My Family (2000–2011): Season 1, Episode 3 - Droit de Seigneur Ben - full transcript
Ben learns a patient's son is making advances toward his daughter. Susan has tickets to the opera.
- Do you know who that is?
- No, I don't, actually.
One minute I turned my back
and the next, there he was!
Bang! Sprung up like a fungus.
He is Lord Whitten, champion
of organic farmers everywhere.
Whereas to me, he's simply
lost filling with receding gums
and breath that could kill a horse.
As usual, Mr H, you're missing the point.
Lord Whitten's all-natural England Gala
was in this week's Hello!
And you're missing the point that time,
whilst generally cruel, is also money
and as we have two regular,
scheduled patients outside
and your job is dental assistant,
assist me, OK?
- Right, sit back and relax.
- Yes.
Kind of you to fit me in
at such short notice.
Very efficient young girl.
Really? Did you give him
Novocaine or gas?
We've been in London
for this soiree thrown by the missus
and I lost a filling in a devilled egg -
undoubtedly from a battery hen.
They get depressed in cages
and lay eggs like rocks.
So I called around for assistance
and you came up highly recommended.
It's always nice to be
recognised in one's field.
Yes. Just around the corner and cheap.
- How very flattering.
- No, that's important.
Just because I have a title,
doesn't mean I'm made of money.
Everyone's always asking for something.
- Know what I mean?
- Yes, I have three children.
- Don't start me on children!
- I didn't.
Did you start him on children? No.
My son's with us on holiday.
I'm sure you'd love me to get a move on
so you can rush back to his side.
No, I don't! He's at one
of those arty schools.
The wife's a big believer in arty.
Even the gals are arty.
Hair growing everywhere,
legs like grizzly bears. Horrible.
So, shall we carry on?
If you'd like to open wide
and try not to let any words escape.
Can I just say that
I was deeply, deeply moved
by your pamphlet on
the recycling of faecal waste.
- Really?!
- Yeah.
Now this is the sort of girl
my son should be meeting.
- Hm.
- Solid, natural.
Are we still talking faecal waste?
So, my dear, is 17 too young for you?
I'm sorry, I'm actually celibate this cycle.
Far too much information here.
No, no, no, you misunderstand.
It's purely innocent.
- Nothing about sex.
- Then what's the point(?)
Anyone else hungry
or shall we call out for sandwiches?
- You have a daughter.
- No, I don't.
- Janey's charming.
- You don't live with her.
Is she a normal, teenage gal?
That's a contradiction in terms.
No, I mean, does
she have a pierced eyelid?
- No.
- Nails in her neck?
Not yet.
Has she clipped her personal topiary
into the shape of a duck?
I just hope I never find out.
Splendid, splendid.
Do you mind if I ask my son
to give her a call?
Jolly good. You can carry on now.
You did what?!
It wasn't my idea, for God's sake!
- It was Brigitte's.
- Just deny all responsibility!
I tried that when you were born.
It didn't work.
Oh! You may think this is funny
but you've completely ruined my life!
Ah.
- Who was that?
- He's ruining my life.
- Your father.
- Do you know what he did?
- Is this multiple choice or essay?
- He set me up on a blind date.
- That's so...
- Repulsive?
I was going to say "sweet".
Right. Firstly, Dad has no judgment.
He wears socks with his sandals
and he has hair in his ears.
It's very impressive that a human
can carry such lush vegetation
in their ears.
This is Dad we're talking about.
- Imagine the loser he'll pick?
- Me.
So, what's that?
This is Mozart's Don Giovanni,
one of the greatest operas.
No, that, with the hole in the middle.
I just felt myself age 50 years.
Would take that thing out of here?
OK.
Did your father say
when he was coming home?
- Hopefully never.
- Don't be rude.
So sorry! Daddy didn't say
when he was coming home,
he was too busy mucking up my life.
Much better.
You may not find this so sweet
when I jump off Tower Bridge
and get swept to sea.
Don't be so dramatic.
The Thames is an estuary,
you'll probably be swept
only as far as Barking.
Which, I believe, lacks some of
the romance you'd want.
Isn't there another room you can go to?
- I'm not bothering you.
- You're in my line of sight.
Don't take it out on me just cos
Dad has to find you dates.
I don't need anyone to find me a date,
especially with some posh git
I'm supposed to drool over
cos his dad's
Lord Whitebum or something.
You mean Lord Whitten?
"Enjoying a joke
with his lovely wife Serena at Crufts."
What have you got there?
- There's a picture in Hello!
- Yeah, right!
Yeah.
- Oi!
- Oh, my God!
That's his son?
He's absolutely gorgeous.
No. I'll feed the children early.
Mum! He's absolutely gorgeous! Look.
Oh, very nice.
Is that Dad?
I think Janey has something
she wants to say to you.
