All language subtitles for Porridge s01e01 Between.eng

Nigel Norman Fletcher, you have been
found guilty of the charges

brought against you, and it is now
my duty to pass sentence.

DOORS SLAM, LOCKS CLICK

Cybercrime is a modern menace,

and a man of your obvious

ingenuity and intelligence

might have used his gifts
on behalf of society.

LOCKS CLICK, BUZZER

Instead, you chose to employ them

in a pursuit of self-indulgence,

greed and gain.

LOCK CLICKS AND BEEPS

You will now face the consequences
and go to prison for five years.

DOOR SLAMS

Is your wife still keeping up with AA?

Yeah, but it's a bit difficult,
cos she's doing OA as well.

What's that?

Overeaters Anonymous.

And she's got NA, Narcotics Anonymous.

Has she got a job yet?

Well, she's applied
for something at the FA.

What one's that?

Football Association,

but I don't think she'll get it.

She's got to apply for her
job-seeker's allowance.

Oh, how does she go about that?

Well, she needs to go down the
job centre, tell her to take her

P45 with her, and she's going to
fill out a form or two.

She's got to take some sandwiches,
cos she'll be there three days.

Cheers, Fletch. I owe you.

I know. It's in the book.

Next.

My Sheila liked your letter -
going to come for a visit.

Oh, that's great, Loomis.

Yeah. Can you do another one for Gail?

Who's that? Old flame?

No, no. It's my wife.

Oh, you're on fire, aren't you?

What's he in for, bigamy?

No, he's an arsonist.

You wrote a letter to my wife Gwynneth.

- Did I?
- Owen.

- Owen.
- Ten days ago.

She's written back.
Can you read it for me, please?

You know, if there's a queue, Owen,
you don't have to wait for me.

Just give it to one of the screws.
They read all the mail.

That's shocking, that.

I don't want them being privy to
my innermost thoughts.

Well, they're my innermost thoughts,
because I wrote it for you.

Let's have a look, shall we?

"Dear Owen, I read your letter
and apreciate..." Only one P.

"..that you are so in remorse
for what you've done.

"Trouble is,
you had done what you'd done before

"and you'd done it before that,

"and my fear is you'll do it again,

"just like you had done
all those other times."

What does she mean by that?

She thinks you're an
incorrigible recidivist.

A what?

She thinks you've done it before.

Hold on, there's more.

"I've decided I will visit you,
even though the girls at the salon

"advise against it,
on account of what you done,

"and the last time you done it, you

done it during the national anthem."

- You didn't, did you?
- I couldn't help myself.

"PS, your spelling's improved.

"Good to see you're learning
something inside."

Case closed. That's you done.

All right, Bluebeard? Sit down.

What can I do for you?

I want my brother killed.

Oh, yeah?

And when do you want this to happen?

Christmas Eve.

This is Fletcher's Friday Clinic,
you muppet.

You want Murder Incorporated -
they're over on E wing.

I think I need a break after that.

You know, considering
we don't do any killing,

we're making a killing!

Yeah, well, if I can help
someone as I pass along...

Just make sure they all pay up.
Get us a cup of tea.

I'm Barry, Barry Mayhew.

All right, Barry?
You're new, aren't you?

- How are you holding up?
- Yeah, keeping it together, just.

It's rough sometimes, mate,

but remember, the first two years
are the worst.

Well, that's some consolation.

I'm just geeing you up. Sit down.

You look seriously stressed, Barry.

You can't do that.
You've got to put up a front,

and you've got to walk the walk,

otherwise they'll all
think you're a fraggle.

Fraggle?

Someone who's vulnerable.

Oh, right, yeah, cheers.

The thing is, I need a favour.

Well, it'd better not be
a fiscal favour.

I can't put my hands on any money

till I get out of here
and find a shovel.

No, I need you to write me a letter.

I've been watching you,
listening to you

when you're talking to the others,

you know, and you've obviously got a
way with words,

and I don't...

have a way with words.

So I see. Letter to your brief?

Girlfriend. Well, ex.

Listen, do you know enough to
know how it works in here?

Yeah, do you want sweets,
soap or smokes?

Well, currency of any sort,
but phone credit's my favourite.

This is her.

Mmm. Pretty girl.

Yeah. I let her down real bad,
and I just need to...

Convey the extent of your remorse?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, and make her
realise, like, that I'm...

Consumed by guilt?

