All language subtitles for The Good Life s02e03 Mr Fix-It.eng

Cor.

Look at that! Look at it!

Craftsmen made tools to last in the old days.
Not now, though. In the old days, yes.

That's from the old days.

- You found it in the shed when we moved In.
- Did 17?

Yes. You said you were going to send it on
to the bloke who'd left it behind.

Well, he's welcome to it now.
Load of old rubbish.

Don't go on at the fork.
It must have dug about 6,000 acres by now.

I wasn't digging with it.
I was banging in a stake with it.

What do you use for digging?
A sledgehammer?

If they'd made longbows out of this tat,
we'd have been in a fine state at Agincourt.

Sorry, my liege, it came away in my hand.
I'll have to chuck my arrows.

- And it's raining.
- You are having a little moan, aren't you?

It's important.
We need all the daylight hours we can get.

- The nights are drawing in.
- Yes, well, they usually do in autumn.

Yes, but they're keeping us inside.

We shouldn't just be sitting about, doing nothing.

- True enough. You shouldn't.
- No.

We should be using these long evenings like...
like the crofters do.

They don't sit chatting on the long evenings.
They mend their nets, and knit jumpers.

You can't knit.

- Neither can you.
- Well, mend your nets.

I haven't got any nets.
I'm just saying we should be utilising the time.

Oh, yes, you mean like
mending our working clothes.

Exactly. Now you, for example, should be...

...doing exactly what you are doing,
which makes you a clever dick.

- Any floorboards needs nailing down?
- No.

I could creosote the chicken house.

It's too dark in the garden.

Well, I can't sew, can I?
I never claimed to be able to sew.

Well, mend your fork!

I was going to do that.

L'had it in mind to do that before you even said it.

So if you're at home
and you've got a broken fork,

that's what you should be doing.

- (Knock at door)
- That's typical.

Just when you get started on a job...
interruptions.

- Hello, Tom. It's only Margo.
- Hello, Margo.

- You're wanted on the telephone.
- I haven't got a telephone.

- My telephone.
- I see. Thanks. Who is it?

- I don't know. It's a Mr Coles.
- Never heard of him.

You haven't been gardening
in a dinner jacket, have you?

Certainly. You've heard of gentleman farmers.

- Hello, Margo.
- Hello, dear.

Barbara, Tom is wearing a dinner jacket
for manual work. He'll ruin it.

- Doesn't matter.
- Say he had to go to a function?

We don't go to functions any more, Margo.

No, you don't, do you?

Nevertheless,
a dinner jacket in a muddy garden...

I tell you what, think of it as just a coat.

Mm-hm. Yes.

Well, that's it. That is all it is.

No, Barbara.
That's like calling salmon mousse fish paste.

As far as Tom and I are concerned,

it doesn't matter what it looks like
as long as it's serviceable.

I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were reduced
to scraping the bottom of your sartorial barrel.

We're just making use of the things we've got.

Brave, brave, Barbara.

How extraordinary. It must be a trick of the light.

One leg looks orange, one leg looks blue.

Right. You've got it. Snazzy, aren't they?

- You can't wear those.
- Why not?

Because one leg is orange
and one leg is blue.

I don't mind if the pigs don't mind.

You never know, this could be the in gear
for swineherds this year.

- Barbara?
- Hm?

Look at me.

On Saturday morning,
I shall be shopping in the high street.

Wow.

And I shall have my cheque book with me.

Yes.

Well, call it an early Christmas present
if you like...

No, thank you, Margo, all the same.

But this stuff will do for us fine.

I mean, honestly.
Now look, what is wrong with that?

Just as a pair of working trousers.

One leg is orange and one leg is blue.

Well, kid, you're gonna be a star.

- Really?
- Who was that on the telephone, Tom?

He's a journalist. He wants to do a feature on us.

No!

Ron in the pub mentioned us and
self-sufficiency. He wants to write about it.

- How extraordinary!
- And you said yes?

He seemed a nice fellow. Just a few pictures,
abit of blurb. Might be a bit of a giggle.

