Original subtitles

Maybe this is important, Dr Brown, I don't know.

Ever since Nat was born, I've had this recurring dream.

I'm old, sitting in my chair.

I'm not sure which one of us creaks the most.

Sunlight beams through the roof,

a warm breeze drifts in from the garden,

and Nat plays Bach on the piano one last time for her daddy.

And I'm overwhelmed with this feeling

that if everything was to end,

I'd have spent no happier seconds on Earth

than in this perfect stolen moment

in my conservatory.

I mean, it would make the perfect music room, wouldn't it, Trish?

Yes, it would. Can we afford it?

Well, I mean, after that pitch, perhaps the question is,

can we afford not to?

Like I said, Ralph, the finance takes care of itself.

- Now, if I could just get you to sign. - Absolutely.

Thank you.

All right.

I didn't know your daughter played. What grade is she?

- Oh, she's top, top grade. - What, grade eight?

I thought grade eight was the top grade?

It is, for most people.

Look, I better let you get on with your day.

Like I said, I will fast track the conservatory,

so you can start enjoying every beam of sunlight this gorgeous summer

- has to offer us. - Oh, fantastic!

- Oh, exciting! - Very exciting.

- Phwoar! - Ugh, Dad!

Come on, then. Come on, then.

- Where do you think you're going? - Out.

Well, thank you for the packed information bulletin,

make sure you're back for tea.

Nat, sweetheart, if the couple over the road ask,

- can you say you play piano? - As if!

Where have you been?

Just saying hello to the new neighbours.

♪ If I were to say to you, "can you keep a secret?" ♪

♪ Would you know just what to do Or where to keep it? ♪

♪ Then I say, "I love you" Foul the situation ♪

♪ Hey, girl, I thought we were the right combination... ♪

In the eight months that Essex's answer to Al Capone

had been in charge of Cachet, there's been a lot of changes.

We moved showroom for one.

Believe it or not, a fire broke out at the last one.

♪ Shoot that poison arrow to my heart... ♪

The cause, completely unknown.

And our new showroom was clearly doubling up as a nocturnal base

for some of Ronnie's more primitive criminal affairs.

Either that or he was running and S&M playhouse after dark.

Little token of my appreciation.

Also, instead of cash, Ronnie insisted on paying

out bonuses in reclaimed goodies from his debt collection business.

Congratulations.

To be honest, I'd have walked by now if it wasn't for the small matter

of £50,000 that Ronnie insisted on me paying back to the business.

I guess you lot might call this karma for stitching up Walshy.

Luckily, us salesmen don't believe in such supernatural bullocks

like karma, fate, morality.

They tend to be a handicap to what we do.

The business itself was still booming,

mainly thanks to the invention of this little beauty.

The PVCU, double-glazed conservatory.

There was only one minor downside, for all Walshy's faults,

he did make top-notch windows.

Since he'd left, we had to use new suppliers,

and the quality of our products was dropping faster

than Michael Jackson's face-lift.

Not second, it's the third time you've been around.

Meanwhile, the other half of Cachet's undynamic duo was beginning

to accept his fate in the world of sales.

Peak Personal Performance.

It's a set of technologies designed

to help you take control of your life,

mentally, physically, emotionally and financially.

Now, who wants to tell me their story?

- You, sir, in the front row, making notes. - Sorry.

Cos we've all got a story, right?

Me, I was married at 16,

first love, he was captain of the Manchester United under-18s.

Problem was, it wasn't just United he was scoring for.

He was shagging everything in Manchester with a pulse.

So, I found myself divorced at 21,

and I left that marriage with zero qualifications, zero self-esteem,

and zero effing clue what the future held.

I took my last 300 quid and I booked on one of these courses,

so I was you, sat there, day one, not a clue what to expect,

praying that the loud American on stage didn't point at me

and ask me what my story was.

And I think I was just about to leave

when I heard something that hit me, bam!

It was like a bucket of cold water, and that message was this:

the past does not equal the future.

One month later, I got my first job in sales.

Six months after that, I was headhunted by Everest Windows

to run their North West operation.

A few weeks after that, my ex broke his leg in three places

and had to retire from football. Yes, you are allowed to cheer.

Yay!

So, Martin, what's your story?

I left the band of a well-known pop star

- just before he had a massive number one hit. - Ouch!

Step away from the past, Martin. What do you want out of this?

I want to become better at selling.

And?

I feel that my default setting is acceptance.

I need to start taking control of my life.

I want to become more assertive.

And you will make that happen.

Right, who's next? Gentleman at the back.

