Original subtitles

Nine.

I was led to believe you opened at 9.00 sharp.

And I was led to believe you've been dead 50 years.

I don't understand.

No, neither do I. My name's...Hilliard.

The employment agency sent me over

for the assistant position. Sorry. That position has been filled. No, it isn't. Yes, it is.

It can't be. According to employment agency parlance, you're a DP5.

Difficult person, fifth level. You have an asterisk beside your name.

I'm going to boot your asterisk out that door in three seconds. Are you firing me?

Firing you? I've not even hired you. I'm not going to hire you.

It's because I'm short, isn't it? It's because you're dressed as Hitler.

Ah, there's a dress code? Yes. I'm afraid there is.

And usually tongue studs, hot pants and Third Reich uniforms

are generally considered inappropriate for a dental surgery.

No, I understand. Do you have casual dress Fridays? What?

No, we have an exit door. So goodbye!

You can still make that plane for Paraguay.

What if I remove the hat? What if you removed yourself?

The jackboots? I just wear them for height. It's not the boots or the hat, it's the totality - it's you!

Because I'm short! You shall hear from my solicitor.

Fascist!

Midget!

Urgh! Don't even tell me what it is.

It's a bouillabaisse casserole ragout melange. To make your French exchange friend feel at home.

She's not a friend, she's my ticket to Paris. So you better dump that before you scare her off.

She could be my friend... And maybe so much more - if she's fit.

No chance. Sylvie's used to French guys. They're much more sophisticated.

I'm "sofiscated". God, that's hot. What is it?

Giant snails. Crunchy!

Gross! You're supposed to take them out of their shells first.

No, Michael. When you cook them whole, the boiling liquid makes the shells just come away.

Aren't you thinking of tomatoes?

You know, Sylvie's coming over to learn about English culture, isn't she?

So she obviously won't want to eat the same food her own mother makes.

And she obviously won't get it here. Got any more of that? Could do with a toothpick, maybe.

No. Finish cleaning your room, so Michael can sleep in there and Sylvie can sleep in his room.

My room? Sylvie can stay in my room.

We can't expect Sylvie to stay in your room. Oh, we can!

I'm not sleeping in that pit. It's barbaric, like being punished for a murder I didn't commit.

It's all right, Mikey, take my room. I don't need it any more. I'm part of a science experiment.

That explains it. No, I volunteered for a sleep deprivation project from someone at Kings.

Every day I don't sleep, they pay me £5. If I don't sleep for a year I'll have made £1,825.

That's ridiculous!

After three nights, you start seeing giant cockroaches crawling all over you.

In your room, that happens after three minutes.

Janey, you better go to the airport. Stupid Brian's here.

I thought you were going to ring first. I did. On the doorbell.

Mmm, that smells nice, Mrs G!

Nick, get cleaning now. Love to, but I've got to take a nap.

I thought you were going without sleep? Damn!

Janey, go. I don't want to keep her waiting at the airport.

Don't flap. It's not about Sylvie - it's about me.

She spends time here, I spend time in Paris and get to meet guys. Wicked. Can I come?

Let's go. What? To Paris? To pick up Sylvie. Sylvie?

No, er, it's Brian, actually.

Sylvie's going to stay here and we're going to Paris to meet guys... Ah...

Go away.

Hello! Hello. How are you?

Good. Yep. I had a crappy day. Really? So did I. Mmm...

Well, that's that over with. What's going on?

Sylvie's coming tonight. Janey's French exchange.

Oh, right. The Eurojaney! Good God, two teenage girls in the same house.

It'll be fun. Yeah, for Sylvie's parents.

Ben, help me get things ready.

Burn the house down and leave? Just leave me here, Susan.

I want to sit down, relax and unwind. You're right, you're right.

OK, you've had your sit-down - now come on, chop-chop.

When we've finished cleaning, I've arranged some French entertainment.

Oh, baby, yeah!

Down, boy.

I've rented a film to put us in the right mood for French visitors...

Last Tango In Paris? Gigi.

Oh, no! Not bloody Gigi again?

Yes, bloody Gigi again! It's about a young French woman.

So's Emmanuelle, but we're not watching that.

CHEERY MUSIC FROM "Gigi"

Better informed now about the daily struggle

of youth in the decaying urban wastelands of 21st-century France?

Shut up. It's timeless. It's endless. The songs are good.

I Remember It Well? I remember it all too bloody well after 22 times.

It's about dirty old men anyway...

How dare you talk about Maurice Chevalier like that? What? Thank Heavens For Little Girls!

Ben, you're missing the point. It's about life's transitions.

