All language subtitles for The Good Life s04e06 Sweet and Sour Charity.eng

(Knock at door)

- Oh.
- Hello, Jerry.

It's you two. Hello.

Huh! It's a mirage.

Chips in newspaper in this house?

I like chips in newspaper.

- Margo's out, then?
- Yeah.

Music Society having another
of its summit conferences.

- Kissinger going?
- Should be.

- That's kind of you, Barbara.
- This isn't kind, this is swapsies.

We get a jar of coffee for those.

Would you like some?
Just about to have a cup myself.

Not out of our jar.

- Instant all right?
- Fine.

- I'm worried about you, Jerry.
- Why?

Chips in newspaper, instant coffee,
you're going to the dogs.

Yes, it's the second time in two weeks
you've come home early.

- There's a reason for that.
- Shellshock?

Promotion. Now it's official old sir's
going to retire, I want his job.

I don't follow.

We all know that Snetterton and myself
are the front runners for the job, right?

Ah, and you're planning an assassination.
Abomb in Snetterton's desk, but you're here.

- Alibi - clever.
- Shut up, Tom.

But how does you coming home early
put you a point up on Snetterton?

Well, he's making a great show
of putting in extra hours.

So I decided to prove I didn't need extra hours.

- A sort of reverse crawling.
- Exactly.

And you've got such an honest face as well.

Well, at least it's all my own.

There's a rumour that a few years ago
Snetterton had a nose job.

Because his original one made him look shifty.

(Laughter)

Yes, makes the Borgias
look like a really nice crowd.

- High stakes, Tom.
- Yes. Yes, indeed. You're so right, yes.

Sir-dom is not to be sneered at.

If I'd remained with the firm
I dare say I'd be up for the job myself.

If you think that you're really up the creek.

Whilst I think of it,
has Margo kept her newspapers for us?

Yes, they're over there.

- You going into the waste paper business?
- They're for the pigs.

A bit young for that sort of reading, aren't they?

Bedding. We've run of straw,
so we're using shredded paper.

You're not the only one with a business brain.

- (Door slams)
- Margo!

What?

In here, darling.

Oh. Good evening, Jerry.

- Barbara, Tom.
BOTH: Hello, Margo.

Did you manage to dig up anything
on Snetterton's nose?

- Nothing concrete.
- I thought you said it was plastic.

That's right, laugh. But if I get the dirt
on Snetterton's nose, could be my trump card.

- This conversation is getting bizarre.
- Margo, would you like some coffee?

No, not instant, thank you, Barbara.

I shouldn't worry, Jerry.
I'm confident you'll get the job.

- Oh, why?
- Because you're the better man.

Thank you, darling.
How did the Music Society meeting go?

I'd rather not talk about it, thank you.

- Howl detest anarchy.
- In the Music Society?

Yes.

We met to decide on our next production
and I was outvoted.

That's democracy.

Not when a certain faction rides roughshod
over artistic integrity.

- The Merry Widow is a fine show.
- What does this other faction want to do?

Sweet Charity.

- Well, that's a good show too.
- It's got a bit more "go" to it.

It doesn't have more "go" to it at all.
Sweet Charity is vulgar, debased and nasty.

- Oh, Margo!
- ltis.

How can it be anything else
when the heroine is a dancehall hostess

who is little more than a common tart?

We saw the film, I thought it was touching.
Granted, Charity had put it about a bit.

There you are. You see the coarseness
that the very mention of the show engenders.

You say it's only a faction that wants to do this.
Couldn't you rally the opposition?

- Why not?

Because I am the only one who opposed it.

Rather a big faction, isn't it?

The TUC is a big faction
and you know what I think of them.

- Who's going to play Charity, Margo?
- They want me to, of course.

I thought you'd find that funny.

I think you should, darling. A leads a lead.

Yes, you'd be terrific.

You're the only soprano they've got
with a figure to play a girl like that.

- I don't want to play "a girl like that".
- It's only pretend.

It's smut.

- Well, then, clean it up a bit.
- How?

Well, let's see.
Charity works in a dancehall, doesn't she?

A so-called dancehall, yes.

All right, so what about making her
a ballroom-dancing teacher?

