All language subtitles for goodnight_sweetheart_s04e02_in_the_mood

Good night, sweetheart.

All my prayers are for you. Good night,

sweetheart. I'll be watching all you.

Tears and parting may make us alone.

But with the coming, a new day will
come.

Toad cuck, rice cake sliced and cooked
in beef stock.

Pinday tock, green onions and pork in a
pancake.

Sounds nice.

Name nyong.

Noodles in cold soup with vinegar.

Mustard, beef, cucumber, boiled eggs and
slices of pear.

Pibim bap, chezo bap and pambap.

Things in baps, I suppose.

Oh, and Kongbat.

Kongbat.

Homicidal fang -toothed ape trapped in a
flowery roll.

Ha! Ha!

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Ha! Ha!

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Sorry, there's bound to be a McDonald's
somewhere in Korea.

I'm not very well, Gary, and it was sex
with you that caused it.

I'm a refugee from the tireless wrath of
Stella.

Is this by way of being a safe house?

Yvonne's throwing up. She blames me.

So, all is not harmony and accord?

Well, sex is a cruel plot, pregnancy is
hell, and all men are bastards.

Mild banter by Stella's standards.

Courier. Hmm.

Yvonne. Courier. Yvonne.

Yvonne. Courier. To what end?

I told you.

Sim Yong wanted to do a stint at head
office.

Three week trip.

They say it's going to be a great
opportunity.

Well, it'll be a great opportunity to
eat pickled cabbage and roast dog.

There's no reason for it, you know.

Reason for what?

Sickness.

Sickness during pregnancy.

No reason for it at all.

I can bloody hear you, Ronald Croft.

It's psychological, delusional, a
figment, you might say.

A try -on? Not as such, no.

Physiologically, you can't argue with
the symptoms.

Or the vomit.

Or that.

But it's a state of mind. It's an
outward manifestation of an emotional

condition. It's fear of flying.

It's a nervous rash.

That's why Gareth Southgate missed.

Can I see a log? Yes.

They're in the kitchen. Forget it.

All right, I'm good.

Whoa!

Brilliantly held by Ron Weecroft at
third slip.

A delusional psychological figment.

I wish it were yours.

You wish it was Ron's?

Wish it were his or else yours.

It is mine, isn't it? I mean, I wish he
were pregnant or you and then you'd

know. Have I been unsympathetic?

I seem to remember clammy hands and
indecent proposals at three o 'clock

morning.

You were feeling better?

Only for a minute.

Yeah, well.

So, Yvonne, I hear you're planning a
wise career move.

I said, I hear you're planning... 27.

What? 27.

You're the 27th person to have made that
joke.

Gary, I'm going to bed.

Can I bring you anything?

Petey James and a Cumberland sausage.

I thought she'd say that.

Stella phoned earlier.

She said if you happen to turn up here,
she won't be home till very late, so

please don't call the police out.

Why would she say that?

Because last time I called the police
out.

You were worried?

No, I wasn't. She's having an affair. I
wanted to embarrass her.

I'll be sure of that.

She's changed her perfume, raised her
hemline and deepened her cleavage.

She walks around with a faint but
unmistakable smile most of the time.

It's the smile of a woman who has
recently had a thorough seeing -to and

expecting more in the not -too -distant
future.

Seings -to, thorough, perfunctory or
even partial, have not been a feature of

our marriage for many a moon, which is
why I'm so often cheesed off, tanked up

or volcanically randy.

I'll finish this and then I'll call the
police out.

Don't go.

Why do you say that?

Because you don't want to go.

How do you know?

I'm not an entirely insensitive person,
Yvonne.

Call it male intuition, but I catch the
haunted look beneath your brave smile.

I hear what you really mean, echoing
like a faint melody beneath the

of your enthusiasm.

I was also ear -wigging when you were on
the phone to Wendy.

You said you'd rather go nude bungee
jumping in real.

Oh, Gary.

Could you hold this, please? I think I'm
going to be sick.

What, Gary's son?

Do you?

Uh, yeah. Thanks, Chris.

Well, I've got good news and I've got
bad news.

Eggs are off the ration, but there
aren't any eggs.

Oh, thrashy. Tommy Trinder.

No, the bad news is that Rommel is still
on the offensive.

And the good news is I've got a
fortnight off work.

Gary! We could go on holiday. That's
wonderful.

I know.

It's been like that for a couple of
days. One minute's sunshine, then

the water works.

Mood swings.

Lovely.

Glamilla.

No, it's a characteristic of pregnancy,
Reg. You know, up and down, to and fro.

Is it?

Right.

Strange business, expecting.

Our cat always used to go into the
airing cupboard with a torn -up copy of

Reynolds News.

Not that I'm suggesting that for Phoebe,
mind.

