All language subtitles for all_in_good_faith_s02e02_manna_from_heaven

Ah, morning.

Who is he?

It's Philip Lamb, Mrs Freeman.

Who? Philip Lamb, vicar of all saints. I
said I'd call round, dear.

What about?

About your husband.

He's not here any more.

Yes, I know.

He passed out. over last Saturday.

That's why I'm here, dear, to discuss
the funeral.

The what?

Funeral.

Oh, the funeral.

I beg your pardon. I'm with you now.

Yes, well, it's on a bit of string.

Sorry, what is?

My legs, you see.

Your legs?

In the letterbox.

In the...

Oh, I see.

Ah. Who is it?

Still me, Mrs. Freeman.

Oh.

Call me Annie, will you? Yes, of course.
And if you want some tea, you can make

it yourself.

A what?

I said, if you want a cup of tea, dear.

You can make it yourself.

I don't want any, actually.

Well, then mind about that. I could do
with it.

Oh, well, I'll make you a cup, shall I?
A pot.

A pot, certainly.

It's very kind of you, Wicker. The
kitchen's directly beyond you.

Right.

He used to make a smashing cup of tea.

It's funny, the things you make.

What's that?

I said I wasn't sleeping so well lately.

And funny, when we were first married,
his snoring used to keep me awake.

Now I'm kept awake by his not snoring.

He always said I was a contrarial bag.

Kettle's on. It's in the china pit.

What? Mark Krispies.

What? Tea bags.

Oh, well, I was actually looking in the
tin marked tea.

Oh, no, that's where we keep the rent
books. So I discovered.

Well, you've certainly got a wonderful
view.

Yes, that's about all we have got.

My son used to say we was like angels up
here living in heaven and I wish to

hell I was out of here.

Well, I'm sure they'll be sympathetic if
you'd like to move.

Oh, yes, they'll be sympathetic. As
always, they're sympathetic.

My health worker.

Mrs Lovell, she's practically burst in
with sympathy.

Don't get us very far off notice.

Perhaps your son... Sidney. Perhaps
Sidney could be of help.

Who? Your son, Sidney.

My son's called Frank.

Then who's Sidney?

Now, Charlie, Sidney's a big city in
Australia.

Where my son Frank lives.

Ah.

That's why I can't help, you see.

No. Oh, I'll just make the tea. I won't
be a tick.

Well, don't rush, Vicar.

I'm not going out anywhere that I know
of.

Oh.

Oh, while I'm out here, shall I put some
food down for your cat?

What cat?

The tins of cat food in the cupboard.

Oh, blow.

Wish he'd never seen those.

Them tins was for Arthur, Mr Lamb. Oh,
shall I put some down for Arthur, then?

Arthur's gone, Mr Lamb.

Gone? Dead.

Oh, I'm so sorry. Did he pine away when
your husband died?

Who? Your cat.

What cat?

Then who was Arthur?

My husband.

Wasn't that what you come here about?

Yes, of course. I'm so sorry. Why did
your husband buy cat food?

Underfloor heating.

What? It was so bloomin' expensive that
when we paid the bills, we couldn't

go and bar meat at the butcher's, so we
had to get that instead.

But that's awful.

No, not the way he cooked it.

No, he made a smashing curry with that.

He's after Mr Lamb. Oh.

On his 84th birthday.

Beautiful man, isn't he?

Yeah. Hmm.

He'd have been 87 next year.

That's a good age.

Yeah. Well, that's what I kept telling
him, but he didn't want to go.

How long were you married?

63 years.

And we were as happy the last day

as we was on our first.

That's very unusual, Annie.

What's your secret?

I don't want to say.

Go on. No.

So, basically, Victor, I think it's
because we

always had a

Very lovely sex life.

Something wrong?

I'm just not hungry, that's all. Oh, no,
you've hardly touched it. Sorry. That's

not very fair.

What? Whenever we're not hungry, you
always say, you don't leave the table

you're finished. Your father stopped
growing, he doesn't have to eat.

