Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares (2004–2014): Season 1, Episode 1 - Bonapartes - full transcript

Very strong language from the outset.

'Bonapartes restaurant
is in dire straits.'

'New owner Sue Ray
has sunk everything into it.'

It's frustrating the hell out of me.

'The customers
are nowhere to be seen.'

How many's booked? >

None, Gordon.

Chances of walk-ins? >

Slim.

'They're down to two staff
and the money has nearly run out.'

'I'm going in
to identify the problems.'



'I'll find out
if the market's there.'

How much would you pay for that?

You wouldn't want to pay a lot!

'If the team are pulling together.'

You can't even take a penalty!

'If the head chef is clued up.'

You're taking the piss, you,
you know that?

'I've got one week to turn this
restaurant into a viable business.'

The honeymoon's over.

'Next to its posh neighbours
Ilkley and Skipton sits Silsden,

a working-class town yet to make its
mark on the culinary map of Britain.'

Lots of, erm, fish bars, cafes.

A quaint little place,
small Yorkshire town.

'Bonapartes wine bar and restaurant



was taken over by its current owner
a year ago.'

'In her time,
Sue Ray has sold everything,

from donkey rides
to cavity-wall insulation.'

'But the restaurant business is new
to her and the locals aren't biting.'

Good afternoon. Sue?

It is, yes. Pleased to meet you.

Likewise. How's it going?

Bit quieter today.

How many did you have in for lunch?

About two. That's it.

And last night?

Last night I think
we did only two again. That's all.

Two customers the whole night?

Yeah. Unfortunately.

It's just died an absolute death.

'Two thirds of restaurants don't
survive past their first birthday.'

'As things stand, Sue's in danger
of adding to those statistics.'

'As a last resort she's placed all
her trust in a 21-year-old head chef'

'They believe that fine dining will
guarantee Bonapartes a bright future'

It's like being an artist.
You create something from nothing.
That's why I love being a chef.

'From washing dishes five years ago,
Tim has had a meteoric rise.'

I would like a couple
of restaurants, maybe three.

Be in Leeds, London, New York,
you know, big cities.

That's my main ambition,
and to make a lot of money.

'His dream is to be a TV chef.'

Have you put parmesan through this?

'For now, he's embracing his first
opportunity to run his own kitchen.'

And how did you find Tim?

He found me. I was struggling
with chefs and he's very ambitious.

He must be fucking good
if he's a head chef at 21.
Or a fucking good bullshitter.

It's a pleasure to meet you, sir.

Likewise. And?

It is a pleasure. Lee.

So you're the head chef?

Yeah. >

And you're the...
Well, obviously the second chef.

Busy lunch?

No. Absolutely not, no-one.

< I didn't think so,
with you twiddling your thumbs.

'Sue's food takings
are a dismal £200 a week.'

'She should be making ten times that

but she's not covering Tim's wages,
let alone food costs and overheads.'

I'll never know how good they are

unless there's any customers
in the fucking restaurant.

Tim, how many's booked?

None, Gordon.

Chances of walk-ins, perhaps?

Slim.

I want to see you under pressure.

It's five to six.

I want you to knock on a few doors
and invite some locals to dinner.

Fuck off for some customers.

'If customers won't come in of their
own free will, these young chefs
will have to drag them in.'

We'd like to invite you
for a free meal...

'Fine dining requires the ultimate
in presentation and service.'

We've just had one, thank you.

'And, most of all, faultless food.'

'We just need
the people coming in now.'

It's like a big cake.
You've got all the ingredients,
you just need the right consistency.

You'll go?
I'll see you there. Cheers.

'The reputation can't be that great.'

'Even with free food on offer,
they've only pulled in 11 guests.'

'For any head chef,
this would be a walk in the park.'

First order, two pigeon,
main course, one venison, one brill.

OK, no problem.

Where do the tickets go?

I just put them there cos we never
get enough to worry about it.

Fuck me, that's nice(!)

Who's doing the fish?

I'll do the fish.

What would you like to do?

I'll do... venison.

How do you organise?
"Lee, do hot starters, I'll do cold.
You do the fish, I'll do the meat."

Lee'll stand here, I'll do this one,
and when I'm not doing anything
I'll jump on and help him out.

Do you know how to organise?

Within reason.

Where did you put t'red board, Lee? >

'Now I can really see
what's going on in the kitchen.'

CRASHING

What was that?

I just trashed a load of bowls.

I think we'd better
send the bread first.

'Never mind fine dining.
They can't get the bread right.'

It's frozen. Get it in the oven.

