Original subtitles

♪ Every time I pause she look at me

♪ Every time I pause she look at me

♪ I'm gonna tell my mama don't send me down here

God almighty. Yo, look pon dis one.

She sweet, don't it? You know her?

No, man, left she alone. That woman 'ave fire in a she belly.

You don't know what ya talking 'bout. Me 'ave water in my belly.

Make me cool her down.

Boo!

Move away! What is wrong with you?

A joke me a mek, me man. Me sorry!

You lucky me never broke my foot off inna ya rass.

Lord God, look how ya nose a bleed.

- An you de one do it. - Sorry, man, sorry.

Me name Aston, by the way.

Myrtle.

You owe me a new handbag.

♪ Then sings my soul

♪ My saviour God, to thee

♪ How great thou art

♪ How great thou art

♪ Then sings my soul

♪ My saviour God, to thee

♪ How great thou art

♪ How great thou art

I am so sorry for your loss.

But I categorically refuse to play Angels by Robbie Williams.

I will be playing jazz because it's perfect for every occasion.

(tuts)

Just give it up, Nick. Let jazz go. I have and I'm happier for it.

You're regional sales manager for a dairy-free cheese firm.

Yeah, Lauren's right. Fill your life with something else.

Find love in Christ, like me and Sheila.

We're engaged.

- God be with you. - Right.

- What about Victoria? - Who?

The love of your life, who you said you could never move on from?

Oh, Victoria. Nah, she was just good times.

(whispers) And the best sex I ever had.

Well, just 'cause you two losers bailed on the band

doesn't mean Horace and I have.

- (Lauren) Why's he so upset? - I think his nan's dead.

- They had a row before she died. - Did she try and slap his legs?

'Cause she did that to everyone. She was a right bitch.

What? The woman was violent. Nana Myrtle was a fat, mean bitch.

You all right, Horace?

That's not very nice, is it, Lauren?

I mean, yeah, she was handy with her fists and could be a B word,

but she was my nana.

Horace, bruv, where you going? Your nan's not gonna bury herself, man.

- Horace. - Nice one, Lauren.

- Man. - What?

Man, why is everyone so miserable today?

I missed him. He was jumping on a bus to Peckham with Homeless Pete.

Why's he going to Peck...

Oh, shit.

Horace, stop! Wait!

No, Nick, no.

I have to go back to last Thursday, about 8pm.

Emmerdale was about to start,

and that's when Nana fell down the stairs.

If I can just warn her...

Horace, you can't do that, all right? We can't alter the past.

Remember Back To The Future, when Marty McFly starts disappearing

because he stops his mum meeting his dad?

What, no one's seen Back To The Future?

- No, I didn't get round to it. - I haven't seen that film, you know.

There's no black people in it, so my mum said no.

But I have seen the porn version. He does bang his mum.

Look, I'm not gonna bang my nana.

So just don't worry about me. I'll be fine.

No!

- Well, we tried. - We've gotta go after him.

Sorry, are you insane?

The last time we got in the time machine,

we were chased by a pack of velociraptors.

Guys, I think this is the time machine.

(yells)

Fuck's sake.

Homeless Pete, take us back to whenever you took Horace.

Two minutes to eight last Thursday. Come on, Nick.

- For fuck's sake, Nicholas. - What the fuck am I doing?

Wait. Are we going back in time again?

We're coming for you, Horace!

When the hell are we?

I'm guessing not last Thursday night just before Emmerdale.

Do you reckon Vodafone will send me one of those texts,

like when you're abroad?

Doubt it.

We're in 19-fucking-58.

No, 19:58, as in just before 8pm, not the year.

Homeless Pete, you di...

How the fuck does he keep doing that?

Oh, this is just great. This is just perfect.

I mean, why are we never taken to a decade where black people are liked?

- What decade would that be? - We should just go home.

- Not without Horace. - How do we even know he's here?

