All language subtitles for goodnight_sweetheart_s06e09_flash_bang_wallop

Good night, sweet heart.

All my prayers are for you.

Good night, sweet heart.

I'll be watching over you.

Tears and parting may make us alone.

But with the dawn,

a new day is born.

Go on, then. I can't. I feel silly.

There's no one around. Go on. You're
sure?

Don't seem natural to me, throwing up a
drink before you've even swallowed it.

Gary, Reg, you will not believe who I've
just booked for the club on Thursday

night. You've persuaded Gypsy Rosalie to
include us in the British leg of her

European tour?

Silly. I've got something even better
than Gypsy Rosalie. Yes, I know you

but not in front of Reg.

I've just persuaded Noel to come and do
one of his turns.

His turns?

His cabaret stuff.

It'll be here on Thursday.

He knows we'll get a sophisticated Cleon
telling here, so he's promised to

tailor his act accordingly.

Probably won't be sawing a showgirl in
half, then.

No.

Look,

Harry. Yeah?

I won't disturb you, will I, if I just
sit here and read my book?

No, no, of course not. Good.

Because there's nothing like a good book
if they're opening those covers full of

promise, then turning to the first page,
ready to go on a journey wherever the

writer takes you, completely at his or
her command.

Stop! Yeah, can you just read a little
more quietly?

Drowning out John Molson.

Well, I'm sorry, Gary, but I think this
is a little bit more important than the

fate of Arsenal Football Club.

More important than the Arsenal?

I didn't realise there was a meteor on
collision course with the Earth.

If you must know... Yeah, can you tell
me later, now?

If you must know, I've been selected as
the judge for a very prestigious book

prize, the Hanbury Truman Award for non
-fiction.

You? Why?

Why not?

They clearly needed a woman of taste,
culture and refinement.

Actually, it was busy, so they picked
you.

The judging panel is made up of all
sorts.

Academics, celebrities, business people
and Jeremy Paxman.

The last book you read all the way
through was Slapper by Edwina Curry.

I don't normally get the time to do all
the reading I'd like.

Which is actually an advantage, because
I come to this competition untainted

by... By ever having picked up a book.

The problem is, which one to start with?
I mean, the wealth of subjects is

amazing.

Tarzan 2000, how to be a swinger in the
dating jungle.

And the author who bought you foreplay
for dummies.

Bravo 2 -0, the magic eye version.

Michael Palin from Earth to the Moon.

Yeah, well, I think this is Gary Sparrow
from Penthouse to Pub.

Oh, don't worry, it won't disturb you.
I'll take one of these onto the balcony

and start reading.

Noel Coward, he was interesting, wasn't
he?

Yeah, he was, as long as you kept him
off the subject of Mediterranean men.

What?

Nothing.

Oh, I've got it.

Who's that?

Probably Ron. Said he might come round
and watch the game.

I'll leave you two to bathe in your own
testosterone.

Don't disturb me. I am judging.

How's it going?

Terrible. I thought I was over Flick. I
mean, it's been three months.

But the thought of her keeps eating away
at me.

What if she was my soul mate? What if
each person in his entire life only has

one soul mate?

Well, that's obviously nonsense, isn't
it? I mean...

I've got two.

It's hardly reassuring, Gary, implying
that it does that my other perfect

partner is likely to be Helen of Troy,
Saint Joan, or Xena, Warrior Princess.

Actually, I'd settle for Xena.

It's just a question of getting back on
the horse, mate.

And I think I have just found your
riding manual.

Tarzan 2000, how to be a swinger in the
dating jungle.

Oh, thanks, Gary.

This is really going to change my life
without it.

Can I have this?

Yeah, you might as well. It's the best
one in the box. I mean, you need to book

about an old coward. I live next door to
him.

Good Lord.

I never knew he'd done that. Little
devil.

Where do I see him again?

Meeting your mate.

How to avoid jungle breath.

Don't be a cheater. It's like this guy's
been following me around.

You know, this book could really help
me.

That's why it's been nominated for an
award, I expect.

I mean, they don't just pick these
things up, but... Oh, bugger.

But, sir, this book has pictures.

Well, you normally only read books like
that.

