All language subtitles for The Good Life s01e02 Say Little Hen.eng

Come on. Come on.

Come on. Come on. Out you get. Come on.

Come on. Good girl. Come on.

- Thanks a lot, Jerry.
- Baa!

Come on. Come on.

Come on. Come on. Come on.

Mind the step. Come on. Here we go.

In you go. In there. That's the idea.

(Sucks teeth)

Don't give me those goo-goo eyes.
I saw you eat that dog's ball.

(Thud! Thud!)

(Glass shatters)

(Knocks)

Anybody in?

I haven't found my overcoat.

- Why the...?
- This. Flying glass.

Tick. VG,

It doesn't really look like a chicken house,
does it?

Not yet. It will when I've boarded it up.
You carry on. I'll get the wood.

I say.

- You look utterly ridiculous.
- Honey tongue.

Hello, Margo!

Jerry!

Jerry!

(More glass shatters)

(Hums)

Jerry!

Jerry, she's smashing glass now.

That's nothing. You should have seen Tom
on the common with the goat.

Why can't he go after dark?

He's within his rights. It's common grazing land.

Maybe. You don't find other people in the district
parading their cattle out there.

Is a goat cattle?

That's beside the point.

Why can't he have a dog like everyone else?

Dogs don't have udders.

Jerry, don't be obtuse.
You know very well what I mean.

It was funny with the Pekinese, though.

- What are you talking about? What was?
- On the common.

"Fetch the ball-ball, Princess Tia."

Of course the ball-ball runs up to the goat,
Princess Tia follows the ball-ball

and the goat eats it.

Oh, my God.

No. Not the Pekinese. The ball-ball.

Well, I hope you drove on.

- I gave Tom a lift.
- And?

Well, yes, and the goat. I couldn't leave it to run
behind the car, could 1?

Well, thank you very much, Jerry!

I shall not set foot in that car again
until you've had it thoroughly valeted.

Goats are filthy animals.
They're hairy and smelly. They've got diseases.

I tell you what.
We'll stave off infection with a glass of gin.

I should have thought it was a little early
to start boozing.

Oh. Right.

Well, I'll have yours.

(More glass shatters)

And why is Barbara ruining
a perfectly good greenhouse?

Converting it. They're going to keep chickens.

Chickens? Does the Residents' Association
know about this?

- I really don't know.
- Well, they should.

This whole thing is getting entirely out of hand.
It's like living next door to gypsies.

Perhaps we'll get some clothes pegs
for Christmas.

It's not funny, Jerry.

- We all know you think it is.
- As a matter of fact, I don't.

Tom's a friend. He's chucked up a good job
for this insane notion of self-sufficiency.

- Doomed to failure. We all feel sorry for him.
- Why?

Is that your idea of rational behaviour?

The poor fellow has obviously had some sort of
brainstorm, a breakdown, even.

I'm sorry. If he chooses to have
a nervous breakdown, that's his business.

I don't see why he should inflict it
on poor Barbara.

They do seem quite happy, though, don't they?

A facade.

No, no, no. They are heading for degradation,
misery and squalor.

And we have to live next door to it.

- Give us a lift. I can't get it started.
- How's it going?

Have a whiff.

- What has that goat been eating?
- Dogs' balls.

Pardon?

Sorbo ones. You know.

Well, anyway, goat's milk is supposed
to smell a bit.

Well, it's supposed to smell a bit.
It's coming on very well.

Well, it looks right.

Just imagine. Our own goat's butter.

- Can you have goat's butter?
- We'll soon find out.

- Where's the turps?
- Under the sink.

- Pink? You painted our chicken house pink?
- Yes.

Have you put little chintz curtains up
at the windows, as well?

I'm not doing a Beatrix Potter.

It's just that we happened to have some old
paint in the shed and it happened to be pink.

- We're economising. Remember?
- Ah, yes, now, talking of economy,

the cheque stubs for the big shop you do at
the weekends, they average out at about �15.

Mm.

Look at this. Come here.

Now I've cut out all the luxury stuff.
We can't afford it. Things like pate. Right?

All the things on here are the less expensive
but high nourishment foods.