Are the pigeons ready? >

Yes.

We're about to put them in the bin
because the bread's frozen
and the pigeons are cooked.

If you toss that fucking cabbage once
more I'll ram it up your arse, OK?

Every time you turn round, it's...
Let's go.

'You should get starters out within
ten minutes of receiving the order.'

Thank you very much.

'These poor souls waited half an hour
for their pigeon breast
with mushroom ravioli.'

'That's not the only problem.'

Tim, you made the ravioli, yeah?

Yes.

It's burnt. Do you not taste that? >

No.

Smell it, then.

You honestly can't taste that burn?

Now you point it out, yeah.

Get that shit in the bin.

'This is really worrying. A head chef
who can't taste his own food's burnt'

'He's not gonna win any prizes for
his control of the kitchen either.'

I need an egg for...

BLEEPING

Can you hear that? >

That's the veg in the microwave that
should have gone with the main course
four minutes ago. >

Come on, Tim,
get the fucking things out.

'For some,
an hour's wait is just too much.'

'Sue has got her hands full
running the bar upstairs

and seems blissfully unaware of the
farce taking place in the basement.'

< The kitchen's a disaster.

The blind leading the blind,
the left arm not knowing
what the right arm's doing.

You want 50 or 60 seats filled

and they've got 11 customers in,
for dinner, and they're
up to their eyeballs in shit.

'I mean, real shit.'

'Everything's going in these cutters'

'They think that rings is the sort
of ultimate fine-dining experience

but I don't know what's going on.'

All I know is I'm not making money,
so I don't know what they're at.

'But it's Sue's business
and she should be in charge.'

Look at the fucking mess here.

I've never seen such hard work
for 11 guests. >

It doesn't make you feel good,
does it? >

< No, not really.

'I've got just one week to make
a constructive impact on Bonapartes.'

'But by day two I'm clutching at
straws to find positives to build on'

'Sue has clearly lost control.'

'The kitchen's such a tip
it's a health hazard.'

'Worst of all, the head chef and
his mate just aren't up to scratch.
I must be missing something.'

Erm, gentlemen.

Tim, signature dish.

Scallops.

Can't wait to see it.

'Nearly every successful restaurant
has a dish that it's renowned for.'

'I'm hoping that, by cooking his,

Tim will produce something worthy
of a place on a fine-dining menu.'

That's your signature dish, which is?

Scallops with deep-fried Parma ham,
black pudding and sauce hollandaise.

'Certainly looks OK.'

What do you think?

Mm.

(LAUGHS) He's going to be sick.

(SPLUTTERS)

'He's only gone and given me
a rancid scallop.'

(SPITS)

Well, someone get him a drink.

Fucking shit.

How can you eat that? If you knew
they were off, why didn't you say?

No, I didn't know they were off.

They're fucking mingin'.

Do you not taste that?

I do now, yeah. Took a while.

(VOMITS)

I know what he means,
I feel sick meself now.

It's, erm... It's grim.

It's fucking grim.
And it's out of order.

I didn't realise
they were fucking off.

So... I suppose
it's my fault really.

That could kill someone.

That's the bottom line.

(Fuck's sake.)

'In the last two days I've witnessed
total incompetence in the kitchen,

total lack of direction from the
management, and last but not least -

they tried to kill me
with a rotten scallop.'

What the fuck are you playing at?

Sorry, chef.

It's not about being fucking sorry.

You shouldn't be in a fucking kitchen
if you don't know that.

This is basic fucking cooking.

'I need to check if there's any more
surprises lurking in Tim's kitchen.'

Let's have a look in here.
When are they from?

Saturday.

Saturday. Did you use them today?

No.

So what the fuck
they doing in the fridge?

It looks like rabbit shit.

That's some lentils.

This one's stuck to the fucking glass

It looks like sheep's turd
infested with ants.

We've got fucking fur on
fucking potatoes. When is that from?

Couldn't tell you.

What are we doing with them?

Throw them in bin. Throw them in bin

But keep them in the fridge for two
days before you throw them in bin?

Um...

Do you see what I'm trying to get at?

Yeah.

Does it make fucking sense?

No.

So all this fucking food,
you're jam-packed with shit

and we're here saying
(IMITATES ACCENT) "Put in t'bin".
Well, get them in the fucking bin.

'This kitchen is disgustingly filthy'

'In allowing things to fester
Tim's putting Sue's business at risk'

Fucking hell, can we get that one
cleaned out as well?

'One bad thing contaminates a whole
fridge. It's chucking money away.'