I should hope not.

Never fit in the cupboard, for a start.

Then there's the question of where I'd
write me to Margaret.

It's always baffled me.

What is?

How it, you know... What, Richard?

Gets out.

The baby gets out, you know.

You never think it'll squeeze through.

Oh, why not?

It's such a little thing, isn't it?

The belly button.

Reg, babies aren't born through the
belly button.

No?

I found none of the gooseberry bushes,
are they?

Brought by the stork. Doctor gives your
mum a pill.

No use kidding me, Gary. Man of the
world.

No, you see...

I'm going to have to get some help
behind the bar.

It's not fair to rely on Reg.

I keep bursting into tears. I don't know
why.

It's normal.

Not for me, it's not. It's normal during
pregnancy.

I wish you wouldn't use that word, Gary.

It's not a word for a man to use.

Well, didn't the doctor say anything
about mood swings?

No. He didn't mention music at all.

He said I'd get two oranges a month and
to keep myself regular.

No, mood swings. You know, when you feel
happy one minute and... I would pull in

your leg.

I could see what it means.

I can feel what it means.

And having to pretend to everyone that
it's Donald doesn't make me feel any

better. What about Donald having to
pretend that it's Donald?

You written to him yet?

I haven't had time. I'll get round to
it.

Yeah, well, he's supposed to be killing
Germans. We don't want to take his mind

off the job, do we?

I felt fine the last few days. Now it's
all tears and dry retching.

Looks like I came at just the right
time.

Could you give Reg a hand, Gary? I'm
beginning to feel a bit queasy.

I had a faggot for me dinner and I don't
think it likes me.

Yeah.

Gary, it's just... It makes me a bit
nervous when I think of it all.

Nervous and a bit sad.

Especially with Donald having to know
and you being away such a lot of the

Look, it'll be all right, Phoebe. I
promise.

I'll be there to hold your hand all the
way.

Not while I'm having it.

Of course.

Of course I will.

I'm the dad. I want to see my baby born.

Gary Sparrow, I'd never let you see me
like that. What are you thinking of?

It would be me and the district nurse,
thank you very much.

Anyway, supposed to be Donald's,
remember?

Yeah. Yeah, that's a bit I don't like.

It's my kid. I don't like having to
pretend. Well, you'll have to start

it. I'll lose my regulars pretty sharp
if they found out I was a fallen woman.

Can you go now, please? I think I'm
going to be sick.

And I don't want you to see me do that
either.

If you can go to the dry cleaners, I'll
give you the ticket.

Little Arthur's arriving in the morning,
but you'll be at the shop, so I'll be

here for that.

Pick up the wallpaper book. That's you
again.

And defining as your way of saying,
Yvonne, you're pregnant and need a

and I'm here for you. I appreciate it. I
feel much better.

And if you remember not to put creases
in my jeans, there might be a treat in

store for you later on. Ooh.

Um, little Arthur?

Yeah? Well, that would be little Arthur
as opposed to big Arthur, wouldn't it?

Who? Well, my question exactly.

Who? Have you been drinking?

No, but I think I'm about to start.
Look, let's try again.

Little Arthur is arriving tomorrow.

Yes, that's right. He is.

Right, no, good, no, that's fine. I've
got that.

Who is he?

Little Arthur.

Your nephew and godson, the child whose
moral and spiritual welfare you are

pledged to monitor.

That little Arthur. Right, OK.

Staying here with us?

You've forgotten.

I never knew.

I told you!

Yvonne, forgetfulness is typical of
pregnancy. It's not your fault.

An orderly approach to life's affairs is
no match for chaotic hormones.

Alison and Craig want to get away on
their own for the weekend. I told you

They need to re -examine the dynamic in
their relationship in terms of its

emotional constituents.

Well, that's what the lady at Relate
said, anyway.

Yvonne, you did not tell me.

I did.

They're going to a hotel in deepest
Devon. I told you that, too. They can't

exactly re -examine each other's dynamic
with a kid hanging about, so I said

we'd look after Arthur for the weekend.

Be a chance for us to look after a
little one. You know, pros and cons,

expect, likely pitfalls.

I told you that.

I didn't tell you that, did I?

No, Yvonne, you didn't.

You don't mind?

Well, I mean, I'm going to be at the
shop tomorrow, but Sunday's OK, yeah.

How old is he now? About three?

Going on six.

It's a long time since we've seen him.

You really don't mind.

I mean, we're not exactly experienced in
the business of childcare, are we? It'd

be a chance for us to get some practice
in.

Yeah, sort of dummy run.

How long are you going to be with that
ironing?

Two box of shorts and a wire front.

You are feeling better, aren't you?

I think I'm through the nausea tunnel.

Delightful thought.

Oh, and what sort of treats?

