All language subtitles for Waiting for God s01e02 A Trip to Brighton

The word is comfortable, you simpering
nelly. Oh, you do make a mess around

What's this role doing here?

Oh, why don't you ask it?

Or don't you speak role? Oh, did you
enjoy having your niece here yesterday?

She tried to strangle me. Oh, yes.

Such a nice woman.

With her rosary beads.

You should have had a long chat with me
and Mr Baines, inquiring about your

health and general well -being. I'll bet
she will.

The only reason I keep breathing is so
that she can't get her hands on my

Oh, yes.

Jane, my niece only comes here in the
hope that one day she will find me stiff

as a board with a stake through my
heart.

I'm sure that's not true.

She keeps garlic in a crucifix in her
handbag.

Harvey says that persecution mania is
very common amongst senior citizens.

Don't you call me a senior citizen.

Oh, what are you then?

What do I bloody well look like?

Senior citizen. Oh, yes.

And when did I become a senior citizen?

Oh, after you turned 60.

Jane, on my 60th birthday, I was a
freelance photographer hanging out of a

helicopter somewhere on the Cambodian
border while various warlords were

to shoot the arse off me.

Watch this for me, how very powerful.

And they weren't calling me a senior
citizen then.

No, they were foreign. They probably
didn't know the words.

Jane, the Eastern people do not have...
senior citizens.

They have elders whom they respect,
revere. Don't try and shove under the

like some minor embarrassment.

So you can tell that Baines creature
from me that we are not senior citizens

any other form of coy euphemism. We are
paying customers. We are what keeps his

butter stuck to his bread. Do I make
myself clear?

Yes, Diana, you always do.

I see your niece has left her car here.

The red Porsche?

Yeah, she's going on holiday and most of
her neighbours appear to be car

thieves. She's asked me to look after it
for her. Oh, good.

Just as long as you weren't thinking of
driving it.

Me, Jane?

Let's have a look.

Really?

Justice, ladies and gentlemen of life's
jury, is like a meal.

Like this very meal that you have spread
before you.

When you've got it, you take it as your
right and profit you.

But when you haven't got it, you feel
confused, disorientated and cheated.

And if you are deprived of it for too
long, you may even wither and perish.

Give me my food.

And give me my justice.

I want my dinner.

Nothing wrong here, Tom. I want justice.
And I want my dinner.

Give Babel his dinner, Tom. It isn't
dinner.

It's a symbol of faith.

It's a plate of curry.

What's wrong now, Tom?

It can't be the food.

We've doubled the catering budget since
you threatened to disembowel yourself on

the steps of the town hall.

Nothing wrong with the food.

So what is it? I've told you, it's
justice. Justice? About what?

Justice isn't about anything. Justice is
an ideal, an end in itself.

And we want it, don't we?

You see, Tom, they just want to have
their lunch in peace.

It's because they have been broken on
the wheel of life. It's because they're

hungry.

Thank you, Tom.

Now, everybody happy?

Good.

That blood, that is, sucked from us over
70 years and returned to us one

claggy gob at a time.

Who on earth is he today? I'm not quite
sure.

Seems like a cross between Perry Mason
and Aristotle.

A little fart. Good morning, Diana.

Or should I say good afternoon? As it is
12 .23, and that's 23 minutes after the

start of lunchtime. Oh, do be quiet, you
tedious little man.

We do have staff, you know, and they
like to get away on time.

They have rights.

So do prison warders.

Now, that's not a very nice attitude.

No, it wasn't meant to be.

In a world ruled by aggressive
simpletons, someone has to see the sheer

of the human race, the universe, the
Bayview retirement home for the almost

dead. Not feeling a little bit negative
today, are we?

Oh, Miss Trent.

Diana. What?

About your niece's car. Yes?

It's the sports car.

So? Well, I was wondering if you'd like
me to look after the keys for you. Were

you really? Until your niece returns.
Well, thank you, but I think the care of

couple of keys is just about within the
capabilities of this rattled old body

and fuddled old brain.

Bugger off and let me eat in peace.

I don't have to do this job, you know.
No, I don't have to do it. I don't have

to be a caring individual. I get little
help.

Oh, Tom, don't forget your son's
visiting tomorrow morning.

Oh, God.

Dad? You can always come home.

Well, you can if he's not happy.

