One Foot in the Grave (1990–2001): Season 6, Episode 5 - The Dawn of Man - full transcript

After seeing a man dump rubbish in the river Victor throws fishing worms in his lunch. They meet again as this is the man Nick intends to sell his house to. Patrick's gay twin brother causes confusion. Victor is mistakenly given a porn film at the video shop so he gives it to the twin but it's actually Patrick,who later tells Victor he donated it to the church fete.

# They say I might as well face the truth

# That I am just too long in the tooth?

# So I'm an CAP and weak-knead

# But I have not yet quite gone to seed

# I may be over the hill now that I have retired

# Fading away but I've not yet expired

# clapped out, run down, too old to save

# One foot in the grave #

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Oi! You! What the bloody...

Bloody moron!

I'm sorry, is that your Peugeot Estate round there?

Only, I think your front fog lamp
seems to be on for some reason.

Frankly, Mr Skinpod, what side of bed I got out of
this morning is not a matter I consider relevant.

The fact remains
that the Open Sesame automatic garage door

which you installed for me last week
has just jammed again for the seventh time.

And as BMW rather short—sightedly failed
to include a limbo—dancing option

on the new 300 series,

I'm keen to learn how you expect me
to get the car on the road.

Yes, I'll tell you exactly what's
"chaffing my hide this morning", Mr Gorringe.

It concerns a Majestic 2000 Millennium globe

that I rather foolishly ordered from your company
for my brother's birthday,

which I can't help noticing
has arrived with two northern hemispheres.

If by "one of our top service engineers",

you're referring
to the young child with the hair full of glue

who spent three hours here yesterday
wobbling around on top of a ladder

presumably in an attempt
to make his testicles drop,

—I was not impressed, Mr Skinpod.
—Unfortunately not, Mr Gorringe.

And while a world with two Europes
and no Australia

may have obvious cultural advantages,

I'm afraid it doesn't quite square
with the theory of continental drift.

I couldn't say with any certainty, Mr Skinpod,
whether it was Rick or Dave.

Although you'd very sensibly
had a ring fitted through his ear like a cow,

I'm afraid his name tag seemed to have fallen off.

Has he indeed?
Well, how very fine and dandy for him.

Well, it depends what you mean
by "very noticeable", Mr Gorringe.

I mean, had my brother been horribly blinded
in some form of industrial accident,

then certainly all our troubles would be over.

Well, do offer him my profuse congratulations,
Mr Skinpod.

And then tell him to get his arse
back round here now and finish the job.

Yes, I should expect a proper replacement
within 24 hours

or heads and hemispheres will roll.

That little twerp I had a barney with
outside yesterday,

he's only just gone and won 60,000 quid
on the mid—week lottery.


Right, then,
perhaps I'll just pop out for a few bits.

Get that bottle of whisky
you wanted to take back with you, Nigel.

It's not till 6:30, your train tonight, is it?

So I'll see you about 5:00, then. Bye.


Bloody stereo. Drives you up the wall.

Tell me about it. It was bad enough in mono.

Morning, Mr Meldrew.
I'd get it in Boots if I were you.

—The Anusol.

They'll charge you the Earth in places like this.

-Oh, I was just...
—No, I'm glad I've run into you, actually.

Only I've been meaning for ages to give you this.

It's the second prize in
the Eczema Sufferers' Tombola.

You forgot you even bought the ticket.

Donated by Mrs Cribbins from the dry cleaners.
I gather it's quite a family heirloom.

—Yes, it's...
—It's her late husband's false beard.

You remember, he always had
that chronic facial dermatitis.

Now, she's had it all
steam cleaned and everything.

But be very sparing with the gum arabic.

Yeah, right. I'll bear that in mind.

All set for the big day tomorrow?

Oh, yes, yes, yes.

They say it's one of the most traumatic events
in your life, don't they, moving house?

But, oh, I don't know.
There are far too many memories for me there...

Well, if I don't see you before you go,

keep in touch and, er...

well, hope it all works out for you.

Oh, thank you very much, Mr Meldrew.
That's very kind, and, arm...

Lots of love to Mrs Meldrew

and bye—bye to you.

Bye, Mr Swainey.

WOMAN ON TV“. ...released seven months early...

...charred hinterland of the Chachinji.

A ragtag army of farmers and simple goatherds
waits for another dawn to break.

But with daylight
comes the renewed threat of mortar attack.

And already behind me, forces loyal to the junta
have begun shelling rebel positions.

This is Skip Hoberman for CNS News
on the southern slopes of the Argai-Bolak pass.

What is this supposed to be like? Any good?

Depends if you like watching grown men
take their clothes off.

