All language subtitles for waiting_for_god_s04e07_adult_education

Come on, Tom, get a move on. Time in art
class is weak for no man.

I am the famous explorer, not the famous
native bearer. Just count yourself

lucky I don't sculpt sodding great
blocks of marble. Come on.

Diana!

You stupid old cow!

Are you OK?

A bit of a shock.

Look, get out of the bloody way, will
you?

You fix the little... I just want to ask
one question. What? Have you got a

small willy?

You see, I read this article. It said
that drivers who yell at women are

probably suffering from the old button
mushroom syndrome.

Now, go away.

But you shouldn't let it worry you
because they also said that size doesn't

matter. Or were they talking about ears?

Can't remember.

Anyway... Don't you fret about your wee
-willy -winky problem, because I don't

suppose many women even notice.

Ugly little short -arsed ruts like you.

Look,

go away, will you?

He didn't clobber him, then? Plenty of
ways of killing a cat, Diana.

Silly old woman.

It wasn't your fault.

I was talking about you.

Raoul, Raoul, it's Harvey.

I'm in a crisis.

Well, of course, about my hair.

I'm not going to ring my coiffurist
about my feet, am I?

No, I think we may have overdone the
MacArthur oil deep heat treatment.

Yes, yes, I know it gives a soft, wavy
look, durian quality, guaranteed to turn

heads when one enters the room.

But now it's all falling out.

I'm not getting hysterical.

I mean, why should I get hysterical?
Just because I'm sitting here knee -deep

my own hair?

Just because I'm shedding like a bloody
Labrador?

Just because I'll be like an albino
bowling ball by lunchtime? Why should I

hysterical? What?

How many have come out so far?

Millions? Well, thousands, then
hundreds?

Eighths?

I've got them on the desk here in front
of me and... Raoul! No, Raoul!

This shouldn't happen to one of life's
winners.

I shouldn't be sitting here getting
nowhere while my hair leaps off my head

rats leaving a sinking dip.

Get back on, you stupid follicle.

Yes, Jane, what is it? Can't you see I'm
in a crisis?

This came.

It's from the council inspector.

She's making her visit this week.

Organise everything, Jane.

disarm the residents and try and stop
them spitting at the woman.

Just don't bother me with trivia.

Have you hurt your head, Harvey?

No. No, there's nothing wrong with my
head.

Or my hair.

I've got a fine head of hair and it'll
remain like that until I die.

There's been no hair loss in my family
since Elizabeth I.

Wasn't she bald? No, don't mention that.
Hurry,

Harvey. And tell Jenny, when she does my
room... to sweep it minutely with a

dustpan and brush, and she must bring me
whatever she finds. Have you lost

something? No, no.

No, nothing at all.

No, and I won't either.

Now, now, now, go away.

I expect they'll put a plaque up here
one day.

Diana Trent, R .A., studied here.

Tom Ballard, F .A.

Got dead.

Darling, it's so ghastly.

What's going on?

No class today, darling.

Of course there's a class today. It's
Thursday, isn't it?

Are we to adult education cutbacks? Our
class will be suspended until further

notice. What?

We've been asked, darling. along with
needlework, quilt -making and taxidermy.

Good gracious!

Don't tell me taxidermy's stuffed.

It is an outrage. What are you going to
do about it, Gloria?

What do you mean, what am I going to do
about it? What can I do about it?

Pathetic. Come on, Tom.

Deputy heads are going to roll.

Hello, Miss French.

How nice to see you.

Unmiserable Vivigoth. Why have you
stopped the art classes?

My funds have been cut. I can only
maintain the essential concession

What is more essential than art classes?

The over -60s keep -fit classes.

Nonsense. What is the point of
prolonging the life of the body if you

mind get soggy? It is not my decision.
It comes from the council.

What is Mr Ballard doing?

I'm a piece of living art.

I'm Gilbert and George.

You're Brahms and List.

I am trying to educate, but tell the
Viking here.

I'm sorry. Unless the cuts are restored
by the council, there is nothing I can

do. Good morning, Miss Trent, and please
take her to the bit with you.

Looks like another punch -up at City
Hall.

I think I'd look rather good in the
gallery.

Providing I was well hung, of course.

It's quite simple, Miss Trent.

The policy has changed.

It used to be that Westminster
stipulated what percentage of local

to be spent on adult education.

But now they leave it to us as to how
much is allocated.

And you don't think that art classes for
the elderly are worth a fig?

Because by the time the next council
elections come along, the old buggers

be dead anyway.

So why waste money on them?

These are hard times, Miss Trent.

We haven't the income of the 80s.

So we have to allocate according to what
we deem to be the priorities.

And what are they?

Mobile phones for local councillors?

Moist creches for the offspring of
radical, sexually and vertically

persons?

