All language subtitles for Goodnight Sweetheart s03e03 Its a Sin to Tell a Lie

Good night, sweetheart.

All my prayers are for you.

Good night, sweetheart.

I'll be watching over you.

Tears and parting may make us alone.

But with the dawn,

a new day is born.

You going like that?

Yeah.

It's Sunday lunchtime at the local.

There's definitely more lager top than
lager fell.

The king's head is the hottest vibe in
Cricklewood come the Sabbath.

It is packed tight with the hip posse
who spend Saturday nights on a dance

Are we talking about the same king's
head that boasts a buffo the clown play

area and free lemonade for the under
-7s?

We should still legislate for the
unexpected.

We are two caballeros off the marital
leash.

We could easily be propositioned by a
couple of nubile ladies. Yeah, Ron. Then

spend the afternoon being whisked around
the Surrey countryside in an open -top

cabriolet, ending up with a light
champagne supper in some noted West End

spot. Ron. For I am armed and we are
dangerous.

Ron, Yvonne's coming with us.

Five miles I drove to find a chemist
open on a Sunday.

Well, surely Cricklewood's hottest vibe
had a buy -me -and -stop -one machine in

the gents.

Of course.

But the Saturday night swingers always
empty it out.

You sound like a man who hasn't sunk a
putt in a long, long while.

No, no, no. Nor are we likely to.

So I thought if she doesn't want me,
there's plenty out there who will,

Yes, hundreds.

Look, if there's anything I can ever
do... How volunteering to stand in for

are you?

Well, just because you've got two birds
on the go, it doesn't make you Don Juan.

All right.

Take it easy. No need to be bitter.

I'm not bitter. I'm jealous.

You need to talk.

With you?

Fat chance.

Have you ever listened to one of our
conversations?

30 seconds on me, then it's straight
into your latest tidings from Wartorn

Oh, that reminds me. Did you print up
that 1940s currency?

You see?

What? I'm a time traveller. It tends to
dominate.

A hundred quid in mixed notes.

Five ones and ten bobs. Ah, you are a
star.

Hi, Ron.

Don't mind me crashing you little boys
out, indeed, yeah?

No, of course not.

Probably be my last chance to relax for
a week. Oh, yeah, and your job's sending

her on a course.

Gary, course is a very simplistic and
outmoded term for what these days is an

invaluable job -orientated interactive
programme for groups. Well, stroke,

individuals within the work experience.

Pardon?

on a course, Ron.

How's Stella?

Well, you should know better than me.

You were the one on the phone for an
hour and a half this morning.

Look, I've changed my mind about going.
I'll see you, OK?

Yeah.

Was that Ron you were talking to Stella
about this morning? Who do you think I

was talking about?

One of those sad people you read about
on the problem pages.

That boy needs help.

That's a bloody fine cue, boy. I'd be
teaching that to all my buckies back

Yeah, I've got an idea. I'll go down big
with the Welsh.

Let's have a little one. Only
catawalling.

What's the time you can come in here for
a quiet drink?

How about a laughing policeman?

Cheer up, Reg.

Oh, miserable bugger, taking a long to
stop you. How about another drink? No,

no, no, my shot. When you're ready,
Phoebe.

I've only got one pair of hands.

Oh, it's a nice crisp new pile of notes
you've got there, boy.

The print of this morning, did you?

So, what, you make a decent living, do
you, selling brushes?

Oh, well, I make a crust, you know, and
I like being on the road, you know. I

like moving about, and it has its perks.

I mean, you wouldn't believe what some
women would do for a decent quality

hairbrush these days.

So there's no Mrs Jones to mind you've
been away from home so much? Oh, no, no,

no. It's a long time since I've worn my
feet on Gladys's back. She ran off with

a cord wailer from Aberystwyth.

Yes, good riddance, you know. No, life's
my wife now, and fun's my mistress.

So come on, Phoebe Cariad, where's my
drink? Yes, same again, Phoebe. Well,

if you've got your glasses. I've got no
time to wash any up. Oh, what a day.

Who's that blind?

I don't know. First my country, now my
beer glass.

Bloody sight, thanks. You English,
you'll nick anything if it's not nailed

Oh, fair dues, girls.

Who's that madman?

I could do with an hand behind the bar,
you know.

Well, I'll thread you.

Maybe even.

He's got a face on him that'll curdle
the milk stout.

Talk to him, Gary.

Why would I want to do that?

He's your friend. He needs to talk.

