Original subtitles

♪ We're not going out

♪ Not staying in

♪ Just hanging around

♪ With my head in a spin

♪ But there is no need to scream and shout

♪ We're not going out

♪ We are not going out. ♪

"Afternoon." Ooh, sarky, nice start.

"Be a good flatmate, put the bins out, buy some bread and get a job.

"Love, your favourite American in the whole wide world.

"PS: Monkey made you some cress and falafel muffins."

Oh, did he?

Well, you made them, you try them.

Stay with me, Monkey, I'll phone an ambulance.

KNOCK ON DOOR

That was quick.

Afternoon. Don't you start.

You're in luck, Kate's out.

It was actually her I came to see. Oh-h!

Not another 12 rounds of Smoking Jacket Joe Posh Nuts versus The Californian Vegan.

It's hardly Rumble In The Jungle.

More like Epileptic With The Septic.

You all right?

Yeah, it's just...

Can you ask her to call me?

What do you say to Kate but not me?

"Your left leg's Christmas, your right's Easter, can I visit between holidays?"

Actually, you can't say that to Kate any more, can you? I'm hardly flavour of the month.

Unless Ben & Jerry's have an ice cream called

Accountant Destroys Relationship With A Girl Half His Age, Helping Her Lose Her Cherry Garcia.

She was 23. I'll see you later.

I'm only joking. What's happened?

Come on, we're supposed to be best mates.

It's not really our territory.

This isn't one you'll be able to do a joke about.

Test me.

My nan died.

She had acute angina, if that helps?

I can't believe she's gone.

I thought she was going to live till she was a hundred.

Were you close?

Well, 94, I was only six years out.

I mean, to your nan.

Oh, I see. Yeah, I was always her favourite.

I was the only other person she'd let use her Stannah stairlift.

"Scream if you want to go faster."

Is there anything I can do?

No, it's fine. There must be something.

Like what?

Help choose the coffin?

What kind of funeral is it going to be? Cremation, I suppose.

You don't want to be spending much on the coffin.

How did she, er... you know?

She went in her sleep. Oh, I'm always doing that.

Oh, I see. Well, that's good, isn't it?

Well, not good, but I bet she was having a nice dream, as opposed to a nightmare about...

I'm sure she wasn't. I'll get you a whisky. I don't drink whisky.

- Yes, but it's whisky for bereavement, - gin for divorce,

Special Brew if you've been made homeless.

So did she say any last words?

She said, "Tell Harold I love him very much."

That was nice. Hang on, didn't he die years ago?

She was a bit confused at the end.

I don't think the nurse knew either.

She said, "Don't be silly dear, you'll be able to tell him yourself."

Must have come across a bit heartless.

We're out of whisky. Creme de Menthe?

Do you want a...? Course you don't.

Here's to Nan.

Oh, hello. That's sweet.

Isn't this the stuff that made Van Gogh go blind? No, that was Absinthe.

And he wasn't blind, he just didn't have anything to hook his glasses on to.

Nan used to like the occasional tipple.

She's probably up there now having a glass of port.

Yeah. Knowing Nan, she's probably having two.

Yeah. She's probably pissed.

Landlady.

Rent boy.

Well, I say rent.

I'm using the term loosely.

Well, I say lady.

You've had a visitor.

It wasn't pest control, was it?

I've had problems with mysterious wee-wee appearing all over the bathroom floor.

I've told you, you've got to start sitting down.

It was Tim.

That came round. Not peed on the floor.

He's had some bad news. His nan died.

Oh, no. That's terrible. Did you know her well?

Yeah, I met her a few times. She was always teasing me.

"You Americans were late joining the war. You shouldn't have let Hitler bomb our street.

"It's your fault my Harold's dead."

- She was a bit woohoo! Maybe I should - go and see him.

He's fine. You know what posh people are like.

His upper lip's stiffer than a Saudi jail sentence.

He's bound to be clammed up with you.

Why? Well, expressing emotion's not really your thing. Yes, it is. No, it's not.

You're not the type to settle down in front of a film with a box of tissues, are you? Well... Don't!

When was the last time

you expressed your emotions? When

we were watching Animal Hospital.

