Original subtitles

Where's the wife-to-be George?

Oh, Winky called time on all joint public appearances.

Bit of a blow but direct order from Agnes, apparently. Tricky.

I'm sure this dartboard's not regulation height.

George, you sit this side so that the darts hit you and not me.

I'm trying to nail down this date for after half-term.

Winky is not unamenable in theory. It's delicate.

Hold on. Where's Auntie? What?

My hat - Auntie Brown.

How am I supposed to know you call it that?

Oh, here it is.

Right, that's it!

Was it really necessary to hang the dartboard directly above our heads? It was... sadly.

It's win-win, you see.

Even if we miss, we might still hit the dartboard.

You're the darkness, Cecil Mowbray. You're every mother's nightmare.

Oh, let's just go. You are ruining the game.

You. Hello?

Do you want to be my boyfriend? Yes.

Right then. Come for lunch at my mum's house tomorrow.

I live at 28 The Green.

Yep.

All right. See you tomorrow then. Bye.

Bye. Calm down, Bert.

I'm not angry. I just feel sorry for her.

She didn't even see me, poor girl.

How do you know she didn't see you?

No offence, but you don't ask you out on a date if me and...

if I'm sitting here. I wouldn't worry too much, Bert.

Presumably it's something along the lines of "I go for lunch, I'm hit in the face with a brick."

Is it definitely a trick? Maybe there's something about you she finds attractive.

Oh, yeah, maybe his face!

Let me tell you something, George. Life is not a fruit tree owned by you.

It is a dead tree owned by no-one.

Whatever her plan is, it shan't be a happy one for me.

Can't work out if I'm hungry or not.

I'll prepare you something light? Indeed.

Oh, now then. Hold on, everybody.

I left a piece of writing out on this table and now it's gone.

What sort of piece of writing?

Doesn't really... It was a poem.

Oh, dear!

Only seconds remaining until something pretty dreadful comes to light.

What? What do you know? All right. Picture the scene. Me.

The outhouse, after lunch and - not a criticism -

we've run out of toilet paper.

So I waddle in here very much in a manner unbefitting a gentleman,

and take the first useless bit of paper I find.

Bert... Poorly phrased, that was poorly phrased.

I find what I think is quite a bad poem.

Did you use the poem I wrote to Winky as toilet paper?

Oh, boy, George. I do walk the line, don't I?

I know how to walk it.

Bert! I'm not all right about this.

I agree George. It's detestable behaviour.

Redeemed in this case by your unthinking,

across-the-board forgiveness, on which I constantly depend.

Well, don't just assume that I forgive you, Bert.

I want you to leave.

But George. It's me.

It's Bert.

I know it's you, Bert. I've had enough of you. What?

I want you out. I want you to stop lving here. I am enjoying this, George.

Might have run its course unless you actually want me outside the house. I do want you outside the house.

Pushing the envelope, eh? All right. Out I go.

And curtain. Back in I come. Go away.

This isn't as good, George. Don't like to have to ask,

but, can I come back into my house now, please?

This isn't your house, it's my house.

You were a guest, and you've outstayed your welcome.

George? Come on. George?

Is that you, Auntie? Lovers' tiff, is it?

Oh, evening all. George. The noise rota's here!

Already? We thought we'd start playing earlier tonight.

Make sure there's constant noise from dusk till dawn.

How loud were we last night? We keep you awake?

Oh, yes. You're doing an excellent job. Who's on trumpet?

That was me. Oh, you're really talking my language, honey.

Best performance this week.

And I don't believe I identified an accordion in last night's

melange, which means you must be new.

Yes, this is Sylvie. She's a complete beginner, which, in this case, is an advantage.

Take it away, Sylvie.

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God.

Erm, are you all right?

I'm fine. It's just suddenly seeing you there. The reality of it.

I do still want to go through with it.

Um, good.

I suppose you'd better come in, then.

This is surreal.

I got you these.

Put... the flowers... in... the damn bin.

Stand there.

Glenda!

Who's Glenda? My mummy.

Oh, should I be meeting your mum already?

Of course, why do you think I invited you here?

Put your arm around me!

Really? I feel like we haven't quite broken the ice yet, but...

Hello, Glenda, this is my boyfriend. Pleased to meet you.

What the bloody hell are you playing at?! What do you mean, Glenda?

He's my boyfriend, is there a problem with that? This is the final straw.

