All language subtitles for My Family - S05E06 - My Will Be Done

- Janey, where's my tea?
- You didn't say you wanted one.

- I didn't ask.
- No.

Coffee would do.

Ah, Mikey, you're home early. How was school
today? What are you up to?

Have a nice life.

- Hello.
- Hello, darling.

Had a fun day?

I was at the funeral of my best friend.
What do you think?

Of course, yes. I wasn't talking about
the funeral - I was coming to that -

I meant this morning about the having fun.

Which bit? Sterilising the dustbins,
or getting my ear syringed?

Yeah, I'm sorry, darling. I forgot about
poor Linda's funeral this afternoon.

- You're a callous brute.
- Yeah. Was it depressing?

- Yes, of course it was depressing.
- That's why I didn't go.

It's just like you,
can't face up to anything painful.

What? Someone's got to remain cheerful,
keep up the morale of the family.

It's an uphill struggle.

This afternoon wasn't just painful,
it was badly organised.

The urn went missing... the vicar
seemed to think he was at a wedding

- and the sandwiches were curly.
- (Ben) Oh!

Poor Linda. I'd hate it to be
such a shambles when one of us dies.

- We wouldn't care, we'd be dead.
- That's not the point.

With a little bit of planning it could
have been so much more of an event. Yes.

Yes, well, I've got to go and check
that everyone's keeping their spirits up, OK?

We've got to be prepared, Ben.

At any time we could be snuffed out
like a candle, like Linda. Life is fragile.

No, life is annoying, especially at this minute.

I mean, take poor Linda,
she didn't expect to die.

There she was in Austria, happily skiing...

then bam! She goes crashing into a tree
and rebounds up the mountain

into the path of an avalanche.

Gets miraculously rescued,
but then on the way to the hospital

the ambulance doors swing open and her
stretcher rolls in front of a snow plough.

Could happen to anyone, darling.

- Susan, do the kids ignore you?
- They wouldn't dare.

- They ignore me more and more these days.
- But you like being ignored.

No, I like being left alone,
it's a different thing.

Being ignored implies you're trying to get
someone's attention and they're ignoring you.

Susan? Susan?

Sorry, sorry, I was miles away.

I was just thinking about
the fragility of life.

God, sometimes it's like
I'm not even in the same room.

(Abi) I know that feeling.

- Abi, do you have to do that here?
- Yes, I do.

The light in my room is so bad,
I could lose a toe.

Well, if you want a stronger light bulb,
we could put your rent up.

- Rent?
- Up!

Abi doesn't pay rent.

Oh, really? You mean we're subbing her
to make our life a misery!

- Of course. She's family.
- Hey... Oh, really. Well, it's got to change.

It's bad enough Michael living here
rent free, and you.

Get a rent book. Consider yourself a tenant.

- Consider yourself a callous brute.
- What have you been telling her?

- Abi, come here.
- Yes, Ben?

- Take your toenail clippings with you.
- No!

I hope they sever an artery.

- Don't talk back to your landlord.
- Nyah!

You shouldn't be getting so worked up
in your condition.

What condition?

Oh, it's nothing,
I'm probably just being silly.

And what form does your silliness take?

I just found out you're going to die first.
Good night.

Hang on! You can't just condemn me
to death and go to sleep.

Who are you? Henry VIII?
Why am I going to die first?

I programmed all the family's details
into an online mortality test

to find out the dates of our death...

and you're first.

You got it off some crank website?
How gullible can you get?

I'm not gullible, it's a sensible way
of planning for the future.

It's hokum! Pfff! Jib...

They may have given me 40-odd more years...

40? You wish.

What do you mean I wish?
How long have they given me?

It's nothing, it's nothing.
You're right, it's just hokum.

Yeah, good.

But if it isn't, I need to arrange you
the perfect funeral

- to show everyone how it should be done.
- Er, please, at least let me die first!

Why leave it to the last minute?
Good night.

- (Knock on door)
- Yes, come in.

- Hi, Mikey.
- Dead man walking.

- Yeah, about that. Have you got a minute?
- Yeah. I've got 50 million or so.

I'm not due to die till I'm 112.

- On a Thursday afternoon in May.
- Oh?

Sure, yeah, yeah. Any chance of me
having a go, see what I can come up with?

- OK. I'll do it with you.
- OK, yeah.

Here we go.

Datewithdeath. com?

How's it work?

They ask about your health and lifestyle,

you give honest answers
and then you get a date of death.

- Mm, how delightfully simple.
- OK. "Age?"

- The usual.
- "Are you stressed at work?"

I'm stressed everywhere, mate.

- "Exercise?"
- Ooh, five times a week.

Four.

Three.

OK, none.

- "Do you like your food?"
- Nope.

But your mother still makes me eat it.

- "Do you smoke?"
- Nope.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

- No.
- Yes.