Pictures of Noel from his life.

In a biography, fancy.

Age 113.

Oh, bugger.

Noel relaxes with close personal friend
Gary Sparrow, March 1945.

This is awful.

It certainly is. It makes you look like
an anorexic twiggler.

Not the picture.

The fact that it's dated. The fact that
I'm being cuddled by Noel Coward. The

fact that it was taken 17 years before I
was born.

That will be hard to explain when Yvonne
sees it.

Hard to explain?

Lipstick on your collar is hard to
explain.

Calling out another woman's name in bed
is hard to explain.

Appearing in a photograph taken two
decades before you were born is a

zone.

She's going to contact the publisher,
she's going to authenticate the picture,

then she's going to find out about the
time travel, about Phoebe, about my son.

Or you could lose the book.

What? Get rid of it.

That way she'll never see the picture.

Yes, genius.

Of course, there's so many other books
for her to get through, she'll never

notice if one's missing.

The illustrated history of pockets is
really boring.

Have you seen that Noel Coward book?

Reading a bit fast, are you?

How do you mean?

Well, you know, you're supposed to be
judging that poor bloke's book. You

be considering every word, every phrase,
every comma.

Is the typeface sympathetic to the
content?

Are the page numbers centred properly?

You should be reading each page at least
six times minimum.

Don't be a pillock, Gary.

What shall we talk about, eh?

We never talk any more, do we? Remember
when we first met? God, we talked and

talked and talked. Do you remember that?

I remember you begging me for sex.

Yeah, you see, we never do that anymore,
do we?

OK, tonight I'll let you beg me for sex,
all right?

Right now, I'm reading.

OK.

It's nearly dinner time, isn't it? I'll
help you in the kitchen, if you like.

That's all right, I've ordered pizza.

If it doesn't turn up in the next two
minutes, it's free.

Oh.

But have you put plates in the oven?

No. Oh, Gary, would you?

Oh, well, I would, Yvonne. I really
would, only, um, I don't want to.

What? Well, we've got so many plates.
You know, I'll only get the wrong ones,

wouldn't I? If you do it, I'll hold you
back.

If you were any more useless, you'd have
your own page on the Innovations

catalogue.

No, I don't think so.

Then where is it?

What?

My book.

What book?

The book that I didn't see you just
underarm bowl from the sixth floor of

building. Where is it?

Um... Pizza!

Get it? You find my book.

Mr Bannister, he lives downstairs. Oh,
pleased to meet you.

Sorry about the mess.

I've been looking for something. We've
lost it, you see. I have turned this

place upside down. I've looked
everywhere, honestly.

Everywhere.

Except on Mr Bannister's head.

Sorry? I was walking my dog Freckles
downstairs, minding my own business,

suddenly something hit me on my head.
Look!

I've never had a crossword with anyone
in this building. I like to think I'm

rather popular. Why would anyone throw
literature at me?

I'm at a loss to explain. How do you
know it's our book, anyway?

I've stuck a frontispiece on every book,
Gary.

This book belongs to Baroness Sparrow of
Lombard.

I'll have to get them reprinted now.
This book belongs to Baroness Sparrow

should not be hurled from high
buildings.

What?

Do you think I had something to do with
this poor man's accident?

I'm going to have to put you on...

You'll be hearing from my lawyers. And
there is your book.

Thank you.

Yes, shall I just... And I assure you, I
will not let my husband get his hands

on it again.

The book's possessed.

I've tried pulling it out with the
rubbish. I've used it as a briquette on

barbecue. I even tied a pork chop to it
and left it out for freckles.

Now look.

Bloody dog's a vegetarian.

No, that book's indestructible.

It keeps turning up like something out
of a Stephen King story.

You know, there's only another 30 pages
and she's going to see that picture.

Well, can't you just tear out the
picture?

No, then she'll know I had something to
hide.

If only she had been made a judge for
that stupid award.

Hey, then I'd never have got my hands on
my new lifestyle Bible.

I've read it cover to cover.

And?

It's a revelation.

Did you know you can now meet girls
without leaving the comfort of your own

home?

Yes, they're called escorts.

No, computer chat rooms.