Can't sleep at night knowing you've
betrayed her trust? Yeah. Yeah?

You seem like a nice
enough fella, Barry.

Tell me, why did it all go wrong
with... what's her name? Joanne.

Joanne. I went out with a Joanne once.

She left me for a lady contortionist
at the Cirque du Soleil.

Talk about getting
your knickers in a twist.

I ripped off her parents' life savings.

Oh. I was hoping for something
simple like bonking her mate.

I had this sure-fire deal,
couldn't miss -

property development.

I persuaded her old man to come in
on it. We'd make a bomb, I told him.

All went tits up. They lost everything.

Market crashed?

No, it made a fortune,
but then I embezzled it.

Bit of an uphill, Barry,
getting Joanne back on your side.

I just want to express my shame
and self-loathing.

That's good. Get that down.

You know, this reminds me of
my own situation.

I had a girlfriend with expensive
tastes once called Davina.

Would you not forgive you?
Forgiveness didn't come into it.

As soon as I got collared,

she left me for some Argentinian
tool who plays for Man City.

Who?

Esteban.

Esteban? He had a
blinder against Stoke.

Yeah.

My greatest hope is that he'll get
a transfer to Shakhtar Donetsk.

She won't find a Prada store there.

DOOR SLAMS

BUZZER

What are you writing, Norm?

- I'm writing a letter from the heart.
- Uh-huh?

Not my heart,
some bloke called Barry's.

He went for his fiancee's folks'
savings. Needs to explain.

Needs closure.

Needs a bloody good belting,
if you ask me.

Come on, Joe, we've all
let someone down...

wives, girlfriends, families...

He thought he was doing right
by them, but he lost the lot.

The dad drives an Uber now.

Ah, well, swindlers we called them
back in my day.

Con artists. Spivs.

Sneaky crims, you know?

We're all crims, Joe.

Oh, no. No, there's a difference.

Folk like me, we are robbers.

We're a cut above, cos we do banks
and warehouses and wages vans,

and that needs prep,
application and graft,

and there's something noble in that.

Oh, yeah, very noble -
an old-school cosh over the head.

There's nothing wrong with old-school.

Cos let me tell you something about
back then-people connected.

They talked, and I don't just
mean on Facebook.

I mean face-to-face.

Huh, and a pint was two bob
and a packet of fags was half that.

Ah, I never had to buy a pint.

Every time we walked into the pub,
it was drinks on the house,

and do you know why?

Cos you were holding
a sawn-off shotgun?

No, you prannock,

because we had a reputation.

We weren't pickpockets or perverts.

We were a business.

I went down to London once
and the Kray brothers took us to

The Talk Of The Town.

Liza Minnelli...

I've still got the programme somewhere.

You've had your moments, Joe.
Great memories.

Yeah, there's some things
you just never forget.

What is it?

It could have been Shirley Bassey.

Nice wee racket you've got here,
Fletcher.

I don't know what you're
talking about, Mr Meekie.

I've seen them lining up
for your advice...

the lovelorn and the lost, the
no-hopers and the not-guilty club.

Well, they're all entitled
to an appeal.

All Fletch does is find
the right words.

You're helping young Mayhew, I gather?

I don't see why not.
He's not a bad lad.

Of course he's a bad
lad-that's why he's in here!

Just a letter to his girlfriend, is it?

Uh... That is not on.

He'll read it before I send it,
anyways. What's the point?

Some of these phrases seem familiar.

"The smouldering embers of our love"...

quite similar to your letter to
the arsonist's mistress.

Well, it did some good.

He hasn't set fire to
his mattress since then.

Here we go, Jacko.

I've written a letter to the
Court of Appeal on your behalf.

I have made it clear that
you were wrongly convicted

and nowhere near the scene of the
crime on the date in question.

That's what I was saying...
I was stitched up...

and when I get out of here,
I'm going to sue the Government.

Well, that'll be extra.

- He robbed a betting shop, didn't he?
- Allegedly.

What do you think his chances are?

Well, seeing as he wasn't wearing

a mask and there were 22
eyewitnesses, I'd say 1,000 to 1.

Your letter didn't work, mate.
She doesn't want to know.

Oh. That was one of my best efforts.
Bit of a masterpiece, I thought.

She didn't even open it.

Says she doesn't want to
read anything I write

or hear anything I have to say.

Not good, Fletch. He's due a refund.

Oi, I'll be the judge of that!