- "Units of alcohol?"
- Ooh... five or six.

- Per night?
- Per week!

Yeah. Right. Per night.

- "Anyone in your family die young?"
- Not as yet.

- OK. Says here you have 67...
- Yes!

...weeks to live.
- Wh...

67 weeks?! But that's not fair.

Life isn't fair,
and in your case not very long either.

(Abi coughs)

Oh, look,

it's my grasping landlord,
Ebenezer Harper.

- Oi! I was watching that.
- Too bad!

I've got tenant's rights now,
and I'm going to assert them.

Two hours' TV of my choice per day.

Great. So you actually enjoy
Australian Loft Clearance Challenge?

No, but I defend to the death
my right to watch it.

Ah, death.

Not far off now.

That'll be me soon.

Yup.

Stubbed out, crushed and scattered.

(Sighs)

I feel like death is staring me in the face.

(Mouths)

Isn't it wonderful? I managed to get Nick a job
at one of the funeral homes I was scouting.

I start tomorrow. Official mourner.

Jealous?

Where the hell have you been all this time?
Not that I'm pleased to see you.

Ah, travelling around.

- Europe?
- Circle Line.

Some do say it is in Europe.

You mean you've been going round on the tube
for the last six months?

- No, I had a stopover in Singapore once.
- Singapore?

Sorry, I meant Bayswater.

Look at him in that suit.
Doesn't he look the part?

Nick, if you are an official mourner,
shouldn't you stop grinning?

Suddenly everyone's an expert!

- And how are you, Ben?
- Oh, fantastic.

Considering I've got only 67 more weeks
to live, according to that website.

- 67 weeks?
- I know.

That's more than I got for you.
You must have cheated.

Well, excuse me for wanting to stay alive.

Anyway, don't worry, Ben.
I've interviewed three funeral directors

and it's all shaping up
for your very special day.

I know! I know, how about a surprise funeral?
Dad could jump out the coffin.

I see black balloons and white streamers
and sad clowns...

and maybe a few monkeys.

Don't listen to him, Ben.

The balloons are good, though.

- Susan, I don't want you to plan my funeral.
- Someone's got to.

When you die, do you want us
just to dump you in the desert

and let the vultures pick clean your bones?

As in life, so in death.

Oh, and that's another thing.
You ought to make a will.

- What? Have you made one?
- No, but I've got another 50 years.

Making a will's a big hoo-ha.

Huh. The kids will fight for my affections,
they'll be trying to bribe me and flatter me.

Yeah.

- Hello, Dad.
- Orgh! Gurgh!

Are you trying to kill me?
Couldn't you wait another 67 more weeks?

Oh, I can wait.

How many weeks will that hot dog take off?
You haven't many to play with.

That's not the kind of thing
a son should be saying to a father

who's about to make his will.

- What should I be saying?
- How about...

what can I do for my dear old dad
to make sure that I get left something?

- I could help you make the will.
- Mmm, really?

Yeah, probate law's one of my hobbies.

No?

Most importantly, divest yourself of your capital
immediately so as to avoid inheritance tax.

In fact, you may as well start now
by giving me that watch.

What do you think, Ben? Should I go with
the coal black or the midnight jet?

It depends how far away
the midnight jet is going.

Stop it, Ben. These are my widow's weeds.
Which is sexier?

Sexier? You're planning to score
at your own husband's funeral?

Don't you want me to find
a new father for your children?

- Yes... but why wait till I'm dead?
- Maybe you're right, Ben.

Maybe we should think now
about who will care for Michael.

No one much. Ever.

I mean, he's still under 18. lf...
If we both died, he'll need a guardian.

Someone he'd like and respect.

Stalin? Pol Pot?

Don't be silly, Ben.

We don't know them...

and they're dead.

- What?
- No, I was just thinking.

- What about Roger?
- Roger? Michael would hate that.

Yes, I know.

You chose me to be Michael's guardian?
Oh, Ben!

What have I done to deserve this?

Plenty.

I've always wanted to be a role model
for someone.

At last, I can influence and mould
a young mind.

Roger, Michael's mind is 47.

I can recreate him in my own image.

He'd be just like a son.
A real boy of my own.

Hang on a minute, Geppetto...
This guardian thing is a mere formality.

Michael is 18 next year and believe it
or not I may just survive that long.

Oh. You never know, though.
We may be in luck.

Don't think I don't know what you're up to.

- I don't.
- Don't what?

- That.
- What?

- I don't think you don't know.
- What?

What you said, I don't think it.

Whatever it is, it's no good sucking up to me,
offering me ice for my whisky,

cleaning my shoes
and bringing up my paper.

I haven't done either of those.

I know but those are the kind of things
a son might do for a father

who was about to make his will.

Oh, right. You wouldn't want me
to do those sorts of things, though.