Chapter 11, followed by my favourite
chapter, Chapter 12, Prowling the Urban

Jungle.

You're going on the pull in the Bronx?

No, Safeways.

Safeways is the urban jungle.

According to this book, supermarkets are
the number one place to meet unattached

women under 40.

They're better than singles bars.

Plus, you can pick up a loaf.

Sounds very romantic.

Where did you meet?

Oh, over the cheese counter.

Our eyes met across an aged Gorgonzola
and within a few minutes we'd exchanged

loyalty card numbers.

Well, maybe I won't try that. But it
says here, linger among the meals for

if you wish to meet a nice single girl.

Or two supermodels.

I'd settle for that.

You know, it's amazing. I've never been
much of a reader, but it seems that all

the answer to all my problems lies in a
book.

Yeah, the answer to all my problems lies
in getting rid of a book.

Or... What?

You might not have to get rid of the
book if you can get rid of the picture.

In the past, you've not reached March
1945 yet, right?

Right. Well, that means the picture
hasn't been taken.

All you have to do is make sure that no
-one takes a photograph of you and Noel

during March 1945.

That way it can never appear in the
book, Yvonne can never see it, and we'll

probably never have this conversation.

Which would suit me, because then I
could eat my sandwich in peace.

Thanks so much for agreeing to play at
the club, Noel. My pleasure, Phoebe. I

can never resist a damsel in distress.

Any other time, yes, but in distress.

So, what are you going to do for your
turn?

My turn?

Well, I thought I'd begin with my fire
-eating, then catch a bullet between my

teeth. followed by levitating a Bengal
tiger, and finished by leaping astride

Triumph motorcycle and riding Wall of
Death style around the club.

I'll take all the mirrors down, then,
shall I?

Baby!

I'm home.

I'll tell you the pro... No.

Hello. Greetings, Gary. How are you?

Fine, thanks.

Gary, look.

I'm the... Same if anyone tries to take
a picture of me before I've combed their

barn at fair.

Phoebe, where did you get the camera?

Noel gave it to me, so I could take some
publicity pics of the club.

Oh, well, that's just... incredibly
kind. No, thank you.

So come on in, say, cheese ration. No.

No, I don't think you should take a
photo of me.

You know, what if somebody takes a photo
of me and it falls into the wrong

hands? You don't have to worry about
that.

No, they're worth nothing unless they're
autographed.

No, I mean, my effectiveness as a secret
agent could be severely compromised if

people just take pictures of me willy
-nilly. He's right. I hate anyone taking

pictures of my willy -nilly.

You're so rude, Noel.

Gary, get Noel a cup of tea. Yes, of
course.

Tea, Noel?

Yes, please, Gary.

Milk?

Oh, with the bar.

Sugar? No, thank you.

I always say your hospitality is the
most unusual in London.

Right, well, drink up, then.

I'm sure you must be very busy with all
your writing.

Well, actually, yes, funnily enough, I
am very busy at the moment.

The most wonderful idea for a new play
has occurred to me. An uplifting

propaganda piece about a pair of young
newlyweds moving into their first flat

Mayfair. I'm calling it Gary and Phoebe.

Well, I must be off.

Yeah, no, can I just... Um, well, you
know, I'm no drama.

Just one of the reasons I love you.
Yeah, but can I just say something about

that idea for a play?

Sounds really boring.

Boring?

Gary, it's based on her.

Yeah, well, not boring, exactly.

It's... Why don't you write another one
of your lovely films?

I'd love to, but one must await the
muse.

Well, try something you've never tried
before.

Um, an action thriller.

A what?

Sorry, a mellow drama about, um...

About a man trapped in a building filled
with international terrorists.

I really don't think... All right, then.

International terrorists with really bad
manners.

What a provocative subject.

Yes, I shall go home and start working
on it immediately. Thank you. And you're

right, that other idea does sound
unspeakably boring.

Goodbye, Buttercup.

Oh, that's nice, Gary.

How boring am I?

Wet Sunday afternoon sort of boring, or
am I like a human version of a powdered

egg omelette?

No, I didn't mean you were boring,
Phoebe. I just didn't want Noel writing

us. Why not?

