Original subtitles

What do I do when you are f -

So, who do you fancy?

Tom Cruise or Danny DeVito?

Hmm, let me think.

Mr. Drop Dead Gorgeous or something that fell off a charm bracelet.

That's one natural.

On video.

We've got a stack to choose from. Yeah, this is going to be a proper girls'

night in. Watch videos, shave our legs and eat our body weight in oven chips.

Accompanied by the mellow tones of Sharon's flatulence.

Has it really come to this?

No, it'll be good, Dore. I've got some of that new American ice cream that's

supposed to be better than sex.

You poor, sad girl.

Don't taste bad with a mango face pack.

Think I'll drop a line to that Keith Floyd.

Sharon, that was supposed to be for all of us. Oh, don't worry on my account,

Tracy. I don't need ice cream as a substitute for sex.

So why are you stuck in here with us of a Saturday night?

Instead of working up a sweat with your latest bit of rough.

Try camaraderie, Sharon.

Or geniality.

Or cobblers.

I know. You're here so that the next time you tell Marcus you're here, only

ain't, he'll think you are because you was last time.

This time.

Tonight.

Oh, why is my love life so complicated?

Do you want the serious sociological answer?

Or is it just because you're an old tart?

When we were young, it was so simple.

Yeah. Boys.

Records. Make -up. Boys.

That was it. That was our life.

No crow's feet.

No pants or tacks.

No threatening letters from telecom.

Eh?

Me biro packed up. I'll pay it tomorrow.

You know, I look in the mirror sometimes.

No need to depress yourself, Dor.

And I wonder where my innocence went.

A couple of thousand mattresses could answer that one.

If you could curb the insults for just five seconds, Sharon, I'm trying to make

a profound philosophical point here.

Well, go on.

I want to be young again!

Just smile and nod, Trace.

But to remember when we were teenagers, it was so easy.

You fancied him, he fancied you, but you couldn't tell him, so you got your best

friend to tell his best friend. Hang on, hang on.

I thought you said it was all so simple then.

All has time, we've written every line.

And if we had the chance to do it all again, tell me, would we?

Could we?

First love is special, isn't it? It's not like second love or the one after

that.

Third love.

First boyfriend.

There's nothing like it. Oh, no.

She's about to launch into that story about how Daryl flipped her bra strap in

biology. Wasn't it geography?

Whatever. And she went all quivery and she knew he was the only one for her.

shut up, Sharon.

It's a very sweet story.

Do you want to hear it? Is there a Michael Winner film in this kind of

Get some more cornflakes when we go shopping, Chase.

Still half a box left.

It's all that talking about boys. It makes me angry.

What talking about boys? As soon as I started, you banged on a video.

I know Daryl was your first boyfriend.

And I know how you met him.

I could do it on Mastermind as my specialist subject.

M &S bra, weren't it? Paddy job.

Well, you're wrong.

Right, British Island stores, what's the difference?

Daryl was my first love, but he wasn't my first boyfriend.

Of course he was.

So, tell Trace who her first boyfriend was, will you?

Daryl, of course.

He flicked her bra strap in, whatever it was, and blah, blah, blah.

See? You're both wrong.

Do you want a smack round the head?

Say, yes, Sharon, Daryl was my first boyfriend.

Robert Radford.

Robert Radford, truth be, would be down comprehensive.

He was my first boyfriend.

Come to think of it, she did have his name scribbled all over her roughbook.

But her spelling was so chronic, I thought she was talking about Butch

mate.

Well, go on then, spill the beans.

Well, you know all about my love life.

Yeah, and what you did with that AA man last week was unnatural.

We only went out twice.

First date to Batsy Fun Fair, the second one to the Wimpy Bar. Then on our third

date, he stood me up outside the Osvaldo.

Never gone so red in my whole life.

Embarrassment. Mate, it was pouring of rain and my T -shirt rang.

We've all been stood up at some time in our lives, Tracey.

Stood up?

Not a term I'm familiar with.

