Original subtitles

He's dead?!

Now he's not here, I've realised

Dad was my best friend.

Can you keep a secret?

It turns out I hadn't died.

Oh, my God! Dad!

The money from your dad's life insurance finally came through.

You've stolen a quarter of million quid?

We did want that money for you and Neha and the boys.

This is fraud. You can go to prison.

I know we've put you

in a tiny bit of an impossible situation.

You mustn't tell Neha.

You could put her career at risk.

I can't believe he's actually gone.

I know. Neither can we.

Oh!

Oi! You! Can't you read? It says no junk mail.

No, it don't.

Oh, for f...

William, that tosspot son of yours

has vandalised the sign again.

Mum?

Dad?

Hello?

Hello?

Oh, my God. Oh, my God...

Oh, my God. No, no, no, no.

Dad?

Wah-wah-wah!

What the hell are you doing?

Just a bit of fun.

You scared the shit out of me.

That's what makes it fun.

How many times are you gonna make me think you're dead?

Well, as long as we keep getting a good reaction.

Serves you right for the sign.

It's a good hat, innit?

Yeah. It's all about the little flourishes.

Yeah.

Your face!

Ah...

What are these for?

Can't a boy just buy some flowers for his mummy?

No. And don't call me mummy.

- It's creepy. - Yeah.

- Are those for me? - Yes.

I also treated me and Neha to a jet washer

with some of the insurance money.

Yeah. Sweet. Which one?

The Karcher K5 Power Control

with the dirt blaster and the spray lance.

It's actually in the boot if you wanna give it a go.

That does sound like my idea of fun, but unfortunately,

I've just got something urgent to attend to first.

Ah-ah-ah!

William Fendon, where do you think you're going?

Just upstairs.

Do you think I was born yesterday?

No. I know you're 67.

Right.

Out the way. Hand them over.

Hand what over?

Don't make me wrestle you again.

Not in front of the child.

You're a cruel woman. Cruel, cruel woman.

So very, very cruel.

Cruel.

Cruel!

- It is a bit cruel, - Harold, he's an addict.

And he's going to eat himself into an early grave.

Another one.

And next time, there won't be a payout to soften the blow.

Isn't that incredible?

I never knew our patio even looked like that.

- It's nice you found a hobby. - Yeah. Since we got it,

me and Harry just look at everything now like,

"I could jet-wash the shit out of that."

Have you got owt that needs blasting?

Brickwork? Garden furniture? We'll do it all.

No, I personally don't like jet washers.

We had a terrible experience last summer.

Neil was doing our patio.

He'd just plugged in

when he saw Chloe's guinea pig in the garden.

Because it was a hot day,

he thought he'd give her a quick drink from the hose.

That's nice.

He hadn't appreciated the power.

Poor thing flew nearly 200ft.

And that wasn't the worst of it.

You know Geoff Varley from the bowls club?

Yeah.

He was in his garden having a barbecue.

He barbecued the guinea pig?!

- Oh. No. - Oh.

He got hit by it.

But something that size fired at that speed,

it's like he'd been struck by a mortar.

Poor Neil was in bits.

What about the guinea pig?

Bluebell actually stayed in one piece.

Dead, though.

Broken back.

Still, nice you're enjoying it.

Your foxes are very regular, aren't they?

- They must eat a lot of fibre. - Oh, tell me about it.

I must say, it's nice to see you more cheerful.

I did consider being mortally offended,

but then I figured you and Dad

have always done deranged things,

so I might as well get something out of it this time.

Yeah. What, like the jet hoser?

Oh, yeah.

I mean, you know, being able to pay rent, feed our children,

that's good too, but a Karcher...

...that's something me and Neha

could only have dreamed of before.

Neha and I.

See, sometimes Mum knows best.

There is one fly in the ointment.

Huh?

We can't keep lying to her.

No, but what other option do we have?

Well, you tell her the truth?

Well, no, we definitely can't do that.

- I have to. We're married. - She's a police officer.

She's worked so hard to get where she is.

And you want to compromise that

so that you can feel better about yourself?

Selfish, Harold.

Very, very, very selfish.

What you need to do is go home, give her a little cuddle,

and stop thinking about yourself for a minute.

...Is often made that Britain is too centralised...

