All language subtitles for Room at The Top • Part 1_EN

I'm so sorry, I've forgotten
to bring you your towels.

I'll put them
in the bathroom for you.

Well, I think that's everything.
Do say if it isn't.

It's all lovely, Mrs Thompson.

Oh, well, I don't know about that,
but I hope it's comfortable for you.

And it's Marion, please.
And you'll be Joe, won't you,

unless you insist on Mr Lampton?
I don't insist.

Chosen in your honour.
We've got quite a selection.

You just slip new ones in the frames
when you're sick of them

so if they don't appeal to you,
just say. No, they're marvellous.

Right, well I'll, um,
I'll leave you in peace, then.

Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells
http://UKsubtitles.ru.

All tickety-boo, chez Thompson?

Sounded like a cushy billet
when Joan passed on the number.

I'd say I've landed on my feet.

You look like you might
have a talent for that.

Strictly frottage, old son.

She's got the strength
of an all-in wrestler.

Not worth the effort.
Take it from me. If you say so.

Come in.

Mr Lampton to see you, Mr Hoylake.
Thank you, Charles.

Senior Audit Clerk is nothing to
be ashamed of at your age, Lampton.

But there's plenty of opportunities
here to better yourself

if you keep your head down
and your nose clean.

That's what I intend, Mr Hoylake.

Good. Oh, thank you, Joan.

You're not a married man, Lampton?
No.

Take your time, is my advice.

I intend to, Sir.

Save yourself a bit at this stage

and you can give yourself
a proper start in life.

Just how I like it - nice and strong.

Ersatz. Now there's a thing.

It's always struck me as ironic
that, in spite of winning the war,

we're stuck with ersatz this

and ersatz that. A German word.
Cedric, chicken.

There's nothing ersatz about that,
but you might have to wait

until Cedric's delivered his paper
to the Literary Society to get it.

I'm sorry, Joe.

Are you a breast man or a leg man?

White or dark meat?

Dead. Dirty.

Have you lived there all your life?
Well, except for the Air Force.

Well there's plenty of industry
here in Warley.

But I suppose we're lucky it's
all on the other side of the town.
Not where you'll be working.

This is delicious,
Mrs Thompson. Er, Marion.

She's a marvel in the kitchen.

Oh! Well, it's... it's lovely
to have two men to cook for again.

I...I should give
you my ration book.

Well, yes. Whenever you, you know,
when you've had chance.

The Food Office is right next
to the Town Hall.

You know we miss Maurice
very much at times.

But we don't live in a graveyard,
do we, Cedric?

We don't mind
being reminded of him.

Not at all.
You mustn't worry about that, Joe.

All right.

I feel like that about
my mother and father sometimes.

He's smashing!

I'm even more smashing when you get
to know me. Hidden charms. Oh, aye!

He never takes a full bloody hour
for his dinner, 'im. It's not fair.

Have you seen his wife? The wonder
is he doesn't bring in sandwiches.

I don't smoke, thanks.

So you're from Dufton, then?
Not any more, thank God.

How are you finding Warley?

I'm finding it greatly to my taste,
I must say.

He's got lodgings at the Top.
Mmm, posh. Whereabouts?

Eagle Road. Not the top of the Top.

It's lovely round there.
Yeah. It is, isn't it?

Coupons in that skirt.

Sorry, I can go to my room.
Good, there you are. No, don't go.

This is Bob and Eva Storr.
Let me introduce you to Joe Lampton,
our famous lodger.

Bob and Eva are friends of ours.

Nice to meet you. How d'you do.

Nice to meet you, Joe.

Well, it's lovely to meet you, Joe.
It's Joe, is it? Not Joseph?

It is Joseph. But I go by Joe.

Yeah. It has a manly ring. Thanks.

Right, well,
I'll bring the coffee then and, uh,

you can reveal
your dark purpose to Joe.

You have been warned!

What about? White slavery.

Actually, worse. Eva!

Amateur dramatics.
We're short of men.

Always short of men.

We got terribly excited
when Marion told us there was
new blood to be had.

Didn't we, Bob? So have you ever
dabbled, Joe, with thespians?

A bit. In the forces. They had
the opposite problem, though.

You should see my Betty Grable.
Actually, you shouldn't.