We've got to buy food until ours grows,
but the more we can spin out our kitty the better.

This list I made out will keep us
perfectly well fed for �10.

- Do you want to go back to churning?
- Why?

I did the shopping this morning. For �8.

�8?

Right. Come on.

(Doorbell)

- That could be the man with our chickens!
- I'll go! Chickens!

Oh, look, you're being silly. There are eleven
little ravers out here waiting for you. Come on.

Perhaps he's queer.

Perhaps he is.

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

He's not queer. He's a Bolshevik.

All right, Lenin, come out. Come on. Out!
Come on. Let's have you out.

He must be hanging on to the sides.

Oh, blow you, then. Stay there.

I see. It's going to be a battle of wits
between us two. I can see that.

Oh! One's gone inside.
Quick! She's going to lay.

- How do you know?
- Well, she might be.

Oh, look, this is just chicken voyeurism.

No.

- Patient, aren't we?
- (Giggles)

Let's leave them some food
and let them get on with it. Clang!

I forgot to get the grain.
Got any scraps?

Yes. In the dustbin.

- For the dustmen?
- Well, not personally, but if they want them...

Look, I told you before, we don't give scraps
to dustmen ever. Right?

Refuse is not rubbish. They'll eat it.
The goat will eat it.

When we get the pig, he'll eat the dustbin.

I looked really stupid in that swimming mask,
didn't1?

I'll get the scraps.

That one has got a limp!

Margo! Wait!

- You're not throwing that away, are you?
- It's yesterday's.

That doesn't matter. May I have it?

- You want this?
- Yes, please. A lot of nourishment in there.

Well, of course.

You're very welcome to it, Barbara.

Lovely! I'll give you the plate back.

- Yes, of course.
- Thanks.

Jerry!

Jerry, you'll have to do something.

Jerry!

Jerry! I said you're going to have to do
something.

What? Do something about what?

Poor Barbara is now reduced
to begging for scraps.

It's all right. I've taken steps.

Sleepwalking, presumably.

No, I've been thinking about what you said
about Tom and Barbara heading for hard times.

"Degradation, misery and squalor�
is what I said they're heading for.

Yes, possibly even that.

I mean, all right, well, they're happy.

Perhaps lemmings are happy as they rush
towards the edge of the cliff.

So I've taken steps.

Have you actually covered any ground?

Yes, I phoned the boss and asked him
and his wife to come over for dinner.

Right? Now I go and ask Tom to come over here
for drinks at the same time.

I tell the boss what a wonderful draughtsman
he's lost in Tom

and, hey presto, the boss offers Tom
his old job back again.

And The Avenue stops looking like
a slum-clearance area.

Very good, Jerry.

Very good.

When did you arrange dinner for?

Tonight.

Well, thank you very much, Jerry!

What's wrong?

What's wrong? I need at least three weeks
if I'm going to entertain a managing director.

You don't need three weeks
to cook a bit of dinner.

I have never done that in my life.

I prepare meals, Jerry,

and I've nothing to wear.

Well, serve it naked.

Would you mind very much
not being quite so vulgar?

I've just remembered the candelabra
are being replated

and we don't have a new napkin in the house.

- All right. Forget it. I'll think of something else.
- No.

No, I'll manage, Jerry. A woman always does.

Right. I'll pop over and tell Tom.

You've got five minutes!

I didn't know it was going to be a speed trial.

There are a million things to do
and I shall need some help.

I thought you said a woman always managed.

My God! Just look at the state of this patio.

God! You ought to see that lot eat. They're not
chickens, at all. I think they sold us vultures.

Never mind. I expect vultures' eggs are bigger.

- They don't know the meaning of the word.
- Boots!

How's the goat's-milk butter?

I don't think goats know the meaning
of the word.

I'm waiting for a sort of buttery thud
and all I'm getting is a sloshing sound.

Never mind. Look, let's try it, eh?

That'll do.

Ta.

It's a bit runny.

No, wait a minute,
the sediment would be right at the bottom.

Well done. Stand back. Grab hold of that. Right.

I've got something here. Oh, blast, I've lost it!

Hang on. Hang on. No. Hang on.

