All language subtitles for Only Fools and Horses (1981) - S00E20 - Sleepless in Peckham (576p DVD x265 Panda)_track3_[eng]-eng

# Stick a pony in me pocket

# I'll fetch the suitcase from the van

# 'Cause if you want the best 'uns
but you don't ask questions

# Then, brother, I'm your man

# 'Cause where it all comes from is a mystery

# It's like the changing of the seasons
and the tides of the sea

# But here's the one what's driving me berserk

# Why do only fools and horses work? #

You'd better get ready for school, Damien.

- I am ready.
— Oh, right.

- All right, Dad?
— Ooh.

— Was that a contraction?
— No. Indigestion.

It was that bacon burger I had for breakfast.

You never used to eat bacon or burgers.

I'm craving bacon now.
Bacon and Rolos — together.

When I was having Damien,
I had a craving for tuna.

Tuna for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

It was horrible. Saying goodnight to her
was like kissing Japan.

- Shut up!
— How's it gonna be when I go into labour?

Some women just sail through.

I remember when Mum
was giving birth to Rodney,

she said it was the worst experience of her life.

That doesn't mean
Cassandra will have a bad time.

No...I see what you mean. No.

- You should have a nice easy birth.
- Why?

Well, look at you. You and Rodney
are both very skin...slim, aren't you?

So the chances of you having
a very skinny...slimmy baby are very high.

You won't have to push so hard.

Your little sprog will come shooting out like that.

— Del, please!
— Sometimes you overstep the mark.

No. Cassandra won't need a midwife
in the delivery room.

What she will need is a goalkeeper.
"Here it comes!"

— Come on. You'll be late.
— Ready for school, son?

- Sunglasses, Walkman, mobile phone?
— Yeah. Don't fuzz me, man.

- Off you go.
- I think I'lL have a lie—down.

Up we get.

I don't know if Cassandra feels up to it,

but she was planning to spend the day
at her parents' house.

- I thought I might go with her.
— Yeah. We'll meet you down the pub later.

I'll get a bacon sandwich and a packet
of Werther's Original for Cassandra.

— Do you think she's all right?
— She's fine.

She's had buckets of pork and toffee.
She's bound to feel a bit gippy.

Yeah, you're right. We'd better do something.

- I thought we'd go down Ronnie Nelson's...
— No, not today, Rodney.

— Del, Rodney is the managing director.
— Yes. I'm in charge.

I know. I'm going to put some flowers
on Mum's grave.

- I'll come with you.
- No.

Stay here and look after Cassandra.

Yeah. If she feels better,
I'll go down Ronnie's place.

No. If she bucks up,

take her and Raquel over to her mum's
and stay with them in case of car—jacking.

On your Capri Ghia? Yeah, right.

- Oi!
—- What?

— What's the matter with him?
- You never let him do things on his own.

I can't let Rodney go out on business.
He'd come back with a bag of magic beans.

— And you're so successful, aren't you?
— Don't start.

— This situation...
— What situation?

You being made bankrupt,
owing the Inland Revenue £53,000

and the Official Receiver threatening to evict us.

— That.
- Yes. And those letters from the solicitors.

— Have you phoned them yet?
- No. I've been busy.

— Have you told Rodney?
— No. He's got enough to worry about.

Ill tell him when the moment's right.
Can I borrow these?

— Have you told Raquel yet?
— Told her what?

That they're auctioning this flat in a month.

No. I'll tell her when the moment's right.

— Del...
— No. See you, Rodney.

Are you all right, Mum?

I've come to give you a bit of a scrub—up.

How do you like your new obelisk?

The other one, your old one, was OK,
but it wasn't quite you,

so when me and Rodders became millionaires,
we got you this new one.

Best one in the yard, this.
This is the Ferrari of shrines.

Anyway...

Cassandra... She'll be giving birth soon.

Another grandchild in the family.

I said to them, if it's a girl,
would they name her after you?

Joan.

I'm sorry I haven't been down for a long time,
but I've had one or two problems.

What with the bankruptcy and all of that.

Then I received this letter
from the Official Receiver,

says they want to auction the old flat.

The lads have been good.

They've all been trying
to think of ways for me to make money.

— You gotta invent something.
— Invent something?

All inventors are rich.

What's the name of that bloke
who invented the Dyson vacuum cleaner?

Dyson.

Millionaire. What about that bloke
who invented the biro?

- Bic?
— Millionaire.

I know, Trig. I've thought of that,
but everything's been invented.

Not everything. Picture this.

You're on a crowded bus,
you get an itch in your back.

No matter how hard you try,
you can't reach it. What do you do?

Ask one of the other passengers to scratch it.

- Yeah.
— No, you can't do that, Dave.

No. I was just having a laugh.

I tried that once
and it caused nothing but trouble.

Now... What's this?

— Chopstick.
— Correct.

With this you can reach down and hit the spot.

That's very good, Trig. Not quite
up to Bill Gates' standard, but it is brilliant.

