All language subtitles for goodnight_sweetheart_s05e06_we_dont_want_to_lose_you

Good night, sweetheart. All my prayers
are for

you. Good night, sweetheart.

I'll be watching all you.

Tears and cutting may make us alone.

But with the dawn,

a new day.

Yvonne, can you... Coming, coming.

I'm coming, for God's sake. I can't...
Ouch!

Chrissie, it's simple. I'll do Vogue,
I'll do Marie Claire, I'll do Woman's

Hour, I'll do My Kind of Day. What?
Someone at the door. Odd job, Tarantino.

I won't do Melvin Bragg until he gets
new hair.

And I can't do OK because we're still
living in a slum. Now, the launch is for

range of his and her products, right?

Is that the car? Yes, it's the car.

Good. So we need couples.

Iman and Jemima, Mick and Jerry, Bruce
and Demi.

Gary and Yvonne. What?

Tony and Cherie, right, you got it.

No, Paris, Milan tomorrow, then Madrid,
then home. You can get me five pennies.

I had to come all the way downstairs,
Yvonne.

Did you?

To open the front door.

Well, that does make sense, Gary, seeing
as the front door is downstairs.

Try not to talk crap. It's habit
-forming.

Shaving twice? Hot dates?

Um, no, I forgot this morning. Makes me
itch.

You...

I'm here today talking to Yvonne
Sparrow, Supreme Intergalactic Commander

Yvonne Sparrow Enterprises, PLC, as she
launches her new range of body care

products. Yvonne, I understand that no
animals were used during the testing of

your products.

That's absolutely correct, yes. All my
products are tested solely and

exclusively on my husband, Gary.

We rub perfume in his eyeballs, put
bromide in his eyeballs, and cut off

Thank you.

Maybe the time in Paris.

And Milan.

Coming. Coming.

Yeah, coming, for God's sake. Ouch!

I'm not going to be good.

OK, but just a beer.

Oh, Pitsy.

I was going to suggest a 12 -pack and a
bucket of curry.

I brought this.

Baywatch. The director's cut.

However, I see that you're pressing a 54
-year -old dinner suit, so I presume

you're going out somewhere posh at the
other end of the century.

What have you done to your finger?

Ironed it.

Why?

Haven't you noticed? They get all
wrinkly around the knuckle.

First aid box?

Yeah, far covered.

Will you look at me, Ron? What do you
see?

I mean, apart from a bloke with a third
-degree digital burn and no trousers.

I'd be an attractive, sophisticated man
in the prime of life.

I see a man full of wit, good taste and
charm.

Yeah, all right, all right. A man whom
fortune has smiled upon.

A man who, despite his many advantages
in life, still manages to laugh at

himself.

Otherwise... Why would he be walking
around in his underwear, ironing his

finger? Give it here.

I'm a nobody, you know.

Everybody's a nobody, Gary, except those
people who are somebody, and that

excludes almost everybody.

Yvonne is living a life of non -stop
glamour.

Models, famous faces, pop stars
endorsing her products.

You know, she's got the Spice Girls
rubbing themselves all over with ginseng

scruffer. Are there any bits they can't
reach?

Nobody knows who I am.

Mr Anonymous.

I could be invisible, you know. Nobody
notices me.

Who said that?

Is he looking at you or at me?

With you in that dress, why bother to
ask?

That sales girl had a silver tongue.

Madam, suits it perfect. It's a garment
ought to cling.

Which it does, as I can see. All I've
got to do is sneeze, you see, a hell of

lot more.

He's staring at you.

They stared through the liver. Now
they're bloody staring through the

I told you, it's your bosom in that
dress. You know what the French are

Gary, he's saluted. Even the French
don't salute a bosom.

Anyway, it's not the only one giving you
a funny look.

What? Haven't you noticed?

Especially him.

Over there, with the hairy face.

Did you notice when we came in?

What?

When I took off my top coat.

What? Was I... done up?

You did look a bit tired, yeah.

No, done up, not done in.

Um, excuse me, the bill, please.

Do you think he's all right?

