All language subtitles for waiting_for_god_s02e01_counselling_for_the_dying

Man that is born of a woman hath but a
short time to live and is full of

He cometh up and is cut down like a
flower.

He fleeth as it were a shadow and never
continueth in one stay.

In the midst of life we are in death.

Of whom may we seek for succor but of
thee, O Lord, who

I have to go.

It's an important meeting.

What did he say?

He says if he doesn't shut up and show a
bit of respect, we're quite at liberty

to beat him to a pulp and bung him in on
top of old Sid here.

We'll see you back at the ranch.

Come on, Jane.

Harvey! He's not a resident anymore.

He struggles with the living.

And with me.

Yes, Harvey.

Have you forgotten the words?

Certainly not. Well, get on with it,
then.

I couldn't stand Harry Palmer.

Are you staying?

Oh, yes.

I didn't mind, old Harry.

Harry? Harry Palmer.

The name of the deceased is Esme
Walters.

Harry Palmer was this morning.

Oh. Oh, dear.

I didn't know this lady.

Are you staying, then?

Oh, yes.

How do you do, Miss Gordon?

I am sorry we didn't meet before this.

Never too late to make a new friend. Do
continue.

Like as a father pitieth his own
children, even so is the Lord merciful

them that fear him.

For he knoweth whereof we are made.

He remembereth that we are but dust.

Poor old Harry.

Another green bottle falls off the wall?

Yes, into the hole in the bottle bag.

Little chance of recycling?

Oh, Harry will be recycled.

He was a Buddhist.

Since when? Since Wednesday.

He joined the whole lot just in case.

Buddhist, Catholic, Greek Orthodox.

Even the Hare Krishnas dropped in.

Very hated them.

All that chanting.

Right. Push off, he said.

In fact, that was the last thing he said
as one of the silly sods tripped over

his life support lead.

Is that true?

No.

Pity. It has a certain glorious irony to
it.

Oh, Harry was a good man.

He'll probably return as a humble
peasant toiling in the field.

Why? Well, nothing they reckon is the
last step before Nirvana. The simple,

uncomplicated peasant.

Bollocks.

idea was invented by the rich bastards
to keep the simple peasants happy in

their rotten, soggy fields.

Believe me, I've been in a paddy. You're
always in a paddy.

A rice paddy, you ding -a -ling.

If being a simple peasant is the top
notch on the wheel of life, you can

it.

Diana, you have no soul.

Tom, souls don't exist.

That's only your opinion. You should
keep it to yourself.

Rubbish. It's my holy mission in life.

To blow raspberries at other holy
missions.

But had it ever occurred to you, you
might be wrong.

Why should it never occur to any of
them?

Possibly the Church of England.

Poor old souls.

They don't even know which way is up.
Never mind whether God's black, white or

green with three heads.

Oh, come on, Diana.

Stop it. You must not blaspheme.

You'll be struck by a lightning bolt.

In fact, I think I'll stand over here.

Never too sure about the old divine
accuracy.

Oh, don't be so daft. Doesn't happen.
Look.

Come on, God. You heard me. I don't
believe in you.

How about a quick belt of the old
megavolt frizzle -frazzle? Diana, for

sake. I mean for your sake.

Take no notice, God.

She's old. She's senile. She's quite...

She was yelling at God again.

Oh, you don't have to shout to be heard
by God, Diana.

God is omnipresent.

And he's all around us.

Well, God is a nosy so -and -so.

Oh, Diana.

Look, what do you want, Jane? Or did you
just drop in for a bit of light

limpering? Don't you be rude to Jane.
She is the way she is. There's no need

make it worse for her. Thank you, Tom.

Purpose, woman.

I just wanted to explain about leaving
the grave.

Leaving the grave?

Yes.

Like Lazarus?

No, me.

And when did you leave the grave, Jane?

This afternoon.

And when did you die?

I haven't died, Tom.

Well, that's cheating, Jane. You can't
rise from the dead if you haven't died.

I mean, Lazarus would never have got his
top billing in the Bible if he'd come

out of the tomb saying, Hello!

I've just written from the dead.

When everyone knew he'd been down at the
pub.

You can't cheat your way into world
history, Jane.

Can't you, Diana? Oh, absolutely not.

