Original subtitles

Here I go again.

I hear the trumpet blow again.

Oh, what a blow again.

Taking a chance on love.

We ride light again.

About to take that ride again.

Well,

that sorts out WPC Potts' wedding present.

Now, item 14, the hookers of Ledwith Grove.

All right, all right, all right. Now, it appears, it appears that since the

recent creative marketing seminar in the Ledwith Hotel, our good ladies...

have come into contact with a number of high -pressure selling techniques.

All right, all right.

Local residents have complained of leaflet drops, a midweek two for the

one offer, and a money -back guarantee if not completely satisfied.

All right, all right. Now, since 60 vicars are attending the diocesan synod

at Ledwith House at the moment, we are bringing the tart sweet forward.

Tonight's the night.

The Diocesan Synod. Not to be confused with item 15, Jack the Vicar. New to our

patch. The word is that he poses as a member of the clergy, addresses the WI

similar, and reduces the old dears to sobs with pictures of orphan kiddies.

And, while they're out of the room, pledging large sums of money to Oxfam,

robs their handbag.

Unambitious, but...

A final item.

The Chance wedding.

Now, I think most of you know Tom Chance.

Well, as you know, as you know, he's getting married tomorrow.

And I'd like him to have an uneventful trip to the altar.

So if you find him standing over the inert body of a blood -stained woman,

wheeled in a meat cleaver, remember, she is a migraine sufferer who's fainted.

Burnt in the ketchup bottle in her shopping bag while Steve was passing on

way to the knife sharpeners.

Understood? All right, move it out, then.

All right, sir.

And, uh, remember, let's be careful out there.

Nervous, Tom?

Nervous? Well, you know, it's quite a scare getting married.

Ah, hmm.

Are you nervous?

Raw meat.

Ah.

Stomach churning, teeth on edge.

Break linings of nervous system worn down to bare metal.

Trick is, keep busy.

Very good of you to do that, Tom.

Where on earth did you learn to do all this, anyway?

No idea.

Out swimming.

In 1965,

over -ambitious Heron dropped 28 -pound salmon pike on head.

Temporary amnesia. Came round three months later doing leatherwork

apprenticeship in remand home.

Well, I must say, it looks marvellous. Yes, it's a bit of a rushed job,

unfortunately. Normally prefer to hand cure, hide, match grains, chase borders.

Well... Perhaps you could chase my skirt when I get back from the party.

Doubtful, Alison.

Don't have right equipment.

I'll fill this up for you, Tom. Yeah, thanks.

Tom? Yes?

Was there ever a specific moment when, you know, you realised that, you know, I

was the one?

Ah, yes. Yes, actually, was one moment, sort of turning point, really.

That time in County Hospital.

Groin injury.

Oh, and that terrible doctor flung back the sheet and said, is this the one for

the sex change operation?

Sheer speed with which you shoved kidney bowl down front of pyjama bottoms.

Oh, it's what any woman would have done, Tom.

Actually, that was the time when I realised that you, for me, were...

All finished.

It's good.

Oh, lovely!

I've got it on.

Yes, it's good. Where exactly is the party?

Oh, Mr. Wynne said we could hold it in the library.

Ah, a civilized place for celebration.

Downing occasional lager in shadow of masters.

Ta -da!

It might be better if... Oh, no, it's in the restricted book section, Tom.

Mr Windham keeps his own little blow -heater down there. No -one's allowed in

normally, so really it's quite an honour.

I've personally always been rather fond of little Viola dress.

Stuart Tartan.

White collar.

Oh, no, it's a decadence party, Tom.

Everyone has to go in some example of declining moral values.

Barbara's going as Germaine Greer.

Angela's going as a concubine of the Emperor Nero.

All this wingence idea, presumably?

Well, no, it's more mine, really.

Ah. You're going to be all right, Tom. There isn't a statue, is there? No, no,

no. Decided to avoid more obvious disaster areas. Probably just spent a

evening at home. Got candle -making kit somewhere, I think.

Oh, Tom, if you mean that box at the back of the wardrobe, I'm afraid Daddy

threw it out.

He was a bit worried what you did with those rubber mould things.

Well, probably just spend time putting Argentine section of cheese label

collection in order.

You're going to be all right, then?

Yes, yes, yes. Give you a lift to party?

No, no, it's no need.

Oh, no, no, no, no. Going to off -licence to make small contribution to

celebrations. That'd be very nice, Tom.

What are you doing tonight, then, handsome?

Just told you, Alison.

Quiet evening at home.

Anyway, Mummy and Daddy should be back soon.

What on earth have they got to?

The strain of endless walking.

The cold of hunger is beginning to weaken my family's resolve.

We have been in this hellish place for it seems an eternity.

We were either taking a photograph for the family album, when a criminal gang,

taking us to be associates of the photographer, or pornographer, as it

out, threatened us with acts of unspeakable violence and forced us to

of the basement studio and into the sewers.

Now look, as I see it, we have two chances.

Plan A and Plan B.

