All language subtitles for How To Get Ahead in Advertising [1989]_EN

Let me try and clarify
some of this for you.

Best Company Supermarkets

are not interested
in selling wholesome foods.

They are not worried
about the nation's health.

What is concerning them
is that the nation

appears to be getting
worried about its health.

And that is what's worrying Best Co,

because Best Co wants to go on
selling them what it always has,

ie, white breads,
baked beans, canned foods

and that suppurating,
fat-squirting little heart attack

traditionally known
as the British sausage.

So, how can we help them with that?

Clearly, we are looking for a label.

We need a label brimming with health.

And everything from a nosh pot
to a white sliced

will wear one with pride.

And although I'm aware of the difficulties
of coming to terms with this,

it must be appreciated
from the beginning

that even the nosh pot
must be low in something.

And if it isn't, it must be
high in something else.

And that is its health-giving
ingredient we will sell.

Which brings me to my final question.

Who are we trying to sell this to?

Answer, we are trying to sell this

to the archetypal, average housewife,

she who fills her basket.

What you have here
is a 22-year-old pretty girl.

What you need is a taut slob,

something on foot deodorisers
in a brassière.

I... I'm not quite sure we can
go along with that, Mr Bagley.

If you look at the market research...

I don't need to look
at the market research.

I've lived with 13 and a half
million housewives for 15 years.

I know everything about them.
She's 37 years old.

She has 2.3 children,
1.6 of which will be girls.

She uses 16 feet six inches
of toilet tissue a week

and fucks no more
than 4.2 times a month.

She has seven radiators
and is worried about her weight,

which is why we have her on a diet.

And because we have her on a diet,

we also encourage her
to reward herself with little treats,

and she deserves them.

Because anyone existing
on 1,200 calories

of artificial, synthetic,
orange-flavoured waffle a day

deserves a little treat.

"We know it's naughty,
but you do deserve it.

"Go on, darling, swallow a bun."

And she does.

And the instant she does,
the guilt cuts in.

So here we are again with our diet.

It's a vicious,
but quite wonderful circle,

and it adheres to only one rule.

"Whatever it is, sell it."

If you want to stay in advertising,
by God, you'd better learn that.

Bagley. Look, it's not in my nature to be
a pain in the arse with such consistency.

It's being forced on me.
I just had them on the phone.

They are phoning me back.
I've got to give them something.

- Tell them it'll be wonderful. Hi, Harry.
- All right?

I did. They're over the moon.

Apart from 15 calls a day wondering where
the fuck it is, they couldn't be happier.

They're getting impatient. We promised
them the animatic over a week ago.

I'll be frank with you, Bagley.
I'm running out of bullshit.

- Try massaging your temples.
- I've got to give them a date.

Either a date or you give me some idea
of what you're coming up with.

I'm coming up with a brilliant advertisement
for a very dull pimple cream.

Then why can't I take a look?
Why can't I see something?

You know, just a storyboard
or some roughs,

anything so as I can give them
an idea of the direction you're going in.

No. I don't show work in progress.

- Any calls?
- Mr Bristol called again, twice.

- I hope you told him I was out.
- Yes, Mr Bagley. You were out.

- Good. If he calls again, I'm still out.
- Bagley, you have got to give me a date.

All right, try Monday on him.
And don't get so panicky.

Nobody ever remembers a late delivery,
Richard. They only remember a bad one.

Boil busters. The boil busters.

Your face can be a battleground.

You need something tough.

Jesus.

What do they want
another pimple cream for?

The market's saturated.

There's a lot of boils
out there, Bagley.

"Nobody cares as much
about your skin as you do,

"but we do try.

"And because we care,

"we went to an expert -

"Mother Nature -

"and we discovered that sometimes,
the most effective way

"of dealing with those
troublesome little breakouts

"is Mother Nature's own
richest source of Vitamin A.

"So we took essential oils

"of carrot, marigold seed...

"roots and other natural ingredients,

"and we packed this shit
into every tube.

"We called it HP Megaventure.

"And if it doesn't work
on your blackheads,

"you can spread the fucker on toast!"

Sorry to disturb you, Mr Bagley,

but Mr Bristol's on the line again.

- Tell him I'm out again.
- He says he knows you're not.

He says he knows you're avoiding him
and he says he insists on a time to see you.

Oh, for Christ's sake, give me a break.

All right, tell him this afternoon.
Four o'clock this afternoon.

- And get my wife on the phone.
- Yes, Mr Bagley.

"Hi. My name's Barbara Simmons,

"and I'm a biochemist.

"But at night, I'm a woman,

"and I want my skin to be at its best.

"So I recommend a new product.

"It's called...

"whatever the fuck it's called,

"and I use whatever the fuck it is

"because I know it works.

"And I should know,

"because I make it."

Mrs Bagley on line one.

What do you want!

Yes, I'm sorry, darling. I know I did.

Listen, I don't think
I'm gonna make it back tonight.

I'm gonna blitz it.

Oh, no, fine, fine. It's going fine.

It's just, the deadline's
getting serious.

Really?

Well, we could meet for lunch,
celebrate my breakthrough.

OK, one o'clock.

- You're chain-smoking, darling.
- I know I am. I know I am.

I'd like another vodka martini,
dry as a bone, twist, no olive.

Spritzer, please.

I tell you, Julia, I'm out of my mind.

I'm getting nowhere. Zero.

Stop getting so wound up
about it. It'll come.

And please put that cigarette out.
That's three in ten minutes.

Darling, why don't you forget it a minute?
Take the afternoon off.

- I can't. I've got to see Bristol.
- You're not gonna be much use.

