Original subtitles

♪ When I was young, younger than before ♪

♪ I never saw the truth hanging from the door ♪

♪ And now I'm older, see it face to face ♪

♪ And now I'm older got to get up, clean the place ♪

Lots of messages coming in on today's hot topic--

Linda's Ledgers.

Her list of every single chore she's done

and how long it took her

that came up at yesterday's trial.

What did it make you feel?

Did it make you think about who does what in your home?

Are you someone who's angry about

all the time you've spent doing it all?

Or-- are you someone who enjoys it?

Is the distribution of household labour

a bone of contention in your home?

Does the government need to get involved?

Would you, the British taxpayer,

be happy to pay domestic benefit

to the person doing it all...

Late for your first shift. Not a good start, town mouse.

Mm. It seems our Eel Queen continues to cause mayhem.

I've told you, it's nothing to do with me.

Is that really the most humane way of killing them?

Calling you the Mick Lynch of Dusting, town mouse.

Yeah. Riling the womenfolk right up, you are.

Well, they wouldn't even know about it

if you hadn't put me on trial.

No, I refuse to be some poster girl

for some kind of anti-housework cult.

Ah, the reluctant messiah.

Now, they're always the best leaders, right?

- Mm-hmm. - Yeah.

Whew!

- Hot flash? - Yes. It's the stress.

Have you not got your menopause magnet

down your pants today, then, now?

No, I can't wear it in here

because of all the pots and pans and knives.

Radio Caller: Didn't know how to use the washing machine,

doesn't understand what a toilet brush is for.

I've had enough.

Anyway, so I says to our John that either I start getting

paid for doing everything, or I ain't doing it no more.

And he says we're a team

and that his job is fitting windows,

and that my job is doing all the house and the kids stuff,

which made my blood boil because I'm a barrister

and earn much more than him.

So I says to him,

"Why don't you add up how much it would cost you

to pay all these different professionals to do

all the bollocks I do for you and come back with a figure?"

So he comes back with a figure, and no amount of window fitting

is gonna cover it, Joy.

So we comes to an agreement, which is him doing his fucking bit.

And how's that working out?

Radio Caller: Well, it ain't, is it?

'Cos he cleaned the toilet then cleaned the cabinet mirror after

with the same cloth he used to clean the toilet with.

So the mirror was a smeary mess of wee and pubes,

which I then had to clean again and that made me late for court,

and I got a big murder case on.

So what's the solution, Beth?

I don't fucking know, Joy.

All I know is that I'm now writing everything down

in my own Linda's Ledger.

Well, keep us posted, Beth. Dave is on line three.

- Shoot, Dave. - You women just want us

men castrated in public, don't ya?

You think that would be a good idea.

You can't just keep calling in and saying that, Dave.

Give my love to Cheryl. Kev is on line four.

Come on, Kev. Don't let me down.

Divvy up household chores equally between men and women.

Less time women spend doing chores,

more time they'll have doing their proper jobs,

and that will boost the boost the economy.

Ooh! Good call, Kev.

So, are you gonna pull your socks up?

Nah.

Right. Give my love to Susie.

Well, that's it for today.

Until tomorrow... Je suis Linda.

We're women, Linda. This is what we do.

It's what we've always done.

What makes you so bloody special? Nothing, that's what.

So stop whingeing and moaning about being a woman and come home!

Go-o-o-o-od morning, Forest of Dean!

News just in.

The new road and development

has been halted indefinitely due to lack of funds.

That is a travesty! An absolute travesty!

My starlings lost their home. They've got nothing. Nothing!

Not only have I lost my beloved tree,

I've also lost my most prized possession...

Father Watkins' bible--

Malleus Maleficarum.

Whoever you are, you have until midday tomorrow to return it.

His daughters rejected it, mocked his nightly readings,

and then began their witches' supper.

Shame on them!

Which brings me round to today's subject--

Ungrateful women.

First they hijack our Eel Festival.

Now they want a medal for doing the bloody ironing.

Our boys on the front line do their own ironing

and then kill people.

Do they get a medal for it?

I mean, yeah, they do, but-- not for the ironing.

That's my point.

Makes one wonder, doesn't it, gentlemen,

with the recent eel endangerment hot on the heels

of the womanised Eel Festival and Linda's Ledgers.

I also hear that two of the mother tree's tree fellers

haven't been able to achieve an erection since.

Coincidence or a curse?

All this recent phallic-themed endangerment

is giving me the willies.

So lock up your cucumbers and your stinkhorns

before they droop, too.

Back after this.

I'm, uh... I'm going to Turkey tomorrow.

Package holiday with the kids?

No. Turkish hair transplant.

Turkey hair.

- Don't they have feathers? - Turkish.

Turkish hair.

What is Turkish hair again?

Oh, I've heard of a Turkish bath.

- Turkish delight. - Is it like regular hair

but with a light dusting of icing sugar?

Lads, lads, lads, it's where I'm going to get it done.

Turkey is the, uh, cosmetic surgery Mecca.

You know, bums, boobs, faces, teeth, hair transplants.

Penis enlargements.

- Just hair, is it, Steve? - That's right.

The rest of me is unimprovable.

How's Lin's treatment going, Steve?

- What treatment? - Her cancer treatment.

She hasn't got cancer, Jerry.

You said she had cancer.

Jerry, fuck's sake, man,

have you thought all this time Lin had cancer?

He made it all up because he felt humiliated by her leaving.

Come on, Jer.

So she hasn't got cancer?

But me and the kids ran a half marathon for her.

