All language subtitles for waiting_for_god_s05e06_harvey_the_priest

They still haven't sent it.

Of course they haven't.

Delivery in ten days, it says here.

That's an American magazine.

So?

They're not allowed to send Kalashnikov
assault rifles to British pensioners.

It's against the law.

What about my nine -millimetre armour
-piercing shells?

I thought I was a loony round here.

They're straight through a wall, they
would.

I thought I might take out the idiot
Baines as he was sitting upon his

potty.

That's why we have gun laws on our
blessed land. To keep the nutters

sniping around in fantasy land instead
of up towers of shopping centres.

Ah, the boy Geoffrey and the girl Jane.

Oh, ow!

Go off my flaming foot.

If thy foot offend thee, cut it off.

The damn thing won't heal, driving me up
the wall.

It's so kind of you to help me with the
shopping.

Harvey always makes me take the bus.

Pleasure, Jane.

I think Volvo really likes you.

Oh, that's nice.

Not sure he'd ever like Marion.

No, no, Geoffrey.

I think they're at it.

No, I do not.

Geoffrey's still married to Marion.

He's got to stop Marion swinging by her
knickers from the traffic lights.

Geoffrey is a very model lad.

And Jane is forever Harvey's.

I think that's wearing a bit thin these
days.

Shut up!

Oh, God, what a night.

Or was it a day?

Who knows?

I want to know what you've been up to,
Geoffrey.

Your whole bedroom manner has changed
out of all recognition.

And you got all hairy.

Smelly.

What have you been up to?

How do I get this iron mask off?

Have I gone blind?

Jeffy.

Where have you gone?

I'm going to wash that...

wash right out of your hair? No one.

Not old Mr.

Headlight himself.

That's no way to talk about Harvey.

And how are you getting on with
Geoffrey? Oh, please.

Geoffrey is a married man.

Oh, what? Anyone's better than that
lizard from the Black Lagoon.

Morning, all.

Speak of the devil.

Morning, Harvey. Bye, Harvey.

Now then, Jane.

Harvey! What?

What's that on your neck?

What? Where?

dog bit me. What bad dog?

The butcher's rottweiler. Now, never
mind that, Jane.

Wonderful news.

I've had an amazing letter.

You got that from the butcher's
rottweiler?

No, from the mayor.

The mayor bit you?

The mayor has written me, not bitten me,
Jane.

We are to be visited.

Who by?

By royalty.

A royal visit.

Just as that next Wednesday a royal
personage is going to be in the vicinity

may like to drop by.

Isn't it wonderful?

Oh, Jane, this could be it.

The services to the elderly.

Arise, the Harvey Nigel Baines.

Get the place cleaned up.

Plastic flowers in all the flower beds.
Keep the screamers and the incontinents

round the back and... God, what am I
going to do about Tom and Diana?

I've got it. Brilliant idea.

Now then, Jane.

Get Tom and Diana to come to my office
and don't tell them what it's about.

Jane Edwards, Your Highness.

Would you care to dine at Castle
Bayview?

We're having rabbit and custard.

Oh.

Oh, that's a damn thing.

Probably gangrene.

I'll have to chop it off.

My magazine. Oh.

to the ceiling. What do you want?

I don't want anything.

Harvey wants something.

A full head and body transplant.

He would like you and Tom to join him in
his offering. Well, I'm not getting up

again. Tell him to stick his head in a
bucket of pitch and breathe deeply.

He's got some wonderful news.

He's not leaving, is he? No.

Well, what's the wonderful news?

I'm not allowed to tell anybody.

Well, tell me.

I'm not allowed to tell, but you're
going to love it. It's wonderful news.

Lovely to see you. How totally wonderful
and marvellous.

Grovel, Harvey. I didn't bring my chuck
bucket.

You're such a joker. Now, go on, sit
yourselves down, make yourselves

comfortable. Now, do you want a cup of
coffee? Yes, thanks. Well, there we are.

Never mind.

How nice.

Obviously a serious con.

Yes, obviously. What do you want,
Harvey?

I want to thank you.

And I want to thank you for all you've
done round here.

I mean, sometimes I don't think you
realise how sincerely grateful I am to

Get on with it. We're getting old.

And to my appreciation, I have here two
tickets to a West End show, Les

Miserable.

I don't know Les personally, but I've
heard he's very good.

It's next Wednesday, and I thought you
could go up for the day.

It's all expenses on me, of course.

After you, Tom.

Right -o.

Look, Harvey.

What's that? What?

There on the desk.

Isn't it a hair of your head?

Where?

What's that mark on his neck?

He's been with a woman. It's a life
bite.

More like a total indifference bite. Do
you mind?

Now, tell us why you want us to get out
of here on Wednesday.

Because I like you.

