All language subtitles for Not Going Out s08e05 Charlie.eng

? 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. ?

Charlie's got his school report.

It's brilliant.

Shouldn't I be the one getting the kiss?

We're switching things around this year.

You get put in a box
and stored in the attic.

With the others(!)

A. A. A.

He's got the Scouse hat trick.

Hang on, what's this?

"Miss Anstis, English, C."

We don't want all As, do we?

We don't want to have to start
doing a paternity test.

"Despite reasonable grades,

"I am concerned that Charlie is in danger
of becoming the class clown."

Oh, ignore her. Miss Anstis is a bit...
uptight.

We need to go and see her, find
out what Charlie has been up to.

We?

Schooling is usually my thing,

like getting rid of spiders
and keeping the kids alive.

I get involved in school stuff.

I helped raise money with that cake stall.

Helping is baking and selling,
not buying and eating.

- I'm not kidding, Lucy.
- OK, fine.

We'll go and pick up Charlie
together tomorrow and go and see

Miss Anstis, but I'm telling
you now he's absolutely fine.

Tell me that when he's living
under a bridge sniffing glue.

I just about tolerate
those Haircut 100 albums,

but will you please update
your drug references?

I missed those little toilets.

Oh, bring back memories of school days?

No, I mean literally missed them.
It went everywhere.

Yeah, all right!

Have you tried to pee
and crouch at the same time?

Yeah. I wonder what that must be like(!)

Mum, I'm just going to see Izzy.

That's sweet.

Yeah, and yet when I do that to women...

Right, come on, we need to get
to Florence Nightingale.

The classrooms - they're all named
after British historical figures.

What happened to classrooms
having numbers, and canes,

and little piles of sawdust
covering up sick?

Well, things have changed,

which you'd have noticed if you were
a bit more involved in school life.

I am involved.

Excuse me, I'm looking
for my son's teacher, Miss Anstis.

I am Miss Anstis.

Sorry, didn't recognise you
without your... cakes.

- Wait here. No messing about.
- OK.

- I was talking to Charlie.
- Right.

I knew we shouldn't have touched
that bottle that said "drink me".

So, er, Charlie's school report?

I'm afraid Charlie does have a tendency

to draw attention to himself.

Today, for example, he disrupted
lessons by coughing.

Coughing?

She means on purpose, Lucy.
It's a classroom classic.

They were doing that back in my day.

Back in your day they probably had TB.

Charlie was trying
to make the class laugh.

He does that sort of thing a lot.

Do you know what he called me
last week instead of Miss Anstis?

Miss... Ant's Tits?

No. He called me Morag.

- Well, that's not nice.
- That's my name.

Obviously he found out and decided
to say it for silly, comic effect,

and I think it's disrespectful.

Course it is, and just now when I said...

...ant's tits.

Just because your name sounds like...

- Not saying you've got, you know...
- Fingers on lips.

I've tried to explain to Charlie

that it'll be him
that suffers in the long run.

Course it will, Miss AnSTIS.

For instance, we're about to be
visited by the children's author

Johnny Lucas for a storytelling contest.

Each class selects
a child to read a story.

The winning school gets
�1,000 worth of books

and the winning child
gets a trip to Legoland.

I was considering Charlie
to read for our class.

Oh, that's great.

As I say... WAS.

I'm afraid Charlie's story
just went for cheap laughs

and was entirely inappropriate.

Perhaps I should read a little bit to you.

I must warn you,
the language is very vivid

and you may deem it
unsuitable for a child.

Oh, well, at least he's written a warning.

"'Hooray, ' cried the little boy,

"as the witch was bludgeoned to death
when the woodsman smashed up

"her stupid, ugly, smelly face
that looked like a cow's bum."

"Bludgeoned." That's a good word.

"Then the little boy took
the woodsman's axe and chopped

"the stupid witch's stinky,
old, fat, blobby body up

"and put her in the pot of boiling water."

I blame Heston Blumenthal.

"One by one he threw the bleeding
body parts into the cauldron."

Cauldron spelled with two Os.

"First he threw in her fat arms,

"then he threw in her horrible
hairy legs, then he threw in her

"stinky, slimy intestines,

"and her massively monstrous butt cheeks.

"Then, finally, he threw in...

"her foo-foo."

How many Os in foo-foo?

OK, look, so his story was a bit
rough around the edges,

but he's seven. He's not TS Eliot.

I know he's not. I'm not an idiot.

No-one expects him to be as good as her.

Didn't you hear it?

Chopping up her gizzards
and cutting off her legs?

Who cares? She's a witch.