Oh, that's where you're wrong, Julia.

That's what's so insane about all this.
Anything else, I'm fine.

Any other part of the human body,
I'll sell it something.

Give me a bald head,
and I'll sell it shampoo.

- I cannot get a handle on the boils.
- Pass me the butter, please, darling.

The moment I think of a boil,

my mind slips into
a sort of dreadful, oily neutral.

I just sit there, hour after hour,

chewing the ends off pencils,
smoking myself daft.

- What exactly is this stuff?
- It's a standard.

16 to 26-year-old acne attacker.
It's a hexafluoride.

- Does it work?
- No idea. It's probably junk.

Well, that's probably the problem.

If you knew it actually got rid of boils,
you'd have no problem selling it.

Nobody in advertising
wants to get rid of boils, Julia.

They're good little money spinners.

All we want to do is offer hope of getting
rid of them. And that's where I'm blocked!

- Where's our drinks?
- They're coming, sir.

Well, I really do think you should
cancel Bristol and come home with me.

I can't. I've been cancelling him all week.
Why can't we cancel this dinner?

I'm not in the mood for that mob.

If I had known we were having dinner,
I'd never have suggested lunch.

We can have both. People do, darling.

- I suppose Wheelstock will be there.
- Don't take it out on Penny.

Christ, what am I going to do?

Dennis, for goodness' sake,
stop getting so paranoid.

Everything will be all right. You've had
these sort of problems many times before.

- Not like this, I haven't.
- Oh, yes you have.

You had a terrible time with piles.

I did not have
a terrible time with piles.

I may have had a problem
getting ahold of them,

- but selling them was a piece of cake.
- You're raising your voice.

Compared to this,
piles were a birthday present.

- So was dandruff. So was breath.
- You're still raising your voice.

The whole lot taken together,
including the fucking lawnmowers,

is as nothing compared
to the pimples, acne and boils!

I don't want to go back in there.

Don't worry about it.
Don't think about boils.

If a boil pops up, force yourself
to think of something else.

- OK.
- And don't go near your office.

Just see Bristol and come home.

- Are you sure you can't wait for me?
- Sorry, I can't, darling.

Get Bristol on the line and
tell him I'm coming in to see him now.

Yeah. Have him call me later.

Sorry to keep you waiting, Bagley.
I didn't expect you till four o'clock.

- Here, take a look at this.
- What is it?

It's a photostat of an arse
from a copying machine.

- Don't recognise it, do you?
- Not offhand, no.

You gave the juniors
a bit of a tongue-lashing yesterday.

- Really?
- Said you went over the top.

I haven't got time
to give lessons in advertising.

They asked my opinion, and I gave it.

In my opinion,
they'd completely missed the brief.

I think you're probably right.
Not now, Sheila.

As a matter of fact, I think you
helped them out. About 15 minutes.

Anyway. That's not actually
what I wanted to talk about.

How are we getting on
with the pimple cream?

Five minutes.

Is it special? 555-0472.

- Sensational.
- Can you give me a verbal peek?

- You know me, John. I'd rather not.
- That's what I thought.

No, Los Angeles 555-0472.

I'm very pleased to hear it,
because I'll tell you frankly,

they were on the phone this morning,
threatening to pull the account.

Anyone but you and they would.

It's finished. Just a fine-tune.
I'll be through over the weekend.

Can we diarise on that?

- Of course.
- Wonderful. Wonderful.

Yes. Put him through.

Mmm? Mm-hm.

Really? Why so fast?

Really?

What happened to Seymour,
Hickwash, Bone, Riddle and Gore?

Really?

What about OCDS?

Wh... Is it a kipper?

Oh, that's interesting.
What a complete range of dinners.

Frozen kippers...
Just hang on a second, Bagley.

No. He's here now. I'll ask him.

No, no, he's finished.
He'll be through Monday, for sure.

Hang on a sec, Eddie.

Can you handle a Monday pitch?
It's a quickie. You'd have to go in dry.

- What's the product?
- It's a boil-in-a-bag.

- You all right. Bagley?
- Yes, I'm fine.

Tell him OK. I'll be in
first thing Monday morning.

You must stop worrying.

If a boil pops up, force yourself
to think of something else.

You're absolutely right.

I'm absolutely not
gonna think about boils,

large boils, blind boils or fat girls' boils,
till ten o'clock tomorrow morning.

What about large, blind,
fat girls with boils?

I see the police have made
another lightning raid.

- Paddington drug orgy.
- Huh.

I suppose young girls was involved?

"One discovered naked in the kitchen,

"breasts smeared with peanut butter.

"The police took away a bag containing
15 grams of cannabis resin.

"It may also contain
a quantity of heroin."

Or a pork pie.

I beg your pardon?

I said, the bag may also
have contained a pork pie.

I hardly see a pork pie's
got anything to do with it.

All right, then,
what about a large turnip?

It may also have contained a big turnip.

- The bag was full of drugs.
- Nonsense.

The bag was full of drugs! It says so!

The bag could have been
full of anything.

Pork pies, turnips, oven parts.

- It's the oldest trick in the book.
- What book?

The distortion of truth
by association book.

The word is "may".

You all believe heroin was in the bag
because cannabis resin was in the bag.

The bag may have contained heroin,

but the chances are 100 to one
certain that it didn't.

Lot more likely than what you say.

About as likely
as the tits spread with peanut butter.

- Do you mind?
- The tits were spread with peanut butter!

- Nonsense.
- It says so!

Who's the man you are to think
you know more about it than the press?

I'm an expert on tits.
Tits and peanut butter.

