All language subtitles for Waiting for God s04e10 The Conference

Right, Mr Ballard.

What we have here is a classic prostate
problem. It's swollen, I'm afraid.

Why? Well, it just is, I'm afraid. These
things happen to the elderly.

Why?

Sorry? We both asked, why?

Why do prostates swell up?

If you could just stop writing your
novel against the clock there and give

explanation, we'd be ever so grateful.

God, it must be serious.

He stopped his clock.

Yes, no interlude.

No, that was take a pic.

This is beat the clock.

Remember that? The chap's still around.

Has paddy fields on his bonce.

Sinatra. That's it.

Bruce Sinatra.

No, no, no, no. Frank.

Foresight.

Excuse me.

I do have to turn over patients as an
average of one every six minutes, so if

could stick to the point.

I'm so sorry.

Please feel free to talk quickly.

Do you know what the prostate is?

I know where it is. You put your finger
right on it.

It's the gland which produces the
seminal fluid that carries the sperm.

Diana, cover your ears.

With age, all our mechanisms get stiffer
and produce more fibre tissue.

In the case of the prostate, this causes
it to swell and block off the urethra.

You know what the urethra is?

Oh, yeah.

Urethra Franklin, the American scene.

Oh, yes, I've heard of it.

Think about how she wants some R -E -S
-P -E -T -C.

Respectica.

Respectica, I suppose.

The urethra is where you pass urine.

When the prostate swells, it closes off
the top of the urethra, hence your

recent control problem.

So what are you going to do about it?

I'm referring you to the urology
department for a cystoscopy.

Oh, thank you.

Maybe I should have two.

If you'd like... Just a minute.

That's all right, Diana.

The doctor's very busy.

Sod that.

It's our prostate we're talking about.

Why can't you deal with it?

If it is swollen but soft, then there
are various causes of action I can

suggest. If it is hard and craggy, I
will assume it was in need of further

investigation. You mean if it was
cancerous?

What? That's a very emotive word.

It certainly is.

And Tom says what?

is one I'm not quite sure about.

Hence the referral to the urologist, who
will take out a little sample and let

us know what's what.

Worst -case scenario?

Diana, just keep out of this.

It's not our prostate.

It's my prostate, my problem.

Mine. All right?

Pardon me for breathing.

Well, don't.

Thank you, Doctor, for your time.

It has been a great six minutes.

I'm sure it's nothing to worry about,
Dad.

I mean, I heard that the only thing that
stops everyone having prostate problems

is death.

What?

We'd get it eventually if we lived long
enough.

Very comforting, Geoffrey.

Is it that thing where you carry your
bowels round in a handbag?

Shut up, you will be carrying your head
around in a handbag.

He smells bad enough, if it is.

He does not smell, Marion.

Well, I suppose you've noticed.

It's all relative, of course.

Some relatives smell like camels.

You see, the thing is, Dad... Dad!

Nothing, nothing. Just fine -tuning
Marion's perceptions of the elderly.

She does have a natural homing instinct,
doesn't she?

Haven't we forgotten someone?

Sodom. We don't need to know.

Here, have some.

Jane,

this is why the country is in such a
mess.

Because the government, instead of
supporting free enterprise, tax shelters

honest seal culling, keeps sending me
bits of paper telling me how to do my

Somebody's got to.

What?

Jane, you want to see a top executive
make an executive decision?

Oh, yes, Harvey. In the bin.

Your bin's the other side.

What's this?

European Year of Older People.

Da -di -da -di -da -di -da. Has been
chosen to represent your area on the

Council of European Old People in
Brudgee this year.

In Brudgee, Jane.

It's Bruges, Harvey, and it's in
Belgium.

Belgium? That's in Brussels, isn't it?

Oh, great.

Now, I'll do this. Yeah, a bit of a
junket. I mean, Belgium's a drag, but it

can't be too far from that place where
the women sit in the window.

Oh, no, Jane, Jane, please don't
screech.

You're not a parrot.

It's not referring to you.

What? It's referring to Diana.

They want her to go and represent the
elderly of the South Coast.

What, Diana? But that's ridiculous. I
mean, the elderly are the problem.

You don't send them to fix the problem.

I mean, if your car breaks down, you
don't send another car to go and fix it.

You get a mechanic, and that's what I
am.

Mechanic to the elderly.

Have Zimmer will travel.

Looks like they see it a little
differently.

Well, it's not fair. It should be me.

It's high time I got into the European
oldies market.

Yes, Harvey.

They do have oldies out there, don't
they, Jane?

One or two, Harvey.

Freddie, can you speak up?

No, I am not going deaf. You're mumbling
into your beard, you silly old coot.

Look, you were at the Ministry of Health
for 100 years. What do you know about

cancer of the prostate?

