In Sickness and in Health (1985–1992): Season 6, Episode 2 - Episode #6.2 - full transcript
Alf gets a job pushing the wheelchair to deliver papers but,after he has played a prank on an irate householder,a storm blows his papers away so he decides to gain efficiency by hooking his wheelchair to the milk float. Unfortunately he goes careering downhill - into the swimming pool of a black footballer he recently abused. There is reconciliation but a further misadventure with the chair lands him in a removals van on its way to Newcastle.
(# CHAS AND DAVE:
In Sickness And In Health)
# Now, my old darlin'
They've laid her down to rest
# And now I'm missing her
with all me heart
# But they don't give a monkey's
down the DHSS
# And they've gone and halved me pension
for a start
# So it won't be very long
before I'm by her side
# Cos I'll probably starve to death
That's what I'll do
- # For richer or poorer... #
- I'm bloody poorer, that's a fact.
#...That's cos in sickness and in health
I said "I do".. #
(# Bridal March)
#...In sickness and in health
I said "I do". #
FOOTBALL CROWD:
# Here we go, here we go, here we go... #
Help the aged.
Guaranteed supervised parking space.
Help the aged! Help the aged!
Backwards you go. Come on, come on.
Right hand down.
Hold it.
You told me “come on...
Yeah, it's all right. No damage done.
Look at the headlight.
That's all right.
He's not here, is he? I'll tell him
that he drove in the back of you.
Give us your quid.
Thanks very much. Enjoy the match.
MAN: Oi!
Oi! You're blocking the road up.
Just providing a service,
that's all, mate.
Bloody service. It's no bloody service
to us, is it, people who live down here!
Don't be so narrow.
Have a thought for others.
Consider their predicament!
What's this? Help the Aged? What aged?
We're two of 'em "ere.
You're all of 'em, if I know you.
How long's he been in that chair?
He was down the Darby and Joan Club
last night,
tango-ing and trying to get his leg over
with a merry widow.
Go on! For disabled, then, weren't it?
Why don't you clear off
and let us get on with our work, eh?
You're only jealous
cos you never thought of it yourself.
All these streets round here laying empty,
football round the corner...
You've got to show a bit of
entrepreneurialism, mate,
if you want to make a few bob
and get on in this world.
Over there. That's it.
You gotta be with it, mate.
You'll be where it's at.
(CAR HORN BEEPS)
Mr Garnett!
(SHOUTS) Mr Garnett!
More trouble.
I want to park my car!
Yeah. Yeah, I'm sorry,
but I've got a few here before you, mate.
I live there!
I know that,
but I can't show no favouritism.
- First come, first served.
- Right.
This is my bloody house!
Yeah. Yeah, I know - it's a shame, innit?
If you'd been here five minutes ago,
that space was empty.
I protect that space with crates.
I put my crates out every football day.
Yeah, but you're not allowed to, are you?
Not by rights.
This is a public highway.
People pay their road tax
and they're entitled to use it.
That's right. The only people who can stop
anyone parking is the police.
- Exactly.
- Right. Well, I'm getting the police.
I'm going to have the police on you!
Take no notice of him, mate. Come on.
Oh, no, you don't.
Hey!
Move that chair out of the road
or I'm going to run it over.
You just dare. You just dare, mate!
You run over this chair
and I'll ram you with it.
Back! Back, I say.
Look, I am warning you.
You're warning /me? You're warning me?
I'm warning you, mate.
You don't frighten me.
Come on.
I am not bluffing.
Move that chair out of the road
or I'm going to run it down.
Oh, yeah? I dare you.
I dare you! I dare you!
Right, you, you've asked for it.
- You've asked for it.
- Watch out, Alf.
- Watch out.
- He don't frighten me.
Well, he does me. I don't want to
end up in this thing permanent.
You gonna be there all day?
I want to park my car.
Yeah, well, get a move on, then.
Oi! Stick it in there.
Yeah, but he won't move
his bloody wheelchair.
I'm saving this spot
for this gentleman here.
Oh, it's you again, is it, Mr Garnett?
Listen, I'd put something in your milk,
if it wasn't for
Mrs Hollingbery might drink it.
- You shut up.
- Yeah.
And never mind about Mrs Hollingbery,
I'm going to put something in your milk.
I'm going to creep over one morning
and I'm going to put arsenic in it.
MAN SHOUTS: Tomorrow'lL do.
Oh, yeah? I've got witnesses to that,
don't you worry.
I've got friends down this street, mate.
Right?
- I'll see a solicitor and name names.
- He will.
- You'll have a letter...
- Right.
He'll have a letter put in the bank
if anything happens to him.
To be opened on demise
and request an autopsy.
You'll be cut open
and you'll be all in it.
I'll 'ave ya! I'll reach out from
the grave and grab the lot of you!
- Alf!
- What?
It's all right, Michael, not you.
I wouldn't incriminate you.
I know who me friends are.
It's kick-off in ten minutes.
