Original subtitles

Come on, Tom, get a move on. Time in art class is weak for no man.

I am the famous explorer, not the famous native bearer. Just count yourself

lucky I don't sculpt sodding great blocks of marble. Come on.

Diana!

You stupid old cow!

Are you OK?

A bit of a shock.

Look, get out of the bloody way, will you?

You fix the little... I just want to ask one question. What? Have you got a

small willy?

You see, I read this article. It said that drivers who yell at women are

probably suffering from the old button mushroom syndrome.

Now, go away.

But you shouldn't let it worry you because they also said that size doesn't

matter. Or were they talking about ears?

Can't remember.

Anyway... Don't you fret about your wee -willy -winky problem, because I don't

suppose many women even notice.

Ugly little short -arsed ruts like you.

Look,

go away, will you?

He didn't clobber him, then? Plenty of ways of killing a cat, Diana.

Silly old woman.

It wasn't your fault.

I was talking about you.

Raoul, Raoul, it's Harvey.

I'm in a crisis.

Well, of course, about my hair.

I'm not going to ring my coiffurist about my feet, am I?

No, I think we may have overdone the MacArthur oil deep heat treatment.

Yes, yes, I know it gives a soft, wavy look, durian quality, guaranteed to turn

heads when one enters the room.

But now it's all falling out.

I'm not getting hysterical.

I mean, why should I get hysterical? Just because I'm sitting here knee -deep

my own hair?

Just because I'm shedding like a bloody Labrador?

Just because I'll be like an albino bowling ball by lunchtime? Why should I

hysterical? What?

How many have come out so far?

Millions? Well, thousands, then hundreds?

Eighths?

I've got them on the desk here in front of me and... Raoul! No, Raoul!

This shouldn't happen to one of life's winners.

I shouldn't be sitting here getting nowhere while my hair leaps off my head

rats leaving a sinking dip.

Get back on, you stupid follicle.

Yes, Jane, what is it? Can't you see I'm in a crisis?

This came.

It's from the council inspector.

She's making her visit this week.

Organise everything, Jane.

disarm the residents and try and stop them spitting at the woman.

Just don't bother me with trivia.

Have you hurt your head, Harvey?

No. No, there's nothing wrong with my head.

Or my hair.

I've got a fine head of hair and it'll remain like that until I die.

There's been no hair loss in my family since Elizabeth I.

Wasn't she bald? No, don't mention that. Hurry,

Harvey. And tell Jenny, when she does my room... to sweep it minutely with a

dustpan and brush, and she must bring me whatever she finds. Have you lost

something? No, no.

No, nothing at all.

No, and I won't either.

Now, now, now, go away.

I expect they'll put a plaque up here one day.

Diana Trent, R .A., studied here.

Tom Ballard, F .A.

Got dead.

Darling, it's so ghastly.

What's going on?

No class today, darling.

Of course there's a class today. It's Thursday, isn't it?

Are we to adult education cutbacks? Our class will be suspended until further

notice. What?

We've been asked, darling. along with needlework, quilt -making and taxidermy.

Good gracious!

Don't tell me taxidermy's stuffed.

It is an outrage. What are you going to do about it, Gloria?

What do you mean, what am I going to do about it? What can I do about it?

Pathetic. Come on, Tom.

Deputy heads are going to roll.

Hello, Miss French.

How nice to see you.

Unmiserable Vivigoth. Why have you stopped the art classes?

My funds have been cut. I can only maintain the essential concession

What is more essential than art classes?

The over -60s keep -fit classes.

Nonsense. What is the point of prolonging the life of the body if you

mind get soggy? It is not my decision. It comes from the council.

What is Mr Ballard doing?

I'm a piece of living art.

I'm Gilbert and George.

You're Brahms and List.

I am trying to educate, but tell the Viking here.

I'm sorry. Unless the cuts are restored by the council, there is nothing I can

do. Good morning, Miss Trent, and please take her to the bit with you.

Looks like another punch -up at City Hall.

I think I'd look rather good in the gallery.

Providing I was well hung, of course.

It's quite simple, Miss Trent.

The policy has changed.

It used to be that Westminster stipulated what percentage of local

to be spent on adult education.

But now they leave it to us as to how much is allocated.

And you don't think that art classes for the elderly are worth a fig?

Because by the time the next council elections come along, the old buggers

be dead anyway.

So why waste money on them?

These are hard times, Miss Trent.

We haven't the income of the 80s.

So we have to allocate according to what we deem to be the priorities.

And what are they?

Mobile phones for local councillors?

Moist creches for the offspring of radical, sexually and vertically

persons?

