Original subtitles

What will I do?

Aren't you Sharon?

Yes, Garth?

Me nuts have run out.

Oh, have they?

Yeah.

Well, run out after them, you lazy little toe -rag.

Here you are, Garth. I've got you some little snacks.

They're your favourite.

Thanks, Mum.

Put them down on there.

Oh, no, Mum.

I can't eat them.

We're not without a drink to wash them down with.

Ta -da.

Thanks, Mum.

I don't believe you, Trace Stubbs.

Were you born a total muggins or did you go to evening classes to polish up on

it? What are you on about?

That son of yours.

He ain't got out of that chair since he broke up from college.

He's been stuck on that settee so long he's got the Parker Noel logo stamped on

his backside.

And you're still running round after him. I'm allowed to. I'm his mum.

The boy should get out of the house, Trace. Have a bit of a social life.

When we were this age, we were so... was that somewhere?

Pictures? Bowling?

Dancing? Oh, that's true enough.

Remember the Tottenham Royal and the Lyceum at the Strand?

Oh, those were the days, eh?

You could go out for the night with a quid in your pocket, have a bop, baby

and a bun cup.

Still have enough left over for a bag of chips on the way home.

I can't remember my nights out being like that.

No, never did like baby sham, did you?

All right, I'll have a word with Garfield.

About time.

Come on, then.

Not now.

Why not?

He's watching telly. I might disturb him.

Uh -oh. Trollope alert.

Well?

Blimey, it's Madam Whiplash.

Would you reckon she won't show?

Dunno. Maybe she dropped one of her nipple clamps down our car's road.

Oh, spare me your pissy working -class wit. Have you no idea where I picked up

this chic little ensemble?

Frank Boff's bedroom.

No, Tracy, this is designer wear.

Leather is very fashionable again this year.

Yeah, a lot of old cows won't be seen in anything else.

Well, Sharon, rest assured, should you ever wish to dress your ample figure in

leather, somewhere, someplace, there's a herd with your name on it.

Well, actually, I bought this in a desperate attempt to cheer myself up.

Don't tell me you got the bill for that Anne Summers party you went to.

Don't be silly, Sharon. You know I always pay cash on the night.

What's the problem, then?

Marcus's cousin, Faye, has hoodwinked me into babysitting her daughter for a

week while she and her husband, Maurice, jet off to Kenya on safari. Why would

they want to do that?

Who knows, Tracy?

Perhaps Centre Park was fully booked.

I meant, why would anyone ask you to babysit?

I mean, no offence at all, but you're hardly Mary Poppins, are you?

Meet the nanny with the overactive... Sharon!

She always comes to me when she needs a favour.

Well, why don't you just say no?

Can't, Trace. It's a force of habit.

She's got something on me.

Something I wouldn't want revealed to certain other parties, if you get my

drift.

Marcus. Got it in one.

She once caught me in a rather compromising position with a young

friend of mine.

Draws at half -mast and both hands on his dipstick.

You dirty old cow, the mechanic. He simply popped in to say I was due for my

regular service.

One thing led to another.

You've no idea how erotic grease stains on naked flesh can be.

I have.

Chris always used to eat his chips in bed.

Every time Miss Faye wants a little favour, she just drops hints about...

Exactly. Well, naturally, my hands are tied.

So, how old is Miss Faye's baby, then?

Rosa? I don't know.

Nine? Or 16 or something?

That's hardly babysitting, is it? Well, it may as well be. You should see the

ugly little gnome.

She makes Chelsea Clinton look like Cindy Crawford.

Oh, God, that's them.

There's the little mutant getting out now.

Look at her.

She must have been conceived on a day trip to Sellafield.

Coming, sweetie.

Ciao.

Here, Trace.

The wine bar's been taken over.

They're turning it into one of them new tap house bars.

Oh, yeah?

They're having happy hour tonight.

All drinks are half price.

Starts at six, goes on till midnight.

Flipping long hair, innit?

Well, you're pissed it ain't.

So, what do you reckon then, eh?

You and me, bit of a girls' night out on the res?