I bet you've got the legs for it.
Darling!

You'll frighten the poor man off.
We really do need him.

He doesn't look like he scares
that easily. Do you, Joe?

I wouldn't say so.

Cast members up stage, please.
Careful with your glasses.

Hang the casting committee.
I wanted to lead you astray.

Feel free. No, I've got
to be wholesome, apparently.

I don't know what Alice
has got that I haven't,

but she always seems to get
the pornographic parts.

Maybe Bob's trying to tell me
something.

Top of page four.

Have you met her?

Who?

Alice. Alice Aisgill.
She's Hester to your Joshua.

The strength of a giant and the
heart of a child. That's you.

Are you strong?

They said she was dead as soon
as she hit the ground. Not bad.

I'm Joe. Oh, thank you. I'm Susan.

Oh, you are strong!
I used to box.

Oh, if you went professional
I'd run away with you.

I couldn't resist
a big, brutal, sweaty boxer.

What do you want?
You know what I want.

Not here.

Run away with me, then.

Well,
maybe we could manage a weekend.

I'm looking for my wife.

They were taking measurements
for costumes. I think they're
still up on the stage.

Nice suit.

George Aisgill.
He's always well turned-out.

They've got no children
to spend it on.

Night! Night, Susan.

Night, Susan.
Oh! Goodnight, Joe.

How do you do? I don't think
we've met. I'm Jack. Jack Wales.

Joe Lampton.
Joe's got a part in the play.

Oh. Where angels fear to tread, eh?
You not an actor, then?

No. I'm afraid I have to go back
to varsity in a couple of weeks.

Otherwise,
Susan would have roped me in.

Thought they'd do plenty of that
kind of thing at Oxford.

Cambridge, actually.

Nice to have met you.

That's enough. No-one can see.

I thought we were going to have
a weekend together.

Yeah, well,
we'd both had a few drinks.

Bob's a stickler
for turning up on time.

He'll take your part off you,
if you're not careful.

They said she was dead
as soon as she hit the ground.

They had to shoot the horse.

Did you see the accident, Joshua?
Nay, Madam.

There was no light on the road,
save from the workman's brassiere.

Sorry. Brazier. Brazier.

Did you see the accident, Joshua?
Nay, Madam.

There was no light on the road,
save from the workman's brazier.

It didn't give off any heat,
neither did...

It didn't give off any heat neither.
Did they say who was in the car?

It didn't give off any heat, neither.
Did they say who was in the car?

Can we do the whole thing
from the beginning?

I've rather lost the will to live.
Shall we call it a night?

Strong stuff, isn't it? Erotic vices
among the working class?

I'm working class.

Good for you.

Don't suppose
you'd like some coffee?

I'm not a great coffee man, ta.

Good. You can buy me a beer, then.

Right.

Clarence? I know somewhere better.

No thespians.

Wouldn't have thought
this was your sort of place.

Really? I love it.

It's on my way home,

so I don't have to worry about
driving far when I've had
one over the eight.

You live right at t'Top, I suppose?

Yes. Linnet Road.
You're Eagle Road, aren't you?

I lodge there. God, Joe.

Can you consider taking the chip
off your shoulder for a minute?

Try the Old. It's real beer.
Dark. If you like that.

And I'm paying.
But just the first round,

so don't get your knickers
in a twist.

Two pints of Old, please,
and a packet of potato crisps.

Extra salt.

I've low tastes. I warn you.

Oh, God! That's divine.

Why haven't I thought of it before?
You clever man.

Well, I can't claim it
as my invention,

although crushing the crisps,
that's a Lampton touch.

It's a master stroke.

Now, listen, we're going to be
doing this play together.

So I thought we'd better get
everything straight between us.

I don't care if you're working class
or Little Lord Fauntleroy,

but if you've got an inferiority
complex, don't take it out
on the rest of us.

I'm sorry, but you were like a bear
with a sore head in rehearsals.

Fair enough. I was just
in a bad mood, that's all.

Eva's a certified prick tease.
Excuse my French.

Yeah, well,
I wasn't taking her seriously.

Good. There's plenty more fish
in the small pond.

Susan Brown. She's gorgeous.

Grade two. What does that mean?

Hang on, get us another drink.