It's not like he kidnapped
the local choirgirl,

put cigarettes out on her arms,
then buried her in a shallow grave.

Where does Charlie get his dark side from?

Look, are you bothered that he's trying
to be the class clown?

What about the, you know, foo-foo?

OK, maybe that was a bit silly,

but it's our fault for teaching
him such childish words.

Yeah, let's teach him
some adult terms for it,

then he can start doing stag dos(!)

Half the world's got one, Lee.

Why is society so scared
of it when we talk about it?

The problem is we live
in a patriarchal society.

- Bollocks.
- See? You don't mind mentioning those.

A Nancy?

You are a doctor and you call it a Nancy?

It's my parents' fault.

They were a bit Victorian
in their attitudes.

As far as they were concerned,
it was called a Nancy.

It was a terrible thing
full of teeth and monsters.

Still, at least I was prepared
when I met Anna.

Bet you never mucked
about at school, did you?

Oh, I wouldn't have dared.

It was a boarding school.

Cold showers and ritual beatings.

Yeah, but look where it got you.

Yeah, married to Anna - cold
showers and ritual beatings.

I mean, you've got a really good job.
I bet your Jack toes the line.

He'll end up doing a really important job,

like Prime Minister or TV weatherman.

You've got quite a limited idea
of important jobs, haven't you?

Stop worrying. What's so wrong
about being a bit of a class clown?

Because I don't want him to end up like...

Well, like me.

I thought you were proud
of your background?

School of hard knocks. Ferret
and dripping for breakfast.

O-levels in greyhound management.

I didn't get any O-levels, actually.

Whilst you were
off to your fancy university,

hobnobbing with the toffs, I went
to work in a biscuit factory.

Well, you were sort of hobnobbing.

Look, why don't you sit
down with Lucy and tell her in a calm

and sensible way that you're worried
that Charlie might end up like you?

As soon as she imagines
that apocalyptic scenario,

she'll have to see sense.

So what did you call a Nancy
when you were growing up?

Well, I don't know
about your other O-levels,

but I can see why you failed biology.

What's in the box?

I've been up in the attic to get
some of my old school reports.

Can you come and sit
next to me for a minute?

Why, is there a spider in there?

This is the report I got
when I was Charlie's age.

Read the summary on the final page.

"Sooner or later Lee will learn
that joking around will get him nowhere."

So? We all went through a cheeky
phase at school.

I sometimes used to use a blue
pen instead of a black one.

And this was two years later.

"Lee is a mediocre student
with a mediocre future.

"I look forward to the day
when his unamusing antics are

"a burden to someone else."

And this was when I was 15.

- This isn't a school report.
- Exactly.

It's my clocking-in card
from the biscuit factory.

I wondered why it had jam on it.

That's not jam.

It's blood, from the wearing down of me
fingers as I toiled for hours

on a very tiny wage,
in the brutal, harsh conditions

of a Northern factory.

- It's jam, isn't it?
- Yes, it's jam, but the point is...

...I'd ruined any chance
of a future all by the age of 15,

just by mucking around and I do NOT
want that to happen to Charlie.

No.

Oh, maybe you're right.

I think we should sit
down and talk to him.

OK.

Charlie is always saying, "When
I grow up I want to be like me dad."

And I've told him, "Sorry,
son, you can't do both."

You're not in trouble, Charlie.

Course not.

We just want to know why
you're being silly at school.

Cos you're bored in class?

Is it because you like being funny?

When she said class clown I didn't
realise she meant Marcel Marceau.

Maybe you're mucking about because

you want someone
in particular to like you?

Izzy, maybe?

Mucking about is not how you
impress girls, Charlie. Trust me.

You don't want to end up like...

like a boy that was at my school.

He was the class joker,
until he got suspended.

- Suspended?
- What did he do?

Yeah, what did he do?

Well, this... boy...

...was in science class

and he was supposed
to do a big presentation

about... flammable gases.

But instead of just reading
out what he was supposed to read,

he decided to muck
about and do a sort of...

practical experiment.

What do you mean?

Well, it just so happens
he had a Zippo lighter

and a bellyful of baked beans.

He lit his fart! That's SOOO cool!

No, Charlie, it is not cool,
especially given what happened.

What?

Put it this way, there was more...

...solid than gas.

Urgh!

- Not cool.
- Exactly.

The point is, this kid,
he had a lot of potential.

He could have done so many things,

but instead he ended up ruining his life

and his trousers.

I'm sorry that happened to you, Dad.

What? I'm not talking about me.
It wasn't me.

Dad, I'm seven. I'm not a moron.

You don't have to be embarrassed...