He says he's not happy.

He does.

You've said a word since we've been
here.

Mariam, please.

He only does it to upset me.

He's trying to push me over the edge.

Your family never liked me. You know
that's not true.

Then why isn't he talking to me?

he's doing staring into space sitting
like that you'll get piles that'll serve

him right they blow up and strangle him
he's not deaf

dad hello maybe he's dead give him a
prod

he's meditating ah disgusting he's just
sitting and thinking well what's

thinking that's so important he can't
even talk to his own family?

Well, he's out of his body right now.

Out of his body?

Well, where's he gone, then?

On to another plane.

On a plane, eh?

Well, that's very clear, isn't it?

He's gone off on a plane, but left his
body behind.

Does that get him a reduced fare?

There's no need around here.

Does your wife ever shut up, or do you
have to take a side to her vocal cords?

Oh, that's right. Thank you very much.

I just come here to be insulted, don't
I? Well, I'm glad there's some point to

your journey.

Oh, oh, oh.

And tell me, Miss Acid Drop, how long
does he go off on these plane trips for?

Well, now, that depends how far he's
transcending.

If his astral travel should take him as
far as the, well, the lost source of the

Ganges, he could be gone all day.

If, on the other hand, he has just
wafted round to the corner shop, he

back any minute.

Come along, Geoffrey. These people are
all quite gaga.

And we don't want to catch any gaga
germs, do we?

Come along.

Bye, Dad.

Send us a card.

It's all right. They've gone.

Oh. Well, someone here.

I've been away in another world. Listen.

You may fool your cretinous relatives
with your dithery doodars, but don't try

it on me, you brain -dead old fish.

You know your trouble, Miss Trent?

You're earthbound.

No wings.

Whereas you, Doctor Who... Whereas I
only have to twiddle a couple of old

-like knobs and I'm up, off, off of the
way to better times, better places, and

darn sight, better company, too.

Oh, yes.

What particular Disneyland for the
simple -minded have you been goofing

in?

I have been to Washington.

Oh, I bet that shook them.

I went with my old friend Jimmy Stewart.

You remember the old movie, Mr Smith
Goes to Washington?

Well, I went with him.

Dear old Jimmy Stewart, we address
Congress on a matter of grave injustice.

What injustice?

On the injustice of ageing, Miss Trent.

Look at us. We have been diddled.

We have worked hard all our lives, and
what happens to us?

Well, in your case, you go totally
doolally.

We get old.

That's what we get for our pains. Life
is hard, and then you die.

It's all the wrong way round.

God's probably dyslexic.

Well, I want to do something young.

Good idea.

Go and play in the traffic.

There isn't any traffic round here.

Only the odd hearth.

Gliding shark -like through the
hedgerows, searching for customers.

Bring out your dead.

Bring out your dead.

Bring out your dead. Oh, for God's sake,
shut up.

Come on.

We are going in search of some real
traffic and real people.

Where? Brighton.

Brighton? Does Brighton really exist
beyond the confines of naughty

Possibly not, but we'll go and have a
look.

We'll take the Porsche. I'll drive and
you can run up a huge bill on my niece's

car phone.

Brighton.

Porsche.

Car phone.

Goodness.

I'm going to be a daffy.

This is wonderful.

I used to have a modest miner. He was
just like this, but completely

This is Major Tom, the ground
controller.

We have ignition.

Ten, nine, eight, seven... Stop puffing
about!

What?

What?

Can you drive this thing?

Of course I...

That's right, a big, red, shiny Porsche.

And they must be got.

No, no, I don't know the number.

No, no, they haven't stolen it.

Well, I doubt very much if she is
licensed.

Well, couldn't you try and sound a
little bit more concerned?

Why? Why?

Because there are two bloody -minded old
crackpots tearing along the coast at a

million miles an hour, and I, as a
citizen and as a taxpayer, want you to

them!

I'm a reasonable man, aren't I, Jane?

Oh, yes, Harvey, very reasonable.

I'm not what they say I am, am I? Oh,
no, Harvey.

What do they say you are?

I'm providing a service.

I'm not a blood -sucking, yuppie bastard
trying to screw them for every penny

they've got, am I?

Of course you're not.

Jane, you have a hand on that.

I think they left my bum at the last
roundabout.

Why are you driving on the wrong side of
the road?