Get off the phone,
I have to call Maxine.
Don't! I was drawing that.
I call it Lonely Coat Stand.
Ah. Now it's Useful Coat Stand.
- Get the hint?
- Philistine.
- Cretin.
- Dentist.
Layabout.
Cool! My art's already controversial.
That's what you are now, is it? An artist?
Yeah. Do you think
there's an afterlife, Dad?
God, I hope not.
Cos I had this dream last night
that Leonardo da Vinci
popped in and said,
"Nick, mate, I've two words
for you - nude models."
The Leonardo, that is amazing.
And those were his very words?
"Nick, mate. Nude models."
Actually, it was, "Caro Nico,
due parole: modelle nude."
- I mean, he is Italian.
- I mean... Course.
It's great being an artist.
You can work from home,
you get to express your feelings.
- But you don't make any money.
- I'm a starving artist.
- You're home late.
- I know. Bloody NHS.
I spend more time
filling in forms than teeth.
Oh, poor baby.
- Hungry?
- Not really.
The kids have already eaten
and I've whipped up your favourite meal.
God! My favourite meal.
- Chinese takeaway.
- Oh, thank you!
- Hm?
- Just saying grace.
Well, we've a lot to be thankful for.
Yes. One of the kids has left a spring roll.
Yes. And you've made
your daughter very happy.
- Really?
- Yes.
She's out with young Whitten now.
But let her thank you herself.
And remember to act surprised.
- Can I gloat?
- No.
Then what's the point in being right?
Because you're a wonderful father
and a thoughtful and generous husband.
What's the catch?
Oh, there's no catch.
It's more... a surprise.
A surprise.
This weekend the Baldwins
have tickets to the opera.
Oh, I hate the Baldwins.
I don't like going out with them.
No, they can't go
and they've given us their tickets.
See? That's why I hate the Baldwins.
Come on, you haven't been to
the opera in 20 years.
Perhaps that's a clue.
But it's Don Giovanni, your favourite.
Never heard Don Giovanni!
Maybe if you did, it would be.
I hate the opera.
It's always in Italian or worse - German!
I never know what's going on
and it's boring as hell.
- And I have a solution.
- Oh, no.
Opera! Libretto,
with a complete translation,
word by word, note by note.
- S...
- No! Don't interrupt!
I have thought this through.
If you listen to the whole thing
while reading along with the libretto,
when we go to the opera,
you'll know exactly what's going on.
Marvellous! I get to be
bored out of my mind twice.
- Trust me in this.
- No.
What? Have you ever been disappointed
when I've said, "Trust me"?
Let's see, there's the truffles
that turned out to be toadstools,
there's the short cut
through the safari park
and there's the ever-famous,
"My parents won't be home for hours".
- You do bear a grudge!
- I also bear scars.
Come on, it's only three hours
of your life.
That's the point, it's my life.
And as pathetic as it might be to some,
it is still my life.
I have watched football with you,
I've been to dental conventions
and sat through lectures entitled
Gingivitis - The Forgotten Plague.
And I never complained.
Do you know why?
So you can throw it in my face
at moments like these.
Because love means sacrifice.
Fine.
(# Woman singing in Italian)
(Stops)
Too big a sacrifice.
Whatever you're doing, stop it.
Don't move. I'm nearly finished.
I'm drawing you.
I call it Atlas With World On His Shoulder.
Hm, really?
Actually it's
Nude With Chip On His Shoulder.
What do you mean, nude?
What's this?!
I couldn't afford a proper nude
so I had to use my imagination.
Don't. I look like Homer Simpson.
I paint what I see.
The next thing you paint will be
my hands approaching your throat,
now go away - and I haven't got
a chip on my shoulder,
I'm trying to keep this family afloat.
We're all behind you.
You're trying to drive me mad,
your art and your mother's opera.
It's like we're a Renaissance family.
Yeah, the Borgias.
You know, your mother wants me
to waste three hours of my life
by listening to that.
So why don't you?
Can't be any worse than doing that.
The way I see it is we're all
gonna screw up whatever we do
so why not screw up on
the side of, "Why the hell not?"
What really frightens me
is you're almost making sense.
Great. Can you give me the money
to hire a proper nude?
One with... Instead of one with...
- Go away.
- Fine.
Fine. You can crush the artist
but not the art.
Crushing the artist works for me.
(# Soaring string section from
Mozart: Don Giovanni)
(Door opens)
Hi, Janey.
(Ben) Hey! Hold on.
(Sighs)
How'd it go?
It was fine, Dad. Really fine.
No, it was more than fine.
It was brilliant. OK?
In fact, it was so brilliant
you should give up dentistry
and start up a dating agency.
Now leave me alone!
(Mouths)
She makes opera sound rational.
Has this gone off?
It's two days beyond the sell-by date.