'A health inspector
would have a field day.'

Do you know what?
I'm fucking gobsmacked.

I've got a good fucking mind to
get hold of fucking Sue and tell her
to fucking close the place.

You should be ashamed.

I've never seen anything like this
in my entire fucking life.

Because this is
a fucking embarrassment to catering.

Let alone fucking
ringed-out fine dining.

Let's move, eh?

Not the best start
it could have been, were it?

Fucking...
It's all right. I'll sort it out.

'The picture is painfully clear.'

'Tim's completely unqualified
to do this job.'

'He's blagged his way in and Sue's
been naive enough to take him on.'

When you do put so much like
hard work into creating stuff

and then you don't use it
then you get bored.

Like footballers playing with
no football, they just run around.

Sit on their arses after a while
won't they?

All this ingredients in there
and no customers to send it to.

None of them communicate with each
other - "That's gotta go tomorrow",

"Can we turn that into fish pie?
But no, the blind leading the blind.

And every bloody ingredient
in that fridge is money, your money.

'Sue has no idea what's going on
in her own kitchen.'

'The key to any successful restaurant

is regular communication between
management and the head chef.'

'I need to get these two talking.'

Gordon's had a word with me.
He said he's not impressed.

We need to keep the place clean
and tidy otherwise I can be sued,

in which case I'm out of business
and you're out of a job.

I realise that.

I know and I've taken it,
I have to take it on board as well.

She had to stick her oar in.

She weren't going to say "I told you
so" but that's what she were doing.

Fair enough, she has a dig, so what?
Fuck her.

'Relations between Tim and Sue
clearly aren't healthy.'

Lee?

Yeah?

Goggles, gloves.

Before we do any fucking cooking
in here I want the place spotless.

Goggles on, please. That's it,
show me, you handsome bastard.

'It's not just the kitchen at fault.'

'Any restaurateur knows it's stupid
to attempt fine dining in a basement

let alone one beneath a busy bar.'

'Sue's panic is obvious -

the weird mix of fine-dining menus
and scrappy handwritten boards

advertising TV-name cabarets.'

'Bonapartes' image has clearly
confused potential customers.'

She was trying to do too many
things, be all things to all people.

So she was trying to have, you know,
live music and have an Internet cafe

And er... also the impression
you got when you came in

was she'd be shuffling around
in leggings and slippers.

'She won't attract the people
she wants to attract.'

It's not as nice as the one
that's opened across the road.

'The new competition 200 yards away
has been fully booked since opening,

so the punters
are definitely out there.'

'Time to find a new identity for
Bonapartes and make a clean start.'

'Valentine's night
is just four days away.'

'It's one of the most important
nights in the restaurant calendar

and can make or break a new venture.'

'If we're going to reinvent
Bonapartes, we've got to do it now.'

'Will Sue accept the drastic change
of direction I'm about to propose?'

It's clearly not going to work
as a fine-dining experience.

Does Tim know how much pressure
you're under financially?

I say flippantly "I'll end up
bankrupt if you're not careful."

He doesn't realise how true it is.

How close are you in real terms?

In real terms, probably...

I've got probably three months...

maximum.

Jesus.

I'm willing to take constructive
criticism. It's not working -

otherwise we'd have more people in.

The basics are wrong. The basics are
so so wrong and it's embarrassing.

It's got to go back to
comfort rustic easy-going food,

become more of a bistro -
because the place oozes that style.

'I know Sue's convinced

but to flush out Tim's pretensions
to fine dining once and for all,

I need evidence
he can't fail to take on board.'

Gentlemen.

This is seared scallops
with baby black pudding,

hollandaise cayenne-pepper sauce,
and deep-fried Parma ham.

It looks like potato.

First time you've had a scallop?

Mmm.

And this is a beef and ale pie.

I'll have a bit of pastry.

I'm a pastry man.

Tasty?

Lovely.

Yeah?

Beautiful.

How you much would you pay for
the scallops, black pudding and ham?

You wouldn't want to pay a lot.

Well, scallops are dear anyway
aren't they? Eight-fifty?

What for one portion?!

What would you pay for the pie?

About eight pound.

About eight pound. Seven ninety-five.

Oh, I weren't far off then.

And eight ninety-five, well done.

Which one do you prefer?

Well, I like the pie personally.

I like the meat.
I'm definitely a meat lover.

Thank you, gentlemen.

One nil, you fucker.

'Tim needs to learn
a few basic restaurant rules.'

'If you don't know your market
you won't get bums on seats.'

I would probably go with this one.