Squeezed water out of cloth. 30 seconds.

Pig Man's cloth brings all the girls to the yard.

I love housework. I used to do everything.

And would your ex-wife agree?

Oh, 100%. She did fuck all.

Oh. Well done, you.

I'm just saying I did my bit.

Ohh!

I've really annoyed myself

thinking more of you for doing the housework,

and I wouldn't have thought that if you were a woman.

We make such a fuss of guys for doing, like, the bare minimum.

"Dave's such an incredible father!

He did the school run last week."

"[ Gasps ] Bob did the kids' tea last Thursday.

Used every pot in the house and didn't wash up,

but he did the tea."

"Love Bob. He's such a ledge."

"Oh! Did you hear? Adam changed Tilly's nappy.

Give him the Nobel Prize!"

Special recipe just for you.

Ooh!

Rose coffee.

Well, it's not that bad, is it?

You said you love the smell of roses.

No, I do, I do. Thank you.

My mum had this...

She wore this rose talc,

and, er, it would always be all over the bathroom floor.

Do you ever feel like you're just pretending?

- How do you mean? - To be happy.

Being here is like the first time, I think in my whole life,

I've ever felt like I belonged somewhere.

Every family photo, I looked like just some random kid

that had just wandered into shot.

But it's not just the people, though.

It's the place. I feel really rooted here.

Follow the mushrooms, Linda.

The mushrooms?

They're what led me here. I'm sure of it.

Can we have a word about Linda's Ledgers, please, Linda?

How long have you been there for?

It's just, does...

...does sex...

...go in the chore ledger, Linda?

Sorry, does-- does what go in the chore ledger?

Sex. Sex.

And not just the main act, neither.

What about the hand jobs

and the mouth jobs and the bum jobs?

I can't answer that for you, Judith.

You-- Only you can answer that.

Did you put all your hand jobs and mouth jobs and bum jobs

in your Linda's Ledger, Linda?

I-I don't talk about my private life.

I don't-- I don't know what the chore ledger rules are.

Just if-- just if it felt like a chore, then I-- then I put it in.

Thank you.

Thank you, Linda.

I shall amend my Janet's Linda's Ledger accordingly,

and I'll pass that on to the others.

It's not Janet's Linda's Ledger. It's just...

And I shall amend my Judith's Linda's Ledger too.

No, it's just Judith's ledger.

It's not Judith's Linda's Ledger.

See? I told you.

If it feels like a chore, then it goes in.

That's the rule.

- If it... - If it...

- ...feels like a chore... - ...feels like a chore...

...then it goes in.

- ...then it goes in. - That's the rule.

- That's the rule. - Thank you, Linda.

- Thank you, Linda. - We'll see the girls immediately.

- We'll see the girls. - But there aren't any rules.

That-- that's not what I was saying.

Can I backdate my Sarah's Linda's Ledger, Linda?

Is "smiling at" a chore, Linda?

Do we put that down in my June's Linda's Ledger?

How do we start taking the time back, Linda?

Do we put double time down if we do two chores at once

or put them in separately, Linda?

I often multitask, like most women.

An hand job whilst ironing?

- Dusting and stripping? - I don't know!

Does enthusiastically listening to him talking about himself

- all the time go in, Linda? - I don't-- uh-oh.

Oi!

We're all waiting here.

What does our sign say, Linda?

"Serving eels and mash to men."

Yeah, exactly. Men come here to get away from their women.

It's not where wives come to get hand job and housework advice.

Get rid of them, Linda. Or we'll get rid of you.

Sorry, is that supposed to be the eel speaking?

- 'Cos I can see your lips move. - Get rid!

It's not my fault! I don't know why they're here!

Is listening to his work stories over and over a chore?

- I don't know! - What about laughing at their jokes?

How much should we charge for that, Linda?

And Judith told us that hand jobs, mouth jobs, and bum jobs

are all charged differently.

- Sort it, Linda! - Yeah, Linda.

It's your final warning.

- Move! Move! - Move! Move!

I don't know! I don't know!

Aaah!

Women, please! Go home!

Leave me out of your bum jobs!

Oh, hello, Martin.

Well, your mum's not dead yet, if that's why you're ringing.

You never wanted kids.

Oh.

Eczema?

- Lice. - Oh, God!

Get some shampoo!

- No, I like the company. - Eh?

Well, it's a lonely old world out there, Linda.

S-Sorry?

You're actually hosting lice to make you feel less alone?

Yeah, well, they remind me that I've got feelings.

Itchiness isn't a feeling.

It's a symptom, Tony, of having your blood sucked.

Well, it's more than a lot of men my age are getting.

Some of these poor bastards round here

ain't even getting sucked by lice.

Scratching isn't a substitute for intimacy.

Well, then you're obviously not doing it properly.

Tone. Come on.

I've got friends in codependent relationships.

But this?

They're literally feeding off you, Tone.

You're their literal life source.

Yeah, it's nice to be needed, isn't it?

We all need a purpose in life, Linda.

Oh!

Siobhain, what the f--

You've come in the Corsa. Why are you wearing Steve's leathers?

I'm taking some time back for myself, Linda.

Where's the toilet? I'm not shitting in a bush.

Not with my guts.

Oh...

♪ Oh, Sally, my dear, it's you I'd be kissing ♪

♪ She smiled and replied ♪

♪ "You don't know what you're missing" ♪

♪ Oh, Sally, my dear, I wish I could wed you ♪

♪ Oh, Sally, my dear, I wish I could bed you ♪