All language subtitles for goodnight_sweetheart_s01e01_rites_of_passage

Good night, sweetheart.

All my prayers are for you. Good night,

sweetheart. I'll be watching over you.

Tears and crying may make us alone.

But with the dawn, a new day is born.

I reckon this is the worst party since
Charlton Dye's tenth wedding

I mean, where is everyone? Where are the
faces?

In the kitchen, of course.

You remember that old Jonah Louie
record?

You will always find me in the kitchen,
I thought.

Yeah. I wonder what became of Jonah
Louie.

Probably still in the kitchen.

Why is it whenever you go to a party
there's a completely empty living room

yet the kitchen's like the black hole of
Cricklewood?

I think you mean Calcutta.

Yeah, I know.

I just said Cricklewood because...

You know, this is Cripplewood.

By way of being a joke, really.

Oh!

Only there is a lot of Indian food in
the kitchen, and I thought that's what

might be alluding to.

Chicken tikka nuggets, I ask you.

My fingers look like I'm on 60 caps from
full strength a day.

And the music.

Compared to this, Boney M were talented.

I've got some good stuff, though. Look
at this.

Lightning Slim, John Lee Hooker.

Sonny Boy Williams.

You like him?

Gary, people want to dance.

What people?

I don't see any people.

Do you want to dance?

Ron, no, thank you, Gary. I think I'll
sit this one out.

In fact, I think I'll give this whole
lousy party a miss.

I only got dragged along because my
Stella's on the same open university

as our hostess, whom I presume that was.
Yeah, I see, Ron. Right.

Nice tight little bum, I thought.

Yeah.

Though she did strike me as a bit of a
madam. Yes, yes, I noticed that too.

Anyhow, I took the precaution of sussing
out where the nearest real ale hostel

is, so I think I shall repair then.

Do you fancy a good drink? Oh, I'd love
one, Ron, but I can't really leave. Why

not? It's my party.

Oh, no.

No, tell me you're kidding.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

So Yvonne, with the tight little bum, is
your... My wife, yeah.

What I said about her was completely out
of order. Oh, it did. It was, Ron.

They're perfectly accurate on both the
madam and bottom fronts.

And if it's your birthday, her bottom
notwithstanding, why didn't you insist

Sonny Boy Williamson and pork pies?
That's right.

But ever since she started this
psychology course, she's become so adept

manipulating me, I can't get a thought
in edgeways.

I don't mind my style of doing this open
university course.

It's better than when she was out every
night boozing and getting into fights.

Trouble with women is they always know
how to make men feel like little boys.

It'd be different if I'd ever killed
anything.

How so?

Well, I mean, you know, what we men lack
in society today is a right of passage.

Our fathers, they did national service.

Their fathers fought in the war.

Experiences which marked their shift
into manhood, you know.

I mean, in A Man Named Horse, Richard
Harris was suspended by his nipples in

order to be accepted as a saint.

I'd bloody serve if they did that to me.

And then, of course, you've got your
apprenticeship system.

I mean, when my grandad, right, he did
his five years as a cooper.

Learning to make barrels. Yes, the very
trade.

They marked his entry into manhood by
coating him in brewer's malt, shutting

in a barrel, rolling him down five
flights of factory steps and into the

It's a moment right with symbolism,
that.

All right, he was so badly injured he
was never actually able to ply his new

trade. I fully comprehend, Gaz.

I think that's why I feel like a man.

You see, I was one of the last people to
do the old hot metal print

apprenticeships, after which I was
covered head to toe in printer's ink and

thrust stark naked into the ladies'
toilet.

That's better than being a cooper,
though.

Happy days.

So what do you do?

Oh, I'm in television.

You're not famous, are you?

Have you been in anything I've heard of?

Well, it depends.

You heard of Rumbelows? I'm sorry?

Televisions, plural.

I repair them.

Well, used to.

Seldom go wrong, these days.

And since the Who stopped touring, you
don't even get to pick the one they've

thrown out of hotel windows.

It wasn't your apprenticeship capped
with some satisfyingly pseudo -tribal

ceremony. Yeah.

Close as I came to a rite of passage
with being forced to watch Blankety

the unsuccessful negotiation of which
will invigorate new races or a psychosis

in later life.

