All language subtitles for Birds of a Feather s07e06 Rising Damp.eng

Rich tea biscuits or double chocolate
chip cheesecake?

You have to ask.

It's like Monopoly, isn't it?

Cheesecake?

How nice.

Daryl and Chris have gone directly to
jail.

Dorian's been chucked out of Mayfair.

And we're back at go, trying to throw a
sixth.

Are you the dog or the old boot?

We're prisoners' wives all over again.

Is that déjà vu? Have we done that
already?

You know what's weird?

Moira Stewart was wearing that horrible
brooch.

You and Dor were set for life.

Rich hubby. Great house.

Top of the range bog roll.

While I was stuck with a serial loser in
the dothole time forgot.

Get to the point, shall.

Well, I'm sticking by my man, and you
two aren't.

And call me stupid, but I thought when
Marcus chucked Dorian out, we'd see less

of her.

You're stupid.

But there you are, ever -present, like
the fart that follows you into the car.

Staying with Mummy is driving me mad. I
had two fillings and a bikini wax

yesterday just to get out the house.

Is this the gear I'm going to get my leg
over, Indore?

A sad old bag coming apart at the seams.

Oh, no offence, Indore.

I have got a complete set of Louis
Vuitton pigskin cruise luggage. And how

salvage the remnants of my life in bin
bags?

How dare Mark has thrown me out?

He made me feel like a contestant on
Supermarket Sweep.

My cleaner watches it.

Well, there's the sleeve. Where's the
rest of it?

So where does this write on the old
pulometer then, Dor?

I do think you should exercise
compulsion, Tracy.

See what you mean.

Does the phrase pot calling the kettle
black ring any bells?

Is this really a sensible way to move on
with your life? I mean, I know Daryl

let you down, but... Let me down?

Listen, Dor, I waited for him
faithfully. I never so much as looked at

bloke. Oh, yeah.

OK, so I looked.

Yeah. I even had the occasional ogle.

Yeah.

Remember that bloke at the greengrocer's
with the jeans, what, you wanted to

stick your finger through the old?

He weren't at the greengrocer's. He was.

Oh, yeah.

I waited because I promised.

I waited and I waited and I sod him
waited.

And the loser couldn't keep his nose
clean for five minutes.

And he ripped us off into the bargain.

And now he's back inside where he
belongs.

Next time he comes out, I hope it's on a
Zimmer frame.

I have been parked in a lay -by for
seven years. Now it's time to live life

fast lane.

Well, as long as you clunk -click every
trip.

I found to see how you can regain your
self -esteem and faith in humanity by,

you so frequently put it, strumping
everything with a pole.

remember that one door.

First time you wore it, I thought you'd
adopted puppies.

Oh yeah, and that waiter poured blue
cheese dressing into my handbag because

couldn't take his eyes off her front
knees.

Here, you want to hold on to that one
door.

Stop them dragging along the ground as
you walk.

I should do.

So, you two come into the rugby club
disco with me on Saturday or not?

So, you want to write 20 different
letters?

No, no, I want to write 20 identical
letters, but to 20 different people, and

make it look as if I've just written to
them.

Each, separately.

Look, out of this hand, I want to get
the tone right.

Dear Lord Longford, Michael Howard,
Anthea Turner, whoever, I am the wife of

Christopher Theodopolopoulos, an
innocent man, who had been wrongly

for a crime he did not commit.

No, really this time.

Please support my client to clear his
nose.

His name.

I respect your strong principles and
wish you were still presenting the

Well, that bit's just rampier,
obviously.

Yours in the struggle for truth and
justice, Sharon Theodopolopoulos.

P .S. All donations gratefully received.

Well, what do you think?

Except I don't want to give too much
away in case I let on that he's a

tow rag.

Except this time he ain't.

Yeah, unlike my dad, who couldn't go
straight if you gave him a ruler.

How can he do it, Sharon?

Because he was born to it, love.

Because he doesn't know any better.

