Play for Today (1970–1984): Season 9, Episode 20 - Coming Out - full transcript

[drum roll ripples]

[phone rings]

[gentle music]

[raindrops patter]

[phone ringing stops]

[mousetrap snaps]

[tense music]

[fast-paced music]

[water splashes]

[lid clatters]

[door slams]



[typewriter clatters]

This morning before dawn,
feeling rampantly potent,

I decided to arouse my wife.

I put a hand where it matters
most, and I kissed her.

"Get your tongue out
of my mouth," she said,

"It's too early for that."

Then she pulled my hair a
bit, and she laughed a bit,

and then she took the initiative,

as usual.

She moved about on top of
me, like a voluptuous jockey.

Hmm.

Hitting me on the chest,

and shouting at the top of her voice.

Obscenities, mostly.



Shouting obscenities,

er, no. Correction,

shouting rhythmic obscenities.

There was blood on my chest

where her nails had torn the skin.

I could hear her laughing.

I laughed too, overcome
by a sense of fai...

I do not recall hearing you knock,

and I certainly didn't ask
you to come in, Plasche.

Read these, they're disgusting.

What are they?

Zippy Grimes' fan mail.

You deal with them,

they're disgusting.

What, all of them?

Read them.

Plasche, I don't suppose

you could occasionally dust
this office, could you?

If you continue to treat
me as a domestic servant,

I shall find myself another job.

Oh, what, at your age? [chuckles]

Next you'll be telling
me you're going to marry

that praying mantis of a boyfriend.

I'm not so thrilled by all this

that marriage would
seem like an intrusion.

I think it's a splendid
idea, Plasche, splendid.

A woman without a man is
like a door without a handle.

Sexist pig.

[door slams]

Naughty.

[typewriter clatters]

Very rude.

[typewriter clatters]

I feel negative vibrations.

What am I supposed to do with these?

You opened the box, Pandora.

[paper rasps]

Oh, thank you for your helpful advice.

I shall cherish it.

What exactly does a hair fetishist do?

I don't know.

I suppose he rolls about
in it or something.

Seriously though, Plasche,
I can't answer these.

I warned you not to write that article,

this is just the start.

What are you talking about?

That was a perfectly
serious piece of work.

Then why didn't you have the
guts to put your name to it?

You.

-Two copies, right?
-[Dictaphone thuds]

[Cecilia] Please.

You are not indispensable, you know.

You can't sack me, I know too much.

True.

It's easy to write about
things like this, isn't it?

I don't have to look at your face, do I?

I don't have to give my name or address.

It happened so long ago, in 1964,

and it's been preying
on my mind a lot lately,

I don't know why.

[Letter writer] It's
funny, after all these.

I must tell someone,

and I don't want to tell my wife.

The thing is, Zippy,

I killed this man, see?

Well, boy, really.

He was queer, like you,

I choked him with a patchwork cushion

and put him in the garden.

Smothering, I suppose you'd call it.

My wife was out,

gone away to her sister in
Bournemouth for two days.

I met this boy in the market

and took him home

and we did

this thing.

Mind you, Zippy, I'm not
saying I didn't enjoy it,

because I did.

But he got awkward afterwards.

He got silly.

Not nasty mind,

the opposite, really.

I think he was just lonely.

He wanted to come back again, see?

I couldn't have that, could I?

Not with the wife and everything.

Nobody ever wrote anything
in the papers that I saw.

Nothing about this boy

being missing from the town or anything.

And then we moved,

and that garden's part of a reservoir now,

so they'll never find him,

will they?

Not under all that water.

[footsteps click]

Here, I 'aven't finished that, miss.

[cup rattles]

[traffic roars]

[tyres crunch]

[car door slams]

Hello, Alan, still digging for victory?

The names Brian. [sniffs]

He's bloody not here again.

So I see.

Every bloody Wednesday,
he's bloody not here.

Why don't you come another day?

Bloody piano lessons.

[sighs] Close the door.

[door slams]

I said, close it, not wreck it.

I'm going to tell my father.

I don't doubt it.

No doubt you will make
yourself at home, Alan.

Brian!

Little monster.

[piano music trills]

Yeah, that's fine, just
it's B natural, not B flat,

but other than that you're
getting on very well.

Okay, same time next week.

Practise the piece I gave you.

Fancies you rotten, that one.

-She's not bad.
-Mm.

Goodnight, Mr. Lloyd.

[Richie] Goodnight.

Goodnight, Mr. Duncan.

I've seen bigger boobs
on a carrot. Goodnight.

I meant her playing, actually.

Oh.

-Lewis?
-Mm?

I thought you were going
to get supper ready.

Oh, oh yes.

Can we have Curry tonight?

You should have shares
in that bloody takeaway?

Where were you?

Hmm?

Earlier.

Oh yes, yes.

I'm sorry about that Russell brat.

If you must have that
little runt as a pupil,

you might try and be here when he arrives.

Listen, I'm sorry,

it's just that Gunnar wanted
to get on with the painting

while the light was good.

You know what he's like.

Yes.

How's the portrait coming?

Oh, all right.

Just that I hadn't realised
it was going to take so long,

that's all.

Oh, thanks.

What are you doing?

Oh, Harry's given me these
Zippy Grimes fan mail

-to look at.
-Oh, any offers of marriage?

[chuckles] Only from the men.

You mean you've actually
had letters from women?

Why the surprise?

Over 70% of the readers,
of "Arbiter" are women.

-I didn't know that.
-Yeah.

What are you going to do about
your pupils, when we move?

Well, Surrey isn't exactly
a cultural desert is it?

I'll put an ad in the local paper.

Yeah, I mean the ones you already have,

like what's-her-name, and that
ghastly little nose-picker.

Well,

they'll just have to find
themselves another teacher,

won't they.

Rich.

You're not getting cold feet, are you?

I'm getting bloody hungry.