Seems nice enough, apart from the
dandruff and the wart.

You know what I mean.

Michael's fine.

Margie's with him. I know.

When we stay out all night up west, I'll
get worried in case of the raid or

something. There won't be.

How can you always be so certain?

I'll let you know when to worry, trust
me.

D -Day, that's the next big event.

What's D -Day?

Surely your bill has been paid, madam.

Merci. Sorry, sorry, they couldn't find
my coat.

Car's outside, old boy.

Blackwell's voice.

It's not for us, mate. I wish it was.
Well, it is.

No, it's not.

We leave the restaurant, no fuss, and we
get into the car, or I'll shoot you

down like a dog.

Macduff, MI5.

My friends call me Tufty.

The old facial adornment, you know.

Tufty, not Tufty.

Sorry about the cloak and dagger. A bit
dramatic, but that's the way we like to

do things here at MI5.

Black car, revolver, get in or I'll
shoot you down like a dog.

Your sparrow. Where's Phoebe?

A little woman's been given a cuppa.
Pretty creature.

Pretty frock. Bosoms all sort of pushed
up together.

What's going on?

Among your identity papers, Mr Sparrow,
Gary, may I call you Gary, which are all

fake, as I'm sure you know, is an MI5 ID
card. And noticing this, it didn't take

me long to deduce that you must be a
spy.

And for that reason, could look forward
to being shot in the very near future.

Last request, goodbye, blindfold.

Nothing. I'm not a spy.

Can you prove it?

No. No. And I know why.

You do?

While you were scoffing away at the Cafe
Royal with the delectable Mrs. Sparrow,

I had men asking questions about you.

In particular, we spoke to PC Deadman,
until recently seconded to Scotland

Oh, good. My fate's sealed, then.

Deadman confirmed that you were an MI5
operative, had flown secret missions

behind enemy lines, and had access to
all manner of classified information.

Wonderful load of toss.

Love it.

Can I make a statement?

State away, old boy.

I'm not a spy.

I'm a time traveller.

In effect, I haven't been born yet.

I travel back to wartime London from the
year 1998, an era when men have walked

on the moon, people can have their
hearts replaced, and a pint of bitter

two quid.

Very good, old boy.

Beer, two quid.

Oh, top -hole stuff. In a minute you'll
be telling me when the war's going to

end and who wins.

You'll even tell me you know all about
the plans for D -Day.

Which would let me know at once that you
really are a spy.

D -Day, what's that?

Day before E -Day? Day after C -Day?

We know what you are, old man.

We've got you taped.

Bit of a wide boy, are we? Bit of a
spiv?

False papers, impersonating secret
intelligence officer, having a bloody

war while your chums risk everything for
the Empire. Up to me, old boy, I'd

shoot you anyway. Still might.

So... One to save your neck, Gary.

Alternative to certain death.

On balance, all things considered, as
long as it's a reasonable offer, yes.

Right. Take a look at this.

Who's that?

Oh, it's me.

Well, it's not me. It's a fake photo.

My head on the body of an officer in the
French army.

It is Colonel Henri Dupont, General de
Gaulle's most trusted military advisor.

All of him?

Even the face?

Especially the face.

Uncanny, what?

He's my double.

Apart from the one old Coleman Tash,
yes.

But we can see about that.

More importantly, you are his double.

You get legitimate papers, Gary.

Full MI5 cover.

And you can pick up your life where you
left off.

Pick up my life?

I'm not leaving my life anywhere. I like
to have it by me at all times. I just

want you to do a little job for us.

Piece of cake.

Easy peasy.

Job for a girl, really.

Well, a girl with a moustache.

So, agreed?

Where's your right hand? What's the
alternative?

Firing squad basement, five minutes'
time.

I do solemnly swear. I do solemnly
swear. Never to reveal.

Never to reveal.

Sorry.

Details, only secret information given
to me. In particular, details of

security concerning the proposals for
the D -Day landings at Pas -de -Calais.

Um... Anything... Um... Blah, blah,
blah, et cetera, et cetera, D -Day

Pas -de -Calais. On pain of death.