- Tommy? - It's Tony, they fucked the badge up.

- Walshy? - What do you want from this, Tony?

Well, if life has taught me one thing it's that salesmen,

like haemorrhoids, are massive pains in my fucking arse

that I could well do without.

OK, and what are you hoping to get from this course?

I want to become one.

A salesman, not a haemorrhoid.

Maybe a Jacuzzi, put a little champagne on ice.

The little shit's up next.

Where'd you get a hold of this, Carol?

A friend of mine wanted to try one of those new video dating agencies.

- A friend. - OK, where do I start?

I'm Brian, I'm 28 years old.

What the fuck?

I don't know what I'm looking for, really.

I suppose what I'm not looking for

is a big, 30st monster that can't stop thinking

about eating food. Yeah.

- Good to put that out at first. - Oh, special interests?

Well, I like fun, having fun.

I suppose I'm looking for someone who likes having fun.

Oh, wow, Brian! You're such an enigma!

I never thought I'd meet another human who was interested in fun.

You've probably already noticed I have incredibly deep brown eyes.

I've been told that makes me seem mysterious.

By who, the police?

I think it's vile.

Married men preying on desperate, vulnerable, single women

like me. My friend.

I've got a good mind to show this to Maureen.

- Who? - Thyroid.

Finally, I have no history of domestic violence,

a clean driving licence.

I do have a cat allergy, but I'm willing to take

an antihistamine for the right woman.

Just to clarify, that is no, N-O history of domestic violence.

Don't even know why I brought that up.

Unbelievable!

This, this is a violation of my basic human rights!

Those protests would carry more weight if they weren't coming

- from a philandering shitbag. - She's got a point, mate.

Look, it's not what you think.

She's left me. OK?

Yeah?

So, do me a favour, and just bloody well leave it alone, will you?

As an indirect result of getting hooked

on Brian's amphetamine-based slimming pills,

Maureen had started hitting her local aerobics class.

One, two, three, four, thrust, six, seven,

and, one, two, three, four...

♪ And I, I've got to have my way now, baby... ♪

OK, and down.

Then arch your back.

As well as getting thighs like Jane Fonda's,

she was also getting extra one-on-one tuition...

...in the art of home lesbionics.

Fitzpatrick was too embarrassed to tell us he turned Maureen gay,

so he moves out of the house and into his shed.

♪ You spin me right round, baby ♪

♪ Right round like a record, baby Right round, round, round ♪

♪ You spin me right round, baby ♪

♪ Right round like a record, baby Right round, round, round. ♪

Look, it's probably for the best.

I mean, you said yourself there were problems.

Let me make you a nice cup of tea to say sorry.

I mean, don't get me wrong, we despise each other.

It's like when I had that cyst removed last year.

It was fucking agony at the time, and it definitely had to go,

but even now, when I look at myself in the mirror,

I just feel like there's someone else staring back at me.

- I thought that cyst was on your arsehole. - It was.

Why are you staring at your arsehole in the mirror, Brian?

That's the only way you can see it.

Fair enough. Anyway,

I've got something that might cheer you boys up.

Bumped into Walshy the other day, he's getting back in the business.

"W-windows?" Is that a fucking typo?

Well, it's certainly a unique selling point.

Britain's first double-glazing company with a stutter.

- He's pronouncing it as W Windows. - That's just as fucking ludicrous.

Guess I'll have to put him out of business again.

Was he tapping you up to sell for him?

No, no. That's the best part,

- he's going to be doing his own selling. - Ha!

I cannot think of anyone less suitable to sell windows

to the public than that fucking lunatic.

Present company excepted, of course, lavatory.

Oh, you've perked up. I think the shit salesman jokes

might be slightly past their sell-by date.

I've outsold you for the past three weeks.

Oh, really?

Come see me when you've posted the numbers I do over a 12-month

period, then we'll talk, sunshine.

The past does not equal the future, Fitzpatrick.

For those of you wondering if there are downsides

to all this new-found success, may I present exhibit A,

a dinner party with the new neighbours.

Emily? James?

Robbie and Nat are here. Do you want to go up?

I'd prefer to stay down here and talk with the adults.

Sweetpea, if Patricia and Ralph had wanted a disturbing presence

at the dinner table, we would've brought a Ouija board.

When are you going to grow up?!

And now magazine publishing, how did you,

how did you find your way into that?

Um, it was a colleague of Vincent's that actually offered me the job.

- I wouldn't call him a colleague. - Ooh, intriguing.

What's the story?

Well he's actually a very good boss,

but him and Vincent don't really see eye to eye.

