Original subtitles

-He's dead? -He looks it, doesn't he?

Found that in my pocket at the bowls club last night.

-Who could know about William? -Well, no-one.

We've been unbelievably careful.

I am your great Uncle Otto from Bavaria.

-Look! -It's Pamela Anderson!

-We're screwed. -Coming clean will mean that we can fully pursue Pam

for the blackmail.

Just one small problem. You're in this photo.

SCREAMING

Right, then. Change of plan.

-I thought you said we weren't going to pay Pamela. -We're not.

We're doing a little thing called the hamburger trick.

But we can't set a trap without bait.

SIREN WAILS

-Shitting hell, who are you? -What's this about?

You'll never believe this,

but Pamela Anderson, she's in cahoots.

-With who? -Marcus, the funeral director.

Oh!

DOG BARKS

I even did this.

-"We'll be watching." -That's class!

Sounds like you really freaked him out.

Aye, he was probably shaking. He was like a little dog.

He goes, "Please don't arrest me. I've got eczema."

"I'm scared. I'm scared!"

THEY LAUGH

-Oh, God. I'm an awful person. -No. No, no, you're not, you're not.

He had it coming. But now it's just the adrenaline's worn off,

so you're starting to feel anxious.

Eurgh, I don't want to feel that. That's your thing.

How do I make this stop?

I just play hours and hours and hours of Football Manager.

I don't want to play Football Manager.

I hate that game. It's bloody boring!

It's not boring if you understand it.

But that's not important right now. Just take a deep breath for me.

SHE INHALES

Now, what are you feeling?

Guilty.

OK, well, we take that bad feeling... OK?

We're just going to push it down.

Down here, to a little cave.

We're going to close the door.

And then that feeling can't get to you.

-Is this what you do, is it? -Yeah.

Harry, you're on antidepressants,

and you can't eat a yoghurt without retching.

Yeah, I'm not saying I'm the pinnacle of mental well being.

I'm just... I'm just trying to help.

-Well, it hasn't. -OK.

Where are you going?

I need to play some Football Manager.

Right, well, that's the last of my parky pills.

May as well just die now, then.

Take me to Beachy Head and I'll wobble myself off.

William! You need to be more resilient.

Resilience doesn't come into it

when your nervous system runs like a car engine lubricated with turds.

Yes, yes. Poor you.

We will get you some more pills, so just relax.

-Are you winding me up? -What? -When I wanted to buy that drone,

you said we weren't spending the money on fripperies.

This is not a frippery.

This is a state-of-the-art collagen boosting LED mask.

Oh, it's collagen boosting, is it? Well, you should have said.

I take it all back, then. It's science, is it?

Yes. Don't be such a Luddite.

Yeah, well, you look... You look like a sexbot.

Oh, thank you very much.

The face of C3PO in the body of R2D2.

Ow!

-I'm your sexbot. -You are, you sexy sexbot.

You are. Nighty-tight. Oh, God.

Oh.

You did remember to turn the oven off, didn't you?

Yes. I'm not senile yet.

Hmm.

SNIFFING

-What's that smell, then? -As you well know,

that nice Mr Parkinson has taken that sense from me.

It's like...

SNIFFING

...a sort of roast pork.

SNIFFING

Oh, effing Nora! It's my own face!

Oh! Oh! Ow, ow, ow!

-God, has that left marks? -Erm...

...it appears the Debratron 3000 has somewhat malfunctioned.

Oh, God!

So you think someone tried to obtain your medication fraudulently?

-That's right. Yes. -Did you recognise them?

-Are you all right? -Yeah. Sorry. It's just your uniform.

What about it?

Um, I got accidentally arrested on a trip to York Minster once.

I'd gone because it has a very nice Gothic nave,

but I was carrying some soup for my lunch

and they thought I was part of Just Stop Oil.

Anyway, I got body-slammed into a communion table,

and now I'm having flashbacks.

I'm sorry to hear that.

-Could it have been a mix-up? -I don't think so.

There is one other chap round here with Parkinson's,

but he died.

Did he now?

OK, so this is who tried to steal Ken's medication.

-Do you recognise him? -Well, he looks annoying.

Stop going out. This is really serious.

-I know. I've got Parkinson's. -No.

I mean, you can't steal other people's medication.

-That is not OK. -Yeah. What were you thinking?

Well, it didn't work, did it? I'm completely out of pills

and I'm desperate. You know, we tried everything else.

That is a deeply concerning sentence. What else have you tried?

SHE EXHALES

Your hand has stopped shaking.

Oh.

SHE EXHALES

-It was the other one before. -Oh.

SHE MUTTERS

They come and go, the tremors.

Could you move your seat back, please?

Oh.

Just another test?

