All language subtitles for waiting_for_god_s01e07_the_helicopter

We just go up and down the coast, taking
shots of all the fancy houses and blow

them up and flog them to the owners. No
one can resist an aerial shot at their

own house. What do you need me for?

You're my assistant.

I don't want to go up in a helicopter.

I do not wish to be in this unnatural
machine.

Can we go down now?

No, certainly not.

I might have died ten minutes ago.

Just a few more pictures.

Is this fun?

No, it isn't.

Up here is far too close to God.

You might think you can save an affair
by just taking us on from here.

to see you.

I'll never leave you again.

Oh, my knees.

God.

What's this?

The gang's all here.

Dan, how are you?

Fine, Harry.

How are you?

We were just so worried.

Can't think why.

You've been up in a thingamy.

Marion, it's called a

I know that's a long word for your
gnat's brain, but do try and take it in.

no, you might be able to use it in
conversation.

Dad, what did you think you were doing?

Diana wanted to take some pictures of
rich folks' houses to sell for wicked

profits, so I took her up in the old
chopper.

You mean you were flying it?

Well, they don't fly on their own, you
know.

Dad, you can't fly.

Of course I can.

In fact, you hate flying.

Nonsense. Great fun.

The old coat pilot was a bit... queasy,
but once I'd done a few rolls of lube

and banged it up to mark two over the
Atlantic.

Well, she knew she was in safe hands.

Is this true, Diana?

Of course it's true, Jane.

Would Tom ever tell a lie?

Certainly dark in here.

That is why it is called a dark room,
Tom.

I do love The unerring logic of our
English language.

What were your revolting family doing
here anyway?

Oh, Geoffrey wanted me to sign a
petition. Oh, my God, not another

hate petitions. It's all right. It has
nothing to do with you.

Let them fight their own battles.

We didn't ask them to fight our battles.

They weren't alive for half of them.
That's no excuse.

Believe me, when you're retired... It
ain't your problem, because by the time

it's solved, you'll probably be just a
handful of dust blowing in the winter

wind. The council want to rezone their
area.

Good, maybe they'll make it into a war
zone and Marion will get machine gun to

bits.

They want to make it into a light
industrial zone.

Serves them right for being so ghastly.

Now then, if you find the numbers on the
bottom of the photos, match them to the

addresses, then we'll look them up in
the electoral roll.

Right.

Apparently, someone wants to start... A
human spare parts factory right beside

Jeffrey and Marion.

Liven up their window shopping.

Could be quite handy, I suppose, for
when we start falling to bits.

Do you mind?

Jane could arrange bargain -hunting
trips.

I could do with a pair of new knees.

What about you?

New hips?

New eyeballs?

New wig?

If we also bind our orders, we might get
a reduced rate. In fact,

I could become a door -to -door bear
park salesman.

Good morning, madam.

Could I interest you in a brand -new
lower intestine?

I intend to go to my box in one piece,
thank you very much.

Now, let me see. Good grief.

Oh! Oh! Will you take a look at this?

Oh, it's Watson's blade.

In Dallas, Southport, J .R. Stead.

Fork, it is the last place we took
yesterday.

Gosh, we did fly a long way.

In that corner, you fool.

Oh, yes.

Two people dressed in pink having a
fight.

Oh, goodness.

Two people still in the pink, but
definitely not fighting.

Nodding and gendering like... Like toads
in a cistern.

Sounds disgusting.

Who said that?

Shakespeare. Deathly old man. Who,
Shakespeare?

No, not Shakespeare.

This fellow.

It's not J .R. And that's certainly not
Sue Ellen.

Of course it's not Sue Ellen.

Sue Ellen is dark.

And this, if I'm not very much mistaken,
is a six -bottle peroxide blonde

trollop.

We'll airbrush them out.

Nobody's going to want to buy a photo of
their place with the gardener and the

au pair at it, hammer and tongs, all
over the place.

Very long.

Guess what? I can only wish you luck
with the zoning, Geoffrey.

Oh, there's a Range Rover out there.

It's juggling balloons.

Geoffrey, Geoffrey, I'm sorry. I'm going
to have to say goodbye. Yes, I'm sorry,

Geoffrey. Goodbye, Geoffrey. Bye -bye.

Oh, that'll be Fergie Ferguson, the
local political power broker. Now, look,

Jane, I need to impress this man.

I've got some ambitions that way myself.
I need to show him that I'm also a

person of power.

Oh, you are, Harvey.

I find you very powerful.

Here's a little trick, Jane.

Something to show your natural sense of
superiority.

See? Boss man.

Underdog.

Whoever sits in this seat, Jane, is in
the position of the supplicant.

Parasiting, I call it. Oh, you are
clever, Harvey.