Oh, right, yeah. You grab the wheelchair.
(CAR HORNS BLARE)
Hang on, Alf.
(CAR HORNS AND SHOUTING)
And I'm starting a paper round next week.
A paper round?
Yeah. Lord Beaverbrook
started with a paper round.
Look where he finished up!
Ah, yes, but he was only a young lad
when he started.
Age, Michael. It's all in the mind.
Is it? It's in my bloody legs, too,
and in my back.
- Nothing ventured, eh?
- Well, that's what they say.
I don't know why
I didn't start on it years ago.
My education held me back.
The lack of it, you mean?
Well, that too, yeah.
I never had a chance at university.
You don't need university
to do a paper round.
That's just the start, Michael.
Remember, "Even a thousand-mile journey
begins with a single step."
Who's that, Shakespeare?
Either him or me.
Most probably him.
He wrote about most things.
"Fate shapes our ends,
rough-hew them as we may."
- Shakespeare?
- Very likely. Here's another one.
"A rose by any other name...
"has still got thorns."
- That's poetry, innit?
- Yeah.
He was born round 'ere in Stratford,
wasn't he?
Stratford East. Local lad.
Just down the road, innit?
I seen a play of his once on the telly.
Good story, about a mad prince...
- Hamlet.
- Who?
The cigar fella.
That's the one.
He comes home
off of his holidays in Denmark
to find that his uncle's poisoned
his father, who's the king,
and is now havin' it away with his mum,
who's the queen.
Very nice, I'm sure!
No wonder that lad went mad.
Wouldn't you?
How would Prince Charles like it
if he'd come home from his polo
to find his dad, the Duke of Edinburgh,
with a dose of arsenic in his ear hole?
And his mum, Her Majesty the Queen,
having it away with his murderer?
Course, she wouldn't,
she's above that sort of thing,
but it shows you the dangers
of your permissible society.
- You've got your poetry there.
- Yeah?
- It's comin' out o' you.
- Yeah. Er...
Do you think that would be any help
with the paper round?
Well, it couldn't do no harm, could it?
You take Rupert Murdoch -
he has your poetry.
- And your Getty. And your Grade.
- Lord Grade.
Lord Grade, yes. They all had the poetry.
Everybody
who was anybody in this country,
from your professors at your university
right up to your captains of industry,
all had the poetry.
Have read your Shakespeare. So there
must be something about business in it.
"To be, or not to be.."
Now, that must be about somethin'.
"Tomorrow, and tomorrow...
“and tomorrow."
That's about business, innit?
British business. Never do today
what you can put off until tomorrow.
Shakespeare.
- Yeah. And he was born round 'ere.
- Local lad.
Blimey, he knew a thing or two,
didn't he, eh? Whoo-hoo!
All these books.
Bloody waste!
I mean, who reads 'em?
Oi!
Yes?
I'm looking for the Shakespeare,
do you know where it is?
The pub or the poet?
The poet, for now.
I do me drinkin' in the Lord Tennyson.
Which Shakespeare do you want?
How many are there?
I only thought there was one.
I meant, which play do you want?
- You mean like, what story?
- If you like.
Well, I don't want the Hamlet.
I've already seen that.
- Anything to do with paper rounds?
-Eh?
Like entrepreneurialism,
anything like that.
Not so much with the poetry,
more to do with getting on.
- Do you want a do-it-yourself book?
- Did he write some of those?
- How about the Collected Works?
- Is that by 'im?
Oh. It seems to be out.
- Who's got it?
- I can't disclose that information.
Give us that 'ere.
It's old Mr Carey, he's got it. He lives
down our street, he's a window cleaner.
Oh! He's had it over a year.
- I call that overdue.
- Right!
Get out the bloody way!
Oh!
It's overdue.
I've got a flair for this
entrepreneurialism lark.
I should've gone into business years ago.
I don't know why I didn't.
Look at old Mr Carey's business. It was
only a small business when he started out.
It's still a small business.
- He offered you a part-time job.
- Part-time's no good to me, Michael.
What's this paper round going to be, then?
It's only a morning job.
Yeah, well, there's room to expand it.
All right, I've only got 40 houses
to start with,
but I can turn that into 60 houses,
100 houses...
1,000 houses, 2,000 houses...
The ideas he gets!
He'll be lucky he does two,
the speed he walks.
Besides, see, I was Mr Carey's foreman
in the old days. He was under me.
Well, if I worked for him, I couldn't
very well be under him, could I?
It's what you call protocol, you see?
- You've gotta watch the protocol.
- You can't reverse the order.
- No, you can't reverse the order.
- It wouldn't work. Wouldn't work.
Wouldn't be fair to him.
After all them years as his master,
we'd be embarrassed, see?
I was very important in his life.
Hmph!
I was the one... Well, it was me
who sacked people in them days.
And took them on.
You see, men wanting work
had to come to me
and I had to look them up and down,
weigh up the pros and cons.