Because when God was giving out common
sense, your dad was in the queue

how to catch peanuts in his mouth.

I tried to respect him, I really did.

Even though he fancies Virginia
Bottomley.

And he puts ketchup all over my wild
mushroom risotto.

And he's a git.

But dads are supposed to be like that.
It's their job.

I mean, I might have respected him if
he'd been a clever villain, but he's so

useless he couldn't even break into a
jar of coffee.

Virginia Bottomley.

Kinky.

It's all right for you. You knew Chris
would end up back inside.

He likes the gravy.

But I thought Dad would stay out of
trouble. Well, for Mum and me.

Forget about him. He's a lost cause,
like West Ham.

What do I do now, then?

Well, first, you've got to turn it on.

Tracy?

Sharon? What?

Excellent with your eyes.

You're practically down to the Y -front
on that one over there.

I've been off him ages ago.

I know I've been rather brazen in my
times. At least I'd never goose him out

until we'd been formally introduced.

I'm Toby.

Nice to meet you.

Remember that bloke

in the cab who used to fondle you by the
fruit machine? You hated that. That was

different. I was a married woman then.

You still are. In name only.

My passport may say Mrs. Daryl Stubbs,
but my heart is poor. Look at the

lunchbox on that one.

Can't get many of them to the plant.

Well, if you are going to live life in
the fast lane, at least you've got a

decent range of motors to test drive.

Yeah. If you like the collective IQ of a
sponge, suppose they hold a certain

charm. If I found him in my bed, I'd
give him 24 hours to get out.

If he was tied to the bedstead with a
pair of my tights, he'd never get out.

I'd like to propose a toast to the three
R's.

Retaliation, retribution and revenge.

On Marcus, Daryl and British so -called
justice.

I know my mother gave me life, but
promise me, if I turn into her, you'll

me humanely took down.

You won't feel a thing.

You should have heard her tonight.

Where are you going?

When will you be home? Don't forget to
double lock the front door. Why are your

hands round my throat?

When a mother cares, it shows.

I have to get out.

I want my house back. Haven't I suffered
enough?

Oh, yeah.

Marcus was dead unreasonable chucking
you out of his house after he found you

with his business partner.

What's done is done.

Water under the bridge.

But while we are pointing the finger,
he's... the one that spawned a little

Marcus with that dreary Geraldine.

What's she got that I haven't got?

Your Marcus.

Only he doesn't know, you know.

I know he doesn't know.

I would know if he knew I knew, you
know, wouldn't you?

No.

So what's the plan?

Get stiller and go round and shout
surprise, surprise through the

Well, there are two ways. Two ways of
letting him know I am aware of his

secret life.

One, the rational, civilized way.

And two, the spiteful, petulant way.

I choose my moment, then run up.

I drop him in it so deep only his hair
weave will show.

Tracy can look after herself.

It's not Tracy. I'm worried about her.

Look, I'm sorry I didn't phone last
night.

Ten pence for a mother's peace of mind.
Absolutely money.

Cheap at the price.

Look, I'm sorry the front door was
unlocked, all right?

Is your Capitamonte intact?

Are there new age travellers squatting
in your den?

I'm done then.

Look, I've got to go.

Sharon drank too much last night.

Yes, that's why I stayed over, to look
after her.

Dorian, Dorian, the cockroach is all
stampeding again.

Absolutely, Mummy. Getting drunk is so
common.

Yes, I'll see you later.

12 .30.

12 .31 at the absolute latest.

Yes, yes, yes.

I love you too, Mummy.

How did this happen?

Maybe that sixth bottle of wine you
drank was off.

How can I, a dynamic, self -assured
woman, with 47 pairs of Italian handmade

shoes and a stomach so flat you could
eat peas off it, how can I be living

my mother?

Don't they roll into your belly button?

Tell me, how?

Well, nothing lasts forever, Dor.

If I play my cards right, staying with
money could be a temporary blip.