Why does it suddenly all my friends need
to talk? You either talk to him or you

help me behind the bar.

You're frightened of the girls from the
munitions factory, aren't you?

No. You are.

They embarrass you.

Nonsense.

Girls, Gary's going to come and help me
behind the bar.

If anybody wants me, I'll be over there
with Reg.

Mind if I join you, Reg?

Suit yourself, son.

I've got to warn you, I'm not very good
company. I'm a bit brand off at the

minute.

Blooming Welsh windbag!

Owen, what's he done?

He's been hanging round my mini.

And I think they've been doing more than
discussing the price of his yard

brooms, if you get my drift.

What, you think they're sleeping
together?

You don't mind coming out with it, do
you?

If that weren't enough for a mortal soul
to bear, I've got the inspector hauling

me over the coals.

And you don't want to listen to my
problems.

Of course I do.

He's insisting I'll get my annual arrest
rate up.

To what? If just one had been nice.

I appreciate I may be a bit of a gurker.

Sorry? I'll take no prisoners.

I've got other qualities. Well, of
course you have.

Just remind me.

The uniform's always freshly pressed.

Presentation's very important.

Of course, you don't help me to look
good when I've got someone on me beat

-passing their counterfeit notes.

Like what?

I know, you wouldn't credit it, would
you? I've been told to sort the bloke to

look out for.

Fairly new to the area.

Like yourself.

Quite young.

Like yourself.

Someone who's not short of a few, Bob.
Like yourself.

Any suspects?

No! I've been racking my brains. I can't
think of anyone who fits the bill.

Your round comes to one and nine. Get
your money out.

No.

I mean, put it on the plate. I'll pay
you later.

All right.

I mean, in the middle of a pub full of
people, people who look up to me, people

who respect... me, I find that the pound
in my pocket is straight from the bank

of Toy Town.

I was sure these were perfect.

Well, that bit doesn't look right. It's
fine.

And what's that supposed to be then?
It's part of the design.

Looks like an ear.

It's not an ear.

Are you sure? Gary.

And there are two L's in shilling,
aren't there? Maybe you'd like to go and

down. I'm just trying to help.

With respect, you don't know a lot about
printing. Yeah, well, I'm not sure you

do, no.

I am by no means perfect.

Sparkling repartee does not float from
my lips.

Women have never swooned when I walk
into a room, and I'm inclined to belch

loudly after eating pizza.

But there is one land in which I am lord
and king, all -knowing and infallible,

the land of precious plates and hot
metal. In short, the land of printing.

I'm very sorry, Your Royal Highness, but
you cocked up somewhere.

Unless you did it on purpose.

You admitted you were jealous of my
double wife.

Maybe you tried to scupper it by
supplying me with detectable forgeries.

How can you think me so contemptible?
You're not my wife.

I'm serious, Ron.

I daren't go back there until this is
sorted out. If they start asking me

questions, I've had it. I'm a terrible
liar. Oh, yeah?

When's that?

When you're deceiving Phoebe or when
you're deceiving Yvonne?

You see?

You're upset with my love life because
you haven't got one of your own. Just

consider the evidence.

Right now, all I'm considering is how to
shut you up so I can sort out what's

happened. I know what happened. I made
the mistake of relying on printing's

equivalent of Mr Bean.

Get out.

Make me.

I mean it. Get out.

And I mean make me.

Oh, Gary, grow up.

Oh, come on.

Big man, throw me out of your office.

Oh, Gary, come on. Gary.

Oh, hi, Stella.

Gary! You hurt yourself.

Oh, yeah.

Wait a minute.

Oh, you've had enough, have you?

That's not fair. You're using your
weight.

It's a fight.

Bite your wuss!

Where did you get this note?

From you.

Not this one you didn't. Feel it.

Sorry.

You were that close to... Look.

See how thin it feels compared to mine.
And look at the colours.

Yeah, they're all washed out.

So where'd it come from, then?

You must have got it in your change.

You mean...

Somebody else is passing counterfeit
money.

Another time traveller?

No.

Judging by the shoddy handiwork on this
travesty the forgers are, I'd say... I'd

say there's a spy in your myth.

A spy?

That's a bit overdramatic, isn't it?

Not at all.

In 1943, the Germans launched Operation
Bernhard.

Near -perfect forgeries flooded the
country, almost wrecking the British

economy.

But up until then, their attempts were
dead crude.

And only used to pay off Natalie agents
who were too greedy to know the

difference. A spy.

