All language subtitles for Only When I Laugh s03e04 Postmans Knock

I'm H -A -P -P -Y.

I'm H -A -P -P -Y.

I know I am, I'm sure I am.

I'm H -A -P -P -Y.

I know I am, I'm sure I am. He's H -A -P
-P -Y.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Oh, dear.

What's the matter now, Figgis? Oh, the
heartbreak in these letters. No wonder

they call it the agony column.

Poor, worried of Grimsby. She's got
problems.

Yes, well, I'd be worried if I lived in
Grimsby.

Don't worry, mate.

My husband's dolled himself up and
staying out all night. Listen to this.

He has taken to combing his hair across
the bald spot at the top of his head and

drenching himself in aftershave.

When I ask him where he's going, he says
he's joined the Freemasons and is sworn

to secrecy.

Do you think I have grounds for
suspicion?

Should I ask him to make a clean breast
of it?

He'll be the left one if he's a
Freemason.

Shut up, Norman. Let's see what Clare
Butterfield has to say.

Clare Butterfield? What does she know
about emotional problems?

She should stay at home and mind her
knitting, interfering old busybody.

On the contrary, Archie. Clare
Butterfield is the queen of the problem

blending wit and homely wisdom in a way
that the humble housewife can

understand.

Yes, she'll get to the heart of the
matter.

Let's see.

Dear Worried.

There could be a simple explanation.

Of course there's a simple explanation.
He's having it away.

Do you mind?

Do not confront him with your
suspicions. You may drop a gentle hint

not well, but first you must ask
yourself, why do you have these fears?

she's getting to grips with it, you see.
What she's trying to say is, look to

yourself, worried of Grimsby. Are you
neglecting your appearance?

She'll be advised to get out the old
black shift on nighty next, you'll see.

Yes, yes, I thought so. You see, she's
got to put romance back in her marriage.

He's probably reached the male
menopause.

You should know something about that,
Archie. What do you think?

Vigis, I'm not interested in these petty
marital problems. You seem to have

forgotten that I'm a bachelor.

Yes, but is that through choice, Archie?
Of course it was through choice. I

could have had any woman that I wanted.

I chose to remain single, and when I
look at the way that certain married men

conduct themselves, I'm glad I did.

Well, don't look at me like that. I know
I'm not perfect.

Claire Butterfield has a phrase for it.

I've reached my dangerous years.

You have when your wife catches you.

Remember when she found you with that
woman from Gateshead? You were certainly

in danger that day. Yes, well, she did
lose her temper a bit, but she didn't

realise that was my cry for help.

Yes, we all heard you crying for help.
All right, at least it made her more

understanding. We needed that moment of
drama.

It's what Claire Butterfield calls a
catharsis.

Lisa's put some life back into our
marriage.

Edie writes quite often these days. So
does the woman from Gateshead.

You don't understand.

Claire Butterfield would have
understood. She knows the ways of the

You should write to her, Archie. She's
very good on loneliness.

I'm not lonely, Figgis. And if I were, I
wouldn't write to Claire Butterfield.

I haven't got any problems. Well, of
course you haven't, no more than any man

your age. I suppose it's a question of
declining powers, that's all.

Clare Butterfield's very good on
declining powers. Will you shut up about

Butterfield? And there's nothing wrong
with my powers, I can assure you. What

wrong with you, Archie? What?

Well, you don't seem to have much
success with women, do you?

What was that? Did I hear correctly?

Well, I'm worried about you.

Oh, shy and troubled of Watford is
worried about me, is he?

Trying to tell me, Archie Glover, that I
don't have success with women?

Ridiculous. I am extremely popular with
women. Then why don't you get any

visitors? Because I prefer them to
write.

Then why don't you get any letters? Of
course I get letters.

Hello, everyone. Here is the post.

Anything for me, Gupta?

Afraid not, my dear Glover. Nothing
again for you today.

Very sorry.

But never mind. One day I'll bring you a
letter, even if I have to write it

myself. What good's that? He can't read
Urdu. That's all right, Gupta. You've

probably been held up somewhere.

Two for you today, I guess. Oh, yes, one
for me and... Yes, well, I think I'll

keep that one for later.