Yes, why not? I could wear my new trousers.

Barbara!

If one is to appear in a newspaper, one must be
very careful about one's appearance.

When is he coming, by the way?

Tomorrow.

- Morning or afternoon?
- Morning.

Have you got any string, Barbara?
I think I could fix that fork.

- Any special time in the morning?
- Left-hand drawer.

Ta. You were saying?

Oh, I just thought you might want me here
to help with something.

- No, I don't think so, Margo, thank you.
- Oh.

Fine. We'll leave it at that, then.

You call me when the journalist is here.

Should you want anything, anything at all.

I don't think we want Margo for anything, do we?

No, I don't think we want Margo for anything,
Tom.

Thanks all the same, Margo.

Oh.

Well...

- I'll say good night, then.
- Good night.

- I know what Margo could do.
- Yes, what?

Lend us a ball of string.

Now, I'd like you to do something
really interesting.

Mm, erm... Could you... close in on each other?

Er abit closer.

Just a bit closer. Mrs Good,
could you turn and look at your husband?

But I'm looking up his ear.

Yes, I want you to look really natural.

I don't usually stand about looking in his ear.

- She's here.
- Thought she might be.

Mr Coles, I've got an idea.

If we move along a bit, we can point at the pigs.

Lovely.

Right, out of the way, piggy. Come on.

Now, then...

- Perhaps a bit more?
- Right.

Yes, if we go further along,
we can get the trough in.

Anything, as long as you're happy.

That's done her.

- Ah...
- Home-made stuff, eh?

Rather.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Mm.

Now... (Coughs)

Just a couple of questions, Mr Good.

I think that covers it. Have you any pet hates?

Yes, I can't stand cheap wine.

No.

Mrs Good, I couldn't help noticing your trousers.

Erm... where did you buy them?

Well, I got this leg from C&A
and the rest is from Marks.

Pardon?

- They're mongrels. I made them up myself.
- Oh, I see.

- I see. Very attractive.
- Thank you.

Just one more, Mr Good. If anyone was thinking
of leading your sort of life,

what advice would you give them?

Well, they'd have to marry Barbara first.

They should be convinced of what they're doing,
fit and healthy, and mad enough to be sane.

Yes, I like that.

(Margo knocks gently)

She's here again.

(Margo knocks)

There's someone at the window.

Good heavens, so there is.

Oh, hello, Margo. This is a nice surprise.

Barbara. Tom.

One ball of string as requested.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I didn't know you had company.

Of course not. Mr Coles, Mrs Leadbetter.

Oh, you must be the journalist.
How do you do?

- Er, yes, how do you do?
- That's two Ts in Leadbetter, by the way.

Now, what can I tell you about myself?

Well, I think it's true to say that we are
Tom and Barbara's dearest friends.

By "we" I mean my husband Jeremy
and myself.

Jeremy is an executive in the plastics industry.

I, of course, do not work,
apart from the odd charity.

Hobbies?

Well, it's no secret in Surbiton that I am
one of the leading lights in the music society.

By the way, we're giving The Sound Of Music
at the town hall from the 23rd till the 24th.

Interestingly enough,
Julie Andrews played my role in the film.

Now, I think you may quote me as saying...

You're not writing any of this down.

No, I've got all I need for the article.
It's about Mr and Mrs Good.

Oh, I thought you might want some
background information, some local colour.

No, thank you.

Oh, go on, scoop. Give her a mention.
Margo's played a very important part in all this.

Really?

Yes. After all, she's had to live next door
to a suburban revolution.

- Some would turn nasty. Not Margo.
- Nothing but support and encouragement.

Remember when we started to keep pigs?

A lot of people pooh-poohed the idea
because of the smell.

But Margo didn't, did you?

Well, I've...

Ah, she said,
"If you need pigs, you jolly well have pigs."

Yes. Sorry if I'm going to make you blush
but I'm going to tell Mr Coles about the goat.

- Are you?
- Yes.

Margo has insisted on transporting our goat
to and from the common for grazing

in her own car.