As we know, the most crass of popular
fiction, that the fundamental

motivational factor in male
psychological development is the urge to

father and impregnate the mother.

I'm really glad we paid extra for that
red -hot Dutch decoder. Gary, if you're

going to be behind with my course, I
have to watch this.

Yeah, that's a night of all nights.

It's my birthday. Oh, no, it was your
birthday yesterday, remember?

I gave you an expensive Mont Blanc
rollerball, and you said in that silky

boy voice you do so well, oh, it's just
the job to do my worksheets with.

Well, I'm sorry, Ron, I was
disappointed.

When you promised me something sleek,
black and German, I was expecting a BMW.

Well, at least a date with Boris
Becker's girlfriend.

Don't you want me to get my psychology
degree?

Don't you want me to get promoted?

Don't you want us to be able to move off
this estate of starter homes into a

house where when the neighbours pull the
chain, your shower water doesn't give

you second -degree burn?

Look, all I know, you are never going to
get a psychology degree if you lack the

insight that on his birthday, your
husband expects a leg -over.

And at the risk of sounding
conventional, is sex all you think

Yes.

Except when I'm actually doing it.

Then I think about John Selwyn Gummer. I
find it helps me last longer.

John Selwyn Gummer, eh? That's very
interesting.

Well, so, open university and closed
legs, is it, right? No.

Gary, as soon as I've finished this, I
promise to give you such a Theracine

that for the rest of the month you'll be
hard -pressed to erect as much as a

satellite dish.

Now, just be patient.

I don't demand physical gratification in
the middle of a Super Bowl, do I?

All right.

Well, if I fall asleep, wake me up
before you go -go.

Gary? Oh, that was quick. Right, come
on.

No, the video's on the blink again.

Oh, is it?

Why is it everywhere you want to find in
the A to Z is always in a crease?

Excuse me, I'm looking for Hugh
Gatesgill House.

I've got to pick up a telly. Hugh
Gatesgill House, yes.

Always admired Hugh Gatesgill.

That shame he died so young. He made a
wonderful Prime Minister.

Might have changed the course of British
history.

I'm sure, but where's his house?

Yes, of course.

Sorry. Always do tend to go off on
tangents.

That's what they said last time I failed
my sergeant's interview.

Hugh goes for House.

Yes. Best thing to do is take your first
right, first left until you come to

Duckett's Passage. Go down Duckett's
Passage, take your first right, second

left, and you can't miss it.

But if you do miss it, ask at the Royal
Oaks.

Cheers.

Oh, excuse me, I'm looking for Hugh
Gatesgill House.

Hugh Gatesgill House, anyone?

You're a starter for ten.

Excuse me.

Oh, it's a theme pub, isn't it?

Of course it is. Yeah, very convincing.

Oh, hello.

I haven't seen you in here before. What
can I get you? Actually, I just came in

for directions. I'm looking for Hugh
Gatesgill House.

Oh, sorry. It means nothing to me. Are
you sure it's round here?

Well, I asked the copper. He said it was
just round the corner.

Sorry. Oh, Dad might know, though. He
knows everything, he thinks.

Dad! Oh, for Mo, I'm coming up.

What is it? Oh, this gentleman wants to
know where Hugh Gatesgill lives.

Hugh Gatesgill?

Don't ring a bell with me.

Is Hugh Gateskill a regular? No, not
Hugh Gateskill. Hugh Gateskill House.

It's a tower block.

A what?

Here, what do you want to know for,
anyway? You're not from round these

are you?

No, I'm from Cricklewood.

As luck would have it.

Cricklewood?

That's south of the river, is it?

No. Well, have we declared war on South
London or something?

Don't you cheat me, you young pup. I was
in both battles of the Somme.

I'm entitled to ask. We've got to be
careful.

Careless talk costs lives.

Oh, gotcha. Yeah, I have to stay in
period.

Right. Eh?

Well, I must say, you might be taking
this 1940s theme a bit too far.

I mean, for a start, it doesn't seem to
be much of a hit with a crucial 18 to 25

-year -old.

Eh? I mean, where's the younger
generation?

Where are they?

I'll tell you where the younger
generation are. They've taken the king's

shilling. Ah.

