In Sickness and in Health (1985–1992): Season 2, Episode 4 - In Sickness and in Health - full transcript
Everybody seems to be having Sunday dinner except Alf,who has no food in the house so he makes his very first trip to the supermarket,where his unfamiliarity with prices causes a bottle neck at the check-out and the manager giving him free food to be rid of him. Back home his efforts to ring Rita to ask her advice on making a meat pudding leads to another spat with the long-suffering Johnsons whose phone he is using and a row with Mrs Hollingbery who refuses to cook for him when he declines to help her with housework.
# Now my old darling,
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...
- Bloody poorer, that's a fact.
# Just cos in sickness and in health
I said I do
# In sickness and in health I said I do #
Mr Garnett!
What are you having, Mr Garnett? Same, is it?
- Oh, go on. I'm feeling generous.
- Stop doing that.
One of them and a small Scotch too,
if you're feeling generous.
I ain't feeling that generous.
Mwah!
- They'll give this place a bad name.
- Who?
Him. His sort. Never used to get 'em in here.
I blame your Parliament. Since they made it
legal, they're springing up all over the place.
You go out to the men's bog
after they've been out there.
Smells like a ladies' boudoir.
- I wouldn't go out the bog if they were in it.
- Nor me. Wouldn't trust 'em.
Wouldn't turn me back on 'em, I tell you.
- You have him in the house, though.
- Oh, yeah, yeah.
They're very handy round the house.
They're useful.
He's a good servant.
Can't cook, though, the coons.
There you go, Mr Garnett.
And erm...my friend bought you the whiskies.
Cheers.
Bloody queers!
They're all over the place now.
Always sat with their backs to camera
on telly one time.
Sat facing it, they are, now,
reading the news.
Yeah, well, it's a more open society now, Alf.
I mean, in the old days,
well, there was more prejudice in them days.
- We was better off for it, wasn't we?
- Well, it's a free country, Alf.
You can be a free country without letting people
go around doing exactly what they want to do.
Ah, come on.
Look, you can't have it both ways.
How can it be a free country if you don't
let people do what they want to do?
Control! Control! Discipline!
Control? Discipline? In a free country?
Yeah! Gor blimey,
you can't have a free country without control.
I'd like to be free to come in this pub and have
a drink without the likes of them in here.
- They bought you a drink.
- Cheers.
Not the point, is it?
Self discipline, that's what I'm talking about.
Something we know about,
not allowing your base and unnatural feelings
to rule you, like they've done.
I mean, if God had wanted them to be queers
and behave like women,
he'd have made 'em women,
and given 'em women's things.
He wouldn't have given them men's things.
They're a mistake, people like that.
We're going to the Chinese for a meal.
Do you want to come?
No, thanks.
- Get off!
- Suit yourself.
Pity you ain't that way, Alf,
cos I think they fancy you.
Shut up.
In the old days, Marigold would've had the time
of his life when there was boats in them docks.
Your sailors are always partial to the pansies,
ain't they?
A lot of things was different
when there was boats in them docks.
We had full employment for a start.
Hello, there's your Mrs Hollingbery.
She's got a jug with her. Getting a couple
of pints for the Sunday lunch, I suppose.
Don't she ever invite you, Alf? I'd have thought
you'd got your feet under the table by now.
- Shut up.
- I mean, she ain't bad for her age, is she?
She's younger than you are.
You know what they say, the older the fiddle,
the sweeter the tune!
Any old port in a storm.
You want to get in there, Alf,
even if it was only for your Sunday lunch.
Morning.
Never mind about Mrs Hollingbery.
We're talking about the docks.
It was your bloody unions what killed the docks.
Your unions put an end to full employment,
didn't they?
Demanded too much or too little.
Wrong, Alf. Wrong. It was the "Hurry up, hurry
up," that's what put an end to full employment.
See, in the old days
we had the right idea about employment.
If we got a job, we made it last.
We didn't rush around like blue-arsed flies
like they do nowadays.
I mean, we used to not listen to all this
"hurry up” talk, this high productivity jargon.
Our philosophy was
save a bit of work for tomorrow.
- Yeah.
- We wasn't greedy like they are today.
I mean, today there's one man doing a job
where there used to be three.
And two young lads, as well.
- Job sharing, that's what we believed in.
- I know.
Everybody worked at the speed of the slowest.
- Christianity.
- Get off out of it.
Christianity, simple as that.
I mean, protect the weakest.
Don't run when others less able can only walk.
I mean, now they want to work
at the speed of the fastest.
And there's four million unemployed
to prove it.
No, mate, it's all wrong. In the old days
in them docks, you could see the work piling up.
I've seen them docks full of boats,
all waiting to be unloaded.
And hundreds more out in the channel,
laying off at anchor, waiting to come in.