Emotion isn't shouting out, "No wonder he's crying, 80 quid to have a bloody cat put down."

I think you need to express your feelings.

You should see a therapist. Get lost.

Therapy's for Yuppies, Arseholes, Neurotics, Killers and Simpletons.

Or to give them their proper acronym - Yanks.

I know an acronym for another race of people.

I forget who they are, but they're Bigoted, Repressed, Inbred, Toothless and Smelly.

Oh, yeah, the French.

It's totally normal to see a therapist, you know.

I've seen one. So's Tim.

Has he? Yeah, he was having a hard time at work.

Did someone deface his Beauty Of The Cotswolds calendar?

I suggested therapy. He was in touch enough with his feelings to try.

Tim, the man who thinks Freud is how an Irishman has his eggs?

Oh, well, some people are just more

in touch with their emotions

than others.

We're not that different. You are.

You think writing a birthday card is a sign of homosexuality.

All right, I'll go. For one session.

Good. There's a therapist in town who's supposed to be brilliant.

How could she not be? She's Californian.

- Another one. - I see what my Aunt Gladys meant now.

"They're overpaid, oversexed and over here."

Still, it didn't bother her, she was a prostitute.

Bit moreish, this creme de menthe.

I was going to get your favourite. Sex On A Beach.

I don't really drink that any more.

It's too cold in this country for Sex On A Beach.

I could get you a glass of Fumble In The Airing Cupboard.

I'm really sorry about your nan, Tim.

She was a real...

eccentric.

Remember that time when we

went round and she was stood at the

gate with her slippers on. Yeah.

Nothing else, just her slippers.

One on each ear.

I felt bad about not giving her the great-grandchild she always wanted.

What about your brother's kids?

She didn't want them. They're horrible.

The last time they saw her

they spelled out the word "euthanasia" with her half-sucked Werther's Originals.

Thanks for being a shoulder to cry on, Kate.

Yeah, I figured Lee was probably about as much use as a chocolate teacake.

You mean chocolate teapot.

That doesn't make sense. It would melt.

It's sort of like he's lost touch with his emotions, like they moved

and didn't send him a forwarding address.

No, that was his mum.

Anyway, I've sent him for re-programming.

I just hope he's taking it seriously.

I'm being chased and I'm running and I look down and I'm running through treacle

and to make matters worse, I haven't even got any trousers on.

And how often do you have this dream?

It's not a dream, it's what happened when I was working in a sweet factory.

Just after I was caught having it off with the boss's daughter.

It's a joke.

Tough crowd. Do you find yourself telling lots of jokes when you're with women?

It's an ice-breaker, isn't it?

I'll bring a pick-axe next time.

What about them? Do you like it when women say things that make you laugh? Yeah.

It's not vital, though.

As long as they're not just

staring at me and making me feel odd.

What else do you like women to say?

I like them saying lots of things.

Give me one. Yeah, I like that.

Why would you like it if a woman said, "Give me one"?

I wouldn't. It was a joke.

Do you find it funny because it sounds like, "Will you have sexual intercourse with me?"

Yeah, but it's the way you tell them, obviously.

And is there a woman in your life that you enjoy sharing a joke with at the moment?

No.

Well, there's Kate.

Tell me about Kate.

She's, er... five foot seven.

No, no, no, tell me ABOUT Kate.

All right, she's ABOUT five foot seven.

What can I say. She's my best mate's ex.

Do you like her? She's all right.

She's my favourite American in the whole wide world

according to the monkey that makes me muffins and leaves me notes in the morning.

Do you get along?

Yeah, when he's not looking in my

hair for nits and flicking poo at me.

Not the monkey. Kate.

We don't argue, apart from silly things.

"Get your hands out of your undies, stop playing with your tackle."

Fair enough, you should hear the things she says to me.

Let me know if you like any of these jokes. You could nod or give me a patronising smile.

Did your mother used to tell you jokes?

Oh, here we go. Here-we-go what?

All the Mum-fancying stuff.

I never said anything about fancying your mother.

Are you saying she's ugly?

Is she?

Or was that a joke?

What do you think?

I'll tell you what I think.

You might be using laughter as a way of repressing emotions.