What's the king going to do when his gas
goes out, eh?

takes it all very seriously.

Seriously?

Britain stands alone, girl.

The Hun is poised to invade.

Adolph's panthers are gunning their
engines even as we speak. Of course I

it seriously.

And I'd like to know why you're not in
blinking uniform.

Oh, um, I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to
divulge that information.

Careless talk, all that.

Oh, oh, oh, I see.

Right you are, sir.

Mum's the word.

Does he do how much of dramatics you're
doing?

I've got to say, he's bloody good.

Oi!

Ladies present.

Well, I've seen as I'm here, I think
I'll have a drink.

I don't suppose you do lager?

Do what?

No, of course you don't.

All right, a pint of best then. Oh,
sorry, Dad's only serving half for the

duration. Oh, right.

OK, well, half then.

And how much will that be, pray?

Sixpence eight me?

Where do you think you are, the rich?

It's Tubbins Farthing.

Happy hour, is it?

Happy?

When it went up from Tubbins, there was
nearly a riot.

Oh, come on, seriously, how much? I told
you, Tubbins Farthing.

Would you excuse me a minute?

Look, there's the entire street on this
theme, Mark.

Theme?

All right, son.

Well, you told me to ask in here about
Hugh Gatsgall House, you remember?

And they all blamed me.

And they frightened I'm a spy from the
brewery trying to catch them out of

character or something.

I sincerely hope you're not a spy, son.

Now, who was it you were asking after?

Hugh Gatsgall, was it?

No, you gave me directions not half an
hour ago.

Must have been another Bobby, son.

Half an hour ago, I was doing a
bandaging demonstration for the ARP in

Christadelphian Hall.

Standing room only.

That might have been more to do with the
appeal of Mrs.

Hardcastle's rock cakes.

Of

course.

It's not a theme club.

It's a dream.

I'm asleep.

Oh, that's all right then.

I wonder if I'll get my leg over that
bar, mate.

I'm just going to turn into my Auntie
Enid like they usually do.

Significance of that.

Oh, sorry I rushed out like that, but I
thought I saw Vera Lynn walking down the

road with Winston Churchill.

It turned out to be an off -duty Polish
airman with a roller liner over his

shoulder. Easy mistake to make. I hope
you're not gibbering so as I'll forget

that you owe her tuppence farthing.

No, no, of course not. Only, um, oh,
seemed to have come out without any

on me. No offence, Constable.

Will you take a cheque? You cheeky Arab,
who do you think you are?

Well, if that's a no, I'll have to write
you an IOU.

Hey, wait a tick.

Where did you get this?

It was a birthday present.

Here, Red, you ever seen anything like
this before?

No, I have not.

As a policeman, I flatter myself I'm on
more than nodding terms with pens,

pencils and other writing implements.

Where's the ink go, then?

Made in Germany.

I think you've got some serious
explaining to do, Sonny Jim.

No, it was given to me in America.

Oh, yeah, and I've just come back from
the moon.

Arrest him, Reg. He's a spy.

Stands to reason. No money, German pen.

Asking for some bloke nobody's ever
heard of. Oh, don't be silly, Dad.

Don't you talk to me like that. You'll
feel the back of my hand, young lady.

if he was a spy, would he be drawing
attention to himself like this? Of

not. He'd have English money.

An indelible pencil.

He wouldn't keep going on about his
hairy gasket.

Who asks you? You should be in the
kitchen getting my tea.

She has got a point, Eric.

Could be a double bluff, though.

There's only one way to find out. You
mean precisely.

Here you are.

Read that, fritzy.

Worcestershire beat Warwickshire by ten
wickets.

Sorry we doubted you, son.

What did I do right?

Everyone knows that Bosch can't
pronounce their Ws.

If you was a German spy, you'd have said
Warwickshire and Worcestershire.

I think you owe him an apology, Eric.

Unless he was born in Germany, educated
in England, and then went home to join

the Nazis, there was a flick like that
up at the... Eric, just say sorry.

What?

Oh, all right.

But you still owe me for the beer. Yeah,
I know.

That's why I was looking for Huey
Gateskill. He owes me two quid from

went to the States. Two quid? That's a
lot of money. Have you told the police?