Grades correspond to the income
of husbands and fiances,

ranging from one - millionaires,
film stars, dictators...

to 12 - under 350 a year,
with no hope of getting any more.

And what grade are you, then?

The whole point of the scheme
is husbands are chosen on eventual,
as well as actual, salary

so I'm currently grade seven -
600 and over, Deputy and Assistant
Head group.

The Lampton Report on Love!

It's depressingly accurate,
I promise you.

Sometimes a grade seven man might
hook himself a grade three wife.

Oh, well, there you go, then.

Yeah, but you also get self-made
grade three men with grade ten wives.

They've hooked
before they made their pile.
They get grade three mistresses.

I don't know whether
that's Marxism or defeatism.

Realism.

And Susan Brown's
a grade two, you say?

If not one.

20 grand a year
you'd have to make.

What does your husband do?

Cars.

Why don't you ask her out?

She's not engaged, you know.

Unless you feel inferior,
in some way, to what's-his-name?

Jack Wales? Do I heck, as like.

Blokes like him
think they've got a divine right.

I can see she's just used to him
and he thinks he owns her.

Then ask her out.
Man the barricades!

It's funny talking to you, Alice.
It's like talking to a fella.

Thank you, honey.

Cheers.

'Joe! Hello!' I've two tickets to
the ballet, The Haunted Ballroom.

'Oh, how marvellous!
I've been dying to see that.'

Well, I'll pick you up, then.
Saturday night. I mean, evening.

'No, no, I'll meet you there.
What time does it start?

'Oh. Hang on. I'm all tangled up.
I've just had a bath.'

Uh... It starts at seven.

Are you sure you don't
want picking up?

'No. It's very kind of you.
I'll meet you at quarter to.

'That's it.

'I've found my engagement book.
You're officially inscribed.

'Saturday evening, it is.' Right.

I'll look forward to it, then.
Goodbye.

'Goodbye. Thank you for calling.'

Susan Brown?

Charles, please!

My intentions are those commonly
described as "honourable".

A box of chocolates, a kiss on the
cheek at the end of the night, if I'm
lucky. What's your game, Lampton?

A long game, Charles.
A very, very long game.

She's lovely.

So's that, but I can't afford it!

Sorry. Corned beef.

What you've got to realise is,

Susan Brown is a walking,
breathing justification
of the capitalist system.

You old romantic fool.

Anyway, a little bird tells me
you've been going about
with Alice Aisgill.

I've been for a drink with her a few
times. We're in this play together.

I have to make torrid love to her.
Lucky man.

More than her husband's been doing,
if you listen to gossip.

He's got a fancy woman
up in Leddersford.

Don't say you'd say no.

Oh, she's a bit long in the tooth,
isn't she?

No, it's a platonic thing.
I like the woman. Really.

Ah, platonic. Like me and Joan.

I might take her away
for a platonic weekend.

And maybe she'll end up
having my platonic baby.

Now THAT is fine.

More than a week's wages
for a shirt?

That's barmy, lad.
Don't you want it, though?

A three-guinea linen shirt, Aston
Martin, girl with a Riviera suntan?

Why not, Charles?

Why shouldn't we have everything
Warley has to offer?

Marry Princess Margaret,
that'll sort you out.

Eh, best bib and tucker, eh?
You been stood up?

Looks like it.

Oh, I'm so sorry.
You must have thought I'd forgotten.

Are we too late?

Oh, God, Joe! How sweet! Come on.

Mmm! It's gorgeous, isn't it?
Oh, I simply adore ballet.

Music makes me feel
all squashy inside.

Have you seen Fontaine?

No. No, I'd love to.

She's beautiful. An artist.

Did you see her in London, Joe?

A few times. What in?

Oh, you know, the classics.

I'm not sure I don't prefer this
though. More modern. Mmm.

I'm not sure I'm clever enough
to understand it all.

I think you're being modest.

You sure you wouldn't like a drink
or an ice cream? Oh, no, thank you.

I'm perfectly happy as I am.

I have to say,
I had you down as a dear kipper.

A what? A dear kipper.

When I was little and I wanted this,
that, and the other,

my mother would say,
"You're a dear kipper, you!"
Because it all costs money.

I think it sounds lovely.
"A dear kipper."

Does your mother
still call you that?