No reservations about the little pile
of black cherries the goat leaves behind.

No. No.

You see, I think you must mention Margo.

Hear, hear to that. Thick and thin, fair weather
or foul, Margo has been there. Like a truss.

What?

A constant source of support.

Yes, I'll... see if I can get that in.

Well, look, I must be on my way.
Thanks very much.

- Goodbye.
- You won't forget The Sound Of Music?

I'll do my best.

- Bye-bye.
- Here we are.

- What an awfully nice man.
- Mm.

- Nice creases in his trousers.
- And he had black shoes.

That all points to him working for
one of the quality newspapers, doesn't it?

(Chuckles) I don't know.
Who'd be a freelance journalist, eh?

Hopping here, dashing there,
writing stuff hoping to flog it.

- A freelance?
- Yes, and he wore black shoes, too.

But which newspaper
is he hoping to sell the article to?

The first to buy it, I suppose.

- Don't you care?
- Not particularly.

- Well, I do.
- Why?

Ooh, not for myself, Barbara.
Don't think that. No.

I just thought you would be interested.

After all, an article about one...

Not about one, about you.

Well, most people would want to see it in print.

Not that l...

Because, after all, but...

Well, I can't sit here all day. I must be off.

I'll see you later.

Thank you for the string, Margo.

TOM: Bye.

That's the trouble with Orientals.
You can never tell what they're thinking.

- Inscrutable.
- Come on. We've got work to do.

All right. Give me the creosote
and I'll finish the job.

I say, I wonder if we will get in the papers.

Why?

You never know.
This might be the beginning of something big.

This time next month, I could be
the centre spread of the Pig Breeder's Gazette.

Hm-hm hm-hm hm. Piglet Of The Month.

MARGO: Jerry, is that the papers?

Yes.

That paper boy must be late for school.

He just emptied the entire contents of his sack
through our letterbox.

No, I ordered them.

Good God, why?

Because I have felt for some time
we should be more catholic in our reading.

I must say, this tabloid trash
doesn't interest me in the slight...

Thank you.

Oh, I see.
It's looking for our name in print time, isn't it?

Nonsense. I'm doing it for Tom and Barbara.
You know they can't afford newspapers.

- Neither can we on this scale.
- (Phone rings)

Hello. 390...

71..64.

What?

Sorry, I can't hear you. It's a bad line.
Could you speak up?

Coles? Yes.

Mr Coles? Yes? Margo Leadbetter speaking.

Ye... I'm sorry, I can't quite hear.

Yes, yes. That's better.

Oh, the article. Yes?

In the what?

The Observer! How wonderful.

Yes, I'll tell them.

Jerry, quick. Run and tell Tom and Barbara
that we are in the quality press. The Observer.

I do find running in the morning so vulgar.

Then walk quickly, Jerry. Only, tell them, please.

Anyway, why can't you go? You're the one
who might have sneaked into one of the photos.

Because I have a million calls to make.

Ah, hello, Miss Mountshaft.

Margo Leadbetter.

Miss Mountshatt, if I hinted that I could get our
little production mentioned in The Observer...

Yes, The Observer.

...might that reawaken your interest
in my design for the programme cover?

Oh. You know, I never really appreciated
the taste of tea till we had to ration it.

- Shame we can't grow it ourselves.
- Yeah.

It's only really camellias.
Maybe ordinary camellias...

No, that's about as sensible
as you thinking we could keep silkworms

and make my stockings from them.

All right.

I'll just use my genius for mending forks.

(Wheezes and coughs)

A lot of fresh air about at this time of day,
isn't there?

Hello, Jerry. You're just in time for elevenses.

You can't have elevenses at half-past eight.

You can, you know. Just get up at six o'clock.

Stop being so damn cheerful,
and looking so damned healthy.

There you are, Jerry, have some tannic acid.

Thank you.

Have you just come round to cheer us up
or did you want something?

Oh, yes, the news.

Your journalist friend just rang.

He's sold you to The Observer, no less.

- No, really?
- Good luck to him.

I bet Margo's pleased.

