All language subtitles for goodnight_sweetheart_s01e02_fools_rush_in

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 coming,

a new day is born.

Hi. Hi.

I thought I'd do kidneys for supper.

What? Why?

I don't know.

I just saw these lamb kidneys in the
butcher's windows and a little voice in

head went, yum.

A little voice in my stomach just went,
yuck, you know I don't like kidneys.

I didn't know you don't like kidneys.

We've never had kidneys. Yes, that's
why.

Well, if I knew you didn't like kidneys,
would I have bought kidneys?

You know, you might unconsciously be
punishing me.

For what? For making you do the cooking.

You don't make me do the cooking. I like
doing the cooking.

It was my suggestion, if you recall,
that we share that particular chore.

Perhaps. But subliminally, your male ego
was feeling threatened.

And so you offer me this extraordinarily
symbolic meal to say, look, you are

unmanning me.

You've been sunbathing without a hat
again.

What do you mean, symbolic?

Well, kidneys look like testicles,
right?

And you offer them to me on a plate,
metaphorically saying, here is my

Now are you satisfied?

How about a cheese omelette?

You didn't get the suit then?

No. Butcher only had the one and he was
wearing it. Oh, you were going to get a

suit, Gary, when you left the house this
morning. You promised me. I changed my

mind.

Look, I'm not going to blow the best
part of, what, 40 quid on something I'm

only going to wear once.

So you're going to go for your promotion
interview in jeans and a sweatshirt?

A new sweatshirt.

Look, Yvonne, if I'm going to get this
job, it's going to be because of my

technical know -how and innate charisma,
not my gentleman's apparel.

I'm not a suit person. Everyone knows
that.

So that's how you get your own back?

Get my own what back?

Oh, Gary, am I or am I not an assistant
deputy personnel manager?

You am. And am I or am I not studying
for a degree in psychology, specialising

in human interaction and the interview
process?

That's what you're doing with all those
boats, isn't it? So by rejecting my

professional and personal advice to
improve your image, what are you saying

about our marriage?

I went to the library for you. Are you
trying to change the subject?

Yeah, rather subtly, I thought.

They didn't have Adler's analysis of
Jung's biography of Freud in two

so I got you the latest Barbara Taylor
Bradford and a leaflet in Urdu about

summer play schemes.

Why?

It's a pretty colour.

Was it an unconscious statement that
it's time we had children?

Why? Do you think so? Of course.

Unless it's an unconscious statement
that it's time we went out for some more

curries. That's a word I'm not supposed
to mention while wearing my Rumbelows

boiler suit.

Do you think I'm going to get this job,
then? I don't know.

But am you or am you not the Deputy
Assistant Vice Personnel Manager?

I'm clerical and administrative.

I don't concern myself with people who
wear overalls. In any way, I'd be the

last person to tell.

Tell what? I haven't had the interview
yet. Exactly. So calm down.

Although several other people have
already been seen. Yes, of course.

So, if one was head and shoulders above
the rest, there'd be gossip around the

photocopier, would there not?

The photocopium room is as quiet as a
grave, I promise you.

So you haven't heard anything at all
about the competition?

I have heard one thing.

What? They all wore suits.

Amazing how we take eggs for granted,
isn't it? Where did that come from?

I was just thinking, if this was 1940,
we'd be eating six weeks' rations of

fresh eggs.

fried in a week's worth of butter,
filled with approximately a month's

ration.

And yet they say the national diet was
healthier during the war.

They may not have had fillet steak, but
they didn't have mad cow disease either.

Oh, is that what you're suffering from?

Let me play you something.

Al Bowling, one of the most popular
singers of the 30s.

Killed by a Jerry Landmine in 41.

Voice like a nightingale.

Well, better than a nightingale,
actually.

I often thought a nightingale was a very
overrated bird. There's hardly any meat

on it.

Where did you hear him?

Back in 19... In that 1940s theme pub I
told you about.

Fascinating era of the war, you know.

It's a time when basic everyday life
should have been falling apart and yet

everyone pulled together.

Are you planning to go back then?

What? And it's a theme pub.

I wouldn't mind coming along.

I'm quite interested in the social
psychology of the nostalgia industry.

Oh, well, I only stumbled across it
because I was lost. I went in to ask for

direction. Doubt I could find it again.

Especially in the blackout.

Thank you, Alice, from Boreham Wood,
where everyday life is an out -of -body

experience.

Well, if you've had something mystical
or inexplicable happen to you, like

into a trance election day and waking up
to find you voted for John Major, just

pick up the phone and talk to Marty
Harty on 071 303 3303. What? That's 071

3303.

Whilst waiting for our first caller,
let's have some music.

Here's... Why are you doing this? You
won't get through.

Nobody ever gets through.

Hello?

Yeah, my name's Gary... Baldy.