His bumbag's still warm.

Wait. Does this mean I can see Victoria again?

Not all olden times are the same. There's more than one olden time.

Victoria! I'm back, baby!

Can't wait to be inside you again.

Hey! Yeah, man.

Jason. All right?

- Whaap'm, fellas. - Whaap'm, Aston.

Is what sweet you, son?

Yo, me just did get one new bar of soap.

Me a go give my armpit and balls dem one piece a clean, you see?

Beg you let me borrow it after?

Nah, man, you can't borrow me tings.

Are you dumb? What wrong wid it?

Eh, bwoy. You lost?

Oh, yes, I am, actually. Do you know where number 72 is?

Is who you a look for?

My nana. Myrtle.

Myrtle? The Jamaican firecracker?

Yeah, sounds about right. Do you know her?

You best take a sip of rum fi calm ya nerves

before you meet dat beast of a woman.

Yeah, she can be a bit grumpy.

She once knocked me unconscious with a cake tin.

Thanks.

Victoria! Baby!

Have you seen a white woman, answers to the name Victoria?

Dark hair, creamy breasts, pubes that smell like summer rain?

- (Nick) Jase, leave it. - Victoria?

- It's me, your Nubian prince. - (screams)

Jase, what are you doing?

My baby's here.

I can feel her, I can smell her, I can... I can taste her, bruv.

Jase, Victoria probably died in the Blitz, like half of London did.

My baby died?

No. No, man.

Shh. Shh.

There.

I'll never hold her again or... or kiss her.

Or slip my tongue in between the crevice of her batty crease, man.

OK, maybe keep it in.

- Shh. - ♪ You're gonna tell your mama...

It's Horace. Horace! Come on.

♪ I'm gonna tell my mama don't send me down

♪ You better tell your mama don't send me down

♪ I'm going to tell my mama don't send me down here

- Horace. - Hey, guys.

- Hey. - Oh, my God.

- What are you doing here? - Looking for you. To bring you home.

Bruv, Victoria's dead. It's cool.

It's better to have smashed and lost than never to have smashed at all.

- Yeah. - Yeah, nice, cool.

- Now, can we please go home? - I haven't found my nana yet.

I still need to warn her about the stairs.

Jazz, jazz...

- I bloody love jazz. - Jazz, jazz, jazz.

Sorry, are you... Is that a trumpet? Are you a band? Are you a jazz band?

No, I like jazz too. No, where you going?

- Ow! - Oi.

- You just knocked over my bird. - Did I? Oh, right. Sorry.

Did a bunch of musicians come by here?

- Did you hear that? Sorry? - It ain't good enough.

How would you like it if I knocked over one of your birds, eh?

Why you a push me for?

- Shame on you. - Nana Myrtle.

Oi!

- What you playing at? - Nothing.

Not you. Him. You toilet.

I don't care what colour she is. No one pushes a lady.

- (girl) Ginger tosser! - (boy) Wanker!

- (man) You all right, love? - Me fine.

Just a likkle bruise is all.

That's more than just a likkle bruise, sweetheart.

Let's get this seen to.

You can see to me all you like.

Nana Myrtle.

- I know a place just up here. - Mind your legs. She's a slapper.

Excuse me? Me know you?

Oh, no, shit. I'm not supposed to talk to you.

- The Blue Flamingo! - What happened to you?

Oh, shit. Sorry. Sorry.

Nick.

Where is that lanky twat?

(grunts)

Oh, that's a bit weird.

(crackling)

(play lively jazz)

This... This is jazz.

- What you called? - Sorry?

- Your band, what you called? - Oh. The Wu Tang Clan.

It's just how I imagined it in my wet dream.

(Nick scats)

Right, well, if you could just lay off any more drugs

until after your set, I would really appreciate it.

Hold on, wait, hold on. What? My set?

Oh, my God. My band's playing the Blue Flamingo.

Oh, my God!