On pain of... Death.

Death.

Dib, dib, dib, we'll dob, dob, dob.

It's eerie.

Bit an imagery here, we hear.

Hey, Gary, I nearly wet myself when
Harry Chops pulled out that gun.

Yeah, a lot of people react like that,
you know. People who haven't seen

firearms up close before.

You were scared, no?

Me? Oh, no.

I know the old black car revolver, get
in or I'll shoot you down like a dog

routine.

Done it a few times myself.

Then why were you crying?

So, when do you set off?

Set off?

On a secret mission.

Does it involve D -Day?

D -Day?

Who mentioned D -Day to you?

You did.

At dinner. Next big event, you said.

Did I?

God, look, Phoebe, you mustn't tell
anyone about that, OK?

No. No, all right.

So, you've got to pretend to be this
frog colonel, fool a Jerry's, lead him

the garden.

Well, I haven't been fully briefed yet.
I've got a meeting with Tofty and Dupont

tomorrow. It's quite exciting.

I was scared at first, then worried, you
know, when they sat me outside with a

cup of tea and a Gary Baldy. I didn't
know whether they were torturing you or

anything. You thought they might be
torturing me?

Well, I did wonder.

And you sat outside with a cup of tea
and a Gary Baldy, did you?

I didn't enjoy it very much.

Well, that makes all the difference.

Oh, come on, Gary, I'm proud of you.

All those stories you've told me about
secret missions and such and seeing your

secret headquarters a while back and now
all these guns and cars and stuff.

And you, so calm, even though you're off
to face certain danger.

Danger?

No, I don't think there'll be any
danger.

I mean, they didn't mention any danger.

Well, might be, I suppose.

Fair bit, probably.

Still, I'm no stranger to danger,
Phoebe.

No danger stranger.

Danger specialist, really.

Hazard wizard, well known for it.

Um, I haven't finished that.

I thought we could take it to bed.

You know, a little pick -me -up.

Oh.

No, I don't suppose there'll be any
danger.

I mean, they didn't mention any danger.

Danger? Of course there'll be danger,
mate.

There's always danger in such
situations.

The whole point of a decoy is to draw
flak from the real target.

Flak, target, get it?

The Isle of Wight.

What? My mission, Ron, and I have
already decided to accept it, is to go

Isle of Wight and generally bop about
the place being Colonel Henri Dupont.

I will not be a target, there will be no
flak.

My presence will be reported to the
Nazis via the known network of spies,

will assume that the colonel is at a bit
of a loose end, where, in fact, he will

be attending briefings on the D -Day
landings.

It's an appointment with Nemesis, Gary.

A date with fate.

If everything goes according to the
plot, you will be eyeball to eyeball

the Grim Reaper.

Plot? What are you talking about?

You've seen all those black and white
films.

The decoy is always dispensable.

Look, Ron, I cannot die in 1944.

Whatever is going to happen has
happened. And here I am, not dead.

That's before you go on your mission.

How do you know the future you've got
now is the same future you're going to

have if something in the past is
different from the last time you went

the future?

Look, Ron, if nothing else, I want to do
my bit.

Me being Dupont's double might be a
really important moment in the war.

If I didn't go back, then maybe the D
-Day landings would have been delayed.

Or maybe the Germans would have got wind
of the Allied plans.

Look, it's only the Isle of Wight.

What if this network of Nazi spies
kidnap you, take you to a secret

with a U -boat, take you back to Berlin,
hand you over to the Gestapo, who

torture you for weeks on end for secrets
you don't even know?

Ron, Ron, that can't possibly happen.

Members of this network of Nazi spies
kidnap me and take me to a secret

rendezvous with the Hitler.

And then on to Berlin, where they hand
me over to the Gestapo, who torture me

for weeks on end for secrets I don't
even know. Gary, Gary, that can't

happen.

Monsieur, I think you go my house and
make love with my wife. She

not know the difference.

Except for the hairy bits.

You have a problem with the hairy bits?

No, I mean the... Ah!

This will be the giveaway, no?

Oh, don't worry, Colonel.

MI5 disguises are the best in the world.