Oh, yeah.

I'll go and get some money.

Gunnar has asked us to dinner.

Where?

Ugh. That's a bloody stupid question.

Well, when?

It depends on you, next
week, Friday, Saturday.

Either.

Well, which?

Well, I'm not sure I want to go.

But he's your friend, not mine.

It was your idea he
should paint my portrait.

It's not him.

It's that evil queen, Gerald.

Ooh, love him, hate her.

[Lewis chuckles]

What should I tell Gunnar?

Oh,

Friday.

Okay.

Come on.

I'll get some food inside you,

before you fly into one
of your Wagnerian rages.

Oh God.

What the hell are you doing?

Playing happy families.

It's been like lying
next to Clapham Junction.

Do you think you could
take a pill or something?

All that huffing and puffing
and groaning and moaning,

it's wearing me out.

Sorry.

[mug clinks]

Thank you.

Mm,

nectar.

Curry always dries me out.

It's like getting sunburn on the inside.

What?

Eating Curry, dear.

Oh.

-Don't.
-What?

They're in piles.

Yes, well, I can see that.

No, no, no specifically.

I put them in piles,

pathetic,

crazy,

illegible,

and filth.

Seems to be rather more
filth than anything else.

Hmm.

How do you distinguish
between pathetic and crazy?

Well, pathetic's sad.

Crazy's just wild.

Then there's the Jesus freaks

and the ones who think

they're going to turn into monsters

because they've slept with a man,

quite a few Catholics among that lot.

And there's one there

who thinks his pecker's
gonna turn into a beak.

I think that one's pretty pathetic.

Yeah. Actually, none
of them are very funny.

In fact, they're bloody depressing.

Except possibly the illegible ones.

I can't read those,

so I can't really tell
whether they're comic.

Well, throw them away.

Yeah, I probably shall.

Listen, you dizzy faggot,

it's three o'clock in the morning,

so what's so important about all these?

Well, they're important to
the people who wrote them.

At least some of them were.

Come on, beddy-byes.

Come on.

[Lewis sighs]

You know that stuff

is supposed to rot your teeth, don't you?

They told me that would
happen if I wanked too much.

[laughs] No, that was your eyesight,

not your teeth.

The mind boggles,

all those toothless schoolboys
going blind. [laughs]

Lewis,

if you really are that
worried about the letters,

why don't you send them
all back to the magazine?

-They were addressed to me.
-No, they were not.

They were not addressed to Zippy Grimes.

Well, I'm Zippy Grimes.
I was Zippy Grimes.

No one knows that except for you and me.

Yes. And Harry Essendorf,
and Cecilia Plasche.

That's three too many already.

Let Harry deal with the letters.

He'll probably throw them away.

He probably will.

Harry's tougher than my
mother, and she's metallic.

If you kicked Harry in the balls,

you'd probably break
your ankle. [chuckles]

Come to think of it, the
same goes for my mother.

[Lewis sighs]

-Rich?
-Hmm?

Have you ever been

scared of something

and you didn't know why,

You didn't know what it
was you were scared of?

Not lately.

For hours,

sometimes days.

Irrational, Lewis.

Yeah.

Irrational.

And very frightening.

[gentle piano music]

[Richie yawns]

This one's nice, Gunnar.

[Gunnar] Hmm?

The landscape.

Ah.

It's a good thing cows aren't green.

What?

We'd never be able to see them otherwise.

[Gunnar grunts]

Clever of God, that,
not making cows green.

Oh please, keep your head still.

Sorry.

I didn't know you did landscapes.

I don't,

that's one of Gerald's.

Oh,

is it?

Well, I still like it, though.

Sorry.

[Gunnar] Are you comfortable like that?

Not really. Like what?

[Gunnar] With your legs crossed.

My God, you can't paint
crossed legs, can you?

I'll paint them knotted if you like.

I was thinking of your circulation.

I'll probably get cramp anyway.

You are supposed to be
looking to the front.

Sorry.

Am I allowed to talk?

I don't seem to be able to stop you.

It won't put you off?

That depends on what you talk about.

You see, even if cows were green,

we'd still be able to see them
by the whites of their eyes,

and their big pink tongues.

[Gunnar and Richie laugh]

Sorry.

Ah, hello, Harry.

Oh, I'm sorry about that.

They wouldn't let me in without one.

You're late.

Yes.

Oh, I see you had the same problem.

This, you prick cost me
16 quid in Bond Street.

[Lewis] Sotheby's?

What'll you have?

Uh, wine, please.

I wouldn't.

White, please.

Dry, sir?

Yes.

And another green one for the host.

Come.

I suppose a smile would
spoil his image, would it?

Is he always like that?

He's a barman, petal,

who cares whether he's
got one foot in the grave?

He keeps the rest of us going.

How to extract from the
dead the secret of life.

What is that?

Nevermind.

You're late, Mr. Duncan.

Yeah, I'm sorry, it's the traffic.

You're very late.

Busy editors don't like
to be kept waiting.

I'm sorry, Harry.

I thought you employed a
minion to keep you alert,

that creature with a name like an anagram.

Plasche?

Yeah, well she's not a computer, you know,

she makes mistakes too.

I'm not that late.

Plasche, that's it,

Cecilia Plasche.

Poor cow.

She must be followed by
a chorus of gesundheits

every time her name's mentioned.

[chuckles] Do that again.

-What?
-Put your tongue out.

-Lewis.
-No, no, really.

Behold the Himalayas.

-Oh.
-Nasty?

Very.

How many of these things have you had?

Who's counting?

Ah, Chateau I.C.I.,

don't say I didn't warn you.

They get it by the
cubit from Leather Lane.

Thank you, Marten,

[coins rattle]

most grateful.

Er.

Don't forget to remove the empty glass.

His name's Marten with an E.

To Marx, Karl and Groucho.

What's in that concoction.