Geraldine has invited me to tea this
afternoon.

Now, fingers crossed, the fight of me
will give Marcus a heart attack and then

I'll have my health back.

What are you watching?

Oprah Winfrey. It's all about seduction
techniques for the 90s.

Has she covered prancing about on a pool
table showing you drawers to a room

full of rugby players?

I was doing my Tina Turner.

You were doing my Edding.

I was the only one in the room who
didn't know where to look.

What's the big deal? You know why I went
to the rugby club, do? And it weren't

to discuss the quality of Jeremy
Guscott's tackle.

No, I wouldn't have minded.

I don't like you like this, Trace.

You remind me of me.

Test drive a new car, you said. Try out
a clutch, you said. Get your top down,

you said. Well, I did, and I feel great.

I thought you'd just have a bit of a
dance, bit of a snog. Get some colour

into your cheeks.

I did, with knobs on, and it has.

You were careful.

No, I banged my knee on his handbrake.
It's an offer.

I'm going to smack you in a minute.

Did you take precautions?

Did he wear a condom?

I'm not stupid, Sharon. I've dumped it
into Garfield's head enough.

Yeah, but the last time you were out on
the pool, Elvis was still alive.

And who decided free condoms in a packet
was enough?

When he got them out.

What is it?

When he gets out.

Me and Shell were just discussing our
campaign to get Chris out, weren't we,

Shell?

Amongst other things.

Oh, did you get any reply from any of
those letters?

Edwina Curry sent a signed photo and
Alan Titchmarsh had a cure for leaf rot.

Apart from that, not a sausage.

What now?

I'm thinking of starting a major
graffiti campaign.

Christopher Theodopoulopoulos is
innocent.

On big walls, obviously.

What you need is proper news coverage on
the telly.

Oh, yeah, they're all fighting over me.

Paxman, Dimbleby, Mrs. Martin.

Look, we get a few TV producers in the
restaurant.

I can sound them out if you like.

Oh, could you, Garth? That'd be great.

Yeah.

He's a good boy, your Garthy. Yeah,
which is why I don't want him to know

last night.

Oh, you couldn't bear it if he thought
that both his parents were plonkers, eh?

Oh, so you've never come home at dawn
with your hair all tangled and your

in your handbag?

I've never behaved like I pooed one
heat.

Much.

And if I did, I did it for me, not to
get back at someone else.

But don't worry, Trace. Your secret's
safer than me.

Mum's the tart.

I mean, word.

Lovely fruitcake.

Where did you buy it?

It's homemade.

Marcus says that as soon as he tried my
Victoria sandwich, he knew it was love.

Isn't that silly?

Mind -numbingly.

Do you bake, Sharon?

Do I bake?

Oh, yes. I'm always whipping up
delicious... baked things.

Apparently, Marcus's first wife was
useless in the kitchen. She said, if God

wanted women to cook, he wouldn't have
invented caterers.

Or frozen lasagna.

Where is Marcus anyway? I'm dying to
meet him. He should be here any time.

He said he had a business meeting, but I
think he's lying.

Ah, well, you had to find out he was a
devious little snake sooner or later.

Aren't they all?

No, it's my birthday tomorrow, and I
dropped a hint about what I wanted him

get me.

Jewellery, nice little sports car,
Fortnite in the Maldives.

Some really lovely table mats with cats
on them.

I love cats.

I just thought if I could speak to
Richard and Judy direct, they might warn

me as a feisty yet lovable cockney who
has single -handedly taken on the

judicial system.

Well, you know, the kind of old cobblers
they churn out.

Hello?

Hello?

Oh, that's charming, that is.

OJ's right up their street.

But not some poor sod a couple of miles
up the M11.

I smell conspiracy.

I smell cover -up.

I smell... onions.

You doing chips with that?

Well, I think it's great you're fighting
for your mighty Sharon.

I wish I felt like that about Dad.

But how can I respect a parent who tells
me to behave, do the right thing, and

then does the complete opposite?