Wait. Where the fuck is my band?

Your hair's a lovely colour.

Sort of a strawberry blond.

(crash of thunder)

(grunts)

Horace, you all right?

Yeah. I think I'm travel sick.

- You've not been anywhere. - Must be time-travel sick.

Guys, guys. I know why we're here. I know why we're in the '50s.

It's to get the band back together. This is jazz time.

Dizzy, Louis, Ella, the one and only General L Hands.

And I have just got us a gig at the Blue Flamingo.

Yay!

- What's the Blue Flamingo? - Where's Jason?

Dealing with Victoria's death.

Yeah, people grieve in different ways.

This is jazz.

Beer, please.

Have you got anything that doesn't taste like piss in a glass?

- Youngsters don't drink nowadays. - You telling me they're all sober?

No, they're all on the wakey-wakeys.

Got your bennies, your blues, your pep pills, purple hearts,

black beauties, dexys, pervs and your billies.

Not him, though. He's on heroin.

Here you are. On the house.

- Are you in need of speed, Horace? - (music ends)

- Nope. - (applause)

(Lauren) Oh, my gosh, is that...?

Nana. Oh, my gosh, she looks so young.

Why is she dancing with that ginge?

I don't know. I thought Granddad Aston was the only man she'd ever...

What the shitballs was that?

I don't know. It happened before. I think I'm hungover, Lauren.

Yeah. Yeah, probably.

Let's just get you some Red Bull

and a packet of pickled onion Monster Munch.

Come on.

Yeah, I'm actually in mourning,

and I think a quick smash would kick-start the grieving process.

- Yeah, go on, then. - Really? That was easy.

- You know I'm a prostitute, right? - Oh, is it?

(music ends, applause)

We're gonna take a little break now,

and then we've got a hot new quartet

syncopating for your aural pleasure.

- The One Ton Clam! - (applause)

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. I'm... I'm... We're playing.

This is actually happening.

(laughs)

Where's the toilet?

(vomits)

I'm about to play the Blue Flamingo.

This is, like, the best day ever...

(wails)

It's gonna be fine. It's gonna be fine.

I know this is a long shot, bruv, but you got a condom?

- No. - A bag for life and a rubber band?

What? No. And whatever you plan to do, do it quickly.

We've got the gig of our lives to play. Ugh.

Wait here.

I've gotta go get Nick.

(distorted voice) What's happening, please?

Why are you talking like...

Fucking holy... Fucking... Fuck me!

- Horace? - No. Martin.

- Who are your grandparents? - Funny question.

OK, so there's Nan and Pap on Mum's side

and on Dad's side there's Nana Myrtle and Grampy Len.

I'm actually one quarter black, so, you know, I get you.

Safe.

Len. Shit! Is Len white with red hair by any chance?

He actually describes it as strawberry blond, but yes.

Where am I?

Oh! Hey, hey. Hey.

Hey, excuse me, please.

Excuse me, please, thank you.

I don't know what you're doing, but that feels good, sugar fingers.

- I'm wanking you off. - Yeah.

Is it helping you forget about your dead lady friend?

It was till you reminded me.

Why have you gone all floppy?

I can't do this, man.

Dead or not, Victoria's bae for life.

Well, I still have to charge, whether you jizz off or not.

(Nick) How was I supposed to know Nana Myrtle was into white guys?

Please don't shank me!

- Look what you've done to Horace. - To Horace?

You let Nana Myrtle fall in love with the wrong man.

Oh, fuck.

What we gonna do? Who's gonna sing?

- Sing? - Oh, shit.

I can't breathe. I think I'm having a panic attack.

- Swallow. - What was that?

- Medicine. You'll be fine. - What's going on?

Horace has turned into a posh bloke called Martin

'cause his nana's doing a white dude called Len.

Cool. This could open so many doors for him.

Are you even listening? He's not Horace.