Grasshopper.

Creme de menthe, and cream,

and a little bit of this and that.

What, at this time of day?

Have to feed the ulcer, petal.

Yeah, if the ulcer doesn't
get you the heart attack will.

Cheers.

Book going well?

Well enough, yes.

How's Richie?

Fine.

How's Margaret?

Getting worse.

She had the locks changed on Monday,

I had to climb through the loo window.

She's threatening to leave me.

Well, she's been doing that for years.

Have you any idea how humiliating it is

to live with someone who's
completely indifferent to you?

Yes.

She's this bloody incredible crazy.

She dyed the kids'
clothes yellow last month.

I felt as if I was taking
canaries to school every morning.

Now she's taken up colonic irrigation.

She leaves weird bits
of rubber everywhere,

like entrails,

shuts herself up in the
bathroom for hours on end

and gets all the towels wet.

I always thought that
colonic irrigation, you know,

had something to do
with Greek agriculture,

and that subject was never
a strong point of mine.

I've never really had a
satisfactory explanation

as to why the bath water
doesn't go at your bottom

when you sit in the bath.

[chuckles] I'm going to miss you.

Why, where are you going?

I thought you were?

Well, I'm only going to Surrey,

it's not the Outer Hebrides, Harry.

Dropping out?

No, I was just a bit tired of London.

Sick of trees with
their roots in concrete.

And Richie?

It was a joint decision.

It's a very boring club, Harry.

Well, I suppose the
wallpaper is a bit listless,

Somewhere neutral?

Something like that,
too loud at my office,

too pokey at yours.

Ah.

What's it all about, Harry?

[papers thud]

More?

By every post, flower.

Ah.

You don't like it, do you?

Yes, I like it,

it's just that I think my nose is a.

What?

Well, a little

better than that.

-No?
-No.

Hmm, charming.

Hey,

you bought a copy.

What is it?

This month's "Arbiter."

Oh, Gerald bought that.

There's some gay article
he wants to read in it.

It's Lewis'.

What?

The article, Lewis wrote it.

Good Lord.

But why didn't Gerald tell me?

Well, he didn't know about it,

Lewis used another name.

What's it about?

Well, it's a sort of open
letter to homosexuals

telling them that they're
not really all that special,

so why don't they stop moaning

about how badly they're being treated?

[chuckles] Gerald won't like that.

He's being very militant at the moment.

Oh dear.

Lewis says that gays ought to climb down

from their martyrs' pedestals,

clean up their own back yards,

before they start
throwing dirt at the law.

You know, importuning in public,
loos, that sort of thing.

-Zippy Grimes?
-Mm.

I don't know where he got that name from.

"Some boys are pitiless flirts,

clutching their tubes of KY like shields,

and yet still virgo intacto.

They promise pleasure to all,

without any thought of
the despair they can cause

when it turns out they're
merely playing at courtship."

And Lewis really wrote this?

Don't tell Gerald, you see
it's supposed to be a secret.

I must read it.

Later.

[zipper clicks]

I think you should put on your jumper now,

and go home to Lewis.

Lewis is out.

Lewis is always out.

And when he's not out,
he's in, which is worse.

I like Lewis,

he's a good friend.

Pangs of conscience?

What a warm heart you have, Richie.

Good company, though.

No,

not very good.

Another happily married man,

worried about his gay sex life.

Quote; "If every man or woman

who'd enjoyed a homosexual relationship

turned purple overnight,

there'd be a lot of embarrassed faces

around the nation's
breakfast tables" unquote.

Zippy Grimes.

Good stuff.

And there are more, quite a few more.

Why all the drama, Harry?

I mean, why all this?

Why didn't you send them like the others,

I mean, they're no different?

Oh, come on.

You've never had a reaction
like this to one of your books.

What, letters? Of course I have, more.

Oh sure, ultimately.

But that would be over a
period of months, wouldn't it?

Years maybe.

This is four days, Lewis.

116 letters already,

and we only published
the article on Thursday.

Very flattering.

Don't give me that bullshit.

This is gold, and we want more.

No.

The loot's good, petal,

we'll go much higher on this one.

Look, I have told you,

the Zippy Grimes thing
was a one off article.

I didn't want to write
it in the first place.

Listen, we took a chance
on this and it paid off.

You? You took a chance?

Oh, all right, split hairs,

"Arbiter Magazine" took a chance.

We're not in the habit

of publishing articles about homosexuals.

And I'm not in the habit of writing them.

What about my reputation?

You used a pseudonym.

Who the hell's gonna know the
Zippy Grimes, practising poof

is really famous butch
novelist Lewis Duncan?

Who also writes children's books,

and goes to schools, and
moralises on TV chat shows.

Look, if you've done it once
without any repercussions,

why not again?

These are repercussions.

This, all this.

Read them, take them home.

No.

Listen, you cocky bastard,

that article touched a receptive nerve.

A follow up can't go wrong.

On my mother's grave, Lewis.

Your mother is still alive.

They need answering.

I don't mean individually,

I mean collectively, in another article.

They're begging for help, God damn it.

They need a spokesman.

They need someone like you.

Someone like Zippy Grimes
to speak out for them.

Our communication obviously
seems to be fraying.

I'm not going to write any
more Zippy Grimes articles,

right?

I can't make it plainer than that.

It's not on, Harry.

Lewis, why not just meet
some of these people?

[scoffs] Are you out of your mind?

Have you any idea how nutty

some of these characters probably are?

So be selective.

Pick the ones that seem genuine.

Talk to them, let them talk to you.

Send me the bill,

there's a dozen articles in this lot.

Look, I'm a novelist,
I'm not a journalist.

This is a bloody sight better

than any of your books, flower.

[sighs] Having a drink with you, Harry,

is certainly not a fringe benefit.

Well, back to the humdrum.

Do you know what I think?

I think those articles have
really shaken you up, Lewis.