Don't you reckon, Mum?

Do you want some more courgettes,
chopped garf?

Yeah, but it's not always that simple,
is it, garf?

I mean... Chris was usually a scumbag,
but this time he wasn't.

It's like someone else could be squeaky
clean for years and then all of a sudden

do the dirty.

Only they're too stupid to see it.

Don't you reckon, Trace? Yeah, but
they're not as bad as envious hypocrites

tell people to go for it and then slag
them off when they do.

Don't you reckon, Cheryl?

squeeze you in.

Yes, I'll have to dump Terry Wheat, but
I think I'll be able to manage that.

Okay, then.

Bye.

Oh, Garth, you little darling.

Here, Drake, can I borrow that white
blouse of yours? The one that makes me

like Ulrika Jolson.

I'm going to be on the telly, thanks to
Garthy. I mean, it's only cable, but

it's a start, isn't it? They're going to
send a car.

See? They cannot silence Sharon, the
truth, Theodopolopoulos.

Justice is on trial.

Blimey, that was quick. I was going to
shave my legs.

Trace! Trace, it's for you!

Hello,

Tracey.

Hello.

Do you know, all the way here, I kept
thinking, what if this is a really,

bad idea, Daphne?

I'm just surprised, that's all.

What, that I'm even more gorgeous in
daylight?

Love to.

Milk, no sugar. Thank you for asking.

So how did you find me?

You left the minicab number on the
table. I asked where they'd dropped you

They'll have to tell you.

They'll tell you anything for two cans
of special brew and a pack of fags.

So why are you here?

You dropped your lottery ticket on the
bedroom floor.

I was worried that it couldn't be you
without it.

It's three weeks old.

So? I can't be after your millions.

Joe. You remember my name?

That's something, I suppose.

Of course I do. What did you take me
for?

Second thought, she better not answer
that.

Oh, there's Marcus.

Now, not a word about the table, Matt.

I'm sure we have far more interesting
topics to cover. I feel we have a lot in

common.

There's my little cuddle pumpkin.

In here.

Cheryl's come for tea.

I'll make some fresh tea while you get
acquainted with Cheryl.

Have some fruitcake, Marcus.

Absolutely delicious.

Homemade.

So, you've been together for three
years.

Can't have been lust at first sight, not
with those teeth of hers.

She must have missed you when you were
away on all those interminable business

trips to New York, Hong Kong, Chegwell.

That vein started twitching in your
forehead again.

You're going to spoil everything, aren't
you?

You dare to accuse me of adultery and
deceit? What about handcuffing my

partner to our living room door?

What was he doing?

Looking for a woodworm?

You've been here with her, playing
cardigan man.

I'm not playing at anything.

You'll be telling me next door, happy,
with your semi -detached life and your

homemade fruitcake and your teak veneer
hostess trolley.

I am happy, completely and utterly.

Geraldine will give up her life for me.

You wouldn't even give up your sunbed.

What can I tell you?

What is my happiness to you?

Nothing that you can't ruin with a well
-aimed stiletto right through here.

Well, go on. Go on, go on.

Have your fun. Get your kicks.

Tell her everything.

She was nearly ready.

Well?

What are you waiting for?

I seem to have a migraine. Could you
tell Geraldine I had to go?

I'm sure you can sound convincing. God
knows you're a fool to about everything

else.

You're going.

Do you think if I bake fruitcake, we
might still be together?

Goodbye then, Marcus.

Have a nice life.

Marcus!

I seem to have mislaid my keys.

To my house in Chigwell.

Where can they possibly have got to?

If you'd bought me table mats, I'd have
divorced you years ago.

What's the big deal?

We saw each other, we fancied each
other, we clicked.

Is that what they call it these days?

It's just we did everything in the wrong
order. I mean, I know what colour

knickers you wear, but, well... Everyone
at the rugby club knows what colour

knickers you wear.

