Good Neighbors (1975–1978): Season 3, Episode 3 - A Tug of the Forelock - full transcript

Whoa, whoa. That's far enough.

- Ah! Get off! Get off! You're strangling me!
- Sorry! Sorry.

Oh... It's no good.
I'll have to get a proper horse's collar.

- Or a proper horse.
- Now, don't start that again.

- We are not getting a horse. It's not practical.
- No. I suppose this is.

You're quite right. You're quite right.

I've tried repairing it,
but I'm inclined to think this model has had it.

I've been inclined to think that
for the past two weeks.

Do you think the British Transport Museum
would like it?

(Rattling)

Do you see what I see?



Good lord. It's Jerry mowing his own lawn.

Has the world gone mad?

- That's the stuff, Jerry.
- Come on, Jerry. You can do it.

- Go away!

We're in our own garden.
We can stand in our garden if we want.

Don't talk to me.

- Jerry...
- What?

Hello.

You're er...
You're supposed to mow round those.

We're going!

Right, say, "Aah!"

Aah!

Did you see Jeanette MacDonald
and Nelson Eddy in Rose-Marie?

No. I don't remember silent films.



You can't have a silent musical, can you?

Oh, no. So?

- They had one, I think.
- One what?

A log-burning stove.

Makes you think, doesn't it?

Of what?

Nothing.

I'll just pop upstairs
and get your restraint harness.

(Knock at the door)

- Hello, Margo.
- Barbara, I'm sorry. I have a crisis.

- I wondered if Tom could help.
- For you, Margo, anything.

Please, don't be silly, Tom. This is serious.

My vacuum cleaner won't stop whistling.

Yes, I see. Any particular tune?

- Good morning.
- No, Margo, wait!

I'll have a look at it.

- It's probably the motor.
- The bag's full.

- Is it picking up at all?
- No, nothing.

- The bag's full.
- I'll take off the cowling and have a look at it.

I'll just get my screwdriver.

There you are, Margo.
You see, the bag was full.

Yes, that was the trouble. The bag was full.

And the whistling was the signal.

Oh, yes. I remember. There was something
in the brochure about whistling.

Have you never changed the bag before?

Certainly not. Mrs Pierson is my cleaner
and that is her province.

Except when she decides to let me down
by going away on holiday.

Ah... Hence Jerry mowing his own lawn.

Mr Pierson, the gardener,
must have gone on holiday with his wife.

- Yes. For a month, if you please.
- A month?!

- Yes.
- How appalling.

Servants going on holiday, leaving the gentry
to fend for themselves? It's disgusting.

Well, I wouldn't mind if the Piersons
had arranged their own replacements,

but no, it was simply,
"isn't it wonderful, Mrs Leadbetter?

The chance of a lifetime to see our
grandchildren in Canada," and off they went.

Couldn't you go to an agency
for temporary help?

In this day and age? You can't get them.

They've all been listening to that Clive Jenkins.

People seem to think that cleaning a house
or tending a garden is beneath their dignity.

- Like you and Jerry?
- No, not like me and Jerry.

We are employers.
We equate with the CBI in this situation.

I mean, you would think some little couple would
welcome £20 a week for light part-time work.

- People are too well off.
- Yes, they are.

- Know where the next penny's coming from.
- Yes, they do.

- A bit of insecurity, that's what they need.
- I couldn't agree...

I just realised that once again,
lam the butt of your childish humour.

And so you deserve to be. What's so tragic
about doing your own housework for a month?

These. They're beginning to look like yours.

I'll poke you in the eye in a minute.

No, I'm sorry, Barbara,
but you know what I mean.

I am not one of nature's little housewives,

and for that matter,
Jerry is not one of nature's little gardeners.

- Well, there's a simple solution, you know.
- What?

Jerry does the housework
and you do the garden.

I really must get you a cap and bells, Tom.

What a fuss about nothing. She should try
coping with our transport problem.

- Oh, our trolley, you mean.
- Well, I suppose we'd better make a new one.

Better roll up our trousers and get up the pond.

- Why?
- Start dredging for some old pram wheels.

- That's where I found the last lot.
- No, no, no.