Gary Baldy.

Yeah, Angelo Gary Baldy.

Yeah, my dad was Italian.

No, I was born in London, that's why I
don't sound Italian.

No, I do look Italian.

And our next caller is Angelo Gary Baldy
from Cricklewood. Hello, Angelo.

Oh, hi, Marty. A bit nervous, first
-time caller.

I hear you're also a bit of a time
traveller.

What? I was in the East End looking for
this address, and I went into this pub,

and suddenly it was 1940.

Beer was tuppence farthing, and there
was an air raid. We all had to go down

shelter in a cellar because... Hello?

Hello?

Well, I think I can fairly say Angelo is
winning our Loony of the Week Award.

How about Cilla Black and I Think I'm
Going Out of My Head?

Well, I think I'm going out of...

Yeah, I was talking to Marty Harty and I
think I got cut off.

Oh, I see.

That's not very polite.

Hello.

I was just driving back from my art
class.

Hence my paint -smattered smock.

And I just thought I'd drop in.

Angelo.

Yeah,

I was just bored. I thought I'd wind him
up, you know. I never liked that Marty

Harty. He only has the people on the
show, so he can make them look stupid.

Sometimes it's not very difficult, is
it?

Do you want a drink?

Oh, you wouldn't happen to have a little
Ricard, would you?

I think I've got good golly Miss Molly
on a compilations tape.

No, it's a drink.

You know, like Pernod.

Tastes like aniseed balls, as imbibed by
the great French Impressionist

painters. Oh.

I see. No, I think till Liz Lutrec
finished off the bottle last night.

I'll have a can of lager, then.

So, did you really wander through some
time warp into a war -torn yesteryear?

Get off.

What do you think, eh?

That's a shame.

I've long yearned to meet somebody who's
stumbled upon the secret of time

travel. To boldly quote Captain Kirk.

It is the final frontier.

The ultimate romance.

Yeah, I suppose we could all deal with a
bit more romance in our lives.

The furry von failing to oblige on the
conjugal front, is she?

Ron, do you mind?

You're right, I'm sorry.

It would be exciting, though, wouldn't
it?

Travelling to a bygone age.

If you could go back in time... Yeah,
well, I promise you I can't, all right?

But if you could, just once, who would
you most like to meet?

Beethoven?

Oliver Cromwell?

George Best?

Ron, George Best is still alive. You can
meet him for the price of a drink.

Yeah, he's well past his sell -by date,
though.

I'd like to meet him in his prime.

Befriend him.

Get free tickets for Manchester United
versus Benfica at Wembley. European Cup

final 1968.

Poor, wonky United after extra time.

If I could go back and meet just one
person, it'd have to be Marilyn Monroe.

I know it's corny, but there's just
something about her, you know, that

vulnerability combined with essential
knowingness. I'm with you with Marilyn.

Here, how about going back to the set of
The Seven Year Itch? You know, when she

stood on that grating and her skirt all
wafted off?

In fact, I'd set my time machine for an
hour before the cameras rolled.

then I'd secrete myself beneath the
grating and wait for the fan to be

on.

You'd squander the gift of time travel
to lie in a basement staring at Marilyn

Monroe's knickers.

Ron, that is really gross.

Yeah, well, men were allowed to be gross
in those days, before women's lip.

And anyway, it's just a fantasy, isn't
it?

Yeah, yeah, of course.

I mean, how can you go back to a time
before your own birth, eh?

All that depends on whether you think of
time as a straight road or a winding

river. You care to elaborate?

Well, if time is a river, then perhaps
we can get off the boat, hike back along

the bank to a bit of the river from
before we were born.

After all, 50 ,000 people a year go
missing in this country alone.

Where are they?

You think they're all hiking about in
the past?

It's not entirely unfeasible.

If you'll permit me the double negative.

Oh, just this one.

Take Lord Lucan, for instance.

One minute, he's a fugitive from justice
in the present day.

The next, I'm reading a history book,
and guess who was leading the charge of

the Light Brigade back in 1854?

No, I think that was one of his
ancestors.

So they say.

You were right, I should have worn a
suit.

As soon as I walked into that interview
room, I saw those three escapees from

Burton's window.

But how did the interview go? What did
they ask you? Well, first of all, they

asked me whether I thought jeans and
trainers were suitable apparel for an

aspiring manager. And what did you say?

Ah, I said, the imposition of
anachronistic dress codes was one of the

sores infecting the body of British
industrial relations.

Really?

No, I only thought of that after I'd
left the room.

What I actually said was, I'm sorry, Mr
Watt, I've only got the one suit and the

cat was sick on it.

Thinking, Gary, one might say almost
managerial thinking.

Yeah? But then one would be lying.

It's too late now.

You've heard, haven't you?

I haven't got it, have I?