Well, I think it's disgusting.

A man should be able to manage with one
woman at a time. That's why you're

wrong, Archie. Man is by his very nature
polygamous. You ask up to here.

Don't ask me. I can't even get one.

No, but most religions allow for more
than one wife. One for the cooking, one

for the ironing, and one for the other.
Well, I don't agree with it. Well, of

course you don't. Archie would settle
for one and do the ironing himself.

Well, I'm different, I can't help it if
women are attracted to me. Excuse me,

Figgis, I've had enough of your boasting
for one day.

Ah, Glover, I'd like to be well with
you.

Now look what you've done.

Archie! What's the matter with Glover
these days?

Oh, you've noticed too, have you,
Doctor? He seems to have lost the will

better. He's certainly not responding to
treatment. He won't.

He's suffering from a sickness no drugs
can cure.

As old as time itself.

No, we've tested him for that, figures.

I mean, he's not getting his share.

His share of what, figures? His share of
female companionship. Archie needs the

admiration of a woman like a flower
needs the sun and the rain.

I see.

I mean, he's wilting, figures.

Very aptly put, Doctor.

I don't understand figures. As long as
they be stars of female company, they're

the nurses.

Oh, well, that's not the same thing.

Familiarity breeds contempt.

Especially when you've seen somebody
before they've taken their curlers out

the morning.

Good heavens, figures, the nurses don't
start the day like that. No, but Archie

does.

He's certainly lost all mystique as far
as they're concerned.

What he needs is a little romance in his
life.

That's the trouble with the National
Health Service.

There's no romance.

Ooh. I don't think we want anything
there throughout here, figures.

Never know where it might lead.

Oh, come on, Doctor, there's no arm in
it. Even in prison, you're allowed to

touch hands through the bars.

Well, I suppose I could ask one of the
ladies from the League of Friends to

visit him. Oh, not one of them old
boilers.

Figgy, there are decent, hard -working
women who give all their valuable time

this hospital without remuneration.

So just you show some respect for the
old boilers.

And I hope Glover will do the same. You
know, I don't like his attitude to

women. Neither do they. That's the
trouble.

I was thinking of writing to Clare
Butterfield about it. What?

Nothing of bringing Clare Butterfield
in. What would Glover say? He won't

I was thinking of using a nom de plume.
What about Lonely of Ward 3?

Lonely of Ward 3, figures. If Glover
found out, you'd end up as mutilated of

intensive care.

Now, give me that paper before you get
yourself in trouble.

I was only trying to help. What right
have you got to interfere, figures? As

as I can gather, your own private life
is not exactly straightforward.

It's a ghastly mess.

So just you stay out of this and leave
it to the experts.

You're quite right, Doctor.

I'll leave it to the experts.

Dear Claire Buckley.

Norman, have you seen Glover?

He's in the day room, writing a few
letters. Trouble is, no -one ever

them. It's very sad.

Yes, he must be desperate. He's even
started a correspondence with the double

-glazing people.

I wondered if this would help.

I saw it in the small ads.

Lonely heart? No, you'd never get Archie
to admit he's a lonely heart. Why not?

He seems very sensible. All he has to do
is advertise, giving his likes and

dislikes. See here.

Unattached man, rather hairy, wants a
woman to share expenses and a trip to

Africa. Who's going to answer that,
rather hairy? It could be a gorilla.

All right, what about bottomed man,
seeks a suitable lady, also likes

egg and fishnet type.

Oh, you wouldn't get Archie involved in
anything like this. He's too proud. I

mean, look, Goopty. Sugar Daddy needs
enormously plump Jelly Baby. Who put a

thing like that in?

I did.

Oh. Well, you won't get Archie to do it.
You never know until you ask him,

Norman.

I won't. if this might interest you,
Archie.

A quiet word about hair transplants. Are
you trying to be funny, Norman?

No, no. Here, in the personal section.

Lonely hearts? My God!

Do you think I descend that far? I've
got some pride left.

I mean, look at the sort of people who
advertise.

Philosophy graduate 30, fun -loving and
liberated sun worshipper, seeks

companionship. I bet he does a little
pervert.

