Good Neighbors (1975–1978): Season 3, Episode 6 - Whose Fleas Are These? - full transcript

Ah, it's funny, you know.

Do you realise, at this moment,
millions of people in the country

are just sitting, goggling at their televisions?

- Yes.
- We're not, are we, love?

- We haven't got a television.
- Good job, too. Gets in the way.

- What of?
- Well, the proper use of the human mind.

I mean, how many people actually sit down
and read a good book any more?

- I don't.
- You do. You're reading one now.

I'm not. I'm being interrupted by you.

Sorry.

Ah...



Four! (Mimics cheering crowd)

Yes, I know what you mean, Tom.

I think I'd go mad if I were married to a zombie.

- Would you?
- Mm. I thank my lucky stars

that I'm married to a man
who can talk about cultivating the human mind,

and play schoolboy cricket games while doing it.

- You little rat!
- Well, it's true. What's this?

(Laughs)
"Tom Good's 11 versus International Musicians."

- So?
- Well, who ever heard of Dizzy Gillespie

opening the bowling with Pierre Boulez?

- I can pick who I like.
- Well, why don't you pick cricketers?

I've run out of cricketers.

But choosing your own team is using the mind.

Oh?



Ah, the World Religious Leaders 11
didn't do very well, did they?

No. If I say it myself,
I bowled pretty well that day.

(Chuckles) Yes, you did.

"The Pope: LBW. Good: 3"

(Laughs) "The Dalai Lama: caught and bowled.
Good: 7."

- Can I have my book back, please?
- No, wait. Why aren't you ever out?

L'am out.
I was clean-bowled by Hedy Lamarr last week.

What was she in? Your Dirty Old Man's 117

No, my fantasy 11, if you must know.

- Oh, who else is in your fantasy 117
- Never you mind.

All right. You go back to knocking
Dizzy Gillespie's bowling all over the place.

I'll go back to my book. All right?

All right.

(Chuckling)

Oh, no.

Oh, no!

- What?
- I'm out.

- Never mind.
- I was just getting into my stride, as well.

- How many runs had you got?
- 279.

It's as good as won the match.

What are you going to do now?
Nuclear physics?

No. I'm going to sit down in front of the old range
and do my impression of a contented man.

Do you mind? Can I get in there?

Thank you.

(Sighs)

No, read your book. Go on.

I would. Only, your impression of a contented
man is never a silent contented man.

- Will you just sit?
- Yes, yes. Goon. Go on.

(Sighs)

Huh! Rubbish.

- Good old range.
- Hm. Good old range.

(Rumbling)

Why did it do that?

I don't know.

It's never done that before.

Well, don't take it personally.
I don't think it was making a statement.

The chimney probably needs sweeping.

(Rumbling)

- It's done it again.
- Well, the chimney probably needs sweeping.

- You said that.
- Look, I'll have a go at it tomorrow. OK?

- Yes, you better had.
- What are you so worried about?

- Well, it's never done that before.
- Look, it's telling us to get its chimney swept.

Just a sort of gentle warning. Typical
of this range's nice nature. Good old range!

(Rumbling)

(Door bell)

- Oh, my God!
- It's only us, Margo.

Yes, it is. What... what have you been doing?

- Er... can we come in? It's starting to rain.
- Yes, of course, but...

It's all right. We've brought our own newspaper.

- I thought I heard your voices. Hello.
- Hello, Jerry.

How can you be so casual?
Look at the state of them.

Well, they're always in some sort of state.

But we're not normally covered in soot.

It's nothing to boast about. What happened?

Well, we hadn't swept the chimney.

- So it swept itself. Downwards. Whoosh!
- So we came round for a bath.

Well, I'm sorry, Tom and Barbara, but no.
Make your own bath dirty.

Well, we would.
Only, we don't have any hot water.

Oh, dear. It's one disaster after another.

No, it's the same disaster. The soot
put the fire out, and the fire heats the water.

Oh, all right.
What colour bath salts - blue or green?

Oh, blue, please.

- Er... can I borrow your rubber duck?
JERRY: Certainly not.

I sometimes wonder what you'd do
if you didn't have us next door.