Plan A is to keep trying for the opening in the sewers, the manhole covers,

until we find one that Janet can move.

And Plan B, incidentally my own personal preference, is to follow the general

flow of the, as it were, in the knowledge that we're bound eventually to

either the sea or a major sewage farm.

Derek! Yes, what is it, Janet?

Why don't we ask that man away?

Suggestion, Janet. Yes, let's call that Plan C, shall we?

Um... I must say, my instinct is to stick with Plan A or B.

Good evening, sir. Can I help you? I hope so.

We're down here for the Synod, and your rector, Mr Dodge, kindly invited us to

dinner. I thought perhaps a decent clarity... Right!

I reckon if we all chip in a pie.

Yes, I was just inquiring about St. Clary.

Clary?

Something wrong?

Well, it is a bit bourgeois, isn't it?

Oh, I'm bourgeois.

Dodge is bourgeois.

Are we organised?

Oh, yes, apart from the fact that Cartwright here seems to think he's on

his rugby club outings. Oh, look, Hobgan.

Just because you lost the vote on women's clergy... The way you and your

ostriches have managed to keep the church firmly in the 19th century

has nothing whatever to do with the fact that we didn't all acquire our drinking

habits in a corporal's mess.

Clarence, please.

Over the far end, sir, on the right.

Well, I think it was very public -spirited of you, Tom.

No, no, not at all.

Primary school opposite.

Light a...

Dead cat on pavement. Very upsetting to small children. Yeah. It was just

unfortunate that old lady came out as you were shoving it down the drain in a

caravan.

Yes.

What say we put the boat out?

Well, this will certainly get the girls going, Tom.

How much?

Out.

Pardon? Outside. Go on. I'm not serving him.

Quite right. Serving me.

No, no, no. Not paid to think, Alison. Paid to serve customers.

Now, you know the rules as well as I do.

Out.

Gentlemen. Oh, will you take these?

I suppose you, Hovland, would prefer this, wouldn't you?

I think the lady's request to be served was a perfectly reasonable one. Oh,

thank you. It's just that you think... Now, you're quite capable of handling

affairs.

Taking lady to party at library.

I don't care where you do it.

I'm not serving her. Right, right.

Champagne for her? I suppose you'd like to take her out and stone her, would

you? Oh, let's just forget it, Tom.

Been buying lager here for the last six years, seriously thinking of taking

custom elsewhere.

That's fine by me.

She's on the game, Hoppy. And does it ever occur to you to ask what kind of

society drove her there in the first place? I hope you understand, not just

custom likely to lose, the secretary of Sanborn Cricket Club, Summer's bar

contract, hanging in balance.

I'm sorry, but the Residence Association... I'll put it back for you.

of line, Cartwright. This is 1985.

You wouldn't recognise 1985 if it jumped up your castle.

Oh!

Oh, I'm so sorry.

No, not your fault, Alison. Why, don't you just go and choose another?

You're not going anywhere till you pay for that. It sounds at last.

I've been trying to pay for it since I came in here.

Right.

I'd like to settle for two bottles of champagne. You heard the man. He doesn't

serve hot.

Warning. Look out, he's got a broken bottle.

I was dealing with your sort at the Lambeth Youth Club while you were in

Nappies.

It's been getting out of control in there, Alison.

Phone box up the road.

Better call Walter Gough. Oh, Tom, couldn't I watch?

In your condition, Alison?

Certainly not.

Better go in and sort it out.

Fine, now.

Small suggestion.

All take deep breaths.

Count to ten. Right.

One.

Right. That does it.

married today.

Oh, they've got problems of their own up there, Brenda.

Harper's Station's laid out with this tummy bug that's going round.

Why don't they just file charges and let her out?

I'm supposed to be doing school running an hour.

There's only two of them left up there. That poor man operating the front desk

is doing it from an extension phone in the lavatory.

All the able -bodied men are down at the bank robbery in the high street.

Not the Nat West.

No, no, but...

Oh, that's all right, then.

Hopefully, they got in from the sewers with explosives. Honestly, if you saw

them up there, you'd feel sorry for them. Not if I was getting married in

hours' time.

Yeah, well, not too sure about the wedding.

What do you mean?

We've got problems of our own.

There's nothing we could help with, is there?

Yeah. After all your advice last night on reading schemes for under five, at

least we can do.

They lost our best man yesterday.

He's in Las Vegas with my bridesmaid.

And then the honeymoon was booked for the wrong date.

None of my wedding invitations were delivered.

Not that that matters much anyway, because the restaurant for the

lost its kitchens.

It was next door to the bank that blew up.

I think you have lost the thread.

Oh, yes, you've dropped one, haven't you?

to be giving me away. He's gone missing.

So's my mother. And they've got my wedding dress and the cake.

My fiancé's locked up in a cell three doors down and I've just heard that the

vicar's in hospital after a car accident.

Look, don't forget to decrease at the end of the row.

No, right.

Well, I've got a wedding dress you can borrow. Don't use it at the weekend.