I think you've too much compassion

just to turn your back on
these people and walk away.

Do you know your trouble?

You think too much.

See you, flower.

Don't you ever get sick
of spending your days

doing exactly what's expected of you?

Yes I do.

Don't you?

Come out of the closet, Lewis.

Oh good, no damp.

Another winter and they'd
have needed a diver to fix it.

This should get the little buggers.

There we are, come and get it.

You wouldn't believe
it possible, would you?

I mean, what do they actually find to eat?

Wood, probably.

Mice don't eat wood.

How do you think they make their holes,

with a Black & Decker?

[laughs] They may gnaw it,

but they don't eat it, surely.

[footsteps tap]

[birds sing]

Any of the garden ours?

Yes.

From there, right the way through

to the corner of the wall here.

Oh, that's good.

Yeah, it's beautiful.

Better than Belsize Park, anyway.

You couldn't plant anything

in that nasty little concrete patch.

Do you think you'll enjoy it here?

I didn't see why not.

[bottle clinks]

[footsteps scuff]

Look, they put the phone in.

Oh, good.

We'd better make a note of the number.

[Lewis] For our use only, all right?

-What?
-Keep it between ourselves,

for the moment,

okay?

It's your flat.

[wine splashes]

[wine splashes]

Thank you.

Ah, a crack in the ice, how very jolly.

I thought we might have to
spend the entire evening

in total silence.

Funny.

I distinctly recall having a few words

when I came back from the theatre.

How was the opera?

Uncomfortable.

If I'd sat any higher, I
might've had a nose bleed.

And the tenor?

She looked divine in tights.

Pathetic voice, but the
size of her sexual organs

might get her to La Scala.

Organs? He had more than one?

That's a no-no, Gunnar dear,

leave the funnies to your Auntie Gerald.

All this because I asked Richie to dinner.

-Richie?
-Hmm.

Good heavens, Gunnar,

what do I care for that
pretty little predator?

Richie Lloyd's just a
sign of the times, dear.

A striking example of spiritual decadence.

It's Lewis I can't abide.

Every time that man comes near me,

I develop a psychosomatic twitch,

he's so dull.

Don't underestimate Lewis.

Wouldn't dream of it, darling,

I'm sure he's found a
duller that even I imagine.

He's a very clever writer.

Dull, dull, dull.

Lewis is the sort of man

who looks both ways
before crossing his legs.

Please, at least try
to be civil on Friday.

Oh, I shall, I shall,

even if it gives me a main course nausea.

Did you arrive in my life,
Gerald, simply to foul it up?

Oh dear.

Home truths? It'll end in tears.

You know, I think you're mad.

A suspicion reinforced by
my taste in men, ducky.

I feel sorry for you Gerald.

One day, you won't even have enemies left.

[crockery clatters]

Careful, you'll break something.

[traffic roars]

[Lewis] The forbidden
fruit the city has to offer

is almost always tasteless,
or overrun, or poisonous.

I suppose sex can be a
career like any other,

but most male whores have no heart.

And that's never more evident

than when they try to
pretend that they have.

Some of them are full of anger and hatred,

which often gets dismissed
as bloody mindedness.

Those are the dangerous ones.

There are exceptions, of course.

Enjoy it?

Yes I did.

You don't have to go yet.

I wasn't going to, I haven't finished yet.

Could have fooled me.

It'll cost you.

What, for conversation?

Oh, you're one of those.

You know, I've worked it out.

In a week, working five hours a day,

you can earn upwards of £500 a week.

That's excluding Sundays.

Sometimes less, sometimes more.

there's overheads, see,
laundry, that sort of thing.

And I charge extra for dressing up.

Dressing up?

Oh you mean boots and things?

Oh, boots, breeches, sailor boy, drag,

guardsmen, cops, knickers, the lot.

Gotta pay for the
clobber, comes expensive.

I can imagine.

Some of them just wanna talk,

so I charge less for that.

I mean, 20 quid to get into
bed and yak's a bit steep.

Still, no skin off my nose.

Do you have regulars?

Yeah, sure.

Black Polo's a good lay.

Clean sheets, no clap, get
your rocks off in style.

Why do you call yourself Polo?

'Cause I'm cool and sweet, man.

With a hole in the middle.

[laughs] Right.

Even so £500 a week without tax, [scoffs]

I'm really in the wrong profession.

I earn it, mister.

You wouldn't believe some of
the tricks that come in here.

42 guys I went with last week.

Yeah, 42.

And all of them dogs.

All of them.

You see that?

yeah, I felt it.

Two years ago that happened.

Nice guy, picks me up,
gets me back to his place.

Takes his time with the ups and downs.

Then tells me he's got a social disease.

Pulls a knife out, doesn't
he, when I get shirty,

what happens?

I wake up bleeding to death
on a rubbish tip in Hounslow.

I earn my money.

Did they get him?

Did they what?

The police, did they get the man?

Shit, man, he was a policeman.

Wanna drink?

No.

[glass thuds]

How do you know I'm not a cop?

Wrong smell.

[Lewis chuckles]

Are you?

No,

I'm Zippy Grimes.

What?

Hey man, why didn't you tell me?

Well, I wanted to get
my money's worth first.

Hey, that's great.

So you got my letter?

Yeah, you weren't very
complimentary about my article.

Yeah, well, only the
bits about guys like me.

Where'd you get all that shit from?

You just make it up?

Do I act like I got no heart?

Well, do I?

Tell you what, Zippy baby,

just to show you this is one
whore with a heart of gold,

have one on the house, huh.

[paper crackles]

You'd be a lot nicer
to work with, Plasche,

if your manner who was
a little less furtive.

It's 10 to five, If I don't
go now I shall miss my train.

Well go.

Well, these arrived this
afternoon from Harry Essendorf.

Well leave them.

I don't know what to do with them.