Well I wouldn't mind, I suppose.

But before I decide
to leave you my money, I...

I'd want to make sure
that you were a responsible adult...

and hold down a proper job.

Dad, arranging funerals, man,
it's a job for life!

- And how is the job at the undertakers?
- It's good, man, it's fine, it's good.

Although they're not too keen on me
pinching ice from the mortuary. Cheers.

Oh, Ben. It's started, then.

That's a nasty little death rattle
you've got there.

Still, at least you know
Michael's in safe hands.

I really don't believe this.

Where are all the displays of affection
and bribes?

Anyone would think
I wasn't making my will.

Right.

Where does the apostrophe go
in "cats home"?

Ben, I'm busy researching...

and I don't know.

Anyway, I've called a family meeting tomorrow.

Yup, it will be their last chance to show me
who's the most worthy of my legacy...

if they turn up.

What's this? Is this for me?

Oh, Susan, you shouldn't have.

Miles Davis, Steeley Dan,
Elvis Costello, these are my favourites.

- Of course - they're for your funeral.
- But just...

No, not now, you'll just have to wait.

Er, Roger, Roger, I'm sorry,
this is a family meeting, do you mind?

Oh, not at all. I've just been over the park
with my young ward.

- We've bonding over a rough, tough game.
- Can I have my chess set back?

Yeah.

I think the moulding is going rather well.

- Go now, Roger.
- Yes, Michael.

How do you do that?
Yeah! Well, we're nearly all here.

- Hi, Dad.
- If not all there.

- What is that smell?
- (Janey) Yuck!

Ha-ha. Got bored at work.
Tuesday is a slack day in the trade.

- Nick, what have you done?
- I had a go at embalming my leg.

Oh, my God, that's really dangerous.

Yeah, tell me about it.
Someone might trip up on it.

Don't worry, I'll keep it under the table,
out of the way.

Argh!

Aah!

Now, you all know why you're here.

I'm, er... (Sniffs)... writing my will.

And just to make sure who is
the most worthy of my worldly goods.

So we will start with an easy one.

"Which one of you loves me the most?"

OK, yeah, erm... That's fine...

I know you're too inhibited to answer
a delicate question like that.

So I'll put it another way.

Um... What is it that you love most about me?

Who... who wants to start?

Why don't you ask them
what they dislike least?

Susan, plea...

You heard your mother. Michael, you start.

- Oh, but I'm the youngest.
- Yeah, come on.

OK. I'm fond of the way you... you
sometimes go to work on weekends.

Janey?

You know, I quite liked the cut
of one of your jackets once.

And?

And... that Rolling Stones CD you lent me.

- No, no, that was mine.
- Oh, well, then just the jacket thing.

Nick?

I like the way you ride bareback through
the woods with the wind in your hair.

Well, that's... that's brilliant, isn't it?
That's... that's... That's wonderful!

Three children who cannot say one thing
that they love about their own father.

- Can't even be bothered to try.
- I think they tried very...

Can't you even love me for my money
any more?

- Well, Gran's leaving me hers.
- Got a good job.

Roger's paying me L50 a week
just to let him be my guardian.

That's it. If that's the way
you want to play it, fine.

- None of you gets a penny when I die.
- How about a fiver now?

You're an unfeeling,
uncaring bunch of ungrateful gits.

I'll tell you something else.
One day you'll all be dead too!

- Not for another 95 years.
- 82 for me.

- 50.
- 3,027...

- and that's just my leg.
- Right.

Abi?

This is a violation of tenant privacy...
and I haven't got a dog!

Hm? It's all right.
Give me your rent book.

OK.

- Right.
- What are you doing?

- You are no longer my tenant.
- Oh. So you're giving me notice?

- Yes! To stop paying rent.
- What?

Yup. Then I'm going to redecorate
your bedroom and, erm...

you are now my sole beneficiary.

Oh, thanks, Ben. What's a...

It means when I die you get everything I've got.

- Oh, wow! Did you hear that, Mr Woofs?
- Hm?

Nothing.

- You're home early.
- Got fired.

Oh. For embalming which bit?

I'll show you later.

But I wasn't sacked for that. I was
executing handbrake turns in a hearse.

- You wrecked a hearse?
- Three.

And a flower stall...
and a set of railings but -

and this is a big but -

I never leave a job
without a little memento.

Nick!

This is our newest model,
the Chislehurst Executive.

I thought Dad could use it.

You crawler. How'd you get it?

Oh, employee discount. Second-hand.

No one was looking.

- Hi, Nick.
- All right.

- What's that?
- It's Dad's coffin.

Ben's?! So soon, what happened?

- I had an accident with a hearse.
- (Abi gasps)

- So it was all your fault?
- Yeah, but it's no big deal. It happens.

But Ben's your own father.
How dreadful and ghastly.