He's just telling you.

Right you are.

Well, it's not a police matter.

Well, it will be if you don't pay for
your beer.

I'll tell you what, why don't you sell
me your Yankee pen?

I'll give you half a dollar for it. I'll
give you three bob.

I never said it was for sale. Four
and... Four and eightpence.

All right, what do I care?

It's only a dream.

Half a crown, three and six, four bob,
four and three pence, four pence, five

pence, three farthings.

I took for the beer. Yeah, I thought you
might.

It's a little bit funny, the feeling
inside.

That's nice.

Did you learn that in America?

Eh? Uh,

yeah. Well, actually, um, I wrote it.

Have you written any others?

Uh, yeah, I want to say.

And now the end is near, and I must face
the final

curse. Hey, hey, hey, hey! None of them
defeatist dongs in my pub, if you don't

mind. I'll leave him alone, Dad.

He's talented.

You could be on the wireless.

And now, live from the Café de Paris,
the tinkling tunes of...

What's your name?

Oh, Gary. Gary Sparrow.

Phoebe Bamford.

Hi. So what do you do for a living?

Television repairman.

Oh.

Times must be hard for you, then.

Why's that?

Cos there hasn't been any television
since the day war broke out, has there?

Dad was really browned off. He was
hoping to follow the war on it.

Oh. Well, obviously, during hostilities,
I've switched to other things, you

know, like radar.

What's that when it's at home?

Well, it's the radio system used for
tracking enemy... Forget I spoke.

Oi! Oi, Phoebe, he's not the only
customer and you're a married woman.

We're only chatting.

Yeah, well, make sure that's all you do.

So, where's your old man, then?

Well, last letter I had, he was in
Tunisia.

Been gone over six months now.

Bet you miss him, eh?

Of course.

We used to go dancing, pictures.

I'll never get out now.

I could take you dancing if you like.

I've got a car, we could go up west.

You cheeky so -and -so.

We'd have to sit out the flow numbers.

So where's your gas mask, then?

What? Here.

Reg, he hasn't got a gas mask.

Oh, hasn't he now?

Well, well, well.

I think we've got a spare one at the
station.

That's not the point. Why hasn't he got
one? It's all very suspicious.

I haven't got a gas mask because I'm a
claustrophobic, all right.

Oh, so now he's claiming he's from a
neutral country.

What? No, claustrophobia is a fear of
confined spaces. It's not a place.

Is he telling the truth, Reg? He is,
Eric.

I'd still ask him for his papers if I
were you. I'm getting really bored with

this. Unless, of course, he hasn't got
any papers.

Oh, of course I've got papers.

We German spies never go anywhere
without a copy of Mein Kampf, a signed

photograph of Adolf Hitler and a jar of
sauerkraut. You cheeky bugger. Oi!

Ladies present.

Leave him alone, Eric. This isn't a
police state. Anyone can see he's true

Thank you, officer.

Permit me to buy you a schnapper.

Very amusing. Very amusing.

Well, I ain't laughing. I knew he was
the hun. Oh, shut up, Eric. I'm in back.

All right.

Down the cellar, everybody.

Come on, Gary.

Down the cellar? Well, that's not the
real... Oh, why are you taking your

It's not a real... It's not a real...
That one was too close for comfort. Come

on, Gary.

Come on.

Why are you taking your time?

Come on, get down the cellar.

Two there, you know the way.

Phoebe, where have you been? Come on.

No, I'm not going to like it now.

I really am a claustrophobic.

Oh, look, come on, Gary.

Let me out!

Let me out, please.

I can't stand it. Let me out.

Just let me... Oh!

Oh, what a brilliant dream.

Oh, I was chatting up this gorgeous
little bird.

Getting on like a house on fire.

And then there was this sort of air raid
siren and the...

My

God, it's real. Are you all right, Sam?
Here, try this.

Oi, oi, not so fast. I'm saving that for
when the Tommy's marching to Berlin.

I'm dead.

Feeling any better, Gary?

Huh? Uh, yeah, sort of. The panic
attacks sort of come and go.

I don't like it down here. Oh, I'm so
sorry. If I'd known you was coming, I'd

have the painters and decorators here.