Leave them, and I will
look at them later at home.

Place is a pigsty.

I thought you had a train to catch?

I've missed it.

Plasche,

who's your favourite film star?

Male or female?

Male.

Alive or dead.

Oh if you're gonna be difficult, I'm-

Oh all right,

Sean Connery.

Ah, thank you.

Do you fancy him?

I mean, you want to go to bed with him?

Yeah.

I've seen "Goldfinger" three times.

And if 007's on the television,

I won't even answer the telephone.

Would it alter your opinion of his films

if I told you that he was queer.

He's not!

No, of course he isn't.

But supposing I were to
tell you that he was,

and that I had it on really good authority

that he was gay.

What would you think of it then, eh?

Hmm. Wouldn't stop me liking his films.

I mean, What does it all
matter nowadays anyway?

I was thinking of all
those little old women,

who asked librarians for the
latest Lewis Duncan thriller.

Oh, I get it.

You mean if they found out you were queer,

would they still enjoy your novels?

Well, it does alter
things a bit, doesn't it?

The author of those love scenes

has never been to bed
with a woman in his life.

Hmm. It's all academic, isn't it?

I mean, you're on your seventh
breathtaking masterpiece

and nobody's found out about you yet.

I saw a kid this afternoon, you know,

one of the blokes who
wrote one of these letters.

Well, that's all right.

To him, you're Zippy Grimes.

Yeah, but supposing he'd recognised me.

How?

Well, I've been on TV haven't I?

Twice in the last 18 months.

Yes, but he might've recognised me.

Oh, who's going to remember you from that?

What does it matter anyway?

It matters to me.

I want my private life to remain private.

Writers are supposed to be peculiar.

You don't suffer from
reticence, do you Plasche?

Makes you very difficult to work with.

Well, you asked for my opinion.

Yeah, well I've got it now,

now you can fly off home
on your broomstick, go on.

I don't have to stay here
day after day to be insulted.

Yeah, you stay here year
after year, don't you?

You love it. [chuckles]

Appeals to your masochistic nature.

You're too arrogant for
your own good, Lewis Duncan.

That's what's the matter with your novels,

it's got nothing to do
with you being queer.

What are you talking about, woman?

Honestly, sometimes I think
you weren't born at all,

you were knitted in
some Women's Institute.

[laughs] That was wicked. [laughs]

Wicked.

[engine revs]

[Lewis] Middle class parents

seldom fail to allow sexual deviation

to shatter the fearful
rigidity of their lives.

"Where did we go wrong?" they murmur,

voices, hushed with martyrdom.

"How can we face our friends?"

Thank you so much, goodbye.

Oh, telephones, Mr. Grimes,
do you like telephones?

I can't abide the things myself.

I thought we might talk out here,

away from the wretched machine.

Good idea.

I just can't ignore the noise, I'm afraid,

if I hear it ringing, I have to answer it.

I'm the same.

We might even have our tea out here later.

Lovely.

Do you like women, Mr. Grimes?

Yes. Yes.

My mother was a woman.

I meant socially.

I'm talking about women in
general, you understand,

not just lesbians?

Yes. Yes, well, I like women.

Not all of them, of
course, not unreservedly.

That would be too much to expect.

I also like dogs, and
children too sometimes.

Now you're actually here,

I confess I find myself
rather embarrassed.

It was much easier to write the letter.

You said that you were
worried about your son, Jamie.

I don't really see how you can help.

Well, this may sound trite, Mrs. Cooper,

but sometimes it does help, you know,

to talk to a disinterested party.

When I say disinterested,

I don't exactly mean
disinterested, what I mean is-

A week before I picked up that magazine

and read your article,
Jamie came to see me,

he doesn't live at home now,

and quite calmly announced
that he was a homosexual

and he thought I ought to know

in case I should find out some other way.

Good for him.

I still haven't had the
courage to tell him my parents.

I was glad his father was dead.

He would have been deeply ashamed.

Where you, Mrs. Cooper?

A little.

And I was unhappy for my son,

no one should have to
travel through life alone.

Mrs. Cooper, when one is gay, homosexual,

it doesn't necessarily mean
that you have to be lonely.

I mean, there must be, what,

something like 4 million
homosexuals in this country.

Nobody's going to tell me that they're all

miserable and unhappy.

Can you accept the fact
that your son Jamie

prefers going to bed with
men rather than women,

and stop making him feel guilty about it?

Oh, he doesn't.

I'm the one that feels guilty.

You see, I've always despised homosexuals.

Well, tolerance isn't a
quality that all of us possess.

And then I read your article

and it seemed so sensible
and compassionate.

I felt I had to write.

It seemed almost preordained
that I should see the magazine,

after Jamie's confession.

Your letter told me quite a
lot about you, Mrs. Cooper,

but very little about Jamie.

Are you a religious man, Mr. Grimes?

No.

Oh.

You don't go to church?

Weddings and funerals.

The first time I started
feeling middle-aged, actually,

when I realised I was going to
more funerals than weddings.

Doesn't the church say that it is sinful

to be a homosexual?

I think the church says

that it's a sin to behave like one.

They prefer homosexuals to stay abstinent.

The trouble is of course,

that if a man damps down his sexual drive,

and remains abstinent,

then sooner or later he's
going to get screwed up.

Something's going to snap.

And it's then, willing or unwilling,

that he starts drifting
about in public places,

looking for someone like
himself to have sex with.

The church doesn't go a
bundle on that either.

I know.

You see,

Jamie is a priest.

No, Harry.

Will you just think about it?

No need.

I'm a very persistent man, Lewis,

I usually get what I want in the end.

You sound like an undertaker.

What the hell's the matter with you.

You go on playing so hard to get,

you're likely to become
extinct in your own lifetime.

Look, Harry, you and I have
been friends for a long time.

If we're not careful,

we're going to fall out
rather badly over this,

and I don't want that to happen.

