Original subtitles

Good night, sweetheart.

All my prayers are for you. Good night, sweetheart.

I'll be watching over you.

Tears and parting may make us alone.

But with the dawn, a new day is born.

Don't tell me you're auditioning for a part in House of Elliot. No, I just

popped into Wally's World of Wallpaper on the way home.

What's your answer to this one?

It comes in a washable, ready -pasted vinyl with a contrast freeze, but you

get a matching duvet cover, pillowcase and curtains. Oh, and do they do a full

range of lampshades and knick -knack boxes in the same design?

Er, yeah, I think so. Oh, at last! My life has a meaning.

I thought you wanted me to decorate the bedroom.

I just thought it was looking a bit shabby.

I didn't expect you to come home transmogrified into Pierre Le Pouf,

the decadent. Oh, Yvonne, it's not like you to make gratuitously homophobic

remarks.

Unless your psychology course would translate that as saying that I no

satisfy you in bed, that what really needs brightening up is our marital

relationship. Yes, that it's my foreplay technique that requires a light sanding

and two coats of weatherproof varnish.

Well, since you raised the subject, it must have been playing on your mind,

Do you think our sex life is satisfactory?

Well, it depends.

Compared to what? Well, on recent form, we're not going to be asked to appear on

a Haagen -Dazs billboard, are we?

Well, maybe not.

There's far too much emphasis placed on the physical side of marriage these

days. Oh, yes, of course. It wasn't like that in the war, was it? Well, since

you raised the subject, no.

People had more important things to worry about then.

I mean, if the earth moved in 1940, it was usually a landmine. Not with its

again. Look.

If you don't want me to decorate our bedroom while you're away, just say the

word. Gary, I was just saying... Because I won't have anything better to do,

will I?

Because I'll be on my own, won't I? From Friday to Monday, while you're off

living it up at a university college you'll just feel.

Gary, this residential weekend is a crucial part of my open university

Oh, silly me.

And there's me thinking it's an excuse to get drunk and misbehave like real

students. Well, you're wrong.

I've been working on my essay for nearly two months and it's vitally important I

make a good impression on my tutor.

Just in case he doesn't like your essay, you'd better remember to pack your

suspenders.

Gary, are you really saying you think I'd sleep with my tutor just to get a

grade?

No, sorry.

Thank you.

No, I'll get a good grade because I've put a hell of a lot of work into my

essay.

And then I'll sleep with my tutor because he's gorgeous.

I understand, but let's just recapitulate.

You want me to print you a 100 % authentic set of personal identification

as carried by plucky British citizens during the Second World War? Using the

paper and ink prevalent at the time, yeah. Oh, take it for granted. And the

purpose to which this arcane documentation is to be put?

Yeah, it's my cousin Jilly. Her drama group are putting on Lionel Bart's Blitz

as their entry for the Brent Literary Festival.

Brent Literary Festival.

That's a bit of a contradiction in terms, isn't it?

Furthermore, why should your cousin Jilly's drama group need a ration book

would pass muster in a Second World War meet -cue?

Maybe she's a stickler for accuracy.

Maybe. And maybe she's just a figment of your imagination.

Now, I know what's really going on.

You were telling the truth when you rang that phone in the other week, weren't

you? You really have stumbled through a hole in the space -time continuum and

found yourself in war -torn London.

That's why you need documents.

And that's why you've suddenly become so fixated with the period.

Ron, can we talk?

In the office.

All right, keep this to yourself.

Oh, naturally, careless talk costs lives.

I have been going back to 1940.

And I met this girl, Phoebe.

And I can't get her out of my head.

But the last time I went back, I was nearly thrown into jail for not having

correct ID papers.

Really?

Well, that's great.

That's great.

OK, OK.

It shouldn't be too difficult getting the ink, but, well, they used this funny

paper back then. It had a little bit of straw in it. Yeah.

Anger bow.

Anger bow.

This isn't all just some elaborate ploy to get me to a surprise birthday party,

is it?

What? I mean, I'm not going to come round to your house on Friday with your

printing and find that all my friends and relis leap out of every nook and

cranny and shout surprise.

Ron, I've only got a starter home.

There's one small nook and I couldn't afford any crannies.

Is it your birthday on Friday, then? No.

That's why it's such a brilliant surprise.

And it's Guy Fawkes. Oh, brilliant! A surprise fireworks party with jacket

potatoes. Don't worry, I'll remember to act surprised.

Ron, it's not a surprise party.

Well, you've got to say that, haven't you?

