All language subtitles for waiting_for_god_s02e06_the_hip_operation

And the runners are all lined up. They
are under starter's orders for this

year's derby. Diana, you really are
unspeakable.

Well, that's my job.

Diana Trent, unspeakable swine by
appointment.

You shouldn't mock the afflicted. Yes,
of course you should. They can't fight

back. You're on to a winning ticket,
mocking the afflicted.

Come on, Nelly.

Cut him off at the corner.

You can't tempt fate like that, you
know. It'll get you in the end. Oh, not

chance. The day I lay hand to walking
frame will be the day I pull the plug on

myself. My son Geoffrey said the same
thing about turning 30.

Pity he didn't listen to himself.

Please, don't wish my family dead,
Diana.

Well, they wish you dead.

That's my family. Families are allowed
to wish each other dead. It's the norm.

But if outsiders do it, it's just plain
rude.

Oh, come on. I've got something to show
you.

What is it? Just wheat.

Is it something yummy?

Oh, it is.

Can I eat it?

Not until after my niece's wedding.

It's a cake.

Marvellous. A wedding cake.

No.

What's wrong with it? Oh, nothing.

Nothing. You don't look like a
peppermint cream at all.

It is for a wedding. People wear hats
like this at weddings.

In this country?

My niece, Sarah, is the only family I
have got, and I am trying to do the

thing. Are you also going to wear bells
on your shoes?

Oh, what do you know about fashion, you
dull bumpkin?

This is supposed to be Sarah and Sam's
special day. The focus should be on

But it won't be if you turn up looking
like the Sydney Opera House.

Oh, never get it together as a maiden
art.

Oh, well, Sarah and her crook would have
understood.

Do you think Sam is a crook?

Bent to the nine -quid note. Oh, well,
at least you outwitted him. Got your

offensive daughter -in -law a business
to channel only a roast he's through.

Yes, the beauty parlor franchise was
just what Marion needed to make her a

being. And I get free facials every
week.

You what?

Just because the clock's winding down
doesn't mean you don't have to polish

case. Oh, dear God.

It must be off.

I'm having an avocado face pack this
week.

I feel pretty, oh, so pretty. I feel
pretty and witty and gay.

Far too old to start turning any of
life's great corners.

Sarah wants me to give her away.

Well, that's good, Dad. I'm very
touched.

Well, again.

She's sniping at me again, Geoffrey. No,
Dad. I mean, I got her this place.

If I hadn't outwitted Sarah's fiancée,
she'd still be sitting round the house,

popping pills and slugging gin.

She's still done that, Dad.

She's having a few problems here.

What?

She hasn't a clue what she's doing.

Oh. And she isn't making any money out
of it.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

Marion. What?

How's it going?

Oh, fine.

Fine. I'm going broke.

The place is overrun by dirty old men
expecting freebies.

Sarah's fiancé, Sam.

You might have got us the franchise for
nothing, but the small print gives him a

percentage of the growth.

He slices it off the top before we've
even deducted expenses.

Oh, dear.

It's Diana. She's had a fall.

How is she?

Wearing the place down.

Thank God she's all right.

I'd better skip the mud pack this week.

What happened?

She slipped and fell on her hip.

She was trying to throw a brick at the
gardener.

How did you find her?

Well, she was very, er, vocal.

But people in the next village
complained.

So what's the damage?

Severe fracture of the hip.

They're going to operate soon.

Have they knocked her out already?

No, she's just very tired.

Had a bit of a swear at the surgeon.

Maybe we'd better be off.

You carry on, Jane.

I'll just sit here for a moment.

You poor old duck.

Never mind, we're all here. We're all
behind you. Oh, shut up, you clawing old

woman.

What, Ho?

Good sleep?

I've been awake all along. I just didn't
want to have to listen to Jane going on

about brittle bones and taking it easy
at my time of life.

She might have a point, you know. Don't
you start. I'm going to be out of here

tomorrow. I'm taking up polo. Good idea.

Maybe we should form a trapeze act
together.

It's a bugger, isn't it? It certainly
is.

It hurts like hell, too.

Shall I get a nurse? No, no, no, it's
okay.

I want to go to this wedding, Tom.

Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. You
usually hate weddings, all those

and happy people.

It would only depress you.

But it's a matter of principle.

I said I'd be there. I don't want to
be...

Fought in my old age.

It's nothing to do with age.

You fell over, had an accident.

It could happen to anyone.

Buses don't just run over old folk, you
know.

Come on, Barry Fee.

How are you, then?