Goon.

Blimey, that's wholesome enough, isn't it?

Yes, but she's ashamed
of what she does in the original,

that's why she tells a chap she works in a bank.

Yeah, well, she'd be ashamed that
the dancing school charge enormous prices.

Instead of confessing that she put it about a bit -
sorry, Margo -

she could confess that she had had a
mild flirtation with a torrid tango teacher.

And then the chap forgives her
and they tango off into the sunset.

To start a new life
as missionaries in New Guinea.

(Chuckles)

You're making fun, aren't you?

- Alittle bit.
- Aren't you taking it a little bit seriously?

- No, I don't.
- What was that vote?

68101.

I do wonder, though,

whether some judicious pruning might not erase
the more unwholesome aspects of the show.

Margo, if you take out the unwholesome aspects
you haven't got a show.

Anyway, can you do that sort of thing? Might not
the people who wrote it have something to say?

- Neil Simon wrote the film, didn't he?
- I didn't know you were a film buff,

No, I'm not. I enjoyed it
and happened to notice the credits.

Did you notice the credits because Shirley
MacLaine flashed her legs all through them?

That may have had something to do with it.

I'm a leg man myself.
I remember Cyd Charisse...

- I'm going to start dinner now.
- Yes...

Yes, and we've got the pigs to clean out.
Come on, leg-fancier.

Oh, all right. All right.

You could play Sweet Charity, you know.
You've got the wiggle.

Might have to if Margo won't.

Well, you can see her problem, can't you?
What would the neighbours say?

- What would Mrs Weaver say?
- Not much. She's left.

Has she? That was quick. When?

- About two weeks ago.
- Oh, I thought it had gone a bit quiet.

- (Squawking)
- Lenin, don't be disgusting.

I say,
the oil tank for her central heating is still half full.

There must be 200 gallons still in there.

- (Grunts)
- Goon.

Hey, big spender?

- What?
- Spend a little time with me.

Lucky everyone takes the posh papers
round here.

They're so much bigger than the ones
that sell more copies.

Yeah.

Mind you, we can buy some straw
when we sell our next pig.

Yeah.

Won't be for some time yet, though.

No.

In the meantime,
I've just torn the French ambassador in half.

No.

You're going to have the pattern off that plate
in a minute.

What? Oh! (Chuckles)

Yes... No.. I've er...

- I've just been thinking, actually.
- I gathered that.

- And I've had an idea.
- I hope so.

- You've been standing there for over an hour.
- Now, listen, love.

Thanks.

Oh. Sorry.

That's an oven glove.

Oh. Sorry.

That's a tea towel. Oh, never mind.

We better get this idea talked about.

You'll be sticking me in the range
and going to bed with a log.

What? Oh, yes. Yes.

Just a sec.

Now, then.

Could you just stop doing that for a minute?

Now, look... Just put... Look, leave...

Just now... Leave... leave it alone.

No. Would you put it down? Put it down!

Do you mind moving up?
I'm practically in the range.

- Now, listen. Are you listening?
- Yes.

Well, it's that oil in Mrs Weaver's tank, you see.

- What about it?
- Well, must be worth quite a lot of money.

I mean, say, 200 gallons, well...

- What's that worth these days?
- No idea.

Well... about a hundred pounds at least.

Yes. So?

- It's just lying there.
- There's not much else oil can do, is there?

Then I got to thinking about Mr Greaves,
you know, the farmer we got our wool from.

Have you been inhaling creosote again?

Seriously.

Mr Greaves uses oil-fired central heating
for his calves.

Now I reckon he'd happily swap
some nice bales of straw for 200 gallons of oil.

- Quite a lot of straw, in fact.
- Tom!

Well, it's just lying there.

Mrs Weaver didn't want it
or she'd have taken it with her.

Well, of course she didn't take it with her.

I don't suppose removal firms are equipped
with tankers.

So whose is it then?

Well, it isn't ours.

It would be if we siphoned it off.

You spiv!

What do you mean "spiv"?

Well, you'll be getting a camel-haired coat
and a black trilby next.

What are you going to do,
stand in the corner and say,

"Psst! Want to buy some oil
that fell off the back of a lorry?"