Oh, does he frighten you, Glenda? Because he's a disgrace?

Because he's a coward?

Dismissed on medical grounds but we'll let that go.

I thought it was the end of it with the arson.

That's a criminal offence but this is worse.

You're not even dressing properly. You look like a common beggar-woman.

Oh, sorry - now there's a problem with the way that I dress??

Oh, this is wonderful, Glenda.

You're truly excelling yourself.

Can I ask? What shade is that on the skirting board? Is that terracotta...

As far as I can see you're not doing anything other than making

yourself as disgusting as possible.

Oh, don't worry, Glenda, I can be far more disgusting. Far more.

Come here, Cyril. Cecil.

Bert, I'm so sorry.

I had no idea I was capable of being so mean.

I want to invite you to move back in.

Thank you. You've always been kind to me. But I've managed to make other arrangements.

You are looking well for someone who's been out all night. What are your arrangements?

I can't tell you that. I haven't gone down the normal avenues.

I really can't know...?

Oh, dear George, I live in the church organ,

I live in a sherry glass, I live under a very large leaf.

I live everywhere and nowhere - does that satisfy you, finally?

Ah, George, Bert, this is my girlfriend, Penny.

What? Are you two still going out? I think what Bert means to say is, "That's wonderful. Congratulations."

We'll go out for as long as it takes for my mother to break. My stomach's stronger than hers.

That's the spirit. What are you doing?!

Oh, sorry. We have done that before. Yes, in front of my mother.

But I'm not doing it for my own enjoyment, am I?

No, of course not.

Can you turn your face away from me, please?

I need a break from it.

What's going on with this girl, Cecil?

We're in a relationship, what can I say?

She's not treating you pleasantly.

The only reason she's going out with you is to upset her mother.

Wait a minute. He's now the bad-boy figure? What next?

You're the fun one? This is getting out of hand.

Excuse me, Bert Walpole. Lowest of the low.

Bert, what are you doing? I've been banned from three separate cities.

Not villages, not towns, cities.

Really? That's interesting. Stop it, Bert.

Whatever reaction you're getting to Cecil, you'll get double from me.

That's bloody arrogant, actually, Bert.

There are at least a couple of people who don't hate you that much. I'm loathed, Penny, loathed.

What about the rest of Cecil's family? Universally respected.

Oh. That's a low blow. I can't help the actions of my family.

You've put serious effort into destroying your reputation, Penny,

and I'm the right man to take it to the next level.

All right, I'll stick with you. Decision made.

Let's go. I want to be seen kissing you

when Glenda comes out of choir practice with her bitch friends.

Can't believe I almost let you talk me out of this, George.

This is a great deal right here.

Penny, I think your mum would be furious if she found me

with my hand up your bra.

Oh, my God, she'd be apoplectic. We're definitely doing that later.

Oh, no, I can't believe I have to fondle a girl's breast.

That's more than you've done, George, and you're engaged.

Shut up, man.

George, can we have a talk?

With me? Yes. Thank you. I've been praying for this.

Not just this. Bunch of stuff. Anyway, how are you?

Oh, George, the girls and me have had the best idea.

Oh, really? Yes.

We're going to take a photograph of a local pacifist dressed

up as a pig and put it in the paper above the caption,

"This little piggy stayed at home."

It's a way of turning people against the pacifists.

Isn't that a good idea?!

It's a good way of turning people against the pacifists.

The only thing is, we need a pacifist to be in the photo and... All right.

We did all check to see if we knew any pacifists.

Hesta went first and she didn't know any pacifists.

OK. Gracie went next and she didn't know any pacifists.

Yeah, if I could curtail this briefly.

I get the feeling you might be working up to asking me

to being the pig in the photograph.

Got there ahead of me. You're so clever, George.

Now, Winky, is it you asking me or them? Because if it's them...

It's them.

Well, if it's them, I'd be less inclined to do it.

It's me, I'm just so happy they're finally involving me

in something, George!

All right, then, Winky. I suppose it's just a photograph.

Oh, thank you, George!

You're the sweetest most helpful man ever and I wish I could marry you.

But you can. We're engaged. Gotta go.

We're happy, Winky!

Aha! Those gloves only ever mean one thing.

Cecil's off to do the soldier's gardens

And the purpose of the gloves is to protect his hands.

See you later, George. You'll have to do our garden one of these...

No. Knew it was coming, soon as you said, "Gloves."