I've been thinking. Whatever sort of trolley
we made, we'd still have to push it.

Even with your strength,
there's a limit to how much we can haul.

We must make ten trips a week
just to feed that thing.

Yes. That's not counting
carting stuff from the allotments.

I did have thoughts
of building a land yacht once,

but tacking in traffic's not really on.

Of course, if you had half a brain,
you'd invent an engine that runs on water.

Yeah. I'm just thick, I suppose.

Engine! Why didn't I think of it before'?

We've already got an engine.
The rotary cultivator.

We only use it a few weeks of the year.
It just sits there the rest of the time.

The rotary cultivator's no good.
We can't belt along, ploughing up the pavement.

No. Wait a minute. Wait a minute...

Where are they? Ah!

Now, let's see... Look, look, look...

Now, then,
bad drawing of rotary cultivator, right?

Al right? Right.

Now, I take the working head off, right?

I add a sort of cart on the back, right?

Put a seat on it, couple it up...

It would work. I'm sure it will work.

You couldn't knock up a press
while you're at it, could you?

- What for?
- To print the money for the extra petrol.

Wait a minute, though...

Look. It wouldn't be that expensive. Now, look...

What would you get
out of a rotary cultivator?

100mpg? Well, perhaps less with a load.

Right, now... All right, now, two-star petrol
at, what, about 77p a gallon?

52 weeks in the year...

Ah, plus oil.

Right, now, two.. five...

Carry one... So...

There. Ah, now, if we don't do
more than 50 miles a week,

we could run this thing for 20 or 30 quid a year.

Now, that's not a lot of money, is it?

- No, that's not.
- Right, now...

How much actual cash have we got
at the moment?

£1.28.

Quite warm out, isn't it?

- Yes, very pleasant.
- Pleasanter than yesterday.

Swapsies. We could swap something for petrol.

No. All our swapsies are earmarked,
including the piglets.

- Well, I suppose there's always...
- No, no, no, no.

I'm saving your body for a rainy day.

It's so annoying, though, isn't it?

30 measly quid standing between us
and efficient transport!

- Tom...
- Yeah?

Have you ever thought of going into service?

Why don't you just throw
a bucket of mud on the floor?

Look, I've just cut my finger,
clipping your blasted hedge!

Don't swear, Jerry.
And don't bleed in the sink. I've just cleaned it.

- I'm sorry.
- And don't throw rubbish in the rubbish bin.

- Why on earth not?
- I've just emptied it.

- It will fill up again sooner or later.
- It'll do that without your help.

Is it all right if I sit down
in my own chair in my own house?

No, it is not.

- You are coming to the bedroom with me.
- Oh.

And you can forget that sort of thing
for the next month, Jerry.

I shall be too exhausted
with this housework.

- Now, you tuck sides, and I tuck corners.
- What are you talking about, woman?

Beds do not make themselves, Jerry.
And don't "woman" me.

I wish I'd gone on holiday with the Piersons.

- And leave me with the gardening too!
- For heaven's sake, the ga...

- Er... Ah... Voices raised... Bad time?
- No, no. Come in.

Yes, come in.
Why don't you bring all your pigs with you?

Let's have filthy footprints all over the place!
Let's make the place really filthy! Yes, let's!

Housework getting you down, Margo?

Yes, it is. I've just been on my hands and knees
cleaning that floor.

Now, look, calm down, Margo.

We've found you a couple
to stand in for the Piersons.

- You have? Who?
- Us.

- You?
- Yes.

- Why?
- We need some money and you've got it.

You're on. A month of this
and she'll drive me mad.

She? First it's "woman", now it's "she"!

00:10:45,920 --> 00:10:48,639
Will you kindly use my name, Jerry?

And kindly consult me before making decisions
about our domestic arrangements.

- What's to decide?
- Right.

We're godsends, Margo.
We're hard-working, clean, English.

And we won't pinch the silver.
Not the good stuff anyway.

That's exactly what I mean.

Flippancy from friends is just bearable.
From domestics, it's intolerable.

OK, OK. Flippancy is out.

We won't speak until we're spoken to
and we'll tug our forelocks left, right and centre.

I don't know.
It could be such an ambiguous relationship.