You could sit in them docks and look at them
boats and say to yourself,
"If I stay at this pace, or a mite slower,
"I'll be years unloading all that stuff.”
"Use your loaf," I used to think, "and there's
enough work to last me there till I retire.”
ALI them boats laying out at anchor.
They all pissed off and got unloaded
somewhere else, didn't they?
They couldn't get unloaded anywhere else.
They had to be unloaded here.
All that cargo belonged to people here.
That's why we had them by the cobblers.
I mean, they had to be unloaded here, by us.
No good going anywhere else.
I mean, they were our imports.
All that stuff had to be delivered to people here.
Yeah, but them people got fed up waiting,
Arthur, didn't they?
The things they wanted for their factories and
their shops was all in the channel, going rotten.
That's where we came in, innit? The overtime.
Double time, triple time.
They was good days, they was, Alf.
That's when your working man was king.
- Yeah.
- You could strike in those days, all right.
I mean, they had to pay you.
They had to come to terms with you fast.
Otherwise, if they didn't,
we'd let their cargos stay out there
in the channel and rot.
Yeah, well, thanks to Margaret Thatcher,
woman though she might be,
them days are over, mate,
when the unions was running the country.
Our bloody union, they thought they was running
the country. Pathetic! They had no say at all.
I mean, that last strike we had,
we was out on strike for months, we was.
Ran out of employment benefit, supplementary
benefit, every bloody benefit, we did.
So I called a meeting, didn't I?
I got the moderates together,
all the middle-of-the-roaders
and I said, "Now look, enough is enough.
"We've shown our strength.”
(Burps) Pardon me.
"We've shown our strength.
Let's go back to work.”
So we did.
The bloody place wasn't there no more.
They had bills up, "For Sale", plastered all over.
They'd buggered off, the lot of them.
We all had to go and look for another job.
I wouldn't have minded, but I was happy there,
so don't talk to me about bloody unions.
Yeah, yeah, well, I don't know about you, Alf,
but I'm looking forward to my lunch.
I love my Sunday lunch.
Best lunch of the week, that is.
Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes.
Got fresh garden peas this week.
And a nice bit of sirloin, on the bone,
with streaks of fat running right through it.
Oh, that's going to roast well, that is.
How do you go on
about Sunday lunch these days?
Don't get none, do I?
That's hard, that is. That must be
one of the things you miss her for most.
- She was a good cook, Arth.
- Yeah, brings it home to you, don't it?
What they meant to you,
and what a sad, sad loss you suffered.
I'm suffering, Arthur. I'm suffering.
I mean, we was close, you know.
I mean, I knew I'd miss her, but...
I didn't think I'd be this bad.
No, no, I wouldn't like to dwell
on what I'd do without mine.
Good cook. Born to cook.
Born to the kitchen, she was.
Here, why don't you come
and have Sunday lunch with us, Alf?
- Oh, thanks. I'd like that, Arthur.
- Right, that's done.
I'll fix that one week.
Smell that. Smell that, go on, smell it.
Gawd, you talk about nostalgia. That's the smell
that reminds me of London on a Sunday.
Miles and miles of roast beef
and Yorkshire pudding cooking. I'd better go.
(Sniffs)
Fred.
Bloody Marigold.
He should be here on Sundays.
He should be here to cook my Sunday dinner.
Bloody useless black fairy, he is.
And that thing upstairs!
Calls herself a neighbour!
She could do it, wouldn't hurt her.
She knows I'm down here on my own.
She's got to cook for herself. She'd just as
easily cook for me. No, it's too much trouble!
I mean, I could sit here and starve,
for all any of them care.
They call their selves Christians. Oh, blimey!
Love thy neighbour?
Not one of them knocked
to see if I've got any Sunday dinner.
Oh, yeah, they put pennies in the box
for Ethiopians, they give things to Oxfam.
They're quick enough flying off to Africa,
looking for starving blackies!
But nobody, nobody knocks on my door
to see if I've got any Sunday dinner.
Where is the bloody tin opener?
Bloody Marigold!
He's always moving things.
He's always hiding things, he is. I'll sack him.
And report him to the bloody council.
There's nothing in. Look, no shopping, nothing!
Bloody idle, he is.
Rita should be here. Fine daughter she is,
leaving me here to bloody well starve.
Where is the sodding tin opener?
Bloody thing! (Incoherent ranting)
I've got a bloody tin of baked beans
I can't open
because that bloody stupid black coon
has gone and hid the sodding tin opener.
Bread. Marvellous, innit?
Dry bread for me Sunday dinner.
I bet there's no butter.
It's hardly worth looking, cos I know there won't
be any. Not if Marigold's done the shopping.
I'm right. No bloody butter!
Sod it!
Where's the cheese gone?
I put that cheese in there myself.
That bloody daft coon's gone and eaten it.
That's it, innit? That's it. Dry bread
for your Sunday dinner. Marvellous.