They had to form a circle round me, see,
and I stood on a box in the middle,
and then I'd look at 'em.
I'd run me eye over them.
And then I'd nod
to the ones I wanted.
You.
You.
You.
And the others,
I'd just look at them, see,
and they knew
I wasn't going to give them a job,
not unless we was very short-handed.
Desperate, like.
Or they bunged him a few bob.
And you could stand there
on your guv'nor's little box
and take pleasure
in not giving those men a job?
Little working-class Hitler!
No...
They was too idle, too Union.
Cor blimey. Good old days, they was.
Blimey, I was almost Lord Vestey's
right-hand man in them days.
Who was Lord Vestey when he was owt?
Who was Lord Vestey?!
Only owned half the docks, that's all.
Shipping lines, warehouses,
meat packaging, plants.
She wants to know who Lord Vestey was!
Friend of yours, wasn't he, Alf?
- Tknew...
- A friend of Mr Garnett's?
I knew...
Mr Garnett had friends
in very high places in the old days.
- Tknew...
- Didn't you?
- Tknew...
- Mr Garnett?
I knew Lord Vestey, and he knew me.
Like that, we was.
With him on top?
He said to me I was the son
he wished he'd had,
cos his own son didn't turn out too well,
you see.
- Oh, shame.
- Wasn't what he wanted.
"Alf", he said,
"I want you down at Head Office.
"We need you there.
"But if I take you out of my docks,
who can I trust to run them?"
He used to get out of
his Rolls-Royce, see,
and he'd come straight over to me.
"Alf," he'd say, "roll us a fag, go on."
He smoked cigars himself,
but he preferred my roll-ups.
"You're the only man here I can talk to,"
he'd say. And do you know what?
He never once mentioned his money
or let his money come between us.
Or anywhere near ya.
Cheers!
- What are you doing 'ere?
- I brought you some sandwiches,
and to get our paper.
I am delivering the paper.
That has to go through the letter box.
I want it today, not tomorrow.
Bloody street's not 'ere.
Morning, squire. All right?
I didn't disturb you or nothin', did I?
Didn't wake you up?
Was that you making all that racket
on my door?
Yeah, I thought I'd better knock
a bit loud in case you was asleep.
I've got a bit of a problem here.
Can you tell me where Whittaker Road is,
or any of these streets?
Only I got these papers to deliver,
you see.
Sod off!
And sod you too, mate.
Fix him... I'LL fix him!
(CHUCKLES)
(KNOCKER BANGS AGAINST DOOR)
Oh!
Uh!
You...!
(RINGS BELL)
(STIRRING MUSIC)
Come on... Come on.
Come on.
What's the matter with ya?
Whoa-ho! Mush!
Whee-ee!
Go on.
That'lL be it.
- That's what it is.
- (CLANKING)
Right!
- Oi! Oi! What's your game?
- What's my game?
I thought me brakes had gone wrong.
Come on, off.
- Off?
- Off!
Don't you tell me "off", mate.
I'm warning... Hey... Hey!
(SHOUTING) Help!
Help!
Aa-aah!
Wa-ah! Ow!
(LAUGHS)
Oh, Gawd!
Help!
(HORN TOOTS)
Aa-ah.
Help me! Help, I'm drown in"!
Calm down... Hold on.
Here you are. Grab that.
- Help!
- 'Ere. I got you.
- Come on.
-I can't sw.__.
Oi! You're the bloke was slaggin' me off
down at West Ham on Saturday.
- No.
- You know what I ought to do with you?
Help! I can't swim!
Blimey.
Running up and down the touchline,
givin' me all that abuse.
What happened?
What's he doing in the pool?
His wheelchair come down the hill
out of control.
The poor man!
He's not a poor man, he's a fake.
It's you.
It's him.
He plays for West Ham. He's...
Give us your hand. Hand!
-I'm drown...
- Fake. Bleedin' fake.
Come on. Don't worry about fake.
Get him out the water.
Keep coming. That's it.
A bit more.
- Oh! Oh! Oh!
- He don't half weigh, don't he?
- A bit more. That's it.
- Oh, Gawd.
Lay down. Mind your 'ead.
What's the matter with you?
Me glasses.
Here you are, I've got your glasses,
don't worry.
- Move his arms. Get the water out.
- Get out of it.
What you talking about?
Brandy! I want brandy.
I'll give you brandy(!)
I was just giving you a bit of advice
on Saturday.
Blimey! You can take a bit of criticism,
can't you?
Criticism?! What you was shouting out
was racial abuse.
Nah. Cor blimey!
We're not racist, not down at West Ham.
You called me...
- Heat of the moment, mate!
- You were slagging me off all afternoon.
"Get your finger out, Sambo."
"What daft bugger paid a million
for that darkie?"
Look, no of fence meant.
None took, I hope.
Blimey! You're a good little player.
Scored a goal, could've had more
if you heeded the advice being given ya.
Bobby Moore always took my advice.