No. You have a very sibilant way of speaking, and I'm worried

you're going to expel flecks of your saliva into my mouth.

Also, you don't have Parkinson's.

I think I do.

-You don't. -No, I'm sure I do.

You don't.

-Not even a little bit? -No.

Parkinson's is like pregnancy, Mrs Fendon.

Either you have it or you don't.

Could I get the pills anyway?

Like a sort of vaccine?

Cos I feel very much like someone

who's going to get Parkinson's... soon.

And badly. Yeah?

No.

Right.

-I'll smash you. -What did you say?

Nothing.

We rehearsed that for a week.

I'm popping into town. Does anybody want anything?

-Yeah. Dad's out of Parky meds. -Well, I'm getting some ibuprofen.

It's not going to touch the sides.

I'm seizing up like the Tin Man here.

-Debbie, what happened to your...? -Oh, don't.

It's this bloody thing! I'm returning it.

Basically, I put my head into a Breville to as tie-maker last night.

Poor Debbie and her cooked face.

I've got Parkinson's.

Actually, while you're here,

have you got an update on the, um, the thingy? You know, last night.

Do you mean the massively unethical fake drugs bust

I orchestrated in order to protect you

from being blackmailed by a corrupt funeral director

and Pamela Anderson, cos you took a quarter of a million pounds

instead of telling anyone, including your own family,

that your husband wasn't actually dead, but was alive and well

-and living in the loft? -Yeah, that.

Well, no, but as long as you two stop doing stupid things,

I'd be very surprised if we ever see Marcus again.

-Oh, OK. Well. that's good. -Just to say - I'm not well.

I've got Parkinson's.

-Yeah, we know. -Yeah, we know that.

Oh, endlessly on and on about it...

HE SIGHS

Oh, my God, it's you!

-H-How did you find me? -I followed you,

which was easier said than done.

Because you're a brisk thing, aren't you?

Oh, sorry. Do you mind? Just budge up a little bit.

That's it. I've not been blessed with a broad stride pattern.

My son says I bustle about like a Shetland pony,

but then he's got a very cruel sense of humour.

So come on, then. What's the story?

-What do you mean? -Well, why me? I'm just a widow.

Well, I might not be the most widow-y widow that ever widowed,

but still...

How did you find out?

William Fendon.

You kissed that corpse.

Well, we've both done things we're not proud of.

VEHICLE APPROACHES

I've got to go.

-Where? -Bristol. I'm doing flu camp.

-What's flu camp? -You get paid to get flu.

Are you really that desperate for money?

Look, I got the message last night, OK?

If I'd have known how connected you were,

I never would have done this.

How old are you?

33.

Are you sure about flu camp?

Hmm? Come on.

Come on.

-Any luck? -No.

Dead end.

All right. I need to get back to work,

-but we'll sort something. -OK.

Bye, William.

Hello!

Bye-bye. Yes.

Oh...

-Oh, dear. -Don't worry, it's just drool.

Small mercies.

DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES

William!

Oh, I didn't think you two would still be here.

Why? Is there a problem?

Not as such, no. There's nothing...

It's just I've invited someone for lunch.

Oh, for frig's sake. Why have you done that?

I'll be off to the cupboard, then.

No, it's OK, William. The guest is aware of our situation.

Hiya.

- WHISPERS: - Hi.

SHE SCREAMS

Good point. Well made.

Well, you've really gone and done it this time.

-Could you please offer our guest a drink? -Are you listening to me?

That man in there has been blackmailing us.

You want me just to go there and offer him a sherry?

No, we're out of sherry. Actually, can you add that to the list?

We've got Shloer and Baileys. Oh, that's probably gone off.

Just offer him a coffee.

If you think I'm being part of this Mad Hatter's tea party,

then that sexbot face mask

must have cooked your brain as well as your cheeks.

So you don't want lunch?

-No, I do not. -OK. It's Charlie Bigham's.

I will have the lunch, but I am not making conversation.

I know you're probably not in the mood to discuss this right now,

but do you think, and I appreciate this might be a bit annoying

because of what my mum's just done, but I was thinking,

given that you're the police, and my dad does need his medication...

-Get to the point. -Can you recommend a good local drug dealer?

Are you joking?

I need to help my dad.

Right. And... and do you want to help me?

Yeah. Of course.

Then stop asking me to break the law.

You're right. I'm sorry. I'm not thinking clearly.

I mean, why would YOU know someone anyway?

Excuse me. I'm not a total clean shirt.

I do know someone.

But then, after that, I am done, OK?

And it's only cos I love your dad.

Even though sometimes I do wonder whether I married into the Fendons

or the Gambinos.

I promise, this time next year we'll be legit.

And then it turned out that not only had Daniel been cheating on me,

but the money I'd been giving him,

which I thought was for the mortgage,

-he'd been giving to this Renato. -Oh. That's awful, Marcus.