In store for me later on.

I might let you get your hands on me
underwear.

Don't forget me French knickers.

As if I could.

Well, that's not the only one I've got
in there.

Lits and pieces. Hello.

Gary, I feel dreadful. You're going to
have to take over.

Take over.

Arthur, you're going to have to take him
for the morning at least.

I can't just leave the shop.

I've got to get the proofs of the
catalogue back to Ron. I've got

You were feeling fine last night.

Gary, I am ill. I am barfing every
minute on the minute. Under the

circumstances, I'm not best placed to be
Mary Poppins. At present, Bitspot has

an entirely different connotation for
me.

Yvonne, I can't just close up.

Oh, all right, all right, listen.

Phone Astra Cabs and get Dave to bring
him over.

There's a train set here he can play
with.

I can't put him in a taxi.

He'll be fine. Dave's great with kids.
Don't worry.

Oh, all right.

Arthur, you're going to go on a little
adventure.

Can you be safe again, please?

Here we are.

Uncle Gary.

Oh, thanks, Dave.

I've had a very entertaining ride with
this one.

I'm told that his mum calls his dad Mr
Floppy and Aunty Yvonne puts her head

down the lap.

Well, it's so difficult to get the young
entertained, isn't it?

Arthur, there's a train set through
there if you want to play with it.

That's a tenner, guv.

Oh.

That's a tenner without the tip, guv.

With me?

Yes. But I'm captain of your dance team.

Oh, nostalgia doesn't stretch that far,
you know.

Ta, you're a mate.

You all right, Arthur?

Yeah.

Where do you want these?

What are they?

You wanted posters board -mounted.
You've got posters board -mounted. Oh,

just... Stick them over there.

Were you drunk when you laid out this
catalogue?

Gary, I cannot deny that from time to
time strong drink does pass the lips of

Ron Weecroft the man.

But Ron Weecroft the printer is made of
sterner stuff.

When carrying the baton passed down
through inky -fingered generations by

noble Caxton, alcohol is a stranger to
me.

I print, therefore, I am.

Well, I've got a gasp gasp, a Russian
crook and a rap warden's pelmet.

I was drunk.

I shall be drunk again.

I'm sad, I'm confused and I'm tense.

Being drunk helps me to relax.

Well, it helps me fall over.

Listen, you're tense.

I've got two pregnant women riding an
emotional seesaw and I spend half my

in a war home.

Perhaps if I'd acceded to her requests
for sex in unlikely domestic locations.

If I'd ravished her on the washing
machine during the spin cycle.

If I were slender.

If I were dashingly handsome.

If I resembled Linford Christie in slow
motion.

Then perhaps Stella wouldn't be dropping
them for some Lothario with a turbo

-driven twin tub.

I don't know that. True, Ron. And keep
your voice down in front of the kids.

What kid?

Arthur.

Oh, my God. What?

Oh, my God.

What?

I'm looking after my nephew, Arthur.
Well, I'm not looking after my nephew,

Arthur. He was there. He was right there
playing with the train set.

Well, he could have gone out the front
door. We'd have seen him.

He got through the gate.

No, it's impossible. They're security
gates. You'd better get your arm

What does he look like?

I don't know.

What do you mean, don't know?

Well, I haven't seen him for two years
until today.

Yvonne's feeling lousy, so she sent him
over in a cab.

I was looking at the proof. I didn't
really look at him.

This is impossible.

No, it's not.

He's gone back.

No, only I can go back.

You don't know that, Gary.

Think of it. The innocence and open
imagination of a child.

No, it's not possible.

No?

Where is he, then?

Acceptance.

Belief. The power of the mind.

I shall go back.

He's not there.

Hope you find him. I've got to find him.
If I don't, then by the time little

Arthur comes to be born, he'll be 54.

Acceptance.

Belief. The power of the mind.

I shall go back.

You haven't seen a little boy wearing
strange clothing, have you? What do you

mean, strange?

Power Rangers T -shirt, Junior
Wranglers, Reeboks, anything like that.

I can't, Phoebe. He's been apprehended
for attempting to purchase an

intoxicating beverage for an underage
person.

Too wet himself.

Contrary to the... something... What's
the name?

Arrest. The first arrest for seven
months.

I'm letting you all for the caution. On
account I'm not in uniform.

Where did you come from?

Are you lost?

You're lost, aren't you?

How would you fancy some sausage and
mash?

sausage and mash and ginger beer.

But first, a bath in the sink.

Come on, my lad.

Thank you.

Hey, you, Goldie.

Have you seen a little kid about five
wearing American clothes?

What's it worth?

Have you?

Oh, yeah, American clothes.

We're not that way.

Oh, give me that. Oh, yeah!

What's up, Gary?