- Tom.
- Yeah?

Did you wash your hands after messing about
with those chickens?

Eurgh!

Judging from the expression on your face,
you've just put your hand in something nasty.

Jerry, you wouldn't understand. We're in
the advanced stages of butter making here.

I was just counter-agglomerating the thrake
that you find at the bottom.

Thrake?

Yes. Yes. Thrake. Yes. Tudor English.

As in The Taming Of The Shrew.

Act ll. Scene.. 1.

- I'm not familiar with The Taming Of The Shrew.
- No, Margo does get a lot of her own way.

I'm just tolerant.

I'm also a bit deaf in the earl use for Margo.

I haven't lost my sense of smell, though.

Look, how about coming over for drinks,
this evening?

- Jerry, we are thraking.
- We're going to have bits on sticks.

Sorry, mate, too busy.

I was going to open a bottle of old malt.

What time do you want us?

- Six-ish.
- Right.

Remember alcohol?

We used to have that in the olden days.

We haven't had a pint for a week.

If you think you're getting a pint of old malt,
you're very much mistaken. Cheerio.

Hey, I'll tell you something.
My hand is ever so soft.

Weird.

- It should be thickening, you see.
- Well, it's not, is it?

Grab that end.

Now lift.

Right. Go.

Hold it. Hold it. Tom, what are we doing?

I'll turn this into butter If it Kills me.

- Probably will, with what's in there.
- Oh, yes. Shame, though.

Well, at least we have chickens that don't lay.

Yes. It's just that I don't like wasting anything.

Well, you can't win 'em all, can you?

I've got it. I've got it. We'll recycle it.

We'll give it back to the goat.

We thought we'd have our drinks out here, sir.
It's such a beautiful day.

Oh, fine. Fine. Yes.

I...

Great Scott! What's he done to his garden?

Looks like the Somme.

That's in just a week. He's got a goat, too.

What? In Surbiton?

I know, when he was with the company,
he was always a bit...

- Eccentric?
- Well, strange, but, I mean, this...

Yes, but Tom is a friend, you see, sir.

I feel I just can't stand aside
and let him ruin his life like this.

I thought if we could get him back to
the company...

That's why I've asked him round this evening.

Oh, Lord. Have you? Thanks very much.

He is a thundering good draughtsman.

If we got him back on the rails, we should save
him. I don't think that's putting it too strongly.

All very laudable, Jerry, but I'm running
a business, not a psychiatric clinic.

He's the best draughtsman we ever had.

I don't see us keeping the Webber account
without him.

Well, of course, I've always been very fond of ..
What's his name?

Tom.

Well, I don't mind doing what I can to help.

That's very philanthropic of you, sir.

Oh, my dear.

Oh, look, a goat!

Oh, I'm so sorry, Felicity.

No, no, I like goats.

Drinks, please, Jerry.

- (Doorbell)
- Door, please, Jerry.

Of course, it's Barbara
I feel so terribly sorry for in all this.

- Who's Barbara?
- Tom Good's wife, a lovely girl.

Oh, yes, lovely, but pathetic.

- Hello.
- Oh, hello, Barbara.

- Come and sit down.
- I hear you're not too well, dear.

No, I didn't say "unwell', I said, "pathetic".

Oh, thanks very much.

Stone the crows, it's old Andy!
You never told me...

Dolores del Rio.

He remembers. Ramon Novarrol

When was that dinner-dance?

Two years ago, but it only seems like yesterday.

It's good to see you again, er, er, Tom.

Andy, how is the give-away
plastic-toy business?

- Much as you left it.
- Shame.

Catch-as-catch-can in Brussels, of course.

But, er, it keeps the old ulcers on their toes.

(False laughter)

How is this... erm... this... er...

of yours going?

It's catch-as-catch-can with
the Brussels sprouts, but more relaxing.

- (Chicken squawks)
- It's her.

My turn. Excuse me.

- Mind the trellis.
- And mind your trousers!

Sorry about this. We're expecting our first egg.

We've had the hens since first thing
this morning, but nothing.

- It's very exciting.
- Oh, it must be.

My dear Tom, I've got a dozen eggs in the fridge
if you want them.