Tell you what, why don't we all have a
nice sing -song?

How about Run, Rabbit, Run?

Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run.
Gary writes songs.

Well, not really.

Yes, you do. Lovely songs.

Do that one, you know.

It's a bit funny.

Are you sure?

Come on, Sam.

It's a little bit funny.

Feeling inside.

It's all right, I suppose. I still say
that words and world don't rhyme.

Unless they do in German.

It really is 1940, isn't it?

My van's parked in 1993 and I'm in 1940.

Hey, I saw that. That's a tunner.

Phoebe, did you bring the tilt tray down
with you?

No, I thought you did.

Oh, no, you stupid girl.

But it ain't my fault. You never lay out
your sight, usually.

Rick, remember we're going to nick your
takings during an air raid.

Oh, but haven't you heard of Goering's
crack 15th Airborne Petty Cash Brigade?

Oh, my clever dick.

Listen, I think they're going away.

I'm going up to check the till. Yeah,
you've got to wait for the all clear.

It's my pub. I'll do as I Flaming World
like.

It's no good. I've got to get out of
here. I'm sorry. It's all staying here.

I'm sorry.

Go up there.

I'm just a policeman. That won't take
long.

It's like this up Dawson in 33.

The chap who used to break into the
morgues and interfere with... Oi!

Ladies' presence!

Stupid, I was giving him the kick of
life. The what?

Mouth -to -mouth resuscitation. It's the
only thing that... I learnt it in

America. Look, let him.

Don't let him die, Gary.

You've got to hand it to them. When it
comes to kissing, they know a thing or

two these days.

What happened? Was this German spy just
saved your life?

How? Don't ask.

Why not?

He's brilliantly resourceful, but not
very manly.

Oh, my head's killing me.

I'm not surprised.

Look what I had you.

Gary, son, you know you're a hero.

Phoebe, nick down the cellar and fetch
that bottle of brandy.

We might as well finish it off.

go. Gary, sing us another one of them
tunes you wrote.

Oh, no, honestly, I'll miss my last
tram.

Don't be a stranger, son.

Yeah. Come back and see us soon.

Gary, I'll walk you to the tram stop if
you like.

Oh, no, don't put yourself out.

You saved my dad's life.

Besides, he got lost coming here in
broad daylight.

Yeah, well, maybe just to the end of the
street, then, eh?

Do you suppose you ever will come up
this way again?

It's not on my usual route.

Oh.

So when you said about going dancing,
were you just hugging Mick?

Well, you are married.

This isn't 1993.

No?

What are you talking about?

Oh, nothing. I've just been reading a
book.

Except in the future, you know, where
women got up to all sorts of things,

whether they're married or not.

Well, it's 1940.

My husband's overseas.

God knows when he'll come home.

And I just thought it'd be nice to go
dancing with someone who wasn't going to

try and take advantage.

Well, there is still that tunic a Hugh
Gates gives me.

Go on, get back to your dad.

If there's not a pay -rich service van
parked at the end of this alley, am I in

deep trouble.

Where the hell have you been?

What time do you think it is?

I was going to ask you that question.

It's half past eleven.

What year?

Gary, what are you talking about? I was
getting worried.

And look at the state of you.

Gary, are you all right? Has there been
an accident?

No.

I finished my last delivery and I popped
into this pub for quite half. Which

turned into half a dozen noisy pints.

No.

Mum, this pub was...

Well, what happened? The landlord
tripped and he fell down an open

his cellar. He banged his head. He
stopped breathing.

Oh, and I suppose you gave him the kiss
of life.

Yeah, I did.

Me.

Gary Sparrow, television repairman.

Back there, I fought for a man's life
and I won.

Gary, are you winding me up?

You can't visualise me as a hero, can
you?

Frankly, no.

Get those... Dirty overalls off the
duvet cover.

Gary, I don't mind if you want to go out
for a drink with your mates after work.

You don't have to lie to me. I'm not
your mother.

Goodnight, Gary.

Goodnight, sweetheart.

Goodnight, sweetheart.

Sleep will banish sorrow.

Goodnight, sweetheart.

Till we meet tomorrow Dreams enfold you

Remember I'll hold you Good night,

sweetheart