Yes, I am, aren't I? Well, Harvey!

Now, remember your body language,
Harvey. Head back, shoulders up. Hello,

Fergus. Miss Baird, can I see you now?

Hello, Mr. Fergus. Are you a happy cat?
Great to see you. Hello, Fergie. Good to

see you. Good to see you. Do sit down.

Thank you, Harvey.

How are things in the cut -and -thrust
world of local politics, Fagg? Bloody

awful, as usual.

And now we've got these damn silly
elections.

Why the hell the future of this country
should be put in the hands of people as

pig -ignorant as the voters, God only
knows.

Right. Now, how many of your lot are
stone deaf?

Oh, uh, Jane?

None at all.

Thank God for that.

I did my whole geriatric spiel this
morning. Ten valuable minutes.

Promised them the world, not a moment.

Then someone told me I was in the
Institute for the Bloody Deaf.

I should have done a quick leaflet drop
and had a longer lunch.

Oh, it's a tough one.

I'll see.

Now, look, these are the how -to -vote
forms. I'll show you how to walk the old

farts through them.

Everything OK, Mr Trent?

There's not enough strychnine in the
soup.

Mr Ballard, here's your petition. All
the staff have signed it and most of the

residents.

Mr Ballard?

Tom?

You away, Tom?

No, I'm still here.

Penny? What?

Penny, for your thought.

I was thinking about sex.

Give me my penny back.

I mean, do you think we should do it?

I didn't mean, should we do it together?
God forbid. I mean... I didn't mean

that either.

I meant that, well, if we... Oh, I wish
I hadn't got into this.

I'm so sorry, Tom. Something went the
wrong way.

Ah.

Started you thinking about sex?

Well, that photograph of that couple...

Notting and gendering in the garden.

You've got me thinking.

Tom, the British never think about sex
at lunchtime.

I thought you'd approve.

There's a time and a place for
everything. When I'm stuffing my soup,

thinking soup, not sex.

I mean, I'm still capable.

Just leave the room.

Just as I thought. You're all talk and
no action.

When it comes to sex, everyone round
here is all talk and no action.

What about Harry Piggy and Mary Hawkins?

Good grief.

Fair enough.

You should take your earplugs out one
night.

I thought a pack of wolves was upon us
last Wednesday.

Well, she's no better than she ought to
be.

Apparently, she's a lot better than she
ought to be.

Just control yourself, or I'll have you
hosed down.

This is the best time to get them all
together.

While they're eating, they can't argue,
eh? Great.

If I could just have your attention for
a moment, please.

Just ignore him.

Now, as you all know, the local
elections will soon be upon us.

And we're very fortunate to have with us
today Mr.

Ferguson, who I'm sure is a very
familiar figure to you all.

Yes, well, Councillor Ferguson, who is
standing once again for the residents'

party, would like to have a few words
with you all.

Over to you, sir.

Can everybody hear me?

The residents' party has no central
government ambition. We are, as we

the party of the residents.

Some of us may be conservative.

Some of us Labour.

But when it comes to the local
elections, we are for the local people

local people only.

Are you sure you can hear me?

Do get on with it. The soup's
congealing.

And we know that you, as our senior
citizens, have special needs which

only we in the Residence Party can truly
meet.

Bravo. That's what the Tory fellow said
last week.

The Labour chap here the week before.

Ah. Yes, but were they being specific?

Or did they just talk in generalities?

One of them talked in Swedish.

commitment to the elderly.

Now, we know that in these days, life is
a continual struggle, so we aim to

relieve the burden on you by continuing
your free bus passes, subsidising your

TV rentals, and giving you Christmas
bonuses on your pensions.

I knew you'd be wild about our
programme.

Now, any questions?

Diana Trent.

Careful.

Yes, Diana.

What can I do for you?

Well, you can call me Miss Trent for a
start, you impudent pup.

Right.

Sorry, Miss Trent.

What was your point?

I don't want a free bus pass.

I have paid my way all my life. I am
paying my way here. When I go outside

front door, I expect to continue paying
my way.

Yes, well, not all pensioners are middle
class and well -off.

So let's hope everyone feels as you do.
Oh, yes, they damn well do.

And with the bureaucracy involved, it
takes £100 to process each free bus

So why don't you just hand us the £100
each and sack all your miserable little

pen pushers?

All we want is to be treated like human
beings.

Respected. Our patronised.

so you can stick your free bus passes
and your free televisions right up where

the sun don't shine and rotate them.

I had 20 votes when I came in here. Now

she's got them.

No, no.

I think she's wonderful.

I wish she'd been my nanny.

Sure, I know this fellow from somewhere.

Don't leave that alone. It's doing you
no good at all.

They remind me of the summer of 1941.

I had a girlfriend just like this.