Two fucking nil. Next, please.

Have you got two seconds?

'Here's another one. A restaurant
without customers will go bust.'

I don't like scallops.

You don't like scallops.
Three-nil, you twat.

Excuse me...

'Tim needs to start producing food

that people of Silsden
won't be able to resist.'

That is gorgeous, yeah.

I would pay that for that, not that.

You wouldn't pay £8.95 for that?

In the major cities, I'd expect to,
but not in Yorkshire.

But that is very reasonable
and delicious.

Are you listening?

I am listening.

Bistro?

That's where we're going.

Fine dining?

(LAUGHS)

Who's going in for it?

QUACK

It's not bad news.
It's fucking good news.

Great news.

The writing is on the wall.

She's come to the end of her tether.
That's pretty obvious that...

She's had enough. Is that clear?

That is clear, yeah. >

And you're fucking cocky with her.

Yeah.

She pays your fucking salary. Are
you mad? How much have you put in?

Nothing.

Yeah, not a fucking penny. But
you've taken from her, haven't you?

Yes.

So now it's time to give back.

Absolutely, definitely.

And not cooking for egos. Get rid of
it. (KNOCKS TABLE) Back to basics.

To confirm that you two
do know the basics -

both at the same time
cook me a fucking omelette.

Show me something that I can eat
and be happy with.

'An omelette is probably one of
the first things you learn to cook
at catering college.'

When was the last time
you cooked an omelette?

I ain't cooked one before. I've
never cooked an omelette before.

Oh, don't be stupid.

I haven't.

Look inside. What does that tell you?

Um... Slightly over-cooked.

Slightly?
It tastes like fucking rubber.

Both over-cooked.
That was shit by any standard.

You're a head chef.

You're taking the piss, you,
you know that?

You are taking the piss,
you know that?

Yes, Gordon.

Gives you nothing back.

The whole idea of telling him off
is to help train him and educate him

but clearly
not used to being told what to do.

Right. Make me another omelette.
Fuck it. Let's go.

'Any chef worth his salt

should be able to source good-quality
ingredients at a good price.'

'Locals already think Bonapartes is
too dear. They want value for money.'

'For Sue to start making a profit

Tim needs to be clever
about what he buys.'

Two bacon sandwiches, please,
and two cups of tea.

'He needs to wake up
to the real world.'

'He's clearly in need of inspiration
for his new bistro-style menu.'

Thanks, darling.

That's your one that one. Don't spill
it on those new trainers, will you?

No, I'll try not to.

The Chinese tongues.

Tonight we've got a table of four in.

I want you to buy a starter,
main course and pudding.

Twenty quid. Five quid per head.

I want to see how clever
you are with that money.

Right.

Grapes, bananas, apples or pears!

Morning.

Morning, good morning love.

I'm making French onion soup.

Right, we're making
French onion soup today

so we're looking for
some sort of like rustic baguettes.

All we do is this baguette here.

Ask to look at one.

Can I have a look at that?

'Clearly Tim's never bought anything
from a market before in his life.'

Discount for the trade?

Any discount for the trade?

Any discount, what, a pound?
You're joking, mate!

It's always worth bargaining.

On the phone to your supplier,
you can always bargain with them.

I bet you don't treat Sue's money
this way, do you?

I will do from now on.

Fucking right you will.

'Tim's menus are packed
with expensive fish and meat cuts.'

'He needs to open his eyes to
the tasty less-expensive options.'

What's that next to the pig's head?
What is that there?

Um...

That's ox tail. Ox tail.

You ever used ox tail before?

No.

What do you do with braising steak?

I don't know really, maybe barbecue,
be nice on a barbecue...

Braising steak
means fucking braising.

So it's telling you what to do with
it, so what would you do with it?

Braise it.

Not put it on the fucking barbecue.

Looking for some chicken breasts.

Some nice chicken breasts, boss.

Look, he's showing you.

That's nice.

Check it.

Let's have a look.

How much is it?!

How much is chicken per breast?

One pound twelve there.

It's less than from my butcher.

Is it? Your butcher's more expensive?

Yeah.

Jesus.

Four, please. Discount for trade?

Discount for trade, how much was it?

Four pound twelve.

Four pound.

'That's my boy.'

That'll do for me, cheers.
Can I have a receipt?

With VAT.

With VAT.

You'd come again, yeah?

Absolutely.

The more they see you the more banter
you have, the more bargains you get

and the cheaper it becomes.

Yeah, yeah. I'll definitely be back.

Then the restaurant starts to make
a bit of fucking money.

