Good Neighbors (1975–1978): Season 3, Episode 7 - The Last Posh Frock - full transcript

It's very kind of you to offer me a lift to the shops,
Margo,

but I could have walked
to the ironmonger's by now.

I know, dear. I sometimes wonder
why Jerry bothers to have the car serviced.

He does one himself every time
he gets into the wretched thing.

I don't think he's ever got over
that time we went touring Scotland.

Do you remember when we got stuck
without petrol halfway up that mountain?

I'm afraid I do. The recollection of
that obscene kilted crofter is etched on my brain.

Oh, he wasn't obscene.
It was... just a windy day.

We did have fun that year, didn't we?

- 1973 wasn't it?
- No, '74.

- Are you sure?
- Yes! I'll prove it to you.



Look.

There.

"The gang having drinks at Gleneagles,
summer 1974."

Oh, yes!

There's that silly man from Birmingham
in the background,

the one who bought a salmon
from a local fishmonger

- and claimed he'd caught it.
- Yes...

He didn't even take the price tag off.

No...

Penny for your thoughts.

I was just looking at myself.
I used to look quite smart, didn't 17?

Yes, you did.

You could always wear clothes, Barbara.
I must admit,

- I used to be the teeniest bit jealous of you.
- Thank you, Margo!



- Not now, of course.
- No.

- Not since Tom ceased to be a wage-earner.
- No.

- But then, you've made your bed.
- And I'm lying on it. Let's change the subject.

Oh, of course.

I've seen the most exquisite
pair of shoes in...

Sorry.

I can't get the damn thing to start.

- What's wrong?
- If I knew that, I'd have started it.

It's probably something mechanical.

Of course it's something mechanical!
The car's mechanical.

Please don't flare your nostrils at me, Jerry.

I'd just like to know the point of all these checks
if you can't even start the car.

I check the tyres, the water, the oil, the petrol.

- There my expertise ends.
- That's patently obvious.

I'll get the garage to have a look at it.

I'll have a look at it, If you like.

Don't be silly, Barbara. You're a woman.

You've been looking
at too many old photographs.

Shouldn't we get her something to lie on?

In those trousers? Huh!

Qil'l thought you two were taking Barbara
down to the shops.

We were. The car wouldn't start.

Look, I've got a Tillotson's valve
waiting for me in the ironmonger's.

- How exciting.
- It is! With a Tillotson's valve,

I can siphon methane off my effluent digester
at three times its original rate.

Not in the Avenue, please, Tom.

- What's wrong with the car, anyway?
- Margo suspects it's something mechanical.

Well, Barbara's quite good with the rotary
cultivator these days. Get her to have a look.

- Where is she?
- She's under here.

- She has had a look at it.
- Ha, ha, ha! Hello, Grubby.

(Tom sniggers)

Hello, dear.

No. Sorry, Jerry.

The cable's sheared through.
Garage job, I'm afraid.

Well, never mind.
I'll go and phone for a tow.

Jerry, if you're not keen on money,
just throw it over the fence.

- What do you mean?
- It costs ten quid to call out a breakdown truck.

The garage is 200 yards up the road.
We can push it!

- I don't know...
- Oh, come on. It won't kill us.

How... How does one do it?

Not you, you'll get yourself dirty.
Come on, Barbara. In you get, Jerry.

Shouldn't we let Barbara steer and I'll push?

Broad as it's long.

But...

I'magirl.
- Ha, ha, hal

Come on, Muscles.

Thanks for the push, you two.
Stand you both a pint on Sunday.

OK, Jerry.

- Tom?
- Yeah?

- Rugby players drink pints, don't they?
- Yeah.

Then why did Jerry offer to buy me a pint?

Well, you're one of the lads, aren't you?

Oh, thanks!

- You what?
- Nothing.

Excuse me? Which way is number 877

- Uh... down the road on the left.
- Thank you, sonny.

- I'magirll
- I'm sorry. I've got my reading glasses on.

Well, that shouldn't make any... difference.

(Whistling)

- Hello!
- Hello, Curly.

Well, it was worth the walk. I got my valve!