What sort of woman's going to reply to
that sort of thing? Marriage, not out of

the question, but would prefer a free
-wheeling relationship with an

male of the same age.

Good Lord, it's from a woman.

What about her, Archie? She sounds
fairly lively.

Certainly not, Norman. When the day
comes that Archie Glover has to pay for

or write for it, he'll retire to his bed
with a glass of hemlock. Now, just let

me get on with my correspondence.

Who is it this time, Archie? Double
glazing or loft insulation?

Oh, get out and leave me alone!

Liberated sun worshipper.

They've printed it. It's in the paper.
What is? Artie's letter. I didn't know

Artie'd written a letter. No, well, he
didn't actually write it. I did, on his

behalf. I wrote to Claire Butterfield
and she's replied in print.

What? Listen, dear Lonely.

No? I was moved by your sad letter and
sympathised with your lonely plight in a

hospital ward. But honestly, there was
an attitude in your letter that made me

want to give you a good shaking. I knew
she'd want to give him a good shaking.

Do I detect a little vanity in your make
-up? Oh, does she?

Try and achieve a little humility in
your relationships.

Don't expect women to fall under your
spell instantly.

There must be mutual respect and
understanding.

Oh, she's very good, isn't she?

It's all there in a nutshell.

Let me see.

The feeling that you are bestowing
favours on the women you meet is bound

affront them. The experiences you relate
are sad, but I do feel that some of the

thought lies with you. Love is like a
growing plant.

Nurture it, gently.

In the meantime, I'm sending you the
address of a respectable agency where

you'll be able to contact a woman of
similar background and interests.

Not bad, is it?

Not bad?

He'll murder you, Fig. No, he won't.
That's why I insisted on a non -diploma

publication.

It keeps it confidential.

Confidential. You have just discussed
his personal affairs in front of three

million readers. He'll murder you, Fig.

Will you thank me for it later? This
advice is worth its weight in gold.

And what are you going to do with it?

Well, I thought I'd just leave it for
him to see.

Let him read it for himself.

Let it sink in gently.

After all, it's in his own best
interests.

He'll murder you, Fig. I wish you'd stop
saying that.

Just thought I'd bring the post round
this morning. One for you, Figgis.

One for you, Norman.

Ah, and one for me.

Hmm, scented backwards slave.

Obviously from a woman. Well done,
Archie.

Yes, the post seems to be getting
through all right now.

I think I'll just read this at the
table. I hate people looking over my

shoulder.

Yes, Figgith? I just wondered if you'd
seen the old agony column this morning,

Archie. There's a very interesting
letter. Figgith, I have a letter of my

read. Why should I be interested in
these poor lost souls?

It's about us, Little.

What? Well... Dear Clare Butterfield, I
am a patient in hospital and

feeling very alone.

I long for female companionship but
always seem to fail dismally with the

opposite sex.

I am not unattractive. In fact, many
would say I am good -looking. I have

considerable charm and an air of
breeding and refinement that most people

give their right arms for.

Other patients in the ward, quite
ordinary types, seem to attract all the

attention.

Have standards changed so much? Can you
be too witty and sophisticated?

Please help me. I have so much to offer.

And I cannot endure many more hours of
this agonising loneliness.

Aren't you going to read the reply then,
Archie? Certainly not, Fig. It sounds

like a bit of a crank to me.

Too full of arrogance and self -pity. If
he were on this ward, I'd give him a

good shaking.

You're looking great, Archie. The years
have just fallen away.

Yes, to come up smiling after so many
years of suffering takes a special

of courage.

I think she'll be impressed.

Who is it, Archie? Who's coming?

Well, Norman, I've got a confession to
make. Promise me you won't tell figures.

No, of course not.

It's the liberated sun worshipper.

The one who advertised.

I wrote and she replied.

She's a swinger, Norman.

Liberated, emancipated, fun -loving.

Do you think I ought to draw the
curtains round a little more?

Now, Archie, you mustn't get
overexcited. Just take things easy.

No, don't worry, Norman. I shall be very
laid back. After all, she is a student

of philosophy.

Do you know anything about
existentialism?

Well, it's the anti -intellectualist
philosophy of life, holding that man is

free and responsible based on the
assumption that reality as an existence

only be lived and never be the object of
thought.