A jocular nature is often a defence mechanism

in people who are unwilling or unable to express their true feelings.

And thus they resort to humour. This whole double-act thing isn't really working out, is it?

It's strange when someone dies, isn't it?

I've started feeling guilty about all sorts of silly things.

Breaking an ornament and not telling her, stealing one of her cigarettes,

painting a moustache on her face when she was asleep.

Tim, you were just a child.

The moustache thing was last Christmas.

I was a bit tipsy.

I drew a goatee on Auntie Janice as well.

Nan's death has made me realise.

I don't really appreciate the special things in life

until they're gone.

Sorry, I've said too much.

I've still got half a box set of Little House On The Prairie to watch

and those Pot Noodles don't rehydrate themselves.

Hey, you shouldn't be eating on your own tonight. Eat with us.

Us? Yeah. Me and Lee. Oh, right. "Us" - that's an interesting word.

Yes, but you think "spreadsheets" is an interesting word.

Come on.

Right, all hands on deck.

As the pervert said at the Byker Grove convention.

Make yourself useful.

Reduce that sauce.

There you go.

I remember Nan letting me help her in the kitchen.

I used to love it. The warm, rosy glow of an Aga,

me in my favourite Winnie The Pooh apron,

the recipe book opened up at

Fanny Craddock's Swirly Meringues.

Nan covering the budgie in melted chocolate, rolling it in hundreds and thousands,

and saying, "Anyone for a budgie choc ice?"

She'd just started to lose it at that point.

I remember when my nan used to cook

and I used to press my nose up against the keyhole

and breathe in the smell of burning hair as she was singeing the bristles off the pigs' shins.

Do you think I should include the budgie story in my eulogy?

You're doing a eulogy? Yeah.

It's just a silly poem I've written.

I won't read it. I don't want to bore you. OK. Another drink?

No, go on. Go ahead. Read it. I'd like that.

OK.

"Sewing the nametag in my choirboy uniform

"Making ginger beer to share in the prefects' dorm

"Teaching me grown-up things - white wine in the fridge

"Butterfly collecting, rowing and bridge

"And you always joined in, no knitting like a spinster

"Pony rides together, a trip to York Minster or Henley Regatta

"There'll never be another, I miss you already

"You're my grandmother."

Well, you certainly had a tough childhood.

That's beautiful.

I remember when my nan died. I wrote a poem for her. Did you?

Yeah. Go on, then, let's hear it.

"There was an old woman called Nan

"And I was her number-one fan..."

You didn't, really, did you? No. Everyone's going to be very moved.

Everyone who I've ever been close to is going to be there.

Well, almost everyone.

When is it?

That wasn't a hint. I'm fine going on my own.

Tuesday, 3.30.

Where is it? Kate, what you're doing is really sweet.

- I don't I deserve to have you being - picked up by me at two o'clock,

Then being dropped here by five, 5.30 latest.

It's not necessary. I'll set the table.

Careful. What's that supposed to mean?

I'm just saying.

You know. No, I don't know.

Well, he's emotional.

You're sympathetic. Make sure it's for the right reasons. "It"?

Come on, express yourself.

Let's see if the therapy helped.

A funeral can be emotional.

He'll going to see them carrying the old...

and then he's going to... you know.

You'll be doing all that...

and it'll be a bit of that...

and before you know it...

I think maybe you just might need one more session.

Laugh all you like, right, but ask yourself this,

would you go to the funeral if his nan hadn't died?

HE HUMS "Loving You" by Minnie Riperton

HUMS MORE OF THE TUNE

STARTS HUMMING TUNE AGAIN

HUMS MORE OF THE TUNE

HIGH-PITCHED HUMMING

What are you doing?

I've been asked to pick a song for Nan's funeral.

I just can't seem to choose one.

What was she like?

I mean, when she was the full shilling, before she got like, mentally ill and lost it.

You have such a gift for words.

Are you available to engrave the headstone?

She was completely normal.

She spent most of her life

in Henley,

she lived in a semi-detached house,

she was a member of the local Neighbourhood Watch.

How do you summarise that in a song?

It's a toss up between Anarchy In The UK or Ice T's Cop Killer.

Nan used to love Ice T.

Sip it on the veranda, did she?