Here she is! Ah, look at that. Look at that.

Oh, what a beauty, eh?

Oh, lovely. There she is.

Where are the instructions?

Ah. Now. Here we are. Yes.

"For maximum efficiency
for the conduction of gas,

ensure that the inlet and outlet ports
are lagged with tow."

Mind out, love. You're in my light.

Ah, they're beautifully made, these Tillotsons.

- Yes!
- It's the new SFX125, you know.

Is it?

It's got the new metal diaphragm
instead of the old perishable rubber one.

Get this on the effluent digester
and we're there.

- Tom?
- Yeah?

- Do I look nice?
- Well, you always look nice, love.

- Yes, I know... Particularly, at this moment?
- Why?

Because I've (ahem)...
got my best frock on.

Why?

Because I felt like it!

Ah.

Well?

Very nice. I'd get changed, if I were you.

You don't want to get it dirty
down the cellar.

I'll get changed.

Cor!

(Screams)

Oh, damn and blast!

- Oh, Tom! Look!
- Oh, dear. How did you do that?

- On that nail sticking out of the banister.
- Must bang that in.

- Well, it's too late now!
- Never mind, love. You can always sew it up.

Yes. I'll put a great big red flannelette patch
on it while I'm at it.

I'll tell you what. Cut the torn bit off,
and turn it into a mini. Right?

With the bit you cut off,
you could make a scarf.

- Shut up.
- I'm trying to be constructive.

- Or you can make a nice...
- Don't say any more, Tom.

This isn't like you.
What's so tragic about tearing a dress?

- It isn't a dress. It's my only dress.
- It's not.

It is! It's the only thing I have left that I feel
a little bit glamorous in, and now it's ruined.

But you don't have any occasion to wear it
any more.

I know that.

It's just knowing that I've got it that matters.

But you knew you'd got it.

I mean, why put it on in the first place?
I don't understand.

- No, you don't understand, do you'?
- No, I don't! Tell me.

Well, I'm just trying...
trying to create the illusion that I'm a woman!

- But you are a woman.
- Well, I'm not so sure nowadays.

I'm not so sure.
I push cars. I get offered pints.

And then to cap it all, some rotten swine
actually mistook me for a boy.

(Laughs)

Where are you going?

I'm going to put my trousers on.

(Sighs)

vrrmm, virmm!

Hello! Jerry Leadbetter here.

I was just telephoning to find out
whether I can have my car today.

Oh. Tuesday.

What do you mean, Tuesday?

Be quiet. I don't care if the spare parts
come from Mars. Go and collect them.

A bottleneck in the lube bay?
What does that mean in English?

Well, say lubrication, then.

- Margo!
- Be quiet, Jerry.

All right, go and look
at your wretched worksheet.

No, you may not tinkle me back. I'll hold on.

Don't interrupt Margo. She's in full flow.

Hello? Are you the same man?

Very well.

No, that is not good enough.
There was a time in this country

when a date promised was a date honoured.

If you promised my husband
the car would be ready today, then...

Just a moment.

Did they or did they not
say it would be ready today?

- I was just telephoning on the off-chance.
- Really, Jerry.

I do wish you'd acquaint me
with the facts before getting me involved.

Good day to you.

Hello, Tom. How's Barbara?

Well, she's a bit low, actually.
Has been for a couple of days.

That's why I want to use your phone.

- Nothing serious, I hope?
- Oh, no. Just a mood.

I'll tell you now, as this concerns you both.

Barbara got a letter from an old school friend,
over here on a visit from Canada.

I thought it might be a nice idea
to have a little dinner party at our house.

- You two, this Eileen... you know.
- How very thoughtful.

- That's not like you at all.
- It is!

One tip. If Barbara's got to cook the dinner
for this dinner party she doesn't know about,

give her plenty of notice.

Good thinking.

Yes. It would be nice

- if one's husband practised what he preaches.
- What are you talking about?

Mr Rubescu and his five Rumanian associates
at half-an-hour's notice, that's what.

That was two years ago!

If you're arguing, I'll use the phone in the hall.