There's criminals,
there's bloody murderers sitting in prison
got a better Sunday dinner than I've got.
There's muggers, rapists, sitting down
to roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.
I have got to eat bloody stale, dry bread!
Bloody Labour council.
Oh, vote for us.
we'll look after you if you're poor.
We'll look after the old age pensioners.
We are the party what cares.
They don't give a shit! Not one of 'em.
Not one of them knocked and said
have I got any Sunday dinner?
Nor your SDP. I can eat dry bread
as far as they're concerned.
- (Knock at door)
- Who's that? Who's that?
I'll give 'em a bloody mouthful.
What? Oh.
- What's that?
- Hello, Mr Garnett.
It's just a bit of lunch I've brought over.
Gor blimey. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding!
Spotted dick and custard. Thank you.
It's for Mrs Hollingbery.
(Mrs Hollingbery) Is that my dinner?
Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding! Ooh!
Spotted dick and custard!
- Saves you cooking, doesn't it?
- Oh, I'm very grateful.
Well, what are neighbours for if they can't
give a helping hand? That's what I always say.
Now, go and eat it while it's hot,
and look after yourself.
And if you want anything, you know where I am.
Oh, what a nice woman. She goes to my church.
Oh, that does smell good.
Well, mustn't let it get cold.
That's it. That's it, they've had it. All of 'em.
Bloody Marigold, Rita, that thing upstairs.
They've had it! If they can't do nothing for me,
I won't do nothing for them.
That's the end of it, as far as I'm concerned.
I'll do my own cooking from now on.
And I'll open my window when I do the cooking,
and let them smell it.
And I hope they're hungry when they smell it.
Be my turn to laugh then, won't it?
(Glass shattering)
Not bad.
Yeah, that's better.
Get rid of them.
Four.
No, make it a round dozen, eh?
- £27.90
- How much?
£27.90
Oh, blimey, I thought inflation was going down.
27 pound! Nobody's told you, has they?
I can't afford that. I'm a pensioner, ain't 7
A widower. Look.
Lost me wife, didn't I?
- I'm making a meat pudding. Don't want that.
- Come on.
Do you mind waiting your turn?
I've been waiting out there, too.
You bloody wait, mate.
I'm making a meat pudding.
I don't need that. Don't want that.
Look, who put that in? It wasn't me.
And I don't eat no Jock food.
I can do without that. It's got
no golliwog on there, for a start-off.
- Wait your bloody turn.
- Sir, these customers...
- How much does that come to?
- Finished?
- Yes.
- 19 pound.
You're still way over the top, my dear.
That's no good to me, is it?
- Look, shall we make this a bit simpler?
- (Groaning)
- Shut up and wait your bloody turn.
- Look, sir, sir, how much can you spend?
Well, erm... Let's have a look.
- I've got five...
- Come on!
Just wait your turn, you silly, fat cow!
I'm talking to the manager here, ain't I?
- I've got five, seven quid in there.
- Seven quid?
Yeah. But I need a couple for the pub tonight,
so say a fiver.
- And you're making a meat pudding?
- Yeah. I've got to cook for myself, ain't I?
- Then I'll tell you what.
- Me wife died...
- There you go. There's some flour, meat.
- It's not easy, a man of my age.
And I'll throw in a bag of spuds, all right?
There you are. Compliments of the management.
- No charge?
- No charge.
Can I have the chops, an' all?
- Take 'em, and go.
- Thanks very much.
See you next week, then.
Nothing much on 'em, is there?
They're all skin.
The money they charge, too.
There's nothing on 'em.
- (Snap)
- Oh, God!
Bloody daft coon!
Christ, that's where he put my cheese.
God! I'm starving, he's feeding bloody mice.
There's no mice here, anyway.
If they've got any intelligence,
they've all cleared out years ago.
You only get mice
where there's plenty of food.
They're not stupid.
There's nothing lives in this house.
Except me, and her upstairs.
I ain't seen a fly for years.
They've all pissed off out of it.
And so would I, if I had wings.
They're all down the Dorchester, if they've got
any sense, hovering over the tables down there.
Oh, look, that looks nice. No, that's better.
Look, steak pudding, my favourite.
I'll have some of that. Nyaaah!
Perhaps that's what we come back as, fly.
Not a bad life, fly, is it?
Come in handy, them wings.
Fly anywhere you fancy.
You wouldn't have to spend the winters here.
Off into the sun. Don't have to do no work.
Get fed up flying about, just have a rest. Sit on
somebody's windowsill in the sun, have a kip.
And, they're all equal, ain't they, flies?
I mean, you always see them
eating off the same bit of food.
You don't get somebody saying, "No, you can't
come in here, you're not allowed in there.”
You don't have to bother
with the DHSS, neither.
Nor your National Health Service.
I mean, all that rubbish them flies eat,
and they never get ill, do they?