I don't want to disappoint you,
and the Chinese have always been inventive,

but we created something years ago
that beat them to the punch — a backscratcher.

But they're big long things, Dave.
You can't carry one in your pocket.

People will look.

Yes, but you've got to have something long
to get it right down where the itch is.

— That thing's too short.
— So what's the answer?

Another drink?

No.

Two chopsticks.

I'm gonna fit a little hinge on the end...

..50 you can open it out,

scratch away, fold it down again...
and put it back in your pocket.

And you can use it for pointing at things.

That's brilliant, innit? No more fingers.

This is just a specimen.
I'm going back to my flat to work on it.

When I take the patent out,
I'm gonna put it in your name.

Thanks, Trig. See you on "Tomorrow's World".

Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong.

Seems like nothing's gonna change my bad luck.

Raquel says we ought to try feng shui.

I said to her,
"What good is eating raw fish gonna do?"

And I'm getting all these letters
from my solicitor demanding a meeting.

If I don't get over 50 grand in four weeks' time,

I'll be kipping on that bench over there.

Least I'll be keeping you company.

If there's anything that you can do —
you know, while you're up there,

like a word in the right ear —
I'd be ever so grateful.

Anyway, I'd better buzz off. See you soon, Mum.

Bonjour.

- What you doing?
— I'm writing a screenplay for a movie.

Oh. Where is everyone?

Your dad's at the cemetery.
Cassandra's at her parents' place with your mum.

— Is it a silent film?
— No, it's not a silent film.

- You might be able to help me.
- What do you want me to do?

Bugger off and leave me alone.

- All right, Dad?
— Yeah. All right, son.

Postman's given me a letter
from the Official Receiver.

— I suppose it's about this flat.
— It ain't a Christmas card.

— Been busy?
—= Yes.

— What's wrong, Dad? You look worried.
— I am worried, son.

Oh, dear. I don't know. I haven't slept for ages.

I feel so stressed out,
Yehudi Menuhin could play a symphony on me!

— I'm gonna go and play football.
- All right.

Don't forget what I said about dirty tackling.

- Yeah. Be first.
— Good boy.

How's that creative writing course of yours?

— Fine.
— Good. "Cause I worry about you.

Even though I've got bankruptcy
looming over me, and my eminent eviction,

I lie awake at night worrying.

I say to myself, "Is Rodney
getting his commas in the right place?"

What's up with you?

I'll tell you. Here I am, halfway down the gurgler
with only my head above the water,

and you're poncing around on your wife's laptop,
wasting money on some course.

I'm not wasting money.
I'm investing in our future.

What future?
We've got all the prospects of a Toilet Duck!

I'm trying to get us out of this situation
by earning some serious money.

Have you any idea how much you can earn
by writing a book or a film?

— I bet you've never heard of JK Rowling.
— As a matter of fact, I have.

He's one of my favourites.

No... Yeah, right.

JK Rowling wrote all the Harry Potter books
and has earned over £70 million.

70 million?! That would do us, wouldn't it?

- It could get us over the worst.
— Go on, then.

— What?
— Write one.

I can't write a Harry Potter book. It's copyrighted.

Don't worry about that. Just change a bit.
No one will notice. Call it Harry Trotter.

- No.
— Will you shut up, you tart?

All you need is a couple of wizards

and some little git with John Lennon glasses,
and then we're off.

I can't write all that magic stuff.

I'm more Michael Crichton and Thomas Harris.
He wrote "Silence Of The Lambs".

Oh, yeah? Hannibal the Cannonball?

No, it's can... Yeah.

— Well, he's earned over $100 million.
- 100 million?

I know it's all big talk —
70 million here, 100 million there.

You're entitled to talk big
once you've been a millionaire like what we have.

You know what this is, don't you?

Every time I go down
and have a little talk to Mum,

something turns up to save us.

This is it. This is a sign. This is Mum's doing.

Come on, Rodney.
We're gonna come up with a film idea.

Yeah.

So I rang Mike in prison
and we decided to turn this into a theme pub.

— Good.
— We decided on 1930s, pre—war London.

It's turned out well.

I ain't started yet.

— It's still at the consultation stage.
— Let us know when it's finished.

Raquel. Cassandra. What are you drinking?

- Vodka and tonic, please, Trig.
— An orange juice, please.

— Del and Rodney here?
— I ain't seen 'em.

— Tell Del the prototype has hit a snag.
- Right.

— Me paraffin heater melted the chopsticks.
—- OK.

I might have to go to a Chinese shop.
He'll understand.

— What are they doing?
- who?

These people that landed
on an uninhabited desert island in the Specific.

— Right. They're scientists.
- Right.

They've been sent there
because of strange goings-on.

— Like people getting killed?
— Yeah. Disappearing strangely.

Right. This idea's getting betterer and betterer.

So they land in a jumbo jet flown by...
I'm thinking Mel Gibson.

Mel Gibson? Yeah!

— He ain't got all that paint over his face?
— No, no.