I was referring to my premature
departure from the gravesite this

And what was Harvey's important
engagement?

Oh, he had to feed Taylor.

Oh, good, I am glad.

We may all be dropping like flies, but
at least we can be happy in the

that Harvey will see us off in the best
that polyester can offer.

Please, Diana.

I came to talk about Harry and his
death.

Well, what about it?

Well, we don't want it to happen again.

Well, of course it will happen again.

Not while Harry remains dead.

No, I mean we don't want people dying on
their own.

Oh, you mean you want us to pop off in
groups?

No, I mean into the minibus and over the
nearest cliff.

She means that a dying person should not
be alone.

Yes, and there should be more than four.

People round the grave side.

Those people should be at the right
grave at the right time. Yes.

Surrounded by friends and relatives.
Right.

And little children. Yes. And passing
revelers, jugglers, acrobats, clowns,

people with webbed feet. Oh, shut up.

It's a horrible idea.

The last thing you want when you're
trying to eke out your final gasp is a

of bloody sightseers snuffling around,
whipping things off your mantelpiece.

Well, with that.

When I go, I want to go solo, thank you
very much.

Oh, well, you're just very odd, Diana.

I'm sure Tom wouldn't want to be on his
own.

Absolutely not.

I'm going to be attended by a phalanx of
Viking warriors.

Oh, what?

Don't ask.

I'm going to have a Viking funeral, tied
to the mast of my ship and shoved off

into the mist.

Farewell, Tom Dragonslayer, ye noble
raper and pillager.

Well, pillaging at any rate.

Go to prove of the rape bit. Never
understood why they had to go together

which did you do first.

You wouldn't want to be raping while the
others were pillaging.

Burning rafters crashing down on your
bouncing bum.

Jane,

will you please say what you came to say
or we'll all be dead.

Well, I think... Yes?

I think we should care more for each
other.

But that's it, is it? That's your great
message?

Yes. How wet.

Well, I think it's a very good idea.

I want to make it official policy.

What does our favourite enema say about
that?

Well, Harvey said... Harvey is happy to
discuss any new ideas.

As long as it doesn't cost him anything.

There's far too much isolation around
here.

We should all be reaching out to each
other.

Talking, feeling...

Loving one another. So that never again
does a resident reach that final hour

without oodles of love and companionship
to help them on their way across the

great shining plain.

Here, here.

I'm with you, Jane. Oh, good, Tom.

Diana? I think I'm going to be sick.

Voilà, Antonio.

An ultra weed.

Pullay it up.

God, dismal Lisbon riffraff.

Bloody back.

Do something, you fool.

Grass, are you?

Help me to that seat.

Oh, OK, then.

Come on, then.

Bad back, is it? No, Basil, it's an
ingrowing toenail.

What brought this on? Well, I have a
nasty little pseudo

-arthritic complaint which is kept at
bay with steroids. But they make my

very brittle.

Ah.

There, there.

Would you like me to give you a massage?

No, I would not, you filthy little
beast.

You all know about the Basil Makepeace
Massage Parlour, thank you. I give a lot

of pleasure and comfort.

Don't boast.

That's all I was ever any good at.

Well, don't try it with me.

Oh, I won't with you, Diana. God forbid.

You must be terrifying in bed.

Me?

Yelling and shouting and...

Giving people orders.

Is there any other way?

Where's Tom?

He's going round asking people how they
feel.

See?

What's he up to?

God knows.

I shouldn't think he's too sure either.

Well, I must be off.

There's a new girl, Tess, in number
five.

She's giving me the eye.

He laughs.

He's in training.

You wait, Basil. The hard -line
feminists will get you. One day you'll

to bits by boiler -suited varagos
outside your shirt makers.

I'll get Tom to give you a hand.

What do you think?

Oh, no.

No, no, it's not good, Jane. No, Harvey.

What's not good?

Well, the profit forecast for the coming
financial year.

Oh, they don't look too bad. Yes, but
they used to be massive.

I mean, these sort of places used to
knock the spots off pine forests and

offshore stuff.

And it was legal, too.

Well,

frankly, Jane, there's got to be a bit
of belt tightening.

The board of directors met in Antigua
the other day and they made some

decisions.

Now, Jane, instead of salary...