She's dead. She died in the war
with my dad. Oh.

But I like talking about her.

I don't live in a graveyard.

I'd like to take you
to Sadler's Wells.

I'd like to go.

Joshua, I never know anything
of what you're thinking,

especially what
you're thinking of me,

the woman who loves you
with all her heart.

Everything I have to give,
I give to you.

I know, my darling. I know.

And you should know
that my heart belongs to you.

Joshua. Hush, woman!

There'll be no harvest now.

Well done.

Susan! Coming to The Clarence?

Oh, I'd love to,
but Jack's waiting for me.

He's taking me out to supper.

Oh. Back, is he? He's only been
at Cambridge five minutes.

Disgraceful, isn't it?

They have very short terms.
See you later, Joe.

Yeah, maybe next week some time.

Fancy a quick one at the St Clair?
Or a slow one even?

Absolutely.

Darling, you don't mind me
bringing my lover, do you?

The more the merrier.

You're a Town Hall wallah,
aren't you?

Treasurers.

Must be a bit dull.

Oh, you'd be surprised.

There's always some businessman
on the fiddle.

My God, you lot hate paying rates!

Not guilty, old man.
My place isn't in Warley.

We don't like that, either.
Depriving your home town of income.

Oh, God, no shop. I beg you.

Couldn't you of
put a bit of make-up on?

Just taken all that
filthy stage stuff off.
It's terrible for the skin.

Sorry to offend, gents.

Better?

Slightly.

Same again? No, it's my shout.

Rubbish! You're our guest.

Wasn't too bad tonight, I thought.

I'll miss it.

Me, too.

You look so sad.

Must be the make-up.

George was right.

What you up to over Christmas?

Nothing. Well, worse than nothing.
Dufton.

Staying at my auntie's.

And how is your campaign going?
With Susan?

It's looking like a bust to me.

Jack Wales is back on the scene.

Well,
maybe you should play hard to get.

Do you think?
It's been known to work.

And I'd say Susan's the kind of girl
who's used to getting everything
offered to her on a plate.

She's bound to be a bit spoilt.

Who's this?

Susan Brown.
Joe's taken a fancy to her.

Oh, good man.
I wouldn't take her dad on, though.

Not without plenty of ammo.
He fights a pretty dirty game,
does Harry.

It's not him I'm keen on.

Here. Thank you, honey.

Merry Christmas, Joe.
Merry Christmas.

We'll miss you, Joe.

Thanks for the gloves.
You shouldn't have.

You were supposed to save that for
Christmas Day. Something to unwrap.

I'm glad they fit.

Like a glove!

Happy Christmas, Mrs Thompson. Oh!

'Warley 6813?'

Alice, it's Joe. Joe Lampton.

'Happy New Year, Joe.'
Happy New Year.

Come and get warm.

Was your Christmas
as ghastly as mine?

It's for kids, really, isn't it?

No point to it, that I can see,
once you've grown up.

No.

They were going to have all
sorts of things up here once.

Then it all came to nothing.

Same old story - the war.

I think we blame the war
for too much sometimes.

I'm not knocking it.
It shook things up for me.

Got me out of Dufton.

Passing me exams.

Got me...

Got me laid.

That would have happened
sooner or later.

You light it for me.
Like in the films.

God, they're rough!

Sorry! It's all they had in t'shop.

You know,
I didn't smoke before the RAF.

You got breaks in training.

Cigarette breaks.
You just get into the habit.

There were this one bloke in my hut.

He used to set his alarm,
believe it or not,

so he could have a fag
in the middle of the night.

Said it soothed his nerves.

He bought it, though.

Just on a recce.

Fuel tank exploded
50 yards from base.

Fried in his own fat, like bacon.

It's a very moral kind of car.

I was just thinking.
How nice it is to have...

to make love to a woman...

who don't weep with shame afterwards.

Or eat fish and chips
while we're doing it!

Come on.

Let's go and get warm.
Oh, God, you are.

Beautiful hands you've got.

Brutal.

Warm hands... cold heart.

The other way round, surely?

We'll still be friends,
won't we, Joe?

Loving friends.

Yeah. Exactly.

Don't fall in love with me.

It's not the same thing, you know.

Course not.

Loving friends.