— He's the leading scientist.
- Right. OK.

— What's he doing flying the plane, then?
- I dunno.

We could say that in the past
he was a pilot for...

Monarch.

No. Something exciting. NASA.

NASA! Yes, sir! NASA.

So Mel and his assistant...
I was thinking Julia Roberts.

Julia Roberts. Now you're talking like a mogul.

So whilst they're out there doing
all their scientific research and all that stuff,

something in the jungle is watching them.

— The monster.
— Except it's not really a monster.

What they don't know is on this island
are a forgotten tribe of Neanderthals.

Cor blimey. Well, you need that, don't ya?

Old Mel's got his work cut out.

Doing all his research and trying to sort Julia out.

So there's all these cavemen...

Yeah. And women.
The women. You know what I mean?

'Cause serious filmgoers, they like a bit of that.

I was thinking about...Liz Hurley and Jordan.

— We'll talk about it.
— And they're killer cavemen.

- Yes!
— This is gonna be a blockbuster.

It's called "The Island Of Death".

we'll talk about that as well.

Did you get the baby blues
after Damien was born?

— I had my moments, but not too bad.
— I didn't get depressed after I had Tyler.

I was private. The doctors and the drugs
are better than on the NHS.

I didn't get post-natal depression, did 1?

How would I know? You've been
screaming and crying all your life.

Only since I married you!

It's our anniversary soon. 34 years.

They dig up fossils younger than that.

Put a bit of make-up on 'em
and I might fancy them more than you.

Mind you, she has her uses.

If I have to draw a straight line
and can't find a ruler, I just use her chest.

That is one 'orrible git.

But he has got his nice side.

Last month he took out
a massive life insurance on me.

— Shows he cares.
— Come on, Marlene.

Let's go home and ignore each other.

Right. Where are they now?
At the end of the runway.

Yeah. Just getting ready to take off

when suddenly a big bird
gets sucked into one of the engines.

Yes! I can see that, Rodney. That is drama.

— Yeah.
— I feel an Oscar coming on here.

Who do you see playing the big bird?

— Eh?
— Roseanne Barr. She ain't small.

No. When I say big bird...

If you got Roseanne Barr
stuck in your engine, you'd know.

No, no. I'm talking about an eagle or a coroment.

A cornament... An eagle.

Oh, right. I see.

Ah! No, no... Got it, Rodney.

This is it. Listen to this. Mel... Right?

— His assistant is played by Roseanne Barr.
— I don't want Roseanne Barr.

But when Mel pulls her out of the engine,
she's in a right mess.

Del...

No, listen. This is when we find out
that not only is Mel a pilot

and a science researchist,
but he's also a plastic surgeon.

- No.
— And he's got his plastic surgeon tools.

— So he operates on her.
— I don't want him operating on her.

And then he turns her into Julia Roberts, right?

When she sees what he's done, she says,
"Bloody hell, Mel! Help yourself."

And that is your romance.

I'm not having Roseanne Barr's legs
sticking out of one end of an engine

and Julia Roberts' head
sticking out of the other end.

— Are you certain he said they'd meet us?
- I'm positive.

- Oh, my God.
— Oh, no.

Why do they do things like this?

As I've said to you before,
women are from Venus, men are from Peckham.

— Let me carry that coffee.
— Get off me, Rodney!

I know you're an attentive man,
but you're getting on my bloody nerves.

— Hormones, eh?
— Yeah. I'm glad I ain't got none.

It's an answering machine.

Hello. Denzil, this is Delboy.

I haven't been able to get hold of you.

I just wanted to let you know
I had a job for you worth 500 quid.

I've had to let it go to someone else now.

So I just wanted to let you know
what a half—head I think you are. Bonjour!

- You'll never guess.
—- What?

I've been talking to that woman
who cleans for Boycie and Marlene.

She says she hasn't seen Marlene
for eight days now.

— What do you think's happened?
— I dunno. Strange, though.

I can't understand
how they weren't divorced years ago.

Marlene will never divorce Boycie.
She hates him too much.

You shouldn't laugh.
Marital break—ups can be very damaging.

I did some work for the Samaritans.

- On the phones?
- Yeah.

Yes. Very successful he was, too.
No one ever phoned back.

Del, have you seen Marlene recently?

No. I bumped into Boycie.
He said she'd gone away.

— Maybe he's murdered her!
— Keep your nose out of this.

— Do you think she's left him?
— They were having a row. It got nasty.

He accused her of being flat—chested.

— They're always having rows.
- You haven't seen Denzil either.

Maybe they've run off together.

Hark at him.

Marlene has run off with Den...zilL

Jane, half a lager and Del's usual.

Poison in the dining room.

— Candlestick in the bedroom.
- You playing Cluedo?

No. It's called "Whatever happened to Marlene?"
It's been ten days now.

I reckon she's either run off with another bloke
or Boycie's killed her.

Or she's spending the week at her sister's.

Her sister's? You and your imagination, Rodney.

Do you remember
the old Jolly Boys' outings we went on?