That's very good, Archie.

Well, I have been doing a little
reading. I want to make the right

You know what these intellectual birds
are like? Pot -smoking, no hang -ups.

They're acting like knives!

Do you think you could go and keep a
lookout for her, Norman? She'll probably

in a long dress, beads and open -toed
sandals. Certainly, Archie.

What's her name? Well, she didn't give
her name. She just signed herself sexy.

Well, I'll go and look out for her. Now,
you just try and relax.

Oh, don't worry, Norman. That's one
thing about philosophy. It does teach

relax.

Now...

Ah, Mrs. Roper -Jones.

You wanted to see me, Mr. Thorpe. Yes,
do sit, darling.

I wonder if you'd have a word with a
patient of mine. His name's Glover,

surgical. Poor devil's just lost all the
will to go on. Oh, of course, I'll see

what I can do. I usually find I can
liven them up a little.

I'm sure you do, Mrs. Roper -Jones.

And I don't think you'll find him very
good company at the moment. He's very

low. Oh, so is that poor man in
geriatrics.

He'd lost all interest in life until I
persuaded him to build some halls out of

matchsticks. Now he's a changed man.

Yes, I've got some rather bad news
there.

It burned down last night.

Oh, dear.

I implored him not to use live matches.

I trust it didn't burn down with him
before.

No, just his eyebrows.

Still, it's the first time we've seen
him out of bed for some time.

At least it did create an interest.

Has Mr Glover any interest?

I think he's got one or two.

I believe he's very interested in
nature.

Well, that's something.

Yes, but I think his main problem at the
moment is his grim, crippling

loneliness. It's reduced him to a mere
shell. So I thought, perhaps, that the

sound of a woman's voice might just turn
this crusty old bachelor into a human

being again.

Well, I'll certainly do my best.

I do find that the men miss the feminine
touch, that cool hand on the brow.

Don't touch him, Mrs. Remington.

He's feeling rather depraved.

Deprived.

What do you mean?

I'm afraid so.

So if you could just go to a friendly
chat, a little verbal flirtation,

more. You leave it to me, Mr. Thorpe.
Oh, and he's extremely proud, so please

don't let him know that I sent you. Of
course.

I'll be discreet.

The question is, will he?

Oh, excuse me.

Could you tell me where I could find
Mick the Glover?

Uh, yes.

He's in here in the end bed.

Thank you.

Mr Glover.

Hello, sexy.

Come and sit down.

Now, Mr Glover. He's called me Archie.

Archie? And what's your name? I can't
call you sexy all the time.

It's Helen. Helen, I like it. It's got
the right vibes.

Sit down and let's communicate.

Would you like a cigarette?

Only... Ordinary ones, I'm afraid. They
tend to keep an eye on you in here. Not

that I couldn't do with something
stronger.

This place is really bugging me.

So I understand.

Have you tried raffia?

Raffia?

Is that something new?

Take your mind off things.

Oh, don't worry. When I want to do that,
I always meditate.

After all, what is it all about? Are you
here? Am I here? Is anybody here?

Or are we all just figments of our
imagination?

Well, I'm certainly here. I came on the
47 bus.

You're cool. I like that.

As you can see, I'm very laid back.

Oh, can I plump your pillows up for you?
Oh, thank you.

Oh, stay close, Helen.

I must have more physical contact.

Oh, your perfume is blowing my mind. Oh,
it's only Devon Violet.

I'm sure we can establish a freewheeling
relationship, but how does marriage

grab you? Would you like to give it a
whirl? Well, actually, I'm married

already. Oh, Helen, you're a sly one.
Didn't work out, eh?

Never mind.

Look, I know you're liberated and
emancipated, but do you think you could

the curtains round a little more?

Well, if you insist.

Yes? I'm looking for Mr Glover. Oh, I'm
afraid he's got someone with him at the

moment. Oh, I'll wait.

Perhaps you could tell him that Claire
Butterfield is here to see him.

Claire Butterfield? Good Lord. Just wait
here, will you? I'll, um... I'll fetch

someone, good Lord.

Oh!

Oh! I've never been so insulted in my
life.

No wonder you don't get any visitors.