You never know when you're going to meet
something silly. It's called doing it

the other way.

love the sea air mingled with the sickly
tang of candy floss and fresh donuts i

just like to be alive my driving doesn't
worry you does it oh no i'm a fatalist

if it is writ it is writ style tom gotta
have style far better go

out in a flash at the wheel of your
space capsule here than spend another

of years timidly putting up and down the
promenade

At the wheel of your 1959 Hillman Minx
while your brain -dead partner fiddles

with cardigan buttons.

Fancy an ice cream?

Won't we get a ticket?

My niece will get a ticket.

A Porsche?

My father has gone off with a woman in a
Porsche?

How disgusting.

Well, when I say woman, I mean... You
mean some underage nymphette. I knew it.

could tell.

For years he's been looking at me in a
funny way.

He's gone off with Diana Trent.

Who's she?

His neighbour, one of our residents.

You mean he's run off with an old woman?

Oh, God, I think I'm going to be ill.

Faulty, not totally obscene.

And a Porsche, too.

An expensive car? Oh, God.

We think they've probably just gone for
a drive.

I'm sure that's all.

Don't be ridiculous.

A man and a woman in a fart car.

The roar of the exhaust pipe.

The sheer power of the acceleration.

Pressing you back in your seat.

The smell of real leather.

Well, I suppose it is quite a nice day
for a drive.

Used to come down here during the war.

Used to watch the air battles, the
dogfights out there.

Our boys and their boys weaving about on
a lovely summer's day, putting on such

a show.

One of the Hun went down, the whole
beach would cheer.

One of our boys was hit.

Even the wind would stop blowing.

Time froze until the lad either
parachuted to safety and your heart

or he plunged into the sea and you all
died with him.

Nineteen or twenty years of some dear
mother's adoration,

loving care.

Switched off.

Doused.

So I never had children.

Couldn't face losing them.

So I never had much at all.

Were you in the war, Tom?

Oh, yes.

Army. I had what they call a good war.

Where were you?

Oh, all over.

North Africa chasing Rommel.

Then Italy.

Then D -Day and the push to Berlin.

What rank?

Well, I ended up Skate.

What's that?

Supreme Commander, Allied Forces in
Europe.

I knew they, with Eisenhower.

But I don't mention it to anyone in case
they think I'm getting a bit big

-headed. We want to be careful, you
know.

They might mistake your fantasy world
for senility and lock you up.

What fantasy world?

Something essentially English about
seaside candy floss.

Quite revolting.

Goes with the grey sea and the fried
food.

and the appalling hopelessness of all
those dead people dragging their lumpen

bodies up and down, waiting for the
blessed relief of autumn, when they can

their brains fur over and their limbs
atrophy while they crawl back into their

holes and spend the winter breaking wind
in some of the... Bloody hell.

I don't depress you, do I?

If I cut my head off and put a stake
through my heart, I would be positively

jolly in comparison with you.

You can't spend your life being so
contemptuous of your fellow man.

Why not?

Well, why?

Because if you're angry, you know you're
still alive.

But why bother?

If you think life is one long bath in
acid, why don't you pull the plug?

Suicide? Mercy killing in your case.

No.

Too many people to get even with.

The best way to do that is to outlive
them.

Come on.

Let's burn a little rubber.

Peace. No harm, dear hon. They should be
locked up. No, no, Marion.

Faulting old man. Leave it to me, I
think.

You're the one who let them escape in
the birthplace. No, no, Marion.

Well, well, Miss Trent.

Diana.

Goodness! A party?

What fun!

Geoffrey, how lovely to see you. I
thought you were coming this morning.

We did, Dad. You were out.

Oh, of course.

Washington. So sorry.

Marion, how are you?

Don't touch me. Same as usual.

Now, I would like you all to meet a new
friend of ours, Constable Wilkin.

This is my son, Geoffrey. Sir. And his
wife, Marion. Madam.

And this is Mr. Harvey Baines, manager
of the institution, and his right arm,

Jane Edwards, and of course, Miss Trent,
who's already sworn at you.

Well, isn't this nice?

Mine's a gin and tonic.

No tonic.

No gin.

Dan. Tom.

Sorry.

Tom, we've been... We've been terribly
worried, Dad. Where have you been?

We've been to Brighton. I knew it.