You'd think she'd just got a mention
in the Court Circular.

Oh, Jerry, I meant to ask you.

- What's a solvent for creosote?
- Isn't it a bit early for crosswords?

No, this is real life drama.

We were spraying the chicken house.

One of them poked his head out
and got it right in the parson's nose.

I don't know. Take it to the launderette.

Why are you talking about chickens?

How would you like to be going about
with creosote all over your bum?

That's not what I meant.

You've just heard you're going to be mentioned
in the national press. It's ego time.

- You couldn't seem to care less.
- There's a reason for that.

- What?
- We couldn't.

- But why?
- Well, what's it worth?

A nice little read that ends up
round a piece of cod and chips.

If the article had been about
Tom's water-skiing...

- Or your creosoting the chickens.
- No, you're missing the point.

"Worth" - you used the word yourself.

"What is it worth?"

You could make on this, you know.

- What are you talking about?
- Here. Top up the tea.

It lubricates the old grey matter.

Ah. I know that expression.

When he looks like that,
he's planning something.

- It looks more like indigestion to me.
- Ssh ssh.

That's it. I've got it.

You two go about looking like a pair of tramps,
don't you?

- Give me my tea back.
- No, no, listen.

You live in what I can only politely describe
as abject poverty.

You mend tools that are only really fit for
the junkyard.

Hands off. My gum's drying.

And there you sit, passing up a golden
opportunity to refurbish yourselves for nothing.

God, look at you.

About as much business acumen as a couple of
characters from The Magic Roundabout.

- What are you going on about?
- I'll try to make it simple.

Look...

You go to local shopkeepers

and you tell them you're about to be featured
in a national newspaper.

This makes you a local celebrity.

If a local celebrity allows local shopkeepers
to use his name for publicity purposes,

he is liable to be showered with free goodies.

You mean Tom and Barbara Good
shop at Hymie Cohen's Chinese Emporium?

- Exactly.
- Oh, get off. I couldn't sell an idea like that.

You couldn't. But I could do it for you.

Truly?

Yes. A perfectly simple business
if you know how to handle it. And I do.

What about it?

- Yes.

All right.
I think you're making a big mistake, Tom.

Wait a minute, wait a minute.

Just because I'm lord and master, and Barbara
my chattel doesn't make my word final.

God, you two are so liberated, aren't you?

I expect you're going to have
a reasoned philosophical discussion.

It's a bit too early in the morning for that.

- Let me know what you've decided tonight.
- OK, Jerry.

- And thanks.
- Bye, now.

I think I'll go and rip out my telephone.

All right, then.
A reasoned philosophical discussion. You first.

- Well, I say yes.
- No.

- Yes.
- No!

- Conkers at 10 paces.
- Now, look, seriously.

It smacks of commercialism.
We've left all that behind.

I think it's just using our initiative,
or Jerry's initiative.

We could do with some new stuff.

It seems dishonest to me.

No. It would be if we tried to stock up with
a lot of things we don't even need.

But we'd only get things like dungarees
and chicken wire, and tools -

things we actually use.

It's still a bit of bunce.
It's not us earning our own reward.

Of course it is.

The article would never have been written if
we'd only grown two tomatoes in a window box.

We're only newsworthy because of our efforts.

If there's any bunce attached,
we've jolly well earned it.

Yes, you're quite right. I was wrong.

You are my idea of a man, do you know that?

I've got no time for all this sexual inequality.

We're partners, equal shares, even Stevens.

Except in one department.

What?

I'm stronger than you are,

and I can pin you to the bed
any time I feel like it.

Rubbish.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Thank you very much.

Thank you.

Morning, morning.
What treats have we in store today?

Take that for me, darling, would you?

Morning. Ah.

Ah-ha. Oh, that can stay there.

I'll take that, don't worry. I've got it.

Thanks very much for your help.

- Morning.
- Mr and Mrs Good?

Appearing in this week's Observer? Yes.

- Sign here.
- Oh, ta.

There we are. Right, wheel it in.

A bit too big for that, guv.

Jerry, have you gone mad?