You'll always be close to my heart, petal.

Oh, Harry, look,

I've already seen three
people, for God's sake.

Three, out of all that lot? Jesus!

Look, an MP,

a black male whore, who earns
three times as much as I do,

and a parody of Lady Macbeth,

who's taking us on a pilgrimage to Lourdes

to cure him of his homosexuality.

I don't wanna write
articles about that, Harry.

I'm sorry, I want to
concentrate on my novel.

You disappoint me, Lewis.

[Lewis] Oh, sorry.

That's all, sorry?

Look,

I've had more than enough
of Zippy Grimes, right?

Somebody just turned up at
my office the other day.

Frightened Plasche half to death.

It's not on, Harry.

All right, all right, all right.

Run away to your
menopausal dump in Suffolk.

Surrey.

Bury yourself, for all I care.

Is that what I'm doing, running away?

Well, aren't you?

I thought I was strolling away.

You know what I think?

I think it's very sad, Petal.

You really are angry, aren't you?

It would give me the greatest pleasure

to put a little piece in our next issue

telling our readers exactly
who Zippy Grimes is.

I hope you don't, Harry.

[Harry] Gutless asshole.

[footsteps click]

[Lewis] Oh bloody hell.

Where've you been?

Why haven't you gone home, Plasche?

I missed my train.

You smell like a wine cellar.

Oh, do be quiet, There's a good chap.

[coat stand clatters]

[Cecilia] You're drunk.

Campari.

Somebody hit you over
the head with the bottle?

Oh, very droll, very droll.

Good God,

you've got a dress on.

For a writer, you're remarkably observant.

They say alcohol improves
one's perception.

I've never seen you in a dress before.

So? have I committed a crime?

Well, it looks unreal.

Not to me it doesn't.

Well, where'd you get it?

Jumble sale? [chuckles]

Howard bought it.

Oh, Howard?

The praying mantis.

Oh,

yes.

Prince Charming of Watford Junction.

He gave it to me.

I'm not surprised.

It wouldn't suit him either,
I wouldn't think. [chuckles]

As a present,

a birthday present.

Oh, no, not again.

It's in your diary, you know.

Oh Plasche, I'm sorry.

You've never once remembered.

Not once in seven years.

No, look, I'm sorry.

Look, since you, you
missed your train, right?

I will take you out to dinner.

I'm already going out.

Oh, well then tomorrow.

And, and we'll go to the pictures,

see Sean Connery in 007
and a half, whatever.

Howard is taking me out
tomorrow, and tonight.

Good old Howard.

Like to hear him living
dangerously, right.

Why are you always so snide about him?

I mean, what's he ever done
to you to cause such contempt?

Well, I don't want him to marry you.

Why not?

Well, 'cause you won't be
able to work for me, will you?

Hey, would you?

You must be drunk,

you've never done
anything like that before.

You know, Plasche,

you're a very clever girl, you know that?

Mad, of course, but I like you.

And you have consistency.

That is very therapeutic, consistency.

You are so consistently awful,

then I find you soothing.

Well, if that was supposed
to be a compliment

it got mangled up
somewhere along the line.

Yeah. [groans]

I'll make you some coffee.

Oh, thank you.

Plasche.

I'm sorry that I forgot your birthday.

It's all right.

About time I stopped having them.

I did get you a present, though.

I tied a red bow right round it.

But then I had to take it off,

because I couldn't get my zip up.

Wash your mouth out with soap.

[Lewis giggles]

[Lewis sighs]

[light jazz music]

[doorbell rings]

Gerald!

[Gerald] Panic not, I'm on my way.

[light jazz music]

[doorbell rings]

[Gunnar] Hurry up, Geraldine.

Oh don't fuss, Gunnar,
they aren't royalty.

Are you, uh, Jekyll or Hyde tonight?

I don't recall which is which.

Gerald.

I'll be as sweet as pie.

Ah!

[Richie] Oh, it this where it's at?

[Lewis] Gerald.

[people laugh]

Welcome to our humble abode.

You're a girl, I expect,
you're too pretty to be a boy.

Hello, Gerald, Gunnar, bottle of wine.

Ah, marvellous, I shall
put it in the fridge.

Yet another for the feast.

Wonderful.

My goodness, you've brushed your hair.

This really must be an occasion.

[Gunnar] Prompt as usual.

The only trouble with punctuality

is that people always think
you've got nothing better to do.

[Gunnar] You're looking very well, Lewis.

Trying, trying.

This boy's got a great future
behind him, Lewis. [chuckles]

[Lewis] Ah!

You like it?

[Lewis] Yes I do. I do very
much, it's very good Gunnar.

Who is it?

[men laugh]

very witty.

Well, tonight was supposed
to be an unveiling ceremony,

but it's not quite finished yet.

[Gerald] I, I, I think
the uniform spoils it,

all that phoney masculinity.

Hey, I resent that phoney bit.

Well, if you'll excuse me, duty calls.

Something smells good.

Oh, it's Gerald.

My friend's barely civilised,

but he makes a mean chicken valet.

[Gunnar] Gerald, how about some drinks?

-Good?
-Martini, please.

I'll have the same.

Dry?

Mummified.

It's been one of those days.

Anyway, no-one can afford
to buy a Braque these days.

Except British Rail.

[they all laugh]

Personally, I prefer Mondrian.

Oh, you just can't compare
Braque to Mondrian, Lewis.

Why on earth not?

[Gunnar] Well, Mondrian's
much too clinical.

Perhaps that's why I prefer it?

Lewis is a Virgo.

It shows.

Can't stand Mondrian myself.

Neither can I, it's like
scaffolding. [laughs]

You know, Richie, when
you try to get cultural,

you're really worth your
weight in fairy cakes.

-Ooh!
-Temper, temper.

Or is it pre-menstrual
tension, do you think?