Yeah.

Do you get the picture?

Yeah, I get it.

Thank fuck for that.

How much have we spent?

Just over twelve quid.

Fantastic, for four portions?

Brilliant.

Soup costs 75p to make a portion.

How much does it go on the menu for?

Times it by four. 2.95 for a bowl
of soup and we made money on that.

And we're not going
to waste anything. We waste nothing.

'With the Valentine's extravaganza
two days away

I'm under no illusions
as to what we're up against.'

Fucking limp dick in the kitchen.

You're fucking 21 for God's sake!

You should be getting fucking twelve
hard ons a day, not one a month!

'Lee's got some nous. But I've got to
hold Tim's hand every step of the way

Are you sure you want to be a chef?

Yes.

You are? In right into the centre.

'This is our chance to see if Tim can
cope with his new bistro-style food.'

Bring the knife out, back in
and bring it to the edge.

Yeah? Gently, gently, gently, gently.

Make love to it, don't fuck it.

Outside leaves, what do you do
with them? Throw them away?

Yeah.

'Before we let him loose
on paying customers

I've asked him to cook for four
special people in their own home.'

'I haven't told him it's his family.'

Do you like stir it into it...?

No, you leave it dangling on top...

Of course you let it
fucking stir inside.

Soup, chicken, lemon meringue pie.

Yeah.

Let's surprise Mum and Dad, shall we?

Let's go to their house
and you cook their tea.

Yeah?

Have you got a sauce
for the chicken Kiev?

Um, I don't really...

I'm asking you.

I don't think so.

Good. Because...

The centre is the sauce.

The garlic sauce in the centre.

Oh, fucking hell, hallelujah,
right we don't need a jus.

We don't need any jus.

KNOCK

Hello, Madge, how are you? Surprise!

'I hate to use Tim's folks
as guinea pigs

but with the meal already prepared,
Tim just needs to reheat the soup,
and cook the Kievs.'

Shall we get cracking,
where's Grandad?

Grandad's in the front room.

'This should be a walkover,
even for him.'

I'm going to leave it all to you.

Ow! Nearly broke me shoulder!

He was always in the kitchen
as a boy wanting to help bake.

Because he loves talking about it.

Yes.

Then he decided at school
that's what he wanted to do

and he got a job in a kitchen.

Said he was going to be
a chef and he was off to the
Good Food Show to meet Gary Rhodes.

Fantastic. And look what's happened.

Yeah.

FIRE ALARM

Fuck me, what's that? Don't burn it.

Don't burn it?

ALARM OFF

(SIGHS)

Sorry to keep you waiting.

That's quite all right.

He's ready.

'Let's not forget,
Tim is a head chef.'

COUGHING

Fucking hell!

You haven't burnt my pans, have you?

I might have done.

Last thing I said to him
"Don't forget your croutons!"

He's managed to fuck them as well
and burn his gran's house.

Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh.

Ladies first.
This is some French onion soup.

Thank you, love.

'Minus the croutons.'

What we going to do
with this numbfuck?

Oh, look at that, superb.

'Torched on the outside
and pink in the middle.'

'As for the lemon meringue pie,

he'd get a better reception
if he threw it at them.'

'Tim's family
wouldn't dream of criticising him,

but the customers on Valentine's
night won't be as forgiving.'

We've got 44
booked for Saturday night.

Mm-hm.

And you fucked it for four.
What chance have you got for 44?

I'm now starting to shit myself.

'It's my fourth day at Bonapartes.'

'Tim's attempt at a simplified bistro
meal may have impressed his granny

but we both know the awful truth
it was a spectacular flop.'

You're paid as a head chef,
aren't you?

Yeah.

Do you think you should be
a head chef?

Not really.

Thank fuck for that.

Don't start crying.

I'm not.

You look as if you're about
to fucking bubble.

< OK, so you're delighted, are you?

'Bookings for tomorrow's
Valentine cabaret are piling in.'

'With the restaurant booked to
capacity I'm trying to stay positive'

'But with just a day to go

it will take more than high-energy
drinks for these two to pull it off'

When someone's been told off,
you have to come back at a 100mph.

This guy disintegrates
every time you tell him something,

and loses all sense of concentration,
that short span that he has.

< Why don't we swap roles tomorrow,

you become sous chef
and Lee becomes the head chef?

No answer.

Whatever you want to do Gordon.

< But it's your fucking kitchen!

You're supposed to say
"Bollocks, no, I'm the fucking chef."

"My name's Tim Grey,
it's me on the menu." No?