I'm also an expert drug pusher.

- I've been pushing drugs for 20 years.
- Look here, I've had enough of this!

And I can tell you,
a pusher protects his pitch.

We wanna sell 'em cigarettes
and don't like competition, see?

So we associate
a relatively innocuous drug

with one that is extremely dangerous.

And the rags go along with it because
they adore the dough from the ads.

I've had enough of this.
I'm getting off at Thatchet.

Getting off at Thatchet won't help you.
Getting off anywhere won't.

I've had an octopus squatting
on my brain for a fortnight,

and I suddenly see that
I am the only one that can help you.

It would be pointless
to go into the reasons why,

but I've been worried sick
about boils for a fortnight.

Large boils, small boils, fast eruptors.
They're incurable, all of them.

I know that, and so does everybody else.

Until they get one.
Then the rules suddenly change.

With a boil on the nose,
there's a sudden overnight surge in faith.

They wanna believe something will work.

He knows that, which is why
he gets a good look in with the dying.

Sell some hope, you see?

But these boys would be full-time
into real estate

if anyone came up
with a genuine cure for death!

Good God, this is a madman!

What do you know about God,
you wire-haired Mick?

Here, have 'em. I've given up.

- What on earth are you doing?
- I'm reading a newspaper.

We're in the middle of a dinner party.

I'm sorry. I can't bear
that great, pompous herbivore in there.

I'm sick of hearing
about her soya proteins.

You might at least
make a bit of an effort.

At least sit at the table.
Bring the cream.

- Both breasts and the leg removed?
- When all's said and done,

it's perfectly obvious
most girls love being on the pill.

What utter balls, Jonathan.

Do you think women like
filling their bodies with chemicals?

- We're talking about eels, darling.
- Yes, it is most extraordinary.

Apparently, by the year 2000,

the level of oestrogen in the sea
will be as much as two parts per million.

So many women taking the pill, you see.

The problem is,
it's starting to mess up the fish.

- They're breeding in the sea.
- I thought fish did.

Not eels, darling. Eels breed in rivers.

I think men should bleed.

What a disgusting thing to say!

You find bleeding disgusting, do you?

Not particularly.
Just the way you said it.

That horrible sneer
and mouth full of nuts.

Darling, Penny is our guest.

Women, I might inform you,
take that primitive device called the pill

because it's all they've got.

They don't like it.
I personally abhor it.

But, unfortunately, it's all we've got.

- In what context?
- In the context of bed.

I'm surprised you need to bother.

Cointreau, anyone?

Darling, I know you're having
a very difficult time at the moment,

and I know you've had rather a lot
to drink and didn't mean what you said.

But Penny is our guest
and I'd like you to apologise.

He doesn't need to apologise. Those kinds
of sexist attitudes are beyond apology.

What do you mean by that?

Do you really think I don't understand?

You dislike me because I'm not one
of those starved little tarts you exploit.

I don't rush out
and buy your latest makeup.

I have a mind of my own.
And I have a body of my own

that doesn't fit into the preconceived
patterns men like you dictate.

- You mean you're fat.
- Yes, I'm fat!

And you're perfectly at liberty
to hate me for it.

You're quite wrong.
I don't dislike you because of that.

I wouldn't care if you were so huge
we had to put up scaffolding to feed you.

Oh, for God's sake,
let's not have a row.

- Why not? Why shouldn't we have a row?
- Because nobody wants one!

- You're being completely irrational.
- Irrational?

We're all prepared to sit here
discussing mung beans and soya protein,

but if anybody touches on
anything real, it's irrational?

Right, then, you're being rude.
Unutterably rude and a bore!

- Bagley, come and have a drink.
- I've had a drink, thank you.

Now I'm going to have another.

- Do you wear Y-fronts?
- Don't tell him.

I think you're contemptible.

And I think you are a vegan
who eats meat in secret.

- See? She's a meat-eating vegan.
- I do not eat meat!

But you'll eat fish
till the cows come home.

- Don't argue with him.
- Fish is allowed!

Including eels? Eels full of oestrogen?

If it's buggering the eels,
think what it's doing to you.

- Get back to your fig bottling!
- You're going out of control.

Oh, no, I'm not.
I'm just beginning to see the light.

- You're talking nonsense.
- It's all so clear.

I've been living a nightmare,
obsessed with other people's acne,

wracking my brains
to be original about boils.

I've been going berserk!

But then I suddenly thought
of a pork pie.

- Get his Valium.
- I tell you, it was like a fucking brainwave!

I have discovered that brains
are being laundered daily.

I have found that out,
but it shall be no more!

Jesus Christ!
What do you think you're doing?

I'm completing a process
of natural selection.

I'm going through everything in the house
and isolating items of genuine worth.

All other products, especially
those contaminated with advertising,

I am disposing of.

Have you gone out of your mind?

I know it's going to be difficult, but I'll
explain properly and you will understand.

Dennis, listen to me.
You're under tremendous stress.

You were drunk last night, and probably
don't realise it, but you were out of control.

Maybe I was, but now I've had time to work
things out, get everything in perspective.

Darling, can't you see what you're doing
this morning is equally out of control?

Oh, no, you're quite wrong, Julia.
There's nothing out of control about me now.

I know exactly what I'm doing now.

God in heaven!

The sweet stench of revenge!

Please stop that. I think you're ill.

I'm gonna do those bastard
television sets in here.

- Like you're doing the vacuum cleaner?
- That's right.

Except I'm gonna do them better.

I'm gonna turn them on and do them in the
middle of an advertisement for themselves.

- I'm going to drown them.
- You call that rational, do you?

