Original subtitles

Oh, yeah...!

Oi, Grandad, you want to see this book Mickey Pearce lent me.

It teaches you how to say filthy things to women from great distances without speaking.

They can't set their brothers on you or nothing!

Do you like your baked potatoes really well done, Rodney?

— Have I got a choice? - Well, not really.

Yeah, I like them really well done.

1 like them all burnt up, so they look like rock—hard prunes.

Oh, good. Dinner won't be long, then.

— "Body Language"? - You'd need an interpreter, Grandad.

All right, Grandad. Dinner ruined yet?

— Coming along nicely, Del Boy. — Good, good. Here, hang on, hang on.

Here you go. There's a score for you. A little Christmas pressie, all right?

Oh, cheers Del, that's very nice of you.

I didn't get you nothing. I don't agree with the commercialisation of a Christian festival

I don't believe that! He actually took my money and gave me a rollicking.

It's like being mugged by a magistrate.

Oh, and merry Christmas!

And a partridge up your pear tree, you saucy old git!

What happened to you today?

I thought I'd see you down the old Nag's Head for a pre—luncheon aperitif

and some light conversation.

With them little head—bangers of yours.

No, my stomach's still a bit dicey. Sort of burning pains.

That'll teach you to play Russian roulette with a mutton vindaloo.

This is psychosomatic.

My brain's sending messages to my belly warning it about Grandad's rotten Christmas dinner.

Have a butcher's in that kitchen. It's all smoke and smells, it's horrible.

He's got baked potatoes that look like lumps of anthracite.

And there's some green stuff in there. I don't know what it is, I thought I'd ask you.

— Why do you let him do it? - It's tradition.

He's been cooking the Christmas dinner since Mum went.

He's been cocking it up ever since Mum went.

What do you want? A sacre—bleur chef or something?

I don't fancy it any more than you do, Rodders, but what can we do about it?

Let's pretend we're both vegetarians, then we won't have to eat his turkey.

Don't be a dipstick all your life, Rodney.

If we pretend we're vegetarians, we'll end up with a plate full of anthracite and green stuff.

I'm going to say I'm on hunger strike — some kind of humanitarian grounds.

Leave it out, will you? I remember the last time that you went on hunger strike,

over a protest about the American cruise missiles being based in Britain.

You said that you were going to starve yourself until all the missiles were removed.

That was eight months ago. The missiles are still here.

What is more to the point — so are you.

After one and a half days you sent out for a curry.

— I was starving. — That's the idea, you plonker!

Come out of it.

Grandad will never wear that.

Anyway... cooking the Christmas dinner has become Grandad's purpose in life.

All year round, he sits in that chair watching them tellies

like an unoiled, redundant cog.

But come Christmas time, he knows that he can whir into action.

It's his role in the family circle.

Makes him feel he still has an important part to play. That he's still needed.

You wouldn't take that away from him for a little bit of...

Botulism!

No, all right, Del.

why don't you do what I do?

Just put the dinner in your mouth and think of England.

For all we know, this year it may turn out to be a gourmet's dream.

I'll just strain the gravy, then I'll get it up.

We must get a plug put on this thing, Rodney.

I'll have some wine, please, Rodney.

Do you want some gravy, Del?

No thanks, I'll have a drop of wine.

Thank you, merc], meri,

Oh, bain—marie, bain—marie!

I'll say this for those old frogs — they make a blinding drop of wine.

You know that shyster down at the off-licence.

He tried to palm me off with table wine.

He must have thought I was a Philistine or something.

I pulled him up a bit sharpish, though.

I said, "Oi, John!", I said. "I don't want none of your table wine", I said.

I said, "Get down there in that cellar and give me a bottle of your Vin Ordinaire.

Right... Here we go.

Mmm, mmm... Not bad, Grandad.

Slightly underdone, maybe.

"Slightly underdone"...? The kiss of life would revive that turkey.

That's enough, Rodney!

— How's your guts now, Rodney? - Not too bad, thank you very much.

- I hope he ain't got worms. — He's doing this on purpose!

That's enough, you two! This is a dinner table. I mean, worms and all that.