Tom, pull out his hair. No, not the
hair. No, I'll tell you, I'll tell you.

truth? I promise.

Speak.

You see, there's going to be a council
inspection, and I know how much you like

to tell them I employ leopards in the
kitchen.

She's lying. Oh, give me that back.

There's going to be a royal visit.

Oh, Lord, enough.

Well, which royal is it? Big Ears, Snow
White, Chubby Chops, or Dockside Doris?

It doesn't say.

Security, I expect.

We'll take the ticket.

What? Well, yes, we don't want to hang
around waiting while some cloth -eared

royal maybe drops in.

Oh, yes, I do.

Hello, ma 'am. Sir Thomas Ballard at
your service. We are going to the

I've got it. You go to the theatre,
Diana, and Tom can be part of the

party.

He is fully continent, isn't he?

I always use hand cream to polish Volvo.

It's the lanolin, you see.

It protects and soothes away a car's
inner tensions and external abrasions.

That's nice, Geoffrey.

Sometimes I use it on myself.

It's one of the few pleasures I get in
life.

I ask Marion to do the bits I couldn't
reach.

But she bit me instead.

Oh, dear.

Harvey's been bitten.

By a resident?

A dog, apparently.

Right on the neck.

Well, that could have been quite
unpleasant.

Yes.

Once I would have been most concerned.

But now I'm not sure that I care that
much.

Gordon Bennett.

What's the matter?

Well, that is, your surf mentality.

A pack of inbred, unemployed hoorays
sends one of their number out into the

shires and half the population fall flat
on their faces in the mud, begging to

be trodden on.

I am not listening.

Well, I bet we don't get Brenda or
Stavros down here.

Who? The senior partners.

Oh, and her Greek sailor.

You are talking of my liege lord.

Your what?

My queen and her consort.

The head of the empire and the armed
forces for whom I would happily lay down

life. On the field of battle.

Well, go on, then.

What? Find a field of battle and lay
down your life.

See how many of them get off their polo
ponies for you.

You don't understand, do you?

Sometimes I wonder if you're really
British.

I am a citizen of the planet Earth.

I have travelled, I have seen the world,
and I have found that contrary to

popular British opinion, there are
many... Peoples and races who survive

well without our daffy duck class
system, with its dukes and duchesses and

high thises and thates and all the rest
of the cast of the bleeding mercado.

And it's turned you into a real
Bolshevik. If you are truly British, if

really love your country, then you are
genetically structured to accept and

revere our royal family.

You mean brainwashed?

I do not.

No, no, no, Tom, it's not the way... it
is anymore.

When I was young and banging around some
corner of a foreign field and heard

the crackle of the old world service
wafting on some clammy airwaves and

there was Alvar Liddell telling me what
the young Queen Elizabeth was up to.

A loyal tear sprang to even my bloodshot
eyes.

And I was waving my flag with the rest
of them.

But not anymore.

The magic's gone, thanks to the nasty
nose of our ragbag media.

We know too much about them.

It's hard to keep the respect and awe
going when the object of your adoration

sliding down a greasy pole and it's a
knockout.

You know your problem?

Well, I have many. Which did you have in
mind? You think too much, you reason

too much, and you have a mean little
soul.

Well, thank you, Tom.

Them out there, and when I say them, I
mean me also, we still love and care for

our royal family. I don't know why, but
we just do.

Everyone here is thrilled to have a
royal visit. So will you stop being such

misery and try to spoil it for all of
us?

Goodness. I have stuck an ice pick in
the national psyche.

Jolly good.

Come to change the dressing on your
foot. Oh, isn't it wonderful?

Wonderful? What, my suppurating foot?

No, your foot isn't wonderful.

I mean, it's very nice as feet goes.

Or at least it would be if it didn't
have that warp -boil -sith thingy on it.

Just get on with it, Jane.

No, I meant, isn't the royal visit
wonderful?

No. Oh, it is, Diana.

I had an aunt.

Who was bitten by a corgi once.

So?

Probably an omen.

An omen?

Yes. Dear, perhaps I blacked out for a
second and missed an important logical

step in your reasoning, or you've yet
again made a quantum leap across the

of normal thought processes, but what
exactly is prefixed by your aunt having

this unfortunate encounter with a short,
stumpy dog?

Well, they're the royal dogs, aren't
they? And all the boys are free at the

moment. Boys?

The princes.

Available. So?

So? So am I.

You poor, demented creature.

Do you honestly think that Charles and
Edward and what's his name, the chubby

one? Andrew.

And he's not chubby.

It's just his wife didn't feed him
properly.

Do you honestly think they're scouring
the countryside for wives?

Why not?

But why?

Because they haven't got any.

Not living.

So you think they're going to drop in
here, see you and whisk you off to

to meet Mummy?

Well... Well... No.