No, I'm Martin, I'm from Surrey and I work in marketing.

Horace doesn't exist because Martin does,

so we have to un-exist Martin to get Horace back.

Please don't hurt me. I've got a wife and two daughters.

Look. That's Daisy and that's Poppy.

We can't kill a man with a family.

Hello. He isn't real. Those kids are not real.

I assure you, they're very real

when they're jumping on your testicles at 5am,

demanding Nutella pancakes.

See? Martin isn't so bad. He could replace Horace in the band.

- Can you sing, Martin? - No.

Come on, everyone can sing. Try.

I'm not in the mood. You keep talking about killing my kids.

I am trying to save your life. Now, just bloody sing!

♪ He's got the whole world in his hands

♪ He's got the whole wide world...

What the fuck is that?

Will you stop talking about your stupid gig

and help me kill Martin and his children?

Shit it!

Help me, please. Some black people are trying to kill me.

Hello, hello. Here they come. Taking our jobs. Touching our women.

Sorry, is anyone else sweating and grinding their back teeth?

Someone's coming up.

This is fine, right? He's white. That's great.

No more police stop and search.

He can get bookings in fancy restaurants,

take pictures in low lighting.

It's all win, hey, Horace? Martin?

Hartin. I like him.

I'm not leaving Horace like this. Give him back. He's ours.

He don't look much like you.

Two words: fuck off and stay fucked off.

It's six words, but whatever.

That's it, Lauren.

- Yes! - Yes!

- Go on. - Go on.

Yes.

Yes! Yes!

Go on, Lauren, you got this.

Why unu English people can't leave we alone?

- What all dis? - Get off of me!

Jesus. Lord God, look how your nose a bleed.

You do it.

Name Aston by the way.

Myrtle.

- You owe me a new handbag. - Me owe you?

You see what you do to me nose?

- Me sorry. - All right, love. Get off of her.

Right, you. Have him! He ain't worth it!

Don't bloody touch me, you tit!

You're a cocky little toerag, in't ya?

How's about you like to make a little bit of easy money with them fists?

- How much are we talking? - Here's a little sweetener.

Myrtle? Come on, darling, let's go.

Oh, right. There you go, then.

I knew it'd work out.

(Nick) Martin?

Hello, hello. All right?

Hey, guys.

Horace, mate. Good to have you black.

Why isn't anyone else dancing?

- Oi! Are you playing or what? - Yeah. Yeah! Yeah!

♪ I'm kinda buzzed and it's all because

♪ This is how we do it

♪ South Central does it like nobody does

♪ This is how we do it

♪ To all my neighbours You got much flavour

♪ This is how we do it

♪ Let's flip the track Bring the old school back

♪ This is how we do it

♪ I'm kinda buzzed and it's all because

♪ This is how we do it

♪ South Central does it like nobody does

♪ This is how we do it

♪ YNV, SCC...

Victoria! Oh, my God.

Mmm.

De-lish. Do I know you?

Baby, it's me.

Guys, it's Victoria.

My sweet, sweet Creole cupcake.

Must have been 30 years.

Oh, but time has not been kind.

- Ready to go home? - What you talking about?

We're in the era of cool, smooth jazz.

Are we really gonna do this shit again?

I'm up for it. I've had such a great time so far.

Horace, you were erased from existence for, like, 17 minutes.

Yeah, but we're back together now, innit? Like old times.

It's amazing. We've just got a regular slot at the Blue Flamingo.

Yeah, and man's balls are about to burst,

so until me and Victoria beat, I ain't going nowhere.

Friends, lovers, let's blouse. Champagne and cocaine at mine, yes?

(cheering)

And by the way, you're paying, gorgeous ones, because I'm destitute.

It's all right. I'm loaded!

(cheering)

♪ This is how we do it

♪ South Central does it like nobody does

♪ This is how we do it

♪ To all my neighbours You got much flavour

♪ This is how we do it...