It's just that I met someone today who
eats cat food because she can't afford

meat. Oh, how awful. Well, I feel so
guilty stuffing my face after that.

must be something I can do to help.

You mean you want to go round and give
her your mint?

No. She can have mine. Shut up.

I thought I could try and get her
rehoused.

We simply must do something to improve
the diet of old people in the parish.

Like what?

Well, I thought of asking Oscar to help.

Oscar? Yeah.

Oscar Randall? Yeah.

You're June... Well, he is head of the
parish council, and his supermarkets

make a fortune.

We never see much of it in the
collection plate, do we? No, when it

money, he's what my dad would call
canny. And what my dad would call

know you won't get a penny out of him.
Well, I'm going to see him tomorrow

ten o 'clock. You're wasting your time.

You must have faith, Emma. Faith will
move mountains.

Not if Oscar's got a supermarket on
them, it won't.

Thank you.

Oh!

What on earth are you doing, Oscar?

Thank you, Rachel.

Philip.

Only, you know, a quarter of a mile to
go won't take me long.

Provided I don't get a puncture.

Marvellous exercise, this.

Ever thought of buying one?

No, no, I prefer a real bike.

With wheels and everything?

Oh, yes.

You don't want to do that, Philip.

You'd wear out the carpet.

I mean to get me around.

Oh, you wouldn't get me in traffic on a
real bike.

No, not when I give driving licences to
idiots like my wife.

Well, I always think exercise bikes are
a bit boring. Yes, they are.

But then most things that are good for
you are boring.

Your sermons, for instance.

What? Only joking, Philip. Only joking.
Do sit down.

Now, what can I do for you, my good man?
Well, I just wondered if you'd read the

Archbishop's report yet.

Ah.

The Marxist tract.

It mentions Marx once on page 51, and
there are over 400 pages there. You

try reading it all before making
judgments.

Have you?

What? Have you tried reading it all?

Oh, yes.

All 400 pages?

Well, no.

But I have tried reading it all, enough
to realise that elderly people need

special attention.

And the trouble is, most of them are too
proud to accept charity. So I thought I

might open a shop.

And give up the church. Good idea. No.

I thought I might try selling garden
produce and tin food in the church

say, once a week, at prices that even
the really poor could afford.

Philip, why are you telling me all this?

Well, Oscar, since you're such a
disgustingly successful money -grubbing

capitalist, I was hoping to squeeze the
odd tin of beans out of you.

After all, you did have record profits
last year, didn't you?

By selling the odd tin of beans, yes,
not by giving them away.

We wouldn't affect your business, none
of your supermarkets, anywhere near the

church at all. Small shops, you know
that.

Anyway, just read the report. All the
facts are there. There are elderly

in this parish having to eat cat food
because they can't afford meat.

Cat food? Yes.

What brand?

What?

Do you remember what brand it was?

Oh, no. Why do you ask?

Marjorie gives our cat moggy munch.
Smells wonderful.

Much better than the muck she dumps on
my plate.

Well, Philip, that's all right.

It's a deal.

What is?

I'll check with my managers after lunch,
and then I'll send round a selection of

any surpluses we have in stock.

I knew you'd come through, Oscar. Emma
said you wouldn't.

Wouldn't what?

Wouldn't let me down.

And you certainly haven't. You'll put up
a big sign.

Donated by Randolph Supermarkets.

No, no, Philip, don't do that.

I want this to be totally anonymous.

There are no strings. You can do with it
what you will.

Only don't mention my name.

Well, that's immensely generous of you,
Oscar. Are you sure there are no

conditions? Well, on reflection, there
is just one.

What's that?

Don't make me read this damn report.

Is that all we've got to sell?

Yep.

Pound of sugar, packet of biscuits, tin
of sardines.

And a baby marrow.

Well, these things take time to grow.

A scheme.

It'll look a lot healthier when Oscar's
contribution arrives.

If it arrives.

You're sure I wasn't just saying that to
get rid of you? He definitely promised

me the odd tin of beans.