- ...just because you pooed your pants.
- Please stop talking.

The point is, there are other
ways to impress girls,

like being chosen to read
a story to a famous author.

Look, we just want you to be
happy, son, because we love you.

OK, Dad, from now on I'm going
to do my best to be good.

Good lad, Charlie.

We've been married
for quite a few years now,

but what you did just then,
what you told Charlie...

...is the most disgusting
thing I've ever heard!

I was hoping to catch you.

I'm not sure what it is you said
to Charlie, but over the last few days

he's shown a marked
improvement in his behaviour.

I even insisted he write a brand-new
story, and I'm pleased to inform you

that it contains no unnecessary
language, or female genitalia.

Oh, well, there goes the Channel 4 deal.

In fact, as a reward for such
a turnaround in his behaviour,

I've selected Charlie as class
representative to read

to our visiting author.

Oh, my God! That's fantastic!

Isabella Jenkins, young ladies
do not lick boys' faces.

Yeah. Get him to buy you a drink first.

Izzy has got a new friend, Jake McKenzie.

She thinks I'm boring now.

Well, she's not going to think
that when she sees you on that stage

reading a story to Johnny Lucas, is she?

The new story isn't
as funny as the other one.

I'm sure it's brilliant.

- In fact, why don't you read it to us now?
- Yeah, good idea.

It'll be like a rehearsal for the big day.

"Once upon a time there was a little boy
who met a witch and the

"witch was very naughty,
even though she knew

it was wrong to be naughty.

"The little boy was very good
and always helped his mother with

"the dishes, never ate sweets
or watched violent cartoons.

"One day the boy was walking
through the woods...

"...so the witch was told
that for hygiene reasons she must

"always wash her hands thoroughly,
especially after using the bathroom,

"so she washed them and also
made sure not to splash water

"on the floor when she dried her hands...

"...and the witch and the woodsman
got married and lived in the cottage

"and she promised to never
be naughty ever again

"and they lived happily ever after.
The end."

I said, "The end."

Oh, what a fantastic story, son.

You don't think it's a bit... boring?

No.

- Izzy is going to think you are so cool.
- OK, if you say so.

Right, who wants to watch YouTube
videos of old people falling

down escalators?

No, it's OK. I'm going to tidy my room.

Oh, he's probably just a bit tired.

Funnily enough, I'm not.

Must have been that refreshing
ten-minute nap I had

during that story.

- Hello?
- 'Where the hell are you?'

- His reading starts in about ten minutes.
- Anna's stuck in traffic.

What do you want me to do, leave
our five-year-old twins on their own?

No, Lee, that was a rhetorical question.

- How's Charlie?
- Moping around like Morrissey on Mogadon.

Look, I'll get there
as soon as I can, OK? Bye.

The twins let me in.
I could have been anyone.

I could have been an axe murderer.

You still might. Don't give up the dream.

Oh, Anna, look at this.

Lee wrote it when we first
started going out properly.

"Roses are red, violets are purples,

"If I give you a quid will you
show me your nurples?"

What are nurples?

You've got two of them.

En-suite bathrooms?

Lee is so hard on himself,
and on Charlie, but you know what?

It was Lee's joking around all the time

that made me like him in the first place.

Well, I didn't think it
was his good looks, or his job

or his taste in clothes or his breath.

This is no fun if you don't join in.

I've got to go. Thanks, Anna.

So immature.

Show starts in five minutes.

Just because this
is extra-curriculum doesn't mean

that I'll tolerate tardiness.

Is my story really good, Dad?

Course it is, son. You're
going to take the roof off.

Like grandad did to that church

when he got in trouble with the police?

Good luck, son.

Oops, busted. Want one?

No, I'm all right, thanks. Never my thing.

I used to have a much more
disgusting habit as a teenager

but I'm down to ten-a-day now.

Johnny. Johnny Lucas.

Oh, right. The author.

You looking forward to judging
what the kids have written?

Honestly? Not really, no.

No, these kids' stories
are always so bloody boring.

Sometimes I think some of these
teachers are just knocking

all the fun out of them, you know?

It's like the kids have lost
the art of just being silly.

Yeah, but being silly doesn't
get you anywhere, does it?

Well, I don't know.

It's all I've ever done, muck
around, write silly stories.

Not done me any harm.

Even got me this - a key
to a Bentley Continental.

Should write another book. You
might get the actual car.

Oh, gotta go. Old Morag looks
like a right ball-breaker, eh?

Oh, thank God.
I've been thinking about Charlie.

Me too.

- Being silly, it's not all bad, is it?
- No.

It's what attracted me to you
in the first place, you know,

the daft jokes.