That's because I'm three foot taller than him,

and he's a fucking midget.

You don't approve, Vincent?

Well, luckily, I don't need Vincent's approval,

but despite what he's been saying, you've actually been very

supportive, haven't you, baby?

Now, listen, apologies for, uh, for talking shop, Vincent,

but I just wanted to confirm, it's Monday that the fitters are coming?

Yeah, let me know when it's convenient,

- and I'll make it happen. - Great.

- Oh, what's this? - The new conservatory.

Oh.

So, Robbie, your mum tells me you're taking the 11 plus.

Yeah, even harder when I go to grammar school.

It's for the posh ponces and gays, ain't that right, Dad?

- Absolutely. - Robbie!

- That's where Emily and James go. - I mean, absolutely not.

Well, don't worry, Rob. If your actual results

are as bad as your marks, you won't have to suffer

the indignity of a first-rate education.

If he's as bright as he seems,

there are always other avenues to getting selected.

No point in being a school governor if you don't get a little sway

- in these matters. - Patricia, you're a governor?

- Mm-hmm. - Wow!

- Right, that's it, you're dead! - Oh, I'm scared Rob!

Did you have to sell them a bloody conservatory?

Seeing as they already have new windows, yes.

Don't get fucking cute with me.

Sweetheart, they said they needed an extra room,

I offered to help. What was I supposed to do?

Send them to Walshy?

I'm warning you, don't shit on our doorstep,

I like it here.

I like having neighbours that haven't been to prison,

or aren't sex offenders.

Don't fuck this up for us.

Ah, Brendan, just the man I wanted to see.

I need you to fast-track a conservatory for my new neighbours.

I told them you'd get started next week.

Well, unless they want a conservatory built on the Isle of Wight,

they'll have to fucking wait. I'm off on holiday Monday.

I don't remember seeing a holiday form for Brendan, do you, Carol?

- Didn't know we had holiday forms. - You're not fucking going.

Hang on!

Until I start receiving a company pension

or getting paid in anything other than cash by this firm,

- I'll do as I fucking well please! - OK, let me put this another way.

You either get my neighbours' conservatory built next week,

or you can holiday on the Isle of Sacked, forever.

- OK, fine. - Good.

Carol's got the details, I'll tell them to expect you Monday.

No, I meant, "OK, fine, sack me."

Walshy's looking for fitters, he called me last week.

You can fit the fucking glorified porch yourself!

I'll have driven him out of business by the time you get

back from that stinking fucking caravan holiday!

Well, I suppose I won't be bringing you back

any coloured sand now, then, will I?

The great British Jobcentre. Chances are, if you're looking

for a vocation in life, it's not going to be advertised

on a four-inch card in one of these graveyards for the unemployable.

Excuse me, sir.

Are you available to work today?

- Depends. - Depends on what?

Depends on what it is.

I'm not going to drive a van off the Dartford Bridge

just because someone's paying me, am I?

Well, that's a very wise mantra to live your life by.

I can tell I'm dealing with a high-calibre individual.

- So, what is it? - I represent Cachet Windows And Doors.

We're currently running an induction course

for trainee fenestration engineers.

What's fenestration?

The science of windows. Have you got any carpentry skills?

No.

- Can you lay bricks? - No.

Do you have any experience at all in the building trade?

- I can dig holes. - That will do.

Vincent Swan, pleased to meet you. Come with me.

Hello, Patricia, love. This is Barry, he's our top fitter.

I had to pull him from another job, but neighbours do come first.

Oh, well, why don't you come in and get yourself settled, Barry?

I'll put the kettle on.

- My name is not Barry, it's Derek. - Yeah, it's a nickname.

"Barry who ain't Barry", his old apprentice gave him it,

and it sort of stuck, didn't it, Bazzer?

- Oh, well, sugar, Barry? - Four and a half, please.

Right.

I don't know how to build a fucking conservatory!

Well, there's no better place to learn than on the job.

It's easy.

You lay the foundation, knock through to the lounge,

then piece it all together. There's even an instruction manual.

It's like a giant Lego set.

My doctor told me to avoid stressful situations.

Fuck me, Barry, would an extra 20 quid help relieve

some of that stress for you?

- Mm-hmm. - Right.

Well, I'll pop back in an hour and see how you're getting on.

Everything you need is in the van.

Call the showroom if you need me.

The first rule of sales warfare is "know your enemy",

so I sent the boys on a little reconnaissance mission.

State of that.

No, it's not bullocks, it's science.

The sealed unit reduces...

There's no need for that!

You're missing out, mate!