Nothing racist down at West Ham.
Blimey! We've had coons at West Ham
for years.
We was the first club to give yer coons
a game, we was.
How nice. How generous(!)
Do you ever listen to what
you're saying, Mr Garnett?
Listen? I know what I'm saying, mate,
I don't have to listen.
Yeah, I wish I didn't have to, either.
You're in this lad's house,
knocking back his booze
and you're insulting the man
and his missus?
- Who is? Have I insulted you, John-john?
- Yes.
- Have I insulted you, Mrs John-john?
- Yes.
Have I said a word out of place?
Gawd, blimey! He's my biggest fan, he is.
Plays for my club.
He is a guest in my country
and I respect him.
- I was born 'ere.
- Well, your dad's a guest, then.
He was born 'ere.
- All right, your granddad.
- He was...
Born 'ere.
Well...welcome, then,
make yourselves at home.
I mean, we was the first club
to bring you lot over, we was.
Old Reg Pratt, God rest his soul,
Chairman of West Ham,
he brought his lot over.
"Never mind giving 'em
football boots,"
we used to yell out, "just lace their toes
together and put them out there!"
Someone ought to lace up his mouth!
I'd better be going.
I bet you wish you was, an' all.
Yeah.
You know your trouble, Mr Garnett, your
brains are at the wrong end of your body.
But never mind,
I've got a present for you.
What's that?
- A subscription to Euthanasia.
- 'Ere, put that on my tab.
Listen, don't take no notice of him.
He's just the result of a Tory education.
Come on, Mr Garnett, you've had enough.
Come on.
ALF: Up the Hammers!
- Cheers for the drink.
- Come on, you Lions!
'Ere! Did you get this house
off of West Ham?
Blimey! We look after you, don't we?
I don't want to knock 'em -
good little club in a way -
but why don't the directors
buy us some decent players? Eh?
Present company excepted, of course.
I mean, they say they can't afford it.
Football is very expensive these days,
mate. And so is brandy.
I know. You cost us a million, didn't you?
Nah.
- Well, something like that.
- Nothing like that.
Perhaps you're not worth a million.
That's not my point.
I mean, look at your Liverpool, right?
They're supposed to be so poor up there.
If they're so bloody poor,
how is it they can afford...?
Two of your most expensive
football teams in the country...?
If they're so bloody poor,
how can they afford star players?
I don't know,
but I'm sure you're going to tell us.
It's your Welfare, my dear.
Your Welfare's paying, innit?
Your Welfare's paying
the players' wages?!
- How do you work that out?
- All right. Look.
Some of them pick up their Welfare,
straight down the bookie's, but...
- Oh, leave it out.
- Never mind, "Leave it out"!
...a lot more of it
goes through the football turnstiles.
I mean, they're playing three times a week
up there, both clubs.
Where's the money
coming from, eh?
The grounds is packed, packed
to the bloody rafters, they are.
None of 'em are working.
The whole town's on the bloody dole.
So where's the money coming from?
I'll tell you.
It's your Welfare.
Your bloody Liverpool and Everton
are being subsidised
out of your DSS-S-S.
And now we've gone back into Europe,
we've got to play against clubs
supported by yer drug barons.
-Eh?
- Never mind about "eh". Look...
Italy - poor country, right.
As poor as bloody Liverpool.
So where do they get the money from
to buy yer Gazza, eh?
Five million pounds he's costing, and
your David Platt, another five million.
Where's the money coming from?
I'll tell you
where the money's coming from.
- It's your Mafia. It's your Mafia money.
- (LAUGHS)
Never mind bloody laughin', missus.
I'm telling you facts here.
What chance have our English clubs
got in Europe
when all they are
is subsidised out of the DSS-S-S,
playing against clubs supported
by your Mafia money, innit?
L-Listen... Listen...
We've got a lot of criminals
down at West Ham, haven't we?
Yeah, we've got a lot of nutters
down there as well, ain't we?
That's not the point.
We've got our own criminals...
You see 'em sitting up in the stands,
well-known faces in the underworld.
So why don't they go out
and pull a few jobs
and give the money to West Ham?
Answer me that.
Call themselves bloody fans!
Whoo! And another thing -
you take your cricket.
Now, you lot have learnt
to play that quite well...
Thanks very much, love.
Very nice of you. Ta.
Here you are, mate. Some of those bananas
you've been throwin' at me.
Here, just a minute!
- It was only a joke. No of fence.
- Don't worry. No of fence taken.
(HE SCREAMS)
Aah-aah!
Not again! Aaa-aah!
Ow!
Not again!
(LOUD KNOCKING)
Where have you been?
Newcastle! Bloody Newcastle!