Oh, I don't know, Cheryl.

Oh, come on, be a right laugh.

Like the old days down at Royal.

Oh, great.

You'll be rat -arsed and ramming your tongue down the DJ's gullet while I'm

to queue up for the coats and get touched up by the bouncers.

So you don't fancy it then? Are you kidding?

I'll be standing watching another year of Popsie Provence, innit? Oh, really?

Here, what are we going to wear?

I might wear me old jeans. Go a bit grungy -like.

Oh, hold on a minute, Cheryl. I can't.

Why not?

I can't leave Garfield on his own, can I?

Why not?

I'm no home alone, Mum. I love my son.

I love several of his, but I don't mind going out for that one.

I'm worried about him. What if he's getting depressed or something?

He's making me depressed.

Why don't you talk to him like I told you to?

All right, I will.

Good. Good.

You doing anything tonight then, Garth?

Yeah, I am as it happens.

Great.

What are you up to then?

Thought I'd stay in and watch a bit of telly.

That'll make a change.

Look, are you all right? I'm worried about you. You ain't got any problems or

anything, have you?

Like what?

Who knows?

With kids today, it could be anything from glue sniffing to devil worship.

No, everything's all right, Mum. Nothing to worry about. Honest.

Then why haven't you been going out?

I ain't got anyone to go out with.

All me old schoolmates have gone their own way now they're at work or

university. Well, what about catering college? Only got no mates there.

They're not really my type.

All the blokes are wussies.

What's a wuss?

Oh, you know, a bit of a toss. I've been worth it to the wuss.

And what about the girls?

Leave it out, Mum.

Most of them look like Aunty Sharon.

Oi, I heard that.

Oh, thanks, Aunty.

Just that working with all that food gets a little bit tempting for some of

them.

There is this one girl there I like, though. Oh, yeah, who's that?

Her name's Jackie.

Have you asked her out?

No, not exactly. But she did ask for my number.

Well, that's a good sign, isn't it?

Yeah, but she ain't run.

Don't worry, she will.

Here, why don't you come to the wine bar with us tonight?

What?

I don't think so, Mum.

Why not?

Don't force the boy if you don't want to come, Tracey. Come on, we'd better be

getting ready.

I ain't going out and leaving my son in. He needs me.

I don't. Of course you do, I'm your mother.

Bonsoir. Am I interrupting anything?

Wouldn't have thought so, but it's polite to check, isn't it?

God, I have to get out of the house.

One more game of Twister with the brat. I swear I will turn into Rebecca de

Mornay in the hand that rocks the cradle.

It, door.

Why don't you come down that new tap -ass bar with me and Trace? I told you,

ain't down that no tap -ass bar.

It's tap -ass.

Tap -ass.

Oh, it's it.

Anyway, Sharon, I have to babysit.

You two really know how to live life in the bus lane, don't you?

What are you doing here, Rosa?

I thought I told you not to leave the house until after the sun had gone down.

How horrible.

Introduce us.

Oh, if I must.

That's Tracy.

That one is Sharon.

The social monster over there is called Garth.

Hi, Garth. What are you reading?

About the Guns N' Roses tour.

Oh, wow. Flash is my favourite guitarist.

Leave it out.

He can't touch the edge.

Don't you think so?

No, he ain't fit to hold his plectrum.

Flippin' hell, they're communicating.

Girls, group meeting, kitchen, now.

The gods are smiling down upon us. They are saying, ladies, get thy jacksies up

that tap -ass bar and get well... and truly mullered.

But tonight, the manor is your oyster.

Either I've lost the ability to decipher sentences, or they've invented a new

language only the fat can understand.

What are you on about?

We can leave Rosa with Garth reading about the age having a slash or

We can all knob off to happy air down the road.

That way everyone's happy.

Well, I don't think... Barfie will be. We'll see.

Garth, could you come here a moment?

Yes, Auntie Dorian?

Your mother, Sharon, and I want to go out for the evening. Now, is it all

if we leave Rosa here with you?

Me? A babysitter?