With her cucumber sandwiches.

No, the first album, Ain't No Ho Gonna Pimp My Bitch.

Think I might talk to Kate about it.

She's quite good about music.

Yeah, it's strange, we've been getting on quite well recently.

It doesn't bother you, does it, that she's coming to the funeral?

Of course it doesn't. I was just wondering why you didn't invite me.

I presumed it wouldn't be your thing. How can it not be?

There's free sandwiches, free booze and grieving birds knocking around...

I'm talking about members of your family, I'm so sorry.

I should have asked you. Do you want to come?

No, it's fine. I never met your nan.

- Don't worry. You're not - going to be expected to talk to her.

It's fine, honestly. I find them all a bit depressing.

That's the problem with funerals.

They promise laughs, but let you down.

They don't have to be miserable affairs.

In some parts, they leave the body out to be eaten by vultures.

Well, there's no vultures in Henley.

And I'm not going

through that again.

Those sparrows took four weeks to finish off Grandad.

What will you do when you die?

I'm going to donate my body to science. Keep my dad happy.

He always wanted me to go to medical school.

I'll have my head removed and have it cryogenically stored in liquid gas.

Keep my dad happy. Why?

He worked in the freezer department at Asda.

Do you know, sometimes it can be quite embarrassing being out with you.

People who have problems expressing

their emotions often look

for other ways

to occupy themselves rather

than address their inner conflicts.

As a therapist, my job is to try and find out what exactly these diversions or jokes are hiding.

Grief.

Anger.

Love.

You might want to put this

reclining thing on a slower setting.

Right.

Where were we? It's important to

release the inner tension correctly.

I'm repressing I'm in love with

someone? I'm talking about the chair.

Are you in love with someone? No. That was a very quick answer.

Well, I'm paying you by the minute, I didn't want to hang around.

Do you mind if we talk about Kate again?

I'm perfectly happy to talk about Kate.

The floor's all yours.

The prices you charge, I think I own half your windows as well.

Well, what do you want to know?

Does she like you? I think so. As a friend.

Is it a special relationship?

Only the way Thatcher had with Reagan. Nothing more than that?

No cruise missiles involved, if that's what you mean.

Does the cruise missile...?

Yes, represent a penis. It was a joke.

Can we talk about something else?

We can, but aren't we ignoring the elephant in the room?

The elephant is an idiom.

Is that the one with the big or the small ears?

I think it's time you sat down and had a proper talk with Kate.

You can do it.

As long as you pick the right moment.

We are here to celebrate her life, not mourn her death.

Although, of course, it is always a painful time when someone we love is taken from us.

Let us think of the friends and family that she leaves behind.

At this most difficult and painful of times.

TINNY MUSIC PLAYS "Celebration" by Kool And The Gang

I'm so sorry about your loss.

So what brought on this little visit?

It was obviously last minute.

Didn't have time to put your black denims on.

I've got black underpants on.

I think the idea is to wear clothes that started out black.

So what made you come?

You know what they say. A friend in need is a friend in Leeds.

I'm so sorry about your loss.

Gosh, it's so weird seeing everyone again. They're all here.

Uncle Syngen, Aunt Flossy, Nana Boo.

They can't be real names?

Where are they from? Mordor?

Nana Boo? Shhh. She's just had a heart attack recently.

I'm not surprised people coming up to her all her life and saying Boo.

I'm so sorry.

I mean, thanks.

Try and look a sad, and less like a funeral-crashing sausage collector.

Kate, there's something I want to talk to you about.

Yeah.

Go on.

Hi. Hey, Tim!

How's is hanging? I mean, sorry about your loss.

Sorry I've been gone a while.

I was wheeling Auntie Janice around the lavender garden. She's nodded off.

This party's really starting to kick off, isn't it?

How you feeling, Tim? I think I might have overdone the creme de menthe.

I'm feeling rather giddy in a minty sort of way.

Still, it's unblocking my nose.

Down in one.

It's like being on a stag do with Liberace, this.

Can you get me another one? Kate?

Could I get an Aqua Positano mineral water, in a tall glass with some ice and a slice of lime, please? Yep.

Tap water it is.

Your eulogy was lovely.

