All language subtitles for White.gold.S01E05.WaLMaRT.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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The most important thing for you
kids to know is that this

divorce is not your fault.

Agreed. It's definitely not your fault.

Whose fault is it then?

Doesn't have to be
anyone's fault, you know?

I just want to know who to
blame for ruining my life.

I mean what if a mum, or let's
say a dad, had an affair...

would the divorce be all their fault?

- No.
- Yes! It bloody well would!

- Do not be bitter in front of the
children, remember? - Sorry.

Look, sweetheart, there are loads
of reasons why couples break up.

Yeah, just not in this case.

I'm not a mug, Dad. I've
had enough of your crap.

Robbie. You all right, mate?

Rob, it's really important, babe,
that you share all of your feelings

in regards to the
break-up of your family.

Tell him, Vincent.

Do you know what I think
would make you feel a lot better

about this divorce?
How about an Atari games console?

Oh, yes, please! Skills!

The book says not to bribe.

Books are overrated.

I feel better now. Thanks, Dad.

Right, well, I shall be on my way.

Why do you always have to be
such an arsehole?

Because without arseholes, Samantha,
shit would never get done.

_

Sometimes when a Mum and a Dad
fall out of love,

it's better for everyone if they
stop being husband and wife

and start living in different houses.

Which is why I now live in a flat
Ronnie Farrell used to rent out

to a dominatrix.

Hello.

Is Mistress Trixie available?

Mistress Trixie doesn't live here
any more, all right.

Oh, OK. Who does then?

Look, mate, I'm really not
in the mood for this.

- Why not?
- Why not?!

Because I'm getting divorced.

Because I owe the taxman
50 fucking grand.

Because I've gone from being
salesman of the century

to a schlub who can't sell shit.

But mainly because I spend my entire
fucking life on this phone

talking to perverts like you.

I'm sorry, sounds like you've got
a lot on your plate.

You don't fancy 20 quid and let me
fuck you hard up the arse, do ya?

Come on, mate, have some
fucking decency, yes?

- Tenner for a blowjob?
- I'm hanging up.

Sync & corrections by emeline-whovian
www.MY-SUBS.com

You have two new messages.

Oh, hello, Mr Swan.
My name's Emma Lyndsey.

My neighbours have been complaining
about the cries of passion

and ecstasy coming from my bedroom,
so I was hoping you could pop over

and soundproof my windows.

A double glazing-based
sex fantasy. She's a keeper.

Mr Swan. It's Abigail Barnes, your
favourite government employee here.

Just a call to let you know we've
fixed a date for your case hearing.

May 29th.

So that's a whole six weeks
to come up with £50,000.

- Fuck. Fucking fuck!
- Have a nice day.

What now?

Vincent? It's Brian. Can I come up?

This place is nice.

Let's cut the small talk bollocks.
Why are you here?

Look, I just came round to try and
make things right between us.

And before you say anything,
I'm not trying to get my job back.

Good, because you're not fucking
getting it back. Ever.

Like I said, just...

came to apologise and hopefully in
time you'll be able to forgive me.

So...

thanks for listening.

Right. Well, off you fuck then.

Right.

Oh, there was one more thing,

would it be all right if I pop by
the showroom, just to pick up

a few bits and pieces,
say goodbye to the team properly?

No-one gives a shit about you
but it's a free country.

Thanks, Vincent.

Good night mate, ah...

With its haunting aroma of stale
sex and 24-hour pervert hotline,

Trixie's flat felt like purgatory.
I had to get out.

It was so bad that even a sofa
that smelt of Walshy's

arse-crack felt like an upgrade.

Hello? Hello?

Shit! Fucking Walshy.

Hello?

I'm coming up. I warn you!

I'm armed!

I guess I could've told Walshy I was
sleeping in the office

but if you're about to tap
someone up for 50 grand,

it's probably best not to do it in
last night's piss stained Y-fronts.

Fucking hell, Vincent!
You could knock...