— The beanos to Margate? They were great.
— We ain't had one in years.

No. After the last one
the coach firms wouldn't do business with us.

But I was going through some old boxes
and I found this.

It's the first Jolly Boys' outing. July 1960.

There's Del, about 15.
There's Trigger. Boycie. Denzil.

- What a bunch of mongs.
— Bloody 'ell. They look stupid.

That was the fashion. There's your dad — Reg.

— Oh, yeah.
— There's your grandfather. There's me.

Blimey, Sid. You looked like an old git
even in them days.

Yeah. I haven't really aged.

See you later. I gotta get something to eat.

— We do food here.
- I know. I've tried it.

Fair enough.

Sid, can I borrow this to get a copy made?
I'm gonna embarrass Del with it.

— I want it back, though.
- Yeah. 'Course.

— There you go.
- Ta.

— What are you smirking at?
— Nothing. You all right, Trig?

Nothing to report. Waiting for the glue to dry.

Mum's the word.

I hope you're around on Saturday night.
It's a special evening.

The brewery given us a new guvnor?

No. Somebody's booked the pub for a do
and it's the first of my tribute nights.

I've got a couple of singers from Newcastle.
They call themselves "Lordy Geordie".

They do a tribute to Robson and Jerome.

why?

I didn't ask.

The first act on is a David Bowie tribute.
A carpenter.

Calls himself Ziggy Sawdust.

Make a note of that, Rodney. I can't miss this.

Yeah. Sounds good, doesn't it?

— I've got a good idea for one of our films.
— What's that?

You know, Denzil and Marlene
running off together.

These two people
who've known each other since their teens

and hid their passion for each other,

and when they reach middle age,
they can't contain it no longer,

so they rush into each other's arms.

- This is Denzil and Marlene.
— We'll get someone nice, though.

I can't do romance.
I'm more into science fiction.

Yeah. I like all that as well, Dave.

I mean, you think about space.
It's everywhere, innit?

You're right. You can't move for it.

I read something frightening.

Scientists have discovered
this gigantic black hole on the edge of our galaxy,

and if our planet continues
on its ever—widening orbit,

we'll be sucked into it and destroyed.

I'll make sure I'm out that day.

So when's this going to happen?

They can't be too specific. They can't say
Saturday 12th March at half past three.

No, but they can give us an idea,
give or take a fortnight.

well, roughly...

within two to three hundred million years.

We got time for a quick one, then?

So what are they gonna do about it?

— What are who gonna do about it?
— The government.

Well, there's nothing... Send McAlpine's up
with a spaceship full of bricks.

They'll need more than one.

Del, I know you don't believe
in this UFO rubbish,

but I've been sitting here looking at the sky

and I suddenly noticed a star.

It's night, Trig. It happens.

Yeah, but this star suddenly disappeared
and then it came back again...

and then it disappeared
and then it came back again.

And then it disappeared...
and then it came back again.

Do you think that's a close encounter?

No. It's called blinking.

— It's done it again, look.
- No. Missed it.

There it goes!

It's amazing, innit?

Dear God.

(PHONE RINGS)

Trotters Independent Traders.

Yeah? Thank you. We'll be right down.

It's the manager of the Sopranos Pizza Parlour.
we've found Denzil.

Denzil, me old mate.

All right, Del?
All right, fellas. How's it going?

Yes. Fine.
We were worried about you, me old mate.

— Don't worry about me. I was just off...
- No, you sit down.

Let's have a little chinwag, eh?

Is there anything you'd like to tell us?

We promise we won't be judgmental.
These things happen.

- Who told you?
— Del worked it out.

Yeah. Once Marlene went missing and so did you,

you didn't have to be Jeremy Paxton
to work out you'd run off together.

Run off with Marlene?
Have you gone mad or what?

— Where've you been, then?
- In hospital.

Hospital? Was there something wrong with you?

— Of course there was something wrong.
—- What?

I don't want to talk about it, Del.
It's been with me for quite a while.

I didn't say anything to you because...
I didn't want to admit it to myself.

Finally, the doctor said
I'd got to have the operation or...

or what?

Trigger, you don't need to ask that question.

— If he says "or", you know what he means.
—- What?

I've had the operation and I'm feeling better.

The specialist said it could always return.
I've just gotta live in hope.

Let's get a drink. Four beers, please, over here.

I didn't spot you lot lurking over here.
How's it all going?

All right.

You and me have got a mutual friend.
That young nurse — Jolene.

I took her out.
She told me all about your case.

I don't believe this.
It's supposed to be confidential.

She'd had a couple of drinks.
I don't envy you at all, Denzil.

My old granddad suffered with piles.

— Piles?
— You've had piles?

Us worried sick about you and all you'd got
was a touch of the Farmer Giles!

Not piles, Derek — super—piles.

All this fuss over a few haemorrhoids.

Haemorrhoids? They were more like asteroids.

Surgeon said it was keyhole surgery.

Didn't say it was the keyhole
to the Tower of soddin' London!