- Not the good looks and the charm, then?
- See, that kind of thing.

Will all parents please
take their seats now?

- Come on, then. Let's get this over with.
- Hang on.

Our baby boy is about to go on stage
and tell the most boring story

since your mum thought she had shingles

but it turned out to be the wicker chair.

So, what can we do?

I know.

If you're using the toilets again

would you please be
more careful this time?

Our caretaker was mopping for hours!

Mate, I'm looking
for a classroom called, um...

Oh, what's it called?

You know, woman, nice to soldiers.

I want to say Joanna Lumley.

Oh, forget it.

Right, now, this is storytelling,

and I want you to bring
these stories to life,

and you are the audience.

So if you want to laugh, laugh.
If you want to cry, cry.

And, remember, one lucky little brat
is going to get a free trip

to Legoland, and that's not fair
on the rest of you, is it, yeah?

So if you don't like it,
give 'em hell, yeah?

Just kidding, you know.

Just, er, let's try and keep
it fairly sensible.

Now, before we start,
who'd like to hear a poem about poo?

Yeah!

Oh, God.

"'Zap, zap' went the alien warship,

"as the space captain steered
through the astro-belt.

"Would the alien fleet capture
this heroic spaceman,

"torture him and kill him?"

We can but hope.

Jake McKenzie?

"Trapped in quicksand.
Quick, grab that vine."

(Charlie. Charlie.)

Indoor voices!

Where did you get that?

I just found it... in your desk.

Look, what if I Tippex over the foo-foo?

My boy is about to walk
out there and humiliate himself

by telling a really, really boring story.

Charlie's a good kid.

OK, sometimes he's a bit silly,
but that's not always a bad thing.

Don't let him walk on that stage
and make a fool of himself.

Please, I am begging you.

I hope Ofsted downgrade
you to "satisfactory".

Now, next up we have Florence
Nightingale class and it's Charlie.

"Once upon a time there was a little boy
who met a witch and the witch

"was very naughty, even though she knew
it was wrong to be naughty."

Boo!

Sorry.

"The little boy was very good,
and always helped his mother with

"the dishes, and never ate sweets
or watched violent cartoons."

Boring!

"One day the boy was walking
through the woods and he met a woodsman."

"And the woodsman told the boy
all about endangered wildlife

"and about how certain
flowers have gone extinct

"and that people should start
putting their litter in the bin."

Get off!

Right, that's it.

"They asked the witch
if she wanted to be their friend

"so they shouted
over to the witch and said..."

Hello, witchy, you manky
grotbag of pig's wee!

What are you doing here?

What are you doing here, "Woodsman"?

What are you doing here, Woodsman?

Don't you remember? The witch
was full of useful advice.

She said it's important
to be a good little boy,

but it's also important to be
yourself and have a sense of humour.

And the little boy thought,
"Yes, the witch is right,"

and so he asked his daddy to come
on stage and cause trouble

at the book reading the boy
was doing at his school.

(Finally, a bit of theatre.)

And the dad said, "No chance.

"I'm not getting on stage
and making a fool of myself,

"just so you can win a trip to Legoland

"..and there's nothing you can do about it

"even if you do know a witch
with magical powers."

Oh.

And so the wicked witch waved her
wand and said to the woodsman,

"You're totally under my power."

"Oh, no," said the woodsman,

"I hope you're not going to make
me do anything stupid."

And then the wicked witch
cast a spell on the woodsman

and suddenly he was hopping
about on one leg...

...which the woodsman found easy.

Not so easy when the witch
made his trousers fall down.

Then the wicked, evil
witch cast another spell

and suddenly the woodsman was doing
an impression of a chicken.

And the woodsman reminded
the boy that he had an axe

so not to push it.

And then the witch made the woodsman...

set fire to his fart.

Now this I've got see.

Ah, yes, but unfortunately
the woodsman had nothing to use

as a flame, so that idea
was immediately abandoned.

Here you go, woodsman.

Oh, God!

I think you may have just
won yourself �1,000 worth

of library books. Bravo!

More!

No.

Well, that was certainly
a memorable performance,

especially for Jake in the front row.

I think you singed
the poor boy's eyebrows.

Are you still sulking?

I can't believe that Charlie is taking
Izzy to Legoland and not me.

I helped him win, at the risk
of blowing my own trumpet.

Still, they all lived happily ever after.

The end.

Well done.

It's important that he listens
to his teachers, but we have to

make sure we also don't forget
he's a normal seven-year-old.

Exactly, and we have
to let him act like one.

Can you smell matches?

- Charlie!
- Charlie!

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