I don't know. Smell it.
Well, what if it smells bad?
Then I get a bad smell in my nose.
Life is such a veil of tears.
Don't put it back.
We don't want it if it's off.
- Should I throw it out?
- Not if it's still OK.
You give such mixed signals, Mother.
Thank you.
At least someone cares about me.
- You can drink it.
- Yeah? Cheers, mate.
- So, is it off?
- A bit chewy.
Morning. Have fun last night?
- It was OK.
- Just OK?
I don't want to talk about it.
Look at them grunting, they're such pigs.
Your brothers in particular
or the entire male gender?
Both. They all make me ill.
Some of them are quite nice.
I remember all the feelings I had
when I was first going out.
The thrill of the chase,
what they kissed like,
how I felt when I touched them.
Mum!
God!
I don't wanna end up in therapy.
It's just sex, boys.
Works every time.
Come on, it's just us girls, so tell.
Nothing to tell.
OK, I was just curious.
I'm here, you're here, no pressure.
Whenever you want to talk.
Oh, for God's sake!
I only had a daughter
to have these intimate moments!
Give me something.
What do you want to hear?
That dinner was nice?
That he was a great kisser
till he wouldn't stop?
- Stop kissing?
- What do you think?
Oh, my God.
It's not an "Oh, my God".
It could have been, but wasn't.
What did you do?
He didn't understand the word "no"
so I used international sign language.
Palm to the jaw! We learnt it in PE.
Good Lord, all we learnt in PE
was how to climb a rope.
What? In case the Vikings attacked?
I will overlook that
given the special circumstances.
I dealt with it. End of story.
No, not of end of story.
He assaulted you.
And I assaulted him back.
Anyway, I shouldn't have
got into the car.
Really? Listen, Janey.
When you went into that
awful tattoo parlour
and got that loathsome tattoo,
which will be the subject
of a different conversation...
- No. I love my tattoo.
- OK. But supposing you didn't?
Suppose you went into the place,
even chose the design,
but then changed your mind. What then?
Would he have any right
to go ahead anyway
just because he'd already
whipped out his little needle?
Janey, it was in no way your fault
and however you want to deal with it,
I'm on your side.
Thanks, Mum.
How about a hug?
- I don't need a hug.
- I do.
And that dreadful tattoo still has to go.
Ben.
Ben.
- Ben.
- (Groans)
Are you sleeping?
Mm-hm.
Are you planning on sleeping long?
Mm-hm.
How much longer
are you planning on sleeping?
What? What is it?
What do you want to tell me?
OK, it's nothing. You're clearly in a state.
Ah. What sort of state is that?
Clearly not the state of sleep
or the state of peace and tranquillity,
which I'll never attain
till I'm in a state of death.
I'm not talking to you
when you're in a mood.
Thank you.
Even though that Whitten boy
tried to assault our daughter.
(# Dramatic chords from Don Giovanni)
What?
In the back of his father's Jag.
(# Dramatic orchestra)
No!
She's fine, though.
That's what you think, is it?
No, Susan, this is droit du seigneur.
- Excuse me?
- As in Don Giovanni
when the lord of the manor
had the right to take the virginity
of any maiden in the realm.
You've been listening to Don Giovanni!
No, I haven't, actually. I was, erm...
- It's common knowledge.
- No, it isn't.
- Oh, you're so sweet!
- I am not sweet.
I'm a father, I'm incensed.
Ben, please don't make a scene.
Damn right I'll make a scene.
A boy tries to assault
my daughter, the little snot.
She feels she's handled it.
I don't care what she thinks she thinks,
I'm her father. I know what she thinks.
I wish I'd never woken you up.
Do you remember what the
Commendatore did to Don Giovanni
when he messed with his little girl?
- He put a sword in the toad.
- No, it's other way around.
The toad killed the father.
- No, he didn't.
- Yes. Right at the beginning.
That's why I hate opera.
Even when I read the instructions,
I still don't get it.
- I'm gonna kill him.
- No! You can't do anything.
If you do, Janey'll know I told you.
- But you just did.
- You're not supposed to know!
- Then why did you tell me?
- Because I couldn't sleep.
Neither can I now.
But I feel a lot better.
Well, that makes it all worthwhile, then?
Remember, if you do talk to her,
act like you don't know anything.
I've had a lot of practice.
- (Knocking)
- What?
Hiya.
Erm... l-I'm going down for a few biscuits,
do you want anything?
- No, thanks.
- OK. Fine.
- What's that smell?
- It's incense.
- It adds an aura of mystery.
- A bit like Mum's cooking.
(Laughs nervously)
Right, it's been fun chatting.
See you.
So, erm, how was the date last night?
Dad, I really have to work.
- What are you studying?
- French.
I was good at French.
Zut.
Not bad, huh?
Alors.
It was boring, all right?