Certainly. Everything I do is rational.

Why have you put chickens
down the lavatory?

To thaw them before dismemberment.

You're ill, darling.
I want you to get out of the bath.

They feed 'em on fish,
they taste like fish,

so I shall dismember them and return them
via the sewers to the sea.

Get out of the bloody bath!

I know this must be all
sort of upsetting for you, darling,

but honestly, I assure you
of its necessity.

- It has to be done or we'll never be free.
- From what?

What sort of freedom can you get from
hacking a vacuum cleaner to pieces?

Look at you! You've got a polythene bag
on your head. You look stark raving mad.

You need help. You need rest.

This cursed pimple cream
has got on top of you.

Which is why I intend to escape.

You're not escaping it.
You're encouraging it.

- You're suffering them yourself.
- What do you mean?

You're so run down,
you've got a boil yourself.

- Me?
- Yes.

A horrid looking boil,
spouting from your neck.

You never had a boil
before in your life.

You're totally worn out,
both physically and emotionally.

My God, you're right!

I've got a boil.

Sullivan Bristol. One moment.

I'm gonna collect
something from my office.

While I'm there, get hold of Bristol
and tell him I'm coming to see him.

- Mr Bristol's out. Sullivan Bristol.
- I want a call the moment he turns up.

And get me a couple of dispatch boys.
I need some equipment moved.

Ow!

I've come to give you a present.

How nice.

To me, this represents
everything that is wrong

and everything that is vile
with this profession.

- Really?
- It is the reason I'm resigning.

- What's suddenly upset you about it?
- The hypocrisy it represents.

- It was never used.
- Not its. Mine.

I believed in it, and I sat back like some
gagged little idiot while they buggered it.

- I should have resigned then.
- I see.

I don't approve of its rejection.
I can no longer tolerate it.

I don't approve of Her Majesty's
Government's cynical little bit of twaddle

that smoking can seriously
damage your health

as any kind of acceptable alternative.

I wouldn't have thought
anyone was arguing about that.

Precisely. Nobody's arguing about it,
especially the government.

The only fucker this ever frightened
was the Chancellor of the Exchequer.

But I'm going to argue about it.
I'm going to shout about it!

- I wouldn't do that, old chap.
- Can damage your health?

What's "can" got to do with it?
Can, could, might, possibly, maybe.

"Does" is the word we want to hear.

The bastards are killing 100,000 a year.

Warning by Her Majesty's Government.

"This product contains
highly toxic carcinogenic poisons.

"Avoid all contact. Do not inhale.

"Should inhalation occur,
seek immediate advice from a physician."

I saw Harry yesterday. He said you were
having problems with the pimple cream.

Did he? Well, he's wrong.

Because I have eradicated
the pimple cream from my life.

He also said you lost your temper
with some photographs.

That's right. Closeups of hives.

Don't you think the way you reacted
could be considered a little irrational?

Don't start the old irrational
bollocks with me, Bristol!

I'm up to here with it. I know everything
there is to know about rationality,

and I know everything
there is to know about advertising.

- Hold them, Sheila.
- So don't tell me I'm being irrational.

Because I'm the man who's taken
the stench out of everything but shit.

OK, old chap, why don't
you take some time off?

What the fuck do you think
I'm resigning for?

I'm taking forever off.
I'm going to cleanse my life.

I'm going to rid my mind
and body of poisons,

and when I've done it, I intend to make it
my life's work to encourage others to do it.

- And how will you do that?
- By telling them, you bald fool.

Walking up and down
with a sandwich board?

- If necessary.
- Advertising, dear boy.

How dare you! How...

Aagh!

- What's the matter, Bagley?
- I've got a boil.

A big boil. I believe it's justice.

The poison quitting my miserable system.

15 years ago, I was out there
on the floor where you are now,

and I was very like you, Bagley.

I was the best.

But I got myself into some
trouble with a gas-fired heating system.

I tell you, I was desperate.
I made myself ill with worry.

I finally ended up at a specialist
who told me I'd given myself an ulcer.

But it was a lot more than that to me.

As far as I was concerned,
I'd given myself a detonator.

I became obsessed with fears
of spontaneous combustion.

This gas-fired business had penetrated
so deeply into my subconscious,

I thought I was seconds away
from bursting into flames.

I started drinking water,
sometimes as much as 25 pints a day.

I slept with a bucketful by the bed.

I even bought a fire extinguisher.

I'm surprised you needed to bother.
You must have pissed like a fire engine.

Anyway, what's all this
got to do with me?

What I'm telling you
is that I tried to quit too,

but the man who sat here
refused to accept my resignation.

- Hard luck.
- Was it?

I took a month off and went abroad,

rested and got myself a tan
and then I came back.

And by Christ, Bagley,
did I sell some radiators.

- Really?
- Never been better.

And I'll tell you something else.
I didn't burst into flames, either.

Well, let's hope it's not too late.

Cos if you went up,
it would save me a job.

Cos I tell you, Bristol, any night now,

I'm likely to turn up here
and burn this dump to the ground.

I can't believe
how the thing could grow so quickly.

This morning it was a pea.
Now it's like a fucking tomato.

I can't bear it any longer, Julia.

The bastard's on fire!

Bathe it in warm water again.

I have bathed it in warm water again.

I've washed it, dried it, poked it,

agitated it, insulted it.

Nothing. All it does is throb
and get bigger.

It's like a thing in a medical magazine.

- Hasn't the mustard helped?
- Of course not.

- Maybe you should try the English.
- This is the English.

No, it's not, darling.
It's Dijon with fine herbs.

Why don't you take some aspirin?

