Original subtitles

Now, that's very interesting.

What is it?

Don't join business.

Is it another missive from those age -concerned people?

Yes. I've been meaning to talk to you about them.

Oh, really?

Harvey's blood pressure, you see.

Well, he doesn't have blood in his veins, Jane. He runs on oil.

He's a very sensitive person. Jane.

And the more you provoke him, the greater strain you put on his delicate

Oh, I think I'm going to be sick.

You just don't realise.

exterior there hides the soul of a poet.

Yes, he is still a mortal man.

If you prick him, does he not bleed?

No, he does not. He squirts pure multigrade.

Oh, you do shut up, Jane.

I, in conjunction with these very splendid people, am going to pull this

into the 20th century if it kills me. Or better yet, if it kills Harvey Baines.

I do hate cut flowers.

Hello, Jane, I'm back.

Give us a kiss.

Oh, Basil, so that it was.

Tom, look who's here.

My God.

Hello, Tommy baby.

Basil, is that you? Certainly not. It's Tom Cruise, super stud.

My dear fellow, how wonderful to see you.

It's been three months.

You and Betty only went on a ten -day cruise. Where have you been?

Right round the world.

And where did you get the world's most awful shirt and why have you got a

hanging round your neck?

We went to Hawaii and Tahiti.

Bora Bora.

I bet it was.

Jane, hang this round your neck.

It'll attract all the fellas.

Really? Oh, yes.

A splendid aphrodisiac.

Mustache. Think I hear Harvey call.

That had a bit of a row.

Oh, you haven't chopped her up and left her in the suitcase at Waterloo Station,

have you? No, certainly not. No, we just had a major barney. I kept telling her

that I had got her mind, but she only wanted me for my body.

Yes, I had the same trouble with Brigid Bardot.

Forget the meaningful discussions.

All she wanted to do was to tear my clothes off my body.

Ah, well, after ten days...

I said that I needed a day off.

So Betty ran off with a Japanese bullfighter.

What have you been doing since?

Oh, you know, hanging around with the Hawaiian surf crowd.

Working my way through the beach bimbos.

What's been happening here?

Oh, nothing really.

Couple of earthquakes, spot of plague, visitors from Mars.

Just the usual.

Foul as ever.

And your family, young Geoffrey?

Ah, well, now, to tell you the truth, Geoffrey's been a little odd of late.

What did you say?

I said I'm leaving you.

Leaving me what?

Leaving you.

Going away from you. I'm walking out. I do not wish to spend any more of my life

with you. I do not wish to be married to you. Our marriage is over. I want a

divorce. I don't want to see you again.

Geoffrey, are you trying to tell me something?

Just a minute.

What?

Did you say you're leaving me?

Yes. Oh.

You didn't get any lemons, did you?

I'm leaving.

Our entire life is about to go down a black hole and you are asking me whether

got any lemons?

Well, did you?

Yes, dear. They're under the sink with the tonic.

Right. Bye, then.

Goodbye, dear.

Geoffrey. Yes.

Where are you going?

Where am I going? Yes.

I mean, if you're leaving me, you must be going somewhere else. I was just

wondering where.

Um, I'll find somewhere.

I am a reasonable man, Diana.

Aren't I, Jane?

Oh, you are, Harvey. Very reasonable.

Not only reasonable, but sensitive, charming and passionate. All right,

just don't go mad.

You're not a reasonable man, Harvey. You're a dreadful little crook.

If it wasn't for me, this place would be run like wormwood scrubs, but without

the sense of freedom.

I think you've been got at, Diana.

Got at?

These communist agitators you mix with.

Oh, do you mean age concern?

I've seen the literature you get, Diana.

Every time one of their pinko manifestos comes through the door, you're in here

with all manner of subversive demand.

Do you mean wheelchair ramps?

Right. Before, when the old ducks were wheeled up and down the steps, they were

perfectly happy with a bit of a bump and a clonk.

Not now, oh, no. Now it's wheelchair access ramps everywhere.

And the modifications to the minibus. You mean the use of a professional

Antonio was a perfectly good driver.

He drove on the wrong side of the road.

Well, what do you expect? He's Portuguese. They do that sort of thing

You really must be a little more tolerant.

He also had no medical or ambulance training at all, and he frequently

close the back doors.

Every time he went round a bend, he jettisoned half his customers.

was littered with startled pensioners sitting around like wayside gnomes.

I don't trust this sporadic social conscience of yours, Diana.

I think you're trying to get right up my nose.

There is that, of course.

Sorry, Harvey.

Yes, well, I have made my formal request, and as such, you are duty

put it before the board.

They'll fire me, you know.

The doctors who own this place, they know the value of money and they don't

it fritted away on senseless health care nonsense.

We want panic buttons installed in every apartment.

If you don't do as we ask, we will all go down to the shopping mall and take

clothes off.