- We don't argue, Tom.
- Of course not...

Incidentally, this friend of Barbara's,
is she Canadian?

- No, no. English, I believe.
- Oh, good.

I've been rather off the Canadians
since they adopted that silly flag.

Ah! Well, I tell you what. When she goes back,
we'll ask her to get them to change it.

Ha, ha, ha.

Ah.
(Shudders)

Hurry up, darling. They'll be here in a minute.

Ah. Good. Yes.

Right. Now, do these go on the left or the right?

- Oris it the left? Or is it the right?
- Does it really matter?

What's the matter with you?
You don't seem to be looking forward to this.

- I thought you liked surprises.
- I do. I'm just not keen on shocks.

But you said you liked Eileen.
You said she should come over.

Yes, but why do you have to make it
a great big dinner party?

Why not? I thought it would cheer you up.
A little get-together, a chance to dress up...

Here I am, dressed up.

- Well, it got you out of those old trousers.
- Yes, into an old skirt and top.

Well, you tore your posh frock, didn't you?

Fancy you remembering that.

Is that all that's upsetting you,
not being able to wear your posh frock?

- Yes.
- Come on, Barbara.

That's just behaving like a woman.

Maybe that's because I'm supposed to be one.

You don't understand, do you?
You don't understand.

There'll be Margo, poshed up,
and Eileen, poshed up,

and I'll be looking like something
the cat dragged in.

Look. Stop that.
You've spoilt the design.

Now leave it. Leave it.
Come over here. Let's talk this over.

Now, don't be difficult.

Come over here
and let's get to the bottom of this.

Come over to the sofa. Go on there and sit.

Sit! Sit.

Now, look, Barbara,

we've left all that who's-got-the-best-dress
business behind.

- I didn't mean...
- Please let me finish.

- Lonly...
- I'd like you to let me finish.

Thank you. That's suburban rubbish.
We don't need it.

It's gloss. We're dealing with real values.

I don't need to keep telling you I love you, do 17
You just know it.

- Do you love me?
- Do I what?

Of course I do, you silly bitch!

What I'm trying to say...

If this room was packed with elegant models
wearing the latest designs from Paris,

I'd only be looking at you.

- Even in this?
- I don't see that.

- What do you see?
- Look...

.the point is, I'm interested in the beer,
not the bottle.

Well! I mean, all this glamour and taming up,
you can keep it,

because in the end,
it doesn't mean a damn thing.

Do you mean that?

- My love, it is water off a duck's back.
- (Doorbell)

Now, look, let's try and enjoy ourselves,
and keep a sense of proportion, all right?

- Well.
- There.

Good girl.

You are right, of course.

I know I am. I know I am.

Hello, hovv are you'?
Oh, so nice to see you!

Tom, this is Eileen.

Eileen, this is Tom.

Uh! Hello!

- How nice to meet you, Tom.
- Nice to see you!

Please, come and sit down.

Over there. Ah. There we are.

Well, now, Eileen!
Would you like a drink, Eileen?

A pea pod or thingummy?

Oh, a thingummy, I should think.

Ah, ha, ha, ha!

Right! (Laughs enthusiastically)

There we are.

Coming right up. (Snorts)

- Well, cheers.
- Cheers.

And, may I say, Eileen,
you look absolutely stunning.

(Snorts)

EILEEN: Bye!
TOM AND BARBARA: Bye!

Barbara was very quiet all evening, Jerry.
I do hope she isn't sickening for something.

If you ask me,
it's Tom who's sickening for something.

- What do you mean'?
- Well!

Well, well! What a nice girl!

- Wasn't she a nice girl?
- Yes!

I say, I say... you can tell she's a model,
can't you?

Yes. (Clears throat)

I must say, I thought Barbara's dinner
was absolutely delicious.

- Wasn't it, Tom?
- What?

Oh, yes. Stick Barbara in a kitchen,
you can't go wrong.

- It was a beautiful dress.
- Beautiful.

- I love those six little buttons.
- Five.

Well, now, come along. More coffee?

No, I really think we ought to be going.