Well...

Would you like one of our drinks,
while you're waiting to use our bath?

Oh, no, we've got to draw the line somewhere.
Two large gin and tonics, please.

Very well. Only, erm...

Yes, we'll try and keep our fall-out
to the minimum.

Thank you, Barbara.

(Chuckles) Mind you, that soot wasn't altogether
abad thing. We can use it on the garden.

Yes, I suppose we can... Tom!

- What?
- Hand!

Oh... oh er...

- Oh, I can't take you anywhere!
- It come off.

Oh, erm...

Thank you.

Well, isn't this...

No. I was going to say, "Isn't this nice?"
But it isn't, really, is it?

It's different, though.

The bath's running.
What are we doing out here?

- We're having drinks in the hall.
- Well, we didn't want to make anything dirty.

Different, anyway.

Thank you, darling.

Well, isn't it... No, I said that.

How's the traffic on London Bridge, Jerry?

Best part of an hour and ten minutes tonight.

Dear, dear.

(Chuckles)

It's hard having a chat in somebody's hall,
isn't it?

- Yes.
- (All chuckle)

- Especially when you're covered in soot!
- (Dully) Yes.

- Perhaps, if we were all covered in soot...
- Jerry!

Oh, I know something interesting
we can talk about.

Mrs Dooms-Patterson's horse has dropsy.

(Laughs)

Now, what's funny about that?

Well, it's the inevitability of it, really. I mean,
Mrs Dooms-Patterson must weigh 20 stone.

Tom! She is the wife
of the local Conservative agent.

- What's that got to do with her weight?
- Good manners.

We leave personal insults to the socialists.

"We"? Margo, you underlined that.

Oh, well, it's out now.
I suppose I'd better tell you.

I had tea with Mrs Dooms-Patterson
this afternoon,

and she has prevailed upon me to become
an active force for the local Conservative Party,

when the country demands a general election.

Oh, Lord! That means she'll be coming here,
breaking the furniture.

I'd have thought that was a small price to pay
for ousting this rabble. Who moved that picture?

- Don't look at me.
- I suppose it just moved itself.

Does anyone have anything to say?

- Shall I have my bath now?
- I think you'd better.

- Yes, come along, Tom.
- Barbara, aren't you going to finish your drink?

- No, it's all right. We'll hop in together.
- Together?

Hmm. It's quite nice.
You ought to try it sometime.

Well, really! Did you hear that, Jerry?

- Yes.
- Together!

Certainly not!

Margo didn't lend me one of her coats, did she?

Well, you'd look silly in ocelot.

Well, I could have looked quite nice
in the old powder-blue one, though.

- (Sighs)
- (Tom chuckles)

- What do you think you're doing?
- Having a lie-down before bed.

No, you're not.
We've got a sooty kitchen to clean up. Come on.

- (Groans)
- Let's have you.

Ah. Barbara...

- We've just had a bath, haven't we?
- Yes.

We should have cleaned up the soot
before we had the bath, you see.

Yes, well, if you had any sort of a brain,
you'd have thought of it.

- What about you?
- I did think of it.

- Well, why didn't you say?
- (Laughing) I forgot.

Well, we can't go back to Margo's again,
can we?

Oh, never mind. Let's do it tomorrow.
We'll have our own water heated up by then.

Yes, yes, yes. Quite true, yes.

Well, I think I'll just have a little rest
before I go to bed.

- Oh, that's not fair! I was there first.
- You shouldn't have got up, then.

Oh, whatever happened
to equal rights for women?

(Chuckles)
No, you're not gonna get me up by jogging.

- No, I'm not jogging. I've got an itch.
- We'll have you de-loused tomorrow.

- Look. Is there a bite there or something?
- Well, let's have a look.

Yes, I think you have. You've got... What's that?

- What?
- You've got something on your leg.

- Oh, yes?
- No, no. Keep still. Keep still. Still.

- Got it.
- What is it? Deathwatch beetle?

No, it... it looks like a flea.

- Tom, that isn't funny.
- Look.

(Screams)

Tom... I've got fleas!

- Its all right, love.
- No. Don't touch me!