(# CHAS AND DAVE:
In Sickness And In Health)
# Now, my old darlin'
They've laid her down to rest
# And now I'm missing her
with all me heart
# But they don't give a monkey's
down the DHSS
# And they've gone and halved me pension
for a start
# So it won't be very long
before I'm by her side
# Cos I'll probably starve to death
That's what I'll do
# For richer or poorer
I'm bloody poorer, that's a fact
# That's cos in sickness and in health
I said "I do".. #
(# Bridal March)
#...In sickness and in health
I said "I do". #
In Sickness And In Health)
# Now, my old darlin'
They've laid her down to rest
# And now I'm missing her
with all me heart
# But they don't give a monkey's
down the DHSS
# And they've gone and halved me pension
for a start
# So it won't be very long
before I'm by her side
# Cos I'll probably starve to death
That's what I'll do
- # For richer or poorer... #
- I'm bloody poorer, that's a fact.
#...That's cos in sickness and in health
I said "I do".. #
(# Bridal March)
#...In sickness and in health
I said "I do". #
FOOTBALL CROWD:
# Here we go, here we go, here we go... #
Help the aged.
Guaranteed supervised parking space.
Help the aged! Help the aged!
Backwards you go. Come on, come on.
Right hand down.
Hold it.
You told me “come on...
Yeah, it's all right. No damage done.
Look at the headlight.
That's all right.
He's not here, is he? I'll tell him
that he drove in the back of you.
Give us your quid.
Thanks very much. Enjoy the match.
MAN: Oi!
Oi! You're blocking the road up.
Just providing a service,
that's all, mate.
Bloody service. It's no bloody service
to us, is it, people who live down here!
Don't be so narrow.
Have a thought for others.
Consider their predicament!
What's this? Help the Aged? What aged?
We're two of 'em "ere.
You're all of 'em, if I know you.
How long's he been in that chair?
He was down the Darby and Joan Club
last night,
tango-ing and trying to get his leg over
with a merry widow.
Go on! For disabled, then, weren't it?
Why don't you clear off
and let us get on with our work, eh?
You're only jealous
cos you never thought of it yourself.
All these streets round here laying empty,
football round the corner...
You've got to show a bit of
entrepreneurialism, mate,
if you want to make a few bob
and get on in this world.
Over there. That's it.
You gotta be with it, mate.
You'll be where it's at.
(CAR HORN BEEPS)
Mr Garnett!
(SHOUTS) Mr Garnett!
More trouble.
I want to park my car!
Yeah. Yeah, I'm sorry,
but I've got a few here before you, mate.
I live there!
I know that,
but I can't show no favouritism.
- First come, first served.
- Right.
This is my bloody house!
Yeah. Yeah, I know - it's a shame, innit?
If you'd been here five minutes ago,
that space was empty.
I protect that space with crates.
I put my crates out every football day.
Yeah, but you're not allowed to, are you?
Not by rights.
This is a public highway.
People pay their road tax
and they're entitled to use it.
That's right. The only people who can stop
anyone parking is the police.
- Exactly.
- Right. Well, I'm getting the police.
I'm going to have the police on you!
Take no notice of him, mate. Come on.
Oh, no, you don't.
Hey!
Move that chair out of the road
or I'm going to run it over.
You just dare. You just dare, mate!
You run over this chair
and I'll ram you with it.
Back! Back, I say.
Look, I am warning you.
You're warning /me? You're warning me?
I'm warning you, mate.
You don't frighten me.
Come on.
I am not bluffing.
Move that chair out of the road
or I'm going to run it down.
Oh, yeah? I dare you.
I dare you! I dare you!
Right, you, you've asked for it.
- You've asked for it.
- Watch out, Alf.
- Watch out.
- He don't frighten me.
Well, he does me. I don't want to
end up in this thing permanent.
You gonna be there all day?
I want to park my car.
Yeah, well, get a move on, then.
Oi! Stick it in there.
Yeah, but he won't move
his bloody wheelchair.
I'm saving this spot
for this gentleman here.
Oh, it's you again, is it, Mr Garnett?
Listen, I'd put something in your milk,
if it wasn't for
Mrs Hollingbery might drink it.
- You shut up.
- Yeah.
And never mind about Mrs Hollingbery,
I'm going to put something in your milk.
I'm going to creep over one morning
and I'm going to put arsenic in it.
MAN SHOUTS: Tomorrow'lL do.
Oh, yeah? I've got witnesses to that,
don't you worry.
I've got friends down this street, mate.
Right?
- I'll see a solicitor and name names.
- He will.
- You'll have a letter...
- Right.
He'll have a letter put in the bank
if anything happens to him.
To be opened on demise
and request an autopsy.
You'll be cut open
and you'll be all in it.
I'll 'ave ya! I'll reach out from
the grave and grab the lot of you!
- Alf!
- What?
It's all right, Michael, not you.
I wouldn't incriminate you.
I know who me friends are.
It's kick-off in ten minutes.
Oh, right, yeah. You grab the wheelchair.
(CAR HORNS BLARE)
Hang on, Alf.
(CAR HORNS AND SHOUTING)
And I'm starting a paper round next week.
A paper round?
Yeah. Lord Beaverbrook
started with a paper round.