No way. Forget it. Would £10 change your mind?

£20 might.

£15? £18 .50. £16 .25.

£18 quid. £17 .50, not a penny more.

Done. I certainly have been.

Thanks, Auntie Dorian. It's been a pleasure doing business with you.

Would you like me to read her a story?

Frankly, I don't care if you beat her around the legs with a wire coat hanger.

Just keep her occupied until we get back.

Will do. Aunt Garth? Yes, Auntie Dorian?

If you ever call me Auntie again, I shall tell your mother about the time

watched me taking a shower through your binoculars.

When was that?

About 11 .30 tonight.

Oh,

nice of the DJ to let everyone know you're here, ain't you?

Shut up, Sharon.

What have they done to this place? It's like an 1830s holiday camp. And I wonder

why they didn't want to let you in.

Pack it in, you two. This is meant to be happy hour.

Happy? The three of us, sitting here, alone and unloved, sipping watered -down

cocktails. What's so happy about that?

God, it's leaving the metaphor for my life. Thank God, help me.

It's not the place.

It's the company what matters.

Now I am depressed.

My life was never meant to turn out like this.

I mean, what have I got left to look forward to?

My breasts have already failed the pencil test.

In a few years, I'll probably have my first serious hip operation.

After that, it's a downhill dribble towards Meals on Wheels and mail

continence pants.

My breasts never took no pencil test.

They ain't got no pencils big enough.

I was voted the girl most likely to make a major contribution to mankind.

Well, you did, didn't you?

You slept with most of us.

Come on, relax and finish your cocktail.

OK, everybody, back on the floor for a conga!

I don't think Aunty Dorian likes me very much.

I wouldn't take it personally.

She doesn't like anyone very much.

My mum and dad go off on holiday without me and I'm dumped off on some neurotic

aunt who can't stand the sight of me.

Story of my life.

Come on, it can't be that bad.

Oh, can't it?

If Aunty Dorian had her way, she'd keep me chained up in the attic until my

parents get back.

You wouldn't be the first.

Tell you what, you fancy a little drink?

Oh, I don't know. I don't usually.

Come on, just the one.

After all, they're out having fun. Why shouldn't we?

Oh, Matt

Long. God, what a boring night.

It's like taking two Mogadon and watching the BAFTAs in slow motion.

Here,

where's the kid?

Oh, well, the sun's come up. Rose has obviously gone back to her coffin.

I'd better go.

We really must do this again sometime.

Great, when?

It's about when hell freezes over.

Ciao.

What was that?

Came from out the back by the pole. Oh, my God.

Burglars. Call the police.

We can't.

Why not?

The filter unit was on place five last week.

We'd better go and have a look.

Come and give me that bottle.

Calm down, Mum.

I said I'll replace your champagne.

Never mind the champagne.

What was going on in that jacuzzi last night?

What was coming off, more like.

Look, Mum, I'm a young adult.

Not in my house, you're not. You look like an episode of Chigwell 90218 in

there.

I don't know why you're so angry.

I took precautions.

So what do you want, a paper hat?

I tell you what, Garfield, it's lucky for you your father weren't here.

Luckier still Chris weren't there.

what would he have done?

Jumped in with them, probably.

I'm really disappointed in you.

You really let me down.

How? What have I done?

You know what you've done.

Yeah, the same thing you and Aunty Sharon used to do.

Oi, I still do it sometimes.

Not often, mind.

Mum, you're just a hypocrite.

Am I not allowed to have sex just because you don't?

Well, I happen to really like Rosa, and she likes me. So everyone else can just

shove off and mind their own business.

Well, that's holding trace.

Did you hear the way he spoke to me?

If he thinks he's seeing that little tart again, he's got another thing

Do you reckon all the women in Dorian's family are like that?

You know, genetic nymphos like.

That's a surprise, shall.

Some families are double -jointed.

Hers have all got fold -away backbones and carpet bones.

Oh, no!

Trace was just talking about you. I am not here to exchange pleasantries. Where

is the little pervert?

What? I am referring to that debauched son of yours. The deflowerer of young

virgins.