Oh, God, not again.

We have been warned.

Farewell, Tom DeLeo.

Jane, I don't want any more of this health care nonsense. Age concern

coming through the door. Just bribe the postman. Right -o, Harvey.

Now, about these alarms, would you like me to do a costume?

No, don't be silly. Just leave it to me.

Oh, uh, Jane.

What are you doing for dinner tonight?

Works.

Nothing, Harvey.

Oh, good.

See if you can sort that lot out, would you?

You're such a swine.

You warm my heart.

Well, someone's got to keep the little bastard in line.

Excuse me.

Hello. Cary Grant here.

What? Who?

Oh, it's you, Marion.

And how are you?

It's Marion.

She's singing and wants to dance on the roof.

Get her a ladder.

What?

You feel pretty?

Oh, so pretty.

You feel pretty and witty and gay.

Oh, she's rung off.

What was all that about?

I think Marion's had a quiet paddle round the old gin vat this morning.

Dreadful little squawking brain -dead shrew.

Should never have let them marry, Tom. Oh, Geoffrey wasn't the greatest catch,

exactly. I'll say.

Centuries of breeding and all you could come up with was a Geoffrey.

The last few millennia looked like a bit of a waste of time.

Yes. What he needs is ginger.

Ginger? It's an old trick of Irish horse dealers.

You get a boring old half -dead nag, stick a bit of ginger up its arse.

See him get it good and frisky. Should try some on Geoffrey.

They look so hopeful on their wedding day. Yes, they always do.

Marriage. What a weird concept.

Two people meet, spark off an emotional explosion, which is probably the most

intense feeling they will ever have in their entire lives.

They rush off to a church, swear they will keep it up forever.

Then, when the steam of lust has cleared, they see each other's black

nasal hair with popular clarity.

They realise they are joined at the legal hip and are condemned to years.

of felon compromise, bitterness, despair, depression, futility.

Only if they're lucky, the blessed release of an early death.

I never realised it was such fun.

Well, I speak, of course, from the lofty point of total ignorance of the state.

We enjoyed it, Maggie and I.

It was wonderful to start with, but just kept getting better.

It's 15 years since she died, and yet I still find myself turning towards her to

share a thought.

Only to find she's not there, and... Don't get maudlin, Tom.

Might be forced to be sick.

I never understood why you didn't get married.

Oh, God!

Oh, yes, I know, I know, yes.

All your lovers were bastards.

But you're such an impetuous creature, and marriage is an impetuous act. I can

never understand why the person and act never got together.

Well, the best ones weren't only bastards.

The best of the lot was a married bastard.

Ah, picky.

I set my cap at that one man for 30 years.

I'll have him one day, I thought.

And did you?

Frequently, biblically, but...

Permanently. He was always gone by breakfast.

Well,

I was a mistress.

No wise man ever marries his mistress, does he? Merely creates a vacancy.

A cad and a bounder. Oh, yes. He was never going to leave his wife.

I scanned the obituaries every day in case the silly card had the decency to

step under a bus.

That's terrible.

No. That's being a woman.

When it comes to the obsessive desire for a certain mate, we are far more

primeval creatures than simpering menfolk with their long faces and

poetry. We want to get, not suffer.

But you didn't get.

Nor did you get got.

No, I failed.

Hello? Dad?

Oh, that's Geoffrey. Oh, good party time.

Hello, Geoffrey.

Lovely to see you.

Delivering some yoghurts in the area?

Um, not quite, Dad.

Is Marion with you?

No. Of course not. She just rang me.

Oh, what did she say? Oh, nothing really.

Just singing mainly and tap dancing.

Oh, I see. Look, can I have a word with you, Dad?

Oh, be my guest. Have two. Be a devil and have a whole sentence.

I mean, in private.

Oh, Diana.

I have no secrets from each other? Yes, of course we do, Tom. Besides, I have

absolutely no desire to hear the riveting revelations of Mr.

Excitement here.

I shall be hammering Basil into the croquet lawn.

No, she's not really rude.

It's just her manner.

No, she's right. I am a terribly boring person.

Oh, no, Geoffrey, you're not terribly boring.

It's all relative.

I mean, there are societies, I'm quite sure, where the endless discussions of

DIY and real ills are considered to be the height of witty repartees.

Dad, I've left Marion.

You've left her what?

Oh, don't you start. I've left her, moved out. It's all over.

Oh, Geoffrey.

Well done.

Congratulations,

a man of...

I'm so happy for you.

Look, Basil, a parrot.

Where?

I can't see a parrot.

No, of course you can't. This is Bournemouth, not Tahiti.

But you just said... Ah, look, Basil, I know what your game is. Trying to put me

off going on about parrots. Well, I'm sick of your cheating. Any more of it

you'll cop this in your favourite toys.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Shut up.