Not doing your garden. Join the army, I'll do it.

I'm not joining the army, I have a moral opposition to the slaughter. Not doing your garden then.

Absolutely fine. Maybe just give the coral bells a splash.

Not doing it. If I could, I'd make them drier.

Bert!

Bert!

Thanks for all your work around the garden, old gofer -

must get you in for a plum port one of these days.

What are you doing in Butterfly Bill's house?

Who's that? William Kershaw.

Butterfly Bill because he collects butterflies.

Well, that does explain one or two items I've noticed about the place.

Many of 'em butterflies, I'll be honest.

Come in, I'll give you the tour. Mi casa, su casa.

It's not su casa. Not by a long shot.

This is the wine cellar.

Holy moly!

Inside toilet. Inside? Inside the house?!

He is so lucky.

And this is where I like to just lose myself in a book.

I'm currently living and breathing...

um, Rochester's Almanac of British Butterflies.

Kind of a slow-burner, if I'm honest.

Yes, obviously it's beautiful. It's a beautiful house.

It's home. But you can't just wander into other people's houses

and start living there.

Suit yourself, Cecil. I'm overdue at the bar.

So either join me or take your leave.

Apparently it's quite the night outside. Not safe to travel.

But no, go, go, fly!

Back to the clamorous thrum of George's cottage.

Apparently the noise rota have a new member whose job it is just

to scream. Is that true?

Oh, God, I can't really start squatting in a serving

soldier's house, can I?

While the cat's away...

Well, while the cat's bravely facing down machine-gun fire to

defend our way of life.

The mice WILL play.

Seems a bit out of the blue, Cecil. I thought you were very settled.

Well, that's everything.

What is it? Breakfast not up to scratch?

They've dipped, I know, but I can't get kippers for love nor money

and the eggs, my God, well, that was just bad.

That was plain bad and there are no excuses from me. Water under the bridge.

I feel terrible. I don't know what's come over me in the last couple of days.

I've forced out both my housemates with my own selfishness and small-mindedness.

Thanks for living here, Cecil.

I know I have no right to, but I hope to see you again one day.

I really should go. Of course. I've taken up too much of your time with my whining.

No wonder you're moving out when there's this constant torrent of drivel I keep farting out.

Bye, George!

Should have offered him your room. Idiot, George. Bloody idiot.

No wonder they've all left.

Don't look at me!

Pull your socks up! You look like a bloody baby!

Put your hand down.

Cecil...?

Good morning, chaps. It's incredible how much sleep you can get without an orchestra

playing outside your window. What's the plan for today? I thought we could go for a walk -

maybe the 25-mile route round the four villages, and then I've

got a few ideas for a business we can set up manufacturing

waterproof wigs. George, what's happened to you?

I don't know. I've just got so much energy.

This is why I took the place on, little boy. A getaway.

A place of meditation.

A place where ideas can be exchanged freely

away from the suffocating atmosphere of central Rittle.

Um, I slept very well, too

and can I say that I will be recompensing Butterfly Bill

for every night I've spent here, with extra gardening hours.

"Oh, must be noble, mustn't go to hell."

Can I force a glass of wine on you, love?

Bert, we can't have wine, it's the morning.

It's fine, George. You're chez Bert now. Whoops-a-daisy.

Oops. Where are your scrubbers? Make short work of it.

Leave it. No, Bert. I said, "Leave it." Bert, please, I want to.

I would be offended if you tidied that up.

Because it is an insult to me, as the homeowner. Hmmm...

This is your place to be at leisure, George. Put your feet up.

Hell, you can even make a mess if you want.

Go on, make a little mess.

No, I get the idea, Bert. I don't need to make a mess.

I'm serious, George. I want you to make a little mess.

I don't really need to. George. Make a little mess.

Make a little mess.

Atta boy.

See how that feels? That's how I feel... all the time.

Now, drink your wine. Thanks. Oh, I wanted red.

Whatever you want. Discard that.

Hmm. This isn't a very deep red.

I wanted something more like crushed forsythia petals.

Then, what is it still doing in your hand, mate?

That's the way. No harm in smashing this too.

That's not really working there. Didn't even think of that.

What are you going to do about all this mess?

It's fine, I'll just sweep it under the rug.

I think that might just be an expression.

Not if you've actually got a rug, Cecil. Then, it's a triumphant reality.