Knowing Oscar, that's probably all we'll
get. One odd, possibly very odd tin of

beans. I'll leave her that funeral now.

Are you sure that's all we've got to
sell?

So far, yes.

What do you think?

You're right.

It's absolutely pathetic.

Oh, thanks, Church.

Yes. I've got delivery for you in the
van from Randolph's. Oh, fine.

There you are, you see. He wouldn't send
a van just for one tin of beans.

Perhaps it's two tins of beans.

Ah.

You want to give me a hand with the
unloading? Yes, of course. Which is for

All of it.

All of it? Yeah.

You mean the entire content?

That's right.

Emma. What?

I think we're going to need another
table.

Come on.

putting you in our smallest chapel means
that you're virtually responsible for

running the entire operation.

Yes, of course.

Don't panic, Mr Lamb.

At the base of the lectern here, you
will see a small foot pedal at the

appropriate moment in the service.

Put your foot on that, and the deceased
will descend with

dignity into the plinth.

Quiet.

After the mourners have departed,

we remove the deceased from the plinth
and convey it to the

final station.

Quite. If we had time, I would give you
the grand tour, but unfortunately this

weekend we are working with a skeleton
staff.

Good morning, Victor, dear.

Well, you know, I've chosen a rotten
morning for it. You certainly have,

Here we come. Can you marry? Yes.

Lovely.

Lovely.

Not far. It's not far to walk.

There we are. Just over there, dear.

Oh, Vicky.

Thank you.

do at all i'm afraid not mr lamb there's
a three -year waiting list for

sheltered homes in no way can we get any
in sooner unless of course you can pull

a few strings i'm not really good at
pulling strings with his level or

pedals for that matter thank you for
saying

such nice things about my after that's
all right any idea i'm sorry about the

mishap Oh, what that was you for, was
it, Vicar, dear?

I told you, he didn't want to go.

Emma, Emma.

How'd the funeral go?

Well, it had its ups and downs.

What's all this stuff doing here? Why
aren't you at the church flogging it?

about it, the shop got round sooner than
I thought, especially to owners of

other little shops.

What? They've threatened us with court
action unless we cease trading

immediately. But we're a charity
venture.

That's what I told them, but they said
charity begins at home and lugged all

these boxes back here.

In fact, there's a deputation from the
Small Shopkeepers Association waiting

you in the office.

Why? Apparently Oscar's been trying to
close them down for ages, so if our

shop's a success, could be the last
straw. What possible reason could Oscar

for closing them down?

Because he's a mean, scheming, devious
rat.

Shame on you, Emma. Shame.

Oscar gave us this stuff out of the
goodness of his heart.

Oh, yeah?

All right, you go and talk to those
shopkeepers, then. I intend to. And if

wrong, I'll eat my hat.

And if I'm wrong, I'll eat my dog
collar.

Oh, good afternoon. I'm sorry to keep
you all waiting.

Not to worry.

It has given us all a chance to cool
down.

Not me, it hasn't.

I'm still shivering.

This is Mr. Harris, the newsagent. How
do you... You know, Randolph actually

accused me of stalking pornography.

Let me complete the introduction, Mr.
Harris. Anything to drive us out of

business. Mrs.

McGarry, the fishmonger.

Mr. Hartnell, the greengrocer. And my
good self, Ranji Gopal, owner of Gopal's

dairy, post office, and video rental.

Very nice to meet you.

I'd just like to set the record
straight. When Mr. Randolph gave us that

he had no ulterior motive.

No ulterior motive? You don't know him
like we do.

I think I probably know him better. I
know him as one of my parishioners.

Compliment. That kind of talk is not
helpful, Mr. Harris.

You're an unwitting prawn, Mr. Lamb.

I think the word is pawn, Mr. Hartman.

See what?

Prawns is what I sell, pawns what he
sells. I do not sell pawns! Look,

how could our little shop possibly
affect you?

It could be the final straw on the
already much weakened back of the camels

see in front of you. But why should Mr.