Don't have to peel potatoes, neither.
Nor cook their own dinner.
Bloody thing!
Ow!
Get off out of it!
Bloody thing! What's the matter with it?
Hello, Rita?
No, she ain't there yet.
No, see, it's the aunt-in-law's phone.
She has to run round the corner to fetch her.
Run! She'd move a bloody sight faster if
she was paying for the call, wouldn't she, eh?
I'll reverse the charges next time.
Hello? Hello, Rita?
Oh, blimey, I'm sorry about this. Only, I've got
to ask about the pastry for my meat pudding.
- The meat's cooked, and...
- I can tell you about pastry.
- Just a minute. Hello?
- Where shall I meet you, then?
- [I don't know.
- John Lewis's.
We've got a crossed line here.
- [I don't mind.
- It's up to you.
- You say.
- [/ don't mind.
Well, make up your mind
where you're going to meet, will you?
I'm waiting to talk to my daughter.
Get off the line.
We've got someone on our line, I think.
No, no, you ain't.
No, you ain't got nobody on your line, my dear.
It's me. I have got somebody on my line.
You have come onto my line.
- We were talking and you've come on our line.
- No, excuse me.
I was waiting to talk to my daughter
and you have come onto my line.
No, we were talking
and you've come onto our line.
No, you have come onto my line.
Put your phone down.
Will you put your phone down?
- No, you put your phone down!
- We were talking.
Well, shut your mouth
and give your bloody phone a rest.
Let's have enough talk, for a change.
Don't you use that language to me.
I'll use whatever language I want,
in my own language in my own house.
It's my phone, my house!
I'm on my own phone, too.
Are you? Well, get off it
and let other people use the bloody phone.
No, I won't. I'll sit here and I won't budge
till you get off that line.
Well, you bloody well sit there, missus,
and I shall bloody well sit here, an" all.
- Right!
- What? Shut up, will you?
- You keep out of this.
- Put that phone down now!
No, I'm not going to let her get away with that.
- I've got as much right to talk on my phone...
- My phone!
- ...as she has to talk on hers.
- Put that down.
No, it's the principle.
Let her put her bloody phone down.
She has come onto my line. I'm not on her line.
- It's my line.
- Yes, I know, and we was on it first.
But this is costing money!
It's costing her money, too, innit?
Hold on, hold on, I think they're gone.
- Then I told you...
- I know.
Will you get off this phone? I'm not putting
mine down till you put yours down.
If you don't get off, I'll tell the operator.
Tell the operator and I'll tell the operator too,
because you're obstructing my line.
- My line! It's not your line, it's my line!
- Well, tell her.
- I'm telling you.
- Just a minute, just a minute.
She's got her husband. You what?
It's her husband. You'll what?
You'll do what, mate?
Oh, yeah? I'd like to see you try.
Well, you come down here then, and try that.
No, I'm not coming up to bloody Liverpool,
you bloody ignorant Scouse git.
No, you come down here.
It's easy to be brave on the phone, innit?
Oh, yeah!
You come down here, mate, and you'll be sorry
you come here, I'll tell you that for a start-off.
Oh, yeah? Oh, yeah?
Look, I've done a bit, too, mate.
Give me that, give me that.
Listen, I'm sorry about all this. I...
- Yeah, all right, I said I was sorry.
- Don't apologise!
Listen!
Are you going to let me speak?
Look, don't you use that language with me.
You'll do what, exactly, you ignorant oaf?
Don't you speak to me like that.
Oh, will you? Will you?
Right, well, I'm going to trace your number.
Oh, come on, come on, Mr Garnett.
I'll help you with your pastry.
And for your information,
I am not a contortionist.
Like I told you, Mr Garnett,
if only you'll sink your pride
and try to be pleasant to Mrs Hollingbery.
- Or at least not quite so rude...
- Rude? Who's rude?
She's willing, she says, to cook for you,
provided, she says, you are prepared
to make yourself handy for her.
(Sniggers)
And what does she mean, handy for her?
Oh, jobs, that's all.
You help her out and she'll help you out.
Your daughter Rita's on my phone.
- Here, how long's she been on there?
- Oh, not long.
Well, it don't matter, does it?
That's the aunt-in-law paying this time,
ain't she?
She reversed the charges, ha ha!
I accepted them, ha ha!
- Hello, Rita?
- Well, I don't mind.
- Well, you say.
- No, you say.
It's them again.
Will you get off this bloody phone?
You'll what?
- It's the husband again. You'll what?
- Give it to me.
Will you get off my phone?
Listen, I've told you before. Will you?
Right, well, I shall spit at you.
No, you are not spitting at me.
I am spitting at you.
Did you get that, mate? That spit?
Is it dinner time yet?
When you've finished dusting,
there's the floor to do yet.
- Floor?
- Mmm.