Look where he finished up!
Ah, yes, but he was only a young lad
when he started.
Age, Michael. It's all in the mind.
Is it? It's in my bloody legs, too,
and in my back.
- Nothing ventured, eh?
- Well, that's what they say.
I don't know why
I didn't start on it years ago.
My education held me back.
The lack of it, you mean?
Well, that too, yeah.
I never had a chance at university.
You don't need university
to do a paper round.
That's just the start, Michael.
Remember, "Even a thousand-mile journey
begins with a single step."
Who's that, Shakespeare?
Either him or me.
Most probably him.
He wrote about most things.
"Fate shapes our ends,
rough-hew them as we may."
- Shakespeare?
- Very likely. Here's another one.
"A rose by any other name...
"has still got thorns."
- That's poetry, innit?
- Yeah.
He was born round 'ere in Stratford,
wasn't he?
Stratford East. Local lad.
Just down the road, innit?
I seen a play of his once on the telly.
Good story, about a mad prince...
- Hamlet.
- Who?
The cigar fella.
That's the one.
He comes home
off of his holidays in Denmark
to find that his uncle's poisoned
his father, who's the king,
and is now havin' it away with his mum,
who's the queen.
Very nice, I'm sure!
No wonder that lad went mad.
Wouldn't you?
How would Prince Charles like it
if he'd come home from his polo
to find his dad, the Duke of Edinburgh,
with a dose of arsenic in his ear hole?
And his mum, Her Majesty the Queen,
having it away with his murderer?
Course, she wouldn't,
she's above that sort of thing,
but it shows you the dangers
of your permissible society.
- You've got your poetry there.
- Yeah?
- It's comin' out o' you.
- Yeah. Er...
Do you think that would be any help
with the paper round?
Well, it couldn't do no harm, could it?
You take Rupert Murdoch -
he has your poetry.
- And your Getty. And your Grade.
- Lord Grade.
Lord Grade, yes. They all had the poetry.
Everybody
who was anybody in this country,
from your professors at your university
right up to your captains of industry,
all had the poetry.
Have read your Shakespeare. So there
must be something about business in it.
"To be, or not to be.."
Now, that must be about somethin'.
"Tomorrow, and tomorrow...
“and tomorrow."
That's about business, innit?
British business. Never do today
what you can put off until tomorrow.
Shakespeare.
- Yeah. And he was born round 'ere.
- Local lad.
Blimey, he knew a thing or two,
didn't he, eh? Whoo-hoo!
All these books.
Bloody waste!
I mean, who reads 'em?
Oi!
Yes?
I'm looking for the Shakespeare,
do you know where it is?
The pub or the poet?
The poet, for now.
I do me drinkin' in the Lord Tennyson.
Which Shakespeare do you want?
How many are there?
I only thought there was one.
I meant, which play do you want?
- You mean like, what story?
- If you like.
Well, I don't want the Hamlet.
I've already seen that.
- Anything to do with paper rounds?
-Eh?
Like entrepreneurialism,
anything like that.
Not so much with the poetry,
more to do with getting on.
- Do you want a do-it-yourself book?
- Did he write some of those?
- How about the Collected Works?
- Is that by 'im?
Oh. It seems to be out.
- Who's got it?
- I can't disclose that information.
Give us that 'ere.
It's old Mr Carey, he's got it. He lives
down our street, he's a window cleaner.
Oh! He's had it over a year.
- I call that overdue.
- Right!
Get out the bloody way!
Oh!
It's overdue.
I've got a flair for this
entrepreneurialism lark.
I should've gone into business years ago.
I don't know why I didn't.
Look at old Mr Carey's business. It was
only a small business when he started out.
It's still a small business.
- He offered you a part-time job.
- Part-time's no good to me, Michael.
What's this paper round going to be, then?
It's only a morning job.
Yeah, well, there's room to expand it.
All right, I've only got 40 houses
to start with,
but I can turn that into 60 houses,
100 houses...
1,000 houses, 2,000 houses...
The ideas he gets!
He'll be lucky he does two,
the speed he walks.
Besides, see, I was Mr Carey's foreman
in the old days. He was under me.
Well, if I worked for him, I couldn't
very well be under him, could I?
It's what you call protocol, you see?
- You've gotta watch the protocol.
- You can't reverse the order.
- No, you can't reverse the order.
- It wouldn't work. Wouldn't work.
Wouldn't be fair to him.
After all them years as his master,
we'd be embarrassed, see?
I was very important in his life.
Hmph!
I was the one... Well, it was me
who sacked people in them days.
And took them on.
You see, men wanting work
had to come to me
and I had to look them up and down,
weigh up the pros and cons.
They had to form a circle round me, see,
and I stood on a box in the middle,
and then I'd look at 'em.
I'd run me eye over them.
And then I'd nod
to the ones I wanted.
You.
You.
You.
And the others,
I'd just look at them, see,
and they knew
I wasn't going to give them a job,
not unless we was very short-handed.