Rodney's got this burning sensation in his stomach, haven't you, Rodney?

Maybe they're glow—worms.

- Oi, oi, oi! What's your game? — Could we change the subject?

All right, all right. There's no need to get overwrought. There you go.

This turkey's lovely, Grandad.

- Innit, Rodney? - Tenific.

— Who's Brenda and Terry? - Eh?

— Who's Brenda and Terry? — Who's Brenda and Terry?

— Who's Brenda and Terry? - I don't know.

What are you on about, you old div?

We got a Christmas card from them. It said,

"Love from Brenda and Terry, and the kids Shirley, Shane and Shaun."

- Yeah, that was from Brenda and Terry. - I know! Who is Brenda and Terry?

It's Shirley, Shane and Shaun's mum and dad.

Did we send them one back?

No, we don't know who they are, let alone where they live.

Just as well, with them rotten Christmas cards that you bought.

You didn't like them because they came from a charity organisation.

That is not fair, Rodney. Nobody likes a good cause better than me, do they, Grandad?

But when you choose Christmas cards, you've got to be careful about which charity you choose.

What do you mean, "Got to be careful about which charity you choose"?

Some of those cards might offend our neighbours and friends.

It says, "Merry Christmas from Del Boy, Rodney and Grandad,

and all the gang at the Deptford drug—addiction centre."

with all the cuts in social services, isn't that a good cause?

That's not what I'm saying, but at Christmas, people prefer a traditional Christmas card,

like a nice wintry scene with little snowmen on it. Little robin redbreast.

Not a sprig of holly and a bunch of mistletoe wrapped around a rusty syringe.

You do me right up sometimes, Del.

I don't know why they want these drug—addiction centres anyhow.

Ain't we got enough drug addicts without them recruiting them?

No, Grandad, they're not training centres...

I give up. } Can we change the subject again?

Stroll on, Rodney. We're going through subjects quicker than Mastermind.

You didn't throw the giblets away, did you?

I only asked because I promised them to the old girl downstairs for her cat.

There weren't any giblets in it. It was ready—cleaned, said so on the box.

Yes, they take the giblets out, put it in a plastic bag and put it back inside the turkey.

~ Do they? - Yeah.

- You took the bag out, didn't you? - I didn't know it was in there.

- Oh, my God! — Did you cook it with everything still in it?

Oh, my good God!

It's like peering into the jaws of hell

Didn't you at any point notice it, like when you were putting the stuffing in?

— There's stuffing in there as well? — There's everything in here.

Sage and onion, molten plastic and... things.

It looks like Irish night in a delicatessen.

I just didn't know it was in there, Del Boy.

Yeah, all right, all right. All right, Grandad.

Don't get overwrought, it's over and done with. Don't upset yourself.

It's like the French say, it's a fait acomplan.

— What about the old afters, then? - I'lLgo and get it.

- I would like... - Allright, all right!

Don't worry, custard is his forte.

Oh, my God!

Do you like your Christmas i really well done? pung

(FROM TV): Ladies and gentlemen.

Freddie Oslam will attempt the incredibly difficult triple somersault.

Ladies and gentlemen — Freddie Oslem!

Sorry.

I don't like circuses.

— What? - I don't like circuses.

- Never have liked them. - T'nific.

- Never will like them, circuses... — You've made your point. Switch over.

— There's one on the other side! - Is there? What a shame.

It's a pity you don't like them, 'cause you could be having a whale of a time now.

Put a sock in it, will you?

— It's good living in a tower block, innit? — The Queen don't know what she's missing...

Look at that view, eh? On a clear day, you can see... the ground.

Boring.

Boring, boring, boring.

(SINGING): Boring.

(SHOUTS): Boring!

I'll whack you one in a minute!

Nothing's open, and I'm bored.

Hang about, and I'll get on the phone and knock you up a Mardi Gras.

Everyone's bored.

Christmas is a religious festival, it's meant to be boring.

I thought we were supposed to celebrate the birth of our Lord. A time of great joy.

It is a time of great joy, that's why everything's closed.

Everyone's at home enjoying themselves.

— Enjoying themselves? — Where's me nuts?