- Must we? Why?
- Thank you so much, Barbara.

Thank you, Tom. Night night.
Come on, Margo.

Thank you for a lovely dinner, Barbara.

- Good night.
- Good night.

- Good night, Tom.
- Good night, Margo.

- I don't know what this hurry's about, Jerry.
- I've got one of your headaches.

Night night! Ha, ha, ha.

Ah, dear. Well, a nightcap?

I'm just... trying to get the words right.

- What for?
- Yes, I think I've got them now.

Two-faced, inconsiderate, selfish.. rat.

Who is?

You.

- What, what, what?
- Don't what-what-what me.

Don't what-what. Don't give me
all that guff about glamour not mattering,

and then spend the whole evening
drooling over Eileen!

- I was not!
- Your eyes were on stalks.

- Ah, I was just being sociable.
- Sociable? If you'd been any more sociable,

- you'd have got into her dress with her!
- You're jealous!

I'm not! It's reasonable to look at Eileen.
She's a very sexy girl.

- What, then?
- Well, what, what...

What you don't do is go on and on
about her wonderful, glamorous clothes,

"Who do you prefer modelling, Eileen,
Ossie Clarke or Mary Quant?

Eh, Eileen?
Oh, I know what you'd look nice in, Eileen!

- A nice slinky black sexy number!"
- Well, she would.

- Well, what about me?
- You're Barbara.

- (Screams)
- What are you doing?

- I'm screaming.
- Why?

Because as far as you are concerned,
there are three sexes in the world:

man, woman and Barbara.

And just once, now and again, now and again,

I would like to feel that I'm a normal,
attractive woman!

- Well, that's ridiculous.
- Thank you!

...I didn't mean that! Look, Barbara,
we've chosen our life.

I thought you realised it didn't include
wardrobes full of flashy clothes.

- I only wanted one flashy clothe.
- Pardon?

- My posh frock!
- Well, you tore that.

I know!

- Have a glass of wine. You'll feel better.
- I don't want a glass of wine.

- Have a nice glass...
- I don't want a glass of wine.

It's just not your day, is it?

Excuse me.

(Crockery clatters)

Well, that's just being silly, isn't it?

No, it's not.

No, it's not. These are girls' clothes.

And what am I doing in girls' clothes?

I'm not a girl, I'm a Barbara,

and this is what Barbaras look like.

Look, love. Barbara?

It'd be pointless you having a dress
like Eileen wore.

You're too short.

(Screams)

- Hello, Jerry.
- Morning, Tom.

- Ah. The old 4 wood, eh?
- Yeah.

Mending it, then?

Yeah.

- You haven't got the car back, then?
- No.

Well, that's the way it goes.

- Do you want something?
- Me? No, no, no.

Just having a breather.

I see.

- Ah! Women, eh?
- Ah.

What do you mean, ah?

- You've had a row?
- How did you know?

- I heard the screams.
- Oh.

Barbara must stop doing that. She must learn
to string her arguments together cohesively.

I should say the looks she was giving you
last night were eloquence itself.

Ha, ha. Women, eh?

- Ha, ha! Tom, eh'?
- What?

- You are a fool sometimes.
- Why?

I ask you. We all know Barbara hasn't got much
in the way of clothes these days,

but on you go, blundering on
like some short-sighted hippopotamus

about Eileen and her haute couture.

Come on, Jerry. You're a bloke.
You're supposed to be on my side.

Ah, I know what it is. Margo's been getting
at you. She told you to tell me off.

- It's not Margo.
- Ha ha!

- You're claiming to understand all this?
- Some of it.

- What makes you so clever?
- Standing next to you.

Look, mate.
You're arguing from a very precarious position.

You and Margo have the odd row, don't you?
Ten or 15 times a day.

That's just the point.
It's meaningless with Mar... with Margo.

It's just a means of communication.
With Barbara, it does mean something.

- You ought to give it a little thought.
- I have, and she's wrong.

OK.

Fine.

Well, she is.

- Isn't she?
- You know, Tom,

Barbara once told me she loved you
for your sensitivity.