So, monsieur, you will to the Isle of
Wigget.

What?

You dare to make the pretense that you
are me on Isle of Wigget.

Isle of Wigget? Yes, absolutely.

Will your wife be there?

Oh, I think you no enjoy be with my
wife.

She have no funny.

No funny, no joke. How you say, no sense
of humour.

She's not funny.

Are you married, monsieur?

Oh, yes, very, ever so married.

And your wife, does she have the... Oh,
yes, yes, always got a smile on her

face.

I pray you return to it safely.

Mon brave.

Why wouldn't I return safely?

Take her speech, Gary.

Deceit, dirty tricks and disguises are
good.

One Ronald Coleman moustache and
moustache operative to room 23.

Thank you.

And why did he say, mon brave?

What's brave about it? Nothing, Gary.

No bravery involved, nothing that
couldn't be done by a craven coward, a

snivelling crybaby, a pansy -pansy -poo
-pants.

I just want to be prepared, that's all.
I don't think you'll find me lacking in

the hairy bits department.

Good man, Gary. Now, here's the full
plan.

Fishing smack, anchors off the Isle of
Wight at 2300 hours.

Rowing boat to shore, car takes you to
GHQ.

Next few days, bit of a jolly round and
about.

Proof of inspection, march past, open
car through the street sort of thing.

of dinner in the mess, brief appearance
on Pathé News, home by Friday.

Oh.

No chance for a bit of action, then?

No hand -to -hand with Nazi spies?

No thrilling chase as my staff car is
pursued through narrow country lanes by

Gestapo agents?

Sorry, old man, no such luck.

Oh, well, damn bad show.

Reg,

that means, will you go to bed with me
tonight?

I learned it off a bloke who'd been at
Mons.

No wonder that onion seller threw his
bike at me.

So, you're not him, then?

Not that Colonel Dupont.

Only had me fooled, the tash. I can't
get it off. It's the bloody MI5 glue.

And I told Phoebe it was all top secret.

Anyway, just a bit of routine, innit?
Nice holiday, bit of play acting.

Not the sort of life and death carry -on
you're used to. A bit dull, really.

Unless you're kidnapped by Nazi agents
and smuggled to Berlin, where Gestapo

thugs torture you for weeks on end for
secrets you don't even know.

Yes, Red, I've got my heart set on
something like that. Any chance of a

Have you started being him already?

Comment, mademoiselle?

Je ne le peux pas, mademoiselle.

Voulez -vous coucher avec moi, monsieur?

Let me bear back a bit of French
mischief.

Gary Sparrow, that Tash, he looked...
Yeah?

Like Ronald Coleman.

It's all part of my Colonel Dupont
disguise, Phoebe, which is top secret,

remember. You know, loose talk and all
that. This operation could change the

entire course of the war.

Well, it all started out very thrilling,
Gary, what with black cars, mistaken

identity and high tension over a Gary
Baldy.

It hasn't come down to much, has it?

Sorry? I'm risking all for my country,
in case you hadn't noticed. I'm about to

become an unsung hero.

Not by spending a few days on the Isle
of Wight.

Unless you're given a black car routine
by some Nazi agents who smuggle you back

to Berlin and hand you over to the
Gestapo. Yes, yes, I know. Everyone

much happier if I was given a manicure
with a pair of pliers.

But not every mission I go on involves
playing cat and mouse with the

More for the pity.

You're lucky. I love the seaside.

Kiss me quick out and a plate of whelps.

That moment when you're wading in and a
wave gets right out the leg of your

codding. Shall I take a shrimping net
and send you a monkey postcard?

I used to stand outside a shop reading
those when I used to go for me week in

Margate.

There's this one where there's this
bloke with a great fat belly in the sea

there's his little kid standing there.

Only the fat bloke's belly's so big he
can't see him.

And he's talking to this woman with a,
you know...

whopping great wobbly upstairs.

And he's saying, I can't find my little
willy.

The funny thing is, the old joke is,
kid's standing right in front

of him.

Sorry to have missed you, it's just that
I was being interrogated by MI5 several

decades ago.