I haven't heard anything.

I just meant it's too late to worry.

And for all we know, you've got the job
and we're worrying about nothing.

Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right.

Yeah, there was one, Ray, I hope.

What? As I was leaving the interview
room, Mr Arnold wished the cat better.

I get it.

Cricklewood Cat Hospital.

Oh, hello, Stella.

Stella for you.

Hello, Stella.

Listen, I'm going to go down the off
-line to get some more beers, all right?

OK.

No, it's been a horrible week.

Well, Gary was interviewed today.

No, he never bought a suit in the end.

No, he didn't get it. But I can't tell
him that, can I? I'm flaunting secrecy.

feel terrible for him.

I thought you'd gone.

I forgot my wallet.

Can I call you back, Stella?

Why did you lie to me?

I'm sorry.

I wasn't supposed to know. I just
overheard Mr Watt talking.

How could I tell you? How could you not
tell me? You're my wife. But my contract

of employment.

What about your bloody marriage
contract?

Gary, where are you going?

I'm going to buy a suit.

Would this fit me?

Yes,

I don't see why not.

Why don't you try it on, dear?

There we are.

There.

Oh, yes.

Very nice, dear.

Can I try on the trousers some? Yes, go
in there.

Can I give you a hand?

Well? Very nice, dear.

Think I'd pass master back in 1940?

Very much doubt it.

I was around then, and you hardly ever
saw a gentleman in a lounge suit wearing

Reeboks.

Yeah.

You haven't got anything in an eight and
a half, have you? Well, let's see.

Here we are.

There. How about those?

Yeah, they're a bit tight.

They just need breaking in.

After 50 years?

Oh, well, they do, I suppose.

And it's all authentic 1940s? Of course
it is, dear.

My uncle was wearing that suit the day
he was shot as a spy.

But I did invisibly mend it, so don't
worry.

So, how much for the lot?

Erm...

£25.

Excellent. Do you know where I can get
any money?

Oh, yes, at the cash dispenser down the
road.

No, no, no, no. Period money.

Tanners, throw -up -me -bits, half
-crowns, that sort of stuff.

Oh, well, yes, Hickey over there. She's
got a lot of old coins.

Are you an amateur theatrical?

No, no, no.

I'm a time traveller.

No, it's you.

You've smartened yourself up a bit.

Not bad for 25 quid, eh?

25 quid?

I saw you coming.

Hello.

You look nice.

Where have you been?

Eaton Cricklewood Way, remember? He's
not local.

Yeah, well, actually, I've been a bit
busy. Can't tell you what exactly, but

I've got a present for you.

He's a married woman, you know.

No, it's for both of you. Oh.

Where do you get them?

Contacts. I hope you're not a spiv on
the quiet.

Dave! Have you forgotten Gary saved your
life last week? So everybody keeps

telling me.

Well, I've been doing a bit of liaison
with the Yanks, you know. They've got

bananas coming out of their ears.

What Yanks?

They're not in the war?

Not officially, no.

Anyway, tuck in.

Plenty more where they came from.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, no, not here. You'll
start a riot.

Later, then.

Sarah, anything else you're planning on
doing later?

Oh, well, we normally listen to the
wireless on a Friday night.

Oh, only last time you said about going
dancing.

Don't you know there's a war on?

Dancing. Well, that's good for morale.

Yeah, and Donna wouldn't mind, Dad. Oh,
no.

I'd have minded if your mum had gone
dancing when I was up to me neck in muck

and bullets.

She did, though. What? Yeah, she used to
go tea dancing up the Royal.

I never bloody well knew.

Oi! Lady's present.

She kept the secret.

Go on, tell me.

Well, it's not good enough.

Looks like I can't go then, Gary.

How old are you?

Oi, you don't ask a lady her age.

I'm 25.

Well, I would have thought that's old
enough to make your own mind up.

Have a banana.

Terrence!

What are you doing?

Have you got brains?

Oh, no, it's all the rage in Hollywood.

What's that in the Foxtrot?

Oh, I'm sorry. I can't do ordinary
dances anymore.

What do you mean you can't do them
anymore?

Oh, just a bit of an accident I had in
the States. What do you like?

Oh, a gin and it, if they've got any
here.

Can I have a gin and it and a lighter?

I didn't know you smoked.

Oh, well, I've done in front of Daddy.
He thinks it isn't ladylike.

Well, they're very bad for your health.

Do me a favour. Who told you that?

Well, you mark my words. One day they'll
put health warnings on the packets.

Anyway... Everyone knows they're good
for your nerves.

And there is no point worrying about a
cough carrying you off when a bomb could

land on top of you any second.

I suppose.

Oh, sorry.

Have you got my number? Yeah? Oh, great.

Thank you. Thank you.

What happened in America, then?