Anyway, I don't think it's morally right

for a company to buy a work of art

and then just shove it away
in a vault for 20 years.

Ah, the innocence of it.

The dear boy's so normal and refreshing.

You make him sound like a mouthwash.

I agree with Richie,

especially as they don't
always go into the vaults.

There's a Utrillo

hanging in Gerald's office right now.

Collecting art and antiques'
a good long term investment.

It's a hedge against inflation.

-Is that true?
-What?

Do you really have a Utrillo
hanging in your office?

Yeah.

Well, I think that's outrageous.

I beg your pardon.

Well, do the shareholders know?

Mind your own business.

Oh, temper, temper.

Or is it pre-menstrual tension?

Cut it out, Lewis.

Yes, please stop it.

You started this.

And now I would like to finish it.

-Hear, hear.
-Since you seem to feel

our ethical standards are
less than healthy, Lewis,

Perhaps you should come in on Monday

and give our art expert some advice.

My dear Gerald, I'm sure there's no need.

I must say I'm surprised you
haven't tried to bribe me,

to keep my mouth shut.

If you kept your mouth shut
more often and your eyes open,

you'll be a much better
writer, heart face.

You'd certainly be more observant.

Wouldn't he, Gunnar?

Well, have we any weight
watchers here tonight?

-No.
-[Richie] My God, Gunnar,

this looks absolutely-

That'll do me.

When do you move?

Oh, a couple of weeks.

They eat their children
I'm told, country people.

Very odd, they are.

Don't laugh, you listen
to your auntie Gerald,

she knows whereof she speaks.

The countryside's full
of psychotic animals.

Prickly things that come out
of the ground and grab at you.

-Mwah!
-Ah!

Gerald thinks that anybody
who lives outside London

is buried alive.

I'm sure you'll look very
fetching in wellies, dear,

plodding about up to your
goolies in chicken poo.

[they all laugh]

Tres Butch.

Can't see you settling in at all.

Why not?

I spent the first 16 years
of my life on a farm.

Heavens!

I mean farms are such slumacky places,

and you're the most
fastidious person I know.

I'll bet he even puts shoe
trees in his bedroom slippers.

Yes, he does.

You really are the ultimate
laxative, you know Gerald.

[Gerald] I've never
quite fathomed you out.

[Lewis] Oh?

There's something about
you that doesn't ring true.

How could anyone so mundane

have written a book like "Chinchilla."

Glad that you're your usual
charming self tonight, Gerald.

No seriously, Lewis,

haven't you ever done
anything really crazy?

I mean something that's not
totally dull and conventional.

I don't see there's anything
wrong in being conventional.

The mediocre don't suffer,
you should know that, Gerald.

Very boring, dear.

Writers have no business being boring.

He once took all his clothes off.

Oh, no.

And walked about outside, naked,

now that's not very conventional.

At night, of course.

[Richie] No, no, no, no.

Tell me, tell me.

I'd rather not.

Go on, Lewis.

Tell us, take no notice of him.

Well, I was 16 at the time,

my parents were away for the day,

hot afternoon.

So I took my clothes off and
I went across the fields.

And I had a swim.

Then I walked back.

There were some men working in the field.

Nobody saw me.

It must've been an extraordinary feeling.

Yes, it was.

Welcome to the human race.

Yes, well, you're right in
that respect, I suppose,

I am conventional,

I've never had the guts to do it again.

Oh, come on Lewis.

You had the guts to write
the Zippy Grimes article.

Gunnar.

Zippy Grimes?

Oh, I'm sorry.

I promised Richie I wouldn't say anything.

Yes, it's a pity someone
else didn't do the same.

What, pray, is everyone talking about?

Lewis wrote the gay article
in this month's "Arbiter."

Really?

Yes, really Gerald.

Now that you know, I suppose
the gossip columnists

will be buzzing around like blowflies.

It doesn't surprise me in the slightest

that you used another name.

Gerald, I wish to be
known as a good novelist,

not a good, gay novelist.

You really think they'll
stop buying your books

because you screw men?

I've spent the last five years of my life

trying to persuade public men
to stand up and be counted.

Well-known people like you,

who could help if only you spoke up.

[Gunnar] Gerald, you are preaching.

Isn't it about time you came
out of the closet, Lewis?

You do know what that means,
I suppose, coming out?

If it means boring the knickers
off everyone, yes I do.

[Gerald] That's cheap, even from you.

I used to admire the militants, you know,

who fought for our rights in public.

And then they got a little
too strident for my liking,

and I started to wince a bit.

And then I began making excuses for them.

Oh, that's really progressive.

[Lewis] You're beginning
to enjoy it too much.

What a model to us all you are.

Why can't men like you
just sit down and shut up?

Why can't you exercise a
little dignity once in a while?

Dignity isn't going to stop blackmail,

and, and, and job discrimination,

and, and queer bashing,
and police harassment.

Gerald, please.

He has it ever occurred to
you that perhaps we deserve

some of the bad things
that happened to us?

Jesus, you're, you're, you're,

you're right to go off to the country.

Look when a straight man goes
to the gents to have a pee,

do you think, honestly think,

that he enjoys being cruised
by some sticky lipped poof?

Of course he doesn't.

What is he supposed to do,

just Pat him on the head
and smile tolerantly?

He's offended, for God's
sake, and I don't blame him,

it offends me.

Oh, go to Surrey, Lewis,

shove your head in the bloody sand.

Oh, come on, this is all very childish.

I agree.

Brandy, Richie?

-Yes, please.
-Lewis?

Yeah.

Get two more glasses, Gerald.

I'm curious about something.

Did you know about Richie and Gunnar

before you wrote that article?

It might explain

your rather disenchanted
view of homosexuals.

Jesus Christ.

You are being very stupid, Gerald.

You are aware of the fact

that you're charming friend
here and our rugged host

are engaged in a
colourful courtship dance?