A hospice for the dying.

A shelter for the homeless.

And a post -operative care centre for
cancer patients.

All right, all right.

We don't have to look so smug.

You have a point.

But you don't know what it is like round
here for the elderly.

Or round anywhere for the elderly, come
to that.

There are 24 long, bloody hours in every
day.

And you have to fill them.

You can't spend the time playing
tiddlywinks with your valium.

Or trying to remember the bonk you had
on VE Day.

You can't talk to your fellow man.

These concessionary classes may appear
to be a token shop that can be cut as

soon as the old piggy bank stops
rattling, but they are a lifeline to the

who use them.

They look forward to them.

It is something to get out of bed for in
the morning.

You can't cut them.

They're like yanking out the plug on the
old iron lung.

Bad for the health, old cock.

I'm sorry, not good enough.

What are you going to do?

Yes, what?

I'm retiring soon, so I can say what I
like now.

I've had a right noseful of you two for
the last few years.

Every time someone breaks wind in the
wrong direction, you're in here

about your rights and bleeding all over
the carpet.

Local government is to keep things
running and to look after the really

not to be constantly wiping your ancient
and pampered bodies.

Diana, don't kill him.

I admire his courage.

What exactly are you saying with these
last words of yours?

You are in reasonable health. You are
not poor. You are not incapable.

So apart from screaming the roof off
every ten minutes, what are you doing

your fellow pensioners?

Hmm?

introducing... Will you

stop that?

I cannot hear my old traditional folk
song.

I am cleaning the grouting between the
tiles.

Your lasagna sauce gets right into the
grouting.

I can't stand grubby grouting.

Grubby grouting is an anathema to me.
There is no place in a decent universe

grubby grouting.

And introducing Harold Pinter on
dialogue.

Oh.

He was right.

Who was right?

No one's ever right in your life.

David, the counsellor from hell. He was
right.

Then we will have to get the art classes
going ourselves.

We'll have to get those art classes
going ourselves.

First we have to find premises.

First thing we've got to do is find the
premises.

The dining room? We might try the... Do
you mind?

It's bad enough sharing the same life
with you. I do not wish to share the

brain cells.

I will talk to Harvey.

I have already done so.

He said, over his dead body.

Sounds a reasonable option.

Going crackers.

Would you like to put some cheese on us?

Sorry? What do you want, Jane, or have
you just come round here to be wet?

It's Harvey.

I'm very worried about his behaviour.

Grave robbing again, is he?

He seems to be under a lot of stress.

Oh, dear. Poor little treasure.

He thinks life has passed him by.

Yeah, well, we must just get life not to
pass him by. We must get life to back

up and run him over.

What's his problem this time?

He's become obsessed with his bodily
functions.

I don't think I want to hear about this.

He thinks his hair's falling out and
he's having nightmares.

He dreams about big blackheads chasing
him round the countryside.

He's bought a little kit.

Well, nor does anyone else.

Dreadful little hemorrhoid.

He's very close to the edge.

He could have a breakdown.

Well, good, then we can have him towed
away.

Oh, Diana!

Diana, stop being so vile. The child is
distressed.

Now, Jane, what can we do for you?

The council inspector's making her
rounds again.

Oh, goody. Oh!

women in the potting shed.

Good for Harvey.

Not a chance, Jane. We take no
prisoners.

Hush, Diana.

It's all right, Jane.

We will behave like the considerate
human beings that he isn't.

Oh, thank you.

That would be most appreciated and most
conducive to harmony and stress

reduction. Bless you. Bye -bye.

Poor old Jane.

Always piggy in the middle. Well, I'm
not laying off, are they? Oh, if he's

down, let's shove him over the edge.

Not sure.

He's been a bit odd lately.

Maybe we should ease up.

Rubbish! Just think we're going soft.
Have us down the glue factory before you

can say pustular little zit.

No! Why, he's still got a jugular. Let's
go for it.

No.

I think I'll go and look for some
artistic premises.

You see, I want you to put yourself in
the position of Michelangelo. The

hairdresser in the mall.

The Italian painter.

Supposing he turned up for work one
morning, clocked in at the Vatican,

along to the Sistine Chapel, fully
intent to bung another cherub on the

Could you get to the point, Dad? I have
to give Volvo a good buffing.

Not the old Volvo.

Well, suppose he found the Sistine
Chapel closed with a note on the door

owing to papal cutbacks, art had been
cancelled.

Well, what would he do?

Have a large gin and tonic.

Geoffrey? I don't know, Dad. I mean
yoghurts and cheese slices, not

conundrums. Well, think about it.

What would you do?

Find somewhere else to paint, I suppose.

Exactly. Now do you see what I'm getting
at?

No.