Look, it's all right...

- Oh...!
- (Shrieks)

(Whistles cheerfully)

(Tom coughing)

- Morning.
- (Dully) Morning.

Barbara, what on earth are you doing?

I'm... I'm just looking for them.

Them? "Them" were giant ants in a film.
We've only got fleas.

- Only?
- Well, you won't track them down individually.

What are you looking for?
Footprints in the soot?

This is just another laugh to you, isn't it?

It's just another little problem that fate
throws your way, so that you can overcome.

- Now, don't get ratty.
- Well, it's awful having fleas!

- I know it is.
- Well, then!

Well, this isn't like you at all. If an elephant
charged through that door, you'd see him off.

A few fleas, and you go to pieces.

Well, it's awful.

They're small and... they're dirty.
And they go, "Zzzz."

- What?
- Well, you know what I mean.

Yes, I do, but if we're going
to tackle this problem,

I want a wife who's going to fight beside me
in the trenches,

not some idiot who won't leave the dugout.

Oh, all right. What are we going to do?

That's better. Now,
we've got to tackle this problem from scratch.

Don't say "scratch”.

Sorry. Source. Now, these fleas
obviously come from our animals. Right?

Yes, I suppose so. Except Geraldine.

Now, look. Just because you like that goat
doesn't prove her innocence.

She's having a ducking, as well.

- A ducking? What in?
- In that.

- What is it?
- Kills 101 per cent of all germs, including fleas.

- Are you sure it won't kill the animals?
- Not if they keep their mouths closed.

I'll be careful.

Yes, all right. I'll start a purge on the house.

Right.

Tom...

What?

Are you sure
we shouldn't have told the authorities?

Look, I told you - it's a last resort.
They might confiscate our animals.

If we can clear this up by ourselves,
no-one need ever know.

But what if we pass them on to other people?

Well, that's simple.
Just keep other people away. Right?

All right.

- (Splutters and groans)
- Get used to the smell.

- Why?
- You're going in here later.

(Coughs)

Morning.

Look, I only...

(Mouthing)

Ah, er... push it under the door.

I can't...

Er. leave it then.

No. You have to sign for it.

Look, I'm going to open the door a little bit.

But I want you to stand well back, please.

Further back, please. Further back.

- Bloody Rod Steiger!
- Who?

- Rod Steiger. I put this at his door.
- Put what?

- Making women terrified of anyone who calls.
- Why Rod Steiger?

That film where he turned up in disguise
andkilled women.

All right, he's got to make a living.
But why couldn't he have made a musical?

Yeah, but I'm not frightened of you.

- Oh, well ..
- No! Stay back! Stay!

You are, dear. You're terrified.

Now, what can I do to prove I'm not in disguise?
I know. I'll show you a photo of my wife.

- No, you don't have to.
- No, you'll feel better.

There she is, at the depot dinner-dance.

And that's me in the background,
with the funny nose.

Now, would I be at such a function
if I was not a bona-fide postman?

Look, I know you're not in disguise,

but could you please put the parcel
on the ground... please?

Well, whatever makes you feel safe.
There you are. And the book, as well?

Yes, please.

Thank you.

I'd get yourself one of those ammonia squirters,
if I were you.

- Was it MGM?
- Who?

Who made that film?

Because I'm writing to them, telling them what
sort of effect their products are having here.

Oh...! (Blowing)

Oh...!

Why did you blow on my book?

Er... Oh, I thought
you might have soaked it in ether.

What did we used to be, eh? Us postmen.
Friendly neighbourhood characters.

And now, thanks to bloody Rod Steiger, we're all
potential murderers with ether-soaked books.

It's not right. It's not right.

You can come in for a cup of tea next week!

(Cockerel squawking)

(Panting)

He's mad, that cockerel. He's mad.

- Didn't he enjoy his bath?
- He didn't have it.

I can't catch him.
He won't have it. I can't do anything with him.

Ah..yes.

Yes.

Right, then, Lenin.
Now let's see who's master of the chicken run.

Oh, your catalogue's come.

Oh, good. Good. Good.

Ah, that means the postman's been.
You didn't...?