All you know is that they are fairly low
on the government's screening

priorities. Well, that is disgraceful.

What is their number one priority?

Breast cancer.

Yes, well, that's just as it should be.

No, that is not sexist. It is quite
correct, for once.

So, listen.

What? should Tom do?

All bran and a cork.

Thank you, Freddy. You've been most
helpful. Now you can go back to being a

senile old prat.

Nobody tells you anything.

See, it is all there somewhere, but how
the bloody hell do you find it?

Where are all the answers?

out of your mimsy little mushroom mind.

My father has been dead since just
before Julius Caesar waded up the plant

his leather wellies.

I meant your father in heaven.

Oh, God. Yes, God.

I meant, oh, God. Not, oh, God.

I was speaking in the evocative
provocative, not in the definitive

ablative. Thank you, Paul.

Look, I am not going to find out the
full story about cancer of the prostate

appealing to God.

In denying his existence for so long,
he's probably beginning to have severe

doubts about himself.

Diana, have you got prostate trouble?

No, Jane, I think that even without
bothering to stick my head up the

appropriate orifice and having a good
look round, I can positively say I do

have a prostate problem.

Oh, I am glad.

However, I would like to say how much I
am reassured by the fact that you, in

your capacity as matron, are obviously
so well up on the subject.

Thank you. I would just add one lengthy
point.

Yes? Women don't have prostates.

Oh. You mean all women, not just you?

What am I, something built in a
laboratory?

Contrary to what Basil may say, I am
constructed along much the same lines as

most of the other old biddies round
here, OK?

Yes, Diana.

Well, what do you want?

You've been elected to represent us in
Europe.

What, as a wine lick?

No, no, as an older person.

It's the European year of the older
person, and they've heard about you.

Who told them?

You. Well, you do tend to get things
done round here, so I thought you could

sort out, er, Europe.

Er, projects for the elderly in Europe.

Arts festivals, transport needs, a
dementia conference in Northern Ireland,

Coles to Newcastle.

What would she know about aged aches and
pains, great striding beastie of a

woman?

She positively radiates good health.

She's the only decent bloke in the
cabinet.

It will be your chance to do on a larger
scale what you get to do here on a

smaller scale.

No.

What? N -O, Jane.

Have you not noticed that the only time
I crusade is when it's for my own

personal benefit?

I am not a hired gun. I am not some
sloppy altruist. I am a selfish...

You don't want to help your fellow man?

No, stuff a waste of time, couldn't you,
madame?

You do depress me, dame.

Oh, good. Good to know I haven't lost my
touch.

I'll leave this here with you, just in
case God comes into your heart.

Well, he'd only find a bit of old flint.

I can't leave old Tom now.

You're early, boys. Mr Quatt's still
chasing lunch round the kennel.

That new fellow.

Mr MacLeod.

Is it true he was a surgeon?

A long time ago.

Come on, Tom.

He'll know what's what.

Ah. That well -known aftershave old
skunk.

Hello, Harvey.

Diana.

Always on the cutting edge of personal
relations, eh?

What do you want, Harvey? I'm trying to
consume an entire medical dictionary

before lunch.

There's nothing wrong, is there?

I mean, seriously wrong, by any chance?

My doctors think I should live until I'm
104.

Well, how wonderful.

Mind if I sit down? Yes.

What do you want, Harvey?

This.

European oldie thing.

Yeah. Well, a guy like me, a young man
going places, a mover and a shaker,

suave and soignee.

I need to maintain a high profile, a
sharp profile.

Try cutting your ears off.

getting into Europe, and I want to be
right in there with the top Eurocats.

Craps, Harvey.

Eurocraps. Really?

Doesn't sound quite right.

You're the real cool crap.

What do you want?

Well, thing is, if I'm going to get into
this Eurold market... What?

European old people.

Eurolds. God almighty.

It would be a great help if my
reputation for age and resources

before me. Very interesting.

So when you go to the creaky conference
thing, could you put a few good words in

for me, sort of pave the way?

Harvey, the only reason I would even
contemplate this Euroventure would be to

warn my fellow common mouthketeers about
the awfulness that is Harvey Baines.

I would have it written in the skies.

I would have it carved on the butter
mountain.

I would have it tattooed across my
buttocks. I would have it written...

all right.

It's all right.

I should have known. I mean, you know,
come on, when in doubt, you know, give

old Harvey a good kicking. I mean, he's
not sensitive, no.

No, he's just a punch bag for everyone
else.

I mean, why not just trample him into
the ground?

Oh, little puppet!

Yoo -hoo, Tom!

Tom?

Prostates affect your hearing.

Basil!

Basil?

What's the matter with him?

Just been talking to that new chap.

Hamish McUnderwear, or whatever his name
is. Used to be a surgeon.

Well, if he'd told me what he told Tom,
my career would be over.