I'll tell you what,
I'll write to her from me.

How will that work?

Well, she'll have to read the letter
out of sheer curiosity.

I will state your case in sincere
and eloquent prose, tell her how

much you're hurting and how much a
visit could help to heal old wounds.

Worth a try, I suppose.

Yeah. Leave it with me, Barry.

You perform quite a service here,
don't you, Fletcher?

I like to think so, Mr Braithwaite.
Pull up a chair.

Tell me your problems. Unload.
Usual rates apply.

I haven't got any problems.

Yeah, could have fooled me.

Come again?

- Want a cup of tea?
- Oh, lovely.

No, I'm quite content with my life,
Fletcher.

Married 23 years,
both kids went to uni...

Yes, it's all very settled.

Oh. You can't settle for settled,
Mr Braithwaite.

Your old lady'll get tired of it.

Now she's free of kids, all of her
hidden yearnings could come out.

What hidden yearnings?

Oh, we all have them.

You'll get home one evening,
there'll be a note on the fridge,

"Sorry, dear,
but I've had enough of settled.

"Remember that nice young man
who fixed our roof?

"Well, we've bought a camper van
and we're off to explore the world,

"and each other.

"PS, there's a chicken casserole
in the oven.

"Preheat at 180. Goodbye."

No, no, no. No.

Really?

Yeah. You've got to keep things
buzzing, Mr Braithwaite.

You've got to surprise her.
Well, how do I do that?

Well, get home early tonight
before she does.

Get a good bottle of wine
and stick it in a bucket of ice.

A box of expensive chocolates
wouldn't go amiss.

Oh, how expensive?
Are we talking Celebrations?

Well, no.
You've got to push the boat out.

Terry's All Gold it is.

Whatever. Anyway, dim the lights.

Buble or Bacharach on the sound system.

She comes in.

You suggest she relax in a hot bath
with a chilled glass of wine,

but you've already run the tub.

You see, you've surrounded it
with scented candles,

giving off an atmosphere
of seduction and sensuality.

She had a bath on Tuesday.

- She wrote back.
- Who?

Joanne, Mayhew's ex - wants a visit.

Oh, I thought that was the idea.

No, she wants to see me, not Barry.

She said, "I'm curious to know
why anyone would want to stick up

- "for him as much as you do."
- And will you see her?

Well, I don't see why not.

It can only help,
arguing his case face-to-face,

and she's got a very pretty face.

Oh. I can see where this is leading.

No, you don't.

Should I tell him?

I probably should,
but I don't think I will.

Maybe after, if it goes well.

If it doesn't go well, no harm done.

So, don't say anything, all right?

Oh, it's none of my business.

I used to get women visitors
when I was in Parkhurst -

women that I'd never met
and never heard of.

I think they were titillated
by the thought of meeting

a real bank robber.

Well, it does happen. Mm-hmm.

Even lifers get marriage proposals.

Did you ever get to conjugate
with any of them?

Oh, no, I didn't fancy that.

What, in a cold little room
with one gas fire

and the screw's eye at the peephole?

Nah.

Well, there was a prison officer
that took a fancy to me.

She really liked me.

- Yeah?
- How much?

Once a week in the boiler room
and twice on Sundays.

No!

DOOR CLOSES

- I'm Fletch.
- Yeah, I thought you probably were.

Yeah. Have you got another name?

Nigel. Nigel?

You do not look like a Nigel.

- What do Nigels look like?
- I don't know, just not you.

I bet you don't get many
Nigels in the nick.

No. I always thought it'd sound all
right if I ever got a knighthood.

Sir Nigel Fletcher -

It's got a nice ring to it,
like an ambassador,

or that bloke who ripped off
all those pension funds.

So, why did you write
those letters for Barry?

I thought you didn't read the first
one. Well, of course I read it,

and I knew that he hadn't written it.

And then you read the one from me.

Yeah, and you used a lot of
the same material, didn't you?

I'm a great believer in recycling.

I was very touched
by your letter, Owen.

"I only hope the smouldering embers
of our love can be rekindled."

You've never used words
like that before.

They were from the heart, Gwynneth.

It doesn't alter the fact you've
done things you shouldn't have done.

I haven't done them of late.

I should hope not. Not in here!

"The only fire I now want to start
is one in your heart.

"I only hope the smouldering embers
of our love can be rekindled."

That's poetry, Brian.

No, it's plagiarism.