We told you, only the things we need.

Are we going to sail that around our bath?

No, it's not for you. It's your agent's commission.

(Church bells ring)

Jerry!

- Jerry!
- (Phone rings)

Yes.

Oh, hello, Miss Mountshaft.

Yes, I have seen the newspaper.

But...

No...

No, no, I didn't, Miss Mountshaft.

I did not promise
we would be in the paper at all.

There was never any question of twisting
your arm over the programme cover.

Very well. Take that attitude.

Do the cover the committee chose
in the first place. See if I care.

Jerry!

Coming.

Well? Did they spell Leadbetter with two Ts?

They didn't spell it at all.

I am not in the paper.

Oh, dear. Oh, well, never mind.

Neither are Barbara and Tom.

- Are you sure?
- Of course I'm sure.

Bloody hell!

Language, Jerry. It is Sunday.

Get your hat on.
We'd better go to church and start praying.

(Clears throat)

Good morning.

Tom Good - The Observer's favourite model.

He's wearing a new brushed denim ensemble,

with the latest off the knee Wellingtons

and denies any rumour of romance
with Prince Rainier.

- You don't look right somehow.
- What do you mean?

You're not all rumpled and crumpled,
your old ragbag self.

It's the last time I let you lie in till nine o'clock.

Why aren't you wearing your new dungarees?

I'm saving them for best.
My coming out ball, things like that.

Ah, I see, yes.

I must hand it to Jerry. He knew what he was
talking about. These are lovely things.

- I can't wait to use them.
- I should unwrap them first.

And get them dirty?

I would just like to say, Tom and Barbara,

that this is the last time you involve me
with the gutter press.

Good morning.

I say! What are you talking about?

The fact, Tom, that your so-called journalist's
article has not appeared in The Observer.

You obviously haven't got your copy yet.

- We didn't think we'd bother.
- Why not?

We were at the interview.
We heard what we said.

Don't worry, Margo.
You'll probably be in next week's edition.

This week they probably had important news,
like the pound rallying to 65p.

I'm frightfully sorry about this.
I've had a call from that chap Coles.

Huh!

- The article was in The Observer all right.
- It was not, Jerry. I scanned every inch.

Not of the Ox & Bucks Observer you didn't.

The Ox & Bucks Observer?

Yes.

You mean Margo's alerted the whole of Surbiton
for something that sells three-and-a-half copies.

- Two if it's raining up there.
- Yes.

(Laughs) Sorry.

I think that's priceless.

It's more serious than that, I'm afraid.
Don't you see?

All the shopkeepers who let you have
all this stuff

aren't going to regard the Ox & Bucks Observer
as the national press.

Oh.

You mean Father Christmas is going to want
all his presents back, isn't he?

Thank goodness we haven't played with them.

I can only say I am awfully sorry.

I should think so too,
raising Tom and Barbara's hopes like that.

It's like snatching the food from the mouths
of starving babies.

- Now, see here, Margo...
- One egg or two?

Three, please.

- Don't you insult my hearing.
- Boiled?

- There's nothing wrong with my family's ears.
- Slice of bread and butter?

- No, I'll have soldiers.
- You will mumble deliberately.

- Are Margo and Jerry staying for breakfast?
- I'll ask them.

Thank you very much, Jerry!

- Are you staying for breakfast?
- Don't interrupt, Tom.

I'm so sorry.

Yes, after all, you two are the only ones
who've really suffered.

This must be a hammer blow to your hopes.

Well, a tiny tap, Margo, just a tiny tap.

We were fine two days ago, and we'll be fine
when Jerry takes all the stuff back tomorrow.

- Along with his boat.
- Oh, yes.

Ah, well, never mind.

With trousers like these, who needs new ones?

Exactly. And this stuff over here is OK
but it's soulless, mass-produced.

Now, my old fork, there he is.

There's something of me in that.

This repair wasn't just a man
mending an implement,

it was a friend restoring a friend to health
with affection.

Look at that.

A bloody load of old rubbish.

I told you this fork was no good
when I found it in the shed.

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