Take a look at it out there. It's like a neutron bomb's hit here.

The buildings are still standing, but there's no sign of life.

Nah... The British nation has forgotten how to enjoy itself.

We're all charging towards the cliff edge of terminal boredom like...

..a herd of them... What's them things what commit suicide all the time?

Japanese.

No... Lemmings! Yeah, like a herd of lemmings.

Let's go out somewhere. There's got to be a pub or a club open somewhere.

It's Christmas night, Rodney.

The Monte Carlo Club, New Cross, that's open. Then again, it's a bit rough.

Rough, is it? "It's all those big men drinking beer and burping." You big tart, you.

All right, let's go to the Monte Carlo. We might even be able to pull some birds.

- I don't want to go out. - You're boring as well

- You're hardly a go on the big dipper yourself. - Why don't you want to go out?

I'll tell you why, shall I? It may have slipped your notice, but there are three people living here.

You, me and that scruffy little old man who does funny things to turkeys — our Grandfather.

You're not seriously suggesting that we just leave him here on his own?

— But we often leave him on his own. - But not on Christmas night, Rodney.

We sit in with him every Christmas, he wouldn't mind just this once.

He would pretend he wouldn't mind,

but you don't know what would be going on in his mind as he sat in his empty flat.

Thinking about the good old days when Mum and Dad were here

and Christmas time was a great big family affair.

we're still family, so you'll stay in with me and Grandad and watch "The Sound of Music".

— I don't like "The Sound of Music". — we'll switch over.

— What's on? — The circus.

— I want to go out, Del! — Listen, Rodney.

There are a lot of old people all over the country sitting on their own.

Half of them don't get a Christmas card, let alone a bit of company.

So you're going to stay in with me and Grandad.

If I want to go out, I'll go out.

- You won't. - I will

- You won't, Rodney. - 1 will, Del

- You won't. - I will

I'm off out now. See you later.

See you later, Grandad. You won't. Listen, if I...

Oi! Oi! Just a minute. Where do you think you're going?

I'm going to the Old Folk's Christmas Do over at the community centre.

I thought anything would be better than sitting in here listening to you two arguing.

Tell us what happens in "The Sound of Music", See you!

Yes, see you, Grandad.

Well, that's terrific, isn't it?

Charming. He goes out gallivanting, and we have to stay in and watch Julie Andrews.

Oh, no, brother. Definitely not.

Let's put our glad rags on and hit the Monte Carlo Club.

I'll have a bath first, 'cause there's hardly any hot water left.

Fix yourself a drink, make yourself comfortable and watch the circus.

Oi, John! Give us a Remi Martin with cream soda and lots of ice,

and half a lager.

- Hello, my son. You all right, Earl? - Hello, Del Boy. Nice Christmas?

— A blinder. Where's the enemy? — She took the kids over to her mum's.

— How's the old man? — Heart went down like Tower Bridge.

Still in hospital, unconscious most of the time.

When he wakes up, he don't know where he is.

Next time when he comes around, you wish him a merry Christmas from me and Rodney.

What's wrong with him?

I can't pronounce it.

— How much is that? - 98p.

Here you are, keep the change. Now listen, Earl

Listen, my son. This is what you want to do.

The next time you're at the hospital, you get hold of a surgeon — the guys in white jackets.

You say to him that your old dad wants some antibiotics.

That's AN—EE—-BIO—ICS.

I'll write it down for you. Rodney, give me that Replay I gave you for your Christmas present.

You're being a bit pushy, ain't you? Don't you think the hospital's already thought of that?

That bunch of wallies? These are magic things, these are, Earl.

They work a treat. Gawd knows where they get them from.

Remember when Grandad was in hospital 18 months back.

They gave him so many antibiotics, that when he sneezed, two other blokes got better.

There you are. Don't take that to a chemist, 'cause it ain't a prescription.

No, I won't. Thanks a lot, that's really nice of you.

That's all right, my son. Now, you have a good Christmas.

Come on, Rodney.

You are something else, you are.

You've stuck your nose in where it weren't wanted before, but this takes the biscuit.

Suddenly you're a miracle worker.