My surgeon tapped the knife.

David Davis, how do you do? Tom Ballard.

Are you the husband?

I'm not married, I've told you that
once. They all death in your valley.

A bundle of laughs, isn't she?

Yes, she puts the tank in cantankerous.

Do you mind?

I am here, you know. You're my surgeon,
you talk to me, not this buffoon. Now,

what do these say?

Oh, my God, is that me? Get your nose
out! I've got no flesh on.

Giving yourself quite a whack, my dear.

When I go in, the chances are I might
give you a new hip.

You're a ball and socket job.

There's nothing wrong with my own hip.
Bit brittle, you know.

It's the thyroid treatments.

You'll probably need a new one in a
couple of years anyway.

Tom, will you tell this Celtic dimwit
that I do not want a new hip?

Hip replacements are for the old and the
infirm.

She says she thanks you very much and
would love a new hip.

Will you bend her spleen while you're at
it?

My pleasure.

Okay, nurse.

Body snatcher.

Oh, look what you're doing. Those things
are sharp.

Take it easy, old thing.

There's nothing to be afraid of.

I am going to that wedding.

Here you are, Diana. Our usual six o
'clock gin.

What? Fill it up, you old fool.

You feel like getting legless and
beating up a log alike?

Okay.

Guess who dropped by this afternoon?

Ernest Hemingway.

He wanted us to go to Pamplona to have a
bit of a run with the bulls, but I told

him it might be a bit tricky for you at
the moment.

What?

Oh, that's not very nice, Diana.

Ernest Hemingway's a great writer. He's
not a macho old poof at all.

Tom.

What's the matter with your voice,
Diana?

I'm over here, Tom.

You sound like that idiot Baines.

Oh, look, it's the idiot Baines.

Not the idiot Baines.

You just said you were the idiot Baines.
I meant it's me.

You're talking to me, Harvey Baines. I
am not an idiot.

You said he's not an idiot.

She says, do you have that in writing?

Now, listen, Diana, I'm getting a little
tired of this constant undermining of

my authority here. And furthermore...
And furthermore, you're not even there.

Oh, yes, she is.

Even though she's under the surgeon's
knife at the moment, she absolutely

travelled here to have a cup of gin.
Isn't that so, my dear?

She says, yes, it is, you smarmy little
piggy.

Diana is not there, Tom.

It's no use, Diana.

He sees through you.

I could have been in double glazing. I
could have been...

Did you want something or did you just
drop by to spend a few minutes looking

daft?

I was assessing the ongoing situation
vis -à -vis Diana's new state.

What? I was trying to work out what
Diana was going to do now that she's

to be a cripple.

What?

Well, you know what it's like when these
old ducks start cracking up.

She won't be able to stay in this unit.

Why not?

It's not wheelchair accessible.

We might have to move her into the
garage until she can find somewhere else

live.

You're at it again, trying to get rid of
us.

Tom, Diana has broken her hip. She is
falling apart.

This isn't Cripple City here, you know.

If you can't walk upright unaided, you
can't stop here.

It's the same with toiletability.

If you can't pee solo, I'm afraid it's
goodbye.

It's subsection 4, paradigm of the
contract.

You fool.

I'm sorry?

You appallingly ignorant fool.

She's only having a hip replacement, and
that's as common as an appendix job

these days.

You end up better off than when you went
in, you great clot.

Really? Yes, really.

A new hip will give Diana a new lease of
life, and then she won't just be

slinging words at you, she'll be running
after you, hitting you about your silly

head.

Oh, that is good news.

What wonderful news. Well, my prayers
have been answered.

I must send her some flowers.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

Jane!

Cheers, old thing.

So, how did it go?

Fine. Brand new hip.

Some of my best work there. The best
that money can buy.

And it won't crack and wear out.

false bit with the teeth next and the
heart and lungs, kidneys.

God, you stick around long enough, you
get to be somebody else.

The physio people will have you up
tomorrow, walking in a few days.

Walking?

On what?

Oh, a frame to begin with, then two
sticks, then one, then none.

And after that, you can go back to the
court of ballet.

Frame? A walking frame?

news?

For a few days. Never. Sorry?

Never in a million years.

I don't understand.

She suffers from zimmophobia.

She believes that once you put your hand
on the walking frame, it is but a willy

-whisker away from the final plunge off
your perch.

Nonsense. All right. You've done your
bit. You've earned your fat fee.

Why don't you just go and jump into your
Range Rover and bugger off?

All right, OK, you sort her out, Tom.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Well, you've turned me into an old
person.