Sorry, Mum, but before you send me to my
room, I'm getting straight to the point.

It's about time you made me a partner.

And don't give me any grief, all right.
I've already made you a mint.

No, no, I think you being
a partner's a great idea.

Yeah?

Too right. Have a seat.

I've been looking for someone
to invest in the business.

How much were you
thinking of putting in?

More like what I was looking
to take out. Namely, me.

See, I was thinking to keep me motivated

for the foreseeable future,

the business could invest in me
to the tune of 50 grand.

How does that sound?

Un-fucking likely. You're not going
to quit and we both know it.

What we both do know is without me
you'd have lost

that disgusting shirt on your hairy
fucking back by now.

That was before your recent
personal problems.

You ain't selling shit
at the moment, boy.

Sales have dipped, granted,

but that's more due to a
downturn in consumer confidence,

- market forces.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

You tell yourself whatever
bollocks you like,

bottom line is our consumers
have lost confidence in you.

So unless you start
selling windows for me,

the only thing you'll get
from me is a fucking P-45!

Now, are we done here?

I need a shit.

How come you look so fucking cheerful?

Guess who just reeled in a big one?

Congrats, mate.

What was it, your first conservatory?

Bit bigger, and smells of piss more.

You've lost me.

I've just landed us the contract
for the refurbishment

of the old people's home
on Wickford Road.

Fucking 42 windows and 12 doors.

This old mate of mine from
Chelmsford Grammar

works for the council and he made
sure the order came our way.

Fuck me. That's incredible news.

If this goes well we could end up on the
council's list of approved suppliers.

I'll go give Walshy the glad tidings.

Hold your horses.

Now, congrats on the Old Girls
network coming through,

but strictly speaking this
is a commercial deal,

and as such it has to go through
the commercial sales arm.

What? What fucking commercial
sales arm?!

No-one's ever mentioned
a commercial sales arm.

Vincent Swan, head of commercial
sales at your service.

Now, don't worry, I'll make sure
you get a nice finders bonus.

I'd better go give Walshy
the glad tidings.

And look, mate, I'm sorry,
I don't make the rules.

I know, I do make the rules.

And that was a dick move. Even for me.

Walshy! Stop tugging on that pencil
dick and prepare to be happy.

Hello, Millman Young.

Hi, it's Sam Swan. I've got
a meeting with Little Prick.

I mean, Andrew Davis.

Sorry, was that Andrew Davis?

Yeah, Andrew Davis.

- Come in.
- OK.

Are you sure you should be here?

I told you, Vincent and I had
a little sit down, cleared the air.

Now take a seat, Carol.

In fact, Vincent practically
begged me to come by

and share with you
my life-changing news.

And I know you'll be amazed.

Please be a sex change.

Actually, no, this is better.

My name is Brian Fitzpatrick
and I used to be morbidly obese.

- No, you didn't.
- Can I just finish the presentation,

I'll answer questions afterwards?

I'm ashamed to say that before you
knew me I used to be a fat fuck,

as you can see from this picture
of me as a teenager.

Oh, my God! You've lost so much weight.

That's incredible!

And grown a different face.
That is incredible.

Can I have a closer look?

I think you'll find, Carol, that
most of the Nature-Burn Community

are unrecognisable once they lose
the weight.

You see, it's thanks to Nature-Burn's

supply of vitamin
supplements and diet pills

that I became the
slender man I am today.

And always have been.

Well, look, here's a little advance
on your commission.

That should keep the taxman off
your back for a bit.

Well done to Cachet's
Head Of Commercial Sales!

Who?

What the fuck is going on, Brian?

Well, I just popped by to pick up
a few things and then

the guys started peppering me with
questions about my new business venture.

No, you said Vincent was
begging you to tell us all

about your life-changing news.

I think what we need to focus on here

is that I have life-changing news.

I've had enough of this place.

Hang on, I was just about tell
you Nature-Burn's...

Shove your diet pills up your arse.

Well, unfortunately Nature-Burn
don't do suppositories,

but soon as they do, I'll happily
shove them up my arse.