Oh, for f...

Why didn't you tell me you were moving 45 fucking minutes ago?!

Next time you want to waste someone's time, call the Samaritans!

This is going to be easier than we all thought.

Yeah, I know.

Advertise your product or brand here contact www.OpenSubtitles.org today

Good afternoon, W Windows.

Oh, hello, is that W-windows?

Yes, sir, but it's pronounced W Windows.

Oh, right, I was after W-windows, never mind.

No, sir, it is W-windows, but it's pronounced...

How can I help you today, sir?

Well, I was just wondering, do you only do w-windows,

or do you do d-doors as well, you d-daft w-wanker?

What?! What?!

Ha-ha!

Oh, shit, he's coming out!

Come on, go!

- Sam, can I have a quick word? - Yeah, of course.

It's about the new conservatory.

I have left several messages at the showroom,

but no-one's called me back yet.

We're having a few teething problems.

Teething problems?

Hmm. A spot of leakage, some of the windows open inwards.

I mean, nothing that can't be tweaked, I'm sure.

Right.

Well, um, Vincent's been away for a few days on a training course,

but he'll be mortified when I tell him.

In fact, why don't you come to us for dinner tomorrow

to make up for the inconvenience?

And I promise I'll make sure

Vincent gets those bloody tweaks sorted before then.

Marvellous. Thank you, neighbour.

Vincent, you wanker.

As predicted, not only is there a steaming great turd

on our doorstep, but as fucking always,

- I'm the one left to clean it up. - Honey, I'll take care of it.

The customer always thinks they're right,

it's my job to convince them otherwise.

It's hardly a matter of opinion is it, Vincent?

They've either got a bloody leaking conservatory,

- or they haven't. - Exactly.

Look, don't worry, I'll tell Pat all our conservatories leak at first,

they just need a bit of time to settle in.

I mean, you couldn't have said anything more worrying.

- Barry. Barry, mate! - It's Derek.

Derek, the newly qualified fitter, don't you mean?

Congratulations, you've made the grade.

Now, come on, I need you to take a look at that test job you did for me.

I can't, I've got to sign on.

No, because that would be social security fraud

now that you've got a job, wouldn't it, Bazzer?

Chop chop.

Yeah, you need to switch the opening window units around,

straighten up the hinges on the door, and sort out the leak.

And how do I do that?

If I knew the answer to that particular question,

I wouldn't be paying fitters 100 quid a day, would I, Barry?

Derek. And you pay me 50 quid a day.

At this juncture in your career, yes, because you're an apprentice.

You do stellar job here and I'll make you a fully-fledged fitter.

Great, thank you.

- I still don't know what I'm doing. - Use your initiative.

And when that fails, plug every fucking joint with mastic.

That should hold long enough to get Robbie in a toff school.

Meanwhile, something was seriously wrong in the estates of Corringham.

I believe you asked for someone to come around to talk you

through our range of windows and doors.

Oh, sorry, I saw your colleague yesterday.

Seeing as though we're back in the area,

I might as well come in, give you a free quotation.

Do you remember the name of the rep who called around?

Yeah, it was Joe.

So, did Joe leave any of our leaflets with you?

Signed the order yesterday.

OK, well, if you're sure, I'll cancel the appointment.

OK, bye.

- Traitor. - What did you call me?

Oh, sorry, I thought you'd hung up!

This is the least professional...

What's going on?

That's the fifth cancellation today.

I'll tell you what's going on, some prick called Joe at W-windows

has been cold-calling every fucking house on our patch

and stealing our leads.

Well it's definitely not Walshy,

he couldn't sell a 12-year-old's knickers to a kiddie fiddler.

Well, I'm not having this,

it's about time I introduced myself to this Joe goon.

I mean, if we haven't got honour amongst salesmen, what have we got?

- Incredible levels of self-delusion? - Yeah, fuck you, Martin.

- Hello. - Yep, just give me a minute.

No need, I'm here for the organ grinder, not the monkey.

- He just happens to look like an ape. - Sorry, sir, he's not here.

Can I help?

Yeah, you can pass a message on to your boss.

- Tony Walsh? - Yeah.

And for the underhand shit-for-brains pond life he's got working for him.

If they want a war, they better be prepared for it to go nuclear.

If it does go nuclear, bagsy sharing a bunker with you.

- Just pass on the message. - Who should I say called by?

- He'll know. - Well, he may well do.

What do I call this immaculately dressed,

handsome, young firebrand stood before me?

- Are you fucking with me? - Joanne Scott.

Head of sales.