I don't like life's transitions. In my case, they only transit from bad to worse.

I want my life to stay at bad for a while.

Maybe you're uncomfortable with little girls getting bigger every day.

No, only the song. Then, you're just being difficult.

I'm being difficult? Not only do you insist on me watching this drivel,

but you want me to enjoy it. You're a pleasure fascist.

Is it unreasonable to want to share my favourite film with you?

Yes. No, it isn't. You have to like it. I don't like any of your favourite films.

You said you liked The Enigma Of Kaspar Hauser.

That was our first date. That's before I knew you were easy.

In other words, our whole marriage has been a sham?

No, not the whole marriage, just the crappy film part. And the bit about wanting kids.

You don't even try to be compatible any more.

Neither do you. I say I like football.

You do not - you say you hate it.

Well, nobody likes football. People just pretend that they do.

What - 100 million people in the stands, fibbing,

all of them doing the Mexican fib?

DOOR CLOSES They're here - pretend we're happy.

It's easier to pretend I like Gigi. Shh!

Mum, Dad, this is Sylvie. Sylvie, these are the parents. Enchantee.

Hello. Hello.

Thank you for having me. And this is Michael.

Je suis enchante de faire votre connaissance, Sylvie.

Moi aussi.

And I am Nico Jean Paul Luc Pierre Harper.

I do not speak English too good.

It's all right - you'll fit in fine around here.

And where's my kiss?

You must be starving. I'll whip up some good old English food.

It's OK. Brian took us to eat. You made that up, didn't you?

Oh, he's very sweet. French boys don't do that.

We stopped for some authentic French food on the way home.

Yes, the shake and the Big Mac. OK.

OK, but you don't know what you're missing. Yeah, WE do!

Welcome to the pleasuredome.

You know, you never hang out in here any more.

I'm not off the antibiotics yet.

Oh! OK, here are some of your essentials.

Here's the fire extinguisher - very important.

Here's a towel.

Oh, and if you wake up in the night and the bed seems to be spinning, don't worry, you're just drunk.

I thought you were supposed to tidy up. That didn't need doing.

Right now - pay attention.

There's a lot of valuables in here, so be careful. Is this a bird's nest? I said be careful!

Now, in case of emergencies, use the window...

or the saucepan under the bed.

What else? Oh, yeah. This is very, very important.

Never, ever open this wardrobe.

Why not? I can't remember. But I opened it once years ago and it was not pleasant.

Well, goodbye, old chum. It was nice knowing you.

Look, Nick, if you like your room that much... Not the room, I was talking to you.

She's lovely, isn't she? Who?

Who? I obviously don't mean Janey. Sylvie, of course.

She smiles a lot, says little.

Maybe we should make her a permanent exchange.

She's very pretty. Really? I hadn't really noticed.

Maurice Chevalier would have noticed.

Maybe. But I'm not an old lech...

Now, let me read.

# For leetle girls get bigger every day... #

Well, grow up, then.

I'm annoying you, aren't I? I mean, more than I'm trying to.

Maybe we're not compatible. I want to read, you want me to thump you.

Fine, you're right, we have nothing in common.

Yes, we do!

Unless you want to tell me he's the love child of the fling you had with the village idiot.

This staying awake is really tiring.

It's only been ten hours. What are you doing, anyway?

I'm altering my circadian rhythm. What? ..He's what? The experiment.

I'm resetting my body clock so it runs indefinitely. Just think how much more I can get done.

You don't do anything. I didn't have enough time before.

Oh, look another one! When are we going to get that turnstile put in?

I'm not going back in there. I can't sleep in that hellhole.

There's food all over the floor and I saw something move.

Not mice? No, that's the food.

Mmm, I adore English food. It is called what?

Tandoori chicken masala - takeaway.

English is a musical language, no?

Yeah. Takeaway's my favourite lyric.

You're so funny. Really?

"Aperitif?" "No, thanks, I've got my own."

I love English men. Ah. I'm not really French, you know.

I'm sorry, I don't understand. No, no-one else does either!

Oh, I forget your gift, Mrs Harper.

I got this for you in Harrods.

For having me.

But this is exquisite. You really shouldn't have.

Merci beaucoup.

Puke time. Dad, can I have a word?

"No"? I haven't said anything yet. Let's keep it that way, shall we?

It's not about money. Not about money!

Come on, Michael, dishes.

- Oh, no, I'll do it. - And I'll help. Naturellement.

Naturellement!

Come on, Dad, you must have noticed. Well, she is a bit...tactile.

No, she's a crawler. I don't trust her. Look, you've just met her.