Daryl flipped my bra strap in biology and my heart went all quivery and I knew

he was the one for me.

You see, what happened was, it was after netball practice and I was sitting

behind Jenny's hips and Daryl was sitting behind me.

Oh!

See that little skirt?

I wore one just like it on a date with my first boyfriend.

Warren Hutchins.

Oh, God, yeah, that's right. You and I, we wore Warren Hutchins, didn't you? Is

he short, fat and smelly?

No. He was tall, darling. And that's Bossy. Honestly, Dot, he had the world's

worst acne.

If you hadn't joined up all the Dots, you could have made a picture.

What happened?

All me mates took the mickey.

Tits and zits, they called them.

I gave him the elbow.

He was all right, though, Warren.

Used to make me laugh.

I don't know what happened to him. Oh, who cares?

Oh, come on, Dore.

My lips are sealed.

Don't tell me.

Your first boyfriend was John Major, so you've had to sign the Official Secrets

Act. Sharon, I've had pleasure, not charity.

Well, who is it, then? I can't say.

But the tabloids will pay big bucks to hear what we got up to.

Especially at the Gaumont Finchley when we went to see Help.

Yeah, we did find out how that film ended.

Oh, come on, you're dying to tell us.

Well, give us a clue.

Let's just say it's someone very much in the public eye.

John Major!

Prince Charles?

Hang about, hang about. We ain't going back far enough.

Percy Sutton?

Fred Flintstone?

That's the name.

Mean anything to you?

Yes, please, Mrs Price.

It's great that Woodbury Down keeps in touch with so many of its ex -pupils.

Oh, me?

Oh, this and that, you know.

Actually, I'm in business with my big sister, Tracy.

You remember Tracy?

Yeah, well, I think the bladder problems were stress -related.

No, no, she's fine now.

The rubber knickers work to treat.

OK, then. Yeah.

Thanks very much. Bye.

Stupid me.

She put me in detention once for loitering in the cloakrooms.

Of course I was loitering. I had to run me bookies from somewhere, didn't I?

Yes, but did she tell you what you want to know?

I've got it all.

Phone numbers, addresses, inside leg measurements, the lot. I wish you

Shell. Oh, don't tell me you never wondered what happened to Robert

He wrote me a lovely poem once.

I bet he's a famous writer.

Close. He runs a cat food stall down the Walthamstow market.

William Wordsworth eats your heart out.

And what about Warren, the walking pimple?

Been all over the place, apparently.

Amsterdam, San Francisco.

Got his own business up the West End.

For now, what?

For now, we get in touch with him.

Find out what our lives might have been like as Tracy Radford and Sharon

Hutchins. And Dorian Henty.

I'm only doing it if she does. Tracy, be reasonable. I can't possibly contact

Derek Henty.

He's a very important public figure, unaccustomed to scandal.

God bless, he's a Tory MP!

Junior Minister, actually, in employment.

Rumour has it he's directly under Michael Portillo.

It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

How come you've never contacted him before?

Oh, opening old wounds is very painful.

especially when they haven't healed.

She's right, Cheryl.

It's like when you pick a scab and it says... I thought you wanted to feel

again, Joe.

If you was to get in touch with your first boyfriend, the years would just

away. A facelift would be less distressing.

You dumped him, did you?

We were foolish, immature, headstrong.

We weren't ready for commitment. We needed more space.

So he dumped you? Sharon, I have never been dumped.

In my life.

Since.

Well, I for one want to know what happened to Warren Hutchins.

See if that catering packer clear as hell did the trick.

Hello? Is that Robert Radford, cat food king of Walthamstow?

I have a call for you.

Admit it, Trace.

Ain't you just a little bit excited?

Yeah, a bit.

He had a great smile, lovely eyes, hair like Mark Bolan.

And he could snog the tonsils off you.

Well, there he is.

I still want to go home.

Robert?

It's me, Tracy.

Tracy?

Wow.

You haven't changed a bit.

you were going to see Shaft at the Oceldo, right?

I'd even blown all my pocket money on a leatherette bomber jacket.