Actually,
I could murder some fish and chips.

Warley!

Beryl.

And how are you, Joan,
queen of my heart?

Oh, aye.
What's all this in aid of?

What could you mean, Charlie boy?

Note the knife-blade crease
in Mr Lampton's rather questionable
trousers, Raymond.

A sure sign that said articles
of clothing have not been worn
much recently.

That, with the gratuitously
jaunty whistling, can only
signify one thing...

how's your father?!

You've got sex on the brain,
that's your trouble.

Only ruddy place I have got it.
That's my trouble.

Did you take this, Ray?

Yeah, Mr Lampton.

It were only five minutes back.

You got the account for Nantwiches?

Reckon we might have got them
for teeming and lading.

Well, that would make my day.

There's something going on
with Crosskills.

I'll show you the entries. Here.

I wish we could sleep together.

I mean, really sleep.
Spend the whole night.

We could manage something,
couldn't we?

Doesn't he go away sometimes?

Now and again.

Oi.

Esther'll be back soon.

She's probably walking
around in the cold, God love her.

I didn't think you were beautiful
at all when I first met you.

I must have been blind.

You know,
sometimes you could be about 18.

I'm just a crazy mixed-up kid.

Mmm...

You should have been a navvy.

I hate to think of you
ever wearing clothes.

I don't think you could
have ever met a navvy, love.

They wear a lot more
than accountants do.

Careful. You're looking babies.

If you look long enough,
you'll see a baby.

Actually, I can...
I can see myself.

Bless you.

Oh.

Sorry, my darlings.

I held as long as I could, but it's
absolute brass monkeys out there.

It's all right. Alice has gone.
Cup of tea.

Can I tempt you, darling?
One to send you on your way?

You're all right. I'd best get off.

Alice is a very lucky girl.

Mind you, she deserves
a bit of luck. We all do.

She has a heart of gold, you know.
Always has had.

Do you love her?

It's about time someone did.

But I can tell you're not the type
to wear your heart on your sleeve.

What do you mean "someone"?

George isn't exactly
love's young dream

and roses round the door, is he?

My god. Your sort
are always the jealous ones.

You're all right.
I've got work to do.

Why do you think she married him?

He asked her.

Joe!

Come in.

I'm sorry to disturb you.

I've just been on the telephone
to Eva Storr.

She's having a birthday party
next Saturday

and she's invited us all along.

I'll have to take her a present,
won't I?

Well, you can leave it to me,
if you like.

I know the kind of thing she likes.

And I promise not to break you.

You're too good to me, you know.

I enjoy it.

You could do with a bit of fun.

You've had your nose to the
grindstone too long with exams.

Dark circles under your eyes.

Uh...

I don't bear such close
scrutiny, honey.

You've got a fabulous figure.

You should have seen me
ten years ago.

Actually, you can somewhere.

I did life modelling
when I was in rep.

There's probably a drawing room
in the Home Counties

where I'm displayed
in all my former glory.

You never told me.

Why didn't you tell me?

There's a lot you don't
know about me. My disreputable past.

Sweetheart,
it's nothing to worry about.

Well, maybe you better tell me
everything.

Oh, for God's sake, Joe.

It was an art college.

I needed the money.
The room was freezing cold.

I got cramp. I wasn't very good.

And I did a bit for a photographer
I met at a party.

He had a gas fire. Did he now?

Yes.

Oh, God,
you can be so bloody provincial!

That's what you like, isn't it?

Leg-show and lingerie.
Ooh-la-la. Slap and tickle.

You stupid bitch!

Get off me.

Esther isn't made of money,
you know. This isn't a hotel.

Well, give her that, then.
Tell her I broke the bottle.

I actually thought
you were different.

What kind of sap am I?

I'm not you dirty private postcard,
Joe.

I own my body.

Tits. Cunt.

Yeah. I can say those words.

And I'm not ashamed of them.
And I'm not ashamed of anything
I've ever done.

If you'd ever mixed
with intelligent people,
you'd have an inkling of that.

I can't help where I come from!
Oh, change the bloody record!

Not that it makes any difference,
but I was damned near starvation

when I transgressed
your peculiar morality.

You make a great
to-do about your humble beginnings,

but you've never gone hungry,
have you?