Yes or no?

Yes.

< Oh, Jesus.

'Maybe I should try
the softly, softly approach.'

Saturday is a big night,
it's the first time since
you've been here that it's full.

You're not shafting me as well,
We'll work together.

Over the next 15 minutes

I want you both to think
of something really simple menu-wise,

three starters, three main courses,
three puddings.

What do you think Lee, soup?

< Er, yeah soup.

'By passing decision-making to Tim
I hope to build his confidence
and install pride in his food.'

It's hard to write a simple menu

when you've had your head up your
arse trying to make fancy silly food

That's what we're going for.

'So what have they come up with?'

Main courses:
liver and onions, mashed potato,

macaroni cheese, fish and chips,
mushy peas, Lancashire hot pot.

Lancashire hot pot sounds nice.

You came up with the ideas together?

Yeah, we just flicked through books

and thought what's simple and
basic food, what we had at school.

And not forgetting, where are we?

In Silsden in Yorkshire.

(HUMS)

We're getting there!
We're getting there!

'In devising a new menu,
I'm aiming to take the pressure
off Tim and Lee during service.'

'90% of the food can be prepared
and perfected a day in advance.'

Show me you can handle
two pans at once.

'As long as it's made well, it can't
fail to be a hit with the customers.

There should be 15 things going on
co-ordination, understanding,

is is pink, is it well done,
onions...

'In short, Bonapartes new bistro
menu is designed to be idiot proof.'

It will identify them as vegetarians,
yeah? That's good, come on!

'Tim's attitude towards Sue
has been that of a stroppy teenager

rather than a respectful employee.'

We're going to go on tomato soup,
rustic tomato soup
with some little cheese things.

'That's a first, he's come to me.
I run down and chase all the time.'

I need this, "Oh yeah,
it'll come later." I need it now.

You just put them through
with some butter, crush them up.

I don't know what he's been doing
to him but he's certainly improving!

'In the week I've been here

I've hardly seen Tim or Lee
sample or season anything.'

'No wonder their tasteless food
fails to woo the customers.'

Everything we do in this kitchen
has to be tasted.

I don't care if it s a fucking
bread roll or a lemon meringue pie,

you have got to start tasting things.

'From now on bland is off the menu.'

'To teach them a lesson they'll never
forget I resort to dirty tactics.'

You know what a medium steak
tastes like, yes?

Does that taste like a sirloin,

T-bone steak, or is it a rump steak?

Sirloin.

Sirloin.

It tastes like sirloin. >

'Now for the pork.'

Open up. OK? Tell me whether
that's medium or is that well done?

Medium.

< And?

Well done.

None of you got that right. Yes?

Pork?

Pork and fucking lamb, fucking hell!

You don't, you don't realise until
someone blindfolds you and feeds you

that your palette's so...

non-active.

Could have been worse.
Could have been chicken.

Then we would have looked like
fucking idiots!

Oh, shit!

Sorry.

'Tim's had a week of grief from me.'

Whip, whip, whip, whip!
Put the bowl down!

'This boy
has really tested my patience.'

How do we know they're ready now?

You can lift them upside down.

'And I really don't know
if any of it's sunk in.'

I'd love to get it and put it on!

Go on.

LAUGHTER

'But with more than forty guests
expected in two hours' time,

he'll soon be tested to his limits.'

I slipped!

Don't tell me, it was the mud!

It was the mud!

Can't even take a fucking penalty!

'Tim's no quitter
and I don't want to see him fail

but he's got to prove
he's master of his own kitchen.'

We re not leaving this as a draw,
you know that?

In cooking nobody draws, ever.

'One thing's for sure:
tonight he'll either sink or swim.'

Oh, yeee-es!

Whoo!

Another two upstairs?

Possibly. OK, good news,
another two, so we're up to 48.

'Sue's never had so many bookings.'

'She's moving furniture out
to fit more tables in.'

Are you happy with that?

Chicken Kiev with vine tomatoes,
T-bone steak with home-made chips.

Because there's so many,
I wouldn't stall them upstairs
for too long, you'll dump us in it.

Prawn cocktail, green bean salad.

What do you think?

Ooh, very bistro, I like it.

'I hardly dare say it
but this place has got a real buzz.

One thing missing. What would
you like on all your menus?

Oh, his name's not on it.

Ah, bingo!

Where shall we put that?

I don't want my name on it.

We work as a team, it's a joint
effort and bistro, that's it.

That's the most sensible thing
you've said to me all fucking week.

< Thank you.