Well, try it. After all, you don't want to end up
with hands like mine, do you?

True.

But the very idea of giving
one's friends orders is terribly embarrassing.

- I don't think I could do it.
- A month can seem a long time.

Yes...

Very well. Clean that mess up, will you,
and polish the floor.

You might as well do the windows
whilst you're at it,

the oven, of course, the bed's to be made,

oh, and don't forget
the littlest room in the house.

I'm going to lie down.

- Come on, Tweeny. We're on.
- Right.

Well, I'll see you later.

Hmm... Saucy little minx.

Hello, love.

Hello.

Margo?

If she tells me once more that I don't hoover
into the corners like Mrs Pierson,

I will kill her.

- Well, you know Margo.
- Not this Margo, I don't.

It's like being under surveillance by the CIA.

Everywhere I go, there are eyes peering at me,

over furniture, round the door
and through the keyhole.

She probably believed
that crack about pinching the silver.

Rubbish. She's just a pathological supervisor.

Well, she doesn't bother me in the garden much.

Just comes out when I turn up,
does a bit of tsk-tsk-tsk

and goes back in the house again.

It could have something to do with
my dangerous animal presence.

Don't you believe it.
She just wants to follow me about the house.

She's afraid if she leaves me alone,
I might put an ornament back an inch off centre.

Never mind. It's only for a month.
We've done a week already and it's worth it.

- This could be the hit at this year's motor show.
- If British Rail don't take their trolley back.

They didn't want it
when it was rusting on that embankment.

- I think Will Hay was the last person to use this.
- Who's Will Hay?

- Child.
- Tom.

Yep?

When it's finished, can we run Margo over in it?

(Laughs)

- You've really got your knife into your employer.
- She's impossible!

I don't think Mrs Pierson went on holiday at all.

I think she went to a clinic
with a nervous breakdown.

- Can't you laugh the whole thing off?
- Only hysterically!

- Don't lose your sense of humour.
- Oh, you are impossible!

It's a waste of time talking to you.
You're in one of your "life is a cabaret" moods!

Well it is, isn't it?
Us working for Margo is funny, isn't it?

We know she's bossy, pernickety.
Because we know it it's funny, just funny.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk...

For your information, Tom, it is 2:37.

Mr Pierson always started work
at 2:15 on Fridays,

and I expect you to do the same.

Now, come along.

Who the hell does she think she is?

I'll smash her face in.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk...

Tsk!

Hello, darling.

That Friday night traffic on London Bridge
is the worst.

Best part of an hour tonight.

To crown it all, some pimply police cadet
was trying to direct traffic.

If a police cadet were the total of my troubles,
I'd be a happy woman. Good evening, Jerry.

- Why? What's the matter?
- Tom and Barbara.

- What have they been up to now?
- Nothing much.

They just humiliated me in front of the
Surbiton Ladies Conservative Association.

- All of them?
- Yes.

They turned Mrs Hornsby's lecture on The
Curse Of Socialism On The Algarve into a farce.

- That can't have been difficult.
- It was most interesting, Jerry.

Mrs Hornsby had us in the palm of her hand

until Barbara came in with the canapés.

- Did she throw them at someone?
- No.

Under the guise of passing plates, she
made silly silhouettes on the projector screen.

(Laughs)

- Good old Barbara.
- Itis not good old Barbara.

It is silly, silly Barbara! And as for Tom...

- Silly?
- Obscene.

I had to draw the curtains.

- What was he doing?
- Leering at Mrs Hornsby from the garden.

And making gestures towards the shrubbery
with his head.

(Guffaws)

- Trust you to laugh.
- You know them. You know what they're like.

Yes, but I do not expect them to be like it
when they're in my employ.

- They'll have to change their tune.
- Well, here they are.

- You'd better tell them.
- You tell them.

- You're the master of the house.
- Am[? Oh.

Now, see here, you snivelling menials,
you'd better buck your ideas up

or I'll take a crop to the pair of you.

Ooh, sorry, sir. Beg pardon, sir.

Forgive us, sir, for coming up to the big house
without going through the sheep-dip first.

Stand in the corner and don't speak
or I'll set the dogs on you. What do you want?