What would you think if I bought Mum an expensive present?

That you're up to something. There you are. That was over the top. A chocolate orange would do.

I'd like a chocolate orange.

She's just sucking up to my family, she's trying to steal you all away from me.

That's because she doesn't know us.

LAUGHTER FROM KITCHEN

Why don't you go and join in the fun and do the washing-up?

I'm fed-up, not completely insane. It could set a dangerous precedent.

Oh, my God...!

Pip-pip, old bean!

I'll take my tea on the verandah.

She wants English, she'll get English.

I think the sleep deprivation's kicked in. How can you tell?

Would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the good-looking one.

Sod off! Toodle-oo!

So, Pater, you old cove...

Yes, Nicholas, you young wazzock.

D'you think this'll do the trick?

Mmm, it got rid of Janey. No, to impress Sylvie.

I think she prefers the mature sort of male.

Oh. I know who you mean.

What - you've noticed? Yeah, Michael.

But it's not over until it's over.

I think you've either got it or you ain't...

and you ain't. And that better be tobacco you're smoking.

What ho, Sylvie. What?

It's an English greeting.

I'm English, you know.

All over.

I don't understand.

You don't have to.

Take a pew, old girl. I'm just enjoying my pipe.

Is Michael OK? He soon settled in.

Once I'd prised his fingers off the doorframe.

Janey's not too keen on Sylvie, is she?

Mmm, seems that way.

Anyway - 12 more days to go. Wake me up when it's over.

I want this to work. I want Nick to work, but I don't obsess about it.

Look, if Janey improves her French, she's a dead cert for university.

She doesn't like Sylvie. Tomorrow you can take them out together so they can bond.

I know, you do it. You've got Saturday off. I haven't. What could be better?

Having my genitals fed slowly through a mangle.

Thanks. I was wondering what to do for your birthday.

Susan, I, er...

I don't think it would be a good idea for me to spend more than the minimum amount of time with Sylvie

and, er, I just don't think you ought to put me in that position.

Why not? Well, it's a bit painful for me, Susan, and it must be for you too,

but it's quite obvious that, er...

Sylvie's got a huge crush on me.

Well, I'm glad you can laugh.

I'm glad you can make me laugh.

Maybe we're compatible after all. I wasn't expecting this response.

Sorry, it's the best I can do. That is so hilarious.

Is it? Is it hilarious that I'm still considered attractive?

Not that I want teenage girls to find me attractive, of course...

I think you've watched Gigi once too often.

Yeah, 22 times too bloody often! Whose fault is that?

I thought you didn't like dirty old men. I don't. But obviously Sylvie does...

No...

no.

You know what this reminds me of? When you thought your dental assistant had the hots for you.

Thought?! She only gave me long sultry looks...

She had a lazy eye. Yeah.

You think I'm being ridiculous, don't you? I do. I'm sorry.

No, it's good.

I'm pleased because I just want to be proved wrong about this.

Look, it's late. You're overtired.

I'll take them on my National Gallery tour.

You can stay here - unmolested.

I'm not against all molestation, you know, under the right circumstances.

Ooh, Monsieur! You are so very naughty!

That's not funny, Susan.

Urgh! God! He's turned into Nick...!

Michael, what happened in there?

No-one must ever know.

Two Nicks... Scary.

It's OK - don't panic. Maybe one will rise up and destroy the other.

I must see you. What?

Alone. When your wife is not there. Morning.

What happened to your face? Mmm? Oh, that? Pipe accident.

Occupational hazard of being an Englishman.

I can't see you alone. But you must. Later.

Hello again. Please may I phone to Paris?

- Of course. Over there. - Thank you.

Sylvie put me out last night.

You went into her room? I was on fire. That's no excuse.

She's our guest. Now stop it.

Allo, oui. C'est moi... Ca va. Quoi? Oui.

Ah, si, si... Oui, oui... Il est mignon... Oui!

Filet mignon? I knew it. She's missing French food.

No, Mum. She said, "Il est mignon", meaning, "He's cute."

She liked the National Gallery because it was close to the Virgin Megastore,

and the Tower of London because it was near McDonalds. Janey didn't like anything, especially Sylvie.

Tomorrow it's your turn. No, tomorrow's Sunday and, er... And you're not working.

What could be better? Susan, look, do I have to humiliate myself further?

Fun though that always is, no.

I'm not falling for any more Lolita nonsense.

It's just an excuse for shirking your parental duties.

I wish it was, but we can't ignore this.

The evidence is there. What evidence? You heard her say someone was "mignon".

It's not you - rest assured.