Thanks. I had to have a bit of the old mint sauce for Dutch courage.

I hope it's not obvious I was tipsy.

Come on, who doesn't like the Mexican wave?

Nan's death has put everything into perspective for me, Kate.

I'm tired of... holding back. I want to go for it.

It's time to play the music,

- it's time to light the lights, it's - time to get things started.

That's The Muppets, isn't it?

I suppose what I'm trying to say, Kate, is... do you want to come back to mine later?

Tim, going back to your place right now would be like riding an emotional rollercoaster.

Hold on tight. Welcome to Alton Towers!

That was a no.

Everybody off.

Tim, what we had was in the past. We're not getting back together.

Now is not the time for doing something silly.

Well, I warned your Auntie Maureen that wouldn't get a laugh.

Have you not done this before?

You're looking for that big hole below your nose.

Are you all right? Course I'm all right.

My nan's dead, been knocked back by my ex,

and my best mate's pretending to be my uncle's wife. I'm having the time of my life.

What, did you...?

Yes. But she said no.

You'd better go out and check she's all right.

OK. Just remember, Tim, that whatever happens, you'll always be my best mate.

It's all one big false act with you, isn't it? What do you mean?

You pretend you don't care about anyone but yourself.

You give the game away by coming here and saying that.

Come here, you big bear.

You really have been on the loopy juice, haven't you?

Just to help toast Nan. You mean...?

Don't do a cremation joke.

You're right. We should say what we feel about each other.

Do you know what you are? Uncomfortable and squashed.

A council house. Oh, well, close.

On the exterior you're all cheap bricks and discarded nappies.

You've tried to improve yourself, stuck on stone cladding, you've bought a brass knocker from B&Q.

But there's no escaping it,

on the outside you still come across

as basic, two dimensional, functional, cheap housing.

I can't believe we don't speak like this more often.

But step inside the door.

Watch the pit bull. You know what's inside?

An old engine? Knock-off fags?

Despair?

A palace. Made of marble.

Full of princes and princesses milling around, talking about... gold.

There's a statue of a young cherub boy having a tinkle in the fountain.

And a tiger-skin rug on the floor that you shot with your own bare hands.

Not been in a council house before?

If you weren't such an untactile northerner, I'd kiss you.

You're a great chap.

Go on. You'd better check Kate's OK?

She's fine.

I'll stay here with you.

Keep you entertained.

Look at that, Mick Hucknell.

Timothy, I want a word with you.

Oh. Hi Auntie Janice.

So why don't we try and explore your deepest and innermost subconscious feelings.

Tell me, what do you like in a woman?

MIMICS MONKEY: Big, hairy and with their knuckles scraping along the ground.

And how long have you fancied my mum?

Please, tell me about your dreams.

MONKEY: I keep running but I'm being chased by the elephant -

I can't get away, because I've had one too many of Kate's cress and falafel muffins.

How many have you had?

MONKEY: One.

Oh, sorry, doctor. Hello.

Have you managed to figure out why our primate friend keeps wetting the bed?

Not yet. I wasn't talking to you.

So, did you get Tim home all right?

He managed to re-enamel the inside of his toilet bowl with creme de menthe.

At least his breath will smell nice.

So are you going to go and see him?

No, I've decided to put some space between us for a couple of days.

Providing none of his other elderly

relatives has bought the farm.

What does that mean? It's an American expression for dying.

Oh, yeah, that makes sense.

You bunch of freaks.

I know, we're all crazy!

Why don't we just say something logical like "kick the bucket" or "popped your clogs" or...

"choke the chicken"?

Oh, no, I forgot, that means...

Not in front of the monkey.

Was there something you wanted to tell me at the funeral?

Nah, it's nothing. It can wait.

Maybe another time.

Yeah.

So, no more therapy, huh? Nah.

Different technique. It's called "getting a grip".

It used to be quite big in the seventies

before being a nutter became fashionable.

Hope this doesn't mean a return

- to the old emotionally-constipated - Lee? Not at all.

I borrowed Little House On The Prairie from Tim.

Let's watch Mary go blind.

Should I get a box of tissues?

No, I don't want to end up like Mary.

♪ We are not going out. ♪