Are you serious?

Yes.

And it's not the Brent Literary Festival.

No.

Ron, I can go back.

To 1940?

Yeah.

Bombed the lock.

Wow.

So what's this Phoebe tart like? Is she a bit willing?

She is not a tart.

You haven't managed a quick neat chamber in the blackout, then?

Do you mind? She's a very sweet, innocent young woman. Things were

then, you know.

Plus, she's married.

Oh, is she?

Yeah, her old man's with Monty out in North Africa.

I don't think I've had sexual relations for quite a while. I should hope not.

What sort of an example would that be for a general to show his troops?

Ron.

I'm sorry.

Although, technically, if you and her did get it together, it wouldn't be

adultery, as you weren't even born then.

Ron? Added to which, she's probably been dead for ages.

Oh, Ron, leave it out.

Yeah, I'm sorry.

What about Yvonne? Isn't she a bit suspicious of all this 40s stuff you're

Yeah, she was a bit leery.

I threw her off the scent by pretending to be jealous of her going on this open

university thing. When really you made up to have a few days to yourself.

Yeah.

So can you print these documents for me or what?

Oh, yeah. I can print them.

On one condition.

That was in the lock. That was locked.

I needed a case for my weekend.

If you hadn't wanted me to open it, you should have thought of a more original

combination than your date of birth.

So, take it. What's the problem?

I was hoping you'd tell me.

I almost believed you when you said you were over your obsession with the Blitz.

So what are you doing? Secretly dressing up as Trevor Howard when I'm out?

Hanging around railway termini trying to seduce Celia Johnson lookalikes with

gifts of stocking?

And cheap perfume?

Yvonne, would you stop trying to turn me into one of your case studies? There's

a perfectly rational explanation for all this.

I can't wait to hear it.

Well, go on, then.

All right.

I was planning a surprise fancy dress birthday party for you. With a 1940s

theme, that's all.

And I've been getting together all the period clothes and food and presents,

that sort of stuff.

My birthday isn't for five months.

These things take a lot of planning involved.

Why, don't you believe me?

Well, let's just say on the believability index you come slightly

party manifesto.

Oh, come on, Gary, you've got to admit it. All right, I have. I have got to

admit it. I can't live this lie any longer.

I wear these when I go back to 1940 to see my girlfriend.

And I take her chocolate and cigarettes and stockings because she can't get them

in the war. It's as simple as that.

Psychiatric help is almost impossible.

Get on the National Health Service.

But in your case, I'm sure they'll make an exception.

All right, then.

Well, where do you think I've got all this stuff, eh?

I don't know, Gary.

And I doubt if you do either.

If anybody talks to you, you just grin and nod and doff your hat. Because I was

struck dumb with shock when an incendiary device burnt my house down.

OK.

Let's go.

Penny for the guy?

Guy thought tonight was yesterday.

The fireworks will be cheaper today, won't they?

Market forces, see?

There you go, then.

This ain't a real penny.

This is where I'm going.

Remember, try to think bliss.

Wrong.

Wrong?

Excuse me.

Hello. Did you see a tall fur -haired guy come down that alley just now,

like me?

No.

Hold this, will you?

I'll give him a sudden time warp.

Afternoon, Eric.

Oh, God help us, here comes trouble.

Oh, now, is there any way to talk to a man with a full set of documents?

ID card, ration book? All right, all right.

Do you manage to keep them very new -looking?

Er, well, yeah.

Right, what can I do for you?

Oh, well, I think I'll have a pint of low -alcohol lager and a slice of your

justly famous broccoli and ricotta quiche, please. Don't you come in here

ask for all that Yankee muck.

All right, I'll have half a bet and a pickled egg.

Pickled egg? I'll give you pickled egg.

I haven't seen a pickled egg since the fall of France.

Oh, cheer up.

Get your drink.

I don't need you to buy me drinks. You've driven me to drink.

I'll have a large scotch.

And how have I driven you to drink?

What, by turning my Phoebe's head?

With your fancy ways, your stories about America, your romantic songs, bringing

her bananas and chocolate.

and promises of a better life after the war. We don't need your handouts.

Oh, I'm glad you told me that, cos I bought you some cigarettes, and I'd hate

make a fool of myself.

No, no, no, no, it's all right to give me presents. You won't turn my head.

Phew!

Strike me pink.

So, has Phoebe gone out?

No, she's left home.

She... What, because of me?

You've got a few bob to win on yourself, haven't you? No!