Watch while I...

Play my winning shot brilliantly.

Diana!

You cloth head!

You owe me £10. What for?

For spoiling my winning shot.

Now the Sex Pistol here will win the game and I'll lose the £10 we were

for. We were only playing for 10p.

Thank you, Basil.

Prat.

Oh, yes.

Oh, what is it?

Is it my extra -strength condoms?

No, it is not.

And I'd be very grateful if you didn't write things like that on the residence

shopping list.

It's a laughing stock of boots.

Well, come on, then. What is it?

Well, as you know, Diana has requested that all residents should have access to

an alarm system in case they're attacked.

I never attack anyone.

I'm always invited in.

Aimed at you, Basil.

So what cheap trash has Baines come up with this time?

Is it one of those high -powered, wailing, bleeping, fleshing jobs?

Well, they do make a lot of noise.

Come on, then.

Can't tomorrow lecture at the sex therapist's convention.

What can they teach you?

Nothing. I'm giving the lecture.

Go away, Baz.

What, who?

Oh, hello, Jeffrey. Still here?

You're in my feet.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

Still keeping the vampires at bay, I see.

Oh, what a perfectly formed elbow.

Oh, sorry.

Ah!

Farmyard impressions.

No, no, no. No, no, don't tell me, don't tell me. It's, um... No, no, I'm very

good at farmyard impressions.

It's, uh... I know. It's a toad farting in custody.

Sat on some ginger, has he?

He's left, Marion.

Left her what?

Why can't anyone believe that I have the strength of character to walk out on my

wife? Oh, Geoffrey, well done.

That's what I said.

What brought this on?

Well, nothing in particular.

Just years of embarrassment and humiliation.

She's slept with half my friends. She pops pills till they're coming out of

ears. She's a hopeless mother and, well... Sometimes I go as far as saying

not very nice.

I'd never have known.

So, you've got yourself somewhere lined up, have you? A little pad somewhere, a

fridge full of shampoos? Well, I've got a temporary place, thanks. Oh, really?

Well... Here, I'm stopping with Dad for a bit.

Won't that be fun?

Happy lunchtime, everybody.

It's a lovely day.

Any questions, any problems, everybody happy.

The really interesting thing about pine shelving, that is, proper Norwegian

pine, not your local rubbish, is its potentially wooden quality.

I mean, a lot of people find pine a bit dull and common, and they have the more

exotic woods for their shelves.

But I will always go to bat for good, solid pine.

I find the best place to get it is Mason's, just up the 314. You know where

mean. If you go past the railway station, then cut across on the 217,

find you save quite a few minutes by taking the bypass, which comes out just

beyond Mason's Yard.

Mason himself is a fine man, and we often spend hours checking the grains

discussing cross -cut techniques.

I'm not boring you, am I?

What? Oh, good Lord, no, no.

Who'd want to talk world news when they can get the lowdown on kitchen shelving?

Oh, just as I know that Dad sometimes thinks my interest in real ale and DIY

a bit obsessive. Isn't that so, Dad?

No?

Yes,

Wednesdays. It's tumbling out of cold.

How long does that take?

Well, it depends who's... Our duty and whether Dickie Attenborough's finished

the travel passes.

Dickie's getting a bit slow in his old age. Mind you, they all are. Tunnel full

of ageing actors all bashing into each other like blind moles. They'll probably

be down there for years.

Anyway, as I was saying, the other good thing about pine is its friendly

quality. I think if you're going to live with shelving for a few years, you want

it to be friendly.

You want to feel welcome in your own kitchen. You want to feel welcome in

own house.

Marion's never made me feel welcome in my own house. That's probably why I've

always thought peace and quiet in the garage with my shelving and workmate

bench.

I was actually in the forefront of the campaign for real ale. The local branch

president said I was one of the unsung heroes of the movement.

That was in the 70s, of course. Now, I suppose I'm what you might call a battle

-hardened veteran of the campaign.

And it was a real campaign.

Oh, yes, mark my words. Some of the local landlords were very hostile.

One of them used to sell us a packet of hot scratchings for being rude about his

mass -produced bitter.

Of course, if you want a really efficient alarm system around here, I

the thing. You do?

Turkeys. What?

Turkey is much more effective than guard dogs and a lot less dangerous. A lot of

Eastern European people watch turkey around the place. I tell you, if they

stranger, they kick up an awful stink. I got one once, but my wife strangled it

and ate it.

But I must say that I was a bit put out because I had become quite fond of old

Gertie and I didn't actually realise that I was eating her until her little

tag got caught in my teeth.

Oh, I'll see you later then.

Um, have you ever thought about pine shelving?

It's all right. It's only me.

Where is he?

I don't know.

Out progging his yoghurt somewhere, I suppose.

He's not going to come rushing in and start telling me about his collection of

1958 train timetables. No, he's gone for a while.