Martin, mate, hold up,
let me buy you a pint.

So, these diet pills work then?
How much you charging?

£30 for a month's supply.

But I am running a one week's free
trial to get people hooked...

I mean, to get them on the road
to a healthier lifestyle.

I'm prepared to make that
exclusive one-time offer

exclusively to you, Tony.

What about me?

Well, I'm prepared to make
that exclusive one-time offer

exclusively to you as well, Carol.

Oh.

Thank you.

And one for you. We're celebrating.

Seriously, if you've just followed
me here to wind me up...

No, it's not like that.

I told you, I'm going to make sure
you get your cut from this deal.

Just has to go through
the right channels first.

The right channel being
your back pocket?

No, mate, it's not like...

You've got to be shitting me!

Congratulations, Sam.

If you thought going on a date with
Essex's answer to Jimmy Krankie

would wind me up, you were right.

Now, now, Vincent.
This isn't a date as such.

I'm happy to say I've just
hired Sam as my new PA

and this is a working lunch.
We're talking about her new duties.

Yeah, well, she doesn't
need a fucking job

so I suggest you look elsewhere!

Er, pipe down, Tarzan.

I'll be the one deciding
if I need a job.

I can provide for my family, Sam.

Sorry about this, Andrew. I just
need a minute, is that all right?

If you're such a great fucking provider

then why did the building
society call to say

- that we're behind on the mortgage?
- I'm sorting it.

Save me the bullshit, Vincent.

You're not capable of sorting
anything right now.

So please fuck off before I lose the
only source of income for my family.

Sorry about that.

We are not skint. Give that
to the fucking building society!

I think they might prefer a cheque
or a standing order, old chap.

Try and save some of that money, yeah?

You've got Robbie for the day tomorrow

and you'll need to buy him
something for his tea.

- Vincent?
- Yes, I know! I stole your deal, OK?

But I also said I would see you right,

like I have done these previous ten
months while you've sold jack shit,

so please, stop fucking crying about it.

Here.

That husband of yours is
tremendously entertaining.

Oi, shithead.

Those diet pills you're flogging.

They're basically just speed, right?

No way. I don't care what
Esther fucking Rantzen said

on That's Life, these are
bona fide health supplements,

not re-packaged Purple Hearts.

Well, I'm not buying any then.

No, no, no, no, wait, hang on.

All right, yeah, they're speed,
but they're 100% pure

and they're good shit.

Trust me, you'll be flying.

And boy did I need something to bring
the old Vincent Swan mojo back.

My whole shitting world
was falling apart.

And it wasn't only Walshy and
Little Prick taking advantage

of my recent dip in performance.

Brrm, brrm, mate!

Fuck. Things are worse than I thought.

Usually these zit-faced little
fuckers would rue the day

they yanked my chain. Not now.

Shit, they can literally smell
the weakness pouring out of me.

Mr Burglar?

Fuck.

Show yourself.

Come out whoever you are.

Hello?

- Who's that?
- Morning, Carol.

Jesus Christ.

Almost. It's me. You all right?

You scared the shit out of me.

The lights have just turned
themselves off.

- Must be the poltergeist.
- The what?

Same thing happened to Walshy
yesterday. The showroom's haunted.

It definitely smells like
something died in here.

Sorry about that. Dodgy tum.

I think it's those diet pills.

Or maybe this place really is haunted.

Spirits, send us a sign.

Don't...

Hello?

Yeah, this is Carol.

Oh, thank God, I thought you were
a poltergeist.

Never mind. Yeah, he's here. One second.

It's Sam. Really angry.

Shit. Robbie! Tell her I'm on my way.

Meanwhile recent events
had driven Lavender

back into the arms of an old flame.

Very good, so you were in
Paul Young's band

just before he made it big?

Yeah. No, commercial success
didn't really appeal to me.

Well, here in Ben Billing's band
we're all about the music.