It would have been really something to
see our life upon the stage.

People would have seen that play
performed for years to come. Yeah, but,

we... Shut up.

You're boring me.

Going a long, long way In time of the

rocky...

Your walls may tumble They're only made
of clay But

our love is here to

stay Oh,

was that okay?

Transcendent. Wasn't she, Gary? Oh, yes.
I love a Gershwin tune.

How about you?

Oh, yes.

Thanks so much for doing this, Noel. The
club's never been so full, and it's all

down to you.

I think you're underestimating the power
of your spam fritters.

But we are grateful. You could have said
no. What? Give us a chance to show off.

I'd rather go antiquing in Basingstoke.

And besides, it gives me the opportunity
to catch up with a few old friends.

For instance, have you met Cecil?

Cecil! Hello!

Cecil?

Cecil Beaton.

And then Cecil Beaton takes a picture of
us. Without so much as a buy or leave.

Cecil flipping Beaton. Who do you think
he is? David Bailey?

Ron, what are you doing in there?

Getting ready to go out.

You mean you've actually got a date?

Not exactly.

The Power Rangers?

The X -Men?

A gym.

I've joined a gym.

Holmes Place.

I think they call it Holmes Place
because after you've been there for an

you smell like the hand of the
Baskervilles.

But you hate exercise.

Who said anything about exercise?

According to my book, the gym is the
singles bar of the 90s, only without the

cover charge and the Vinnie Jones look
-alike on the door.

So that's the secret of picking up
women, is it?

Dressed like the world's first gay
superhero.

Don't knock it till you've tried it.

The gym is all about the human body.

Bending, stretching, straining.

It's very sensual.

Nothing is left to the imagination.

Except the bit where you meet a girl and
she actually fancies you.

Well, give me a chance. I've only been
there once.

I was there for two hours yesterday.

You were at a gym for two hours and
you're still alive?

Two hours is nothing.

Those facial scrubs can't be rushed.

And the full body exfoliation, well,
that's a labour of love.

Beginning to wish I'd never given you
this book. And talking of books, what am

supposed to do about Cecil Beaton?

Steal the photo.

You've got, like, 40 years till it's
published, and leave my book alone.

I've still got 38 chapters to do.

I'm not just relying on the gym.

It says in here I should go on a singles
holiday, meet individuals with similar

tastes and interests.

And what does that mean? People who need
a shag.

I've got a brochure.

Pacific Passion.

A great way to get your passport
stamped.

Oh, very classy.

Check out page nine.

Good God.

They do this in public?

How many people are there in that
jacuzzi? It looks like the porno version

Where's Wally?

Everyone looks very friendly.

Oh, it's an eighth holiday.

Trouble is, it's really expensive.

Holly, I've got an idea. I can get it
much cheaper on the teletext. One of

last -minute bargains.

Yeah, well, judging by what they're
wearing, most of these people didn't

time to pack.

Where are you going?

Back to 1945.

You're right.

About the teletext? No, about the photo.
I'm going to have to nick it, destroy

it, before Yvonne gets to page 113.

Otherwise, I'm just going to worry about
it.

You worry too much.

It's bad for your skin.

We're going a long, long way.

Into... You're like the neighbours.

Buttercup, I am the neighbours.

See? You're right.

Oh, what a bleeding night.

It was a veritable triumph.

Yeah. It was good and all.

Seems as if all of London's society was
there. Except, of course, the one Reg

didn't like the look of. Yeah.

Do you think Rex Harrison will ever
forgive us?

I hope not.

Oh,

what a pity Gary had to go off.

He loves a bit of a knees -up.

Well, at least he'll have Cecil's photo
to remember it by.

Yeah, still, he's always going off and
missing the best bits of our life.

I hope he's not losing interest in me
and Michael.

Phoebe, darling, as far as I can tell,
he's sane and fight it.

Therefore, he can't do anything else but
adore you.

You're very kind.

Do you still think I'm attractive, then?

Indisputably.

Do you fancy me?

Well, I think you have some very nice
shoes.

Yeah, I do, don't I?

Are you kidding?

Miss Thumbird's residence.

Oh.