How do you feel about points in the net
profits?

What does that mean?

Well, you'd work harder to cut costs.

Starting with your own salary.

Everything cuts the bone as it is.

Well, maybe... Yes, maybe we could cut
back on the quality of the food and then

they'd eat less.

It'd shorten their stay here, though.

Oh, that's another thing, Jane. Turn
around.

No,

not you, Jane. Turn around at the
residence.

Every time one dies, it takes too long
to get them out.

Get the place released and the cash flow
rolling in again.

There must be a bit of dignity in
decorum, Harvey.

Dignity is an expensive luxury, Jane.

And there's certainly no profit in
decorum.

What now?

Oh, do come in, Tom. Don't bother to
knock.

Yes, why don't you sit down? Thank you.

Well, what can I do for you?

The care for the dying programme. I'm
sorry, Tom. We can't afford a resident

counsellor. You don't have to.

I'm going to do it. Oh, dear.

I can't afford to pay you either.

Well, I don't want any money.

I just want to help my fellow prisoners.

Resident, Tom.

Resident.

You mean you do the job with no
financial benefit to yourself?

It's called voluntary service, Harvey.

Fascinating. Voluntary service.

Well, you should think about that, Jane.

Tom, this job needs somebody with
training.

Nonsense. If Tom wants to do it for
free, he's trained enough for me.

I think I'll put it in the new brochure.

The baby retirement village.

Let us help you die.

What do you think, Jane? Oh, Harvey.

So what have you got there, Tom?

This is my third day.

It's very important.

It's also very private.

Tom, I know you mean well, but if you
are untrained, I fear you may do

more harm than good by cancelling the
dying without knowing what you're doing.

Jane, I'm not daft, I'm not callous, and
I'm certainly not stupid. I'm going to

get some training.

Community centre, Montbrave.

What's he up to?

Coping with death and informal
discussion.

That sounds a bundle of laughs.

Psychotherapy is seldom a brief process.
Yes.

Excuse me. Are you the dying lot?

No, we're lesbian awareness.

Sorry.

What do they want to do something they
are

absolutely incapable of?

Firstly, you let them decide just what
they're capable of.

But what if it's a totally loopy idea?

Running the marathon on half a lung or
something?

Tell them they're crazy.

Nicely, of course.

Oh, yes, of course.

Now, the other main thing is listening.

Listen, listen, listen.

For hours, days if necessary.

Let them get it all off their chest,
even if it means they're repeating

themselves every five minutes.

I'm a very good listener.

Good. Now, there are a few practices...
In fact, listening's about all I'm good

at these days.

Now, when it comes to me... I'd be a
good listener.

My mother used to say to me, Tom, you're
a great listener.

Yes.

Fine.

And now I spend hours listening to you.

Well, I'm not a great listener.

Well, would you mind listening to me for
a minute?

Of course.

Yes, absolutely.

I'm sorry.

Thank you.

Now... You'll find I'm a very good
listener.

Now let's move on to the late terminal
stages, where a patient is to all

in a non -communicating coma state.

Remember this one thing.

You don't know whether they can hear you
or not, so don't say anything you

wouldn't say to their faces.

Like how they don't like the Swedish?

What? Well, that might upset them.

Why?

They might be Swedish.

I think we'll break for a cup of tea
now.

So your husband is a bank manager, eh?

Well, that's a real coincidence test,
because as it happens, I'm very good at

massage.

should put in the brochure, you know.

Basil, the sex pistol.

Never mind your counselling for the
dying. Just tell the old ducks they'll

the best servicing this side of the
grave. They'll be climbing over the

Don't be vulgar, Diana.

Mind you, if that one gets up steam, we
may never see the little beggar again.

Diana! Sorry?

What were you saying?

Well? I wonder if we ought to buy him
some distress flares.

Diana!

Do you want to know about my survey, or
don't you? Oh, just tell me about your

boring survey.

Well, as a former accountant and
statistician, I've interviewed the

read their personalities, medical
histories, and sorted them into types,

which I can predict their probable
lifespans.

Well, you mean you've worked out a
timetable of when they're going to snuff

Sort of. Oh, great tech.

So, from this list, I can work out who I
ought to be counselling for their

meeting with Mr Grim Reaper Esquire.

You're mad as a cusp.