So, what do you do, Joanne?

This and that. I went to uni.

That didn't really open any doors.

And then I took a gap year out,
sold a bit of jewellery online...

I'm still finding my way.

You could be a model.

- What?- Nothing.

- Are you hitting on me, Nigel?
- No.

I thought you were here to argue
Barry's case.

I do. I am. Erm...

Look, he wants to see you, eye-to-eye,

and explain how sorry he is
for everything that's happened,

so maybe next time you could
come and see him, yeah?

Well, I'll think about it.

So, am I allowed to know
what you're in here for?

I was a computer hacker.

Oh, so you're clever, then, eh?

I'm not that clever, Joanne.
I wouldn't be in here if I was.

No, I'd be partying in Miami,
or on a catamaran in the Grenadines,

or buying a gorgeous girl a glass
of Pinot Grigio in a local wine bar.

I prefer a cheeky cocktail.

FLETCH WHIMPERS

Dangerous game you're
playing, Fletcher.

What game?

The one with Mayhew's lass.

Shades of Cyrano De Bergerac.

Didn't he used to play for Watford?

It was a famous play
and more than one film.

Oh, yeah. Isn't he the
geezer with the long nose?

Precisely.

It made him repellent to women,

but he was a poet who penned
beautiful verse,

so much so that his friend asked him
to write letters to a young woman

he was madly in love with.

The problem was, Cyrano fell for her,

and the words he wrote
were from HIS heart.

I don't see any comparison.

I hardly know her
and my nose is normal.

It'll be interesting to see
how this plays out.

Cheers, Fletch. Worked a treat.

Lit a spark, did it?

Oh, and I liked your girlfriend.

She's not my girlfriend.

Not how it looked from where I was sat.

She could light my fire, though,
no question.

You know, if that wall wasn't
so high, we'd have a view.

If that wall wasn't so high, Joe,

people would be pole vaulting
over it all day long.

You'd have to find a pole to
vault with first.

I bet you could lash one up
in the workshop, I suppose,

but where would you stash it?

I love these pointless conversations.

I think that's what I'm going to
miss most when I get out of here.

Hey, how about a big window?

I mean, it'd have to be bulletproof,
of course,

but then we could see things.

Trees, cows in the fields,

a midwife on a bicycle...

A tantalising glimpse
of her grey stocking.

I'd settle for that at my age.

Hey, I don't get it.

How come she comes up here
and sees you and not me?

- Those were Joanne's terms, Barry.
- Why?

Don't bark down my throat.

Look, I arranged for her
to take a phone call from you.

- You did? Really?
- Yeah, really.

Huh. Well, what am I
going to say to her?

Well, the sort of thing I've been
saying to her so far.

Oh, you have to help me.
I'll get tongue-tied and muck it up.

Well, we'll think of something.

Thanks, Fletch. You're a ledge.

What are you thinking about?

Cyrano De Bergerac.

Yeah, Arsenal were mad to sell him.

LOCK CLICKS

"I've thought about hearing
your voice for so long."

Oh, I'm freaked, Fletch.
My heart's racing. My mouth's dry.

Don't worry, I'll talk you through it,

and remember, calm but contrite.

Joanne. Yeah, it's me.

Oh, yeah,
I guess you know that, yeah. Erm...

Yeah, no, thanks for taking
the... Erm...

Yeah, no, I'm fine.

Yeah, I'm just a bit thrown,
to hear your voice, you know?

I can't read my own writing.

I've thought about hearing
your voice for so long.

I've thought about hearing
your voice for so long.

I've thought about seeing you,
seeing your face.

I've thought about seeing you,
seeing your face.

Not that your face has ever
been out of my mind.

Not that your mind has ever
been out of my face.

I love the way your hair
folds over your cheek,

and your chin dimples when you smile.

I love the way your hair folds
over your cheek, and, erm...

Your chin dimples when you smile.

And your chin dimples when you smi...

What? No. Fletch isn't here.
What gives you that idea?

No, it's just me talking. Yeah.

All right, I'll give him your regards.

- He's a great bloke, Fletch.
- He's a great bloke, Fletch.

More to him than meets the eye.

More to him than meets the eye.

He's kind, sensitive, smart...

Why is this all about you?

What's that? Oh, yeah, magic, babes.
Yeah, next week.

Yeah, I'll put in the application.

I just want to work it out.

Right, yeah. Bye.

She's coming to visit.