And?

And I didn't show up.

Perhaps it was just as well.

That jacket didn't half make me sweat.

Forty -five minutes I waited for you.

I felt such a prac.

For you and me both. Oh, yeah, right.

I did.

But while you were standing outside the pictures, I was head first down a public

bowl with a side -eight bother boot up me arse.

I was on my way to the cinema, on it.

But this oink jumped me, kicked the crap out of me, and said if I didn't want my

tackle turned into costume jewellery, I was to leave you alone and never go out

with you again.

You're kidding.

No offence, Tracy, but...

I was very attached to my tackle.

Well, I still am.

Thank God.

That's terrible.

Who was it?

I don't know. Some yobby little Herbert from the estate.

What was his name?

Darren.

Daryl something.

Remember him, do you?

Well, Derek, you blew it in 1965.

Seems only fair to give you another chance.

And I blame it on the so -called swinging sixties.

What are your feelings on free love?

Well, I certainly wouldn't pay for it.

Nonsense,

Derek. What do you think the whips are for?

Derek Henty.

It is, isn't it? How marvellous.

It's me, Dorian. Of course it is. Of course it is. Two quid of sea.

Terrific. And valuable support. Thank you so much.

Giles, you old bastard. How the devil are you?

I hate these machines.

So, it'd be really great to see you again, Warren.

Have a laugh.

Talk about the old times.

And the acne.

I mean, the places in Hackney where we used to go.

So, if you fancy it, you pick the spot.

I mean... You suggest somewhere where we can meet.

OK.

Goodbye. In case you've forgotten me, I used to be Sharon Rackham.

Light brown hair, big... big smile.

They used to call us tits and... I used to be...

I

would like to make an

extremely generous donation to Party Fund.

Well, that... Super of you. Thank you so much.

Terrific support. Absolutely invaluable.

It's me.

Dorian Green, kneecapper. You can't have forgotten.

Bournemouth Conference, 1991.

Gaumont Finchley, 1965.

Of course, of course. It's super to see you. Now, if you could just make the

check... What are you doing here?

I'm revisiting my youth.

And you're the youth I'm revisiting.

This is hardly the time or the place. What did you have in mind? There's a

multiplex across the road.

Well, it's stupid to see you again talk over old times and so forth, but I

really must press the flesh. I thought you'd never ask.

So, if you'll excuse me.

Daphne, what a charming hat.

It was amazing, Trice.

Warren sounded just the same.

His voice had broken, I hope.

Same laugh.

Same daft sense of humour?

Same zits.

Didn't you ask?

Oh, yeah, sure.

How you doing, Warren?

You still got a face like four cheese pizza?

Well, if he ain't, you might not recognise him.

I'd know him anywhere.

Where are you meeting him?

Some restaurant in Islington.

I nearly suggested the spotted dog.

You ain't having any silly fantasies, are you?

You know me, Trace. I'm always having silly fantasies.

You should have seen what me, Linford Christie and that TV doctor got up to

night in me head.

That Warren shall.

I mean, what if he's married?

What if he's horrible?

What if he's a slaphead like Robert?

You shouldn't judge people by the way they look, Trace.

I mean, I may be a dead ringer for Cindy Crawford, but... People like me for my

wrong personality.

Still can't get over how much that Robert had changed.

Still. If Darrow hadn't duffed him up in 1972, I might not be here now.

You could have been the Anita Roddick of horse meat.

Flushing someone's head down the car, because you want to go out with their

girlfriend. It's dead romantic, isn't it?

Put it in a Mills and Boone trace, they'd never believe you.

Derek Henty's office.

Dorian Green.

I presume he didn't get all my other messages or he would have phoned back.

Oh.

Well, just tell him I phoned.

Again.

Regarding... Oh, silly, immature decisions people make in their youth

and then live to regret when he... I mean, they get older.

Oh, my God, bring me up, Scott.

Oh, this is fantastic.

Of course, Derek was thrilled to see me again.

I mean, what man wouldn't be thrilled to be reunited with a long -lost love?