You haven't got anything
a bit stronger down there, I suppose?

How do you mean exactly, a bit stronger?

Pippa, how lovely to see you. Come and sit down.
I think this is still warm.

I'm sorry about this, but I just had to get away
from the Brothers Grimm this morning

or go completely doolally.

Oh, is this the one you've been telling me about?
He's been over from Norfolk?

Yes. Just been out to get him
a drop of the hard stuff

before we see him off at the station.

Plus, a little treat for myself,

which I think I deserve after three weeks of that.

I can't remember if you've told me.
Is he divorced?

No, he's never married, Nigel.

-Got more sense?

Well, he's got a crush on Jonathan Dimbleby,
which is not quite the same thing.

Apart from that side of things,
he's so much like Patrick it's frightening.

It's like every phone call
is an episode of Kavanagh QC

I mean, what is it with men?

They're another species. It's like this one.

Bought himself a fishing rod now,
would you believe? With all the gubbins.

Think he has the first idea how to cast a line?

Took a woodpecker out of a tree
the other morning.

Poor thing ended up beak first
down an old lady's jogging shorts.

What a nightmare!
Oh, I should be picking up a prescription.

Oh, right, well, I'll tag along with you,
as far as the bus stop.

Oh, for God's sake!


I don't know. That surgery gets worse.
Talk about headless chickens.

Oh, and why didn't you throw this back, Victor?


Into the bloody fridge where it came from?

Must be at least three days past its sell—by.

Why you keep going in that place is beyond me.

You know,
I think he's chiselled me out of that popcorn.

—Out of what?
—Dodgy Douglas.

He said he'd a nice bit of popcorn at the back,
if I fancied it, to go with the video.

—Then he didn't put it in, if you please.
-Leave it.

What with that other bastard first thing,
I'd just about had a day of it.

Still, it'll be good material for when I give my talk.

Your talk?

Why a bunch of old dears would want to sit
and listen to you moan and groan

about everything under the sun, I can't imagine.

I think your cousin Ivor
must be going soft in the head.

"P.S. Gladys sends her love and says,

“when are you going to come
and give a little lecture to our Women's Institute?

“We're sure the Gospel
according to Victor Meldrew

“would be the highlight of their year!"'

Exclamation mark.

I'm thinking of basing it around the theme
of evolution gone wrong.

Neanderthal man did not in fact die out.

He went to work for Sky Digital.

Ruddy performance we had with them.

Oh, you'll never guess
what I saw this morning on the news.

An American reporter
who looked just like Mr Swainey.

It was incredible. I think the tape is still in there

because I was watching it
before Pippa came round.

Says she's just about had a bellyful of it lately,

what with Patrick's brother coming over to stay.

Really? I didn't know he had one.

Yes. Gay, apparently.

But just like Patrick in every respect.

I suppose it must just be coincidence, that other.

But I thought... Oh.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

What's this she's left behind?

Do you mean they're completely identical?

Sorry? Oh, well, yes. Facially, the spitting image.

I wonder why he never said anything.


What about?

Perhaps they just try and steer clear of each other.

I mean, if you've got a twin brother who's gay,
it could lead to all sorts of mix—ups.

Do you want to peel those potatoes
while I get this pie on?

Yeah. Can do.

What's this?

Oh, I don't know.
Some video that Pippa left behind.

"Dwayne Spartacus and Mighty Joe Schlong

"in Mounted Police 5, "

Yes, I might sit and watch that after tea
if there's nothing else on,

while you do the washing up.

Now, can we imagine in our wildest dreams
that he's been back to fix it?

After he's just won a fortune on the lottery?

I should think he's jacked the job in.
He's halfway to Barbados by now.

Or have a few firm words
on the phone this morning

taught him the error of his ways?

The little bastard. I'll kill him.





What is this racket...?

What is this?

It's not Dixon of Dark Green.


Can you imagine going out and buying
your brother—in—law something like that?

Hard stuff, she said.

My God!

I mean,

is that what some men actually...

—Where do you think she got it?
—I don't know.

All I know is that's your first job
tomorrow morning, to take it back to them.

Where did I put those smelling salts?

Oh, thanks for polishing off my cabernet.

I've been looking forward to that all afternoon.

Oh, I'm sorry. I thought it was going begging.

After all the upheaval today,
I needed something to steady my nerves.


I don't know. I just suddenly felt a bit clogged up

from the... Some reason.

I mean, just look at that.
You've done everything but suck the bloody cork.

Where is the cork anyway?

There's no way of saying this delicately, Patrick.

It's gone quite a long way in.

Don't just stand there twittering. Get it out.