Never! I'm gonna knife the swine!

Calm down! It's just a big boil.

First thing in the morning, I'll run you
into town and we'll have it looked at.

Now come to bed.

Julia...

it's just grown a hair.

Oh, it's two o'clock in the morning!
Will you please come to bed?

Not now.

I gotta get down there and do some work.

Come on, race!

Come on. He needs some help.

What are we gonna tell him?

All we gotta do is tell him to throw
a rock through their window.

Then knock on the door
and sell them all a burglar alarm.

- Right.
- Oh, this is a good idea.

- Mwah!
- Oh, you missed me!

I'm going again.

- Oh! Ready? Mwah!
- Mm... Mwah!

Oh, I think you're wonderful.

Shall I follow you?

Yeah. Come on, let's hit
this cathode ray tube.

OK. Ready? Here I go! Whee!

And whee!

Hiya, handsome.

You can go home, Mrs Wallace.

Dr Gatty, please. Julia Bagley.

Well, can you page him?
I need him at once!

Good. Yes, wonderful.
Thank you. Thank you.

The boil! The boil!

It's alive! It lives!

- What do you mean?
- It's grown a head!

I looked at it in the bathroom mirror,
and it spoke to me!

Aah! Have a look at it!

- I have, darling.
- What's it doing?

Nothing. It's just a big boil.

Boils don't have ears!
Boils don't have mouths that smile!

No, darling. Neither does yours.

I promise you, it's all part of this silly,
silly stress you're going through.

Come along.
We'll go and look at it together.

I don't think I dare.

Shall I tell you what happened?

You were dreaming. You dreamt
you woke up and went to the bathroom.

You may have even slept walked there.

You saw your own face in the mirror,
and it frightened you.

Things like that are always happening

when people are under
dreadful mental stress.

- Do you think so?
- I'm certain of it.

That'll be Dr Gatty.
Come upstairs and put something on.

- What's the problem, Julia?
- Dennis thinks he's got a talking boil.

- What?
- I can't go into it now, but he's manic.

- Where is he?
- Upstairs.

How is this manifesting?

Dennis, darling! Dennis!

Dennis, come back! Stop!

Ah! Come on, boy.

Come on, Dennis. I'm not gonna hurt you.

Stay back, Gatty!
You blast it on the radio!

- All right. Here you are. Now, now, boy.
- Aah! Aah!

- Now, now, now. Come on.
- Aah! Aah!

There, there, there.

There. All done. All done.

How do you think he'd react to
a suggestion of psychoanalysis, Julia?

Well, he'll agree. He'll have to.

Not necessarily. He's almost
certainly convinced of his sanity.

In which case, it might well be difficult
to persuade him a psychiatrist could help.

The only thing he'd consent to
at the moment is me lancing the boil.

Why don't you?
Do it now while he's asleep?

I'm not an expert
in these things, Julia.

I don't think that's a good idea.

Removing it in his condition might
set up some kind of permanent block.

You've got to remember, as far as
he's concerned, I wouldn't be lancing it.

I'd be decapitating it,
and that could be dangerous.

We don't know who this person is.

It might be a relative. His mother.

- I think it's a male.
- Father, then.

I'm sure that before any attempt
is made to get rid of it,

you've got to find out who it is.

Once we've done that,
we've got a good chance

of converting it back to a normal boil.

Then I'll lance it.

For the moment, it's just a matter
of getting him to see a good psychoanalyst.

- Do you know someone?
- I know a very good man in town.

- It might take two or three days.
- He'll have to consent.

- If he doesn't, we'll have to make him.
- I fear so.

- What do you mean?
- Could involve certification.

But he's just exhausted.
He's not really mad, is he?

Running naked around a garden
insisting a boil has spoken to you

is more than just exhaustion, Julia.

Look. This is what I suggest. Tomorrow,
I'll call you with an appointment.

You have to do your best
to get him there.

For the moment, make sure he keeps
taking the tablets every two hours.

He'll stay under control.

When he wakes up, try and be normal.
Cook him dinner.

You'll probably have
to go along with him.

It'll be difficult. You'll have to try.

And you'd better keep a record
of what the boil says.

At least, what he says it says.

Could be important.

Don't worry. We'll sort it out.

- What are those?
- Just pills.

Two now, two before bed.

Do you think I'm going mad, Julia?

Goodness gracious, no!

Dr Gatty says you're simply
paying the price of your creativity.

He says you have such an active imagination,
it's taking advantage of you.

- What did he say about the boil?
- He said it's perfectly normal.

He said it's an absolutely normal boil,

and as soon as you've
had a proper rest, it'll go away.

- Are you sure?
- Absolutely.

Trust me. Take my word for it.

Mmm. Smells good.

- Smells thumb-sucking good.
- Thank you, darling.

- I didn't say anything.
- Oh, I see.

Now we're going to have a nice dinner,
and everything will be normal.

And if it speaks again,
we'll ignore it, won't we?

Promise?

- What are you doing?
- Merely whistling.

- You're staring.
- Not at all.

I was just getting ready
to clear my throat, that's all.

It's extraordinary how much steam
comes off hot peas, isn't it?

Yes, darling.

Go to France.

Yes, fancy France?
Paris in the springtime?

That'd be lovely.

That's a very attractive oven glove.

Are you ashamed of your false teeth?

- I don't have false teeth.
- I know you don't, darling. I know you don't.

What I meant was, if you did have false
teeth, would you be ashamed of them?

- It was a hypothetical question.
- Probably not.

Boeuf bourguignon.

Breath. For many, the unmentionable.

- I beg your pardon, darling?
- Just happened to be thinking about it.