Nonsense.

If you're 35 and break a hip, they don't
bung in a new one because you'll

probably need it in a couple of years.

They'll fix the damn thingy, get on with
your life.

Bloody quacks.

Useless for women.

Before puberty, they tell you, oh, it'll
all be cured by puberty.

Then later, it'll be okay when you've
had a baby.

And then it's, oh, well, you're of a
certain age. You'll be better after the

change. And now it's, oh, well, of
course, you've got to expect these

your age. Just when is there a stage in
a woman's life when she'll be cured of

her ills without passing through some
male -defined age barrier?

I don't know. When she's dead.

Unless she's a Buddhist, in which case
they'll say, Oh, don't worry, you'll be

better in the next life.

Why do those nurses never come when you
press the damn buttons?

What do you want? I want a drink of
water. I've got a mouth like the bottom

Turkish wrestler's cold scuttle, or
whatever it's called.

I can give you that, for goodness sake.

No need to run the poor staff into the
ground.

Tom, am I being a bit of a pain in the
bum?

A bit? No.

You're just being...

A huge pain in the bum.

Well, I'm fed up.

Oh.

It's only a wound.

Flesh and bone.

They think of themselves.

It's nothing nasty. Not one of your dark
demons that lurk within and only

announce their fatal presence when their
deadly work is well nigh done.

Oh, my God, Tom. Don't start going
gothic on me.

I'm just saying it'll be all right.

It's no big deal.

You're trying to set it up as some sort
of watershed, which it isn't. I wouldn't

be seen dead on a walking train.

Well, how else will you get to that
wedding?

Well, it's simple.

They'll have to postpone it.

Can't do that, Diana.

Why not?

It's your wedding. You can have it
whenever you like.

Well, it's for financial reasons.

The end of my tax year, you see. If we
get married next Saturday, it means that

we get optimum income -splitting
advantages for the next two years.

How very romantic.

I've got the fortune to put it off.

Oh. Well, I suppose you'll need me there
anyway.

Tom's giving you away.

Maybe you'll show me the photos one day.

Never really liked that hat anyway.

I did have a word with your surgeon.

Oh, did he understand? It is Welsh, you
know.

He's also one of the most qualified hit
men in the country. And he said you

could easily attend the wedding if you
really wanted to.

But in a wheelchair, on a walking frame,
so that I can have your tedious yuppie

pals smiling at me and patting me on the
head and talking slowly and clearly in

case the old biddy doesn't understand.

That's what happens, you know.

The moment you show any outward signs of
physical infirmity, they treat you like

some kind of basket case who won't make
it beyond the vol -au -vent.

No, thank you very much.

Well, I must be off. Got to go and see
Marion and Geoffrey. What for?

Oh, just business.

Keeping the old balls in the air.

I'll see you later, darling.

Do you mind?

This is a hospital, you know.

Well,

there's no point in you hanging around
any longer.

I'm not a freak show.

Oh, get off, girl.

You're such a rock, you know. Bollocks.

No, you are.

You might strive to be a flinty old
crab, but underneath... Underneath I am

vicious old crab. clinic who hates any
overt displays of emotionalism.

What do you want?

Do you think I should marry him?

Is this a serious question?

Or are you just asking for reassurance?

I don't know.

Will you be honest with me? Not for a
second.

I shall say what I think is best for you
at the time at which I say it.

What do you think of Sam?

Oh, he is a saint amongst men.

Charming, witty, intelligent, good
-looking.

He's a dreadful con man, totally without
any scruples whatsoever.

Now, there is that side to him.

So why do I love him?

God knows.

Your father was just the same.

Totally do, Lally.

He and that mother of yours were
completely unsuited.

She was a wet little mouse, and he
couldn't stand still while there was a

left on the planet.

And what happened? They got married, he
stopped messing about, and she blossomed

into a rare beauty and brain.

And they were forced to suffer millions
of years of appalling happiness

together.

Oh, I don't know why you love your
dreadful little chiseler.

Love isn't a quantifiable or definable
product.

It's a...

Well, it's like a sort of elephant
sitting in the corner of your sitting

You can't ignore it, but if you don't do
something about it, you're going to

find yourself knee -deep in elephant
poop.

Why did you never marry? Oh, my God. Why
does everybody always ask me that

boring question?

I never married because I was a
photographer.

A photographer?

I could always see the whole picture.

I was objective.

Oh. I knew what I wanted in a husband.
He had to be this, he had to be that, da

-da, da -da, da -da. And, of course, I
should love him.