Oh, right. What am I now?
A qualified parasitologist? How?

Well, I don't know.
How do you normally get a cork out?

I suppose.

Not that one, you witless woman.
The one in the drawer that we take on holiday.

How's that going to work?

I feel very uncomfortable doing this.

Isn't that funny? Whereas I seem to be growing
ever more relaxed and confident.

Can you just get on with it, please?


I'm sorry about that.
Perhaps we'd better call the hospital.

Morning, Mr Meldrew. You're up bright and early.

I thought...

You never said
you were only moving two doors along.

Sorry? Oh, yes. I always wanted an end—house

and, as I say, wanted to make a fresh start
without really leaving the area.

So, soon as I heard the McVities
were emigrating, I leapt straight in with an offer.

Of course, I still haven't found a buyer
for number 21,

but isn't that funny? You didn't know about it.

—Funny? Why...
—MARGARET: Morning, Mr Swainey.

—You settling in all right?
-Oh, yes.

There's that news report I was telling you about.

You see what you make of that
when you have a moment.

I will, Mrs Meldrew. Sounds very intriguing.

That was another thing, Mr Meldrew.
I've got a couple coming round to view at 3:00.

The estate agent says they sound quite serious.
Mr and Mrs Gleeson.

Oh, right. Fingers crossed there, then.

Yes, he said that the husband was
a very nasty piece of work, apparently.

Very violent. And by all accounts,
it's a total fluke he found the place.

Apparently, he was in the area yesterday morning,
having lunch at some pub

when some lunatic
stuck a load of maggots in his food.

Said he tried to drive after him but lost him
at the roundabout just down the road here

and that's when he noticed my sign post.


Yes, he says if he ever sees this chap again,
he's going to beat the living shit out of him.

Never heard such language.

But anyway, I'll bring him round later
so you two can get to know each other.

I'm sure he's not as bad as he sounds.
See you later, then, Mr Meldrew.

There's no need to go to all that trouble, Mr...

chucking it down out there.

Why don't you just leave it till later?

If I leave it till later, the place will be packed.

With all the usual walking wounded,
people with tennis rackets through their heads,

I'll be lucky to see a doctor this side of Christmas.

So how do you think they're going to get it out?

Well, I imagine they'll just give me eight pints
of Tizer and tell everyone to stand well back.

I'm sure they have a tried and tested procedure
for this sort of thing.

Why is it we don't have any umbrellas any longer?

Because you keep leaving them all in restaurants.

Oh, hang on. I think I left
that lavender one of mine in the kitchen.

Lavender one?

Yes, if you think I'm going to be seen
walking around with that in my hand,

you're very much mistaken.


Excuse me. We've never met before.
My name is Victor Meldrew.

I'm a friend of your sister—in—law's,
and I think she might have...

Well, anyway, this is yours, I think, so...

A ragtag army of farmers and simple goatherds

waits for another dawn to break.

But with daylight
comes the renewed threat of mortar attack.

And already behind me, forces loyal to the junta
have begun shelling rebel positions.

This is Skip Hoberman for CNS News
on the southern slopes of the Argai-Bolak pass.

Yes, well.

If you want to know about pubs,
the man to ask is probably my husband,

who should be home... Oh, talk of the devil.

Well, that gives us a chance to get off now,
doesn't it?

I said I'd give you a hand

to take that stuff up the tip before it closes.

Oh, yes. That would be handy.

I'm home. Margaret? Sorry about the time.

I didn't want to get here too soon
in case he came round with that ruddy...

Yes, Victor.

When you come downstairs, perhaps you'd like
to have a wee chat with Mr and Mrs Gleeson,

who may soon be moving in next door.

Mr Swainey and I
are just popping out for half an hour.

Well, nice to have met you both. Bye.

Now, I'm not saying he will get out.

But if he does,
you don't let him know you're frightened, okay?

That's the worst thing you can do
with a pit bull, that is.

Right, so he's not dangerous, then, exactly.


He killed a bleeding swan the other day
and brought it back to the house, didn't he?

As I say, you got to use a bit of psychology.

Well, I don't want to hurry you both,
but the way the traffic is at this end of town, oh!

All right.

So hope to see you again,
perhaps in the near future.

—Thanks for the beers.
—Not at all. Thank you. Bye.

Okay, so you like the taste of worms.

Well, thanks very much, then, Mrs Meldrew.
I appreciate you spending the time.

Yes. I'm surprised at how much junk
you do accumulate over the years

without even being aware of it.

Could do with a good clear—out ourselves
one of these days,

if it comes to that.

Are you all right, Mr Swainey?

I thought you'd be more chipper today
with the new house and everything.