Brighton. Seaside Hotel.

Mr and Mrs Smith.

They've only been a few hours.

Oh, God, not even a hotel.

How could you? Someone cut that woman's
throat.

And you, you're just, just a loose tart.

Give me a knife, I'll do it myself.

Just stick to the matter in hand. Miss
Trent, Diana, you've caused us all a

great deal of distress.

Oh, good.

The police forces of southern England
have been scouring the countryside for

you. But why didn't you ring us on the
car phone?

Save an awful lot of scouring time.

Oh.

Well, I'm sure the constable is a very
busy man. Maybe we could get on?

Well... Seeing as there's no harm done,
sir, I don't think we need to take the

matter any further.

That's most kind.

Most understanding.

Nay. Sir, I bid you all good day. Just a
minute.

Yes, sir?

We demand justice.

Oh, God.

Justice, sir?

Justice, constable. Shut up, you silly
old prat.

As far as I can see, ladies and
gentlemen of the jury, we have been

charged. You haven't been charged at
all, sir.

Please only answer direct questions.

Court is in session.

This is not a film. This is real life.

They should castrate him.

Silence!

Any further interruptions when I shall
have to clear the court?

Now, Constable, do I have your undivided
attention?

You do, sir.

Good.

Now, you said just now that you didn't
wish to lay charges against my client,

Miss Trentyard.

No, sir. And why was that?

Well, not really necessary, sir. It's
down to my discretion, you know.

She screams like a nice old lady. Ah,
there we have it.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, a nice
old lady.

We can ignore the word nice, and it has
absolutely nothing to do with my

client's character.

We can accept the word lady, as that is
self -evident, which leaves us with but

one word, and what is that word,
Constable?

Old.

So you didn't bring charges because she
was what, Constable?

Oh.

Louder, please.

She was old.

Well, I don't think she would want not
to be charged because she was decrepit.

He said old.

I think she would prefer not to be
charged because she was innocent.

Sorry, sir?

What made you go in pursuit of Miss
Trent? We've been told to look after the

car, sir. The car wasn't speeding?

No, sir. Or committing any other visible
offence? No, sir. Nevertheless, you

still saw fit.

to stop the car and insist that the
driver of my client should follow you

here at a very boring 20 miles an hour.
Right.

I have here Miss Trent's licence.

Is this a valid licence?

Please look at it.

Yes, sir.

Can you tell me what groups it covers?

A, B, C, D, F and G, sir.

Exactly.

Miss Trent is not only entitled to drive
a Porsche car, but also a motorbike

with or without sidecar, an agricultural
tractor, and, if she so desires, a road

roller.

So, if she wasn't speeding, had a valid
licence, and was breaking no known laws,

what the blue blazes do you think you
were doing, pulling her over and

her back home like a naughty child? I
was just obeying orders, sir. That

has terrible precedent, Constable.

I was told the car was being driven by
someone who is incapable of handling

a car.

But now you know this to be untrue. Yes,
sir.

So you have been misled. Yes, sir. And
what is it called?

Wasting Police Times, now. An offence, I
believe.

Yes, sir. And who did the misleading?

Did you see him in the court?

It was that man there, sir.

Mr. Harvey Bain, you're sure of that?
Yes, sir. Just a minute.

Do your duty, constable. Would you mind
escort me down to the station, please,

sir? Why, yes, I would mind. Don't make
it hard on yourself, sir. All I was

doing was taking... Bye -bye, Harry.

It's Harvey. Come along, sir.

Justice?

Justice.

He got off, you know, Harvey Baines.

I didn't think they were going to bring
back hanging just for him.

Oh, no.

Pity they couldn't manage a little
flogging, though.

He'd be quite well in there for a
fossilised old fruit loop.

He'd hang out in the real world more
often.

You think, though?

Why not?

You could be a sort of late developer,
sort of Grandma or Grandpa Moses.

You're right.

Absolutely right.

And it's never too late to start.

From now on, I'm going to be brilliant
and famous in the real world.

No more fantasies. Jolly good.

I'll get on to Jimmy Stewart right away
and we'll really turn the place upside

down.

Come Christmas, I should at least be
front -runner for president.

My fellow Americans, think not what your
country can do for you,

but what you can do for your country.

Dear God, if you want to prove to me
that you really do exist, blow him up.