No, I don't suppose so.

It's just when you've been here a long
time and you've got nothing put by and

-one to call your own and your future
looks, well, like your past, well...

You know.

You've got to have a dream to make a
dream come true.

Thought of.

Silly, really.

No. No, it isn't silly, Jane.

You're quite right.

I mean, that's what they are. By
appointment.

Purveyors of hope to the toiling masses,
I suppose.

Oh, your foot's still a bit puffy.

I wish you'd let me take it to the
doctor.

it up again.

Oh, take it to the doctor, please.

I'll send it to him, all right.

Thank you.

So, what is the idiot Baines doing for
the royal visit?

Rubbing his nose in a cow pat to get him
practised? Oh, Diana, please.

Betty's red carpeting the drive.

Frankly, I don't know, and I don't care.

Oh, my goodness, there is a shift in the
wind.

Not off our little petal, are we?

I think he's been telling me little
fibby fiblets.

Do you think he got those teeth marks
from Bronwyn, the butcher's rottweiler?

Oh, my God.

I don't know, Jane, but if Tom came home
with similar indentations, I would not

be checking the dental records of every
rottweiler in Bournemouth.

You mean he got that not from a dog?

More like a woman, Jane.

And as it was Harvey she chewed upon, if
I were you, I'd look for a madwoman

who's lost her scentless smell and her
white stick.

Frankly, Diana, I don't give a damn.

I think he's disgusting.

I deserve better.

I deserve a prince of my own.

Oh, dear.

God, when you were giving out the
fortune cookies, why did you miss out on

Jane?

I got this off old Peter Williams.

Of course, he was a bit taller than me
when he died.

This is very good of you, Jenny.

That's all right, boss. I just love to
come up the big house and see all the

white folks in all their fine clothes.

Any time, Jenny.

I met the Duke of Edinburgh once. You
did?

He came to my school.

It was all a bit of a set -up, really. I
was put in a woodwork shop, supposedly

putting a screw into a sailing boat that
had actually been finished three years

before.

Then he comes to the Duke and he walks
up to me and looks at the boat and says,

what class is this?

And I say, it's woodwork class, sir.

And then he hit me round the head.

Some sort of protocol, I suppose.

Yes, well, I've laid on an extensive
tour and I've told Jane to keep the

residents strapped down and out of
sight.

I expect the security people will be
here first to see if any of us are

dangerous lunatics.

Geoffrey, Geoffrey, where are you?

Speaking of which... Here's Marion. Oh,
God.

Hello, everybody.

Jeffy Weffy.

What are you doing here?

I've come to take you home.

Marion, we've been through all this.
It's all over. I've left you for good.

But that was before.

Before what, dear?

Before last night.

Yes, it was about six weeks before last
night.

Yes, the last night was, well, you know.

Wow.

I don't quite follow you, dear. I think
we'll finish this off somewhere else,

Jenny. Oh, yes.

Hello, Marion. How nice to see you. I
haven't seen you for ages.

Eh?

Oh, Miss Sheffy, everyone's wearing that
new aftershave of yours.

I don't wear aftershave, dear. When
you're in yoghurts and cheese slices,

can't afford to confuse your nasal
capacities.

What's all this about last night?

Well, it wasn't last night special for
you.

I suppose it was, in a way.

During Mastermind, I scored 11 without
cheating by saying the answer just after

the contestant.

What did you do?

I made love.

To you.

Don't you remember?

No, I must have missed that bit.

We made wild, passionate love.

Or at least I did.

You seem more concerned with whether you
were losing any hair.

Not me, dear.

You asked me to dress up as Margaret
Thatcher?

No.

You did scream, and I bit you savagely
in the neck.

Didn't you?

You see, Christine is quite untuned.

I'm afraid your lover wasn't me, dear,
but then again, it rarely ever was.

God, who was it, then?

Do you want to borrow a phone book?

So you don't want to come home yet?

No, Marion. But, Jeffy, I need you. You
have a very eccentric way of showing it.

What if I said I was sorry about
everything?

I'd say so, my dear.

Oh, where's that flaming bus?

Oh, God, my bloody foot!

Miss Diana Trent?

Who's asking?

Would you like a lift back to Bayview?

You bet. Here, drop all the beads.

Your Majesty.

On behalf of the citizens of Bayview,
may I welcome you to our humble abode,

deep in the heart of your beautiful
countryside.

Then guide her in the door, remembering
not to touch her royal personage.

Don't want to be like that Australian
chappy, treating her like a glove

Just dump the bags on the table. Tom,
this is Mr Smith and Mr Brown, kind

to offer an old cripple a lift.

What ho? You must be Mr Barrow.

Sounds familiar.

Just a minute.

How did you know that?

Come to that, how did you know who I was
at the bus stop? We're security, madam.