It's not the invasion, is it? I need a
policeman.

I'm a policeman.

No, I mean a proper... No, all right,
you'll have to do it.

It's a missing kid. I was looking after
my nephew... My neighbour's kid, and

he's wandered off.

We won't come to any harm, Gary.
Probably fans and friends.

What could happen to him?

Yeah, of course.

Walked on in London.

Kid wandering around the streets,
perfectly safe.

Thank God it's not the 90s.

No, I've got to find him, Reg. I was
left in charge.

All right, then.

Let's see.

Child. Name of?

Arthur. Male or female?

I have to comply with the formalities.

Arthur. Lost in the vicinity of?

Duckett Passage. Description?

Well, five, nearly six, and fairish
here, I think.

And small.

Well, he would be small, Gary.

Almost all boys of five are small.

Small. Fairish hair.

Very dirty.

No, I didn't say that.

No, I did.

He's in the sink.

He's in the what?

Sink.

Phoebe's given him a scrub down.

He wandered in looking lost.

I had him in custody. She gave him
bangers and a mesh and a ginger beer.

Kids get away with murder these days.

You found him. Gary, are you all right?

I am now.

You know who he is?

Ah, nephew.

Mrs. Blott's nephew.

Mrs. Blott's neighbour's nephew.

I said I'd look after him for a bit and
I just took my eye off him. You naughty

boy. Well, I'll take him back.

He was covered with mud, so I put his
clothes in the copper.

Found him on a dad's old shirt.

Oh, right. Yes, I'll explain.

Well, come on.

He's got no shoes on his feet. They're
thick with mud. I threw them out into

yard. No shoes.

Right, I'll... I'll explain that.

Oh, you will be back later, Gary.

Huh? Only I'm feeling much better now.

Much better.

Oh!

Yes, I promise.

Well, come for a minute.

Now, don't bother saying anything to
anyone, Arthur, because they will never

believe you.

favorite candy, huh?

Blimey, that was quick.

You're trying to catch me while I'm in
the mood.

No, no, just looking.

Well, you haven't lost him again.

No, no, no, no. No, of course not.

Just looking.

Looking for what, Gary?

Looking for something he dropped.

Well, what?

Something he... Money.

Some money.

Some pocket money I gave him.

How much?

A couple of quid. It was nothing. Look,
got to go.

A couple of quid?

Pennies. A couple of pennies.

Two P. Two D.

Tuppence.

I couldn't bring him back. He
wouldn't... go through.

Odd thing, time.

Einstein made a career out of it.

And then he ran off. He just disappeared
down some back doubles and I... What am

I going to tell Yvonne? My own theory
for what it's worth is that time is a

river flowing on into infinity.

A river of no return.

An ever -rolling stream that bears all
its sons away.

Yeah, in this case, the five -year -old
son of Alison and Craig, who are likely

to be ever so slightly hacked off that
their little nipper has disappeared into

the midst of bloody time.

What?

What what?

What am I going to tell Yvonne?

I'm sorry, Yvonne, but little Arthur has
stumbled into a time warp.

No, he's not lost, he's just gone
before.

I'm sorry, Yvonne, but little Arthur's
wandering around Wartorn Whitechapel.

Now I'll pop back and have another look
for him tomorrow.

I'm sorry, Yvonne, but... Look,

look, I was just proving the catalogue
was wrong, right? And we turned round

suddenly... Who's he?

I mean, oh, he's come back.

No thanks to you, Gary.

The constable found him wandering the
streets.

Knowing what a useless pillock you are,
I took the precaution of putting our

name, address and telephone number in
his pocket.

Anything could have happened. This
doesn't bode well, does it? First try at

fatherhood and you misplaced the child.

I had hoped you'd take our trial run
rather more seriously, but I'd

Arthur was manufactured in May 1990.

About 50 years too late for you to take
an interest.

Any better on it?

I am, thank you. Much better.

Not unless it'll do you any good.

Wendy and I are going out. You're
babysitting. I expect you'll manage

He'll be asleep and I'll tie your leg to
the sofa.

No, not tonight. I've got to go back to
the shop.

I'm expecting a delivery.

Don't try it, Gary.

Don't even think about it. You are up to
your neck in poo and I am having a

night off.

From you.

Thank you once again, Constable.

All's well that ends well.

A little what's -it, safe and sound.

She'd give me a hamburger and a
strawberry milkshake.

On my grandad's day, it would have been
a click round the air.

Kids get away with murder these days.

All right, mate.

Enjoy the hamburger.

Great. And the milkshake. Great.

I think I'm going to be sick.

Great.

Sleep will banish sorrow.

Good night, sweetheart.

Till we meet tomorrow.

Dreams enfold you.

In memory I'll hold you.

Good night, sweetheart.