Do you know, I never realised how utterly dreadful

television is without chocolate.

You're just withdrawing from the sugar.

You'll come out the other side much stronger.

I don't want to come out the other side

if this is what my life's going to be like.

This shroud of colourless misery,

this world of despair,

insipid fog...

It's been four hours.

Please can I pop to the petrol station?

Well, of course you bloody can't! What if you're seen?

I'll wear a disguise.

I'm not having this argument again.

- You know the rules. - Well, no, I don't, actually,

because you keep bloody changing them.

Honestly, you run this house

like Guantanamo Bay, but with less humanity.

...the Second World War. After the First World War...

Rumsfeld!

William, don't turn it up.

Decided that if there was another conflict...

Sorry, what is this?

I just wanted to do something nice for your mum,

you know, to thank her for the money.

Yeah. All right. Who did it?

Lovely Martha in the market.

Doesn't she usually paint pets?

Yeah. Which is why this is even more impressive.

I mean, I only asked her to do it last week.

Imagine being able to paint that quick.

I think you can tell she normally does animals.

Why?

We've got paws.

My mum looks like a spaniel.

And she's given me whiskers.

I think that's meant to be stubble.

Come here. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I don't mean to upset you.

It's just that it's a bit...

Triggering, to see your dad again.

- Uh, if you like. - Sorry.

Hopefully your mum will like it more than you do.

Oh, no, we shouldn't show it to her.

But hers is being delivered tomorrow.

Sorry, you bought this painting twice?

Yeah. Why? Is that not a good idea?

No.

Oh.

No, it's a phenomenal idea.

- What is this? - I told you.

I think I'd remember if you told me you were hosting

a charity fundraising night in memory of Dad.

- Why? - Because he's not dead.

Oh, God. You take everything so literally.

OK, so your dad might not be dead physically,

but emotionally, he's been gone since the '90s.

Getting people to donate money

under false pretences is unethical.

Oh, don't give me that.

You got over your ethics pretty quickly

when you realised it got you a jet hoser.

I'm just delighted the money's going to go

to some humans for once.

I'm fed up with all these animal shelters

hoovering up the cash.

"Ooh, our kittens have got wheels

"instead of back legs. Ooh..."

Mum, this is bad juju.

Why? We're raising money for charity.

If anything, that's good juju, whatever juju is.

- What is juju? - Oh, I can't...

Please come.

It would be really nice to put on a united front, you know.

Plus, the bereaved family, you know,

all together, that will grease a few wallets.

And we'll need that,

because they're tight as a gnat's fanny down that club.

Why am I so... jowly?

She paints a lot of dogs.

I'll just be a sec.

- Harry, we're at code red. - What are you doing?

Neha's right there.

Your mother's gone all Taliban.

She's banned chocolate and biscuits.

Chocolate biscuits.

She's making me eat flaxseed.

Do you know how they make flaxseed?

- No. - Well, they hoover up

all the dried guff from under the sofa cushion,

they stick it in a bag and write "flaxseed" on it.

Now is not the time for one of your flaps.

This is not a flap. I feel like I'm in Requiem For A Dream.

I've got the shakes, and it's not from the Parkinson's.

- Can't you order some online? - No, I tried,

but Fritzl in there has got wise to it

and hidden the router.

Hiding the router won't make a difference, Dad,

- the internet is wireless. - Harry, Neha is right there.

I haven't got time for a computer lesson.

Just get me some chocolate!

And make sure it's Dairy Milk, not Galaxy,

which, as far as I'm concerned,

is made with sour cream and earwax,

which I quite like, but not in chocolate.

Can you open the boot, please?

Yeah.

I'll have to come straight from work.

Pigfish has been back at the pumps.

- Oh, God. - Not a pretty sight.

Well, don't commission a portrait of it, then.

Very good.

No phones on the forecourt.

Look, I'll pick Mum up and take her to the bowls club.

- I will meet you there. Bye. - OK, bye.

- Love you. - Love you.

I tell you this - it's a disgrace

what you let him get away with.

He's gone right up to the hilt on this one.

Bloody hell. I'm surprised he can walk.

Where are you going?

Nowhere.

What's in that bag?

Nothing.

Dad.

Dad!

Dad?

Wah!

Oh, dear.

- Harry? - William?

