All language subtitles for bliss-s01e08-in-praise-of-drunkenness-and-fornication-givefastlink

Thank you.

Bob, first the oysters, then soup.

Salad. What, am I doing the salad? No,
you're shucking the oysters.

I want to mess with my manicure.

Oh.

You're looking awfully girly tonight.

Hey, I am a girl, in spite of
everything.

I feel girly and flirty and... Well, are
you

thinking to discombobulate young John?

As best I can.

No man has the right to look that good.

Someone's got to want to nerve him every
now and then.

No more than you'll be fawning over the
winsome Wendy.

She of the firm, fair flesh.

Rosy -cheeked.

Becken.

Becken?

It's the last thing on my mind.

I'm so glad the kids are gone. I'll tell
you, I could shout from the bloody

rooftops. Me too.

Free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are
free at last.

How the hell are we celebrating, anyway?

I don't know.

Saturday?

Oh, Jack and Leah always give me a lift.
I love them to bits.

You need a lift?

I need a fucking blood transfusion.

But this ought to do it.

And if it doesn't, we'll just gaze on
John and Wendy, huh?

Goal.

Goal.

I thought you were crazy about Jack.

I am, but not to gaze on. I could listen
to Jack talk forever.

You have to listen to him talk.

He always hogs the conversation.

Well, speak up, then.

And get the door.

Don't even think about it. Sit. No, I'd
like to help, but if I don't get up and

move about, I'll pass out. No, it's
bizarre.

I mean, we're all bloated when Kevin
Thompson grieves.

I spent an entire day last week studying
an infinite variety of refrigerants.

Did I hear infinite variety?

Well, here it comes.

Age cannot wither her.

Nor customs stale her infinite variety.

Wow.

Jack, that's beautiful.

You're so lucky, Leo. Oh, yeah, right.

Now it's all for you. Write out your
responsibilities.

Pardon?

You are beautiful.

You're Bob's right.

You are beautiful.

Well, that's so nice, but the truth is I
feel fat and totally

out of my depth here. I mean, I feel
stupid. I spend all day every day with

kids under four.

Honey.

Drink up.

Drink up.

Of course not.

We drink for medicinal purposes only.

Yes, to save the public health system.
That's two or three glasses a day, Jeff,

not bottles.

No, I can't, Alice.

Oh, for crying out loud, girls,
sometimes you've got to cut loose.

Yes, she's right. This is your big
chance.

Well, the kids will have me up at six no
matter what. Fuck the kids.

Let the little buggers fend for
themselves for a change.

Alice,

you are...

Well, let John get up with them.

Yeah. I will. I'll do it. I promise.

I don't think so.

For Christ's sake, Wendy.

Don't be such a martyr.

They'll turn on you as soon as they hit
puberty anyway.

Your youthful good looks will be gone
and you'll have no sense of fun to hide

you over.

You're too hard on her.

She has no idea the power she has, do
you?

Am I that obvious?

When your kids were little, did you ever
think then that all the men were hot

for you?

God, no.

They were.

Jack, for sure.

But many others.

Yes,

I have to.

Would you like some ice in your drink,
my winsome Wendy?

Were you always the life of the party,
Alice?

I mean when your kids were little.

Because maybe that's why they turned on
you.

Bruv. You do have a spine after all.

You're missing my point.

Every stage of our lives has an upside,
but we usually miss it while it's

happening. Now, Wendy here, to whom you
are behaving very badly, is beautiful.

She's a perfectly ripe peach.

Only she doesn't realize it. Now, even
getting old has its upside.

Oh, Leah. No, no, no. Thanks for
objecting.

I'm telling you, when you stop having
kids, and you stop looking in that tiny

little mirror the world holds up to you,
and you finally realize you own your

own body, your own desire, inside of
your own head, just as it is.

Promise? I promise.

I love you.

Wendy?

I'm sorry for being such a bitch.

You are a peach.

And I'm jealous.