There's just one problem.

The good guys, the responsible ones, the
kind ones, well, they never threw the

magic switch.

They never lit up my promenade.

No, the firework merchants were the
pirates, the swashbuckling no -good so

-so's.

The bastards.

And you weren't going to marry one of
those?

Hoo -hoo, no.

Sam's a no -good.

A pirate.

And I... I am here.

On my own.

You mean... Maybe I should have nailed
my colours to one of those tall masts.

Even if the ship was rotten and sinking.

So? So marry a wicked charm boat.

And the moment he steps out of line, you
string him up by the offending part.

And if there's another woman involved,
drop a truck on her.

You break him down, but all the time,
you give him everything you've got.

And if at the end of it you are not
gloriously happy,

well, you can always strangle the little
sod.

Thank you, Diana.

Is that what you wanted to hear?

Of course.

Be happy, you miserable brat.

I really am sorry.

No, you're not. I am.

Not with the wedding and everything. I
feel as though you're almost family.

So you don't enjoy ripping stuff?

It's not ripping, you are, Geoffrey.
It's in all the franchise contracts.

We get a piece of the turnover of the
talk.

Which means that we run it a lot.

None of the other fellows run it a lot.
None of the other fellows are run by

total incompetence. Are you talking
about... You do.

Oh, thank you, Geoffrey.

Your efficiency problems are your
problems, not mine.

My problem is collecting what I'm owed.

That means that I'm working to support
my wife's losses.

Ow! Ow!

Ow!

Ow! Have you thought of changing your
wife? It's difficult.

Oh, shut up. Just fuck your silly
finger.

She has a bit of a problem with
interpersonal relationships.

So, if I could just have your check.

Thanks, Peter.

Hang on a tick.

Oh, still daylight.

Hello, Tom.

I didn't see you there.

Geoffrey, do you enjoy spending your
spare time here?

No, don't.

Marion, are you happy in your work?

Sam,

what happens to those who default on
their payments?

No, the franchise reverts to me and they
lose what they paid for said franchise.

Which is nothing, because I threatened
to tell Sarah what a crook you were

unless you gave them a free franchise.

Right, but, um... So it's obvious.

What is?

Geoffrey, Marion, you're not enjoying
yourselves, you're making no money. Pick

up your bed and walk.

What? You can quit.

Just like that?

Yes. I can't believe it.

Quick, out the door before Mrs. Swifty
here rewrites the contract.

Just a minute.

Bye -bye.

Marion. Thank you, Tom.

Off you go.

What about my nails?

Bite them.

It's horrible, chap.

Not at all.

You're a pretty good mover, Tom.

A real top GTI.

What about my nail?

Have you paid yet?

right with you.

I'll see you at the wedding, Tom. Oh,
and if you do ever think of going into

business, stay away from me.

Oh,

isn't it wonderful, Harvey?

What is?

Going to a wedding.

You and me going to a wedding.

Who knows?

It might give you some ideas.

You're right.

Looking at this chance does make me
think of something.

And what might that be, Carthy? I think
I might make cocoa.

If I could get baby registered as a
religious charity, we might be in with

really big tax breaks.

Oh, Jeff, really, life is so wonderful.

That's because you're drunk, dear. Yes.

It's so nice to be back to the old me,
drunk and stupid.

Here comes the groom, the rotten
bastard.

I think he's got sexy.

Jeff! Could you do me a favour? I've
lost my best man.

Did you do that?

I had to fire him this morning.

Wasn't he also your brother?

Yes, but he's out now anyway. So I was
wondering if you could do the honour for

me. He'd love to.

No, I wouldn't. I think you're a swine.

500 quid?

Have you got the ring?

Not for a couple of hours.

I always cry at wedding.

Come to your seat, Jane.

Sorry, Oliver.

Such a shame Diana isn't here.

Very sad.

Poor Diana.

Let's hope things don't go terribly
wrong and she gets gangrene and has to

her leg up.

Do I look all right?

You look fine, Tom.

I always get nervous at weddings.

When Jane Russell and I tied the knot, I
nearly fainted right away.

It's all right. It's just a bit dark.

What a pity Diana couldn't be here.

Pride, I'm afraid.

Pride. Coupled with a manic desire to be
miserable at all costs.

You'd better go.

We'd better hang on a second.

Come on, you silly fools. Get out of my
way.

All right, you crocs. Quick march.

What is it?

It's Diana Brando and the Wild Bunch.

Tasteless. No.

Mother Zimba, that's all.

Get off of it.