Desperate, like.
Or they bunged him a few bob.
And you could stand there
on your guv'nor's little box
and take pleasure
in not giving those men a job?
Little working-class Hitler!
No...
They was too idle, too Union.
Cor blimey. Good old days, they was.
Blimey, I was almost Lord Vestey's
right-hand man in them days.
Who was Lord Vestey when he was owt?
Who was Lord Vestey?!
Only owned half the docks, that's all.
Shipping lines, warehouses,
meat packaging, plants.
She wants to know who Lord Vestey was!
Friend of yours, wasn't he, Alf?
- Tknew...
- A friend of Mr Garnett's?
I knew...
Mr Garnett had friends
in very high places in the old days.
- Tknew...
- Didn't you?
- Tknew...
- Mr Garnett?
I knew Lord Vestey, and he knew me.
Like that, we was.
With him on top?
He said to me I was the son
he wished he'd had,
cos his own son didn't turn out too well,
you see.
- Oh, shame.
- Wasn't what he wanted.
"Alf", he said,
"I want you down at Head Office.
"We need you there.
"But if I take you out of my docks,
who can I trust to run them?"
He used to get out of
his Rolls-Royce, see,
and he'd come straight over to me.
"Alf," he'd say, "roll us a fag, go on."
He smoked cigars himself,
but he preferred my roll-ups.
"You're the only man here I can talk to,"
he'd say. And do you know what?
He never once mentioned his money
or let his money come between us.
Or anywhere near ya.
Cheers!
- What are you doing 'ere?
- I brought you some sandwiches,
and to get our paper.
I am delivering the paper.
That has to go through the letter box.
I want it today, not tomorrow.
Bloody street's not 'ere.
Morning, squire. All right?
I didn't disturb you or nothin', did I?
Didn't wake you up?
Was that you making all that racket
on my door?
Yeah, I thought I'd better knock
a bit loud in case you was asleep.
I've got a bit of a problem here.
Can you tell me where Whittaker Road is,
or any of these streets?
Only I got these papers to deliver,
you see.
Sod off!
And sod you too, mate.
Fix him... I'LL fix him!
(CHUCKLES)
(KNOCKER BANGS AGAINST DOOR)
Oh!
Uh!
You...!
(RINGS BELL)
(STIRRING MUSIC)
Come on... Come on.
Come on.
What's the matter with ya?
Whoa-ho! Mush!
Whee-ee!
Go on.
That'lL be it.
- That's what it is.
- (CLANKING)
Right!
- Oi! Oi! What's your game?
- What's my game?
I thought me brakes had gone wrong.
Come on, off.
- Off?
- Off!
Don't you tell me "off", mate.
I'm warning... Hey... Hey!
(SHOUTING) Help!
Help!
Aa-aah!
Wa-ah! Ow!
(LAUGHS)
Oh, Gawd!
Help!
(HORN TOOTS)
Aa-ah.
Help me! Help, I'm drown in"!
Calm down... Hold on.
Here you are. Grab that.
- Help!
- 'Ere. I got you.
- Come on.
-I can't sw.__.
Oi! You're the bloke was slaggin' me off
down at West Ham on Saturday.
- No.
- You know what I ought to do with you?
Help! I can't swim!
Blimey.
Running up and down the touchline,
givin' me all that abuse.
What happened?
What's he doing in the pool?
His wheelchair come down the hill
out of control.
The poor man!
He's not a poor man, he's a fake.
It's you.
It's him.
He plays for West Ham. He's...
Give us your hand. Hand!
-I'm drown...
- Fake. Bleedin' fake.
Come on. Don't worry about fake.
Get him out the water.
Keep coming. That's it.
A bit more.
- Oh! Oh! Oh!
- He don't half weigh, don't he?
- A bit more. That's it.
- Oh, Gawd.
Lay down. Mind your 'ead.
What's the matter with you?
Me glasses.
Here you are, I've got your glasses,
don't worry.
- Move his arms. Get the water out.
- Get out of it.
What you talking about?
Brandy! I want brandy.
I'll give you brandy(!)
I was just giving you a bit of advice
on Saturday.
Blimey! You can take a bit of criticism,
can't you?
Criticism?! What you was shouting out
was racial abuse.
Nah. Cor blimey!
We're not racist, not down at West Ham.
You called me...
- Heat of the moment, mate!
- You were slagging me off all afternoon.
"Get your finger out, Sambo."
"What daft bugger paid a million
for that darkie?"
Look, no of fence meant.
None took, I hope.
Blimey! You're a good little player.
Scored a goal, could've had more
if you heeded the advice being given ya.
Bobby Moore always took my advice.
Nothing racist down at West Ham.
Blimey! We've had coons at West Ham
for years.
We was the first club to give yer coons
a game, we was.
How nice. How generous(!)
Do you ever listen to what
you're saying, Mr Garnett?