- Harry! - William?

Oh, dear. Harry!

- What have you done? - Well, I jumped out on him.

- Why? - Why not?

Because you've knocked him out, you idiot!

I didn't mean to. I'm just so bored.

Oh, God. You're gonna have to patch him up

because I've got to get ready.

How am I going to do that?

Harry? Harry! Come on.

- Oh... - Harry.

Oh...

I see now.

I'm as shocked as you are.

Oh, don't even try it, you devious hound.

Oh, dear.

- Harry. Harry. - You know, they say that

the saddest thing about betrayal

is that it starts with trust...

...and ends with betrayal... of trust

that that betrayal is the trust of.

That's your fault.

- Let's get that... - Whoa! What are you doing?

So I haven't got any plasters, so...

I'll be OK. Thank you.

Intruder alert.

What's that?

Now, that is a sensor I installed.

So I thought it'd be good to have some advance warning

of any visitors, but I think I may have installed it

on a pigeon flight path or something,

because it just keeps going off

- when no-one's there. - OK. That sounds normal.

Look, I'm sorry about the chocolate, Dad.

I'd like to say it's OK but, let's be honest,

it's an effing disaster.

Well, if you will let Mum control your life.

She doesn't control my life!

Apart from legally killing you, making you live in the loft

and governing what you eat.

The thing about marriage, Harry,

is that there's only ever two people

who really know what's going on.

Hmm? You know what your grandmother said to us

on our wedding day?

Princess Diana was murdered,

it was Prince Philip what done it?

No, that came later. No. She said,

"Don't try to be perfect. Just be honest."

And I can honestly say

that every single day of our marriage,

your mother and I have worked very hard to not be perfect.

We're honest to a fault.

Right, Tweedledee and Tweedletwat...

- See what I mean? - Mm-hm.

Have you printed out my speech, William?

Yep. There it is.

- Big font? - The biggest - jumbo sans.

- OK. - Wait. What speech?

Oh, it's a little keynote.

You know, nothing special. Tight ten.

Come on, traitor! We don't want to be late.

Sorry we're late.

How do you cope with his driving?

He's so timid, it's like getting a lift on a milk float.

To be fair, he is a bad driver, so he's right to be nervous.

You want to feel the steering wheel

after he's been on a dual carriageway.

It's dripping with sweat.

Haven't you got that sorted yet?

Do you remember, I told you

you can get your sweaty palms electrocuted?

Because Billie did it to her armpits.

Lovely. Can we go inside, please? Cos I don't...

Yeah.

Hey, is that dried blood in your hair?

Oh, he, um, clunked himself while he was clearing out

some of his dad's possessions, didn't you?

- Mm. I did, did I? - Yes, you did.

Yeah.

Oh, look. Aw...

Mum, this isn't gonna be over the top, is it?

Harold, it is a simple casino night

with a modest request

for charitable donations

and a short multimedia presentation.

I'm going to get some air.

Harry! Harry, wait.

Wait! Are you OK?

- I needed some air. - Why? Is it your head?

Are you feeling sick?

I think I need a bit of time to myself. So...

Harry, you can't even shut the toilet door

cos you don't like being alone.

- What is this about? - I can't... I...

We're a team, remember?

Yeah, I know. I know, but...

Tummy to tummy.

Cheek to cheek.

So, then, can you really not tell me?

- No. - Hm.

But I can show you. Come on.

Wait.

- What about your mum? - Oh, sod her. Get in.

Well, that was very, um...

...William.

- Yes, William. - William.

William.

Debbie, do you want to...?

Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you very much. Thank you.

Thank you.

Right, um, well, uh, where to start?

Um, in the words of Bob Geldof...

...give me your fucking money!

I think that's what he said, but more Irish than that.

I can't... I can't do Irish. So, um, to be serious

for a moment. We're here to have a good time,

but we're also here

to raise money for a very important cause.

As all of you know,

my darling William was a Parkinson's sufferer.

And, uh, boy, did we suffer endlessly hearing about it!

No, no. It is a cruel disease.

I've written, um, a proper speech, but,

um, it's in my jacket pocket.

Do you mind passing that to me?

Cheers, Geoff.

Lovely. Thank you.

Right...

- What's happening? - I don't know.

Sorry about that.