Royal visit.

Oh, Ada.

What do you want with us?

This is an order form sent to an
American company called Arms

Did you put in an order for a high
-powered assault rifle? Yes, indeed I

In fact, I ordered a whole case of them,
plus hand grenades, three -inch

mortars, and a selection of assorted
ground -to -air missiles.

I won't ask why.

We've got mice.

What?

Ask my quartermaster, Major Ballard.

Sir? We are the BLF, the Bournemouth
Liberation Front.

As soon as the arms arrive, we will
sweep down from the New Forest and

liberate... The downtrodden masses
toiling in the labour camps of Swanage.

Are you taking a mickey? Well, what do
you think?

What is this, Kelly?

I'm sorry, madam, but it's our job.

You never know who might be at security
risk these days.

Fair enough.

Carry on.

Glad to see yourself on the ball.

Well, actually, not that on the ball.

Sorry? Well, you've missed the major
security threat round here, haven't

Tom? Eh, what?

Harvey Nidal.

Oh, well, yes.

H -N.

A rabid anti -monarchist, if ever there
was one. Probably quite harmless.

Oh, yes, I'm sure he'd do nothing to
embarrass or endanger their majesty.

Oh, no.

He hasn't gone funny for days.

I'm sure he'll be fine.

Who are you talking about, sir?

Oh, dear, no, I can't betray a dear
friend. Oh, absolutely not.

It'll be in the strictest confidence.

Well, in that case... Just let me get
this clear.

Harvey comes in with teeth marks about
his neck.

Yes. He tells Jane it was done by a
rottweiler.

Yes.

But you think the doggie in question
would have taken his entire head right

Yes.

Oh, my God.

How do I look?

Like a pool bearer. Don't be mean,
Diana. He looks lovely. I've got myself

frock, too. You?

You are abasing yourself before a
hierarchy was in the forefront of the

trade. Diana, stop trying to create
problems where none exist.

It's my hobby.

Jane, he's stopping for the party.

Oh, you've got to give me a hand. Oh,
you're useless.

I am not. I am a person and I'm a woman.

Who's been filling your head with all
this rubbish?

Now, pay attention, please.

Jane.

plan of bay view so as you can all see
where you have to be when the royal

arrives. I'll be in the Savoy eating you
into bankruptcy.

And I'll be in the pub.

Yes, well that's the troublemakers out
of the way.

Now then, the rest of you will be behind
these ropes at the top of the drive.

You will all be wearing your Sunday
best.

Make sure you have been before you go
out.

And wave those little union jacks which
I will be providing for you at a very

small fee.

And where will you be? Flat on your
back, begging them to walk all over you?

I will be with the welcoming party.

In fact, I will be the welcoming party.

What about me?

You can open the car door.

Now then, any questions?

Yes, I have a question.

Have you been sleeping with my wife?

Is that to do with the royal visit?

Answer the question.

Don't get sloppy with me, Geoffrey. Have
you slept with my wife? No, I have not.

Really? Really.

I didn't get a wink of sleep.

face to myself.

What's happening?

Jeffrey's trying to kill Harvey.

Oh, poor baby.

Poor baby.

Come on.

hurt you.

Oh!

Get away, Jane. This is man's business.

Geoffrey, stop it! Get away, Jane.

I'm a black belt. I can handle this.

He slept with my wife. Well, he just
didn't want to feel left out.

I don't understand women at all.

Nor me.

Nor me.

They're really weird.

It's only for a short time, sir.

Wouldn't want an incident, would we?

But she's lying!

I have never said anything about
Princess Margaret's drinking habit.

I've not made jokes about Clint's child
in a wind tunnel.

And I do not deliberately run over
corgis.

Just until they're gone, sir.

Raph Obolensky of Irkutsk.

Well, fancy me not recognising old Vlad,
baby.

He was of the family, though.

See, 23rd carton to Albert of Romania,
who was himself great -nephew to one of

Queen Victoria's kids.

Big family, I'm afraid.

How could they do this to me? It's so
rude.

I mean, if they were all hanging around
Buckingham Palace waiting for a member

of the House of Ballard to appear, how
would they feel?

If I sent him my 23rd cousin.

Well, he is royal.

Well, he's just some Johnny Russian
looking for a place to dump his mother.

Said we should be a republic.

Oh, God, no, no.

Got to have someone at the top.

Everybody has to have someone to look up
to.

If we didn't have our gang, we would be
like the Americans, worshipping movie

stars. Or like the French, worshipping
chefs and frog's legs.

Or like the Germans, worshipping
sausages and lager.

Or like the Italians.

worshipping pasta and sunshine and
Chianti and beautiful people

and the limpid waters of the
Mediterranean and la dolce vita.

Salute, Tom.

Salute, Diana.