Breath and false teeth and things.

You know, there's no real reason
why we should wait.

- For what?
- Paris.

We could leave in a week or so.

- We could even leave tomorrow.
- You dropped your napkin, darling.

I'll buy a couple of polo necks,
and we could hop on a plane.

Put an end to the misery of dentures.
You could smile again with confidence.

Just ask Barbara Simmons.

Why did you say that?

Who is Barbara Simmons?

I don't know.

- Then why talk about her?
- I don't know.

- You're not really trying, you know.
- Trying what?

Trying not to talk
about breath and false teeth

and people with names
like Barbara Simmons.

I am, Julia.
It's got nothing to do with me.

It's the you-know-what.

Well, it's ever so slightly
getting on my nerves.

- I thought we weren't going to listen to it.
- I can't help but listen to it.

And I can't stop
the you-know-what saying it.

Stop saying "the you-know-what".

All right, then. The boil.

Darling, it is not the boil.

Don't you think I haven't noticed?

Every time you say something,
you turn away

or hunch your shoulder or get under
the table so I can't see your lips moving.

That's not the case, Julia.
I'm not turning away to speak.

What it's doing is waiting
till I turn away before it speaks.

That's nonsense!
It was you that suggested France.

I did not, I merely confirmed
what the boil said.

- Then stop siding with it!
- Don't be ridiculous! I'm not siding with it!

I'm going crazy trying to incorporate it
into my conversation so I won't upset you.

But I never know
what it's going to say next.

What you'll say next.
It's you saying it.

It's the boil, Julia!
Believe me, it's the boil!

- I can't stand it any more.
- How do you think I feel about it?

I'm on the coast of panic.
I'm staring over the edge!

Just tell me how a boil

can come up with a name
like Barbara Simmons?

Say no more, Julia. Don't say more.

Why should a boil suddenly
suggest going to France?

- I don't know.
- Why not Portugal?

I don't know. I don't know!

Perhaps the fucker wants
to go up the Eiffel Tower!

Maybe the bastard
wants to see the sights!

Sit down! I'm going to call Gatty.

- What for?
- To see if he's got you in!

In where?

- Stay back! You need help!
- I refuse to have that quack in here.

I refuse to be rendered unconscious.

You have got to see a psychiatrist.

Are you there, Julia?

Are you there?

I have to be very quiet.

He's a very light sleeper.

I wish I could come out
and talk to you, darling.

But it's impossible. You've seen.

I have to tell you, Julia,

I'm getting increasingly
concerned for my future.

I don't know how this will end.

For all I know, in a fortnight's time,

I'll be waking up with a bald head
and a bit of a grin.

"How do you feel, Mr Bagley?"
"Much better, thank you, doctor."

But the one thing I'm not, darling,
is insane.

I'm 100 percent normal.

When I came in here,
it was my intention to make a film.

I wanted to tell the world
about advertising.

It's not finished, of course.

It's difficult to concentrate
with a shanker yacking on your neck.

Incidentally,
in case it's bothering you,

the reason I'm wearing
this wine carton on my head

is so I can talk without disturbing it.

It can't hear, you see?

The world is in danger, Julia.
The greed is out of control.

Greed is abolishing the future.

It's turning truth
inside out and upside down.

And this is its poisonous mouthpiece.

Bollocks!

Oh, Christ! I think I've woken him up.
I'll have to be quick.

What I have to explain
is the mechanics of a holocaust.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

I'm not talking about atom bombs,
darling. I'm talking about hamburgers.

I had a nasty feeling I was going
to have to wake up to this.

If I was you, I'd turn this off, Julia.
It's only gonna upset you.

You see what a nightmare I'm in.
You see why I can't talk to you.

Who are you talking to, then?

God, it converses. I'm talking to it.

- I need a cigarette.
- Be silent, you Moloch!

- Moloch?
- Yes, that's you, you Moloch, you bogey!

If you insist we have to listen
to this bullshit, I need a cigarette.

All right, I'll get you one.
But on one condition.

That you'll keep quiet
while you're smoking it.

- Deal.
- Swear!

I might be a shanker,
but my word is my bond.

Don't turn off, darling.
60 seconds and I'll be back.

Oh, Mrs Wallace!
I didn't know you were here.

- I thought everyone was out.
- My husband's outside in the van.

- Is he? How is he?
- He's waiting to collect me.

Is he? Julia out shopping?

Look, I wasn't actually going through
your handbag. I need a cigarette.

Here, you can have them all.

I only want one. I don't smoke.

Got a light?

Vile. I'm glad I've given up.

Morning, darling. Lovely day.

Is it? Traffic's appalling.

You wouldn't make me
a cup of tea, would you, Sylvia?

- Tea, Dennis?
- No, thank you.

Don't pretend you haven't noticed
my cardboard box, Julia,

because I know you have.

And I know Mrs, Wallace,
God bless her, has noticed it too.

But there's a perfectly
reasonable explanation,

which I'm afraid I don't
have time to go into now.

Matter of fact, I'm very busy now.
I better get back in there.

- Thanks for the cigarette, Mrs Wallace.
- I thought you'd given up.

I have. I'm not smoking it.
I'm just holding it.

- I'll be out later.
- Don't be too long.

We're leaving in less than an hour.

Who's gonna tell me about it, then?

You or the boil?

No, no. I think we should start again.

There's no side to any of this.
There is me. There is a boil.

The boil happens to be able to speak, but
that doesn't qualify it to give an opinion.

It was me that decided
to come here, not it.

You don't think the inclusion
of the boil could perhaps help us?