I'm not getting on my knees
for no bloody woman.
I'd rather starve. I'm not your lackey.
And besides, your cooking ain't worth it.
# Now my old darling,
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,
bloody poorer, that's a fact
# Just cos in sickness and in health
I said I do
# In sickness and in health I said I do #
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...
- Bloody poorer, that's a fact.
# Just cos in sickness and in health
I said I do
# In sickness and in health I said I do #
Mr Garnett!
What are you having, Mr Garnett? Same, is it?
- Oh, go on. I'm feeling generous.
- Stop doing that.
One of them and a small Scotch too,
if you're feeling generous.
I ain't feeling that generous.
Mwah!
- They'll give this place a bad name.
- Who?
Him. His sort. Never used to get 'em in here.
I blame your Parliament. Since they made it
legal, they're springing up all over the place.
You go out to the men's bog
after they've been out there.
Smells like a ladies' boudoir.
- I wouldn't go out the bog if they were in it.
- Nor me. Wouldn't trust 'em.
Wouldn't turn me back on 'em, I tell you.
- You have him in the house, though.
- Oh, yeah, yeah.
They're very handy round the house.
They're useful.
He's a good servant.
Can't cook, though, the coons.
There you go, Mr Garnett.
And erm...my friend bought you the whiskies.
Cheers.
Bloody queers!
They're all over the place now.
Always sat with their backs to camera
on telly one time.
Sat facing it, they are, now,
reading the news.
Yeah, well, it's a more open society now, Alf.
I mean, in the old days,
well, there was more prejudice in them days.
- We was better off for it, wasn't we?
- Well, it's a free country, Alf.
You can be a free country without letting people
go around doing exactly what they want to do.
Ah, come on.
Look, you can't have it both ways.
How can it be a free country if you don't
let people do what they want to do?
Control! Control! Discipline!
Control? Discipline? In a free country?
Yeah! Gor blimey,
you can't have a free country without control.
I'd like to be free to come in this pub and have
a drink without the likes of them in here.
- They bought you a drink.
- Cheers.
Not the point, is it?
Self discipline, that's what I'm talking about.
Something we know about,
not allowing your base and unnatural feelings
to rule you, like they've done.
I mean, if God had wanted them to be queers
and behave like women,
he'd have made 'em women,
and given 'em women's things.
He wouldn't have given them men's things.
They're a mistake, people like that.
We're going to the Chinese for a meal.
Do you want to come?
No, thanks.
- Get off!
- Suit yourself.
Pity you ain't that way, Alf,
cos I think they fancy you.
Shut up.
In the old days, Marigold would've had the time
of his life when there was boats in them docks.
Your sailors are always partial to the pansies,
ain't they?
A lot of things was different
when there was boats in them docks.
We had full employment for a start.
Hello, there's your Mrs Hollingbery.
She's got a jug with her. Getting a couple
of pints for the Sunday lunch, I suppose.
Don't she ever invite you, Alf? I'd have thought
you'd got your feet under the table by now.
- Shut up.
- I mean, she ain't bad for her age, is she?
She's younger than you are.
You know what they say, the older the fiddle,
the sweeter the tune!
Any old port in a storm.
You want to get in there, Alf,
even if it was only for your Sunday lunch.
Morning.
Never mind about Mrs Hollingbery.
We're talking about the docks.
It was your bloody unions what killed the docks.
Your unions put an end to full employment,
didn't they?
Demanded too much or too little.
Wrong, Alf. Wrong. It was the "Hurry up, hurry
up," that's what put an end to full employment.
See, in the old days
we had the right idea about employment.
If we got a job, we made it last.
We didn't rush around like blue-arsed flies
like they do nowadays.
I mean, we used to not listen to all this
"hurry up” talk, this high productivity jargon.
Our philosophy was
save a bit of work for tomorrow.
- Yeah.
- We wasn't greedy like they are today.
I mean, today there's one man doing a job
where there used to be three.
And two young lads, as well.
- Job sharing, that's what we believed in.
- I know.
Everybody worked at the speed of the slowest.
- Christianity.
- Get off out of it.
Christianity, simple as that.
I mean, protect the weakest.
Don't run when others less able can only walk.
I mean, now they want to work
at the speed of the fastest.
And there's four million unemployed
to prove it.
No, mate, it's all wrong. In the old days
in them docks, you could see the work piling up.
I've seen them docks full of boats,
all waiting to be unloaded.
And hundreds more out in the channel,
laying off at anchor, waiting to come in.
You could sit in them docks and look at them
boats and say to yourself,
"If I stay at this pace, or a mite slower,
"I'll be years unloading all that stuff.”
"Use your loaf," I used to think, "and there's
enough work to last me there till I retire.”
ALI them boats laying out at anchor.
They all pissed off and got unloaded
somewhere else, didn't they?