Now our bassist has broken his arm,

and we need a replacement for
tonight's warm-up gig.

Then, and I don't know
if you're up for this,

we're going to be heading up north
to tour to support the miners.

Love supporting the miners.
"Support The Miners!"

I could well be interested in coming
on the tour, thank you.

Are you sure?

Because it's a very long commitment,
and I'll be straight with you,

last couple of gigs we've had
some unwelcome attention

from National Front thugs.

Sure. I am done working for The Man.

I mean, I've probably
got to give The Man

a couple of weeks' notice, but
after that I'm ready to quit

this town and get back
on the fucking road.

Not to mention get back on the booze
and the drugs and the groupies!

Well, I'm sober these days.

Yeah, I'm more hopped up on the notion

of trying to change shit politically
through music.

Yeah. Me too. That's what I meant.

Glad to hear it, comrade.

Your bloody pills are
making me feel like shit.

Me too.

Can't be the pills. They've
been scientifically tested.

By scientists.

Maybe it's the showroom poltergeist?

It's not a ghost, Carol,
it's his shitty pills.

What's this low-life doing here?

Haven't you got a job
or a park bench to get to?

This is my job. Thank you very much.

First client progress session,
the daily weigh-in.

As soon as we're done,
I'll be out of your hair.

We are done, mate.

I don't need a weigh-in to tell
me I've lost 2st because

that's how much shit has flown out
of my arse in the past 24 hours!

All right, let's keep things civil.

You don't have to take the pills, Tony.

They're a free trial,

although you should know that there
might be some withdrawal symptoms.

What kind of fucking symptoms?

Shakes, headaches,

a few of the old suicidal thoughts.

Should only last a couple of days.
Week tops.

OK. Walshy, a quick word?

Before you top yourself,
can you forward me

the rest of the commission
on the retirement home?

Until the ink is dry on
the contract Vincent,

you've got two chances, no chance,
and no fucking chance.

Now, would you all excuse me,
please? I need a poo.

All right, Carol, where's Lavender?

I need him to get the contract signed
by his bum-chum down at the council.

- He's at the dentist all morning.
- I'll do it myself.

Can you watch Robbie for a few hours?

No can do. I'm meeting
a white witch this afternoon.

Course you are.

I can do it. I'm doing fuck all.

I mean, I could probably move a few
clients around, make some space.

Really?

- Tenner.
- Christ.

All right.

Look, Uncle Brian is going
to keep an eye on you

for a couple of hours, all right?

What! I knew today was
going to be boring.

Listen, my number one son,
you'll get to spend some quality

time with Daddy, straight after
Daddy gets back from closing

a big fucking deal with the man
from the council.

Those Ataris don't grow on
trees, you know.

For the next hour, I'm going to
forget my life's a shit-show

and seal this fucking deal using
the old Vincent Swan magic.

First, I just might need some help
from our old purple friends.

It's show-time, folks!

I've been waiting two fucking hours!

Two fucking hours!

I told you, Mr Swan,
you haven't booked an appointment.

Mr Osbourne is a busy man.

Mr Swan?

Rick Osbourne? Vincent Swan, Cachet
Windows Head Of Commercial Sales.

I'm Martin Lavender's boss.

Sorry to barge in on you like this.

Really? Martin works for you?

Yeah. I see myself more as
a mentor, a father figure.

Right, well, I'm actually on my way
to another meeting right now

so if you want to fix up an
appointment with Sarah,

we'll discuss this another time, OK?

Rick, I'll skip the foreplay
and jump straight

into the penetration then.

We are very happy to be supplying
windows to the old people's home

but in order cut the lead-time we
need to get the contract signed

and the deposit paid.

As I said, Mr Swan, talk to Sarah
about an appointment.

- There's no hurry. - No, no, no,
there is a big fucking hurry indeed.

Look, I have the contract here,
so if you fancy signing it.

Sorry, mate. Sweating like a pig.

All right.
I was dreading telling Martin this,

but it's actually going to be
a lot of fun telling you.