I told you what I'd use it for - as an honest swap
for something that we need.

You can't have an honest swap
if you've stolen the oil in the first place.

- I don't like the word stolen.
- What would you call it?

Acquired.

But that's like saying fibber instead of liar,
it's the same thing.

- It isn't.
- How?

They're spelt differently.

You can't steal something
that doesn't belong to anybody.

You don't know that.

- Do.
- You think you do.

- Yes, I think I do.
- You want to think you do.

All right, I want to...
No, that isn't it at all. It's obvious.

Yes, it is obvious to someone's who's just
dismissed stealing and fencing all in one go.

Why not pop up to her roof
and have the lead off it, while you're at it?

- You're very irrational sometimes.
- No, I'm not.

I just don't believe in stealing by finding
and neither do you.

But if we siphoned it off at night,
no-one would ever know.

We'd know.

- It's like living with George Washington.
- I'm right, though.

- Listen, we could use some straw.
- I know we could!

All right, then, you think of something.

Go on, go on. Huh!

All right.

- An early night?
- Oh, come off it

I'm not being distracted by that old ploy.

Mind you, I do have to get up early tomorrow.

(Whistles)

Oh!

MARGO: Thank you very much.
- (Door closes)

- Early caller?
- An emissary from the Music Society.

Miss Mountshaft's brother-in-law
with the steel plate in his head.

What did he want? Some metal polish?

No.

Having successfully proved
to be the Society's most inept producer,

he is now trying to show an equal non-flair
as our costume designer.

"I thought you should be the first to see
our costume designs, Mrs Leadbetter,

as we already think of you
as our own Sweet Charity." Little sycophant.

And worse. A deviate.

- What's he drawn?
- See for yourself.

Hm. They're all right.
Not very well drawn, but all right.

All right? Costumes like these are fit only
for some back alley, striptease club.

- They're just dresses.
- Call those dresses?

Slits and frills and plunging necklines?

Dustbin designs. And from a dustbin mind.

It's that steel plate. It's making him funny.

Give the man a chance,
they're for Sweet Charity after all.

You can't have the girls going about in
the nuns' habits left over from Sound Of Music.

They were supposed to persuade me
to play the lead.

- And [ think you should, darling.
- Why?

You're not a "buried in the back row
of the chorus" sort of person.

That is true.

The fact remains that I disapprove of us
doing the show at all.

And these aberrations
have confirmed my worst suspicions.

- Well, don't do it, then.
- That's easy for you to say.

You haven't poured the hours of sheer
hard labour into the Society that I have.

I'll admit that, yes.

And if my reward is being asked to prance
around on the stage of the town hall,

wearing red sequins and black stockings...

Black stockings.

- What do you mean?
- Nothing.

Why did you say black stockings
with that moon-faced expression?

- I happen to like black stockings, that's all.
- I see.

And you have some fantasy about wanting to
see your wife dance about in them

in front of half of Surbiton.

- Of course I haven't.
- Playing the tart. That is sinister, Jerry.

Oh, for heaven's sake.

Look, I don't give a damn
whether you have this part or not.

All I said in all innocence was
I happen to like stockings. All right?

Why have you never mentioned
this fetish before?

Itisn't a fetish.

Heaven's sake you used to wear them yourself
before the advent of these awful tights.

No, well, you don't often talk about
that sort of thing.

And just as well if that's the sort of thing
those discussions would produce.

See you tonight, darling.

I think you ought to see a doctor, Jerry.

I think you're in grave danger
of becoming some sort of pervert.

Of course we discussed it sensibly. Then I called
Jerry a pervert and he went to work.

I don't blame him.

Well, perhaps the word was excessive, Barbara,
but I was shocked.

Why?

Well, I mean...

What? What do you mean?

Well, isn't it obvious?

No. All you've told me so far
is Jerry likes stockings.

That's no news. Most men do.

How do you know?

Come on, Margo. We all know.

We took to tights because
they're more comfortable, practical,

but we all know blokes think stockings sexier.

- We're the ones who have to wear them.
- They'd look silly in them, wouldn't they?

Honestly, I don't know what
you're in such a state about.