Never heard anything so dark, predicting
who's going to die when. Just sup your

soup and shut up.

Counselling, smonkelling.

Diana. What?

You've led a very full and rewarding
life, haven't you?

I'll bloody kill you.

Yes, well, I think it's very admirable,
Dad.

Don't you, dear?

What? Birth counselling.

is on the council?

No, dear.

Counselling. Talking to people who need
help.

I do not need help. I'm fine.

Right, I am. Fine.

Everything's totally under control.

Is she all right?

I mean all right within the very limited
terms one would use the word in

relation to burial.

She's breaking in a new tranquiliser.

Seems to be working.

What were you thinking about high -risk
groups, Dad?

Yes, well, I check with a few quacks,
and my fieldwork is pretty accurate.

Oh, fascinating.

And where would I come on your risk
ladder?

Oh, you're way down low on the list,
Geoffrey.

Non -smoking, non -drinking, stamp
-collecting, liberal Democrat.

You'll live for years and do absolutely
nothing.

So there's something to be said for
being me, after all. I didn't say that.

What about Marion? What's her risk
factor?

Don't let us start any long shopping
lists.

Tom!

Tom! Out here!

What is it? It's Basil.

What? I think you'd better come.

Oh.

What happened?

I don't know.

Oh, with her twanky there, I probably
rolled over and flattened the poor

chap.

Have you got a crack?

Harvey's a bit concerned about the, uh,
circumstances.

What? Well, he wouldn't look too good in
the papers.

Pensions?

Well, you know.

Thingy. All over the place.

Coronary. Get the doctor at once, you
bloody fool. All right, all right.

Jane, get Tess back to her place.

And not a word to anyone.

It's a respectable retirement village,
not a geriatric knocking shop.

Has he gone?

No, he's still with us.

Can you hear me?

Baz?

He may be on the brink. Oh, my God.

He's probably half in and half out. Of
what?

Of his body.

The transition phase, it's called.

I expect he's hovering about above us,
watching all this.

Basil, stop frigging about and get the
bloody hell back down here immediately.

That's not the way to do it.

His going must be a warm experience.

What do you mean? You're going to set
fire to him? No.

Just be quiet.

Basil Chum.

You have every reason to be happy. A
great life.

Lived, travelled, loved, definitely
loved.

Remember, we love you too.

Most profoundly.

Don't we, Diana?

Love? Him? Yes.

It's all right, I suppose.

Kiss him, Diana.

Me? Yes.

Well, now what are we supposed to do?

Hold hands and concentrate our spiritual
energies.

Come on, hold hands.

His. As well.

And concentrate.

This is...

Rubbish, Tom. Surely we should be
bashing him on the chest or something.

Just do it, woman.

The man is dying.

Christ.

Goodness, love, God, and the power of
light to be with you, Basil.

Detail.

My fault. Of course it was.

You were the one who came running in in
a panic in the flat, Doodle. Well,

you're supposed to be the expert.

Well, I don't think he was asleep.

I think it was our combined prayers for
him that brought him back.

He said he was asleep.

He denied all knowledge of floating
around the light fittings.

He said he woke up to find a couple of
nutters by his bedside.

You were far too hasty.

Yes.

You're probably right.

I remember when I lived with Marion and
Geoffrey, all I had to do was to nod off

in front of the telly and she was out
with the measuring tape and the

fluid.

Ambulances, doctors.

Randy Midgett was just having a kip.

I felt very silly.

Would you have preferred that he had
really died?

Yes, absolutely.

Would have been a lot less embarrassing.

In the future, if he wishes to bonk
himself into oblivion...

You're such a wonderful person.

I think when you die, you should be
stuffed and mounted.

Like an eagle with talons on a branch
and a dead stoat in your mouth.

What, oh, Jane, has Widow Tescott over
her palpitations yet?

Jane?

I tucked her in.

She was really glad that Basil was fine.

She went to sleep with a smile on her
face.

And? And then she passed.

Have you called her family?

No, she hasn't any.

She was all alone.

Well, we'll have to put that to rights.

In the midst of life, we are in death.

Of whom may we seek for succour? What of
thee, O Lord?

Who for our sins art justly displeased?

There's steel bands a bit over the top.

Oh, I don't like it.