'Every decent restaurant in the
country is full on Valentine's night'

'The competition
is packed to the rafters.'

'And for once, so is Bonapartes.'

'In a small town,
business thrives on word of mouth.'

'If tonight's a disaster,
it could break Sue.'

I have got a fear that he will not
be able to cope with the numbers.

Especially when he's saying that
eleven's busy. I don t think so.

So we'll see what he's made of.

'Tim has got to get this right.'

Right, two for upstairs,
two soups, two chicken.

OK. Six o clock, first order's in.

Hello, Chef?

Yes.

I might as well give it to Scott.
Scott first order in.

Are we going to let the kitchen
porter call out the tickets?

On order two soup, two chicken,
one creme brulee, one treacle tart.

Soup's made, get it on to boil.

Scott put some water in it, please.

What's that burning?

< It's on the grill thing.

It's not the croutons?

< No it's not the croutons.

Don't burn the croutons. >

I'm not burning the croutons.

The soup's on?
Pan on for the chicken? >

Not yet. >

Put the pan on first, and as they're
eating soup, the chicken is cooking.

Are you all right, yeah?

Yeah, I'm fine.

First order in.

The pan's not on for the chicken.

Don't burn the croutons. >

< Right, how long for that soup?

Five past.

45 seconds. >

Oh, fuck off, will you? What the fuck
are you doing? Out the way.

Young man, what are you doing?

Slow down, talk to him.

Lee can you send the two soup,
please?

All right. >

Look at the croutons!

Charcoal again!

Oh, God,
it's the first fucking order!

What's the matter?

Nothing.

You're cooking like an absolute twat.

Just take your time, big deep breath
and talk to Lee a little bit.

You're on your own, spinning round,
and just creating a fucking bedlam.

Calm down, get yourself organised
and control yourself.

Now, fucking come back to me
a little bit, come back to me a bit.

(LAUGHS) I'm back, fucking...

'Come on, Timmy, fresh start or we're
going down like a sack of shit.'

That's better, Lee, look at him. Hey,
nice and bright. Give us a smile.

It's well done, isn't it?

Yes.

Come on.

Teamwork. >

Two minutes for some veg, Lee.

Scotty, can I have two ovals
out of there, please?

On order:
three prawn cocktail one soup,

one sirloin medium, one T-bone
medium, one sirloin medium.

Don't rush the starters,
we've got a lot of stuff to get on.

Good. Communicating. Good.

Scotty, as soon as you get some
small ramekins, I need them.

How long for veg, one and half?

On order: one prawns, one beans,

one Kiev, one sirloin well done,
one lemon, one brulee.

Scotty 2 Hotty,
can I have two ovals, please?

That's it, you're talking
to the whole brigade now.

You're talking to the team,
which is fantastic, keep it going.

I don't want to hear you stop talking

We're going to go down, yeah?

Not quite right
but at least it's moving.

Medium with salad,
medium without salad
and that's a rare without salad.

< Keep it together, yeah?

Yeah.

< Let's not get nervy.

The food was, was excellent,
yeah, very enjoyable.

It's what we expected to have,
really tasty and really enjoyable.

How many more to come, please, Sue?

There's another four. I overbooked.

The local competition has 46 booked.
We do this four, we've beaten them.

Does that not just lift the morale?

T-bone medium, medium,
medium, medium and a chicken.

Ladies and gentlemen, show time.

I'd like to introduce Tom Sawyer.

After prawn cocktail, get some
hollandaise on. Call service, Scotty.

Take it away.

APPLAUSE

One T-bone steak medium
and one chicken Kiev, please.

And that's all going to table...
twelve. >

Take these two first, please.

# I did all that

# And may I say

# Not in a shy way

Watch the colour. When it's brown
it's cooked when it's black it's...

Fucked.

# I did it my way

# For what is a man

Watch the pastry, please.

Pies.

Veg first, veg first. >

# If not himself, then he has nought

# To doubt the words he feels

Two sirloin medium.

We're not finished but well done.

'Tim's grandparents are celebrating
their 44th wedding anniversary.'

'At last Tim can repay them
for the rubbish he served up before

with a delicious well-cooked meal.'

It was lovely, that steak,
it was beautiful, Tim.

Glad you liked it. >

It brought back memories,
that T-bone steak.

Did it? Did you hear what Grandad
said? Brought back memories.

APPLAUSE

You really surprised me

and I'm really seriously over
the moon that you didn't fuck it.

The first 15 minutes at six o'clock

you acted like
the biggest twat in Britain.

You pulled it back together.
And that wasn't me, that was you.