The meal was a bore,
the film was a bore, he was a bore.
So, boring, eh?
Can I say something about boys...
from the male perspective?
Please, God, no.
Look, I-I've got to say this
otherwise I won't get back to sleep.
Erm... the thing is,
there's two basic differences
between men and women
and, er, one is that
girls mature very quickly
and boys don't...
mature at all.
So they, to make up for this deficiency,
develop two brains.
A big brain that gives us our reasoning
and a little brain that tells us what to do.
- Am I making myself clear?
- Disgustingly so.
You understand what I'm saying?
What I don't understand is how Mum
could tell you after I told her not to.
This is not your problem.
Yes, but you are my problem.
You see, you've been this bewildering,
complex, little problem for 16 years.
And I don't think I'm gonna solve you.
- Really, Dad?
- Yep.
I'm not quite sure what that means
but I'll assume it's something good.
One more thing, when boys
and girls reach a certain age...
Dad, I'm not a vir... ery...
naive person.
(Squeaky voice) All right, so, erm...
By saying that you're not
a vir... ery naive person,
you mean you're not very naive?
- Yep. That's what I meant.
- That's...
Great. OK.
Good. Good.
Susan. Susan!
- Hmm...
- Susan!
Do you know what
our daughter has just told me?
That she was sleeping
and you woke her up?
No. She told me she's not
a vir... ery naive person.
You don't know
how completely mad you sound.
Our daughter is no longer a virgin.
And she told you this?
Yes.
And you believed her? (Chuckles)
Oh, no!
Of course! Well, that's a relief.
- Good night.
- Good night.
(Ben still chuckling)
You'll never guess
who's in the waiting room.
Correct.
If you don't try, I won't tell you.
- Good.
- Lord Whitten's son.
(# Dramatic chords from Don Giovanni)
- What?
- He broke a tooth on something.
Yes. My daughter's bra strap.
(# Dramatic orchestra)
Wait a minute.
That boy tried to assault
my daughter Janey!
How could you let her go out with him?
- Maybe I should call her.
- Don't do anything. Ever again.
Oh, I promised not to say anything
and there I go telling you.
Most men crack under
the pressure of my interrogation.
You only said "What?"
I know. It's uncanny, isn't it?
Send in the patient.
Come on, Harper, you're a professional.
You took an oath.
Signor.
- Thanks for seeing me.
- I'm surprised to see you.
Believe me, I didn't want to come.
But Father insisted and you know Father.
Oh, yes.
So, you have something to tell me.
Yes. Can we get a move on, please?
I'm in a hurry.
So, are we in much pain?
- No.
- Hm, we'll soon see about that.
If you'd like to open wide,
we'll have a little look.
Now... does this hurt?
Argh!
Good. Yes, a broken incisor.
We'll need 10cc of Novocaine, Brigitte.
So, I bet you have a wild story
about how this happened.
Well, vaguely.
I was getting stuck into
a rather bony little chicken.
- Bony little chicken?
- Yes.
It was a tough little bird.
Not quite the quality I'm used to.
Right. Syringe, please.
But you know Father,
with all his blahdy-blah
about natural, solid and plain.
And he calls the shots.
No, I'm afraid at the moment,
I call the shots.
Now, if you'd like to open wide.
This won't hurt a bit.
Let's begin, shall we?
Thank you. Right.
It's showtime!
- Wait!
- Are we numb yet?
No, you haven't given me
my Novocaine.
Ah, good.
- Are we numb now?
- No!
Are you crazy?
Don't you understand the word "no"?
Me? Didn't you understand the word
"no" when my daughter said "no"?
What is he talking about?
Don't play games with me, Toby.
I'm not Toby. I'm James.
- You're who?
- I'm James. Toby's brother.
Oh...
Your father never mentioned a James.
He never mentions me at all.
I'm not natural enough
for his all-natural England.
You don't eat organic?
No, no, no, I'm gay.
Gays don't eat organic?
Stop it! Let me get this straight,
this bony little chicken
didn't mean my daughter?
No, it was a bony little chicken.
I am so sorry.
I am so confused.
It's enough I have to put up
with my crypto-fascist father.
I'm away from home,
away from my friends...
I don't know anyone in London.
Tell you what, James,
Mr Harper has a son.
Well, my darling, you are really right.
That was worth every penny.
- We were given the tickets!
- Even better.
I loved it apart from
Zerlina's Wedding Feast,
someone snoring in our row.
- I didn't hear anything.
- Because it was you.
I was resting my eyes. And I don't snore.
I thought someone had escaped
from the French horn section.
Good night. It's been a lovely evening.
Of course, the evening
doesn't have to end.
My parents won't be home for hours.
What did you have in mind?
How about I'm the young maiden
and you're Don Giovanni.
OK. Are you gonna keep awake?