— You wanna see what he's done to me.
- No. I'll just take your word for it.

So what's this about Marlene?

— Nobody's seen her for a week.
— We thought she was having an affair.

Funny you should say that.

I was in town two weeks ago
and I saw Marlene with a fella.

All dressed up — low-cut blouse,
high heels, full make-up, the lot.

What does she see in a bloke like that?

No, not the... He's talking about Marlene!

— You are talking about her, aren't you?
- Yeah.

So maybe Boycie found out
Marlene was having an affair.

And then he took out
a very large life insurance policy on her.

Hello, Boycie. Thought we'd pop in.

You must appreciate I'm a very busy man,
so what can I do for you?

- A cup of tea wouldn't go amiss.
— How's Marlene these days?

— She's fine.
— It's just we haven't seen her around lately.

No. That's because she's been away.

I'll put the kettle on.

— He's done her in.
— You don't know that.

— What other explanation is there?
— Staying with friends?

Don't be stupid. Who the hell's gonna have
Marlene in their house for a week?

You be observant. This could make a nice film.

We've got to be careful about what we say.

We could be making a terrible mistake
and cause a lot of pain and distress.

You're right. Subtlety is the order of the day.

Absolutely.

- Well?
— Right. well, Boycie...

I hope you won't take offence
by what I'm about to say, but...

we think you've murdered Marlene
and buried her in the garden.

Beautiful, Derek.

How dare you? Murdered my wife
and buried her in the garden?

I've never been so insulted!

You know how much I've spent on that garden.

Yeah. I never thought of that.
So what have you done with her, then?

I have done nothing with her. She's upstairs.

She's upstairs. What else is there to say?

Dead or alive might help.

Marlene and I will be down the pub tonight.
Then you'll have proof, Inspector.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have business to attend to.

See you later, Marlene.

She's probably asleep.

Oh, yeah. Right.

See you later, Marlene!

She's a deep sleeper.

She's dead to the world.

See you tonight, Boycie.

Bonjour.

# This is Ground Control to Major Tom

# You've really made the grade

# And the papers want to know
whose shirts you wear

# Now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare

# This is Major Tom to Ground Control

# I'm stepping through the door

# And I'm floating in a most peculiar way... #

— What's all this, Sid?
- It's like that Spanish place in Fulham.

That's tapas. This is...

— Well, it's not good, is it?
— It's English tapas.

Does Mike know you're doing this?
I know he's inside, but it's still his pub.

He said, "Treat the pub as if it were your own."

That's just a figure of speech.
If you stay at someone's house, they say that.

Doesn't mean you build a through lounge.

- There it is. Take it or leave it.
— Thank God. We've got a choice.

— Do you think Boycie will turn up?
- No. He'll be halfway across Europe now.

Yeah. Grab the insurance money and run.

Good evening.

I know what you've been saying about me,
so I am here to prove you wrong.

Would you all please greet my wife Marlene?

Good evening, everyone.

— Sorry about your hair, Marlene.
— This cost me a bloody fortune up west.

You look like Brian May in a spin dryer.

— Tell him!
— Ignore him.

If I may, my dear?

Entente cordiale!

— Got a feeling this is gonna cause trouble.
— She'll have someone's eye out.

(THEY SING "UNCHAINED MELODY")

So that's where she's been —
up town getting a boob job.

She has not had a boob job.

— Leave it out. You brought a firm in.
— I have not brought a firm in.

I'lL call Twickenham,
see if they've got any balls missing.

She has not had a boob job.
That's all natural.

— She never used to have boobs that big.
— How the bloody hell do you know?

- You told me.
— Oh, yeah.

We got a dress designer in
who made the most of what was available.

And who was the bloke
she was seen up town with the other week?

That bloke? That bloke was...

That bloke was er...

— All right. That was her plastic surgeon.
— Aha! Now it comes out, eh?

- I thought it'd bring us closer together.
- It'll have the opposite effect!

I hope not. It was four grand a boob!

How much did that cost you, then?

About eight grand, Trig.

Blimey!

Must be horrible going round
with a couple of big boobies.

Raquel and I are used to it!

— Are they laughing at me?
- No. They're just having a good time.

we'll see about that.

Raquel, I'm so glad
you wore that dress again.

It's always been one of my favourites.

That reminds me, Boyce,
we've got to collect the curtains.

Listen! And her looking like
one of those women you put over toilet rolls.

— Did you hear what she said?
—= Yes.

Be fair, Raquel.
Marlene's made a big effort this evening.

You can see a struggle's taken place.

— She's been in that bedroom for hours.
- Shut up!

I'm just trying to defend your honour.

Trying to defend Marlene's honour?
What have you got in the shed? A time machine?

You're just jealous because I can afford
surgery for my 40th birthday.

When I met you you were pushing 40.
For the last few years you've been towing it!

Right, that's it!
Raquel, get out of the pub. You're barred.

— What are you talking about, Sid?
- Eh?

