All language subtitles for Birds of a Feather s05e09 East Side Story

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.