For God's sake.

Tom?

Tom, will you stop gaping at the wall?

And tell me what Mac the Knife said.

It's too depressing.

It's all over.

What did he say?

He said they'd have to cut them off.

What?

The twin sources of the tribe of
Ballard. Oh, bollocks.

Decisive. No, no, no, I meant rubbish.
Look, I have been to the library.

If, and I do mean if, you have cancer of
the prostate...

It can be spread by hormone activity.

So old -fashioned thinking was, chop out
anything to do with hormones, i .e.

your nuts.

Since proved a load of cobblers.

Really? Yes.

So your family jewels are safe.

What about being forever out of control?
And if I lose my potency?

Well, if they chop it out, there is a
possibility you might have a bit of

trouble, i .e. not knowing whether
you're coming or going.

It is the difference.

Hamish also mentioned one other little
thing.

Dying. God, why did we ever stop
massacring the Scots?

Look, Hamish McFathead has not practised
for donkey's years.

Even then he was only a naval surgeon,
probably with Nelson on the victory.

All he knows about is amputations and
whacking hot pits on the thumps.

A lot of people die from cancer of the
prostate.

Yes, and a lot more don't die, Tom.

We don't even know that's what it is
yet.

Let's wait for your cystoscopy results.

And even if it is cancerous, they've
caught it early, they can bang it on the

head. That is the point.

Catch it early and you'll prevent it. If
in doubt, speak out. Some men find it

embarrassing talking about their droopy
doodars.

No, they shouldn't.

Some women find it embarrassing to hang
with their feet in stirrups while 500

medical students sit in the front row
stalls with their crisps and binoculars.

But we do it because we know we cannot
afford to get embarrassed. If you get

embarrassed, you will snuff it before
your time.

So, what else did the idiot Hamish have
to say?

He said that they could treat me with
hormones which would leave me with a

droopy doodah and breasts.

And I'd have to wear a bra.

Well, there's nothing about that in
here.

Just says you'll be rushing out and
buying Laura Ashley frocks.

Joke, Joyce. Just kidding.

Tom, you must stop listening to old
wives' tales and the collected gossip of

chronically ill -informed.

Read. All you can. Listen to the
experts, OK?

If you say so.

Well, I think it's time for a drink.

You know...

You're very good at it.

Well, I learned a lot sleeping around as
a young woman.

I didn't mean that.

I meant that communicating, getting your
ideas across.

Crusading.

Who's been talking to you?

Sorry? Have you been reading my mail?

Certainly not.

Well, forget it.

I'm not interested, and I'm not going
anywhere.

What are you talking about? It has
nothing to do with you or me.

Forget it.

I'm going to mug Basil for a lemon.

I can't wait a week for the test
results.

It's too long to sit under the sword.

I see your point.

I took my cat to be done once.

He forgave me.

Stopped going out on the tiles.

Just kept sitting about glaring at me
and spitting at all my lady friends.

It's for not knowing.

They should rush it through.

It's all schedules and economy now,
though.

No thought for the poor bloke hanging
about, chewing his nails up to the

Well, I wouldn't worry too much about
it.

It's of no great importance.

I mean, well...

Shall I tell you a great secret?

What is it, Basil?

Well, I'm not really all I'm cracked up
to be, you know.

Really? No.

Some days, well, three or four times a
day is all I can manage.

Hello. How are we all?

All nice and chubby, chubby, cheeky.

They're sending Tom down to the vets to
have him done.

Basil, please.

I'm sure that's not true.

I have said prayers for Tom, and I'm
sure they'll be answered.

You have faith, don't you, Tom?

Oh, yes.

See, Basil?

Tom is facing his predicament with a
strong heart and a clear eye.

He is being positive.

Look, he's even occupying himself making
one of those nice rope

potholders. Why don't you let us see it,
Tom?

Rectal blockages.

Hello. Speaking of which...

He's run at our place. Oh, really?

Do you know, no -one seems to know how
to treat cancer at the prostate.

Some people think leave well alone.

Some people think radical surgery, chop
it out.

Some people think radiotherapy, beam it
up Scotty.

What do you think, Geoffrey? I think my
father's trying to kill himself.

Oh, nonsense.

He just came round to our place, stood
in front of the garage.

pressed the remote control and tried to
brain himself with the door.

What happened? The door hit Marion.

Come on, Geoffrey, Tom's not stupid.
That was obviously his intention in the

first place.

Why, after all these years of putting up
with her, would he suddenly try and hit

her with a garage?

Geoffrey, Tom is not the suicidal type.
His God wouldn't like it. Now, don't be

so silly.

So you're not going to do anything to
help him, then?

Look, I am fast... becoming the world's
leading expert on prostates.

Come tomorrow evening, I'll be chopping
him out on the dining room table.