Thank God.

Oh.

We were up half the night discussing the effect of road work on house prices.

Did you know that the bypass was, in fact, an invention of the Romans and

the local one...

had created as much as a 6 .5 % price rise in... Oh, Tom, don't you start.

Oh, I'm sorry, but it's catching.

There's something quite mesmeric about cataloguing a myriad of useless facts.

It's like an anaesthetic. Too much and it can kill you.

That had crossed my mind.

Tom, you have got to get rid of him.

He is my son.

Yes, well, I'm sure Mrs Mussolini said the same thing about her, little boy.

But it would have been far... Better for all concerned if she had set aside

cloying sentiment and throttled the fat little bugger.

But what can I do?

Just send him back to Marion.

I wouldn't wish death on anyone, even Marion.

Has he told you about his collection of 3 ,000 grass seed catalogues? No.

Has he listed the additives permitted in his yoghurt?

No. Has he told you what is inside a golf ball? All right, all right.

What are we going to do?

Leave it to me.

No, thank you.

Here we are.

Would you like to be mother? Well, I will pour the coffee.

There's only one cup.

No, I don't drink coffee. It's a form of stimulant.

Why are you dressed like Superwoman?

I have an aerobics class.

I believe in a healthy mind and a healthy body.

Since when?

You've been an animated pharmacy longer than Tom's been old and batty. But not

anymore. I don't believe you.

I think you've discovered a new happiness pill.

No way. I might try it. You look years younger. What's it called?

It's called living without Geoffrey.

Just as long as you don't want me to have him back.

Well, now, actually... Do you know, he once wanted to count all the hairs on my

head. To see if I complied with the national average.

And did you?

When he got to two million, I stabbed him in the leg.

So, now you have given up your booze and your pills.

I'm a new woman.

Yes, you certainly are. Who knows, perhaps you didn't really hate me after

Oh, no, that was perfectly genuine.

Yes, it usually is.

So, what do you intend to do with your new life? I intend having a good time

a few years. Quite a few years.

What about your revolting children? Oh, they're all going to kennel.

Boarding school.

During holidays, I will be the mortal mother.

And during term time?

I'm just getting back onto my own feet. I see a glorious life ahead of me, but

I'm still not quite my old self. The habits of half a lifetime are hard to

off. So now I appeal to you, as one woman to another, if I am to have a

at happiness, please don't try and bring Geoffrey and me together again.

All right?

How did it go with Marion?

Well... He's driving me nuts.

Do you know how many bricks there are on the Great Wall of China?

No.

And he wants me to take up Morristown.

It depends on the size of the bricks.

What's that?

In the Great Wall of China, the number of bricks would depend on the size of

bricks. Geoffrey. Yes, Diana.

I have been to see Marion.

Well, she wouldn't know. She knows nothing about bricks.

She was discussing your situation.

OK, what's she say?

Well... She said to me, in confidence, as one woman to another... Yes.

No, I can't tell you. It's all right, I can tell you.

Well, she said... She misses you terribly.

What?

Marion, say that.

Yes, but she said she would never be able to tell you. In fact, she said she

would probably tell you to go away, but she said you were not to listen to her.

She said she wanted you to be stubborn and determined and the man about the

house and insist on staying however much she threw things at you.

This is true.

Shut up.

Poor darling, I must go to her at once. Yes, yes, you must, and be firm, be

strong, and take earplugs.

Thank you, Diana.

I can't believe this is possible. The kids told me she was singing and dancing

and doing cartwheels on the patio. No, no, no.

Hysteria. She wants you now.

But ring her first. Why? Well, maybe she wants to give you a big surprise.

Or not give you a big surprise.

Just go, Geoffrey, and good luck.

I have to go, Dad. I'm sorry. I know you'll miss me.

I'll manage.

I'll look up that brick thing.

Oh, do.

Wonderful.

Bye, Geoffrey.

Bye, Dad.

Diana. What?

You fibbed. Me?

Yes, even Marion in all her awfulness would not want that bone -brained dope

back again.

Don, that's your tongue.

My friends I choose, my relatives are inflicted upon me. What have you done?

Well, he's going to drive somebody round the twist. If it hadn't been her, it

would have been you. I was merely looking after my interest.

Oh, so I'm an interest to you, am I?

I didn't say that.

Well, what did you say then?

Tom, shut up. Oh, come on. Make a statement, woman. What am I to you?

What is an interest?

No, don't upset the balance. No, no, no. I mean, am I a hobby or a plaything?

I mean, where are we? No, Tom.

Never ask the questions. You may get the answers.

Back old memories.

I was a biggin' hill.

Had a pang and lost both my legs. Then was chopped down by the hun and they had

to drop in a pair of tin legs for me.

That is very tasteless, Tom.

Is it? Oh, good.

I've always wanted to be tasteless.