Ah, yes, but, you see,
yours have got little lions on.

When ours arrive,

when they finally arrive, they will only have...
you know on them.

Yes?

No. A phantom pregnancy.

We think we've got a queer cockerel.

Sorry, Andy, what were you saying?

What was I saying?

I think you were about to tell Tom
something to his advantage, sir.

Ah, yes! Yes. Now look here, Tom,
I won't beat about the bush,

there's a desk waiting for you at JUM.

- You what?
- Yes.

Has it been asking for me by name?

Tom...

I'm asking for you by name.

- Come back and join us.
- Not in a million years, mate.

Don't you think
you ought to think about this seriously?

Not many people get a second chance at 40.

I've taken my second chance and,
as for being 40, when I'm 50, then [I'll be 40.

We can't see you throw your life away
on a lot of...

- (Cock-a-doodle-dool)
- What's that? Wrong sex.

...chickens.

- You arranged this.
- Only with the very best intentions.

I know. Thanks very much, but no thanks.

That is the most selfish thing I have ever heard.

All right, Tom,
if you wish to commit social suicide

and ruin the neighbourhood
while you're doing it, so be it,

but I think it's despicable to tow
poor Barbara along in your wake.

Qi I'm not an old barge.

I know, dear, but...
I'm not sure you understand the implications.

- Now, look...
- Your goat, dear, has it got a name?

Yes. Margo.

Jerry?

It's their goat.

This is all very Robinson Crusoe-ish,
but the fact is a man has to work.

Work? They are blisters, not birthmarks.

We're on an 86-hour week, you know.

That's just my point. If you come back to JJM,
you won't have to work nearly as hard.

I heard that, Leadbetter.

Jerry meant manually.

We don't look on it as work. It's our way of life.

It is work,
because we collapse at the end of the day.

If I could understand that, I'd agree with it.

What about money in all this?

We're using our savings up till harvest time.

And when you can't pay the electricity bill?

We've thought of that. We'll go over to gas.

- And how do you pay for that?
- We don't. We make it ourselves.

- What with, pray?
- Dung.

Well, I'm sorry, but I think the whole scheme is
a load of... nonsense.

I wanted to do something exciting
when I was young

and then I married Andrew
and that was the end of that.

What you're doing now, that's really exciting.

I don't know whether you'll succeed,
but just trying is exciting.

Felicity, you've got it in one.

Well, I'm sorry. I've said all I'm going to say.

I've said all I'm going to say.

I'm not going to say any more
and have my head bitten off again.

Anyone fancy a game of hide and seek?

Let's forget it and relax.

Why don't you stay for dinner?
We're going to have it out here.

Oh, thank you, Jerry. That's lovely.

After all, it is the least we can do.

I beg your pardon?

Well, times are obviously very hard
and we've got plenty of food here.

We don't need Oxfam relief.

I am not unobservant, Tom.

- I do notice things.
- Are my flies undone?

I am referring to Barbara, this morning.

Now, I didn't want to bring this up
in front of other people,

but begging leftovers is hardly
a sign of affluence.

- You mean that shepherd's pie?
- The rustic pot roast.

You did ask for it.

True.

- Well, I rest my case.
- It was for the chickens.

And they didn't like it.

Well, is it surprising?

One doesn't get one's A-levels
in domestic science

by cooking meals to please chickens.

Yes, be fair, Margo is a first-rate cook. Mostly.

Margo, tell them what we're having
for dinner tonight.

- I don't really know that I want to.
- All right. Don't.

We're having asparagus
and canard a la paysanne.

Eh?

Duck pieces.

Really? Where do you get fresh asparagus from
at this time of year?

One has contacts.

Oh, yes, the Freezer Centre.

- Honestly, Margo, do stop going on.
- Very well. Throw my food in my face.

Oh, Margo, we're not insulting you. You're
treating an invitation to dinner like War On Want.

All they're doing is offering you a helping hand.

Stay out of this, Andy.

Anyone would think we had to eat at
the Seamen's Mission.

Exactly. In fact, and this is why we can't stay
to dinner,

we've got something a bit special in the food line
ourselves, haven't we?