— No. Marlene, get out. You're barred.
— I beg your pardon?!

Get off home and take your foster tits with you.

— Did you hear what he just said?!
—= Yes.

How dare you?

— we'll finish our drinks and...
— You'll get out now.

- Right.
— Come along, Marlene.

I've never been so insulted in my life.

Sid, far be it for me to interfere,
but you're taking this a bit too seriously.

— You're like Mussolini in a Harvester.
- I'm running this pub now.

You shouldn't have banned Boycie and Marlene.

— And why is that?
— Because it's their anniversary do.

Excuse me! I am paying for all this.

Right. Drinks all round.

Raquel, where are you?

You rotten, lying, devious, cheating man!

— Have I upset you?
— I found that letter from the Official Receiver.

Oh, right. Yeah.
I've come home to talk about that...

You lied to me and to Rodney
about those letters.

What letters?

All right. These letters.

"Cartwright, Cartwright & Cartwright,
Solicitors of Law." There's ten letters.

— It looks worse than it is.
— Because half of them are Rodney's.

You've been hiding
my personal correspondence?

I just wanted to take the pressure off you
because of Cassandra and the baby.

And you didn't tell me
the flat was being auctioned.

You had all that ironing.

It's been one bit of bad news after the other.
I was trying to protect you all.

You're a control freak.
To you other people don't matter.

— That is not true, sweetheart.
— You just step over them.

And what do they do in return?
They love you so much they all try to help you.

They all try to help me?
You wanted me to ask Boycie for a loan.

That's the same as joining the Moonies.

Rodney's trying to write
"Freddie Krueger And The Chocolate Factory"

and Trigger's scratching his arse
with a chopstick!

These people are supposed to help me?

You ungrateful sod.

At least I didn't suggest
forming a Hollywood film company.

You're gonna wish you'd never said that.

— Just bringing up a pertinent point.
- No. That's like bringing up a furball.

You were going to form a film company?

You see? Not me, him. Rodney.

He wanted to make this film
about an uninhabited island

with cavemen living on it.

— How's it uninhabited, then?
- I don't know.

- Then this jumbo jet lands.
- A jumbo jet? Where's the runway?

— Well...I don't know.
— What's all this noise?

You've got to hear the latest from these morons.

They're going to make a Hollywood film.

What was it? They land on
an uninhabited island in a jumbo jet.

- Who do?
— Mel Gibson and Julia Roberts.

— He wanted Julia Roberts.
— He wanted Liz Hurley and Jordan.

How can you land a jumbo jet
on an uninhabited island? Where's the runway?

Yeah. I dunno. Ask him here. Cecil B Demented.

- I don't know.
— See?

Maybe Fred Flintstone
and Barney Rubble knocked it up!

And who was going to produce this masterpiece?

Exactly. Alfred Stopcock here.

So while we're worrying ourselves sick,

these two are getting drunk
and dreaming of making a Hollywood film.

— Listen to me, Raquel...
— No. You listen to me.

You've got to make contact with reality.
Everything with you is image.

I saw you in the pub. We're broke
and you threw money around like Elton John.

And instead of finding work, you sit in this flat
pretending to be Quentin Tarantino.

When we're in the Capri,
you have the windows up, even in a heatwave,

to make it look like you've got air conditioning!

- I know I'm not perfect...
— That is the understatement of the year!

Unless a miracle happens, in ten days' time,

my son and I are going to be living
in some bed and breakfast in Sodoffsville!

If it's a miracle you want, then I'm your man.
I'm chairman of Miracles R Us.

You're a man, Del! You'll never understand.
Just remember, only women bleed.

Cor blimey! Only women bleed!

Gordon Bennett!

I am not a control freak.
It's just that I have had no choice.

Do you realise that when I was 16,

my old man walked out and left me
and Rodney with our daft old granddad?

He tried his best, but he wasn't up to it.

So I had to take over and I've been doing it
ever since and I can't get out of the habit.

I'm gonna have a lie—down.

All right?

Yeah. Fine. Raquel and I
have had a quiet little chat.

Yeah, I heard.

You got somewhere to stay after the auction?

Trigger said I could doss down at his place.

There's not much room, what with
all those "X—File" videos and chopsticks.

Oh, dear. Women.

Do you know what Raquel said?
Only women bleed. Blimey!

She ought to be outside the Nag's Head
on a Saturday night.

They reckon they suffer.
They don't know what it's like to be a bloke.

They worry about their PMT.
Us men worry about...

— Our MOT?
—= Yes.

— Do they listen to us?
- No, they don't.

No, they don't. She'll never meet
another bloke like me, will she?

No, she won't.

That's it, Rodney.

Once the flat is auctioned...
we'll go our separate ways. I won't see her again.

— Del, don't say that.
- No. That's it.

She won't be able to get round me.
When my mind is made up, my mind is made up!

(RAQUEL) Del?

Yes.

I just said I'm going for a lie—down.

She's...

She's all right really.

She's lovely, isn't she, eh?