There was an emergency council
budget meeting last night.

The bloodsuckers on the council
finally got their way.

We're closing the retirement home.

Makes more fiscal sense selling
the land to a supermarket chain.

So the deal's off, I'm afraid.

Fuck.

Well, that's tragic.

I know. The poor residents
are being relocated

to a council facility 17 miles away.

Fuck them, Rick.
They're nearly dead. I'm 31!

How am I going to pay my mortgage?

You got any other high-end
commercial deals

you want to sling Lavender's way?

Eh? Rick? Please. Oh, come on, mate.

The choice was simple,

either sell the Swan family home or
spend my 30s in debtors' prison.

The way I saw it, they could
always get rehoused,

whereas I wouldn't be able
to get a new arsehole.

Sarah, love, who do I have
to sleep with around here

to jump the waiting list
for a council house?

The mark-up on these, it's incredible.

What are you doing here?

I'm just baby-sitting young Robbie here.

We've had a right laugh,
haven't we, Robbie?

Uncle Fitzpatrick says I'm
a bit on the chubby side

so he gave me some of these.

As a gift.

You can explain that to his mum.

Nice wheels.

You're funny.

No, no, I'm serious. I
always wanted a Chopper.

Ape-hanger handle-bars and the old
suicide clutch. It's a classic.

Yeah, well, we're a bit short of
cash so I had to sell my car...

so, yeah, that's embarrassing.

Come on. I'll drive you guys home.

Or, better still, you
drive you guys home

and I'll take the Chopper.

All right.

He's mental.

He is!

- A nutter.
- What is he doing?

Honestly.

- _
- What the fuck have you done, Vincent?

Oh, God!

Are you all right?

Oh, no. I think the suicide clutch
has mangled my scrotum.

Oh, God, I'm sorry!

Why is the house for sale?

Just come inside.

I just wish that ball-bag Vincent
could have told me about this first.

Could we leave ball-bags out the
conversation for now, please?

Thank you. I've not had much
to laugh about lately.

I'm glad my testicles could
bring you some pleasure.

Who said chivalry was dead, eh?

Well, if you fancied a laugh
that doesn't involve me

being neutered, you're welcome to
come to the left-wing agit rock gig

I'm playing in support
of the miners tonight.

Whoa! Well, I mean, how could I resist?

The best thing about having an
affair with a 23-year-old

is that whatever the problem...

Vincent?

..sex is always the answer.

Why my Dad is going to hell,

to hell, to hell...

Good boy, Robbie.

Don't call me Robbie!

I didn't call you Robbie.

Yes, you fucking did.

What are you doing?

Checking if my hands are pulsating.
Fucking pills!

Oh, shit, I forgot about Robbie.

Thank you. Thanks very much.

While I was ODing on sex and drugs,

Lavender was rekindling his
rock and roll addiction.

Well done!

That was a lot of fun.

I like to think it's a bit more
important than that, Martin.

Yeah, of course, yeah.
I was just being an idiot.

- Yeah.
- I thought it was a lot of fun too.

Sorry for enjoying myself.

This is Sam. She's, erm...
She's just kidding.

Well, the thing is, Sam,

I remember when this was a
working-class town that would

have found common cause
with the striking miners.

Now it's all Thatcher's
fucking children,

buying their own council houses,

bankrupting themselves with flash
cars and shitty double-glazing.

So I hope tonight wasn't
so much fun as it was

a much-needed lesson
in social responsibility.

And is it socially responsible
to define people politically

by what they buy?

Because I think
it's socially irresponsible.

And fucking patronising.

If you played a gig for striking
double-glazing salesmen,

I wonder how many miners would be
in the audience to support them?

Well, well, well. I see
this lady is not for turning.

Lavender, you going to be on the
tour bus tomorrow night?

Hell, yeah.

Great. Sam, pleasure sparring with you,

but got some TUC Execs in
so I'd better go say hello.

Sorry if that was a bit...

He's just... He's just very committed.