Oh, yeah, yeah, well, of course, I am.

I suppose.

It's ever since I gave you that tape to watch.

That man, he wasn't anyone you...

—He wasn't a relative or anything?
-Oh, no, no, no, no.

It's just a bit of a shock to the system,
something like that,

as if, I don't know,

someone was taunting me

with a glimpse of the man I should have been.

It's hard to imagine Skip Hoberman
living at home with his mother for 40 years,

running tombolas

like an overgrown Boy Scout.

Life isn't just about ambition, Mr Swainey.

Just earning the respect of others

as a decent and gentle human being

is enough for anyone to be proud of.

Oh, yeah, I've certainly wheeled a lot
of old ladies about, Mrs Meldrew,

but who's gonna wheel me about?


I suppose all this will be going into your lecture,
will it? To the Women's Institute?

Oh, did you get rid of that other monstrosity,
by the way, this morning? I forgot to ask.

I never want to see the likes of that again.

What is it for them, do you think,
about American policemen that's so exciting?

Yes, it's hard to imagine having an erotic fantasy
about Officer Dibble in Top Cat.

I suppose it must just be a combination

of that kind of thing and...

Policeman and...

Oh, no.

You would...

Yesterday afternoon,
when you bought that stuff from Dodgy Douglas...


He said he had some nice popcorn out the back,
if you fancied it.


And you said...

Oh, God, Victor!

What? What have I done now?

That tape didn't come out
of Pippa's bag in there at all.

It must've fallen out of yours.

How could it come out of my bag?

'Cause when you came out of that shop
yesterday afternoon,

you came out with a video of cop porn.

As if that wasn't bad enough,
we've just handed it over to...

What are they going to think?

Right, I'll be off in a sec, then.

You gonna be all right this evening?

I'm not gonna come home and find you
with a marmite lid up your bottom or anything?



I'm sorry, Mr Meldrew? Video.
Yes, yes, I did give the title a quick glance.

Something to do with Canadian Mounties,
wasn't it?

Yes, as it happens,
I was up at the hospital this morning.

They were appealing for donations
for the new children's annexe.

Books, videos, toys, that sort of thing.

And there was a big plastic skip
just inside the door,

so I put it in there.

Sorry, Mr Meldrew, are you all right?

It just sounded like you were having
some kind of pulmonary embolism.

Video? What video is this, then?

This one here
containing hardcore gay pornography.

Quite what compelled him
to give it to me in the first place

will almost certainly never be known,

but it is, I fear, a deranged act
which cannot go unpunished.

Well, what now?

It's in a bin at the Chartres General.

And that casualty closes at 8:00.
The cases are passed on to the Bedford.

—Well, we can't just leave it there.

We certainly can't.


Why is it whenever you're in a good mood,
I break out in a cold sweat?

Go on, what have you found?

Just a brief but rather satisfying item in the local.

Under the heading, "Angling for Trouble."

Says, "Police were called to the Accident
and Emergency wing of Chartres General

"on Friday night to investigate reports
of a madman on the hospital roof.

"The man, believed to be in his 605,
was discovered squatting near a hole

"in the glass skylight, where he appeared
to be fishing into a box of toys.

"As the officers watched, he proceeded
to reel in a succession of video cassettes

"each of which he unhooked,
glanced at and then threw back again.

"The man, who was later escorted off the premises
screaming incoherently about popcorn,

"was subsequently identified as Mr..."
Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

So I suppose you're on top of the world now.


Look at this.

I sent a pocket calculator away to be repaired,

and it comes back in all this lot.

I've just been talking to Mr Swainey out there.
He's in a good mood.

Apparently, that Skip Hoberman's
just been blown up by a land mine.

He's taking it as a sign.
You're better off not trying to be a hero.

I mean, this is the ultimate proof, isn't it,
that we're descended from apes.


Bloody stuff. What are you supposed to do with it?

You can't fold it. You can't squash it.
You can't bend it.

Don't start. Oh, stop that!

Look, look,

the little white globules stuck
in the carpet like dandruff.

If you must do that, take it outside.

Now, then, I know what this'll be.
From cousin Ivor.

Dropped him a line to ask him
when he wanted me to give my talk.

Oh, wonderful.

—Well, that's that, then.
—Why? What does he say?

"Dear Victor, thank you for your recent enquiry.

"Unfortunately, when we asked if you could
address a meeting of the Women's Institute,

"we were not being entirely serious.

"'Can you imagine,' Gladys says,

“trying to sell tickets to a talk by Victor Meldrew?

“We wouldn't be able to pay people to come!”

Exclamation mark.

"Well, our best wishes and love to Margaret. Ivor."