Yeah. She's lovely.

You're not with me tonight, are you?

Sorry. Just thinking.

I know you're worried about losing the flat,

but my mum and dad
said we're welcome there.

- I know you and my mum don't...
— That's great. Thanks.

— I can't eat.
- What's wrong?

Nothing. I'm just not hungry.

I refuse to have this baby till you tell me.

Take a look at this.
It's the Jolly Boys' outing to Margate. July 1960.

This is great. Is that Del?

Yeah. 15.

And Trigger. Look at Trigger.

— Keep looking.
— That must be Boycie. Those eyes.

— And Denzil. Look at his hair!
— Yeah. Keep looking.

There's your granddad. Ah. And there's you...

Yeah.

July 1960. Before I was born.

— Where is everyone?
- I'm in the bathroom. Dinner's in the oven.

All right.

Dear, oh, dear...

Bloody hell.

So who is he?

He's my father.

— But your father is...
- My real father.

My biological old man.

I've had my suspicions for years.

People tried to convince me
it was my imagination.

His name was Freddie the Frog. He'd been
a Royal Navy diver, hence the nickname.

He and my mum were.. friends.

Are you absolutely certain?

Look at the photo, Cass.
We don't need DNA with this one.

All right? What's the first name
that springs to mind?

Well...Rodney.

Exactly. Rodney.

who is he?

His name was Freddie Robdal.
He was a mate of my dad's.

My mum was having a rough time
with the old man.

He was very handy,
if you know what I mean, with women.

Not much cop when it came to men,
but a hard nut with women and kids.

One day my dad brought Freddie home

and him and my mum got on
like a house on fire.

They had the same taste in music
and...well, everything.

And what was he, this Freddie Robdal?

He was a gentleman safe—cracker.
They called him the Raffles of Peckham.

People have mentioned him before
and we sounded similar.

He was a connoisseur of fine wines, a gourmet,

a real snappy dresser, big—time charmer.

So how are you similar?

We're about the same height.

Where's Freddie the Frog or Daddy now?

He's dead. Back in '64, he was breaking
into a safe and he sat on the detonator.

He sat on the detonator? Why?

I think it's what's known,
in the underworld, as "an accident".

And you've known all these years?

No. At least, not when Rodney was a baby.

When you get to 20
and your six—year—old brother is taller than you,

it makes you think.

I never knew really who he was.

As a youngster,
I was told to call him Uncle Fred.

Then a few years back,
Uncle Albert got drunk at an old folks' do...

It was a wet corset contest.

Anyway, he told me
all about Freddie and my mum.

I don't know if you noticed, but there are
no photographs of my mum in this house,

except for a couple of close-ups.

I assumed your dad had taken them when he left.

No. He only used to take money
and things that he could sell.

Then Uncle Albert told me.

It was my Aunt Rene who dealt with it
just after Mum's funeral.

Every photograph in this house
had a picture of Freddie Robdal in it.

My Aunt Rene knew that as Rodney got older,

people would see the stimularities...

..s0 she burnt 'em.

Do you think Rodney knows?

He's never been very observant, has he?

Nah. He ain't got a clue.

— Do you think Del knows?
— He would have said.

— Are you gonna tell him?
- No.

It'd break his heart.

Will you say anything to Rodney?

I can't. It'd break his heart.

— Who have we got to see?
— Cartwright.

What do you think he wants?

You've asked me that a hundred times
and a hundred times I've said I don't know.

Well, think hard.
We don't want to go in there unarmed.

If we know what you did,
we can have our excuses ready.

I've done nothing but think.

AlL1 know is that every business decision,
every tactical move that I've ever made,

we've already been done for.

It's probably nothing.

Del, solicitors don't send you ten letters
for nothing.

This is something
and my instincts say it's something bad.

— We're gonna go to prison.
— Shut up, you tart. We're not.

Cassandra's going to be bringing my baby
to visit me in Wormwood Scrubs.

And you know the fun they get up to in prison.

You can guarantee I'm gonna be a prime target.

I hope they put us in separate cells,
you depressing git.

How do you expect me to feel?
In a few weeks I could be someone's bitch!

Some great big ugly geezer's
gonna choose me to be his special friend.

All you've got to say is, "Oi! None of that."

He'll say, "I'll look after you, Rodney."

He'll lend me his Rolling Stones CD
and then we'll be engaged.

At least we'll have a party, then.

I'll ask for solitary confinement.

No, don't do that.
You don't want a reputation as a tease.

— You're enjoying this.
— Just listen to me, dopey.

The lawyer has asked us to come in for a chat.

This whatever it is is a civil matter.
You only go to prison for a criminal offence.

That means a police prosecution.
Do you see any Mr Plods around here?

Yes. I'm so stupid.
I just let my imagination run away with itself.

— But if the worst comes to the worst...
- All right. I'll go in the showers first.

— I've been doing a bit of thinking.
- Mm?

You know that photo that Sid lent me...

Gentlemen? Mr Cartwright will see you now.