What you wanted.
All down to you, Fletch.

She still sounds a bit wary,
so, you know,

we have got a lot of work to do,
haven't we?

There's no we, Barry.
You're on your own.

- I can't do this any more.
- But...

No, words don't matter,
or how clever they are.

What matters is if you mean them.

It has to be from the heart.
That's how it works.

LOCK CLICKS

Mission accomplished, Fletcher?

Sorry, Mr Meekie?

Oh, it was the outcome you wanted,
surely.

I can't help thinking you don't look
too chipper about it, though.

Were my predictions correct?

Is it Fletcher who's smitten?

They should call you Cyrano, Mr Meekie,

cos you're always poking your nose
in other people's business.

DOORS SLAM

Hey, remember that conversation
we had about a midwife on a bicycle?

Well, I had a dream about one
last night,

and then suddenly she started
looking a lot like Joan Collins.

I mean, what's that all about?

- I have absolutely no idea, Joe.
- DEODORANT HISSES

Oh, have you got a visit?

Cousin Harriet-married
to a bloke called Reg.

Works in sewage reclamation.

She's a nice girl, but she's not
the sharpest tool in the box.

- And why does she want to see you?
- How should I know?

Probably wants my
advice-Everyone else does.

- Why are you so tetchy?
- Who says I'm tetchy?

I know tetchy. You're tetchy.

Let me guess why...

It wouldn't have something to do
with Joanne, I suppose?

Who?

Oh, don't give me that.
Joanne, Barry's girl.

Ah, she's coming today to see him,
isn't she?

And you have fallen for her.

- HE SCOFFS
- Of course I haven't.

Ah, come on, Fletch.

Ever since that last visit,

you've been mooching around
all potato-faced.

I tried to warn you,
but you wouldn't listen.

Oh, knock it on the head, Joe.

That's why no-one comes to visit you,

cos you're always nausing people off.

No, it's simpler than that.

All my pals are either
banged up or dead.

So, Reg booked us this holiday.

He thought it might bring us
closer together,

but a caravan in north Wales is
not my idea of a holiday.

I got so bored of Reg, I pretended
I was ill so we'd come home early.

Have you heard any of this, Nigel?
Nigel?

Huh? Oh, sorry, Harriet.

Yeah, north Wales -
bad idea, even when it doesn't rain.

The rain's not the problem.
It's me and Reg. I need your advice.

Advice? Seriously?

You were always the smartest one
in the family.

It doesn't mean I'm the best person
to give advice. Look where I am.

I think I want to leave Reg,
but I don't know how to go about it.

Sounds like you need a divorce.

It's not rocket science -
you just need grounds.

Like what? Well, like desertion.

Has he ever abandoned you?

No, he's at home now.

And he's not clinically insane?

Of course not.

Hmm... What about
unreasonable behaviour?

Has he ever abused you
verbally or physically?

Don't be daft!

You know Reg - he keeps rabbits.

KNOCKING LOUDLY

No physical contact.

Nigel!

Well, that only leaves one thing,
doesn't it? Adultery.

I think we've got him there, Nigel.

He's not the father of my child.

Oh, Fletch, my missus has got
a wicked new job...

tea lady at Millwall.

Oh, well, she won't be rushed off
her feet, the way they're playing.

Well, thanks for the advice.

- How's the baby?
- We haven't got a baby.

You're thinking of Lockhart -
E Wing, cat burglar.

Oh, yeah.

She's feeling much more
secure now, is Gwynneth.

- Gwynneth?
- My wife.

Oh, good. Erm...

COUGHING: Owen.

Owen. Yeah, yeah.
Has she kicked the habit?

What habit?

You're thinking of the dodgy
dentist, prescription pills.

Oh. Of course I am, yeah. Well, keep
not doing what you done before.

Oh, I've done doing that.

The visit went great, Fletch.
We've made it up.

- Oh, that's wonderful, Barry.
- Yeah. I remember what you said.

"The words don't matter," you said.

"What matters is that
they're from the heart."

Well, I'm glad I could have
been of service.

Early days yet,
but, as soon as I get out,

I'm going to pop the question,

and if she says yes,
will you be my best man?

How could I say no?

Oh, cheers, mate.

- Another satisfied customer.
- Yeah.

Oh, by the way, Nifty Small said
he's going to sue the Daily Mirror.

- He wants your help.
- Not interested.

- Fletch, he's a big face on the block.
- Don't care.