Listen, Rodney. Life has been pretty gutty for Earl quite recently.

First, he got made redundant, and it's been like that between him and his missus.

To top it all, his old man collapses in the Nag's Head,

right across the table where me and Trig were sitting. The glasses went flying and everything.

— Serious? - No, I only had about that much left.

He can't afford a private hospital. He wanted to go to Lourdes, but he couldn't afford the fare.

The way his luck's been going, he couldn't afford the fare to Leeds, let alone Lourdes.

I've just given him a little bit of false hope.

A light at the end of the tunnel, a straw to grab at.

A bit of promise for the New Year.

What if he tells the hospital to administer these drugs? What if they finish the old man off?

Leave it out! What do you think they are at that hospital — a bunch of wallies?

- You said....! — Come on, you eedjit.

You're flash, you are, ain't you? You think you know the lot.

Everything about you is... lairy.

— What do you mean "lairy"? — Look at the way you dress, to begin with.

You make a Christmas tree look sombre.

God knows how you've got the courage to walk down dark alleys wearing all that gold.

When they see you coming, you must look like a mugger's pension scheme.

How do you think a peacock attracts a lady peacock, eh? with his plumage.

This is my plumage.

When I approach a bird, she doesn't see the real me,

the young, good-looking man about town, own teeth and all that.

She sees, subconscious,

a white yacht floating on the blue waters of a Caribbean bay.

With you, they see a winkle barge sinking off the Southend pier.

No, because I don't need all the bullion and perfume and white shoes,

because I'm natural — I'm me.

1 know you're you, that's why you end up with a dog.

- I do not go out with dogs. - You've had more dogs than Cruft's.

The other week, Grandad took your suit to the cleaner's. They found a muzzle in the pocket.

Rodney, I know the secret, that's why I always blag the good "uns.

The air hostesses and the part—time models.

Oh, yes, bruv. I've got the secret, it never fails me.

Got a bone handy, Rodders? 1 think you've just cracked it again.

I could do with a sit—down. My pins are aching.

It's amazing, isn't it? Look at us — the Peckham Playboys.

The only one who's pulled tonight is Grandad.

You ought to be used to it. The only thing you pull at Christmas is your cracker.

(DEL): There's a table free over there, Rodders. Go on, look lively.

— Hey, Del. Look! - What?

- Oh no, they've pinched our table. - Never mind, look at them two.

— I wanted to sit down. — we'll sit at their table. Come on!

Go on then, Del Do the bizzo, chat them up.

why is it always me that's got to do the donkey work?

You're like a spy. You find out where the enemy's hiding,

but I have to charge across no man's land and do the capturing.

It's about time you took some of the shot and shell

y? - Do you want me to chat "em up? Yeah go on

AlL right, I'll do it.

- Go on, then. - I will

— What are you doing? - Psyching myself up.

He'll be with you in a minute, he's just psyching himself up.

_ = Shut up! Come on, behave yourself.

- This is kamikaze time. Get over there. - I will

— Go on, then. - In my own time, Del

— Go on, then. - Just shut up, will you?

(DEL): Oi, soppy! Come here!

I'd like to kill you sometimes. Sometimes I'd really like to hurt you bad.

— What was that silly walk? Your guts again? — It was body language. I've got this book on it.

— Body language? I thought you were limping. — I was talking to them.

You were lisping. } What were you supposed to be saying?

The walk was saying... Pelvis, virility...

It was saying, "Here comes a man who's got natural masculinity and maturity."

From back here it was saying, "Here comes a man with his truss on back to front."

Just don't do it. Don't do it.

Go over again, and this time walk normal.

I'm not going back there, I've made myself look like a right lemon.

- No, you haven't. Go on. — After aborting my attempt? You go.

After you've made a right lemon of yourself? No way, brother.

Listen, come here. I'll tell you what we'll do. we'll act cool.

we'll stroll casually over to the bar, get ourselves a drink.

— When they're not looking... — Sneak out.

When they're not looking, we'll ambush them.

You wally. Come on.

— Hey, Del. ~ I've got it.

- No, just now... - Shut up.

This is what we're going to do. You're going to leave the club.