Gentlemen, please take a seat.
So...at last we meet.

You two have proved very elusive.
I've been writing to you for three months.

— Yes. Sorry about that. We've been busy.
— We've had a few problems recently.

I heard. I took the liberty of speaking
to your solicitor. He related a tale of woe.

The international stock market
can be a fickle thing.

No. I was referring to his unpaid bill.

Oh. We were discussing that
out in your waiting room. It's in the post.

I'm sure. Let's attend to the matter at hand.

Can't you just tell us the worst?

Tell us what you're suing us for
and we'll tell you why we can't pay.

Mr Trotter, you seem to be
under the wrong impression.

Did you read my letters?
I said I had something that may be of interest.

My firm acted as solicitors for your great—uncle,
Albert Gladstone Trotter.

Oh, no.

All right. What did he do?

Nothing, as far as I know.
This is a reading of his last will and testament.

— Albert left a will?
— He didn't have nothing.

Well, not quite.

When you came into your fortune,
you made Albert a very generous gift.

Yeah. We saw that he was all right.

But that would be six years ago.
He's probably blown all that.

Not entirely. As you know,
Albert lived a very simple life.

He didn't buy properties or Rolls—Royces,

didn't care for Caribbean holidays
or Hawaiian cruises.

He simply invested your gift, and in
a far more stable area than you managed to.

All his investments were blue-chip —
not very exciting, but stable,

and bringing in a small interest.

He's left his entire estate to you.

Before I do the legal reading,
let's cut to the chase.

After death duties,
he has left you the sum of £145,000.

Er...each.

(MOBILE RINGS)

Hello? Raquel. Raquel!
You'll never guess. We're saved.

It was all about Uncle Albert and his will. Hm?

We're on our way.

She's in delivery room ten.

— I don't know if I can face this.
— Course you can.

You gotta be there for the birth.
You'll never forgive yourself.

- No, you're right.
— Here y'are.

This is it. Give us your coat.

Good boy. Right. Go on, then.

Oh, bloody hell.

I'm sorry.

What are you playing at?
You just wander in for a look?

— It weren't like that. I...I'm sorry.
— Bleedin' perv!

It was room 16, not ten.

- I nearly got a punch on the nose.
— Shut up, you tart. Come on.

- Rodney...
— I gotta be there for the birth.

— You can't be there for the birth.
— What?

They've had to give Cassandra
a Caesarean section.

— What's happened to my baby?
— The baby's been delivered.

Mother and child are fine.

Mr Trotter?

— Are you all right, sweetheart?
- I've never felt better in my life.

She's a love, isn't she?

Well... What do you reckon?

She's like a work of art.

Yeah. Lovely jubbly.

What are you gonna call her?

I don't know yet.

Me and Cass had this agreement.
If it was a boy, she'd name him.

— If it was a girl, I could name her.
— You're not going to hold me to that?

Oh, yeah.

What were you saying on the phone
about Uncle Albert?

Oh, I'll explain it all later.

ALL I'L say is the auctioneers can go
and stuff themselves 'cause we are staying put.

Del.

A work of art.

Yes, you are.

Did you love him? Did he love you?

I hope he made you happy.
You know...a few laughs.

I've got two photos of you.

But that's it. That's my past.

My history is two photos. One of them's blurred.

Don't matter.

I hope she'll be as lovely as you.

Well, she will.

I wish I'd known you. I wish we'd had...

Well, you know, something to...

(CAR APPROACHING)

Just something.

If you bump into Uncle Albert, say thanks.

There you are, Rodney.
I've been looking for you.

I thought I'd take her out for a walk.
Did a bit of tidying up.

She's a little heartbreaker, eh?

— Have you got a name for her yet?
- Mm.

Joan. Do you like your name?

Del, can I ask you a question?

What's that?

Other than looks, was he like me in any way?

- who?
- You know who. Freddie Robdal.

My father.

Freddie the Frog was a professional burglar.

He was disloyal to his friends.

He was a womaniser,
a home—breaker, a con man,

a thief, a liar and a cheat.

So, no, Rodney, you're nothing like him.

Come on. Let's go home, bruv.

— Can I ask you a question, Rodders?
— Fire away.

Where did that runway come from?

(LAUGHTER)

I don't fancy making that film any more.

You know what, Rodders?
That's a bloody good idea.

# We've got some half-price cracked ice
and miles and miles of carpet tiles

# TVs, deep freeze and David Bowie LPs

# Ball games, gold chains,
what's—their—names and at a push

# Some Trevor Francis tracksuits
from a mush in Shepherd's Bush

# Bush, Bush, Bush, Bush, Bush, Bush

# No income tax, no VAT

# No money back, no guarantee

# Black or white, rich or broke

# We'll cut prices at a stroke

# God bless Hooky Street!

# Viva Hooky Street!

# Long live Hooky Street!

# C'est magnifique, Hooky Street!

# Magnifique, Hooky Street!

# Hooky Street

# Hooky Street

# Hooky Street... #