Really.

Yes? I really could give you a good
shaking.

I beg your pardon?

This attitude is not going to get you
anywhere.

Isn't it?

Of course, I could tell there was
something radically wrong from your

My letter?

So it was you.

Oh, sit down. I'm sorry about that. That
was a misunderstanding.

It certainly was. I was very annoyed.

You mean you were jealous?

Mr. Glover, you must get over this
attitude that you're irresistible.

call me Archie.

Very well, Archie.

You and I are going to have a serious
talk. Oh, good.

Just draw the curtains round, would you?

Hello.

I'm looking for Mr Glover. He wrote me a
letter. No.

No, no.

He didn't write that letter. I did.

What? I suppose it was a cry for help,
really. Only when I'd finished, I was

shy to put my own name, so I put his.

You mustn't be shy. Not with me.

No, of course not.

I never thought you'd be like this.

Not from the way you write. I thought
you'd be more, well, down -to -earth and

practical. Oh, no, that's not me at all.

I'm quite unconventional, really. After
all, that's why I'm here, on a mad

impulse. I know how you feel. I'm very
impulsive myself.

I suppose you could say I'm very
emancipated.

Emancipated? You mean you're old enough
to vote?

I mean I'm very liberated.

Yes, well, I'm very liberated, too, only
you don't get much chance around here.

Yes, I thought so.

I love flying in the face of convention,
don't you? Oh, absolutely, I do it all

the time.

I knew we'd get on.

Do you believe in a totally free
relationship?

Well, I don't mind going halves.

On the other hand, why pay when you can
get it for nothing?

Fascinating.

Isn't there anywhere where we can talk?

I'm sure we could find somewhere a
little more intimate.

Perhaps an empty broom cupboard.

What do you think of Kierkegaard?

Who does he play for?

Christ!

What's the matter, Pete? My God, Norman.

Claire Butterfield's a bit of a goer.

I've been reading her column for years,
all about the sanctity of marriage and

forbidden fruit. I had no idea what she
was really like.

She couldn't keep her hands off me. They
had to separate us in the day room.

Where is she now? The porter asked her
to leave. Said she was upset in the

geriatrics.

I don't understand, Fitz. Neither do I.

I've been invited to a sex orgy in
Penge.

No, I mean, if you've been with Claire
Butterfield, who's that in there?

What?

You see, Archie, you really must get
over this idea that women are solely sex

orgies. That they're there entirely for
your pleasure. You must allow time for a

relationship to grow.

Oh, to mature, to ripen.

Do you understand that? Yes, you've been
telling me for the last hour.

The bell's going to go in a minute.
Well, there's so much you can't put in a

letter. That's why I wanted to talk to
you.

Are you ready for that kind of
relationship? Ready? I've been ready for

hour. Oh, there's the bell. Look, I
think our relationship's ripened enough

now, don't you?

Oh, come along, sexy. Give me a quick
kiss. Come on, let it all hang out.

What day are you getting it?

Nothing, Dr. Germaine.

Now I know what's the matter with you.

Very rarely do I ever visit somebody
who's written in, but just for once I

wanted to reach across the printed page
and see for myself the kind of people

who write these letters. And what do I
find?

A sex maniac.

Hadn't you understood anything? Didn't
you even read my...

Butterfield? I don't understand.

Claire Butter... Finish! Oh,

dear.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

I see Claire Butterfield's got her fair
share of heartbreak again today, Archie.

I don't want to hear about Claire
Butterfield, Norman, ever again.

That's the trouble with him, Norman.
Just won't listen to advice.

Shut up, Figgis.

Wait a minute.

Hey, Fig, look at this. What?

Just here. The one from Worried
Housewife. This one?

I am married to a long -distance lorry
driver.

Recently, he's had a long spell in
hospital, during which time I found out

he's having an affair with another
woman.

Though he has promised to give her up, I
do not believe it.

I have decided to leave him.

What I want to know is...

If I withdraw all the money from my
joint account and sell the house, which

in both our names, will I be within the
law?

My God, I've got to get my telephone!

I'm striking!

Would you believe it? Fancy Mrs Figgis
writing a letter like that!

I'm sure I am.