- Haven't we, Barbara?
- Yes.

See?

- You're bluffing.
- This is no bluff.

We've got something a bit special tonight.

What?

Pardon?

I said, what?

Never you mind. Something a bit special.

Very special, actually.

It will all be fresh and home produced.

None of your asparagus lolly ice
and some poor old duck that's lost its quack.

I certainly don't mind if you slaughter
that disgusting goat.

Oh, for heaven's sake!

Oh, look, the sun's coming out.

Must be the influence of us little flowers.

- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be ungracious.
- Well, heaven help us when you do.

- Now, look here, Mrs Beeton...
- We must make allowances for Margo.

She has got A-level domestic science
to live up to tonight.

Not too easy with a dodgy tin opener.

Now, if you'll excuse us,
we've got a little feast of our own to whip up.

- Coming, darling? Evening, all.
- Evening.

Well...

I could strangle Margo sometimes.
I'm sorry. I couldn't control myself any longer.

At least you got the last word
and that's not easy with Margo.

I excel at hollow boasting.

We haven't produced anything yet.

All we've got is subterranean veg
and sterile chickens.

Aren't you forgetting something?

We gave that back to the goat. Remember?

The Matabele eat giant wood grubs, you know.

Silly sods.

Well, perhaps it will rain.

That's not going to make the potatoes grow in
two hours.

But it will keep them off the patio.

We could skulk about in here
and eat a packet of chicken chow mein.

Hey, what are we thinking about?
We'll kill a chicken. Fresh roasted chicken!

Dan!

Yes, Doris?

That's not good Ambridge thinking, is it?

You don't kill off one-twelfth of your stock,
not after six hours.

- Quite right, Doris.
- Especially not just to prove a point.

We don't have to prove anything.
If she wants to be all smug and victorious...

- . let her.
- Yes, let her.

- We'll kill a chicken.
- Right.

Go on, then.

Me? Oh, no.

No, no. I told you, I'll go bankrupt with you,
I'll starve with you.

But I couldn't kill a chicken to save my life.

Fair enough. I'll do it.

Go on, then.

Yes, well, you don't just dash into these things,
you know.

You've got to have method.

Method. Yeah.

Now, look.

(Mimics squawking chicken)

You take the chicken by the legs
and hold it upside down. Right?

Automatically, it puts its head on one side.

You put the chicken on the table,
push aknee in its neck and pull.

Just like that.

There's a lot of the Papa Doc in you.

Or you simply wring its neck

and feel the bones cracking in your hands.

Here.

You saw the Seven Samurai. Chop its head off.

Hoi-ta!

But then the headless body runs down
the garden,

all a-quivering and a-gushing blood
and chases you round the kitchen table!

No, no, I can't bear it!

My legs are going all funny.

No. Now, seriously, seriously, I've got it.

Now there's no need to shoot yourself
just because you can't Kill a chicken.

All Surbiton Air Pistol Champion
at the age of 11.

- I could do it with this.
- I never heard of anyone shooting a chicken.

It's an old Mafia trick.

All right. Go on, then.

Only don't kiss it first.

Chicken, I'm going to make you an offer
you can't refuse.

(Mimics Bogart) OK, sweethearts,
nobody moves.

You'll do.

Close your eyes.

I do hope you're not the one with the limp.

(Gunshot)

I hope nobody will gag at petite marmite.

It looks just like the illustration on the tin,
my dear.

I did want to apologise to you, sir,
for this afternoon's little fracas.

Oh, don't apologise, Jerry.
It was quite amusing in its way.

The fella is absolutely mad, of course.
Still, it's his...

- Life?
- Funeral.

Nevertheless, it was rather a petulant display.

All those wild claims

about this fantastic home-produced meal
they are supposed to be having.

Really!

TOM: I've laid out all the best silver, darling.

I've lit the candles. Are you ready?

Just finishing the garnish, darling.

Ah, magnificent.

Nothing from the supermarket here, eh, darling?

BARBARA: God forbid.

- Will you carve, darling?
- Rather, darling.

How could you miss a chicken from six inches?

It ducked.

Anyway, we know how to make them lay now.

Scare 'em into it.

Mm!

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