That's amazing. Are you really sure?

Ron's my name, Princeton's my game.

I could win Mastermind if it wasn't for
that stupid general knowledge section.

I've got to get back. He'll catch him.

Left a wretched dead man. He won't get
caught until he's deposed Churchill and

married the Queen.

Hey, what am I saying? It might be a
woman.

No.

Spying's a man's job.

learning to live on your wits in a
hostile environment.

Marriage trains us for it.

Yeah, look... Look, I'm really sorry
about accusing you of giving me a

doctorate. No, no, I was out of order
and I feel really bad about it.

Look, whatever problems you're having
with Stella, I... Well, I'll be there

you, OK?

Maybe you'd like to go out for a drink
and a chat tonight.

Yeah, yeah.

Yeah, no problem. I'll call round for
you about seven, shall I? You can, but

with Stella currently sporting a highly
jaundiced view of the male population, I

cannot guarantee your safety.

Yeah, you call round for me.

What time is he supposed to be here?

Seven. Oh, he's probably gone to one of
those memorabilia fairs.

He's always late when he goes to one of
those.

Going out for a drink and a chat, are
you? Yeah, that's right.

Don't you think you'd be better off
talking to Stella?

I worry about her. She's my best friend.

And you're her husband.

So it's no wonder I worry about her.

I'm sorry, Yvonne, but you don't know
the whole story.

Yes, I do.

You're not a bad man, Ron. You're just a
very dull one.

She only wants a bit of excitement to be
taken out more.

No, being taken out more is not all she
wants, actually.

Well, a request for the occasional bout
of sex outside the bedroom isn't exactly

demanding.

Oh, God, she's told you the lot.

I just think there's a time and a place
for everything.

We eat off that kitchen table.

Ron, can't you let your inhibitions drop
once in a while? Isn't it worth it to

make her happy?

I mean, I'm sure when she's happy,
you're happy.

Not at all.

I'm not saying I have to be miserable
before she's happy, but I think it

Hi!

What's up?

Nothing. You OK?

Fine. Great.

Coffee? Yeah.

Decaf, I think.

Wrong, wrong.

You should have seen what happened
today. You're late.

Eh? We were going out, remember?

What, are we married?

I caught the spy.

This was important to me.

I need to talk to someone before my
marriage goes down the toilet.

Oh, that's a bit over the top.

From what I hear, all you've got to do
is slip one over the bread bit and

everything's going to be fine.

Your problems.

They always have to come first, don't
they?

Any concerns of mine are just there to
be laughed at. Oh, Ron, don't get upset

again. I haven't told you how I caught
the spy yet. You're the only one I can

tell.

It's a real pain when your mates aren't
there for you, isn't it?

Ron!

Gary, what's happened?

I upset him.

Oh, he's a mixed -up boy, that one.

Nothing. Well, since you're not going to
ask, I will just go ahead and I'll tell

you about my day, shall I?

Sorry. Good one? No.

Am I in any way to blame? No.

It's that stupid course.

Course?

Surely you mean your invaluable, job
-orientated, interactive... I can make

your fault if you want me to.

It's just a load of L .A. psycho babble.
It's just totally irrelevant to the

job. I've got to write a story tonight.

It's supposed to... test my powers of
creativity and resourcefulness.

Oh, I haven't written a story since I
was at primary school.

You can help me.

Me? I'm the practical one. You're the
one with the wild, useless imagination.

I can't just make up a story just like
that. I need to have... Well, no, maybe

can.

I was at this memorabilia fair today and
somebody told me this wartime spy

story. It sounds perfect.

Well, it seems there was this...

East End barmaid called Phoebe.

Policeman called Reg, and this young
chap who claimed to work for

called Barry.

Ooh, good -looking and dashing one. Oh,
absolutely, yeah.

Anyway, this wartime spy was passing
counterfeit notes, so Barry decided to

a trap.

Well, all the local shopkeepers have
been alerted.

If the spy tries to pass any more fake
notes, we'll have him.

What do you reckon?

Not mad on women in hats, but in your
case, I'll make an exception.

Dad said my mum wasn't dressed unless
she had a hat on.

What, just a hat?

Gary, my dad never saw my mum naked. It
wasn't done in them days.

Well, how did they get you?

In the dark.

Hello.

It's all right, Mrs Bloss. No -one
fainted this time.

What are you doing?

I'm undercover.

Pretty devious, I thought. If the spy
comes in here, I shall be able to leap

and nab him before he... Before what?