Committed to being a pretentious twat?

Er, yes. He is 100% committed to that.

- Another drink?
- Yeah.

Oi, barman. We're going to need
four bottles of Holsten here.

And now tell me we haven't missed
that commie cunt Billings.

Oi, oi!

Where is he? Where's that fucking nonce?

You're not like the other girls
round here, really impressive, Sam.

A real live-wire.

All right, Ben. What happened
to those TUC execs?

They're just outside in the beer garden,

waiting for an audience
with Ben Billings, so...

better not disappoint.

Shall we do one?

Oh, yes, please.

All right, mate, you know that
commie ponce Ben Billings?

I just saw him pop out into the
garden if you're interested.

He had it coming though.

Yeah. What a dick.

"You're a live-wire, Sam, seriously."

"Oh, thanks, Ben, you sexy activist."

Is that meant to be me?

Yeah. Obviously. Hello.

"Oh, Ben, do you want to come in for
a coffee and a class struggle?"

Yeah, all right.

"I was joking, Ben. I am married."

You weren't being Ben, were you?

Do you want to come in?

What about the kids?

They'll be asleep.

Yeah, come on.

Get away from my wife, you arsehole!

Gotcha!

Mate, you should have seen your
fucking face, it was priceless.

What the fuck are you doing here?

Look, I understand you're annoyed.
I'm sorry I fucked up today.

But I came to apologise and saw Robbie

and he was like, "Can you stay
with me and watch Minder?"

Do you know what, I panicked.

I'll take the house off the market
tomorrow.

Sam?

Sam, come on, don't be like that!

I'm sorry for being a dick to you
about that council job.

It's already forgotten.

Robbie told me you brought him home
and took Sam out to cheer her up.

You're taking care of my family
better than I am at the moment.

Come on, mate. I know things are
tough right now

but you'll pull through.

Thank you.

Now, are you on the old diet pills
because I've lost mine

and I'm starting to shake
like a fucking leaf right now.

Whoa, ooh, oh! Nobody wants you here.

Leave this place.

Ooh, ahh, hello!

Whoa...

- What's happening?
- It's an exorcism.

Don't worry, she's a
professional white witch.

Oh, good, because just for
a second there I was worried.

There. It's gone.
You shouldn't have any more trouble.

Oh, thank God.

If you do get any more problems
with the lights then I'll get

- my boyfriend round.
- What is he a priest?

No, he's an electrician.

- Have you got a tenner?
- For what?

The witch services.

We're paying her for this?

I can throw in a quick tarot
reading as part of the price.

I sense a troubled soul in you.

Tarot reading?

No offence but if I want to appeal
to a higher authority to get me

out of this fucking hole, it'll
be someone with more clout

than a track-suit-wearing Grotbags.

It looked like I was going to have
to take this one to the very top.

I guess I'm really doing this.

Dear God,

Jesus, Mary,

whoever the fuck it is
that deals with prayers,

or let's call it what it is,
begging requests.

So this is it, I'm literally
down on my knees.

I mean, how does it even work?

I promise to believe in you,

adjust my behaviour accordingly,

and you do what?

Give me a sign?

Or a feeling of hope.

Do you still do the whole
voice of God thing?

Vincent Swan,

your prayers have been answered.

Ronnie?

No, it's God, you berk.

What are you doing here?

I've got a deal with that
old wino Father Andrews

for the communion plonk, it's Don
Cortez cheap shit that's not been

consecrated, but don't
tell the Catholics.

You don't believe in this old
bollocks, do you, Vincent?

No. Course not, it's a mug's game.

Ronnie, you don't want to get
a pint, do ya?

I've got something I'd like
to get your advice on.

So what can I help you with, Vincent?

Yeah, erm... Well...

Oh, no. Not these cunts.

It's him again. You want some?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Mug.

What did you do that for,
you fucking nut job?

I smell different today, don't I, boys?

Leg it, leg it!

Sorry about that.

Now, Ronnie, isn't it about time you
and I went into business together?