— Leave? - Yeah.

When you get outside, you go to the doorman and say

that there's a brand new Rolls Royce Corniche obstructing your three—wheeled van.

- why? - Then he'll come on the mike and say:

"Will the owner of the Rolls Royce Corniche kindly move it, it's obstructing a three—wheeled van."

Then I will casually get up, jangling my keys,

and join you outside.

why?

Because them birds will think I drive a brand new Rolls Royce Comiche.

Oh, yeah!

But they'll also think that I drive a three—wheeled van.

- You do, don't you? - But I don't want them knowing that.

They won't, "cause you'll be outside.

— with you? — Right.

So that means the girls will be in here in the warm,

and us two shrewdies will be outside on the pavement congratulating each other,

then we're going to have to pay to get back in again.

All right, then, clever Dick.

we'll play it by ear. We'll just go over there and engage them in conversation.

Hold it a minute, Del. What sort of conversation are you going to engage them in?

You always tell lies and say:

"We've got flash cars and we're film producers and we've got a private jet."

— Everyone exaggerates now and then. - Yeah, but I get embarrassed.

Just tell them the truth. Just tell them about our lives and what we do.

All right. I just want to sit down, you can do the talking.

~ Hold it, Del. - God Almighty!

— What shall I say to them? - What?

Tell them that you went down the auction on Friday and bought a 1962 A.40.

That you sold 30 Christmas trees

and knocked out two gross of fire salvaged Rubik's cubes in Croydon shopping precinct.

Tantalise them, Rodney. Tantalise them.

- You don't think it might bore them? - No!

They won't have had so much fun since their last exorcism.

— We can talk about Christmas. - Yeah, tell them all about the giblets!

Come on.

— Del, hold it. — 1 shall kick you in the...

..shins in a minute. Now what?

— Which one do you fancy? - Not yours.

They're both very nice. I ain't particular.

— I ain't particular, neither. - Good, I'll have the blonde one, then.

- I fancy the blonde one. — Gordon Bennett!

Listen! The dark—haired one is very nice.

If I'm not mistaken, I've seen her coming out of Guys Hospital

Either she's a sick girl or she's a nurse.

You like a nice nurse, don't you? Particularly if they're in uniform.

well, you know, take it or leave it. Anyway, she's not wearing a uniform, is she?

Of course she ain't! You don't come to the Monte Carlo Club dressed up like Sister George.

But she might have her uniform with her.

Oh, yeah. Stuffed in her handbag in case she sees an accident on the way home.

All right, so she hasn't got her uniform with her. But she might have something for your stomach.

Now come along, we're going to make our move, and I'm going to do all the talking.

So if you hear things like Lamborghini, Malibu Beach or Lady Diana, don't get nervous.

All right.

- You dozy little twonk, Rodney. — Don't blame me, it was your fault.

Five minutes ago, I was ready to make my move, but you kept calling me back.

An hour ago, I was half way across that floor and you called me back.

That's because you were doing your silly walk.

Your timing was wrong. They had barely sat down, and you came steaming like Ivor the Engine.

There's no good crashing in there with a smile and a prayer.

— A woman needs time. — Them tactics have never failed me in the past.

I wouldn't with them Ovaltinies that you chat up. I've heard your line of patter.

If they don't know Adam Ant's birthday or the Chelsea result, it's good night Vienna.

With me it's different. I take a woman's feelings into consideration.

- Heu heu? - I do!

When a woman goes out with me, she's guaranteed three things.

Four, actually, but the fourth is an optional extra.

She is guaranteed a well-dressed man. Yes, she is.

She's guaranteed a steak meal, care and consideration.

- Oh, no... — Yes, she is!

I take a woman's feelings into consideration.

It's so easy to hurt her deeply with a thoughtless word, a badly timed gesture.

No, I care about women's feelings.

There's too much pain in this world without me causing more.

(RODNEYY): Oh, no...!

Excuse me, it's getting rather late.

} My brother and I were wondering if you were thinking of going home yet?

Yes, we were just going to get our coats.

Good. We can have your chairs then, can't we?

Come on, Rodney. Excuse me, ladies.