Yes, I'll inform her at once.

Thank you.

Oh, what is it?

Gary.

He's been arrested.

You think you're so clever, don't you?

I'm sorry? With all the spivving and the
vice?

The network of vicious murdering thugs?

I think you may have got me mixed up
with somebody else. Possibly a criminal.

You are a criminal, Torag.

Caught red -handed in Cecil Beaton's
studio.

What kind of a man breaks into a dark
room in the middle of the night?

The kind who wishes he'd bought a torch.

Why were you burning those negatives
then, eh? Answer me that.

Well, it's a long story, but basically
Cecil Beaton took a photograph of me and

frankly it's worse than the one in my
passport.

You're a homicidal maniac, aren't you?

Well, you don't scare me.

Now, don't try that again or I may have
to get tough.

And stop moving about.

I'm not. You're shaking.

That is a vicious lie.

Now, won't you just stay there, quietly,
while I foam the serge.

And keep your nose clean.

It's going to be pretty difficult if it
starts to itch.

Gary.

So it's true.

I had to see for myself.

You're a black market racketeer. No, I'm
not. Reg, I had very good reasons for

what I did.

Hello, Reg.

Cut the reel.

I thought they threw you off the force.

I left to piss you out of every news of
interest.

Well, they haven't taken you very far.

Keep an eye on this villain while I get
the flashbulb for the camera.

Doesn't like you, does he?

There's a bit of history between us, as
you might say.

Police matters, you know. Really?

Sort of personality clash, was it?

Different working methods generated
friction.

Pushed you both past boiling point.

It's eerie, that is.

As if you were there.

I like to think of myself as a student
of human nature, Rich.

So, what was it that led to the final
breakdown in civility between you?

Murder? Bank robbery?

Lunch.

I asked him for cheese and pickle and he
got me... Pilchards.

OK, Reg, bring the prisoner over here.

Chop, chop.

Say, please.

Please. Do you mind stepping this way,
Gary, please?

If you're hungry, Reg, I've got half a
pilchard sandwich here.

Obviously, I'm no Cecil Beaton.

Well, thank Christ for that.

No, you see, you've got to put the
flashbulbs... Keep him away from me.

violent. No, he's not.

Oh, isn't he?

Fine. Then you won't mind if I take the
appropriate steps to restrain him. Oh,

come on. Look, there's no need to cuff
him, Cotterill. Look, it's pretty poor

police work. I have to... Oi!

Don't worry, Reg.

He isn't violent.

Now, let's try this again.

Why don't you say we overpower him and
go on the run together?

At first, we'd argue all the time, but
ultimately, we'd develop a huge respect

for each other's points of view.

Would I still be able to listen to Tommy
Angley on the wireless?

Never mind.

Well, I can't say this is how I wanted
to spend the night, but it could have

been a lot worse.

Don't worry, dear heart.

I know the commissioner.

Right.

price, Gary.

This single holiday is half the price of
the ones in the brochure. And it's in

Spain. And they guarantee that the women
outnumber the men. They guarantee it. I

just hope you've taken precautions, Ron.
Of course I have. On bracelet, some

factor 20.

Postcard, if you can summon up the
energy.

Hello, love.

Ron Weecroft.

21 and gagging for it.

Mr. Weecroft, are you sure?

Well, that's what it says on my birth
certificate, gorgeous.

Well, welcome aboard.

You'd better go and take your seat.

Cheers, mate.

See ya.

He is house -trained, I can assure you.

Oh, it's not that.

I just wondered why he wanted to come on
a swinging 60s singles holiday.

Swinging 60s?

You mean this is a holiday for...
Swingers over 60.

It'll be the only time he gets off in
the next fortnight.

How are you enjoying the book?

Fascinating man, wasn't he? An old
coward.

Oh, I stopped reading it. I only got to
page 112.

You stopped reading on page 112?

Why? It can't be Truman.

They've decided there's more publicity
in the performing arts, so they've

converted the award to a theatre prize.

You're not nice.

Oh, thank you. I'm due at the Playhouse
in 40 minutes to see one of his

undiscovered plays.

Gary and Phoebe.

Sounds really boring.

Sweetheart.