You're not going to tell me you've never worn
something because Jerry fancies you in it?

Yes.

No.

- I may have.
- Good.

But stockings, they have overtones.

Oh, rubbish!

I mean, I could understand it if he wanted you to
wear a diver's helmet or a suit of armour.

Barbara!

Anyway, Margo, you're missing the point.

If your husband fancies you in something
that's nice. That's a compliment.

I mean, Tom...

Yes?

Never mind. I think...

If you take my advice, what you will do
the next time you go shopping

is buy a pair of black stockings.

I'm beginning to think the world has gone mad.

Well, you did ask me.

I know, but what if Jerry...

Margo, I have said my piece for what it's worth.
There's an awful lot to do.

If you don't mind,
I've got to put something on for Tom.

- What?
- Nettles?

I'm making some more dye.
So if you don't mind...

Oh, yes. Of course.

- Have a think.
- Yes.

Ah, hello, Margo. You look nice.

You've got one-track minds, haven't you?

What was all that about?

Ah. Margo didn't approve
of the costume designs for the show.

I'm not surprised.

She'd win the Prude of the Year Award.

True.

- I bet she does it, though.
- Does what?

Plays the lead. She might be bristling
with principles about something she equates

with appearing at Raymond's Revue Bar,

but if it's a choice between that and her being
the star her principles will go out of the window.

I don't know.

Well, I do, and I'm always right.

Well, there is that.

Do you want anything
because I've got this dyeing to do?

Yes, there is something. That oil.

Oh, Tom, I thought we'd settled that.

- We had, but there's been a development.
- What?

Some filthy swine has been pinching it.

- How do you know?
- I've just been to check the gauges...

It's nearly half gone. It's halfway down.

- Well, who could that be?
- I don't know. But I think it's disgusting.

You were all ready to pinch the stuff yourself
last night.

That's different. I had a worthwhile motive.
The care of our pigs.

I suppose whoever else is pinching it
has got a worthwhile motive.

- They're hardly likely to drink it.
- They're not getting any more!

Why?

- Because we are.
- Oh, you can justify that now, of course!

Yes, I can. What's sauce for the goose
is... is... gander for the other.

Why should we sit about being all fine and good
when someone else is pinching the stuff?

Boy, when you go blind in one eye,
you really go blind in one eye.

What?

Well, honestly, you have the cheek to talk about
Margo compromising her principles

and you are doing the same thing.

What...?

(Sighs)

You certainly know how to hit below the belt,
don't you?

Only when you're wrong.

Which isn't very often.

You little rat.

It is a shame, though.
Could have used that straw.

I know.

And if that oil doesn't actually have an owner...?

I mean, it's not included
in the price of the house.

The devil is at your elbow, my child.

If only we could be sure.

- You aren't half thick.
- Why?

Because you didn't think of
the obvious thing to do.

Neither did you if it's only just occurred to you.

All right. Now, listen.

It's obvious. We simply phone Mrs Weaver
later on and ask her about the oil.

Margo's bound to have her new number.

Brilliant.

Quite.

And if that oil is going spare,
and somebody else is pinching it,

I'm going to be out there with a pitchfork.

- Pitchfork's no good, you know.
- Why?

You can't lift oil with a pitchfork.

What are you doing with nettles?

Oh, no. No, no. Now, now...

Ow! That hurt!

You hadn't been waiting long, had you?
Just been out doing a little shopping.

Now, the thing is, Margo.
May we use your telephone?

- Yes, of course.
- Have you got Mrs Weaver's new number?

Yes, I have. She's Esher now.

- Nice, Esher.
- Yes.

- There is the racecourse, of course.
- Of course.

- Here we are.
- Ta.

- No, I have a proviso.
- What?

This telephone call,

it hasn't anything to do with organising waste
paper or manure collections in Esher, has it?

- Nothing at all.
- Oh, good.

You see,
Mrs Weaver was a very good neighbour

and I wouldn't want you to turn her into
a social pariah at one stroke.

No, we only want to ask her if she wants
the rest of the oil in her tank.

Oh, I see. If not, you could use it on your range
or something.

Something like that, yes.