The first woman to open her heart to him.

And the rest.

Especially when the years have been so kind to the woman in question.

And she is still as vibrant and as sensual as ever.

Perhaps even more so.

Have the years been kind to him, too?

Not in a literal sense.

But power is a huge aphrodisiac.

That's true.

If Hillary Clinton were to kick Bill out, I wouldn't mind putting him up for

night.

But shouldn't lovemaking also be a meeting of minds?

I thought you said you like him with a small IQ and a big... Derek is clever.

Rude.

Ambitious. We come from the same place.

Burnt oak?

Intellectually. We've gone on the same journey.

From semi -detached to the corridors of power.

Via a few potting sheds in your case.

So when are you seeing him again?

Oh, I can't say. I mean, supposing the press found out.

We need time to rekindle our love in private. And what about you?

You seeing your follicly challenged heartthrob again?

Need history at all.

Be honest.

The past is a nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there.

Holidays, that would be nice, though.

I was always getting into trouble at the gulp, doing daft things because my

mates told me to.

If they'd have said, Sharon, jump off the roof, I would have done. You did.

Luckily, it was only the bike shed.

And then when they started taking the mick out of you, us, I couldn't handle

Wow. Doesn't matter now.

It does.

I'm sorry if I let your feelings run. I really am.

Oh, you were right. I did have a face like a monkey's bum.

Did I say that?

Yeah.

I meant it affectionately.

You dumped me, and then my parents split up.

I went to a new school, and suddenly found out I could draw.

For the first time in my life, I was really happy.

And my skin cleared up overnight.

And now you're a graphic designer with your own business up the West End. Yeah,

and it's going really well.

And I met you again, Shell.

You tell me, how great can life get?

Is Warren really a hunk, or did you just say that to Rattle Dorian?

I guarantee you, Trace, if your jaw don't hit the shag pile when he walks

I'll give you this shirt off me back.

It's my shirt anyway.

Isn't it, eh?

Yes, it is.

And you've got all brown sauce all over my white jumper.

My white jumper? My white jumper! What was it yours? It's always been my white

jumper. Oh, you just made me have to go along with you, Trace.

You're dribbling all over my white shirt.

I can't get over it. You used to be such a dork at school.

And it's great to see you too, Trace. No offence, but you were. We used to call

you Monkey's Bum.

We used to call you Bogwell Boobs.

No offence, but we did.

I can't get over it. And here you are, looking gorgeous.

Spot the difference, eh?

I'm sorry about this, Warren.

She don't get out much.

I don't mind, Shell.

It's brilliant to meet up with someone else who shares the same roots.

Yeah, it's a bugger when your eye lights go out, isn't it?

No, I'm sorry, Shell. I can't get over it. It's so lovely.

Another tease ball.

Possibly borrow a cup of sugar. You must be Warren. You can't possibly be.

Let me guess.

Dorian from next door. Hello.

All right, Sharon, where did you get him?

At my Argos catalogue. Where did you find him?

Admit it. You rented him for the evening, didn't you?

Because the real Warren still has a face like an overripe strawberry.

It is Warren, Dorian. No, it isn't. He's fabulous.

Sharon can't have fabulous boyfriends.

It's a Chigwell bylaw.

Well, I think she's pretty fabulous too.

Actually, we've got something to tell you, haven't we, Warren?

Well, if you're sure, Sal.

I'm in your hands completely.

Later, you animal.

What is it, Sal? What have you got to tell us?

Well, it's like this.

Oh, you tell them, Warren. I'm too busy pinching myself.

What?

Well, it hurt when Sharon dumped me all those years ago.

But I never forgot her.

I mean, you don't forget your first girlfriend, do you?

And over the years, I never doubted we'd meet again.

So when she called, I was over the moon.

He was worried too.

Yeah, yeah, sure I was.

What if she wasn't the same Sharon I'd loved all those years ago?

But she is.

And I do.

I always will.

And we want to spend the rest of our lives together.

Was that OK, darling?