They couldn't get unloaded anywhere else.
They had to be unloaded here.
All that cargo belonged to people here.
That's why we had them by the cobblers.
I mean, they had to be unloaded here, by us.
No good going anywhere else.
I mean, they were our imports.
All that stuff had to be delivered to people here.
Yeah, but them people got fed up waiting,
Arthur, didn't they?
The things they wanted for their factories and
their shops was all in the channel, going rotten.
That's where we came in, innit? The overtime.
Double time, triple time.
They was good days, they was, Alf.
That's when your working man was king.
- Yeah.
- You could strike in those days, all right.
I mean, they had to pay you.
They had to come to terms with you fast.
Otherwise, if they didn't,
we'd let their cargos stay out there
in the channel and rot.
Yeah, well, thanks to Margaret Thatcher,
woman though she might be,
them days are over, mate,
when the unions was running the country.
Our bloody union, they thought they was running
the country. Pathetic! They had no say at all.
I mean, that last strike we had,
we was out on strike for months, we was.
Ran out of employment benefit, supplementary
benefit, every bloody benefit, we did.
So I called a meeting, didn't I?
I got the moderates together,
all the middle-of-the-roaders
and I said, "Now look, enough is enough.
"We've shown our strength.”
(Burps) Pardon me.
"We've shown our strength.
Let's go back to work.”
So we did.
The bloody place wasn't there no more.
They had bills up, "For Sale", plastered all over.
They'd buggered off, the lot of them.
We all had to go and look for another job.
I wouldn't have minded, but I was happy there,
so don't talk to me about bloody unions.
Yeah, yeah, well, I don't know about you, Alf,
but I'm looking forward to my lunch.
I love my Sunday lunch.
Best lunch of the week, that is.
Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes.
Got fresh garden peas this week.
And a nice bit of sirloin, on the bone,
with streaks of fat running right through it.
Oh, that's going to roast well, that is.
How do you go on
about Sunday lunch these days?
Don't get none, do I?
That's hard, that is. That must be
one of the things you miss her for most.
- She was a good cook, Arth.
- Yeah, brings it home to you, don't it?
What they meant to you,
and what a sad, sad loss you suffered.
I'm suffering, Arthur. I'm suffering.
I mean, we was close, you know.
I mean, I knew I'd miss her, but...
I didn't think I'd be this bad.
No, no, I wouldn't like to dwell
on what I'd do without mine.
Good cook. Born to cook.
Born to the kitchen, she was.
Here, why don't you come
and have Sunday lunch with us, Alf?
- Oh, thanks. I'd like that, Arthur.
- Right, that's done.
I'll fix that one week.
Smell that. Smell that, go on, smell it.
Gawd, you talk about nostalgia. That's the smell
that reminds me of London on a Sunday.
Miles and miles of roast beef
and Yorkshire pudding cooking. I'd better go.
(Sniffs)
Fred.
Bloody Marigold.
He should be here on Sundays.
He should be here to cook my Sunday dinner.
Bloody useless black fairy, he is.
And that thing upstairs!
Calls herself a neighbour!
She could do it, wouldn't hurt her.
She knows I'm down here on my own.
She's got to cook for herself. She'd just as
easily cook for me. No, it's too much trouble!
I mean, I could sit here and starve,
for all any of them care.
They call their selves Christians. Oh, blimey!
Love thy neighbour?
Not one of them knocked
to see if I've got any Sunday dinner.
Oh, yeah, they put pennies in the box
for Ethiopians, they give things to Oxfam.
They're quick enough flying off to Africa,
looking for starving blackies!
But nobody, nobody knocks on my door
to see if I've got any Sunday dinner.
Where is the bloody tin opener?
Bloody Marigold!
He's always moving things.
He's always hiding things, he is. I'll sack him.
And report him to the bloody council.
There's nothing in. Look, no shopping, nothing!
Bloody idle, he is.
Rita should be here. Fine daughter she is,
leaving me here to bloody well starve.
Where is the sodding tin opener?
Bloody thing! (Incoherent ranting)
I've got a bloody tin of baked beans
I can't open
because that bloody stupid black coon
has gone and hid the sodding tin opener.
Bread. Marvellous, innit?
Dry bread for me Sunday dinner.
I bet there's no butter.
It's hardly worth looking, cos I know there won't
be any. Not if Marigold's done the shopping.
I'm right. No bloody butter!
Sod it!
Where's the cheese gone?
I put that cheese in there myself.
That bloody daft coon's gone and eaten it.
That's it, innit? That's it. Dry bread
for your Sunday dinner. Marvellous.
There's criminals,
there's bloody murderers sitting in prison
got a better Sunday dinner than I've got.
There's muggers, rapists, sitting down
to roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.
I have got to eat bloody stale, dry bread!
Bloody Labour council.
Oh, vote for us.
we'll look after you if you're poor.