Randolph want you out? He hasn't even
got a supermarket in the parish.

It's not for the want of trying.

He's got a four -acre site over by
Clement Edley Crescent.

What? We got him refused planning
permission because he threatened our

livelihood. And if I driven out, he will
have his fifth supermarket erected

within a year. He's got more twist than
a corpster. I'll break yours.

Now, perhaps you can understand why we
are quite so suspicious of Mr.

noble gesture.

Will you excuse me for a moment?

Yes, of course.

Emma? Yes?

I'll have it boiled.

I'll just pick up. Oh, right.

Cheers.

Oh, sorry.

Thanks a lot. You're welcome.

God bless you, my son.

Oh, thank you very much.

I've got you some groceries, love.

Annie?

Annie, are you all right?

I've been done over.

What? A couple of lads just bust in here
and waltzed off with my telly. Oh, no,

they didn't touch you, did they?

Oh, no, they were most polite.

Hello, Gran.

I said you can stuff that for a start.

I said, what do you want?

Of course, the blackhead, he piped up,
we want your telly. OK, I said, there it

is. What are you waiting for? So they
unplugged the lot and waltzed off with

I wonder you didn't see them.

I did more than that, Annie. I held the
doors open, but they lugged it into the

lift.

Don't look so worried, Vicar.

This is a sick... Some are being done
over, but this time, the joke really is

them. Why?

Well, that old goggle box is dead as a
doormat.

The fuse bust, last Christmas, right in
the middle of the...

The Queen's speech!

Gleeful!

Will you please eat your breakfast in a
civilised manner?

I haven't time, Mum. I'm doing my make
-up. You should spend more time feeding

your face and less time plastering it.

Oh, Peter, get that, will you?

This is marvellous news.

What? It's from Mrs Lovell, Annie
Freeman's health visitor. What about?

They're moving her to sheltered housing
at the end of the month.

Because of the break -in? More or less.
Well, she thought it was a great joke,

but I didn't tell the council that. I
see your point. She gets a new home and

the thugs get a Dutch deli.

God works in mysterious ways.

Yes, he does, Miranda, and you've got
milk all over your chin.

It's Mr. Randolph, Dad. He's in your
study. Ah, I knew he'd turn up before

Want me to come with you?

What for?

I could hold the coats.

Hello, Oscar.

Yep.

What's the stick for?

Oh, a slight sprain, that's all.

I don't suppose you'd like to buy an
exercise bicycle, would you?

No, thank you. I didn't think you would.

What can I do for you?

Oh, I think we both know why I'm here.

My spies tell me...

That instead of selling the goods I
donated, you are in fact selling stocks

supplied by local shopkeepers.

The Association of Small Shopkeepers,
yes. I didn't think they could afford to

be so generous.

I'll bet you didn't. Which begs the
question, what happened to my goodies?

Oh, they were sold the day they arrived.
I did say how grateful you were, didn't

I? Yes, you did.

But you didn't say how you disposed of
£2 ,000 worth of groceries in a single

day. Oh, that was very simple, Oscar.

I sold them to your competitors.

What? Oh, sorry. Not competitive,
because, of course, you have no

interest in this area, have you?

You sold them to the association.

We simply didn't have room for all those
boxes. It really was extremely generous

of you, Oscar. Never mind that, Philip.

What was the deal?

Well, the association of shopkeepers
took your goodies and sold them on their

own premises.

In return, they supplied the church shop
with fresh vegetables, fish and meat,

which I'm sure you'll agree is a much
healthier diet for the old folk. Well,

did say there were no strings attached,
didn't you?

You realize what you've done, don't you?

Outfoxed you?

Something like that, yes.

So everyone gets something out of the
deal except me.

Absolutely not. When Annie, that old
lady I told you about, heard what you'd

done for the old people, she was so
grateful she insisted on giving you a

present. I'm sorry I haven't had time to
wrap it up yet, but I do know it's your

favorite label. Not a bottle of my
favorite 12 -year -old whiskey, is it?

quite.