Isn't it, William?

PEANUT FALLS

Anyway, I'm over it now.

It doesn't sound like it.

But it did make me behave very badly.

-I can't excuse it. -No, but... But listen.

If a man steals a fish to feed his family,

teach that man to fish,

and he WILL fish... for fish.

Don't worry about it.

She always talks bloody codswallop.

Here.

Just to help you get back on your feet.

Y-Y-You're joking?!

Hang on. If he gets that, then I get my drone.

Oh, have a heart! This lad has been through the wringer.

Debbie, I can't accept this.

-No, quite right. Give it back. -Of course you can.

-It is enough, isn't it? -Unbelievable.

I mean, I don't know what to say.

This isn't a trap, is it?

No. We took that money to help people, Marcus.

People like you.

And EVEN people like Pamela Anderson.

Oh.

How do you know her?

Oh, we're old friends. Or we used to be. Yeah.

You never did tell me how you two teamed up.

Did you know each other before the funeral?

Sorry. What on earth are you talking about?

Pamela.

She delivered your blackmail note to me at the bowls club.

Oh...

No, we caught her on CCTV.

Debbie, I'm not teasing your tits here.

I've never seen this before in my life.

Ah...

That might explain why... why this came this morning.

This came today? And you didn't tell me?

I thought we were done,

and, you know, that got stuck in the post.

I mean, the post round here's more unreliable than your ex-boyfriend.

But this isn't post. This is hand-delivered.

What's the difference?

A stamp!

No, post is what comes through the letterbox!

No, post has a stamp on it.

No, by being posted it becomes post.

No, post has a stamp on it. Tell him, Marcus.

-I'm afraid I do agree with Deborah. -Yes.

See? Thank you, Marcus.

-Harold. -Jesus!

-You're like the Candyman. -Who's the Candyman?

Was it another one of your cruel jokes about my sweet tooth?

I don't appreciate your bullying.

-It's not bullying. It's a film. -I don't care.

Now, listen, we have a problem.

-What? -We have a problem. -Yes, I know we have a problem.

You invited our blackmailer for lunch.

It's lucky that I did,

because I found out that he isn't our blackmailer.

-He's ONE of our blackmailers. -Wait. What?

There's two blackmailers.

-Oh, my God. -I know, it's like buses.

You wait for ages and then two come along at once.

Mum, what are we going to do?

I do have... a plan.

Do you?

Well, then, we're fine.

-Oh, thank you. -Yeah, because so far,

your plans have been meticulously thought through.

That's more of your sarcasm, isn't it?

-Yeah, it is. -Well, you could learn a thing or two from Marcus,

who is a polite young man.

And, BTF...

-BTF? -..you shouldn't be drinking those.

I saw a Panorama about it.

Those will make you anxious.

Yeah, the drinks are the issue.

Right, so levodopa and ropinirole?

-Yeah. Correct. -OK. I shall see you later, then.

Oh, no. Just hang on a minute. Not so fast.

-It's just good to... -What are you doing?

-I'm coming with you. -No. No, you can't be seen.

-Oh, please. -No, no, no. I'm serious.

These people, they take advantage of the vulnerable.

I'm a... I'm a pensioner.

Never purchased more than a paracetamol.

Come on, let me live.

Just a little. Come on, I've got a disguise.

Please? Come on.

Let's go, let's go.

Come on. Please?

There we are.

That's 200 of your finest English pounds.

HE GROANS

Is it a family business, is it?

-Right. Here you are, then. -Thank you.

-Hmm. -Is that the right stuff?

Um, well, Sinemet's my preferred brand, but these will do.

-Right, then. Thanks. -Yeah, well, hang on.

-What? -I need to try before I buy, don't I?

Yeah. No offence, but, you know,

for 200 quid, I want to make sure I'm getting what you might call...

- DEEP VOICE: - ..the good shit.

Won't take long.

So we have to wait till you come up?

HE COUGHS

I don't so much come up as come on.

-What? -Having Parkinson's

is a bit like being one of those little monkey toys,

you know, with the cymbals,

except one that runs out of battery a lot throughout the day.

So what I'm going to do is,

I'm just going to have a little snooze,

and if I power back up again in about 20 minutes,

then we'll know that they're kosher.

Apologies in advance for the drooling and the snoring

and, I dare say, the farting.

See you in a bit.

Her granny was meant to have her today

but she forgot she had tickets to Blood Brothers

and left me in the lurch.

-Nightmare. -Honestly,

you think your parents are going to help when you have a kid, but,

actually, they're a bigger pain in the arse than the toddlers.

HE GRUNTS

There we are. Would you care to come in?

No, thanks.

-Oh. -What?