Fair.

Her name was Sally. She was a land girl.
She looked like one of those Horlicks

ads. All pitchfork smiles and dungarees.

A real cracker. We used to set the crops
on fire.

For goodness sake, go and have a cold
shower or recite your logarithms or

something. I don't know what's good into
you.

I am a man, you know.

Well, around here you're not.

You're a pensioner. You're supposed to
be dead from the neck up and extra dead

from the waist down.

You're such a prude, Diana.

My objections are purely practical. I
just don't want you rampaging around the

place like some mad old goat.

Why not?

kill yourself, you've got a weak heart.

Oh, come on. It's happened before.

What happened before?

Nothing, forget it.

What happened before?

Nothing, I never spoke.

I'll hound you till you tell me.

Well, I have always preferred older men.

Goody.

When I was in my late thirties. As we
emerged from the last ice age.

Do you want me to tell you this now?

Sorry. Well, I had a... A gentleman
admirer in his fifties.

He was a lovely man.

But, unbeknownst to all, he had a bit of
a dicky ticker.

We had a grand affair.

He swore he would die for me.

And he did.

Not, uh... Oh, well, what a wonderful
way to go.

For him, maybe. I was extremely
embarrassed.

What are you chuckling about, Tom?

Ah, Miss Trent's sex life. Oh, how nice.

What was that?

You said Miss Trent's next life.

You believed in the next life.

I don't even believe in this life, Jane.

Can we please change the subject?

Mr Ferguson was really impressed by you.

He said that if he could get someone
like you on his side, he could wrap up

elderly vote for the entire ward.

Really? Yes.

He said you had the natural...

cynicism and loathing for your fellow
man that was the true hallmark of any

first -rate politician.

I don't understand, Geoff. The other day
when you came over here, you were

weeping and wailing about the wicked
developers raping your beautiful

countryside. But now... But now things
have changed.

We have discovered that the developers
in question are really quite nice

have to be here. She's listening to us.
Don't worry, Marion. I have a built -in

whinge filter. I won't hear a word.

The thing is, Dad, the developers have
made quite a nice offer.

Once they get the planning permission
through for the false bits factory, they

want to expand and build bigger people.

What are they?

Trusted surgical stockings.

It'll bring a lot of jobs to the area.
Hand -woven by generations of local

peasants, the well -known raffia
colostomy bags at Lower Buckingham.

Would it be darker not to be so
disgusting? I'm not the one who's

little bit of England to a Taiwanese
prostate king.

They're not Taiwanese, they are
Japanese.

Since they'll all be too small.

Would you mind your own business?

What about the petition, Geoffrey?

Save our heritage, who won the war, keep
foreign investment out of Lower

Buckley. I got everybody to sign it.
Except me.

Except her.

Well, maybe we were being a little
hasty, and we hadn't met Mr Kurosawa.

Oh, his wallet.

Very, very cool.

There.

Where? That place over there.

You see, you can just see its roof. It's
very big, lots of garden, and best of

all, it's right next door to you.

And it's a wonderful bargain. No one
else wants to live close to an old

home. We'll be right in your back
pocket. The kids can come over. You can

babysit for us. We can have barbecues,
marjons. I know he's my son, but when I

look at him, I have doubts about the
theory of evolution.

He's such a dull dinosaur.

Somewhere along the line, he's had a
severe charisma bypass.

The thought of him wandering over the
hill every ten minutes to discuss his

children's hamsters, real ales, and...

Do it yourself, Sheldon. Oh, God.

From which cliff do the local lemmings
throw themselves off?

I'm just surprised that Marion will
allow herself within spitting distance

either of us.

Ah, well, the place is a bargain, and a
bargain ignites a primeval fire in

Marion's loins.

Apparently, she could only achieve
orgasm during the Harrods' sales.

Hello, Tom, Diana. Do you mind if I join
you? Yes, buzz off and pry yourself.

Don't mind if I do.

So how are things?

We've both got bubonic plague.

Jolly good.

What do you want, Harvey?

Oh, no, nothing. I was just passing the
time of day.

You never just pass the time of day,
Harvey. There is no profit in it.

Now, that's what we like about you,
Diana. No fiddle -faddle, straight to

point great.

Why don't you try it?

Who exactly is we?

Oh, the Residence Party.

Do you mean you're involved in that
travesty of a political machine?

Oh, yes, I'm very busy in the South
Ward. I bet you are.

Doesn't that include Lower Buckley?

Right, and you've probably heard the
good news about the spare parts place.

We're soon knee deep in need, eh?

What do you want, Harvey?

We want you, Diana.

You what?

Oh, Fergie Ferguson was very impressed
by your ability to sway a mob.

I mean persuade an electorate.

He wants you on our team.