He dies of a heart attack?

There are times when you're a right
silly bugger, Reg.

I'm going to look at the scars.

I suppose it's a bit much for the fairer
sex, the cloak -and -dagger world of

espionage. You're certainly throwing
yourself into it. Could be a real

in my cap if we can catch this blighter.
Could mean me getting three stripes up.

I'm not sure I can be responsible for
that.

Constable Dedman, I've got one. I've got
one.

Yep,

it's a fake, all right.

You'll have to come with me, I'm afraid,
Mrs Snow.

Who'd have thought it of a vicar's wife?

It wasn't Mrs Snow, Reg.

It was Mrs Banford. She tried to pay for
this scarf with that note.

It's no good denying it. I've no
intention of denying it.

I'm very disappointed in you, Phoebe.

If you were short of money, why didn't
you come to me instead of making your

own? Don't be silly, Reg.

Phoebe unwittingly took this note over
the counter, didn't you?

No.

I'm not going to say any more in front
of these people.

Clear the shop, Reg.

You too, please, Mrs Bloss.

But this is Maison Bloss.

It's my shop.

Would you like me to pass your name to
the Home Secretary?

Where did you get the money, Phoebe?

From you, Reg.

Eh? This morning, after you cashed up
that fibre for me.

Here's the rest of it.

It's all fake.

Me, a spy?

Oh, you think you know someone, Reg?

You're not a spy, all right?

Now, just think.

Where did you get this money from?

My mini.

She wouldn't collaborate with the
Germans, would she?

If not, it's about the only nationality
she hasn't collaborated with.

Owen, she got the money off of him.

Now, that's interesting.

Why was he giving her money?

I didn't like to ask.

What's this, then?

Visa.

Er... Yeah, it stands for... Very
Important Security Article.

I see.

Look, it don't seem very British going
through a chap's personal and private

positions when he might not even be
there.

He's a suspected Nazi spy.

Yes, but we'll be armed and he shoots us
all.

Then he'll be a known Nazi spy.

Shouldn't we confront him with it first?
Give him a chance to clear his name?

What do you think he's going to say?
It's ein a fair cop, mein Herr.

He was a spy. He lies for a living.

Looks like he's trying to invent germ
warfare.

What is it we're looking for exactly?

I'm not sure. Let's just have a look
round and see what turns up.

Right.

Look at this.

Oh, my word.

Gary, I'm surprised at you leering at
mucky magazines.

Mucky? It's just a few grainy
photographs of some bare -breasted

All right, Reg, you can look now.

Sorry. Look at these.

More forged notes.

Looks like he's left in a hurry, doesn't
it?

Look.

Photographs of the local anti -aircraft
batteries.

With their exact locations written on
the back.

Reg, isn't this you posing in front of
this one?

What? He said he wanted a picture of a
real -life London bobby for his mum.

I thought you couldn't stand him. I was
trying to keep an eye on him and my

mini.

You'd better destroy that photograph,
Reg. You think I should?

Well, which headline would you prefer?

Brave constable helps smash Nazi spy
ring or ex -constable turned lavatory

attendant is stupidest man in the
universe?

Well... Have you noticed all Owen's
clothes have gone?

Yeah, he's scarpered, hasn't he?

Well, let's just look around for a clue.
Anything that might tell us where he's

gone.

Oh, what a waste. Look, he's thrown away
a perfectly good notebook.

Reg, give me that notebook.

Oh, waste not, want not, eh?

Have you got a pencil, Reg? Yeah, of
course I have.

You want some?

Vic, 1655.

You're not an intelligence for nothing,
are you, Gary?

What's it mean, though?

Now, this is obviously Owen's contact.

We need to start looking for a chap
called Vic, aged between 16 and 55.

Reg, don't you think it's more likely
that Vic is short for Victoria and 16

is the time of the train he's going to
catch?

Yes, this is also a possibility.

Well, that gives us 40 minutes to get
down there. Come on.

It would be a nightmare trying to find
our own all here.

Is that something that never changes, is
it? The standards of the service on the

railways is disgusting.

Surely a little discomfort is a small
price to pay if it means that other

are free to transport vital water
supplies around the country.

I, for one, think the railways do a
marvellous job.

The railway and its workers are much
admired by everyone who travels on them.

This truly is a magical time.

I think perhaps we should split up.

I'll search the carriages down that way.
You search the carriages down that way,

Kerry. That's a useful suggestion, Reg.
What about me?