No, no, it's not because of you.

The other day, she blurts out that she wants to go and get herself a job in an

office or a factory, doing something useful, as she put it. As if it's not

enough for her to help out here and look after her dad.

Come to think of it, it is your fault.

Oh, yeah, yeah, you're right.

I'm lucky you deign to accept my cigarettes, really.

So where's she living, then?

She's gone to stay with her wife's sister, and if you think I'm going to

you the address, you've got another thing coming. Bar of chocolate?

She's at 37 Livingston Crescent.

Phoebe!

Hello, Gary.

Phoebe, what's wrong? Sit down. Hey, you get your hands off her. Leave it out,

Eric. Dad, please.

What's happened?

Auntie Dot got bombed out.

Really? You wait till I get my hands on that girl. Is she all right?

Are you OK?

I was at the market.

Someone said they'd seen some oranges.

And when I got back... Here, drink this.

What about Dotty?

She's in the hospital with a broken leg. It's a compound fracture.

The ass has gone and half my clothes.

Look, you come back and live here. This is where you belong.

Thanks, Dad, but I... I'm not sure I want to.

What?

This is your home.

I should never let you go in the first place. Oh, you didn't let me. I just

I'm a grown woman.

This is all your fault.

Me?

Well, I'm responsible for her successfully negotiating puberty, am I?

Don't you come in here with your filth. Oh, for heaven's sake, you two.

I'm going out for some fresh air.

Now look what you've done.

Snake in the grass.

Well, they won't be digging for victory in here, will they?

Gary.

Oh, I suppose she was lucky.

With only a leg.

The eyes next door got the worst of it. Direct hit. Two dead, one missing.

He'll come home from work to no family and a great big hole in the ground where

his house used to be.

Could have been me, Gary.

I hate this bloody war.

I've heard you swear before.

I haven't nearly been killed before.

And don't you hate it?

Yeah, of course I do.

Do you?

Because I don't seem to affect you like it does other people. I mean, you come

and go. You're always happy.

Shortages and rationings don't seem to bother you.

Well, it's not that. It's just that deep down I know we're going to win.

I don't.

Take me back with you, Gary.

Take me back with you, please.

Phoebe, I can't.

It's not possible.

How did you... Why not?

You must have family in Cricklewood, or mates at least. There's got to be

someone you know with a spare room.

Cricklewood. I thought you meant... America.

If only.

Cricklewood gets bombed too, you know. Yeah, but not like the East End.

Well, I don't know.

The glue factory took a terrible pasting last night.

The East End getting a pasting every night.

Look, I know what's bothering you. I'm a married woman, and you don't want

people to think you're trying to take advantage.

Well, that's true.

I mean, I'd like to take advantage. I just don't want people to think it.

I had, um...

This letter from Donald yesterday.

And there was nothing in it.

Because of the sensor?

No.

I mean because he had nothing to say to me.

Hope you're keeping well.

Weather here is still hot and sunny.

Well, no surprises there. If he's in North Africa.

You see?

I mean, you know things like that.

You're a man of the world.

No. There wasn't nothing in his letter about feelings, about us, our future,

about anything that matters.

Some people just aren't good letter writers, Phoebe.

It goes deeper than that.

He's got nothing to say to me because he doesn't really care about me.

That's what it is.

And then I remembered what you once said about after the war.

How people will be different.

How they won't be forced to stay in loveless marriages.

Did I say that?

You did.

Did you mean it?

It's starting to rain, come on.

Kind of behind the answering machine, eh?

Right.

If you're in there, pal, you'd better get to the phone and explain to me what

you think you're doing making a mug of me.

Well?

OK.

I don't know if this is some sort of elaborate practical joke or if you're an

-carat nutcase, but maybe I should just drive up to Huddersfield and ask the

fragrant Yvonne what she makes of your behaviour and...

You owe me 75 quid for the Russian book.

I bet he knows.

What?

Whether we'll win through.

Is the war a main?

Yeah.

Did you think I meant you and me?

Something like that.

Hey, I've got you some stuff from night... From the American Embassy shop.

Oh, Gary.

Oh.

Stuffings.

Sir.

What's all this about you getting a job, then?

Well, why not?

I used to have a lovely job before the war.

Nice little shoe shop next to all the people's palace.

Once sold a pair of spats to Joe Loss.

Really?

Joe Loss, eh? Yeah.

Ever so smart he is.

Really dapper.

But then they needed all the leather to make army boots, so I'm out of a job.