No, but it's going to be awfully difficult
with callers, Tom.

Why?

Well, I can't just shout,
"Get away! I've got parasites." Can I?

And I've had a horrible thought. Margo and Jerry
always come round. How do we get them away?

Well, perhaps we could say
we've got Michael Foot staying.

Oh... Tom!

I've had an even more horrible thought.

Wedgie Benn?

No, no. I think we might be closing
the stable door after the horse has bolted.

- How come?
- No...

Well, we went round to Margo's
for a bath last night, didn't we?

What if we took a visitor or two with us?

Oh, strewth!

I do wish you'd take that peevish expression
off your face.

You can't see the expression on my face.

I know what it is by the position of your feet.

All right, I am peevish. Why can't you have your
political durbars at Mrs Dooms-Patterson's?

Because I wish to reciprocate. That's why.

No, you just want to join the upper echelons
of the local party.

When have I ever done anything like that?

A few weeks ago, with the Music Society.

We are not talking about that.

No, we're not. We're talking about my home
being invaded by a herd of 20-stone Tory trouts.

Mrs Dooms-Patterson
is the only biggie amongst us.

And her glands are not her fault.

- If she brought her own chair, I wouldn't mind.
- Jerry!

I just don't see
what all this frantic political activity's all about.

We intend to be ready. That's why.

But our chap's got a 20,000 majority.

Maybe, but due to apathy such as yours,

at the last general election, the socialist
kept his deposit. Well, it won't happen again.

I'm looking at your feet, Jerry.

- (Knocking)
- Oh, it's Tom and Barbara. Come in!

Got some sort of a placard.

Oh, ignore them. It's one of their silly jokes.

"Do not open the window." Why?

- "Are you itching?"
- I fail to see that it's...

Well, I have been, actually.

Yes, so have l. Yes, we have.

- Well, we're too late.
- Too late for what?

We've er... got something to tell you.
(Clears throat) Tom...

Er..ah. er..

Well, it... it's rather delicate, actually.
You see, the thing is... Barbara?

Ah, well, it's er...
just a matter of finding the right word, really.

- Do you want to have another bath?
- No, no, no.

No, it isn't so much delicate as personal, really.

- A bereavement?
- No, not yet.

- An illness?
- No, I wouldn't call it an illness.

The word I'd use is... Barbara?

- No, go on. You had it on the tip of your tongue.
- I didn't.

- Well, / didn't!
- Tom! Barbaral Now, listen.

We've been friends for many years.

If you have something delicate to say,
then you must realise that we are on your side.

So, come along. Out with it.

We've given you fleas.

Jerry! Burn everything!

Will it be a Black Maria sort of thing
from the council?

Will men with protective clothing
cordon off the house?

I don't know. I'm not normally a health hazard.

Will they paint us with that mauve stuff?

I don't know. They might shave off our hair
and squirt us with DDT, for all I know.

Anyway, it's out now.

- I suppose we had to tell the council.
- Oh, of course.

I thought we could contain it, but we haven't.
We can't put Surbiton on top of the flea league.

- It's a question of civic duty.
- Civic duty? You?

Well, they'd find out, anyhow.
We'd get a lynch mob in the garden.

- Yes, I suppose you're right.
- (Car engine)

- Tom, there's a car.
- It doesn't have to be them.

- (Tyres screech to a halt)
- It's stopped!

- There's a man coming towards the house!
- Is he carrying a Tommy gun?

No, but he's got a Gladstone bag.

- (Door bell)
- (Barbara gasps)

- No! No! Don't answer itl No, no, no!
- Barbaral What... look...

Pull yourself together!

Good afternoon, sir.
Could I interest you in a set of encyclopaedias?

- No, thank you.
- There are some very interesting entries

under the letter F, sir.

- No, thank you.
- Such as Formaldehyde...

- Look...
- .and Fleas.

Oh! Come in.

Thank you.

(Gasps) What was all that about?

A little subterfuge I like to adopt, sir. Saves
all that nasty stigmata with the neighbours.

- Well, that's very thoughtful.
- I do my best. This way?

Er..

That's my wife Barbara. This is Mr er...