The opera was three hours.
What about the overture
and selected highlights?
- If I choose the highlights.
- OK.
Night.
- No, I don't, actually.
One minute I turned my back
and the next, there he was!
Bang! Sprung up like a fungus.
He is Lord Whitten, champion
of organic farmers everywhere.
Whereas to me, he's simply
lost filling with receding gums
and breath that could kill a horse.
As usual, Mr H, you're missing the point.
Lord Whitten's all-natural England Gala
was in this week's Hello!
And you're missing the point that time,
whilst generally cruel, is also money
and as we have two regular,
scheduled patients outside
and your job is dental assistant,
assist me, OK?
- Right, sit back and relax.
- Yes.
Kind of you to fit me in
at such short notice.
Very efficient young girl.
Really? Did you give him
Novocaine or gas?
We've been in London
for this soiree thrown by the missus
and I lost a filling in a devilled egg -
undoubtedly from a battery hen.
They get depressed in cages
and lay eggs like rocks.
So I called around for assistance
and you came up highly recommended.
It's always nice to be
recognised in one's field.
Yes. Just around the corner and cheap.
- How very flattering.
- No, that's important.
Just because I have a title,
doesn't mean I'm made of money.
Everyone's always asking for something.
- Know what I mean?
- Yes, I have three children.
- Don't start me on children!
- I didn't.
Did you start him on children? No.
My son's with us on holiday.
I'm sure you'd love me to get a move on
so you can rush back to his side.
No, I don't! He's at one
of those arty schools.
The wife's a big believer in arty.
Even the gals are arty.
Hair growing everywhere,
legs like grizzly bears. Horrible.
So, shall we carry on?
If you'd like to open wide
and try not to let any words escape.
Can I just say that
I was deeply, deeply moved
by your pamphlet on
the recycling of faecal waste.
- Really?!
- Yeah.
Now this is the sort of girl
my son should be meeting.
- Hm.
- Solid, natural.
Are we still talking faecal waste?
So, my dear, is 17 too young for you?
I'm sorry, I'm actually celibate this cycle.
Far too much information here.
No, no, no, you misunderstand.
It's purely innocent.
- Nothing about sex.
- Then what's the point(?)
Anyone else hungry
or shall we call out for sandwiches?
- You have a daughter.
- No, I don't.
- Janey's charming.
- You don't live with her.
Is she a normal, teenage gal?
That's a contradiction in terms.
No, I mean, does
she have a pierced eyelid?
- No.
- Nails in her neck?
Not yet.
Has she clipped her personal topiary
into the shape of a duck?
I just hope I never find out.
Splendid, splendid.
Do you mind if I ask my son
to give her a call?
Jolly good. You can carry on now.
You did what?!
It wasn't my idea, for God's sake!
- It was Brigitte's.
- Just deny all responsibility!
I tried that when you were born.
It didn't work.
Oh! You may think this is funny
but you've completely ruined my life!
Ah.
- Who was that?
- He's ruining my life.
- Your father.
- Do you know what he did?
- Is this multiple choice or essay?
- He set me up on a blind date.
- That's so...
- Repulsive?
I was going to say "sweet".
Right. Firstly, Dad has no judgment.
He wears socks with his sandals
and he has hair in his ears.
It's very impressive that a human
can carry such lush vegetation
in their ears.
This is Dad we're talking about.
- Imagine the loser he'll pick?
- Me.
So, what's that?
This is Mozart's Don Giovanni,
one of the greatest operas.
No, that, with the hole in the middle.
I just felt myself age 50 years.
Would take that thing out of here?
OK.
Did your father say
when he was coming home?
- Hopefully never.
- Don't be rude.
So sorry! Daddy didn't say
when he was coming home,
he was too busy mucking up my life.
Much better.
You may not find this so sweet
when I jump off Tower Bridge
and get swept to sea.
Don't be so dramatic.
The Thames is an estuary,
you'll probably be swept
only as far as Barking.
Which, I believe, lacks some of
the romance you'd want.
Isn't there another room you can go to?
- I'm not bothering you.
- You're in my line of sight.
Don't take it out on me just cos
Dad has to find you dates.
I don't need anyone to find me a date,
especially with some posh git
I'm supposed to drool over
cos his dad's
Lord Whitebum or something.
You mean Lord Whitten?
"Enjoying a joke
with his lovely wife Serena at Crufts."
What have you got there?
- There's a picture in Hello!
- Yeah, right!
Yeah.
- Oi!
- Oh, my God!
That's his son?
He's absolutely gorgeous.
No. I'll feed the children early.
Mum! He's absolutely gorgeous! Look.
Oh, very nice.
Is that Dad?
I think Janey has something
she wants to say to you.
Get off the phone,
I have to call Maxine.
Don't! I was drawing that.
I call it Lonely Coat Stand.