A hospice for the dying.

A shelter for the homeless.

And a post -operative care centre for cancer patients.

All right, all right.

We don't have to look so smug.

You have a point.

But you don't know what it is like round here for the elderly.

Or round anywhere for the elderly, come to that.

There are 24 long, bloody hours in every day.

And you have to fill them.

You can't spend the time playing tiddlywinks with your valium.

Or trying to remember the bonk you had on VE Day.

You can't talk to your fellow man.

These concessionary classes may appear to be a token shop that can be cut as

soon as the old piggy bank stops rattling, but they are a lifeline to the

who use them.

They look forward to them.

It is something to get out of bed for in the morning.

You can't cut them.

They're like yanking out the plug on the old iron lung.

Bad for the health, old cock.

I'm sorry, not good enough.

What are you going to do?

Yes, what?

I'm retiring soon, so I can say what I like now.

I've had a right noseful of you two for the last few years.

Every time someone breaks wind in the wrong direction, you're in here

about your rights and bleeding all over the carpet.

Local government is to keep things running and to look after the really

not to be constantly wiping your ancient and pampered bodies.

Diana, don't kill him.

I admire his courage.

What exactly are you saying with these last words of yours?

You are in reasonable health. You are not poor. You are not incapable.

So apart from screaming the roof off every ten minutes, what are you doing

your fellow pensioners?

Hmm?

introducing... Will you

stop that?

I cannot hear my old traditional folk song.

I am cleaning the grouting between the tiles.

Your lasagna sauce gets right into the grouting.

I can't stand grubby grouting.

Grubby grouting is an anathema to me. There is no place in a decent universe

grubby grouting.

And introducing Harold Pinter on dialogue.

Oh.

He was right.

Who was right?

No one's ever right in your life.

David, the counsellor from hell. He was right.

Then we will have to get the art classes going ourselves.

We'll have to get those art classes going ourselves.

First we have to find premises.

First thing we've got to do is find the premises.

The dining room? We might try the... Do you mind?

It's bad enough sharing the same life with you. I do not wish to share the

brain cells.

I will talk to Harvey.

I have already done so.

He said, over his dead body.

Sounds a reasonable option.

Going crackers.

Would you like to put some cheese on us?

Sorry? What do you want, Jane, or have you just come round here to be wet?

It's Harvey.

I'm very worried about his behaviour.

Grave robbing again, is he?

He seems to be under a lot of stress.

Oh, dear. Poor little treasure.

He thinks life has passed him by.

Yeah, well, we must just get life not to pass him by. We must get life to back

up and run him over.

What's his problem this time?

He's become obsessed with his bodily functions.

I don't think I want to hear about this.

He thinks his hair's falling out and he's having nightmares.

He dreams about big blackheads chasing him round the countryside.

He's bought a little kit.

Well, nor does anyone else.

Dreadful little hemorrhoid.

He's very close to the edge.

He could have a breakdown.

Well, good, then we can have him towed away.

Oh, Diana!

Diana, stop being so vile. The child is distressed.

Now, Jane, what can we do for you?

The council inspector's making her rounds again.

Oh, goody. Oh!

women in the potting shed.

Good for Harvey.

Not a chance, Jane. We take no prisoners.

Hush, Diana.

It's all right, Jane.

We will behave like the considerate human beings that he isn't.

Oh, thank you.

That would be most appreciated and most conducive to harmony and stress

reduction. Bless you. Bye -bye.

Poor old Jane.

Always piggy in the middle. Well, I'm not laying off, are they? Oh, if he's

down, let's shove him over the edge.

Not sure.

He's been a bit odd lately.

Maybe we should ease up.

Rubbish! Just think we're going soft. Have us down the glue factory before you

can say pustular little zit.

No! Why, he's still got a jugular. Let's go for it.

No.

I think I'll go and look for some artistic premises.

You see, I want you to put yourself in the position of Michelangelo. The

hairdresser in the mall.

The Italian painter.

Supposing he turned up for work one morning, clocked in at the Vatican,

along to the Sistine Chapel, fully intent to bung another cherub on the

Could you get to the point, Dad? I have to give Volvo a good buffing.

Not the old Volvo.

Well, suppose he found the Sistine Chapel closed with a note on the door

owing to papal cutbacks, art had been cancelled.

Well, what would he do?

Have a large gin and tonic.

Geoffrey? I don't know, Dad. I mean yoghurts and cheese slices, not

conundrums. Well, think about it.

What would you do?

Find somewhere else to paint, I suppose.

Exactly. Now do you see what I'm getting at?

No.

Diana and her artists have been denied one building, so they need another.