- Really?
- Yes, she did.

If you ask me, you've buried your sensitivity
along with your potatoes.

- What?
- She gave up normal feminine perks for you.

Silly things, maybe, some of them,
but she gave them up without a second thought.

The least you can do is respond

- when she has the odd withdrawal symptom.
- I gave things up!

- Like what?
- My job.

- You hated it.
- Yeah, but I gave it up.

Ah, and here's one. I couldn't afford to play golf.
I gave that up.

You were thrown out of the club
for shooting rabbits on the short 17th.

I've only got one suit, you know.
I don't complain.

Why should you? You're naturally scruffy.
She isn't. You should make allowances.

(Scoffs)
Are you changing sex or something?

Ah. You know I'm right.

- Go on like this, you'll be on the woman's page.
- You do know I'm right.

- Feminist fop!
- You know I'm right.

- How do I know?
- You've resorted to abuse.

- Clever dick.
- You're doing it again.

- Shut up!
- Ha, ha.

I'm sorry, love.

- I don't like that.
- That was your idea.

- Exactly.
- Ah, but wait until you see it with...

Was that my idea as well?

I don't think I'll go in for dress designing.
Excuse me.

It's a posh frock.

Well? Aren't you going to say,
"You shouldn't have'?

It's beautiful!

- It's very impractical.
- Good.

Oh, Tom!

- But you can't afford this!
- Yes, I can.

- What have you done?
- I found some money in my turn-ups.

No, no, I... I sold a few things.

No...

Oh, Tom!

Don't worry.
I didn't sell my Peter Dawson record.

Stop bickering, Margo.
This is Barbara's night.

I shall drop the subject
as soon as Barbara comes down.

All I'm saying is, Jerry,

had I not gone round to the garage in person,
we would not have had the car this evening.

You realise I can never show my face in there
again, after your performance.

I don't like the word "performance”, Jerry.

It smacks of the circus.

How do you know what I said, anyway?

The manager telephoned me to say
one of his mechanics had been assaulted.

I didn't touch the man!

He simply backed away
and fell into the inspection pit.

Was he hurt?

- Of course he wasn't.
- How do you know?

Because when I said, "Now you're under
the car, get on with it," he did.

It was ready in ten minutes.

- Margo, you're priceless.
- Thank you, Jerry.

Come here.

♪ Ta-da!

- Oh, Barbara!
- You look absolutely ravishable.

Ravishing, Jerry.

It is very pretty!
I must say, you still have a very tiny waist.

- Yes.
- I do hope Tom isn't going to make us late..

Oh, no. He'll be down in a minute.
It's so nice of you to take us out.

You've got to wear it, haven't you?
I always say it's the best way to make up.

- What do you mean, always?
- Whenever we have a row,

I take her out afterwards. Don't I, darling?

You make it sound as if we're always arguing.

- Well, we are, aren't we?
- No, we're not!

- We are. We're arguing now.
- Of course we're not!

- (Coughs)
- Sorry.

Come on, come on!

I could eat a horse.
Well, a Shetland pony, anyway.

- What are you looking at?
- You.

Haven't you ever seen an Adonis before?

Tom, you look an absolute shambles.

I do not! I'll have you know,
this is the jacket of my dress suit.

Well, put the trousers on as well.

- They're meant to be worn as a set.
- I don't want to show you up.

I got the trousers covered in creosote
doing the fence.

Well, change the jacket or something.

- Anorak?
- Really.

I don't know what the fuss is about.
It doesn't matter what I wear.

- Barbara's the belle of the ball.
- What's the point, if you look like that?

- Oh, Tom, go and put that suit on. Please.
- Well, um.. there's a slight problem there.

Why?

The suit was one of the things
I sold to buy your dress.

Oh, Tom.

Well, I shall be very proud
to go with Tom as he is.

It was you who said that, wasn't it, Margo?

Yes. I think it's an unselfish act on Tom's part,
and I applaud it.

Now, come along.

Only do put him behind a pillar or something
in the restaurant.

What am I going to do with you?

I don't know.
I'm looking forward to finding out, though.

Come along.