Diana and her artists have been denied
one building, so they need another.

Well, that's jolly interesting, Dad, but
I'm not quite sure why you've come all

the way over here, got Marian out of bed
in the middle of the day.

An interrupted Volvo's bar time to tell
us all this.

Because I want to hire your house for
the artist's group to meet one morning a

week. What?

Worth 20 quid a time.

Oh, great.

Book the villa in Antigua. Call Princess
Margaret to tell her we'll buy her.

Well, there could be a bit extra as
well.

How so?

Marion could model for them.

You know, life model.

All you have to do is to lie there and
not move.

Jeffy says that's all you do anyway.

Is that what Jeffy says?

Well, of course I did.

Dad's just kidding.

Aren't you, Dad?

No, I'm sure that's what you said.
Remember, down at the rugby club, the

the team thought it was very funny.
Couldn't see the joke myself.

Marion, no.

Not to Volvo.

Me rather than Volvo.

Does this mean we can't use your place,
Geoffrey?

Then she just sort of went trapo and
biff poor old Geoffrey all round the

garden.

And you can't understand why?

I thought at first that it might be
something I'd said, but I'm not sure

Oh, Tom.

What was that for?

It's just an appreciation of the fact
that there are still some people who

come through this life completely
unscathed. Oh, jolly good.

But that still leaves us without
artistic premises.

We need that dining room. The council's
inspection is tomorrow. We'll never get

our Yul Brynner to change his mind. I
don't know.

I think I might try a bit of
extraordinarily subtle, almost

psychology on the little creep.

Garotte him with a cheese wire. Yes.

Why don't you let me have another go at
him first?

Yeah.

Maybe if I was taller.

Yes.

Tall people get all the breaks.

Their hair doesn't blow away in the
wind.

Good heavens. The bald -headed prima
donna.

Look. I'm sure you'll be guaranteed to
turn heads when I come into a room.

I wear this for aerodynamic reasons.

Cut down wind with it.

Very clever.

And original, Harvey.

So good to see a fine mind at work.

What do you want?

Um, the dining room.

Forget it. It comes with a building.

Not to take it away.

To use it. You already do.

That's where you eat, or hadn't you
noticed?

I meant between meals. Once a week for
our art classes.

It's out of the question.

Why? Because.

Because what? Because life is a crisis,
Tom.

It's one long string of crises.

This is, this is, this is, this is.

Avoid them, or they'll kill you.

So if you've got half an ounce of fence
to rub together, you don't let a bunch

of old crackpots with paintbrushes clog
up your dining room and make it all

mucky -yucky so as when your counselling
inspector comes round and says, uh -oh,

what a mess, I'd better take your
licence away and give you another

great crisis to sort out if that one
hasn't killed you already.

Now, do I make myself clear?

OK, OK.

Keep your wig on.

This is not a wig!

Oh, God.

What have I done?

I could put them flat.

So, how did it go?

I think you'd better lay off.

He's a bit disturbed.

I knew you couldn't manage.

Never mind. I have called up
reinforcement.

Who?

Here she comes.

Hello, Gloria.

Darling, how can I be of assistance?

I wonder if I could have a...

Hair from your head, Iris.

What for?

Just as a souvenir of our grand passion,
I'd like to have a single hair from all

my wild women.

I'll have enough for the full wig next
year.

I'm not at all sure about all this,
Diana.

Well, don't pick up the racket if you
haven't got the ball.

Well,

you'll be here in a minute, so you
remember who you are and what to do. Do

to take the little chappy home with me?

You're a very thick person. Here he
comes.

Basil, stand by.

All right?

Everybody happy?

I'm not, but don't worry about me.

Nobody worries about you, Harvey, except
me, of course, but I don't count, do I?

No, so there.

Well, any complaints?

Yes, I've got a hair in my soup.

It's wild and black.

alopecia, Harvey. What does a billiard
ball remind you of? What do you use that

for sofa with? Do you remember Kojak?

Oh, my.

Stop it!

Stop it!

Diana, how could you?

Yes. Yes, you are right, Jane. I'm
sorry.

We must not make fun of Harvey. He
really is quite a decent fellow.

What is it?

Nothing, nothing. Just a couple of
hairs. Oh, Jane, you're going to have to

hoover this carpet.

Not worried about your hair, are you? Of
course not.

Just because it's all deserted me, why
should I worry?

Well, you shouldn't, because today is
your lucky day.

It is? Oh, yes. You see my friend over
here? She is a psychologist.

What's that?

Hair expert.

Oh, my God, I have to talk to you. Do
sit down, darling.

Now, then, what can Gloria do for you?

Apart from the blindingly obvious.

The dining room's hardly the place for
that, is it?

You have to help me.

How?

You've got to stop it falling out all
the time.