I don't know how you rate Simply Red or
salt and vinegar crisps or what you have

for breakfast.

Well, I wouldn't mind finding out.

We could just meet up and, you know,
click again.

Is that what you want?

Don't you?

Look, I really want to see you again,
but... Well, that's settled then. But

don't come here anymore. It's a bit
awkward. Give us your phone number and

come to your place, all right?

Just like that?

I knew you'd understand.

I don't. Of course you do.

It's just sex, isn't it? No more, no
less.

A click's just a click.

Joe, this is my Garth.

Garth, this is Joe.

He's, um... He's just going.

He got the wrong end of the stick.

Who was that?

No one.

Don't tell me. Dad owes him money and
he's putting the squeeze on you.

It's got nothing to do with your dad.

Well, in a roundabout, indirect kind of
way, I suppose it has.

But this is one thing I can't really
blame your dad for.

Not really.

Not if I'm honest.

Not in my art of arts.

Would you like me to repeat the
question?

It's just someone I met and we, um,
clicked.

That's still, as long as you didn't
sleep with him. Why shouldn't I?

Well, not that I'm saying I did, but, I
mean, I've got needs like anyone else.

Do you want to talk about it?

I feel funny. You're my son.

Oh, and I don't.

But what am I going to do, Garth? It
hurts so much.

Yeah, me too.

I trusted your dad. He was going to
serve his time, come home, and we were

to live happily ever after.

When does the pain go away?

I don't know.

I do know one thing.

Dad stabbed us in the back, right?

Right. So we can't just go around
pretending nothing happened.

We need time to heal.

We're walking wounded.

You've been watching Oprah and all,
haven't you?

Whatever you do is fine with me, Mum.

I love you, Mummy. I love you, Jim Barb.

Up yours, we're bonding.

Well, how do I look?

Very old, Rika.

Oh, God, Trace, they're here.

Trace, they can't do it.

I've got stage fright.

Trace, I can't breathe.

I can't breathe, Trace. It's all right.

It's all right. I'm coming with you.

Don't forget to set the video, Garth.

And she's here to tell us all about her
double tragedy.

Sharon B .L. Popalot.

Welcome to Active TV, London's only news
and chocolate snooker channel.

Hello, Brittany.

Now, you have a very painful story to
tell us, haven't you? About your

B .L. Popalot. And the tone it has taken
on you.

That's right, Brittany.

My husband, Chris, has been the victim
of a cruel miscarriage of justice. And

how do you feel?

Betrayed by the system.

He's in prison for a crime he did not
commit. Has the stress affected your

weight? It must have.

A criminal's wife and fat.

Now, what do these two tragedies do you
find the hardest to deal with?

But he's innocent.

That's why I'm here.

Thank you. Shut up.

Have you ever wondered what show -off
strippers do on their day off?

Active TV at the lowdown on the five -a
-side footy for the girls who get their

kit off. But I haven't had a chance to
tell people how they can get in touch

with me if they want to support my
campaign.

You can fax me on...

Me, two cameramen and a black
insecurity.

But you were waving that fire
extinguisher.

My mum chomped and I blew it.

I assaulted a man dressed as a dog on
live TV.

What's so funny?

I'm back.

I mean, what's Chris going to think? I'm
back home, Marcus, and I came to an

agreement. He's going to think I've let
him down.

I'm living next door again.

It'll be your care enough to buy a six
-foot poodle for him. Welcome home,

Dorian. I thought you were terrific.

There's about ten faxes coming through.
That was probably the entire audience.

Thank you, Dorian. What'd they say?
What'd they say?

You are the anchor in our otherwise
choppy sea, Dorian.

Yeah? This one says, good for you,
Sharon.

For standing by my man?

No, congratulating you for nutting
Headline Hound. They loved you.

Oh, so much for them identifying with my
quest for justice.

This one says he'll give you a thousand
pound donation if you duff up Mr Blobby.

He's on.

Or two thousand if you duff up Noel
Edmonds.

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