The feedback from them has been
brilliant. What does that tell you?

I haven't had a service like that
for a long time.

These stupid illusions of grandeur,

this stupid fine dining crap
you're trying to do.

It's gone.

Do you understand
exactly where you are now?

Yeah, I totally understand.

What you're capable of
within this restaurant?

Stop trying to take it beyond
something it's never gonna be,

you'll fuck the restaurant
and yourself.

Never forget tonight.

# You know when that shark bites

# With his teeth, dear

'Tonight, Sue's takings
are a record £2,000.'

# Fancy gloves, though

I thought the guys did brilliantly.

It's up to you not to allow it
to go back to where it was.

I've been too soft.

Yeah, exactly.

I'm glad you're saying it,
that's what I was going to say next.

And I've also...

allowed him
to have his head too much.

I also think you've been confused
as to what you want.

Because you haven't been focused
on one direction for the restaurant.

You've been... jumping.

< Trying out things, I agree.

That's part of a panic, it's wrong.

Tonight, it's evident
what you need to do from now on.

If he changes anything,
I'll pickle his nuts.

'When I arrived at Bonapartes a month
ago, it literally had no customers.'

'Head chef Tim Gray was a liability.'

(VOMITS)

I didn't realise
they were fucking off.

'He couldn't even cook an omelette.'

You're taking the piss, you.

'In one gruelling week,
we transformed Bonapartes

from a failing fine-dining restaurant
into a buzzing bistro,

with Tim sending out quality food
to nearly 50 contented customers
on Valentine's night.'

Hallelujah!

'But since I left Sue's given Tim two
written warnings over his attitude.'

'Now I'm back, unannounced,
to find out what is going on.'

# ELECTRO-FUNK

Turn that fucking thing off. My God.

What's going on?

Chilling.

Chilling? It's Friday, it's 7.30,
how many's booked? >

Four.

And you've got the music blaring.

Where's Lee?

He's upstairs on t'bar.

What the fuck is that in there?

< Mussels.

You're not serving them, are you?

< Yeah.

What are the fridges like?

My God almighty.
What is that shit in there?

(EXHALES)

That is mould and fur.

So you haven't changed. >

Oh, fucking hell.

'A whole week drumming it into their
thick skulls, and it comes to this.'

Holy fuck!

< This is a living fucking nightmare!

'Nobody here is taking control.'

'A health inspector would close
them down without a second thought.'

Sue, it's part of your responsibility
and this is your gaff.

There you go.

Should not be in. >

You didn't see this, Sue?

No, I didn't actually. >

In fairness to Tim, he was doing OK
for the first three days,
and then it went...

This is not right. This is fucking
miles away, this is a nightmare.

It's more loss on top of more loss
and more loss and more mould.

You need to touch that,
rub your finger on that,
go to a chip, season something,

put your finger in the tomato soup,
and they're all fucked.

You've contaminated the whole place,
and that's what worries me.

This kitchen is not fit to cook
a fucking thing in, right now.

And that's your problem. >

(OK.)

SUE: I think I'd better just close.

Put "due to refurbishment".

And you should bow out gracefully,
you know that? >

Just been giving him
another chance and another chance,

but I can't tolerate that, it will
end up... It's professional suicide.

'He's conned me, simple as that.'

I don't think he did it
deliberately, I just think
he lives in a Walter Mitty world.

I'm beginning to think
that he just convinces himself.

To go from...

Valentine's Day evening
to this is...

it's not even funny,
there's just summat wrong with it.

Valentine's Day were good.

I don't think I've gone home to bed
feeling in a happier state of mind,

and tonight I don't think
I could go to bed in a worse one.

It's beyond recognition really,
innit, how fucking stupid that...

someone can be, know what I mean?

It's dog wank.

WOMAN: And who is that someone? >

Oh, that would be me.

Pretty much.

Yeah.

Well, the bar's busy,
that is one saving grace.

But thank God she closed that kitchen
because it was fucking disgusting.

I mean, really appallingly bad.

Shockingly bad.

'If you'd let me get on with it...'

'If I'd let you get on with it, this
floor would be knee deep in S-H-1-T'

Before you rang me up all aggressive
I were getting on with you fine,

giving it all the gentlemanly stuff
I could do, and then
you shot it down t'fucking pan.

No. Don't turn it on me.

I don't want to turn it on you, Sue,
because it doesn't matter any more.

The floor was filthy.

Does it matter?

Yes. It does.

I think we've established that.
Look. Yeah?

Fuck the fucking floor.
That's worse.