Well, sir, we were wondering, sir, if you could
see your way clear to giving us a bit of wages?

You see, sir,
because we haven't had any wages for ages.

We wouldn't ask; sir,
only we've had to sell eight children already.

- Oh, really!
- Oh, I beg pardon ma'am. I didn't see you there.

Curtsy, girl, curtsy.

Oh, I'm ever so sorry, ma'am,
for standing on the carpet.

Don't you think it's wearing rather thin?

No. It's a lovely bit of carpet, that.

Oh, shut up! Do! You're like a pair of hyenas!

(Slams door)

(Both splutter)

(Knocking)

- That looks nice.
- Does it?

Now, look, Margo,
I mean, we were only playing about.

Don't touch me.

Margo, we are sorry, really, but...

you've got to keep things
in proportion, haven't you?

Don't lecture me on keeping things
in proportion, Barbara.

My life was in perfect proportion
until you replaced the Piersons.

They knew their station and I knew mine.

And if you say Charing Cross, Tom,
I shall throw this salad at you.

- I wasn't going to say Charing Cross.
- Hmph!

- I was going to say St Pancras.
- There you are! You see?

You take nothing seriously! You two are
a microcosm of what is wrong with society.

Nobody takes anything seriously and we wonder
why this country can't produce a decent car.

- I'd go easy with that Tabasco if I were you.
- I'll do what I like with my Tabasco!

Now, look, Margo...

I know we made a joke of the situation,
but it's just our way, isn't it?

- Well, it isn't mine.
- All right, then, let's look for a compromise.

There's no need. I have the solution.

- Well, good. What is it?
- You're both sacked.

(Sobs)

Oh, Barbara, don't cry, love.

I'm laughing!

- Why?
- Margo giving us the sack.

Yeah. It is a bit bizarre, isn't it?

Not too many people can say
they've been sacked by their neighbours.

I think she's wonderful. She really is.

- I'd never have the nerve.
- Quite! Oh, quite!

None of your,
"Let's get both sides round a table."

None of your independent tribunals,
just "Get out! You're fired!" Wallop.

- I wonder how she'd get on with Hugh Scanlon.
- Yeah, well, it could be the fight of the century.

I tell you what, let's cover up the Mk1.

We don't want
those spies from Ferrari pinching our design.

No. Right.

Mind you, it's not really a laughing matter, is it?

I mean, after all,
the whole point was to get this on the road.

Don't worry.
We're owed £2250 for the week's work.

- That will run this for ten months.
- That's true.

- Are you tired?
- No.

Good. Let's go to bed, then.

Right.

- Hello, gooseberry.
- What?

- Never mind. What do you want?
- I'm a slave to my own good manners.

- I've come to apologise.
- Oh, Jerry, that's all right.

- We asked for it.
- We didn't expect it, but we got it.

- That's very noble of you.
- Even peasants can be noble.

Apart from burning haystacks,
there will be no reprisals.

- That's good. Good night, then.
- Oil What about our wages?

- Oh, yes, of course. Cheque all right?
- Sooner have cash.

Oh, very well.

How much was it? £307 £40?

It's like Monopoly money to you, isn't it? £22.50.

Hmm... You come cheap, don't you?

I'm the 22. He's the 50.

Well, I suppose that's about right.
I shall be very sorry to see you go.

I believe that's what one generally says
to departing domestics.

What puzzles me
is why you took the job in the first place.

- Why?
- Working for somebody else for money.

It does rather smack of that crass
commercialism you purport to despise.

- Only when it's a permanent state.
- Like yours.

Thank you.

When we need something,
we can't buy it, so we swap for it.

What we swapped this time
was our manpower and womanpower.

Yeah. By the way, you never did tell me
why you wanted that money.

Oh, yeah.
Er... shall we show him?

- He's got an honest face.
- I suppose so.

- Ta-dal
- Good God!

And the £22.50 will run it.

I didn't realise
elastic bands came that expensive.

I might tell you
that NASA are very interested in this.

- It could double as a moon buggy.
- The moon's the best place for it.

You're just jealous.

We're going to be the envy of Surbiton in this,
back and forth to our allotments.

How much did they rush you for the insurance?

