be a bit of a squeeze.

No. I've been thinking about what Gary said and I've realised you're my

responsibility now. You and little Frankie.

I'm going to ask Mrs. Bloss about the flat over the shop. Although, for

purposes, I'll still be living with Minnie.

Rich, you're one in a million.

With a bit of luck, your old man never need find out.

He already knows.

I'm really sorry, love. I had to tell him about you and me.

No, why?

Well, I thought if he knew I was in love with a copper, it would frighten him

off.

But he just said if I left him, he didn't care if he lived or died, and

his shift, he was going to come and sort you out.

Oh, my sainted aunt.

Well, I told him you were an East End copper.

You weren't afraid of some blustering bully of a bus driver.

No, of course I ain't.

Phoebe, you got any medicinal brandy left?

You know I really do love you, don't you, Gary?

Well, I am incredibly lovable.

Ow!

I had Mr Sheik on the phone when you popped out.

He was ever so upset.

He said I could take as long as I needed. He was sweet.

Being Korean, I thought he'd be sweet and sour.

So you don't hold the whole of South Korea responsible anymore?

These things happen.

You just never expect it to happen for you, do you?

Perhaps it'll bring us closer together.

I hope so.

Do you?

Of course I do.

It's just that sometimes you seem to be far more interested in the Second World

War than in me.

It's just your imagination.

Anyway, sometimes it seems to me you're more interested in your career.

Well, that's going to change.

This is a sign.

From now on, we should put us first.

I'm going to take some time off so we can really be together.

Great.

Did you manage to get everything?

Gary, shouldn't you be getting back to that shop of yours?

Oh, no, it's all right. I think Yvonne would like me to stick around here.

Do you?

Well, if you need a break, Gary.

Well, if you're sure, I suppose I could go and open up for a couple of hours.

But you take care. Yeah.

I'll see you soon.

I'm not blind.

Shall I put them in some water?

What's wrong?

I've been up the doctors.

Oh, no. I'm fine. But where were you? You said you wanted to come. You

So I said, OK, and then you don't turn up.

I'm so sorry. I forgot.

Obviously you forgot.

Obviously I'm not as important to you as I used to be.

Well, don't be silly.

That's right. Call me stupid.

Phoebe, something came up.

Something really important.

More important than me?

More important than our baby?

I'm beginning to worry about me and you, Gary.

You take the mickey out of the films I like, you get on your high horse because

I want our child to have a decent education.

Have you gone off me?

Well, of course not.

Have you seen another woman or something?

Now you're really being... Don't call me stupid again or I'll clock you one.

I had to then reg up the chemist for my tonic because you weren't here.

I'm sorry. The record's stuck, Gary.

Look, OK.

Whatever school you want our son or daughter to go to, that is fine by me.

I am trying to be more debonair.

Look.

There's debonair and then there's daft.

Come here.

I'll try and be more responsible.

You'd better be.

You didn't tell me Margie was here.

Didn't forget, did you? I heard voices and an argument. I thought it might be

Jackie. We were just having a small disagreement.

How's little Frankie?

I think he's finally gone off to sleep.

He's hardly kept a wink this last week, what with all the fighting and the

swearing.

Oh. Frankie.

So you've done it, then?

You've left him? I couldn't take it no more.

Why don't you play something nice for us, Gary? A lullaby or one of your

romantic songs?

A lullaby?

I don't think I know any.

Do you play the piano?

A bit.

You are lucky, Phoebe.

Yeah. He is a bit debonair, isn't he?

When you're down and troubled And you need some love and

care And nothing, oh, nothing is going

right Close your eyes

and think of me And soon I will be here

To brighten up

Even your darkest night.

So this is it.

Tackling. You're leaving me for some bow -tie -wearing Nancy Boy piano player.

No, it's right there. I am not... Shut it.

Well, that's lovely, isn't it? I come all this way from Streatham to tell my

lawful wedded wife I'm prepared to forgive her, to let bygones be bygones,

find her drooling over a fancy man.

Actually, look, I'm not her fancy man.

You've got it wrong, Jackie. Shut your row.

I'll deal with you later.

Oh, suede shoes, eh?

I'll bet he wears eau de cologne.

Oi, you can't just come into my pub and start... Nobody asked you to think

you're nothing.

So this is the long streak of piddle you've dumped me for.

You want your eyes tested.

Well, maybe if you didn't black her eyes quite so regularly.

She's my wife.

We've had such a lot of trouble we've been having with the buses recently.

What with so many maintenance men called up.

We have to do a lot of our own little jobs nowadays.

I was only changing a set of spark plugs this afternoon.

Now, look, I am not Reg Steadman. My name is Gary Sparrow.

And I'm a member of the Secret Service. You hit me, you'll spend the rest of the

war in the Tower of London. A coward and a liar. You picked a good one here,

girl. Although, regardless of whether or not I am Reg, do you think physical

violence really is the best way to deal with complex family conflicts?

Yes. Leave him alone.

Gary learned unarmed combat in Japan, didn't you, Gary?

Yes, I did.

And I should warn you that my right hand is registered as a deadly weapon. Now,

you heard me warn him, didn't you, Phoebe?

Gary, stop being debonair and hit him! I'm going to rip your kidneys out,

Deadman. Look, I am not Reg Deadman.

He is.

Oh, dear.

Not the old look behind you trick.

Oh,

Reg, talk about timing.

Well, he was about to commit grievous bodily, wasn't he?

Be lucky he'll get three years for this.

So he'll be in jail till the end of the war?

So you know when the war's going to end there, do you?

Just a figure of speech, Reg.

Yeah, yeah, just a figure of speech.

Don't worry, Sam.

He's just having a bit of a kick.

I thought you were going to dust in your office.

Well, what with Yvonne and everything, I thought you might need a friend.

Thanks.

There's pizza in the oven and a fixed pack in the fridge.

Oh, that is considerate.

So a more than usually busy day in the wonderful world of time travel.

Yeah, you could say that.

Wasn't sure you'd be back tonight.

Where do you think I'd be?

Well, there's always Phoebe.

No.

Not with Yvonne in hospital, it wouldn't be right.

I know.

So, how was your day?

Oh, fine.

Hey, did your surrogate turn up? Not exactly.

Hard luck.

Not exactly.

Well, Yvonne's mum swept in here like Desert Storm, claiming to know all about

me, even though I'd never met the woman before in my life. So when she headed

off to the bedroom, there was, quite understandably, what you might call a

slight case of cross wires.

Ron, you didn't think... It was an easy mistake!

You'd never believe she was 51, would you?

You can hardly see the liposuction scar.

Ron, you didn't. Not with Yvonne. Gentlemen may kiss, but never tell.

I'll tell you what, though, young Gary.

You'd better start treating me with some respect.

Because if I play my cards right, I could be your father -in -law.

Good night, sweetheart.

Sleep will banish sorrow.

Good night, sweetheart.

Till we meet tomorrow.

Sweetheart.