Ah. Now it's Useful Coat Stand.
- Get the hint?
- Philistine.
- Cretin.
- Dentist.
Layabout.
Cool! My art's already controversial.
That's what you are now, is it? An artist?
Yeah. Do you think
there's an afterlife, Dad?
God, I hope not.
Cos I had this dream last night
that Leonardo da Vinci
popped in and said,
"Nick, mate, I've two words
for you - nude models."
The Leonardo, that is amazing.
And those were his very words?
"Nick, mate. Nude models."
Actually, it was, "Caro Nico,
due parole: modelle nude."
- I mean, he is Italian.
- I mean... Course.
It's great being an artist.
You can work from home,
you get to express your feelings.
- But you don't make any money.
- I'm a starving artist.
- You're home late.
- I know. Bloody NHS.
I spend more time
filling in forms than teeth.
Oh, poor baby.
- Hungry?
- Not really.
The kids have already eaten
and I've whipped up your favourite meal.
God! My favourite meal.
- Chinese takeaway.
- Oh, thank you!
- Hm?
- Just saying grace.
Well, we've a lot to be thankful for.
Yes. One of the kids has left a spring roll.
Yes. And you've made
your daughter very happy.
- Really?
- Yes.
She's out with young Whitten now.
But let her thank you herself.
And remember to act surprised.
- Can I gloat?
- No.
Then what's the point in being right?
Because you're a wonderful father
and a thoughtful and generous husband.
What's the catch?
Oh, there's no catch.
It's more... a surprise.
A surprise.
This weekend the Baldwins
have tickets to the opera.
Oh, I hate the Baldwins.
I don't like going out with them.
No, they can't go
and they've given us their tickets.
See? That's why I hate the Baldwins.
Come on, you haven't been to
the opera in 20 years.
Perhaps that's a clue.
But it's Don Giovanni, your favourite.
Never heard Don Giovanni!
Maybe if you did, it would be.
I hate the opera.
It's always in Italian or worse - German!
I never know what's going on
and it's boring as hell.
- And I have a solution.
- Oh, no.
Opera! Libretto,
with a complete translation,
word by word, note by note.
- S...
- No! Don't interrupt!
I have thought this through.
If you listen to the whole thing
while reading along with the libretto,
when we go to the opera,
you'll know exactly what's going on.
Marvellous! I get to be
bored out of my mind twice.
- Trust me in this.
- No.
What? Have you ever been disappointed
when I've said, "Trust me"?
Let's see, there's the truffles
that turned out to be toadstools,
there's the short cut
through the safari park
and there's the ever-famous,
"My parents won't be home for hours".
- You do bear a grudge!
- I also bear scars.
Come on, it's only three hours
of your life.
That's the point, it's my life.
And as pathetic as it might be to some,
it is still my life.
I have watched football with you,
I've been to dental conventions
and sat through lectures entitled
Gingivitis - The Forgotten Plague.
And I never complained.
Do you know why?
So you can throw it in my face
at moments like these.
Because love means sacrifice.
Fine.
(# Woman singing in Italian)
(Stops)
Too big a sacrifice.
Whatever you're doing, stop it.
Don't move. I'm nearly finished.
I'm drawing you.
I call it Atlas With World On His Shoulder.
Hm, really?
Actually it's
Nude With Chip On His Shoulder.
What do you mean, nude?
What's this?!
I couldn't afford a proper nude
so I had to use my imagination.
Don't. I look like Homer Simpson.
I paint what I see.
The next thing you paint will be
my hands approaching your throat,
now go away - and I haven't got
a chip on my shoulder,
I'm trying to keep this family afloat.
We're all behind you.
You're trying to drive me mad,
your art and your mother's opera.
It's like we're a Renaissance family.
Yeah, the Borgias.
You know, your mother wants me
to waste three hours of my life
by listening to that.
So why don't you?
Can't be any worse than doing that.
The way I see it is we're all
gonna screw up whatever we do
so why not screw up on
the side of, "Why the hell not?"
What really frightens me
is you're almost making sense.
Great. Can you give me the money
to hire a proper nude?
One with... Instead of one with...
- Go away.
- Fine.
Fine. You can crush the artist
but not the art.
Crushing the artist works for me.
(# Soaring string section from
Mozart: Don Giovanni)
(Door opens)
Hi, Janey.
(Ben) Hey! Hold on.
(Sighs)
How'd it go?
It was fine, Dad. Really fine.
No, it was more than fine.
It was brilliant. OK?
In fact, it was so brilliant
you should give up dentistry
and start up a dating agency.
Now leave me alone!
(Mouths)
She makes opera sound rational.
Has this gone off?
It's two days beyond the sell-by date.
I don't know. Smell it.
Well, what if it smells bad?
Then I get a bad smell in my nose.