No. I'm not interested in its opinions.

Even if it says something
that might be of relevance?

I'm not interested in it,
no matter what it says.

In my opinion,
it should be lanced instantly.

It was the only reason
I agreed to come off the garage roof.

If it wants to join in,
it can pay its own bill.

Come and lie down.

Please.

Tell me about advertising.

Now, you resigned from an important
firm with a very highly paid job.

I'd like to know your reasons.

Well, at least try
and give me an example

of even one of those reasons.

All right. Reason one.

Advertising conspires with Big Brother.

And you're afraid of Big Brother?

Someone or something
coming into your life

and telling you what to do?

No. I'm not afraid of him. I'm one
of the few who really understands him.

Oh?

The man who conceived of Big Brother

never knew what was coming
down the line.

Thought his filthy creation
was gonna be watching us.

But it is us who watch it.
There's one in every living room.

The monstrous injustice of it is,
we stare at it of our own free will.

So we could say, principally,
that it's television that you blame?

We can say entirely it is the crooks
who've infiltrated it that I blame.

They've moved in on the greatest
means of communication since the wheel.

And now they've done it,
their greed is insatiable.

They're cutting down jungles
to breed hamburgers,

turning the whole world into a car park.

They'd sell off the sea to satisfy
the needs of their great god Greed.

They won't be satisfied,
not till we're all squatting

in one of its fucking hatchbacks
on a motorway.

There isn't going to be
anywhere left to go

except in slow revolutions towards
the crest of the next slag heap.

Do you have trouble
in getting an erection?

- What?
- Can you get an erection?

- Yes!
- Masturbating much?

Constantly! I've got
a talking boil on my neck!

What would you do?

What does this mean to you?

"Are you ashamed of your false teeth?

"Put an end to the miseries of dentures.

"You could smile again with confidence.

"Just ask Barbara Simmons."

The boil said it a few nights ago.
Sounds like a particularly crude voiceover.

- Voiceover?
- The voice that sells.

If you're selling perfume,
it sounds like a lover.

If you're selling something
inedible you want people to eat,

it'll sound as stupid
as they'll have to be to buy it.

In this case, it would sound
like a dentist, someone in the know.

I see. So one could say that it's,
erm, the voice of authority?

Like, erm...
Well, like a parent's voice, almost?

If you like.

Has the boil spoken this morning?

Yes, I had a row with it, and it got
very heated when I refused to shave.

- Tell me about your parents.
- Not part of the plot.

As far as I know,
they were completely normal.

- I come from a completely normal family.
- Tell him about your grandfather.

That was the boil. Ignore it.

I don't think we should do that.

It's the first time it's spoken in front
of me, and it might be important.

It has nothing important to say. It is
destructive, self-satisfied and abusive.

- You cun...
- You see? Don't listen.

Come on. Fair's fair.
You've had your say. Now I'll have mine.

Don't listen to it! Don't listen to it!

Why don't you tell me
about your grandfather?

If you tell me, the boil might be quiet.

My grandfather was caught molesting
a wallaby in a private zoo in 1919.

- A wallaby?
- May have been a kangaroo. I'm not sure.

- You mean sexually?
- Suppose so. He had his hand in its pouch.

- Fucked it, didn't he?
- He did not fuck it!

Just... just lie back.

- What happened to him?
- He pleaded insanity and got three months.

Does the authoritarian attitude
they took with him upset you?

- No. He died before I was born.
- Do you sympathise with him?

If I had been stuck in a trench
for three years,

- I might do something stupid myself.
- Like showing affection for an animal?

- He'd fuck one.
- Shut up!

Ask Barbara Simmons.
He'd fuck her as well.

Oh, my God. How could the boil have
possibly known about my grandfather?

That means it can read my mind.

No, Mr Bagley, it does not.

We'll speak about that in a moment,
when we've had a look at this boil.

What you mean is you want
me to have a look at it. No.

What would you say if I said
that you don't want to look at it

because you're frightened
of what you might see?

I'd say you'd be absolutely right.

Isn't that trying to pretend
it doesn't exist?

Isn't that exactly what you're accusing
everyone else of doing?

Now, we must reduce
this guilt in two ways.

First, it must be physically
reduced with surgery.

And secondly, we must reduce
your punishing conscience

by refusing to allow it to hide.

Once we get it out into the open,
it'll be easier to fight.

And I'm certain that
by the time your neck's healed,

you'll be smiling at this problem
and be back at work.

Never. No matter what you reduce,
I will never go back to advertising.

Perhaps. But now, let's have a look
at this bully on your neck.

Just look at it in the mirror...

and tell me what you see.

Oh, God in heaven!

It's grown a moustache!

Oh, my God!

- Oh, my God.
- Yes.

- Yes?
- The bastard looks just like me!

What you must understand

is that it's not the boil
that can read you.

It is you, Mr Bagley,
that can read the boil.

You can read it because it is you.

At least, a part of you.

The boil knows what you're thinking

because you've projected
some of you into it.

You've given it the side
that you find intolerable,

the bullying, aggressive,
dictatorial side.

The side that sells toothpaste and soap.

You've decided that selling these things
is a bad thing for you to do,

and you are unable to accept
the guilt for what you feel you've done.

Therefore, you've transmitted
these qualities into the boil.

Perhaps, by doing this,
you hope to escape your guilt.

But you've created a symbol
of foul-mouthed authority instead.

Your very own Big Brother.

- Welcome back. My name's Debra.
- My head.

Come on. Let's sit you up straight.

Up we go. There we are.

- Have they done it?
- In the morning.

- You hungry?
- No.