Didn't someone else
always go short for you, Joe?

Mummy's boy. Teacher's pet.
Housewife's choice.

What do you think
a prisoner-of-war gets to eat?

We ought to be sensible about it.

We both agreed
there'd be nothing permanent.

All right. If that's what you want.
We'll call it a day.

There's nothing more to say,
is there?

Alice.

I'm sorry.

I'm grateful to you.

Truly.

Oh, happy birthday, Eva.
You look lovely.

I bought you some chocolates.

Hello. I hoped you'd be coming.

You look good enough to eat.

I'm not sure you've got
room on the plate.

Watch out, Susan, our Joe has a huge
appetite for everything.

Iron guts they used to call me
in the RAF.

If he were fatter, he'd be just like
Henry VIII. Eva. You're horrid.

I like to see a man eat.

Henry was famous for more
than just eating.

Rest assured, love, if I was
going to chop anyone's head off,
you'd be first in the queue.

No wives to speak of... yet.

Glad to hear it.

I always thought
you liked older women.

Oh, did I not mention? The Aisgills
can't make it, by the way.

George telephoned just to say that
they have a previous engagement.

Don't mind the birthday girl.

She's jealous, cos you're the most
beautiful girl here. Don't make fun.

I wasn't. Not of you.

Christ, Susan, you're the loveliest
thing I've ever seen.

Are you angry with me?

I telephoned.
Didn't you get the message?

Ah, well, I've been busy.
I've got exams coming up and...

You seemed busy yourself
over Christmas. You mean Jack.

Joe...

We go about together
but it's nothing serious.

Mummy likes him.

Right, well,
that's the main thing, isn't it?

Don't be like that, please.

It's not like...

The times we went out together,
you never even tried to kiss me.

The times I took you out,
I just gave it up.

You seemed so cold and proper.

It didn't seem any use.

You know when a woman
wants to be kissed.

Maybe she doesn't
always know herself.

There's a pure kiss for you.

I don't want a pure kiss.

You make me feel funny inside. I...

I've never felt like that before.

Come in.

Well, you're picking up the work
very well, I must say.

And I'm most gratified to see that
you're acquiring the qualifications
to do even better.

Plenty of room for promotion here,
you know.

You like it here, don't you?

Very much. I love it.

Joe, you may resent
what I'm going to say now.

What you do in your spare time is,
of course, your business...

within limits.

And I needn't tell you
what those limits are.

Have there been any complaints?

Oh, for heaven's sake,
don't misunderstand me.

Whatever the limits of decorum are,
you have not, I assure you,

transgressed them.

Well, that's a relief.

Let me put it this way...

You have, I'm sure, some notion
of the workings of local government.

In theory, the most important cog
in the machine is the councillor.

In practice, we know it's the senior
official who runs the show.

But promotion is another matter.

Promotion, whatever the head
of the department may recommend,

is dependent on the majority vote
of the Establishments Committee.

And councillors are like sheep.

If a powerful personality
declares himself against
an official's promotion,

then the majority will follow him,
just to curry favour.

Do I make myself clear?
Not entirely, if I'm honest.

Councillor Brown is the Chairman
of the Establishments Committee.

He's a very wealthy
and powerful man.

Engineer by trade, you know?

He likes everything to run like
a piece of first-class machinery,

including his family.

Well, perhaps I'd better apply
for a job elsewhere, then, eh?

Oh, good God, dear chap, don't take
the wrong end of the stick.

As I said,
we're very pleased with your work.

Are you planning
on going to the Civic Ball?

Yeah. I mean, a lot
of the department's going.

Plenty of pretty girls there.

Guaranteed. I'll introduce you
to them, if you like.

You're not actually courting,
are you?

No.

No, not as such.

Well, save yourself a guinea
and go solo.

You don't take a bottle of beer
into the pub with you, do you?

Well, this is like Chekov, isn't it?

We sit here drinking tea,
discussing life.

We'll begin by examining Joseph
Lampton. Born January 1921 at Dufton.

Father, John Lampton.
Occupation, overseer.

Education, Dufton Grammar School.

Junior Clerk, Dufton UDC, 1937.

Sergeant-Observer, 1940.

1943-1945, Stalag E91, Silesia.

Present post,
Senior Audit Clerk, Warley UDC.