Life is such a veil of tears.
Don't put it back.
We don't want it if it's off.
- Should I throw it out?
- Not if it's still OK.
You give such mixed signals, Mother.
Thank you.
At least someone cares about me.
- You can drink it.
- Yeah? Cheers, mate.
- So, is it off?
- A bit chewy.
Morning. Have fun last night?
- It was OK.
- Just OK?
I don't want to talk about it.
Look at them grunting, they're such pigs.
Your brothers in particular
or the entire male gender?
Both. They all make me ill.
Some of them are quite nice.
I remember all the feelings I had
when I was first going out.
The thrill of the chase,
what they kissed like,
how I felt when I touched them.
Mum!
God!
I don't wanna end up in therapy.
It's just sex, boys.
Works every time.
Come on, it's just us girls, so tell.
Nothing to tell.
OK, I was just curious.
I'm here, you're here, no pressure.
Whenever you want to talk.
Oh, for God's sake!
I only had a daughter
to have these intimate moments!
Give me something.
What do you want to hear?
That dinner was nice?
That he was a great kisser
till he wouldn't stop?
- Stop kissing?
- What do you think?
Oh, my God.
It's not an "Oh, my God".
It could have been, but wasn't.
What did you do?
He didn't understand the word "no"
so I used international sign language.
Palm to the jaw! We learnt it in PE.
Good Lord, all we learnt in PE
was how to climb a rope.
What? In case the Vikings attacked?
I will overlook that
given the special circumstances.
I dealt with it. End of story.
No, not of end of story.
He assaulted you.
And I assaulted him back.
Anyway, I shouldn't have
got into the car.
Really? Listen, Janey.
When you went into that
awful tattoo parlour
and got that loathsome tattoo,
which will be the subject
of a different conversation...
- No. I love my tattoo.
- OK. But supposing you didn't?
Suppose you went into the place,
even chose the design,
but then changed your mind. What then?
Would he have any right
to go ahead anyway
just because he'd already
whipped out his little needle?
Janey, it was in no way your fault
and however you want to deal with it,
I'm on your side.
Thanks, Mum.
How about a hug?
- I don't need a hug.
- I do.
And that dreadful tattoo still has to go.
Ben.
Ben.
- Ben.
- (Groans)
Are you sleeping?
Mm-hm.
Are you planning on sleeping long?
Mm-hm.
How much longer
are you planning on sleeping?
What? What is it?
What do you want to tell me?
OK, it's nothing. You're clearly in a state.
Ah. What sort of state is that?
Clearly not the state of sleep
or the state of peace and tranquillity,
which I'll never attain
till I'm in a state of death.
I'm not talking to you
when you're in a mood.
Thank you.
Even though that Whitten boy
tried to assault our daughter.
(# Dramatic chords from Don Giovanni)
What?
In the back of his father's Jag.
(# Dramatic orchestra)
No!
She's fine, though.
That's what you think, is it?
No, Susan, this is droit du seigneur.
- Excuse me?
- As in Don Giovanni
when the lord of the manor
had the right to take the virginity
of any maiden in the realm.
You've been listening to Don Giovanni!
No, I haven't, actually. I was, erm...
- It's common knowledge.
- No, it isn't.
- Oh, you're so sweet!
- I am not sweet.
I'm a father, I'm incensed.
Ben, please don't make a scene.
Damn right I'll make a scene.
A boy tries to assault
my daughter, the little snot.
She feels she's handled it.
I don't care what she thinks she thinks,
I'm her father. I know what she thinks.
I wish I'd never woken you up.
Do you remember what the
Commendatore did to Don Giovanni
when he messed with his little girl?
- He put a sword in the toad.
- No, it's other way around.
The toad killed the father.
- No, he didn't.
- Yes. Right at the beginning.
That's why I hate opera.
Even when I read the instructions,
I still don't get it.
- I'm gonna kill him.
- No! You can't do anything.
If you do, Janey'll know I told you.
- But you just did.
- You're not supposed to know!
- Then why did you tell me?
- Because I couldn't sleep.
Neither can I now.
But I feel a lot better.
Well, that makes it all worthwhile, then?
Remember, if you do talk to her,
act like you don't know anything.
I've had a lot of practice.
- (Knocking)
- What?
Hiya.
Erm... l-I'm going down for a few biscuits,
do you want anything?
- No, thanks.
- OK. Fine.
- What's that smell?
- It's incense.
- It adds an aura of mystery.
- A bit like Mum's cooking.
(Laughs nervously)
Right, it's been fun chatting.
See you.
So, erm, how was the date last night?
Dad, I really have to work.
- What are you studying?
- French.
I was good at French.
Zut.
Not bad, huh?
Alors.
It was boring, all right?
The meal was a bore,
the film was a bore, he was a bore.
So, boring, eh?