I'm shutting up shop.

What? But you're the go-to guy,

and, plus, we're making
some serious coin.

It's not in my interest to
get involved in

other people's business, Aziz.

I realise that now.
I'm better off looking after my own.

It's hard enough doing bird without
making it easy for everyone else.

- But...
- No buts.

Put the word about.

The medical, the married,
the legal and the lovelorn -

I'm through with all of it.

DOOR SLAMS

Hope I'm not interrupting.

You are, as it happens, Mr Braithwaite.

Who's this letter on behalf of?

On behalf of me, for me, from me,
so, if you don't mind,

I'm not really in the mood to
dispense advice.

I'm not looking for any.

I wish I hadn't have listened
to you in the first place.

Oh...

Go on, then, tell me all about it.

Well, I got home early
before the wife on Thursday,

dimmed the lights, put on some
romantic music, filled a bath

with aromatherapy crystals and put
those tealight candles around it.

Creating an atmosphere of
seduction and sensuality. Exactly.

Then I remembered I hadn't picked up
a bottle of white wine

like you'd recommended,
so I went down to the off-licence,

where I bumped into a neighbour.

Now, he offered to sell me
a second-hand Flymo Chevron.

Long story short, Mr B...

He was letting it go cheap,
cos when he was doing his back lawn,

- it had cut off two of his toes.
- Oh, dear.

Well, this made me late going home.

The wind had got up and I'd left
the bathroom window open.

One of the candles set fire
to the shower curtain.

I mean, the fire brigade
were very prompt

but there was quite a blaze
by the time they showed up.

See? This is just one more reason
why I've decided to

never dispense advice ever again.

Now, if you don't mind,
this letter's very important to me.

I've got to remodel half the bungalow.

Mrs Braithwaite's moved in
with her mother.

Well, I should have charged you extra!

Well, I was wondering if you'd
help me with the insurance forms.

What's in it for me?

Well, I don't suppose
I'll be needing these.

I told you to push the boat out!

Yeah, but I had to pay for the Flymo!

FLETCH SIGHS

I had one of them dreams
again last night.

Not the one about the district nurse
who turned out to be Joan Collins?

Well, this time she looked
more like Theresa May.

Sounds like a nightmare.

Mind, she went past on her bike
so fast, I couldn't be certain.

What do you think it all means?

I have no idea, Joe.

I'm not a shrink or a clairvoyant
or an agony aunt,

and since I gave up being
all of the above,

I'm sleeping a whole lot better.

Letter for you, Fletcher.

Is that from who I think it is?

I think it might be.
I recognise the handwriting...

HE SNIFFS ..and the eau de parfum.

And you're enjoying this moment,
which leads me to suspect

I won't like the information
contained within.

Oh, I haven't read it,
you have my word,

but young Mayhew is wandering
about the place with

a smile on his face, so I can't
believe it contains good news.

Oh, hand it over, for God's sake.
The suspense is killing me.

Let me guess.

"Dear Nigel, I'll never forget you.

"I'm so glad we met, but in the end
I realised I was taken in

"by your glib, facile surface charm."

You couldn't be more wrong, Mr Meekie.

I believe this is what the French
call a billet-doux,

containing warm, romantic sentiments
and unbridled sensuality.

HE SNIFFS

It didn't end well
for Cyrano, you know.

Mm-hmm?

His love Roxane ended up in a convent.

Well, this doesn't read like
the letter of a future nun.

15 years went by before
he went to see her.

He wasn't well.

He'd been hit on the head by a heavy
log, pushed from a high window.

- Heavy log?
- Pushed out of a high window, yes.

She finally realised it was him
that she loved.

She kissed him...

..and then he died.

Oh, well, thanks for that, Mr Meekie.

You've cheered us up no end.

You're welcome!

I don't get it.

Who does she fancy? You or Barry?

No, this is all about her
sticking with Barry.

She just wanted to say,
"Thank you for playing Cupid."

Oh, but you said to...

Well, I wasn't going to give Meekie
the satisfaction of

knowing I was the loser, was I?

Oh, so it wasn't to be?

Well, I must say,
you're taking it very well, Fletch.

Well, us Fletchers have
a very resilient streak.

My grandad used to have a saying.

He said, "Never run after
a bus or a woman,

"cos there'll be another
one along in a minute."

That's the spirit.

Yeah.

Also, she wants me to meet her sister.

LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE

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