Prospects - might well
be Treasurer of Warley, one day.

You'll do.

Lampton has risen remarkably high,
considering his humble beginnings,

but in our considered opinion,
he lacks the necessary background,

poise and breeding to succeed,
in our sense of the word.

In short,
he is, essentially, vulgar.

In addition, we learned,
to our astonishment and horror,

that Lampton has entered upon
a clandestine relationship

with a young Grade Two woman.
She'll be here, you know.

Not if we don't get a move on,
she won't.

Joan will think I've fallen in.

You're worse
than a bloody woman, you.

It's the same every year.

You either pay the Earth
for shorts or blow yourself up
with bottled beer.

I can stand it, just for the night.

Good evening, Susan. Jack.
Hello, Joe.

Mummy, Daddy, this is Joe Lampton,
the young man I told you about.
How do you do, Mrs Brown?

Mr Brown. We met at my interview for
the Treasurer's Office. I remember.

Dufton lad.
He was in the forces like you, Jack.

Where was it you said you
did your basic, Lampton?

Lincolnshire.
Frinton Bassett. The 51st.

Good God, then you must know
Chick. Chick Darrow. Sorry, no.

Thoroughly decent chap.
I went to school with him.

Went for a Burton
over the Ruhr, though. How sad.

I don't know him, I'm afraid.

The officers didn't mix much
with the NCOs.

Dufton, did you say?
Do you know Cannon Jones?

Sorry, no.

Can I buy anyone a drink?
No, no, no, old boy.

It's frightfully dear stuff, this.

Extraordinary, really.
You couldn't miss old Chick.

Bright red hair, terrific baritone.
Good enough to be a professional.

If Joe didn't know him,
he simply didn't know him.

Oh, come now. He's a Dufton lad.

George Pullman. You must know him.

I know the name, yes. Amazing chap.

He'll kill himself in that old
Alpha. Drives it like a maniac.
you must have seen him.

I'm afraid I can't find much
to admire in a tallyman.

I don't follow you, old man.

He sells clothes on credit
for around 50% over the retail price,

then charges interest on top of that.

It's money lending
dressed as trade. It stinks.

You're sure
I can't get anyone a drink?

What do you reckon, Joe?

Are Warley's finances
up to another round?

We're solvent,
if that's the question.

More than can be said for
the country as a whole, eh?

Winnie was right.
We're under a Gestapo with this lot.

Can't disagree
with you there, Mr Hoylake.

What do you reckon, Mr Lampton?

You're talking to the wrong man,
I'm afraid. I voted Labour.

Did you now? Out with the old,
in with the new, eh?

We'll buy our own, then.

"Can't disagree
with you there, Mr Hoylake."

Steady on.
Voted Labour myself, as it happens.

Why didn't you
bloody stand up to him, then?

What's ever, ever going to change
if we just lie down

and let the bastards
walk all over us?

Talk about the ruddy Gestapo.

All right! Got the job to think of.

They don't grow on trees.

Sod this for a game of soldiers.
I'll have some of Joan's.

You're not wrong about tallymen.

I wouldn't worry yourself about
the way the world's run, lad.

Pick your battles.
Enjoy yourself while you're young.

I'll do me best.

No.

There you are.

You've seen more
than Jack's ever seen...

or likely to.

Take me somewhere. Another day.

Aren't you frightened
of what I might do to you?

Terrified.

You better not
be stringing me along.

Why would I do that?

Cos it feels nice.

This feels nice.

Why are you so touchy
about being made a fool of?

I don't know, really.

I suppose... I'm horribly shy,
deep down.

Could never believe a woman would
love me enough... to let me do this.

Oh, God, Susan. I'm bone-sick of
myself sometimes. You're wonderful.

You are the wonderfullest man
in the whole world.

I think
I'm falling in love with you.

Look at you.

It's not even that you look clean.

You look like
you've never been dirty.

You know, I love you too, don't you?

Do you really? You know I do.

How much?

A hundred thousand pounds' worth.

A hundred thousand pounds.

Told you!

'36813.'

I've got to see you.
'Have you any idea of the time?'

I'm sorry, Alice.
I'm sorry about everything.

Come to Spanaway, please.

You've got to save me.

Please.

I'm so sorry.