Thanks for asking, and, no, not fucking with you.

- Not yet anyway. - You're the fucking lead thief.

The penny finally drops!

Well, if you're the finest Cachet has to offer,

it's no wonder I'm cleaning up around town.

Oh, I haven't even begun to get warmed up yet, sweetheart.

Oh, I know. I know, but you're Mr Thermonuclear,

the man with the red-hot missile,

ready to wipe me out.

Maybe, before we unleash mutually assured destruction on one another,

we should go out with a bang.

Come on, Vincent, you understand the first rule of warfare better

than anyone - "know your enemy".

What are you doing?!

I'm giving you the opportunity to know every inch of your enemy.

Right now.

I don't think so.

- Even if I wasn't happily married... - Sure you are.

...to the most sensational woman on the planet,

- it's not happening. - Oh, it is.

You've got some front, I'll give you that.

I mean, maybe not today or the next day

but, trust me, it's happening.

Now, is that an Intercontinental ballistic missile you keep

in your pocket or are you pleased to see me?

Ah. I see you've met my new head of sales, Vincent.

I had to shell out a fucking fortune to get her on board,

but it'll be worth every penny to wipe that smarmy smile

from off your smug fucking chops.

Now, if you wouldn't mind fucking off,

we've got a successful window business to run.

Toodle-pip.

At least with the dating agency there's a paper trail in case

of going missing.

Sorry, I don't want you to get the impression that I only picked you

because you're the least likely to kill me.

Well, I do, obviously, but...

Can we just drop this subject?

I literally haven't said a word.

Sorry. I'm really nervous.

I want you to know, I feel really shitty

about showing everyone your tape, Brian.

Oh, look, it's fine, OK?

I understand, you thought I was cheating on Maureen.

Who? Oh, Thyroid.

So... here we are.

Yeah.

What is it that you do?

- What do you mean? - For a living?

- What are you doing? - Small talk.

But you know what I do.

Well, it's really hard being on a blind date

with someone you know really well.

You ask me something.

All right, um, have you ever been in love?

Well, I'm not answering personal questions.

OK, uh...

- Do you want to go home? - Yeah, please.

Probably just chalk this one up as a bad idea, shall we?

Agreed.

Do you think we should have a compatibility shag at least?

- What? - Sex, Brian.

We might discover some as yet undetected physical chemistry.

Right, yeah, well, I mean, you know, I guess it's always a good idea

to rule these things out, or in.

You never know, we might...

Oh, we won't.

But I haven't really got anything else to say on the feedback form

for the video agency.

While I can hardly expect a medal for not cheating on my wife,

I am allowed to enjoy being good for once.

Hello, my gorgeous.

- Honestly, what would you say this is? - A prawn cocktail.

Yes! Right, come and have a look at my beef Wellington.

All right, but we'll have to be quick,

the Browns will be here in half an hour.

- That's actually pretty funny for you. - I aim to please.

Good, because I could do with some pleasing.

Yeah?

This had better be good news! Hi, Pat.

Whoa! What? I'll be right over.

In what world would anyone think

that this is an acceptable finish, Vincent?

It looks like a wedding cake.

Hmm. Did you raise any of this with Barry?

I would have, but Barry was sat outside in the garden crying

when I got back, so I sent him home.

Yeah, sometimes the mastic can react

with the polycarbonate and raise up like this.

It usually rectifies itself in a few hours.

Sorry, did you not hear what I just said about Barry?

And the bloody door doesn't open now!

Ah. Yeah, you just need to adjust the hinge.

You can fix that with a screwdriver, Ralph.

But that's not my responsibility!

Well, technically, it kind of is.

If you didn't raise these problems with our fitter,

then contractually you've accepted the remedial works,

but I'll tell you what, in the spirit of neighbourly love,

I'll get Barry to pop over in the morning.

No, no, no, no, no. Barry is not coming back, OK?

He's having a nervous breakdown.

And it still fucking leaks!

Why don't I give you and Patricia a few minutes to cool down?

What the fuck is happening, Vincent?

Bad news, baby. Pat's come down with a terrible bug.

All the more beef Wellington for us.

So, how was that?

I mean... nothing.

Nada.

It's just weird, cos I can usually get satisfaction from anything,

even that teddy.

But this just felt like... nothing.

What did you think?

Yeah, yeah. Same, probably.

Um, maybe we should give it another go,

- treat that one as a warm-up. - Oh, no, Brian.

No, some experiments should never have happened,

like Frankenstein,

or Elton John's hair transplant.

Sync & corrections by emeline-whovian www.addic7ed.com

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