I wasn't expecting that font. It's...

Uh, William... was... dead.

Parkinson's...

Sorry, I actually feel like I'm gonna pass out.

Oh, God...

Call an ambulance. I've seen this before.

She's having a stroke.

Step back, please. Give me air, give me air.

When we first met, I was up front about

my parents being mad, right?

Where are you going with this?

Just tell me.

You warned me about their peculiarities.

- Yes. - And you still married me.

You had all the data and you still went through with it.

I tick the Apple terms and conditions too.

Don't mean I actually look at 'em.

But, yes, I married you, not your parents.

Good, because I love you.

- And I may not be perfect. - No, you're not perfect.

- But I am honest. - Oh, Harry, if this is about

you doing poppers in Year 6, I told you, I don't care.

No, no, no, it's not, it's not. It's about my dad.

Oh, I don't know how to say this,

so I think I'm just gonna say it.

He's still alive.

Oh, love.

I did have an inkling.

We see it a lot at work.

Really? I didn't think it'd be that common.

Oh, yeah! People get delayed concussion all the time.

I mean, it can sometimes come on hours or even days...

No, no, no, no, I'm not concussed.

Well, you are, but that's why you're being extra weird.

And in some ways, you're right. Your dad isn't dead.

Not in here.

No, he ain't dead.

And he's in there. He's in the loft.

Come on.

Your parents have a loft?

That's funny. It's not normally...

Dad?

Dad!

Open up! It's me. It's Harry, your son.

Maybe he's listening to something. He has been talking

about these noise-cancelling headphones recently.

- No. - He must be here, though.

He can't leave the house. And he'll know we're here,

because he's got this little motion-system thing

that tells him when people are coming down the drive,

although he might have thought we're just pigeons.

- Pigeons? - Unless...

Him and my mum have been doing this thing recently

with this, like, wolf hat,

and they creep up on me unexpectedly.

They just jump out.

All right.

Harry, I love you, OK, and you are gonna be fine,

but right now, we need to face the fact that you are having

a not-insignificant psychotic episode.

No. I'm not. I'm not. OK? No, I'm not.

Yeah. So if you just keep breathing

and if you want to hold my hand,

that's also fine. You can squeeze it tight.

Oh, that is very sweaty.

All right. I'm going to call the babysitter.

No.

Take you to A&E and get you checked out.

No, I'm not making...

No caller ID.

It could be one of those scam bots.

I'm not sure that's our biggest problem right now.

Yeah. You're right. It might be my dad.

Hello?

Oh, hi, Billie.

What? Oh, my God. Oh, yeah. Of course.

We'll, uh, we'll come now.

What's happened?

It's my mum. They think she's had a stroke.

What's going on?

They think it's severe dehydration.

Oh, thank God.

- So... so not a stroke. - No, no.

I think it all just got too much for her.

you know, with the emotion.

Your poor mum. She puts on a brave face,

but she's obviously grieving very intensely.

Will you take me home, please?

Get in the back, Harold.

Are you serious?

I've just had a stroke.

Thank you.

Thank you.

- Just drive, will you? - Seatbelt.

Oh, God. Oh, God!

Mum, just so you know, I've told Neha about Dad.

Yeah. So I know you didn't want me to,

but I've done it anyway.

Mum?

- Mum? - Oh, Harry, just leave it.

No, she needs to tell you the truth.

I'm sorry. I should have just got him checked out

- by the paramedics back there. - Yeah.

Excuse me. Don't talk about me like I'm a child.

Well, don't behave like one, then.

It's been a long day. I just need some rest.

But for what it's worth, I am sorry.

- You are? - Yes. I should have got you

to the hospital earlier because you're clearly concussed.

This is bad juju, Mum. It's really, really bad.

You're like a Gatling gun of lies.

I am not lying, Harold.

Look, I am sorry that your dad has died,

but we all have to come to terms with it.

Going on and on at me isn't going to change that.

Now, obviously you have suffered

a traumatic head injury,

but just being rude to me

is not going to bring your father back.

Oh, dear me.

Oh, there we go.

Evening, all. God, it's a bit of a squeeze, isn't it?

Anyone want a chunk? Fruit and nut?

What are you doing?

Just popped to the petrol station.

You have told her, right?

You massive twat!