How many have you had to drink, Jay?

I don't know. Quartz, I guess. But, you
know, there is ballast in the food.

Let's have another little touch.

Yes. Alex, there you go.

Here you go, John.

Do you know that John got all of the
legal work for the hospice

free? Wow.

Well, John, that's not very lawyerly of
you.

Are you sure you're in the right
profession?

No, he's not. Not really.

Well, what then?

Gamekeeper. Uh -oh.

Your name is John Thomas.

Lady Chatterley, do you remember her
gamekeeper called his peanut?

John Thomas.

I think we should go home. We all know

never mix the grape and the grain.

But when the grain is the breath of God
itself in your mouth.

A little taste for you, Mr. John Thomas?

We really have to go.

What about that again?

No, it's thick.

I'm sorry. Me too.

Thanks.

It was really nice.

John.

Two dogs.

And the devil, Alice.

You are really something to know there,
Alice.

Well, I say.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

Come on.

Double again, comrade.

Here.

Clean up this mess for us.

And I read somewhere that people aren't
afraid of death so much as they're

afraid of not having lived.

As in, not yet, not yet.

And is that how you feel, that you're
not in your life?

Well, not full on.

Not the way I imagined I might.

But I aim to change, Jack.

Well, remember this, little sweetheart.

Maturity is when...

One finds again the seriousness of a
child at play.

I'm looking for someone to play with.

Are we good or what, huh?

You're good.

You are. We were talking about John and
Wendy. Lovely girl. You couldn't pay

either one of us to be 30 again.

I feel like I'm just hitting my stride.

Finally. In spite of the actuaries who
say I should be dead and buried.

You know what I say?

Fuck the actuaries.

Fuck them all.

Let's dance.

So much for my hitting my stride.

You're all right, darling. You want me
to take you home?

That's right.

That's right. Today, Bob can tuck you
into Sally's bed.

Yes, yes. Come, my lovely Leah. I'm
going to tuck you in and kiss you

I think more whiskey is called for.

French kissing with God.

We are going to be so wrecked tomorrow.

But it's worth it.

You can't just ignore the given rules in
a stupid, hapless fashion.

You have to take responsibility for your
actions. That's key.

That's the key to anarchy.

Admit it, Alice.

You're an anarchist because you don't
like going to meetings.

I'm not, though, you know.

Too busy to take a position.

But I'm sure my wife would rather be
married to an anarchist.

Oh, no, Bob.

One anarchist to a household is plenty.

You an anarchist, Jack?

God, no.

Don't have the courage.

Bob?

To Bob.

Honey.

Honey, come on.

Come on, it's time to go to bed.

I love you, Alice.

Yeah, I love you, too.

Love you, too, Jack.

Love you, too, Bob.

I can make it up, honey.

You sure?

Yeah, fine, fine.

Man, after my own heart.

Sorry.

For what?

Sweet, lovely Alice.

Sweet, sexy Alice.

I've always been mad for you.

But it's five in the morning, and we're
all

grown up, and we ought to crawl off to
bed to sleep with our respective

Mm -hmm.

Same old, same old.

But you're not.

If you're gonna love me, boy, you gotta
love me down inside.

Don't you be wrong, baby.

Ain't gonna sleep with my hands tied.

So many people ain't got it right.

I hope not, Jack.

Come and see for yourself.

Like that.

Beautiful poem.

I'll show you my poem if you show me
yours.

You are so beautiful, yeah?

Let's get naked, honey. Roll around for
a while.

I'm much too old to be tumbling on a
stair like a 15 -year -old.

Are you all right?

Yeah. I'm just... happy.

Whatever you're doing, I hope you're

enjoying the glory of Sunday morning.

News and weather at the top of the hour.

And to take a stare, a little swing...

You know, I can't remember feeling this
good.

Hang on.

Hang on.

Oh, no, Alan. Please, no. The hair of
the dog.

Two.

A very good fortune.

Long may we love.

Your hair.