This is a fine house. It is a fine house. We should have a housewarming party.

You can't really do that, Bert. Why not? Well.

We shouldn't advertise that we're illegally occupying the house of a hero.

Got it. Something small. Just your high-end sorts.

Your mayor, your police, et cetera.

Maybe just nothing. Right, I'm off to see my lady friend.

Maybe I should acquaint that area with the business end of a broom.

Do no such thing. That will be gone in the morning. Believe me.

Is that based on your experience of living with me, during which

I tidied up your messes, sometimes in secret, during the night?

That was you? Oh, that throws a whole theory out of whack. So, enlighten me, George.

Now we've both got our own places - how long am

I going to spend with a cleaning brush or dirt-cloth in my hand?

Well, on a typical day there's general tidying,

sweeping up the mud, beating the carpets.

Then I'm into the main body of the laundry.

Then to work, not forgetting to leave the limerick of the day

on the table ready for when you two sleepy-heads emerge. Thanks. Pleasure.

On the way home, I go to the shops to pick up what we're

running short of, then distribute the clean laundry.

I make the beds. Double turn-back for me.

Absolutely. And fold up any clothes left out. Most of em!

Normally! Then it's just a case of cooking dinner, washing the dishes,

iron a choice of bow ties for Cecil for the next day and track

down some bergamot and magnolia for your magic sleeping potion.

And then, well, it just starts all over again.

Well, what can I say, George, you're a grade-A mug.

I'm afraid I won't be doing a thing.

It's me.

Argh! Oh, yes, you were telling the truth.

Cecil?

Oh, you were right, ratty. This is dreadful.

I'm so sorry I ever doubted you, little ratty.

My dirty little ratty.

What's she doing here, Cecil? She'll tell on us.

I had no choice. She said I was getting boring. I had to up the ante.

I can't believe you've blown our cover for a girl who doesn't like you.

Well, guess what, George, that's the game. That's the goddamn game, mate!

Oh, God!

Did you follow me?

Oh, my goodness, Glenda, have you no common decency?

Isn't this Butterfly Bill's house? I'm moving in here, actually.

I'll see you in a lunatic asylum before I see you living with that man.

I will, you daft old fuck.

I'll move in here with Cecil and we're going to have a baby.

Half-rat. And we're going to call it Tommy, after Daddy. Oh, sorry.

General Bigwig of the farty-army!

Mum, what's wrong?

Don't cry.

It's just been really difficult since Dad enlisted.

It broke his heart to leave you,

but not to fight would have been wicked and unforgivable.

What have I done?

I'm sorry, Mum. I'm sorry too.

Get a room.

Come on, love.

Sorry, can I just enquire,

are you going to tell anyone about finding us here?

My only concern is for my daughter.

What you do is between you and your conscience.

Ideal. Ta!

Bye, Penny. Piss off, Cyril.

It is Cecil.

So, we can stay.

It's a husk, isn't it? We've sucked it dry. Let's move on.

Come on, Auntie.

Well, I tasted the life of an active heterosexual

and, as was probably to be expected, ended up with a bewildered woman weeping and shouting.

I know you're upset about Penny. But the truth is, you shouldn't let anyone treat you like that.

A mature relationship is built upon mutual respect.

If respect goes, dignity goes, and without dignity, well,

what do we have?

So which paper is this for - the Rittle Gazette? Oh, no.

It's a bit of a coup, actually.

I'm going to pass it onto my sister,

whose best friend works at The Times.

The Times? What's your problem with The Times?

It's very prestigious - the circulation's 1.4 million.

I think you'll find pigs walk on all fours, George.

I'm not doing that. George, I think,

the best you can salvage from this is to at least be a good pig.

Unbelievable.

Now, hold that pose for ten minutes while the photograph takes. Ten minutes?!

I wasn't going to use this, but for the sake of my sanity.

Open up.

Have you heard about Butterfly Bill's house?

No, what?

Someone or something has been living there.

They've left it in a state that would disgrace a tribe of baboons.

It wasn't us.

Nobody's saying it was you. Whoever did this is properly evil.

You lot are just small-time shits. Exactly. I feel sick.

Oh, come on, Gracie. Look on the bright side.

Maybe this lunatic will come back one day and kill these three. Then we'll be thanking him.

Ha-ha, I suppose that's right. All a rich tapestry.

Life, eh? I think I'll have a cigarette.

Allow me.