What's she doing?

Not what you think.

Yes. You're not pulling any out, are
you? I'm stimulating the blood vessels,

activating the porous potential of your
divine scalp.

Now, let's take a closer look.

You see, the head is like a map.

By feeling the contours of your skull, I
can tell you everything about yourself.

Down to the weather on the day you were
born.

What was it?

Dull.

Oh! What is it? For God's sake, what is
it?

Oh, the problem isn't in or on your
head.

No, it's off my head in great tough.

It's in yourself.

Eh? Your inner self doesn't feel you're
beautiful.

Doesn't it? Your inner self secretly
feels that you are a feeble failure.

Well, whose side is it on?

also tells me that you have the
intellectual insight of a carrot and

that you shave between your eyebrows and
it also tells me that you dream you're

being pursued around the countryside by
giant blackheads. Oh, come on, stop,

stop.

It's all true.

Oh, God, I can't bear it, but it's all
true.

I'm hopeless, I'm useless, I've done
nothing with my life.

I'm a dreadful, shallow phony.

And soon I'll be a bald, shallow phony.
I've got to give up.

Diana, you must stop this now. He's
cracking up. No, he's not.

This is wrong.

You're going too far.

I want no more to do with it.

There is a way forward, Harvey.

There is? You must speak firmly with
your inner self and strengthen your ego.

But how?

Now then, what is the most egocentric
and...

most glorifying thing a person can do?

Join the Young Conservatives?

No. Have his portrait painted.

What, and that would stop me losing my
hair? Bound to.

So the more portraits, the more hair?
Right.

So if I have ten portraits painted,
would I be hairier than a Spaniard's

shoulder? No, but I can't. Why not?

It would cost money.

Oh, not necessarily.

I'm sure a smart fellow like you could
find some way of having it done.

On the cheap.

What are you trying to do, anyway?

Yesterday, he would not let us use the
dining room. Today, he will let us use

the dining room for our art classes.

Maybe. And tomorrow, he will be
modelling for us.

Never. Want to bet?

No. I think you're taking all this too
far. The man's unstable.

Your sport could send him totally
doodally.

Rubbish! He hasn't got the intelligence
to go mad.

dining room for your art classes.

On one condition.

And what could that possibly be?

You have to paint him.

We'd prefer to stick to campus.

As a model.

He wants half a dozen portraits of
himself.

Half a dozen?

Seems to think that'll stop his hair
falling out.

Doesn't he know it's a life class?

What's that?

He'll have to pose in the nuddy. Oh.

He says he wants to be dressed.

in a manner befitting his position.

Has he got a pantomime horse's costume?

Oh, Diana.

In his almost Armani suit.

Hard luck, Diana.

Oh, I don't think that's a good idea,
Jane. I mean, after all, he is our

our commander -in -chief, our emperor.

Our fiddling little Nero.

I think he needs to be wearing something
more classical.

You're right.

And he likes ice cream.

I will even make the costume myself.

Oh, how wonderful.

I'll go and tell him. Bye.

Life, class.

Even Baines isn't stupid enough to set
himself up naked in a public place.

Yes. Yes, I suppose you're right. Silly
idea. Never mind. At least we've got the

premises and the model.

I'll just have to be happy with that.

Ah, Mrs. Pershaw.

Yes?

Harvey Baines of Bayview asked me to
drop by to see if you'd mind making your

inspection a day earlier. It appears
that we have an outing arranged for the

following day.

Yes, I think I can manage that.

I'll confirm it with Baines. No, don't
worry, I'll do it. Sure.

Oh, yes, yes, no problem.

Bye.

Oh, yes.

Bow on the shoulder, Jane. I always had
a bow on the shoulder. Oh, right.

Now, Harvey, hands. Now, one here,
though, and the other... So, yes,

in the Senate.

Oh, dear.

What?

Panty line.

What? I can see your unders through the
sheet. You'll have to slip them off.

Yes.

Caligula didn't wear jockey shorts.

Oh, right.

Oh, excuse me.

What are you doing?

Little me.

What's the matter? Nothing, nothing.
You're doing fine. Just turn your head

way. That's it. Chin up so we can see
that nice firm jawline.

Come on, girl. I haven't got all day.
Oh, God.

Harvey! No, not now, Jane. Can't you see
I'm posing?

Please!

Um, Councillor, to impress the board.

Jane is taking him to a clinic. Clinic?
He's not pregnant, is he? It's a

psychiatric clinic.

Oh, don't be so silly.

There's nothing wrong with him. You just
don't see, do you?

What do you mean? He's blown a head
gasket, for goodness sake.

Couldn't you see that?

He's just a bit upset.

He's calling for his mother.

It's not my fault.

And you damn well didn't help, did you?

No -one's any fun any more.