He was perfect.

He was a lovely man.

I've just got to... If you'll excuse me, I must...

Derek.

Yes?

I expect seeing him here again brought back countless fond memories for you

Our first kiss.

Those stolen hours in the young conservative stationery cupboard.

The mole on your left buttock.

What do you want from me?

Just to talk about old times, honestly.

You see, I know I was happy when I was 16 and I just can't remember why.

Well, I thought you might know.

Look, Doreen.

Er...

Dorian.

Whatever.

If you have blackmail in mind, let me tell you here and now, it won't wash.

I don't wear women's underwear.

I've never supported Chelsea. And I have absolutely no desire to spend more time

with my family.

Goodbye.

Hello, Derek.

Hello?

Derek? Derek?

I know there's a bottle of bubbly here somewhere. I was keeping it for

Garfield's engagement.

Save it, Trice.

Kidding? It's not every day your kid sister marries her childhood sweetheart.

I read a story like this once in Woman's Own.

Only he had a terminal illness.

Or was it her?

Well, one of them snuffed it anyway.

Get that, will you, Sharon?

Here it is.

Only Lambrusco, I'm afraid.

Left to save the posh stuff for the wedding.

Is it the middle of a church or a registry office?

Of course, she's no virgin bride, Sharon.

But then who is?

Come to think of it, I was.

Oh, am I interrupting a family celebration?

No, grab a glass, whoever you are.

I just thought, if we want to get the midnight sailing to Calais, we'd better

hit the road.

We've got this house in the Dodoin, but Warren thinks it's going to convert

itself. You must come and stay with us sometime.

Honestly, I've heard so much about you. You're Sharon, right? That's right.

So you must be Bogroll Boobs.

I'm Peter, Warren's, um, significant other.

You horrible cave. Let me wrap it on. I bet I've gone all red.

I only did it to wind Dorian up. You know what you're like at keeping a

So you were gay all along.

I bet it was Sharon that turned you that way.

No, Trace. It was already there in my jeans.

Along with a tendency to this.

And now you're supposed to say, what a waste.

Well, it is.

Trust me, it isn't.

Promise you won't tell Dor?

Well, at least not for a bit anyway.

She's bound to find out sooner or later.

Like when you don't get married.

Yeah, fair enough.

I might as well hold out for a wedding present, eh?

Bondoose, that'd be nice.

So when did you find out he was, er, batting for the other side?

Didn't have to be Poirot to work it out, did you?

It was Peter this, Peter that.

They're mad about each other.

They did make a lovely couple.

Well, then so did you.

I was just talking to Sharon about her gorgeous fella, Dore.

Well, he was quite presentable, I suppose.

Now you've met Warren, when are we going to meet your private member?

I'm sorry?

Go on, Dore.

Sharon will promise not to wear her Stuff the Tories T -shirt, won't you,

Sharon? Of course I will.

Can I at least have it drying over the radiator, though?

Derek is a very private person.

I wouldn't want him pestered.

But it's all going well, is it?

Absolutely.

He's thrilled to have me back in his life as well.

Warren is about Sharon.

That much, eh?

There's a documentary on BBC Two about pond life.

Oh, Sharon might see another of your old boyfriends.

So, Mr Henty, how does it feel to be picked on by the media as... It's Derek!

It's all Derek!

I'll be honest, I don't take these things too seriously.

It's for the Prime Minister to see my potential, not you hard -bitten hacks.

But you're prepared for high office. No skeletons in the cupboard, so to speak?

Absolutely none.

Of course, the occasional ghost from the past can come back to haunt you.

Perhaps an old girlfriend gets hold of your private line and keeps pestering

you. That kind of thing.

You have to bring in a special branch to have the calls traced.

But you just have to accept that the world is full of nutters and... and

numbs...

Couldn't snog to save his life.

LAUGHTER Just

two

frames separate the finalists in the UK snooker championship tonight. BBC Two

picks up the action again in ten minutes' time.

Drama next tonight here on BBC One and Confrontation in C4.

That won't come