Listen? I know what I'm saying, mate,
I don't have to listen.
Yeah, I wish I didn't have to, either.
You're in this lad's house,
knocking back his booze
and you're insulting the man
and his missus?
- Who is? Have I insulted you, John-john?
- Yes.
- Have I insulted you, Mrs John-john?
- Yes.
Have I said a word out of place?
Gawd, blimey! He's my biggest fan, he is.
Plays for my club.
He is a guest in my country
and I respect him.
- I was born 'ere.
- Well, your dad's a guest, then.
He was born 'ere.
- All right, your granddad.
- He was...
Born 'ere.
Well...welcome, then,
make yourselves at home.
I mean, we was the first club
to bring you lot over, we was.
Old Reg Pratt, God rest his soul,
Chairman of West Ham,
he brought his lot over.
"Never mind giving 'em
football boots,"
we used to yell out, "just lace their toes
together and put them out there!"
Someone ought to lace up his mouth!
I'd better be going.
I bet you wish you was, an' all.
Yeah.
You know your trouble, Mr Garnett, your
brains are at the wrong end of your body.
But never mind,
I've got a present for you.
What's that?
- A subscription to Euthanasia.
- 'Ere, put that on my tab.
Listen, don't take no notice of him.
He's just the result of a Tory education.
Come on, Mr Garnett, you've had enough.
Come on.
ALF: Up the Hammers!
- Cheers for the drink.
- Come on, you Lions!
'Ere! Did you get this house
off of West Ham?
Blimey! We look after you, don't we?
I don't want to knock 'em -
good little club in a way -
but why don't the directors
buy us some decent players? Eh?
Present company excepted, of course.
I mean, they say they can't afford it.
Football is very expensive these days,
mate. And so is brandy.
I know. You cost us a million, didn't you?
Nah.
- Well, something like that.
- Nothing like that.
Perhaps you're not worth a million.
That's not my point.
I mean, look at your Liverpool, right?
They're supposed to be so poor up there.
If they're so bloody poor,
how is it they can afford...?
Two of your most expensive
football teams in the country...?
If they're so bloody poor,
how can they afford star players?
I don't know,
but I'm sure you're going to tell us.
It's your Welfare, my dear.
Your Welfare's paying, innit?
Your Welfare's paying
the players' wages?!
- How do you work that out?
- All right. Look.
Some of them pick up their Welfare,
straight down the bookie's, but...
- Oh, leave it out.
- Never mind, "Leave it out"!
...a lot more of it
goes through the football turnstiles.
I mean, they're playing three times a week
up there, both clubs.
Where's the money
coming from, eh?
The grounds is packed, packed
to the bloody rafters, they are.
None of 'em are working.
The whole town's on the bloody dole.
So where's the money coming from?
I'll tell you.
It's your Welfare.
Your bloody Liverpool and Everton
are being subsidised
out of your DSS-S-S.
And now we've gone back into Europe,
we've got to play against clubs
supported by yer drug barons.
-Eh?
- Never mind about "eh". Look...
Italy - poor country, right.
As poor as bloody Liverpool.
So where do they get the money from
to buy yer Gazza, eh?
Five million pounds he's costing, and
your David Platt, another five million.
Where's the money coming from?
I'll tell you
where the money's coming from.
- It's your Mafia. It's your Mafia money.
- (LAUGHS)
Never mind bloody laughin', missus.
I'm telling you facts here.
What chance have our English clubs
got in Europe
when all they are
is subsidised out of the DSS-S-S,
playing against clubs supported
by your Mafia money, innit?
L-Listen... Listen...
We've got a lot of criminals
down at West Ham, haven't we?
Yeah, we've got a lot of nutters
down there as well, ain't we?
That's not the point.
We've got our own criminals...
You see 'em sitting up in the stands,
well-known faces in the underworld.
So why don't they go out
and pull a few jobs
and give the money to West Ham?
Answer me that.
Call themselves bloody fans!
Whoo! And another thing -
you take your cricket.
Now, you lot have learnt
to play that quite well...
Thanks very much, love.
Very nice of you. Ta.
Here you are, mate. Some of those bananas
you've been throwin' at me.
Here, just a minute!
- It was only a joke. No of fence.
- Don't worry. No of fence taken.
(HE SCREAMS)
Aah-aah!
Not again! Aaa-aah!
Ow!
Not again!
(LOUD KNOCKING)
Where have you been?
Newcastle! Bloody Newcastle!
(# CHAS AND DAVE:
In Sickness And In Health)
# Now, my old darlin'
They've laid her down to rest
# And now I'm missing her
with all me heart
# But they don't give a monkey's
down the DHSS
# And they've gone and halved me pension
for a start
# So it won't be very long
before I'm by her side
# Cos I'll probably starve to death
That's what I'll do
# For richer or poorer
I'm bloody poorer, that's a fact
# That's cos in sickness and in health
I said "I do".. #
(# Bridal March)
#...In sickness and in health
I said "I do". #