Oh, just a bit of a car crash. You know
how it is.

You're driving in the Indianapolis 500
and you hit a hairpin bend at 75, cast

somersaults, you wake up in hospital
with both legs in traction.

I'm all right now.

It took six months to learn how to walk,
but I can't do the dances, except the

slow ones.

You sure you're not pulling my leg? No,
no, really.

Like I say, I'm all right on the slow
ones.

I knew it.

You're just looking for an excuse for a
smooch. Oh, I'm sorry, Gary, but... But

you're a married woman, aren't you?

Elevenpence eight, please.

Elevenpence eight? God, they know how to
charge you, haven't they?

So,

I'll see you right then.

You're Donald.

He's... well... He's a quiet chap,
really.

He used to work in the custard powder
factory.

I know it's not as glamorous as your
life, but he's a good bloke, and he

wait for the call -up. He volunteered.

Only thing to get away from custard
powder, I expect.

I worry about him, though.

I mean, over there, in Africa, he's very
fair -skinned.

He used to get some struggle picking.

Well, they probably keep him off hot
-picking duties.

And he knows when the war's going to
finish.

Well, I'd reckon spring 1945, but I
wouldn't be surprised if the Italians

chuck it in in 43.

You don't think the war's going to last
five more years, do you?

Just an informed guess.

I know what your game is.

You're trying to persuade me to be
unfaithful to Donald. This Canadian

tried the same routine on me a couple of
months ago.

No.

Did it work?

No, it did not, you cheeky harrow.

How about you?

Sure you haven't got a wife tucked away
in Cricklewood?

Cross my heart.

The woman I'd marry hasn't even been
born yet.

What?

You've never even been involved with
anyone?

Well, there was someone in America.

I thought it was going to work out, but
she started doing this correspondence

course.

Took up all of their time, saw less and
less of each other.

What was the name?

Marilyn Monroe.

That's a nice name.

Sounds like one of them film star names.

Yeah, yeah, I suppose it does.

But besides this Marilyn, you've never
been tempted?

No, I never said that.

I was tempted the minute I walked into
your dad's pub.

But you're a married woman.

And don't you forget it.

Oh,

you're going to ask me out for a dance,
then?

Thought I wasn't allowed any swear
words.

Oh, I've changed my mind.

Woman's privilege.

Your poor feet.

Oh, it was worth it. I'm walking on air,
really.

I have often walked down this street
before, but the pavement always

stays... beneath my feet before.

Gary, that's lovely.

Is that one that you wrote?

Yeah. Yeah, it just came to me on the
phone.

I'm not sure the tune's right. Oh, I
love the tune.

Gary, I've had a terrific time.

Yeah, me too.

Cos, er... Well, life hasn't been much
fun lately.

Er, me neither.

I've got to turn down for a job.

Really?

You?

Can't say.

Very hush -hush. Oh.

I'm surprised you haven't been called up
to do concert parties for Ensa.

Well, that was a job I didn't get.

On account of the dancing.

Still, you did all right on the slow
numbers.

No, Gary, um... It wouldn't be fair on
Donald.

Just an affectionate goodnight kiss.

Yeah.

But you know where they lead.

I mean, I'm young.

I'm healthy.

I've got needs and passions.

It'd be so easy to give in to them.

Wouldn't it?

After all, you're talented, interesting,
well -travelled.

But I've got this.

So, all right, maybe Donald is quiet,
shy, gentle, wouldn't say boo to a

Maybe he doesn't have your way with
words.

But he's still my husband.

What the bloody hell do you think you're
doing with my wife?

Well, he's not gentle, shy and retiring
anymore, is he?

What's happened to you?

Why, do you care?

Gary, of course I care.

What's happened?

Well, you remember that theme pub I told
you about where the landlord fell down

the open trap door and banged his head
to stop breathing and I had to give him

the kiss of life?

How could I forget?

Yeah, well, I was just passing it. You
said you'd never find it again. Well, I

was wrong, wasn't I?

Anyway, I popped in.

I was made very welcome.

I made a pleasant change.

Then they got very busy. I offered to
help out behind the bar and didn't know

the trap door was open.

And now you want me to give you the kiss
of life?

No, that won't be necessary, thank you.

Gary? How long are you going to go on
punishing me about your promotion

interview? You should have told me. I
know.

You're right.

I'm seriously thinking about resigning
tomorrow.

Oh, that's just stupid. No, they should
never have put me in that position.

And they should have given you the job.
You're the best man.

Even if you have got crap dress then.

You mean that?

About the job?

Of course I mean it.

I love you, Gary.

Despite my crap dress sense?

I prefer you without your clothes on,
actually.

Oh, come on, Gary.

Let's go and do what you do best.

Yvonne, I'm not putting up a satellite
dish at this time of night.

That's better.

Sweetheart.