- What?
- And the road tax?

- What?
- You haven't got any, have you?

- I have.
- You haven't.

- I have!
- Has he?

Jerry, you don't think Tom would blunder
into a thing like this

without considering road tax
and insurance, do you?

Ask him.

Did you?

Haven't you got a home to go to, Leadbetter?

(Chuckles)

(Knocking)

Are you talking to us today, Margo?

Barbara, Tom, how nice to see you.

Do come in.

We thought you might still be angry with us.

I was only angry with you yesterday as servants.
Today, you're friends and I'm glad to see you.

You still don't understand, do you, Tom?

You see, life, for me, is a series of pigeon holes.

Ah, and today, we are the right pigeons
in the right pigeon hole.

Exactly.

That's a shame,
because we want to change holes.

We want to become domestics again.

- Not in my house.
- We can't in our house, because we live there.

No. I'm sorry.
If it's a question of references...

Oh, Margo, we're not thinking
of going into service as a career.

It's a short-term arrangement
for our mutual benefit.

Mutual, Barbara? I think not.

Oh, come on! We did the jobs properly.

I grant you that,
but you also behaved like the Marx Brothers.

- We didn't.
- You did.

- We didn't.
- You did!

Tom!
Margo, we are reformed characters.

- Truly, we are.
- I don't believe it for a moment.

All right, then, we will be.

I admit we did muck about but take us back
and we'll do our duties as po-faced as you like.

"Po" you see? You couldn't use
a sensible word like "sensibly", could you?

- It had to be po.
- All right, as sensibly-faced as you like.

(Chortles)

There you go again.
You're hopeless. It just wouldn't work.

Look, Margo,
I'd be out in the garden most of the time.

If any of your ladies turn up,
I'll lock myself in the shed.

No, no, no. I'd sooner do the housework myself
than go through last week again.

- You wouldn't.
- [ would.

But it's such a big house, Margo.

It wouldn't leave you any time
for social functions,

and it would only be for three weeks,
till the Piersons got back.

This is the trouble with housework.

When you hate it, it never seems to end.

I mean, there's the floors to clean
and the windows to polish and beds to make...

Well, it just goes on and on and on...

- Oh, all right!
- Thanks, Margo.

- Can we have three weeks' money in advance?
- For sheer nerve, Tom, you take the prize.

- In cash.
- First prize.

- Now, listen to me, Tom.
- Yes, Margo?

I have Mrs Dooms-Paterson
coming to tea on Tuesday.

If you do to her what you did to Mrs Hornsby
through my French window,

I shall feel perfectly justified
in asking for this money back.

Yes, Margo.

That goes for you too, Barbara,
when you're serving gingerbread men.

- Yes, Margo.
- Very well.

Sherry, I think.

I suppose there's no hope of this money going
towards buying you new clothes, Barbara?

- No chance.
- I thought not.

- It's for our vehicle. Didn't Jerry tell you about it?
- No. A car?

- Well kind of.
- At least that's a step in the right direction.

You take precious few of those these days.

Now, a toast, I think.

Here's to relationships being kept in their proper
pigeon holes for the next three weeks.

And no droppings of any ornaments
when you do the housework, Barbara.

Mmm. Well, half past two.
I'm off to the garden. I'll mow the lawn.

- I'd sooner you pruned my Ena Harkness.
- I'll prune your Ena Harkness.

- Thank you, Tom.
- Not at all, Margo.

Now, Margo, where would you like me to start?

I can't tell you what music that is
to my ears, Barbara.

- Polishing, I think.
- Right.

Polishing it is.

- Shall we ask Tom and Barbara?
- Good idea.

- Care for a lunchtime drink, you two?
- We've discovered a super pub.

- Right. Lovely!
- Smashing!

- Good. Come on.
- Its all right. We'll come in our own car.

- You don't know the way.
- OK. We'll follow you.

- I still haven't seen this new car of theirs, Jerry.
- Haven't you, darling?

(Rotovator engine starts)

(Backfires)

Oh, my God!
Drive on, Jerry!

- But they don't know the way to the pub.
- I know. Drive on!

Hey! Wait for us! I can only do 7%2mph!