You just have to start the summer.

Mr. Chan. Yes, right.

Tom, did you get the bishop?

Yes, yes, I told him. As agreed that you were visiting depressed circus manager

in jail.

And he fell for it?

Absolutely. He said, could you meet him for sherry this evening?

Oh, sherry with the bishop.

Tom, if there's ever anything we can do in return.

Matter of fact, actually, there is, yes.

Um, rang Lawrence Dodge up there.

Dodge? We're supposed to be having dinner with him. Uh, last night.

Actually, yes.

Waited three hours for you, sank best part of bottle of Glen Fiddick, went out

to Mount Search Party, drove car straight into statue of Disraeli.

Is he all right?

Broken leg.

Lawrence Dodge not too well either.

Get him in hospital.

Won't be marrying us today.

Say no more, Tom.

I'd be delighted to oblige if it would help.

Really, can't drive? Yes.

Appreciate that. And you won't get any of that serious three -hellow -gods

stuff. It'll be 1662 all the way. Yes, and totally incomprehensible to most of

the congregation.

Listen, Tom, if you want a proper marriage service, I'll do it. Now, keep

this, Hoppin. It was my idea.

That's enough of that!

Now, you lot upstairs.

Collect your ties, shoelaces and personal belongings and think yourselves

we're not pressing charges.

And ooze is this.

I've got my eyes on you, sunshine. Remember that.

Alison, is everything all right?

Not entirely, no.

Good, good.

I don't know how to begin to apologise to you both. I only heard about it half

an hour ago when I got back from this bank job.

I was stuck in a couple of pills on your wedding day. Oh, it's hardly your

fault, Sergeant Coff.

Actually, everyone's been very kind, but it's quite obvious there isn't going to

be any wedding today.

Sure, it's that bad.

Tom, we've got no best man, no bridegroom, no vicar, no parents, no

guests, no reception.

You know, my uncle Eric used to say that a problem is like a sherbet dab.

It's only there to be licked. But as I did, you've got thick sherbet dabs.

So, let's start with a vicar.

Now, how about if I go upstairs...

And first eighth out gets the job, right?

I vote.

Yes, Doreen.

I vote we pool our resources of food and share it out equally.

Right.

I haven't got anything.

Neither have I.

lot, Betty.

I didn't make this cake for it to be eaten down a sewer.

Betty!

I gave my chewing gum.

That's Russia. There's three of us.

There's no course for unpleasantness. Let's be civilised about this.

She'll have to sleep sooner or later.

What a beautiful day.

Long last, eh?

Good feeling.

Sorry about the delay.

Yes, everybody's out in the pavement, ready to wave you off. We've just had a

bit of trouble with the car.

Ah, yes, accelerator flat on floor, smart kick to gearbox casing.

Oh, no, some idiot got it mixed up with a suspected heroin trafficker out in the

compound. But don't worry, I've got a dozen lathes putting it back together.

I think I didn't go.

No, it did go all right, didn't it?

It went off like boss stop 20. Never seen anything like it. How your wife

managed to do banana sandwiches for over 300 people, I'll never know.

Getting 300 guests at last minute.

Minor miracle in itself.

Just three hours.

Incredible. Well, I just put it around that anybody who wanted to say goodbye

you... Oh, they did, didn't they? The ambulance men.

Very distressed woman at the front desk.

Last night, some maniac tied her cat in a carrier bag and drowned it down a

drain.

That's unbelievable, isn't it?

Tom,

I think we'd better say goodbye to Mummy and Daddy.

Yeah, yeah.

Didn't Wingence couldn't make it to reception?

Oh, they did say.

His mother always comes to lunch on Saturdays. Well,

Mummy, Daddy, we're off. Yeah, right.

Fancy a drink, Daddy?

Doreen might appreciate a glass of water for her migraine tablet.

Water.

All our lives we've waited for this day, Alison.

We never thought it would be like this.

No, it was marvellous, wasn't it?

All thanks to Sergeant Garth.

Well, are you coming outside to wave goodbye?

No, I think not, Alison. Your mother's picked up some sort of tummy bug and we

don't want to stray too far from the toilet.

Water.

Of course, dear.

Bye -bye, Mummy.

Daddy. Right, we're all ready for you. The car's running.

Yeah. Oh, and I must warn you, they've planned a real send -off for you. It's

not paper bags full of rice they've got out there. It's underweights, tacks and

shovels. Oh, wonderful. Just got to get bags, Walter. Of course.

Not now, will you? Look, we just cleaned them off.

I think you ought to look at this, guys. It just came through on the fax

machine. The bloke that married them.

I don't believe it.

Ah, Walter.

Oh, really, then.

Anything wrong?

No, no, just business, Tom. Now, you have a lovely honeymoon.

You deserve it.

Well, it's simply been marvellous. Thank you very much. Pleasure.

Thank you, Sergeant Goff, for everything.

Bye -bye. Bye -bye.

Well, I suppose it was inevitable really.

Thank you.