Well, that's jolly interesting, Dad, but I'm not quite sure why you've come all

the way over here, got Marian out of bed in the middle of the day.

An interrupted Volvo's bar time to tell us all this.

Because I want to hire your house for the artist's group to meet one morning a

week. What?

Worth 20 quid a time.

Oh, great.

Book the villa in Antigua. Call Princess Margaret to tell her we'll buy her.

Well, there could be a bit extra as well.

How so?

Marion could model for them.

You know, life model.

All you have to do is to lie there and not move.

Jeffy says that's all you do anyway.

Is that what Jeffy says?

Well, of course I did.

Dad's just kidding.

Aren't you, Dad?

No, I'm sure that's what you said. Remember, down at the rugby club, the

the team thought it was very funny. Couldn't see the joke myself.

Marion, no.

Not to Volvo.

Me rather than Volvo.

Does this mean we can't use your place, Geoffrey?

Then she just sort of went trapo and biff poor old Geoffrey all round the

garden.

And you can't understand why?

I thought at first that it might be something I'd said, but I'm not sure

Oh, Tom.

What was that for?

It's just an appreciation of the fact that there are still some people who

come through this life completely unscathed. Oh, jolly good.

But that still leaves us without artistic premises.

We need that dining room. The council's inspection is tomorrow. We'll never get

our Yul Brynner to change his mind. I don't know.

I think I might try a bit of extraordinarily subtle, almost

psychology on the little creep.

Garotte him with a cheese wire. Yes.

Why don't you let me have another go at him first?

Yeah.

Maybe if I was taller.

Yes.

Tall people get all the breaks.

Their hair doesn't blow away in the wind.

Good heavens. The bald -headed prima donna.

Look. I'm sure you'll be guaranteed to turn heads when I come into a room.

I wear this for aerodynamic reasons.

Cut down wind with it.

Very clever.

And original, Harvey.

So good to see a fine mind at work.

What do you want?

Um, the dining room.

Forget it. It comes with a building.

Not to take it away.

To use it. You already do.

That's where you eat, or hadn't you noticed?

I meant between meals. Once a week for our art classes.

It's out of the question.

Why? Because.

Because what? Because life is a crisis, Tom.

It's one long string of crises.

This is, this is, this is, this is.

Avoid them, or they'll kill you.

So if you've got half an ounce of fence to rub together, you don't let a bunch

of old crackpots with paintbrushes clog up your dining room and make it all

mucky -yucky so as when your counselling inspector comes round and says, uh -oh,

what a mess, I'd better take your licence away and give you another

great crisis to sort out if that one hasn't killed you already.

Now, do I make myself clear?

OK, OK.

Keep your wig on.

This is not a wig!

Oh, God.

What have I done?

I could put them flat.

So, how did it go?

I think you'd better lay off.

He's a bit disturbed.

I knew you couldn't manage.

Never mind. I have called up reinforcement.

Who?

Here she comes.

Hello, Gloria.

Darling, how can I be of assistance?

I wonder if I could have a...

Hair from your head, Iris.

What for?

Just as a souvenir of our grand passion, I'd like to have a single hair from all

my wild women.

I'll have enough for the full wig next year.

I'm not at all sure about all this, Diana.

Well, don't pick up the racket if you haven't got the ball.

Well,

you'll be here in a minute, so you remember who you are and what to do. Do

to take the little chappy home with me?

You're a very thick person. Here he comes.

Basil, stand by.

All right?

Everybody happy?

I'm not, but don't worry about me.

Nobody worries about you, Harvey, except me, of course, but I don't count, do I?

No, so there.

Well, any complaints?

Yes, I've got a hair in my soup.

It's wild and black.

alopecia, Harvey. What does a billiard ball remind you of? What do you use that

for sofa with? Do you remember Kojak?

Oh, my.

Stop it!

Stop it!

Diana, how could you?

Yes. Yes, you are right, Jane. I'm sorry.

We must not make fun of Harvey. He really is quite a decent fellow.

What is it?

Nothing, nothing. Just a couple of hairs. Oh, Jane, you're going to have to

hoover this carpet.

Not worried about your hair, are you? Of course not.

Just because it's all deserted me, why should I worry?

Well, you shouldn't, because today is your lucky day.

It is? Oh, yes. You see my friend over here? She is a psychologist.

What's that?

Hair expert.

Oh, my God, I have to talk to you. Do sit down, darling.

Now, then, what can Gloria do for you?

Apart from the blindingly obvious.

The dining room's hardly the place for that, is it?

You have to help me.

How?

You've got to stop it falling out all the time.

What's she doing?

Not what you think.