Bulstrode. PV Bulstrode.

A disinfestation.

Oh. Ah. How nice.

Yes. I ought to tell you that I never drink on duty
- not even tea or coffee - so don't ask me.

TOM: Oh, well...

Straight down to brass tacks, then.
Well.. fleas.

I'm glad you've retained your sense of humour,
sir. A lot of people go to pieces under fleas.

- Do we have to keep saying that word?
- Well, that's all it is. A word.

But do we have to keep saying it?

Right-ho. Hereinafter,
we shall refer to them as the "little offenders".

- Thank you.
- (Humming)

Head down, sir.

Get off!

- What do you think you're doing?
- First principle, sir.

I have to have one of the little offenders,
sol can identify it.

Well, no need. We caught another one.
It's in a jar of disinfectant in the kitchen.

Bravo, sir. Bravo.
I wish more people would do this.

You do enjoy your job, don't you?

I love it. The Bulstrodes have been in infestation
right back to the bubonic times.

- Through here, is it, sir?
- Er..yes.

Ah. Ah, there he is.

Oh, I do beg her pardon. She's a female.

Well, how can you tell?

Vive la difference. Eh, sir? (Chuckles)

- Good gracious!
- (Humming)

- Do you mind, sir?
- Sorry. Sorry.

(Humming)

Ah, yes. Oh, yes.

It says in my Boys' Book Of Knowledge that,
if a flea were human,

it could high-jump 20 feet.

Tom!

Depends on the species, sir.

The Great Cuban can do nearer 23.

- Really?
- Mm.

Is that a Great Cuban?

(Laughs)

Bless your heart! No, not in these climes.

No, this is your temperate-zone animal flea.
You keep animals, do you?

- Er.
- Er... one or two.

Hmm...

Yes, well, it's nothing very exotic.

It's just your common dog fl...

Er.. little offender.

Well, we... we haven't got a dog.

- Yes, you have.
- No, no, we haven't.

Oh, well, if you... if you say so.

(Whistles) Come out, boy. Come out.

We haven't got a dog!

- Neighbours?
- Yes, we have neighbours.

- And they have a dog?
- No.

- Well, somebody has.
- That would seem a reasonable supposition.

No, sir. What I mean is that a dog
is the primary host of this little offender here.

I would stake my professional reputation on it.

The trouble is, we are so hard-pressed
at the department, that we can't track it down.

Oh, does that mean that we're going
to have fleas for the rest of our lives?

Oh, no, madam. It will take its natural course.

And then you will realise you've been in contact
with someone who has a dog.

You phone me, or my son Mickey,

and I shall be round like a shot
to clean the animal up.

Meanwhile, your best frontline of defence is...
is that.

Thank you.

Well, I'll er.. I'll hop off now. (Chuckles)

- Through here, is it, sir?
- Er... yes. Thanks very much for coming.

Oh, it's been a pleasure.

(Coughing)

- Goodbye, sir.
- Goodbye. (Coughing)

(Coughing)

(Knocking)

Ah!

- Ah, hello, Jerry.
- Hello.

Hey! What an infernal cheek!

Not cheek. Scientific fact. The bloke
from the council said our animals are clean.

Yes, he says the fleas come from a dog.

Well, I'm not a dog. I don't even know a dog.

Yes. Well, that's what we said.

Mrs Dooms-Patterson had a wonderful idea
this afternoon, Jerry. She thinks...

Hello, Tom and Barbara.
Goodbye, Tom and Barbara.

No, Margo, before you get the disinfectant,
we ought to tell you...

that the fleas do not originate
from the Good estate.

Oh. Well, I never thought they did, dear.

- Margo...
- No, I firmly believe

that they hopped up here
from the council estate.

Now, what we must...

Oh, look at that. Ben is a lovely boy,
but his hairs do come out.

- Ben? Who's Ben?
- Mrs Dooms-Patterson's Old English sheepdog.

What? Why is everyone staring at me?

- Well...
- Well...

What?

Tell it to her gently, Jerry.

Good luck.

- Tell me what, Jerry?
- Erm... sit down, darling.

It's just that...

(Margo screams)

He's told her.