How could he, Tracey?

Taking advantage of a young innocent like Rosa.

What? Rosa's about as innocent as Jack the Flipping Ripper.

Are you insinuating that my... This is easy.

Well, she didn't look very difficult from where I was standing.

If the cats fit, yes. Well, I don't want either of them seeing each other again,

Tracy. Is that clear?

Suits me fine.

If Bea and Maurice find out about this, there will be hell to pay. They are well

-respected members of the community and will have had the best education that

money can buy.

Have you any idea what they would say if they found out that their only daughter

has been banging the son of a banged up...

Garth is of common stock.

He can't help it. After all, you're his... Never mind.

But you see, Rosa is different. She has breeding.

She was breeding last time I saw her.

Tracy, I don't mean to offend you, but things are the way they are.

Dogs go with dogs.

Cats go with cats. It's the way of the world.

Except dogs just had your cat.

Well,

I think we'll forget the whole unfortunate incident ever occurred. Oh,

You come over here insulting my son and then you want to wipe the slate clean.

I ain't stupid, Dorian. The only reason you don't want them seeing each other is

you're worried what Faye might say to Marcus when she finds out.

Greasy. Don't be unreasonable. We can talk about it. I think you've said

madam. As far as Rosa and Garth are concerned, I think they make a lovely

and they've got my blessing.

Now out!

Now!

Where's Garth?

Getting ready to go out.

With Rosa again?

Yep.

That'll be every night this week.

Dorian must be going ballistic.

I wouldn't know.

She hasn't had the nerve to show her mug round here.

I hope you know what you're doing, Trace.

What do you mean?

Encouraging Garth and Rosa.

I mean, you're only doing it to give Dor the hump, aren't you? No, I ain't.

Well, maybe a little bit, but it serves her right.

You're playing with fire, girl.

If they're still seeing each other when her parents get back, the batter's

really going to hit the blinder.

You don't really want Faith to tell Mark about Doreen's little fling, do you? I

suppose not.

But she shouldn't have said those things about my Garfield.

And anyway, it ain't going to happen.

What do you mean?

They're young. They hardly know each other.

It'll soon fizzle out. You mark my words.

That's what Mum said about you and Daryl.

Hi, Mickey Stubbs.

Hello, Rosa.

You look nice.

New dress?

It's one of Auntie Dorian's, actually.

I did happen to come across it in her wardrobe.

A bit young for her, though, isn't it?

Garth, you ready?

Yeah. I'll give him a shout.

Garthie!

Garthie!

My sister would have made a terrific town crier.

She'd have made a pretty good town.

What is?

Nothing.

Off anywhere nice tonight, Rosa?

Gas taking me to the new tapas bar.

Simply adore tapas.

You know, when we go to Mummy and Daddy's villa in Puerto Banos, I

live off chorizo and calamari.

Who are they, the next -door neighbours?

No, they're delicacies, Mrs Stubbs. Spanish sausage and squid.

Nice.

Speaking of your mum and dad, when are they due back?

They're playing lands tonight.

I'll be going home tomorrow.

I expect you and Garfield will be having a little farewell drink tonight then.

No way.

I can't wait to introduce Garfield to mummy and daddy.

I know they're going to love him.

Rosa, you do know Garfield isn't Jewish, don't you?

Of course I do, Mrs Stubbs.

I noticed the other night in the jacuzzi.

We're off then, Mum.

Don't wait up.

Don't push your luck.

Well, Trace, I ain't one to say I told you so, but... You told me so.

Tomorrow should be a laugh, then.

Faye and Maurice will find out about Garth.

Marcus will find out about Dorian and the Randy mechanic.

And you will find out what it's like to be up to your neck... Thank you, Sharon.

I think I get your drift.

So what are you going to do then?

Nothing.

What?

If my son wants to go out with a girl, I'll stand by him, no matter what.

What about the consequences?

Dorian may never speak to you again.

Yes, I see your point.

That's a cuppa. Yeah, I'm spitting feathers.

There's something old and wrinkly outside our window.