We'll look after the old age pensioners.
We are the party what cares.
They don't give a shit! Not one of 'em.
Not one of them knocked and said
have I got any Sunday dinner?
Nor your SDP. I can eat dry bread
as far as they're concerned.
- (Knock at door)
- Who's that? Who's that?
I'll give 'em a bloody mouthful.
What? Oh.
- What's that?
- Hello, Mr Garnett.
It's just a bit of lunch I've brought over.
Gor blimey. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding!
Spotted dick and custard. Thank you.
It's for Mrs Hollingbery.
(Mrs Hollingbery) Is that my dinner?
Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding! Ooh!
Spotted dick and custard!
- Saves you cooking, doesn't it?
- Oh, I'm very grateful.
Well, what are neighbours for if they can't
give a helping hand? That's what I always say.
Now, go and eat it while it's hot,
and look after yourself.
And if you want anything, you know where I am.
Oh, what a nice woman. She goes to my church.
Oh, that does smell good.
Well, mustn't let it get cold.
That's it. That's it, they've had it. All of 'em.
Bloody Marigold, Rita, that thing upstairs.
They've had it! If they can't do nothing for me,
I won't do nothing for them.
That's the end of it, as far as I'm concerned.
I'll do my own cooking from now on.
And I'll open my window when I do the cooking,
and let them smell it.
And I hope they're hungry when they smell it.
Be my turn to laugh then, won't it?
(Glass shattering)
Not bad.
Yeah, that's better.
Get rid of them.
Four.
No, make it a round dozen, eh?
- £27.90
- How much?
£27.90
Oh, blimey, I thought inflation was going down.
27 pound! Nobody's told you, has they?
I can't afford that. I'm a pensioner, ain't 7
A widower. Look.
Lost me wife, didn't I?
- I'm making a meat pudding. Don't want that.
- Come on.
Do you mind waiting your turn?
I've been waiting out there, too.
You bloody wait, mate.
I'm making a meat pudding.
I don't need that. Don't want that.
Look, who put that in? It wasn't me.
And I don't eat no Jock food.
I can do without that. It's got
no golliwog on there, for a start-off.
- Wait your bloody turn.
- Sir, these customers...
- How much does that come to?
- Finished?
- Yes.
- 19 pound.
You're still way over the top, my dear.
That's no good to me, is it?
- Look, shall we make this a bit simpler?
- (Groaning)
- Shut up and wait your bloody turn.
- Look, sir, sir, how much can you spend?
Well, erm... Let's have a look.
- I've got five...
- Come on!
Just wait your turn, you silly, fat cow!
I'm talking to the manager here, ain't I?
- I've got five, seven quid in there.
- Seven quid?
Yeah. But I need a couple for the pub tonight,
so say a fiver.
- And you're making a meat pudding?
- Yeah. I've got to cook for myself, ain't I?
- Then I'll tell you what.
- Me wife died...
- There you go. There's some flour, meat.
- It's not easy, a man of my age.
And I'll throw in a bag of spuds, all right?
There you are. Compliments of the management.
- No charge?
- No charge.
Can I have the chops, an' all?
- Take 'em, and go.
- Thanks very much.
See you next week, then.
Nothing much on 'em, is there?
They're all skin.
The money they charge, too.
There's nothing on 'em.
- (Snap)
- Oh, God!
Bloody daft coon!
Christ, that's where he put my cheese.
God! I'm starving, he's feeding bloody mice.
There's no mice here, anyway.
If they've got any intelligence,
they've all cleared out years ago.
You only get mice
where there's plenty of food.
They're not stupid.
There's nothing lives in this house.
Except me, and her upstairs.
I ain't seen a fly for years.
They've all pissed off out of it.
And so would I, if I had wings.
They're all down the Dorchester, if they've got
any sense, hovering over the tables down there.
Oh, look, that looks nice. No, that's better.
Look, steak pudding, my favourite.
I'll have some of that. Nyaaah!
Perhaps that's what we come back as, fly.
Not a bad life, fly, is it?
Come in handy, them wings.
Fly anywhere you fancy.
You wouldn't have to spend the winters here.
Off into the sun. Don't have to do no work.
Get fed up flying about, just have a rest. Sit on
somebody's windowsill in the sun, have a kip.
And, they're all equal, ain't they, flies?
I mean, you always see them
eating off the same bit of food.
You don't get somebody saying, "No, you can't
come in here, you're not allowed in there.”
You don't have to bother
with the DHSS, neither.
Nor your National Health Service.
I mean, all that rubbish them flies eat,
and they never get ill, do they?
Don't have to peel potatoes, neither.
Nor cook their own dinner.
Bloody thing!
Ow!
Get off out of it!
Bloody thing! What's the matter with it?
Hello, Rita?
No, she ain't there yet.
No, see, it's the aunt-in-law's phone.