It's a little complicated to explain,
but basically they want me to take on

entire German army single -handed. Of
course, I said I could do with some

So tomorrow, along with Arnold
Schwarzenegger and Jean -Claude Van

going to... What?

Oh.

It's a film. I'm going to see it was
wrong, just asking whether you'd mind.

Why would I mind? Or did you get my
message?

Yeah, yeah, I'll just wait the tape for
you.

I thought you were en route to Madrid.

Should be, will be. I'm taking a later
plane.

So what's this little task?

Simone Sutherland, the model. She's
flying in for the launch.

Everyone's busy, so I need someone to
pick her up from the hotel and take her

the venue.

Make sure she knows the lines.

Lines? Praising the product and such.
What do you think she's paid for?

Oh, right.

I thought maybe all those people
actually enjoyed using sage and onion

Oh, Gary, don't be ridiculous.

You don't really think Nicole and Papa
drive around in tiny hatchbacks, do you?

Details in that envelope. Saturday, OK?

Saturday? Um, well, there's the shop.

Gary, I'm talking about the
international launch of a major product

I think we can sacrifice the proceeds
from the old ration book and ARP

helmets.

Yeah, all right.

I'll be there when you arrive, so just
hand her over to me.

It's all fabulous, Gary.

Advanced sales are double expectations.

We've got celeb coverage. We've got
feature articles and interviews coming

And export orders have increased an
overall 14%. Ask me

why I've postponed my flight.

Why have you postponed your flight? Ask
me why I'm lying here with barely

nothing on, having just enjoyed the
benefits of a eucalyptus eye mask.

All right, why are you lying there? In
postponing my flight, Gary.

I have created a window.

A window through which you might like to
effect an entry.

Oh, right.

Life's been so hectic, Gary. Back and
forth, to and fro. There just isn't

time to fit everything in.

I'd noticed.

And I do have needs, Gary. Just like any
other vital and dynamic businesswoman.

No, there'll be a phone call.

Unplugged. On your mobile. Switched off.

Car to the airport. In three hours.

All right.

Well, I'm looking at the window, Yvonne,
and I am thoroughly enjoying the view.

Oh, never mind looking at the window,
Gary. Get your leg over the sill.

Gary.

Yes?

Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary.

Yes, Yvonne? That was...

I'm sorry?

Well, the nicest possible way.

No wonder you grew this so fast. Your
testosterone must be on red alert.

Never mind looking at the window, Gary.

Let's go for the full house.

That'll be the car.

It'll wait.

The plane won't.

You're right.

Gary Sparrow, I want you to stay exactly
where you are until I get back.

Don't move.

I must go.

The things you do for your country.

This is a badge of honour, Ron. I have a
date with destiny.

Yeah, well, in case it's not quite the
doddle you expect it to be, I got you a

going -away present.

That will stop everything except Akak.

Ron, my mission is danger -free. I'm the
decoy, not the duck.

OK. Famous last words?

Well, there were... Well, take it if you
insist.

I don't want to be ungracious.

It's got a sort of jockstrap bit at the
front.

Delightful, thank you. And a flap at the
back that covers your bum. Right,

I'll... Well, bye then, Ron.

Lastly, a chance to be someone.

No, Gary.

A chance to be someone else.

All set, Gary?

All set.

Raring to go and ready to do my bit.

It's a shame I won't get a crack at
Jerry.

A frightful shame, old boy. Next time,
what?

Now then, time and tide, eh?

Your act starts here.

Chaps on the boat think you're really
Dupont.

As you leave, I shall give you a
cracking salute.

Why?

Establish the deception, old boy. You're
a superior officer.

You outwank me.

So, what's in my head, old man?

Yes, for the eel of the weekend.

But, uh, why are we leaving from Dover?

Oh, Red Henning, old boy.

False trail.

KV, KV.

Good luck.

Eel of Wiggett.

This isn't the bloody Eel of Wiggett.

Bastard. Good night, sweetheart.

Sleep will banish sorrow.

Good night, sweetheart.

Till we meet tomorrow.