Don't you tell me that I'm not helping.

He needs something to stop him fretting
about these wretched tests.

Well, I'm giving him all the facts, the
prognosis, the good news.

What more can I do?

I don't know.

It is very wobbly.

And then this morning, we were waiting
for a bath, and just as it came up...

tried to step right out in front of it.
I don't believe it. If Ron hadn't have

swerved, Tom would have been a serious
pancake by now.

He's just being absent -minded.

Well, what about this note he left for
me?

Not to be open till Monday.

Dear Harvey, I just want you to know
that there is a place for all of God's

children on this planet.

Have you thought of space exploration?

What does that mean? I mean, it's
obviously a very disturbed mind.

You have to do something, Diana.

Listen, Diana, I cannot have hundreds of
nutters roaming around the place. No,

indeed. One is quite enough.

Right.

Now, you tell him. If he's contemplating
suicide, off the premises.

Tom does need something to take his mind
off things.

Like what?

Well, you know, Tom, if he can do
something for his fellow man, it usually

him out of himself.

Yes, of course.

Never mind a spot of cancer, Tom. You
get out and help someone across the road

and you'll forget all... Don't be so
silly, Jane.

If you could take him away somewhere.

What? On that old person's thingy.

Forget it.

Oh, and he'd get to meet the minister.

Oh, Tom would love that.

It'd be just like that film he's always
going on about.

You know, the one where Moira Stewart
goes to Washington.

It's Jimmy Stewart, Jane, not
Westminster.

Mr Deed goes to Washington, not
Westminster, so you can forget that.

way I'm getting involved in all that
carnival.

Oh, good old Winnie.

Oh, it looks like you are all piglets,
myself.

John Bright, 1865.

Little other than a red -tape talking
machine.

Thomas Carlyle, 1876.

Just you to be able to quirk every
nihilist who ever lived.

Excuse me, madam, can I help?

Yes. I have come to see the Minister of
Health.

Oh, yes.

And I'm her personal private secretary
and bodyguard.

I carried a little black box with which
she could blow us all the kingdom

tongue.

I don't think that was quite the right
thing to say, Tom.

That's all right, officer.

That woman who runs MI5 is my auntie.

Well, come along.

Affairs of the state to be done, to be
done.

I'm sorry, madam, you're at the wrong
address.

Oh, don't be so stupid.

How many houses of parliament are there?

The Department of Health, madam, is in
Whitehall.

You felly old fool.

I don't see you'll permit the PM here to
greet us.

I'll just do the run for Miss Piggy.

So, as you go off to the European
Council...

I just want you to remember that you not
only represent your country and your

generation, but far more importantly,
that you represent the generation of the

older people that follow you. You are
the vanguard of the older people's

revolution.

So, good luck and God bless.

Now, any questions?

Yes.

What do you know about prostates?

that something to do with the European
issue?

I expect so.

Being foreign doesn't preclude you from
having a prostate.

In little French, of course.

Could I be a bit more specific in your
terms of reference?

Yes. At the moment, prostates are 34th
on the list of government priorities.

Except for lungs and breasts, there is
no decent programme for the prevention

discovery of many latent cancers.

Now, what are you doing about it?

Well... It's all right, Minister.

Don't take any notice of Miss Trent. She
just likes bugging people.

And so she should.

If there were more Miss Trents in
government, there'd be no more question

sexual equality.

It's all right, all right. Cut the
flannel. Answer the question.

I intend to. But not right now, as we're
here to discuss the European year for

older people, not prostates. You haven't
got an answer.

I most certainly have.

if you'll sit down and wait behind after
class, I'll give you 20 minutes of

facts and figures, all right?

If they chop off yours, you could always
borrow hers.

Do you want me to dial the surgery?

Oh, no.

Well, it won't do itself.

I'll do it in a minute.

But first... What?

I want to say something.

No, don't, Tom.

In two minutes, when they tell you that
your tests are clear and you have made a

deep and meaningful speech, you will
feel an awful twit.

I'm prepared to risk it.

All right.

But don't be sentimental.

You are a hopelessly insensitive clod,
Diana.

I said don't be sentimental.

You believe that everything can be
achieved through sheer aggression and

bombast, and you never take prisoners.

Not too much of the sweet talk, either.

You not only have a venomous
relationship with the world, but also

very health. If you could, you'd eat
yourself from the tail up.

Would I indeed?

Yes. And you know something?

Your way often works.

You get things done. But is it right?

Or would you get just as much done if
you worked with the heart rather than

the spleen?

I don't know. It's your boring lecture.

That's the point. I don't know either. I
don't know whether you are awful or

wonderful. Does it matter?

No, not at all.

Because whether you are wonderfully
awful or awfully wonderful, right or

I am sure only of one thing.

I love you very much.