Can I say something about boys...
from the male perspective?
Please, God, no.
Look, I-I've got to say this
otherwise I won't get back to sleep.
Erm... the thing is,
there's two basic differences
between men and women
and, er, one is that
girls mature very quickly
and boys don't...
mature at all.
So they, to make up for this deficiency,
develop two brains.
A big brain that gives us our reasoning
and a little brain that tells us what to do.
- Am I making myself clear?
- Disgustingly so.
You understand what I'm saying?
What I don't understand is how Mum
could tell you after I told her not to.
This is not your problem.
Yes, but you are my problem.
You see, you've been this bewildering,
complex, little problem for 16 years.
And I don't think I'm gonna solve you.
- Really, Dad?
- Yep.
I'm not quite sure what that means
but I'll assume it's something good.
One more thing, when boys
and girls reach a certain age...
Dad, I'm not a vir... ery...
naive person.
(Squeaky voice) All right, so, erm...
By saying that you're not
a vir... ery naive person,
you mean you're not very naive?
- Yep. That's what I meant.
- That's...
Great. OK.
Good. Good.
Susan. Susan!
- Hmm...
- Susan!
Do you know what
our daughter has just told me?
That she was sleeping
and you woke her up?
No. She told me she's not
a vir... ery naive person.
You don't know
how completely mad you sound.
Our daughter is no longer a virgin.
And she told you this?
Yes.
And you believed her? (Chuckles)
Oh, no!
Of course! Well, that's a relief.
- Good night.
- Good night.
(Ben still chuckling)
You'll never guess
who's in the waiting room.
Correct.
If you don't try, I won't tell you.
- Good.
- Lord Whitten's son.
(# Dramatic chords from Don Giovanni)
- What?
- He broke a tooth on something.
Yes. My daughter's bra strap.
(# Dramatic orchestra)
Wait a minute.
That boy tried to assault
my daughter Janey!
How could you let her go out with him?
- Maybe I should call her.
- Don't do anything. Ever again.
Oh, I promised not to say anything
and there I go telling you.
Most men crack under
the pressure of my interrogation.
You only said "What?"
I know. It's uncanny, isn't it?
Send in the patient.
Come on, Harper, you're a professional.
You took an oath.
Signor.
- Thanks for seeing me.
- I'm surprised to see you.
Believe me, I didn't want to come.
But Father insisted and you know Father.
Oh, yes.
So, you have something to tell me.
Yes. Can we get a move on, please?
I'm in a hurry.
So, are we in much pain?
- No.
- Hm, we'll soon see about that.
If you'd like to open wide,
we'll have a little look.
Now... does this hurt?
Argh!
Good. Yes, a broken incisor.
We'll need 10cc of Novocaine, Brigitte.
So, I bet you have a wild story
about how this happened.
Well, vaguely.
I was getting stuck into
a rather bony little chicken.
- Bony little chicken?
- Yes.
It was a tough little bird.
Not quite the quality I'm used to.
Right. Syringe, please.
But you know Father,
with all his blahdy-blah
about natural, solid and plain.
And he calls the shots.
No, I'm afraid at the moment,
I call the shots.
Now, if you'd like to open wide.
This won't hurt a bit.
Let's begin, shall we?
Thank you. Right.
It's showtime!
- Wait!
- Are we numb yet?
No, you haven't given me
my Novocaine.
Ah, good.
- Are we numb now?
- No!
Are you crazy?
Don't you understand the word "no"?
Me? Didn't you understand the word
"no" when my daughter said "no"?
What is he talking about?
Don't play games with me, Toby.
I'm not Toby. I'm James.
- You're who?
- I'm James. Toby's brother.
Oh...
Your father never mentioned a James.
He never mentions me at all.
I'm not natural enough
for his all-natural England.
You don't eat organic?
No, no, no, I'm gay.
Gays don't eat organic?
Stop it! Let me get this straight,
this bony little chicken
didn't mean my daughter?
No, it was a bony little chicken.
I am so sorry.
I am so confused.
It's enough I have to put up
with my crypto-fascist father.
I'm away from home,
away from my friends...
I don't know anyone in London.
Tell you what, James,
Mr Harper has a son.
Well, my darling, you are really right.
That was worth every penny.
- We were given the tickets!
- Even better.
I loved it apart from
Zerlina's Wedding Feast,
someone snoring in our row.
- I didn't hear anything.
- Because it was you.
I was resting my eyes. And I don't snore.
I thought someone had escaped
from the French horn section.
Good night. It's been a lovely evening.
Of course, the evening
doesn't have to end.
My parents won't be home for hours.
What did you have in mind?
How about I'm the young maiden
and you're Don Giovanni.
OK. Are you gonna keep awake?
The opera was three hours.
What about the overture
and selected highlights?
- If I choose the highlights.
- OK.
Night.