I think you should stay here. There's a
sort of go -between in case he slips

past me or Reg.

Right, then.

Yes, well, on second thoughts. She'll
come to no harm with these lads. I trust

good old British Tommy with my life.

Did you say life or wife? I wouldn't
trust a pope with my wife.

Just take care, OK? I'll be all right.
Yeah.

Mind if I make another suggestion?

It'll help speed up the search if we
shout out telegram for Mr Owen Jones.

When Owen says, here, boyo, we'll nab
him.

No, Reg, for that to work, Owen would
have to be unremittingly and

dead.

Um, when we played hide -and -seek at
Christmas, that's how the kids caught

I'll see you later.

Sorry.

Sorry, can I just... Thank you.

Thanks very much.

Excuse me, can I just... Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Sorry.

Thank you very much.

I'm sorry, sir, you can't go any
further. That's my car's van.

Oh, I see.

Are you certain no -one else has gone
through there? Certainly not, sir. Only

animals, luggage and pregnant ladies are
allowed in my guardsman.

All right, thanks.

Did you learn that song?

You heard a Welshman sing it. Where did
he go? Did you let him into that

guardsman? Don't lie to me or I'll pass
your name to the Home Secretary.

Who are you, then?

Secret Service.

Oh, well, he said he was feeling queasy.

I want you to go down the train, find a
police constable dead man, and bring him

right here, okay? Right there.

Well, by the way, how much did he pay
you?

Five quid.

Yeah, well, don't spend it. It's fake.

Hello,

Gary.

Oh, dear.

I take it the game's up, then, is it?

Oh, well, that ain't necessarily so.

Now, I like you, Gary, boy, and I don't
want to shoot you, but make no mistake

about it, I will if I have to.

It won't do you any good.

The guard's gone to fetch Reg Deadman.

Oh, no.

Yes, well, I know that doesn't scare
you, but there are soldiers on this

You'll have them waiting for you at the
next station.

You'd be better off giving yourself up
now, Owen, or whatever your real name

Well, of course Owen is my real name.

It doesn't sound very German. Well, why
should it? I'm Valleys Born and Bred.

So why are you spying for the Nazis?

Money, boy.

And don't look at me like that. I've had
enough of patriotism and sacrifice in

the last lot.

Three years up to my neck in Muck and
Burridge. And for what?

A land for three heroes.

Poverty and unemployment, that's what I
came home to.

Not much reward for having your knackers
shut off, was it?

Yes.

No.

All bloody three.

I can see why you'd be bitter.

Yeah, sure.

You come by here.

I'll tie your legs up in this.

Gary? You all right in here, son?

Tell Dorothy to stay out there.

Stay out there, Reg. Right you are.

And keep away from the door.

Beg your pardon?

What?

Blimey, it's him.

Well done, Reg. He's not cold.

Gary, are you all right?

Yeah, thanks to Reg.

Congratulations, Constable Dedman.

I think you've caught a naughty spy.

Thanks very much, sir.

Oh, Reg.

Oh, by the way.

You know you were worried about Owen and
your mini?

No need.

Nothing happened.

Sort of makes you understand why he did
it, doesn't it?

No, I'm sorry.

Losing your penis is no excuse for
betraying your country.

That was great!

You've got a real knack for telling
stories.

You made the... Characters come alive
like you really knew them.

And that Reg Deadman wasn't the sharpest
tool in the shed, was he? No, he isn't.

Er, wasn't. Oh, hold on. I've got to get
a pen and paper and write this down.

Look, I'm really sorry, mate. No, no.

I overreacted.

You're only half an hour late and it's
not every day you capture a nasty spy.

This is because Stella's getting me
down. Yeah, I know. Look, I'll just tell

everyone. We're going to have that drink
and a chat, OK? Great.

It's wrong. We're just going to go out
for a quick drink. OK.

Where do you want to go?

Anglers. Great. Oh, hold on, Gary. Just
before you go, what was the name of that

pub that Phoebe works in?

Royal Oak.

Oh, God, it's over.

No?

Well, I thought it was about time.

What?

Come on, I thought you wanted a chat
about Stella.

To hell with that. What have you done?

You know, from the way you talked about
her in that story, I got the impression

there was something about that Phoebe
that turned you on.

Next time we make love, would you like
me to pretend to be her?

No.

Oh, go on.

You can be Reg.

Sleep will banish sorrow.

Good night, sweetheart,

till we meet tomorrow.