Just five minutes with you, Gerald,

and I feel scratched all over.

Sit down and shut up.

Oh, but Lewis ought to
know, it's only decent.

Where decency is concerned,

I don't think you have
any points of reference.

Goodnight, Gunnar,

I enjoyed the dinner.

If you take my advice, Lewis-

I'd rather take poison.

[door slams]

[chair creaks]

[footsteps tap]

[brandy splashes]

[glass clinks]

One day, Gerald,

somebody's gonna drive a
stake through your heart.

There's no wood hard enough, ducky.

[keys jangle]

[light switch clicks]

[door thuds]

[light switch clicks]

[water splashes]

[glass thuds]

[light switch clicks]

[light switch clicks]

[footsteps tap]

[running water splashes]

Aren't you over-reacting a bit?

This is ridiculous, Lewis.

Gunnar doesn't mean a thing to me.

I know that, he's just another scalp

to add to your collection.

Well then.

You know, I think I'm
going to try and live alone

for a while.

How long a while?

I don't know.

[toothbrush scratches]

We stay together, we'll only end up like-

What's that?

I said, [spits]

if we stay together,

we'll only end up scratching
each other's eyes out,

like Gunnar and Gerald.

Is that what you want?

[Lewis sighs]

I have a talent for
survival, you know, Rich.

Somehow I've learned how to swim in shit.

I think you're gonna drown in it.

I just want to make absolutely certain

that I don't go down with you.

[footsteps crunch]

If you're queer, you're
queer, and that's it.

You just get on with it,
for better or for worse.

That's what life's about, isn't it?

Carrying on,

coping.

You need good health and a
reason to get up in the morning,

and a sense of humour,

that most of all.

Because let's face it,

you're on your own.

Oh, not all the time.

I mean, every now and then
something nice might crop up,

just to keep you hoping.

It won't last of course,

nothing does when you're queer.

[rain patters]

Door was open.

When you leave, Alan, like right now,

you can close it behind you, can't you?

It's Brian.

What are you doing here, anyway?

My dad's come to see Mr. Lloyd.

Oh, that is all I need.

Where is he now?

Parking the car.

Ah, well, you can tell him
not to bother, can't you?

You a poofter?

You are, ain't you? You and him.

Am I what?

A poofter.

I don't understand the
meaning of the word.

Would you kindly explain?

Queer, are you queer?

Do you mean, am I homosexual?

Yeah.

What business is it of yours, eh?

I don't care if you are.

That's very broad-minded of you.

My dad would, though.

That's very narrow minded of him.

We're told to keep away from
people like you at school.

Very good advice.

It's a pity you didn't take it.

If my dad knew you and
Mr. Lloyd were poofters,

he'd go spare.

Well it's just as well he
doesn't know then, isn't it?

Hmm.

-I could tell him.
-Brian.

Are you trying to blackmail me?

-I don't have to tell him.
-Brian.

[sighs] Get out of here, you little creep.

I hope all your children turn
out to be little poofters.

[Lewis sighs]

I wanna see Lloyd.

My name's Russell, I'm his father.

Mr. Lloyd is out.

It's about his music lessons.

He's been coming here eight months now

and he's no better than
he was when he started.

Perhaps he lacks application.

He lacks a good teacher.

He says Lloyd's hardly
ever here on a Wednesday.

And when he does condescend to turn up,

he's either half cut or he's
got another pupil waiting.

Well, it's not good enough, is it?

I sympathise,

I really do.

I don't want sympathy,

I want action.

We paid out good money to
have him learn the piano.

Yes, well, you'll have to
take that up with Mr. Lloyd,

won't you?

Who're you?

I am his lover.

Eh?

Your father appears to have
been struck dumb, Alan.

What does one pull to make words come out?

You're a poof?

[Lewis] You've won the washing machine.

What, Lloyd and all?

Oh, you're going to go
for the freezer too, eh?

Yes, we are spreading like greenflies.

You won't have to wait
long, Mr. Russell, goodbye.

Here, just a bloody minute.

Somebody oughta know about you.

Bloody perverts teaching kids?

Yes, well you'll have to take that up

with the other bloody pervert, won't you?

I'll sort him out all right,

You and all.

Jesus.

Couple of bloody iron poofs.

It's criminal.

Why don't you have a
look at this magazine,

while you're waiting, hmm.

Bloody poofs.

Bloody poofs.

You're going up the doctors tomorrow.

I'm hungry.

Oh, shut up.

Or, better still, go and
practise your bloody scales.

Well, go on.

Jesus.

Bloody poofs [gags]

[raindrops patter]

[phone rings]

[phone cradle clatters]

[gentle music]

[Gerald] Oh, go to Surrey,
Lewis, shove your head

-in the bloody sand.
-Run away

to your menopausal dump in Suffolk.

Dropping out?

[Gerald] Isn't it about time

you came out of the closet, Lewis?

[Harry] Come out of that closet, Lewis,

gutless asshole.

[Gunnar] Oh, come on, Lewis,

you have the guts to write
the Zippy Grimes articles.

[Ceclia] Then why didn't you have the guts

to put your own name to it?

[kettle thuds]

[Gerald] Writers have no
business being boring.

[Letter Writer] The thing is, Zippy,

I killed this man, see.

[Mrs Cooper] And then I
read your article and-

[Letter Writer] He was queer, like you.

[Mrs Cooper] It seemed so
sensible and compassionate.

[Gerald] You do know what that means,

I suppose, coming out?

[Richie] he once

-took all his clothes off.
-Never had the guts

-to do it again
-And walked about outside

naked, now that's not very conventional.

[Cecila] I mean, what does it
all matter nowadays anyway?

[typewriter clatters]

[Harry] Give me the greatest of pleasure

to put a little piece in our next issue,

telling our leaders exactly
who Zippy Grimes is.

[typewriter clatters]

[upbeat music]