No, thank you. He's having a gathering
of helpers at his place this afternoon.

No, thank you. And he was wondering if
you'd like to come along and, well, get

to know him.

No, thank you. He's got a smashing place
on the coast. Pool, croquet lawn,

tennis courts, like something out of
Dallas. No, thank you.

Croquet lawn?

We'd love to come.

Hello. You must be the au pair.

Oh, how did you get?

I don't know.

Hello.

I'm Winnie Ferguson.

You must be Diana Trent, who's going to
fix Fergie's image with the elderly. I

certainly am.

You know, Fergie was only saying the
other day that with the electorate

older every year, we're really going to
have to bust a gut to con the codgers,

as he calls it.

Absolutely. Going to have to get them
down to the polling stations with cattle

prods and mad dogs, is what I say.

I can see why Fergie took to you.

And I can see why he took to you.

What are they doing here?

What's she doing here?

Probably helping. Nothing to worry
about. Take a pill, dear.

She's up to something terrible.

I can tell.

She's being nice. Relax.

Hello, dear.

Who's this little chappy, then?

Dad, this is Mr.

Kurthawa of Kurthawa Pathetics.

Oh, the spare parts, ma 'am. How do you
do? How do you do?

One, two, three, four. Just checking.

Could you fit people with wheels instead
of legs in a decent gearbox?

Go away.

I don't.

Wheels.

Good idea.

Hello.

It's only good having you girls in our
country.

Oh, thank you.

There isn't a gardener here, is there?

Oh, no.

Mr. Ferguson does all the gardening.

He's very good in the garden.

Oh, I'm glad to hear that.

I'm sure that I could do wonders for
your campaign, Mr. Ferguson.

Super. Well, do call me Fergie.

Just one or two little points. I'd like
to iron out first.

Oh, hello, Tom.

Hello. Just telling the councillor how
we'd like to have a wee chat with you.

Oh, fine.

Fire away.

You can go about your duties, Ingrid.
Oh, no, do let Ingrid stay.

What's she doing?

Oh,

go away, you horrid little short person.

You did this deliberately.

is taking his factory elsewhere.

Fergie Ferguson has had to resign from
the residence party.

A piece of work. And Mrs. Ferguson hit
the au pair with her Volkswagen.

Splendid. Once again, you have brought
shame and disrepute on the name of

Bayview. Well, this has been a
successful day.

Come along, Jane. We have fences to
mend, apologies to make.

Coming, Harvey.

Jane, you'll touch him. Sorry.

And Marion is very upset, Dan. So would
I be if I were her.

She bit Clarissa's hamster.

Better give it a tetanus jab.

You realise that we'll never be your
neighbours now.

Oh, good. Gosh, oh, dear.

Very sad.

And I just hope that when you find you
need a new bit to keep you going, well,

I hope you don't find it and you fall to
pieces.

So there.

Come along, Geoffrey.

Let's get back to our boring, bloody
village with all those boring, bloody

peasants and all our boring, bloody
children.

Oh, God!

Help! I think she's a bit upset.

I'd better go to her.

She'll be all right, Geoffrey. Give her
a couple of aspirin, slip her under a

bus.

Soon picks up. Right, Edda. What?

Goodbye, Geoffrey.

Bye, Dad.

You don't think we're a bit mean?

I do hope so.

I wouldn't like to deny the world an
endless supply of hip bones connected to

the thigh bones.

Not to mention a leading light in local
politics.

I really enjoy myself.

Being malicious is quite good fun.

I've been telling you that for ages.

And you got involved too.

What? You got off your bottom and had a
bit of a punch -up.

So? So there's a chance you're still
alive.

You must think for one single solitary
second that you and your happy human

claptrap have had the slightest effect
upon me.

You are the one who's beginning to see
things my way.

No, no. and having a profound influence
on you. No one's ever had any influence

on me, except possibly Machiavelli. But
you've got yourself a job. You fought

the good fight.

That's my good influence. And you have
learned how to be unpleasant to your

revolting family. You are entirely under
my influence. One cuckoo doesn't make a

spring. Oh, my God, here we go. A cliché
for every occasion. A truism is not a

cliché. It reinforces the obvious. And
the obvious just about sums you up. An

obvious old fuddy -duddy. And you're an
obvious old...

Lucretia Borgia.

I bet you poisoned Harry Figgis.

Harry Figgis died in Mary Hawkins'
place.

And he was not sipping poison at the
time.

Poor old Harry.

That could have been you.

I hardly know the lady.

Make sure it stays that way.

You don't care what happens to me. I
care for you as much as you care for me.

How much is that?

Bugger all.

Absolutely.

Job dead.

And you.

Good night. Good night.

Thanks for your cup of gin.

Good idea.