I just thought your response was a bit blunt, that's all.

Why? What did you want me to say?

-No, nothing. -No. No, go on.

No, it's just, um, you know when I said I'd forgotten my wallet

and I went back to your friend's car?

Not my friend. Literally a drug dealer.

Yeah. Anyway, I went back to procure a bag of these little fizzers.

Edible ganja.

Wouldn't mind a bit of company when I dabble.

It is meant to be good for my symptoms.

Hmm?

All right.

Damn! I forgot about Bargain Hunt.

Let's call it off.

No, no, no. You need to distract them.

Well, Pamela, anyway. It doesn't matter about Jean. She's blind.

This is quite mental.

There's a fine line between mental and genius, Harold.

Yeah, that's what mental people say.

Look, I need to gather evidence so that Neha can arrest Pamela.

Yeah, and then she'll tell everyone about Dad.

No! That's where my plan comes into action.

Oh, yeah. The plan.

Not only have we got your dad's death certificate,

but we also have the funeral director

who cremated him on the payroll

and ready to swear in a court of law

that that dead body was indeed your dad.

We are home and clean.

You paid off Marcus?

-Of course. Yeah. -Neha was right.

What?

We're a crime family.

Oh, don't be silly. Crime families kill people.

We're just a bit complicated.

Like the Beckhams. Come on.

I feel like my hands are encased in sort of Polystyrene blocks

and little mice running across my tummy,

and they're wearing tiny little football boots.

Right.

It's not a wholly unpleasant sensation.

So do you think it'd be all right if I chip off, then?

-I need to get the kids. -Yeah...

-OK. -Night-night.

-Now, you say that, I do wonder... -What?

Yeah. I thought as much.

HE VOMITS

-What are you waiting for? -I don't know if I can do it.

-I don't know what to say. -Of course you can do it.

No, no.

-No, Mum, no. What do I say? -She's coming.

I think I'm going to have a panic attack.

Get on with it, you sissy!

-Hello? -Hello.

If you're looking for your mum, she's not here, you know.

We do invite her, but she says that Bargain Hunt is for halfwits.

She's more of a Flog It! gal.

That's by the by, anyway. I'm actually not here for her. No.

I'm-I'm here because I'm, uh... I'm fundraising.

-Really? For what? -For, um...

Cat.

S.

Cats.

-OK. -Pamela! They're about to do the auction.

Sorry, I've got to go. There's a carpeted commode,

and we're worried it won't make its reserve.

No, you can't go.

-These cats are in trouble, Pam. -Are they? How?

They're, uh...

They're dead.

-You're fundraising for dead cats? -Sorry. No, they're not dead.

They're, um...

They're deaf, so they can't...

They will die if we don't raise money for them.

Why would deaf cats die?

Because they're not just deaf cats, Pamela.

These are deaf cats with...

...Parkinson's disease.

And, you know, I don't want them to suffer like Dad did.

Oh...

Oh...

Am I going to die?

No, you're just having a whitey.

What's a whitey?

It's when you have a bad trip and, um, you vomit.

HE VOMITS

HE GROANS AND GURGLES

They can't even clean themselves because they wobble too much.

Aw...

CAT MIAOWS AND HISSES

MIAOWS

It's OK...

MIAOWS

So they can't even catch a little mouse. And they...

PHONE RINGS

Sorry.

Would you excuse me a second, but also not move from where you are?

Thank you.

-Hello. -You need to pick the kids up.

- WILLIAM GURGLES - I'm in the middle of something.

-And it's your turn. -Something's come up with your dad.

We went to get his, you know, Parkinson's stuff.

I took my eye off him for literally a minute

and, well, he ate some cannabis

and now he's projectile vomiting everywhere

and I think I'm going to be sick.

Mum's gonna go potty if he's done that all over the rug.

I'll leave you to it.

-Yeah. Give me a second here, Pam. -You get on.

It's been lovely chatting, OK?

I said give me a fucking second, Pam!

WILLIAM VOMITS

I need to go.

-You need to get the kids. -OK. Bye-bye. Mwah.

CAT WHINES

Sh-sh-shh-shh!

So there's a bit of an emergency!

SHOUTS: - I'm going to have to go now. OK?

-OK. -And just to be clear,

that's me, Harry Gerald Fendon, leaving your house,

-Pamela Anderson. -OK!

- SHOUTS: - Bye, then.

Bye-bye.

Bye!

Bye-bye!

Bye!

Bye!

Bye!

Bye!

Bye!

CAT MIAOWS

Trixie?

DEBBIE SIGHS

CAT MIAOWS

Trixie?

CAT MIAOWS

Trixiebelle, where are you?

CAT MIAOWS

Here, puss-puss!

PAMELA GASPS

THUD

Ah... Right.