She has to run round the corner to fetch her.
Run! She'd move a bloody sight faster if
she was paying for the call, wouldn't she, eh?
I'll reverse the charges next time.
Hello? Hello, Rita?
Oh, blimey, I'm sorry about this. Only, I've got
to ask about the pastry for my meat pudding.
- The meat's cooked, and...
- I can tell you about pastry.
- Just a minute. Hello?
- Where shall I meet you, then?
- [I don't know.
- John Lewis's.
We've got a crossed line here.
- [I don't mind.
- It's up to you.
- You say.
- [/ don't mind.
Well, make up your mind
where you're going to meet, will you?
I'm waiting to talk to my daughter.
Get off the line.
We've got someone on our line, I think.
No, no, you ain't.
No, you ain't got nobody on your line, my dear.
It's me. I have got somebody on my line.
You have come onto my line.
- We were talking and you've come on our line.
- No, excuse me.
I was waiting to talk to my daughter
and you have come onto my line.
No, we were talking
and you've come onto our line.
No, you have come onto my line.
Put your phone down.
Will you put your phone down?
- No, you put your phone down!
- We were talking.
Well, shut your mouth
and give your bloody phone a rest.
Let's have enough talk, for a change.
Don't you use that language to me.
I'll use whatever language I want,
in my own language in my own house.
It's my phone, my house!
I'm on my own phone, too.
Are you? Well, get off it
and let other people use the bloody phone.
No, I won't. I'll sit here and I won't budge
till you get off that line.
Well, you bloody well sit there, missus,
and I shall bloody well sit here, an" all.
- Right!
- What? Shut up, will you?
- You keep out of this.
- Put that phone down now!
No, I'm not going to let her get away with that.
- I've got as much right to talk on my phone...
- My phone!
- ...as she has to talk on hers.
- Put that down.
No, it's the principle.
Let her put her bloody phone down.
She has come onto my line. I'm not on her line.
- It's my line.
- Yes, I know, and we was on it first.
But this is costing money!
It's costing her money, too, innit?
Hold on, hold on, I think they're gone.
- Then I told you...
- I know.
Will you get off this phone? I'm not putting
mine down till you put yours down.
If you don't get off, I'll tell the operator.
Tell the operator and I'll tell the operator too,
because you're obstructing my line.
- My line! It's not your line, it's my line!
- Well, tell her.
- I'm telling you.
- Just a minute, just a minute.
She's got her husband. You what?
It's her husband. You'll what?
You'll do what, mate?
Oh, yeah? I'd like to see you try.
Well, you come down here then, and try that.
No, I'm not coming up to bloody Liverpool,
you bloody ignorant Scouse git.
No, you come down here.
It's easy to be brave on the phone, innit?
Oh, yeah!
You come down here, mate, and you'll be sorry
you come here, I'll tell you that for a start-off.
Oh, yeah? Oh, yeah?
Look, I've done a bit, too, mate.
Give me that, give me that.
Listen, I'm sorry about all this. I...
- Yeah, all right, I said I was sorry.
- Don't apologise!
Listen!
Are you going to let me speak?
Look, don't you use that language with me.
You'll do what, exactly, you ignorant oaf?
Don't you speak to me like that.
Oh, will you? Will you?
Right, well, I'm going to trace your number.
Oh, come on, come on, Mr Garnett.
I'll help you with your pastry.
And for your information,
I am not a contortionist.
Like I told you, Mr Garnett,
if only you'll sink your pride
and try to be pleasant to Mrs Hollingbery.
- Or at least not quite so rude...
- Rude? Who's rude?
She's willing, she says, to cook for you,
provided, she says, you are prepared
to make yourself handy for her.
(Sniggers)
And what does she mean, handy for her?
Oh, jobs, that's all.
You help her out and she'll help you out.
Your daughter Rita's on my phone.
- Here, how long's she been on there?
- Oh, not long.
Well, it don't matter, does it?
That's the aunt-in-law paying this time,
ain't she?
She reversed the charges, ha ha!
I accepted them, ha ha!
- Hello, Rita?
- Well, I don't mind.
- Well, you say.
- No, you say.
It's them again.
Will you get off this bloody phone?
You'll what?
- It's the husband again. You'll what?
- Give it to me.
Will you get off my phone?
Listen, I've told you before. Will you?
Right, well, I shall spit at you.
No, you are not spitting at me.
I am spitting at you.
Did you get that, mate? That spit?
Is it dinner time yet?
When you've finished dusting,
there's the floor to do yet.
- Floor?
- Mmm.
I'm not getting on my knees
for no bloody woman.
I'd rather starve. I'm not your lackey.
And besides, your cooking ain't worth it.
# Now my old darling,
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,
bloody poorer, that's a fact
# Just cos in sickness and in health
I said I do
# In sickness and in health I said I do #