Today, I managed to take Sylvie all over Chelsea without her accosting a single pensioner.

Susan, would you just listen to me?

Look, she laughs at all my jokes. She doesn't speak English.

Susan, stop it. I mean, I can't help it, OK?

Humour is a known aphrodisiac. Women go weak over funny men.

That's funny ha-ha, not funny strange.

Susan, er...

listen...

Sylvie wants to have sex with me.

Why?

I just can't talk to you any more. I'm sorry.

DOOR OPENS

Night, Dad. Night, Mike.

Michael has just gone into your room without a gun held to his head.

Must have found my stash of videos.

Oh! Dad, can we have a talk?

You know, a real talk.

Man to man, father to son...

What - Earth to Pluto? Yeah, that kind of thing.

Yeah, yeah, go on.

You know Sylvie?

Sylvie? Oh, no, not really. Vaguely. I've noticed something about her.

Have you? Oh, I haven't noticed anything...

It's not really working out, is it - me and her?

You and her? No, no, Nick, it's not working out.

Do you think it's because I don't sleep and roam from room to room?

Maybe she thinks I'm one of the undead. Don't we all?

Well, maybe there are other reasons too, Nick,

indefinable reasons which says nobody's to blame, you know.

Ah, I think I can hear you. This is a good time. No?

Yes. You're right - no.

Oh, please...

You?!

So this is the indefinable reason?

No, Nick, it isn't.

Oh, well! Dad, you old dark horse!

No, It's not like that... Ah, well, the better man won.

OK, I am the better man, but I haven't won anything.

I won't tell the old girl. That's not very loyal to your mother. Look who's talking!

Mr Harper...

Er, look, Nick, this isn't what it looks like, OK?

It's not what it looks like. I'm going in there to sort things out.

Yeah, sure you are.

Go on - this might be your last chance. At sorting things out?

If you like.

Hi... Come in.

I can't. Why?

I'm stuck. Stuck? I don't understand.

No, neither do I. But there you are...

I'll be quick. I promise. Oh, God, will you?

I want to show you something...

Do you mind if I look from here? I've got a little circulation problem.

I can always keep one leg on the landing. It's airier out here.

One leg is 'airier than the other one?

Poor you. Anyway...

..you like?

Oh, my, yeah...

No, no, look... I like, yes, I like, but...

What about your wife? No, she will not like this, not one bit.

Look, Sylvie... Sylvie...

You're 17 and...I'm not.

So?

Look, Sylvie, I have a wife...

a very powerful wife...

and, er...

I love her and she loves me and, er, she trusts me...

Yes. And she would look pretty in this, no?

You bought this for Susan? Yes, for Mrs Harper, of course.

Oh!

Ben, you did not think...?

No, no. I didn't think...

I'm...no...

I'm sorry, so sorry. I'm sorry...

But you are like 73 years old...!

Yes...

Yes, that's right, yeah.

Gonna have to do a bit of work on those numbers, I think.

You are sad now? No, I'm really relieved.

Very relieved.

OK. No offence... No offence. OK, fine, thanks.

OK...

Sylvie...? Yes?

When you... when you were on the phone and you said someone was mignon...

Mignon? Ah - I remember, mignon! Don't worry - it was not you!

Phew!

It's obvious Sylvie thinks I've got a really fantastic family.

And that upsets you? Well, it makes me think I must have missed something all these years... Aw!

Because I think you're all such a bunch of complete losers!

It's late. I'm tired. Out!

Want a cup of tea?

That'll be nice. Will you make me one too?

Oh, Ben, have you seen the lovely negligee Sylvie got me?

Oh, but you have, haven't you? Do you think it suits me, Ben?

Pulled any fit young girlies lately, Dad?

Is there no end to my humiliation? Don't be silly. It's way too soon.

OK, OK. Who's going to have the next dig? Me. Mignon!

What's everyone laughing at? They're laughing at me.

Oh, right. I get it.

Hello, Brian.

Hi...

Who do you think you're looking at?

Il est mine, you two-faced tart! Girl fight!

Girl chase! Yeah! Girl chase! Girl chase!

What a dead loss this fortnight's been.

The two of them fought the whole time,

I don't think Sylvie's English improved

and now we're not even going to get rid of Janey for two weeks in Paris.

Ah, bless him. He's chasing cats again.

I wonder what he's dreaming about.

Girl fight!

Merde! Qu'est-ce que tu fais la, cretin?

Vous m'emmerdez tous, vous etes des salauds et des cochons!

At least she's improved her French.

Translation, Michael. Believe me, Dad, you don't want to know!