- Well, in that case...
- Ah, thanks.

We could have helped ourselves of course,
but we couldn't do that.

- Oh, of course not.
- One does have principles.

Indeed one does.

And sometimes one has to make sacrifices
to hold fast to them.

One does, one certainly does.

Yes, so you see,
if Mrs Weaver says we can't have the oil,

one is just going to grin and bear it.

Isn't one?

Of course one is.
One has just said so, hasn't one?

Nevertheless, one sometimes feels...

I'm not going to play Charity, you know.

- Eh?

I've thought and thought about it,
but the fact remains,

I disapprove of the subject
and I cannot be a part of it.

Oh, they'll protest, I know they will.

I would too, at the thought of Miss Hopper
having to play the lead.

She's never lost that limp, you know.

Oh, well,
Full marks for sticking to your guns, Margo.

- Thank you.
- I think you're crackers, but full marks.

Well, er... what part are you playing, Margo?

None.

- Not even prompter?
- Certainly not prompter.

- No, I'll make it quite clear where I stand.
- A long way away.

Exactly. And the others can get on with it
and I wish them well.

And [ hope it's the total disaster
it deserves to be.

But, Margo, turning down the lead.

The first night, your name in lights.
Well, paint. I can't believe it.

You should do, Tom.
We were just talking about principles.

Oh, yes. Of course we were.
You're absolutely right, Margo. Of course.

I'll go and phone Mrs Weaver.

There are not too many of us left,
you know, Margo.

- Oh, well, there's always the next production.
- I'd set my heart on The Merry Widow.

Never mind.

Oh, well, Jerry will be home in a moment.
I really had better start preparing dinner.

Oh, erm, pass me my basket, will you?

Oh, yes. Of course.

- Margo?
- What?

- You've got some black stockings.
- Oh, give me that.

If you're not going to play Sweet Charity, that...

- I just thought they'd go with my black dress.
- Really?

Yes, I must start dinner.

Good old, Mrs Weaver. What a nice woman.
Good old wealthy Mrs Weaver.

- She said yes?
- Yes.

It's not on the price of the house,
she doesn't want it.

- No more pigs getting covered in print.
- When do we siphon it off?

- First thing tomorrow morning.
- What if that unprincipled chap comes back?

- Good thinking.
- We'll do it now.

Hello.

- Margo!
- Good evening, Jerry.

At least she's still speaking to me.

- Bad day?
- Disaster.

- London Bridge?
- No. Snetterton's nose.

It's genuine.

Oh, nose!

It's no laughing matter. As if that wasn't enough,
he definitely went one up at lunch time.

I thought I'd score, you see,
by ordering a decent bottle of claret.

- Sir likes claret.
- Good move.

That's what I thought. Then that swine
Snetterton would only drink mineral water.

Because he likes to keep his head clear
for the afternoon.

- This campaign is getting dirty.
- It will get dirtier. I'll see to that.

- Anyone else in a sorrow-drowning mood?
- No, thanks. We have work to do. See you later.

Never mind, Jerry. I have a feeling the evening
is definitely going to get better as it goes on.

Why?

Well, never mind, I just have.

Jenry!

(Engine running)

OK, Fatima, let's go into the oil business.

Right.

- Tube.
- Tube.

Right.

This is the one part of siphoning
I definitely do not like.

Do you want me to do it?

- Yes.
- I shan't.

Thanks.

Nothings happening.

Suck harder.

I have.

Wait a minute.

The tank's empty! Somebody's had it!

How? We've been here all day.

Well, oil doesn't just walk away by itself, does it?
Get the tube.

Have you got it? Take it.

- Got it?
- Mm.

Right.

Uh... Oh!

- Tom, honestly!
- Its all right. I'll climb down this way now.

Oh!

(Whirring)

(Motor starts)

(Revs motor)

Now's what's the matter?

- We seem to be sinking.
- What?

(Motor off)

We seem to be sinking.

Nobody stole any oil at all. I's draining away!
The stupid tank sprung a leak.

- What a shame.
- Shame?

It's more than a shame. It's leaked into the soil.
It will ruin it!

Perhaps it's just a patch.

Look, it's firm enough here.

See?

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