Ask her what she wants.

What do you want?

I come under the flag of peace.

That ain't a flag of peace.

It's a pair of cami knickers stuck on top of a riding crotch. Well, I

improvised. It was the best I could do.

If you're here to try and spit out Garth and Rosa, you can fling your hook,

because my son is good enough to go out with whomever he wants.

You're right, Tracy.

Of course he is.

But that doesn't necessarily mean that they are good enough to go out with him.

You what?

It's Rosa.

I was worried she might telephone her mother and tell her what's been going

So? Yes.

I've been monitoring her calls.

Eavesdropping, you mean. I thought monitoring sounded less Jewish. Anyway,

overheard her speaking to a friend.

Apparently, Rosa has been trying to get her father to buy her the new Mazda MX

-5 convertible.

Without much luck, I might add.

What's all that got to do with Garthy? Everything, I'm afraid.

Rosa intends to use him as a bargaining device.

I don't get it.

I do.

Daddy gets the hump about Garth, so she agrees to dump him in return for a nice

little privy. It's like a sports car.

Exactly.

I'm afraid darling Rosa has been a manipulative little bitch.

Can't think where she gets it from.

Break her neck, the little vixen.

Trifing with my Garfield affections.

And the rest.

What are you going to do then?

I'll tell him.

God knows there he'll be gutted.

Tracy. What?

I'm really sorry.

Truly. If there was anything I could do.

I think you've done enough.

Hi, Mum.

Still up?

Yeah.

Nice evening?

You know.

Come and sit down. I want to talk to you.

About Rosa.

Actually, Mum, there's something I want to say to you. No, let me finish what I

was saying first. No, no, please, hear me out. It's important.

Look, I know how much you like Rosa, and I'm really glad that you didn't let

what happened affect things.

You really gave us a chance to get to know each other. See how much we had in

common?

It's because of that that tonight I told Rosa that... Oh, Garfield, no.

I didn't want to see her anymore.

What? I dumped her.

Give her the big E.

You know.

But I thought you were getting on really well with her.

She's not my type, Mum.

Rosie's a bit of a snob, really.

You should have seen her down that tapest bar tonight.

She didn't stop moaning.

Said it was like an 1830s holiday camp.

And what did you say?

Nothing. I was too busy throwing up in her handbag.

Anyway, what was it you wanted to say?

Nothing important.

Just don't go rushing into things.

There's plenty of time to find the right girl.

I know.

And I know exactly what kind I'm looking for.

What's that?

Someone just like my mum.

Give me that cuddle.

My dear, she'd have to like jacuzzis as well.

So, all's well that ends well?

Yeah. Faye and Maurice picked her up this morning. She went off quiet as a

And Dorian's little secret is still safe.

Is Garfield right? Yeah, that girl Jackie from the college row. They'd gone

for the day.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Here, Trace.

Have you and Daryl ever done it in a jacuzzi?

Why'd you run beeswax?

Me and Chris had.

Well, it weren't exactly a jacuzzi.

More a big bath.

And Chris had had two portions of sprouts for supper.

Tracy.

Tracy. What? What? Don't worry about a thing. I have sorted it all out.

You what? Don't thank me. It was the least I could do.

I waited up for Rosa last night. I told her the game was up. I warned her if she

ever saw Garth again, I would tell Marie everything I knew about her little

scheme.

And she agreed, I suppose.

Oh, yes.

Of course, I had to oil her palm a little, just to make sure.

Oh, yeah.

That dress of mine that she'd taken a fancy to. Had to let her keep it. Still,

what's a new frock, eh?

Small price to pay for Garthy's happiness.

And our friendship.

He'd already chapped her door.

I'm sorry?

By the time you spoke to her, he'd already packed her in.

No, he can't have, can he?

You're kidding.

You're not.

No. My dress.

I gave her my dress.

Deal. What's the new frock, Adolf?

What's a new frock?

About £1 ,800 when it is designed by Herr Blaget.

That's it. She's dead meat. I'll kill her. I'll kill her. I'll kill her.

What a lad.

With only dreams.