Yes. You're not pulling any out, are you? I'm stimulating the blood vessels,

activating the porous potential of your divine scalp.

Now, let's take a closer look.

You see, the head is like a map.

By feeling the contours of your skull, I can tell you everything about yourself.

Down to the weather on the day you were born.

What was it?

Dull.

Oh! What is it? For God's sake, what is it?

Oh, the problem isn't in or on your head.

No, it's off my head in great tough.

It's in yourself.

Eh? Your inner self doesn't feel you're beautiful.

Doesn't it? Your inner self secretly feels that you are a feeble failure.

Well, whose side is it on?

also tells me that you have the intellectual insight of a carrot and

that you shave between your eyebrows and it also tells me that you dream you're

being pursued around the countryside by giant blackheads. Oh, come on, stop,

stop.

It's all true.

Oh, God, I can't bear it, but it's all true.

I'm hopeless, I'm useless, I've done nothing with my life.

I'm a dreadful, shallow phony.

And soon I'll be a bald, shallow phony. I've got to give up.

Diana, you must stop this now. He's cracking up. No, he's not.

This is wrong.

You're going too far.

I want no more to do with it.

There is a way forward, Harvey.

There is? You must speak firmly with your inner self and strengthen your ego.

But how?

Now then, what is the most egocentric and...

most glorifying thing a person can do?

Join the Young Conservatives?

No. Have his portrait painted.

What, and that would stop me losing my hair? Bound to.

So the more portraits, the more hair? Right.

So if I have ten portraits painted, would I be hairier than a Spaniard's

shoulder? No, but I can't. Why not?

It would cost money.

Oh, not necessarily.

I'm sure a smart fellow like you could find some way of having it done.

On the cheap.

What are you trying to do, anyway?

Yesterday, he would not let us use the dining room. Today, he will let us use

the dining room for our art classes.

Maybe. And tomorrow, he will be modelling for us.

Never. Want to bet?

No. I think you're taking all this too far. The man's unstable.

Your sport could send him totally doodally.

Rubbish! He hasn't got the intelligence to go mad.

dining room for your art classes.

On one condition.

And what could that possibly be?

You have to paint him.

We'd prefer to stick to campus.

As a model.

He wants half a dozen portraits of himself.

Half a dozen?

Seems to think that'll stop his hair falling out.

Doesn't he know it's a life class?

What's that?

He'll have to pose in the nuddy. Oh.

He says he wants to be dressed.

in a manner befitting his position.

Has he got a pantomime horse's costume?

Oh, Diana.

In his almost Armani suit.

Hard luck, Diana.

Oh, I don't think that's a good idea, Jane. I mean, after all, he is our

our commander -in -chief, our emperor.

Our fiddling little Nero.

I think he needs to be wearing something more classical.

You're right.

And he likes ice cream.

I will even make the costume myself.

Oh, how wonderful.

I'll go and tell him. Bye.

Life, class.

Even Baines isn't stupid enough to set himself up naked in a public place.

Yes. Yes, I suppose you're right. Silly idea. Never mind. At least we've got the

premises and the model.

I'll just have to be happy with that.

Ah, Mrs. Pershaw.

Yes?

Harvey Baines of Bayview asked me to drop by to see if you'd mind making your

inspection a day earlier. It appears that we have an outing arranged for the

following day.

Yes, I think I can manage that.

I'll confirm it with Baines. No, don't worry, I'll do it. Sure.

Oh, yes, yes, no problem.

Bye.

Oh, yes.

Bow on the shoulder, Jane. I always had a bow on the shoulder. Oh, right.

Now, Harvey, hands. Now, one here, though, and the other... So, yes,

in the Senate.

Oh, dear.

What?

Panty line.

What? I can see your unders through the sheet. You'll have to slip them off.

Yes.

Caligula didn't wear jockey shorts.

Oh, right.

Oh, excuse me.

What are you doing?

Little me.

What's the matter? Nothing, nothing. You're doing fine. Just turn your head

way. That's it. Chin up so we can see that nice firm jawline.

Come on, girl. I haven't got all day. Oh, God.

Harvey! No, not now, Jane. Can't you see I'm posing?

Please!

Um, Councillor, to impress the board.

Jane is taking him to a clinic. Clinic? He's not pregnant, is he? It's a

psychiatric clinic.

Oh, don't be so silly.

There's nothing wrong with him. You just don't see, do you?

What do you mean? He's blown a head gasket, for goodness sake.

Couldn't you see that?

He's just a bit upset.

He's calling for his mother.

It's not my fault.

And you damn well didn't help, did you?

No -one's any fun any more.