Yeah, tell me about it.

And I never told him I loved him.

- Oh, yeah? Why is that?
- Because I didn't.

Until last night.

I'm a very rich woman now.

Cool. I'd marry you like a shot...

if we weren't related

and I found you remotely attractive.

Oh, thanks, Nick. That's the first
proposal of marriage I've ever had.

Aw.

Oh, my God!
What's Nick been embalming now?

Dinner will be ready shortly.

Susan...

Ah, Ben, actually, I wouldn't mind your opinion.

If you want my opinion,
you should stop all this right now.

- Oh, Ben, I want your funeral to be perfect.
- Yes, it will be perfect

because I'll be dead...

and rid of you lot.

And according to the latest forecast,
it won't be very long.

Oh, you went on to another website?

Yes, and every site I look at, it gets worse.

I'm now down to three weeks.

- Three weeks? Oh, that's awful.
- Oh, Susan.

Oh.

I was hoping you'd make it to April,
a spring funeral would be so lovely.

Stop it, stop it, stop it now!

- I'm only trying to be organised.
- I don't want that!

I want you to go to pieces!
To be completely and utterly distraught

like you were when Swimmy
the goldfish died.

I want you to weep and wail
and gnash your teeth,

I want you to pull out your hair
and tear your clothes...

and then go off your food
and then sit in silence staring at a wall...

- Slowly, slowly.
- What are you doing?

- I'm noting all this down.
- Oh!

- Raaah!
- Aaah!

It's you! That's not funny!

You sadistic horrible pigs, both of you!

- What the hell was that all about?
- Prrh. Money's gone to her head.

- Is your mother completely out of her mind?
- Always.

Right, well, she's gone too bloody far this time.

- (Susan) Dinner's ready!
- Right. I'll show her. Ha!

This should give her a shock.
Nick, come here. Nick?

Ha ha ha ha.

Dad, you look good in there.

Want me to nail down the lid?
All part of the service.

Just go and get your mother, OK? Bring her in
here and I'll show her the meaning of grief.

- OK, I'll be right back.
- Yeah.

- Oh, hello.
- Good evening.

- Do you know a Nicholas Harper?
- Nick? He's my son.

- My condolences, Madam.
- What?

A bit of a handful, isn't he?
Erm, we're his former employers.

Ah, yes, of course. Former?

As of this afternoon, yes.
Unfortunately we had to let him go.

Stunt driving a hearse. Frowned upon.

Well, he is very creative.

Do you know he embalmed his leg?

Yes.

Would you like to come in
and wait for him?

Er, we think he may have left with one of
our coffins. A new, top-of-the-range model.

The Chislehurst Executive. Very swish.

Well, I'm sure it is but I don't think my son
would have stolen one of your...

coffins.

- Chislehurst Executive?
- Unmistakably.

I am so sorry.

He didn't dig it up, did he?

No.

What's the matter?

You tell me.

- Well, is it to do with Dad?
- Dad? No. Why?

Didn't you see him in the coffin?

- Which coffin?
- The coffin, coffin.

Hey, where did it go?!

Out! Out! Out!

They didn't have chicken
so I got egg mayonnaise.

(Snoring)

Did you hear that?

(Louder snoring)

Oh, I expect it's just the wood settling.

(Mumbling)

No... I tell you what,
I heard something like a... lost soul.

When you've been in this business as long...

- (Thud)
- (Ben) Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Susan?

Susan?

- Su... Aah! Aah! Aaah!
- Aaaah!

See, Mum, I told you.
Follow the screams, it never fails.

- Ben.
- You? Nick? Where the hell am I?

- Um... You're at the funeral parlour, dear.
- What? Wasn't buying my coffin enough?

- Ben, please...
- Is this some morbid, sicko dress rehearsal?

- You can't wait to get rid of me, can you?
- Oh, Ben, I'm going to miss you so much.

Oh, shhh. I'm gonna miss you too, darling.

No, you won't, it's all right for you. (Sniffs)

You'll be dead, you won't feel a thing.

Just like in life.

Here you go, here you go.

Oh!

Oh, Ben, please don't go. Oh!

- (Ben) Shhh. It's all right.
- (# Sombre music)

I'm not going anywhere. Not yet.

It's just a stupid website.

OK, four stupid websites.

And I miss poor Swimmy! (Sobs)

(Wailing)

(Wailing continues)

You're still fired.

- Thank you, Roger.
- Sir.

You're probably wondering
why I called you all here.

- No.
- No.

- No.
- Yes.

What was the question?

I've completed my will.

But... I've also found an online mortality site
that talks sense.

It's given me 40 more years to live.

I can smoke, I can drink,
I can eat as much junk food as I like.

Ha! I've never felt so healthy and alive.
See this?

- Your will.
- My inheritance! (Gasps)

My freedom!