But when I say I want to do something useful, like...

parachute packing or munitions work.

Daddy at the roof.

I think he's scared of me being independent.

But you don't think like that, do you? No.

Well, yes and no.

Most of my marital problems started when my Marilyn got a job she thought was

more important than mine.

You mean you were married to this Marilyn Monroe?

Yeah.

But you never said you were married to her before. You just said you went out

with her.

Well, yeah, I did, and then we got married.

I don't like talking about it, you know. She got involved with drink and drugs.

We got mixed up with a pair of oversexed brothers called the Kennedys.

Poor thing.

So, what sort of a place have you got now?

What? Um, is it a room, a flat?

Oh, it's a house. Well, a small house.

You rent a whole house?

Well, it's just two bedrooms and a broom couple with delusions of grandeur.

Yeah, but if you've got two bedrooms to yourself... You mean

move in with me?

Only as a lodger.

Oh, no, Phoebe.

Phoebe, it wouldn't be right.

Well, like you said, people would talk.

Well, let them.

We'd know we'd nothing to be ashamed of.

Yeah, but what would your dad think if you told him you were moving in with me?

Let him think what he wants to think.

Sorry, Phoebe, it's just not on.

Why?

Oh, no.

You're not over that Marilyn, are you? Yeah, of course I am, but... the thing

is... she's not over me.

Does it matter?

Sort of.

Why?

Well, when I told you I'd left her behind in America... Yeah?

Maybe I should have added that she followed me to England.

What?

I'm sorry, I should have told you.

You mean she's living with you?

So all the time you're stringing me along, you're still married to this

Monroe?

Oh, I don't believe I'm hearing this. I suppose you've got kids and all. No, of

course not. Then why should I believe you? You're too tired and creeped. No,

look, please, look, I don't love her.

She's a nightmare to live with. She had terrible, violent mood swings, but I

can't just throw her out. I don't want to know.

Look, no, no, please, please.

Look, if you want a flat, I've got some money. We could work something out.

I don't want to be your kept fancy woman. Thank you very much. Look, but...

making him look at me.

Regius Professor of Medieval Philosophy, Oxford.

Am I right?

Nearly. Medieval history, actually.

I'm also lost.

I'm looking for my wife. She's on the Open University Psychology weekend.

You let your wife go on one of those?

Got an open marriage, have you?

No. That's what you think.

Anyway, they're having a Saturday night social and pre -orgie barbecue over in

the Harold Wilson bar.

No, I knew that.

I was just, uh...

It's an ordinary excuse, but you're digging any gay levels.

Gary!

Gary, what the hell do you think you're doing here?

Oh, that depends.

Has Ron been here?

No. Why?

Really?

Oh, then it doesn't matter.

Well, it must matter. You've just drove 200 miles.

Yeah, and it's just as well I did, isn't it?

I mean, if you'd have been dancing any closer to Mr Leather Elbow Patches in

there, you'd have been standing behind him.

I'm allowed to dance, aren't I?

Dance? Yeah.

But it's still early, isn't it?

In a little while, it could have been... Would you like a coffee, Yvonne?

Oh, would love one, Sigmund, but it's so noisy up here, I can't hear myself

think. I know.

Why don't we go up to me room? I've got a lovely bottle of Rioja.

You

didn't

really come all this way because you were jealous, did you?

Well... You were so offhand and snotty when you found my suitcase.

I mean, I told you I was planning a surprise party, and you treated me like

dirt. Made me sleep in the spare room. No, I didn't.

No, sorry, you didn't, but you made me feel like I was in the spare room.

So then I got to thinking, well, maybe she has got a bloke up here. Oh, Gary,

don't be stupid. Of course there isn't anybody else.

Yeah, and what about old leather patches in there? There's nothing between us.

There certainly wasn't when you were dancing with her.

Look, I'll prove it to you.

Do you fancy a coffee?

Yeah, all right.

And it's so noisy in here, you can't hear yourself think.

Why don't you go back to my room? I've got a bottle of Rioja.

My wife understands me.

She's a psychologist, you know. My husband's been under a lot of pressure

lately. I think he needs a good scene, too.

Oh, mind or body?

Oh, both.

But body first.

Please.

What's wrong?

Um, just wondered if you fancied a dance.

Yeah, OK.

I think you'll find this is a folk strong.

Good night, sweetheart.

Sleep will banish sorrow.

Good night, sweetheart.

Till we meet tomorrow.

Dreams enfold you.

In memory I'll fold you.

Good night, sweetheart.