I'll bring you something anyway.
There's beef burgers or fish fingers.

I can hardly move my arms.
I can hardly move anything.

Barbiturate.
They gave you a whopping dose.

You should have had the fish fingers.

Mouthwatering fillets
of young cod, matey,

in a crisp, golden batter, my mate.

Shut up. You never talk in front
of people, so don't talk in front of me.

Suit yourself. Suit yourself.
Suit yourself.

Just thought you might be interested in
a little light rabbit to while the time away.

Fuck me. What I wouldn't do
for a cigarette.

- Who are you? What do you want?
- I am your better half.

- You're not!
- Mais oui, je suis.

A very expensive psychiatrist
told you I was.

He did not!
You're just a dirty carbuncle.

There's no reason to raise your voice.

There's no reason why we shouldn't pass
these last few hours together amicably.

- Be quiet.
- That wouldn't be fair.

I listened to you
and all that Big Brother muck.

Don't mind telling you,
I was bored stiff.

I had absolutely nothing
to do under there.

Except tend me moustache, of course.

'Ere, you know why I grew it?
Big Granddad.

How did you find out
about my grandfather?

Walls have ears, Dennis.
I overheard Julia telling Gatty.

Nice pair of tits, Julia.

I believe you was unconscious
at the time.

You bastard! I only have one wish,

and that is that I could be awake
to see you lanced.

I'd like to see the knife going in.

I'd like to see you suffer.

- A typically communist statement.
- I'm not a communist!

Yes, you are. You want
to take everyone's car away.

I do not want to take
anything from anyone.

I want to give them
the choice of something better.

- Oh, yes? What?
- Trains.

Trains? Trains are no good.
They're old-fashioned.

- I hate trains. They're rotten.
- Only because they don't consume.

Only because they're already there
and don't eat up more and more and more.

That's why you hate them.
That's why government hates them.

That's why they're
old-fashioned and rotten.

- You commies don't half talk a lot of shit.
- Shut up! I'm not a communist!

I refuse to argue with a carbuncle.

- You are a communist.
- Fuck off!

That's very rude of you, Mr Bagley.

Nobody's forcing you to have supper.

I'm sorry. That wasn't directed at you.

- Lovely.
- Thought you'd change your mind.

That wasn't me. That was the boil.

I've heard all
about your boil, Mr Bagley.

- Now, you tuck in and enjoy it.
- It's no good.

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't eat.
I can't move my arm.

Looks like you're doing fine to me.

Oh, my God! Nurse!

It's the boil shaking it!

- It's the boil! Aah! Aah!
- Mmm.

Aah! Ah!

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God! Aah!

Oh, Jesus! Oh! Oh, my God!

He's got my hand! He's got my arm!

You think I'd let a little pipsqueak
like you undermine society,

ruin everything we've got?

Piss like you needs dealing with!
You're the enemy within!

Nurse! Nurse! Nurse! Nurse!

Do you think I could have a pillow?

Yes, of course.

Thank you, Debbie.
May I call you Debbie?

You're talking to the wrong head!

Sorry, dear. I get these nasty spasms.

Help! Help! Help! Help!

Shut up! I've had enough of you!

Mmph!

Help! Help! Help! Help! Help!

- Help! Help!
- Put some pressure on his arm.

No! No! It's the boil! Aah!

Don't you worry, old man.
You have a little sleep.

It'll all be over in the morning.

- Mm!
- Help! Help!

No!

No, don't! Don't lance the wrong...

head...

John. Bagley. I want to see you.

No, no. Just a couple of fuses blew.
Stitches coming out in a week.

Listen, we've got to talk
about this pimple cream.

Yeah, yeah, I know he has.
Forget the problems.

I'll take care of the problems.

They're gonna love waiting for it.

It's a massacre.

But I've gotta warn you,
at first it might sound ridiculous.

It's radical and not without its risks,
but I'm certain I can pull it off.

And what it is, is Lawrence of Arabia

and a little town called Aqaba.

The last thing they expected
was for Lawrence

to come roaring across the desert
and attack them from behind.

It seemed impossible.
And because it was impossible,

all their defences faced the wrong way.

And that's how I want
to sell this pimple cream.

I want to come in from behind,
where they least expect me,

just like Lawrence of Arabia.

Now. As I see it, we've gotta
forget this for at least three months.

I estimate that
as the very minimum we need

to create the ravenous market I'm after.

- And how are you gonna do that?
- By glamorising boils.

- Glamorise them?
- That's right.

I want to make them fashionable.

I want to encourage every kid
to take a pride in his breakouts.

I want to sell them the idea
that boils are beautiful.

If I can do that, I can treble
the market at a minimum.

That's absurd.

To sell atom bombs,
you've got to sell fear.

If you want to sell this pimple cream,
you've got to encourage pimples.

How?

People try and put us down

Talkin' about my generation

Just because we get around

Talkin' about my generation

Things they do look awful cold

Talkin' about my generation

I hope I die before I get old

Talkin' about my generation

This is my generation

This is my generation, baby

Why don't you all just fade away?

Talkin' about my generation

Don't try to dig what we all say

Talkin' about my generation

I'm not trying to cause
a big sensation

Talkin' about my generation

I'm just talkin' about my generation

Talkin' about my generation
This is my generation

This is my generation
Talkin' about my generation

This is my generation

This is my generation, baby?
Talkin' about my...

Cut! Cut! One more, boys. Get it right.

- Open the doors.
- Gotta go, Bagley.

- Richard, are you free Saturday?
- Yeah.

Julia's putting a party together.
It's our anniversary.

If you like, we'd love you along.

Oh! What are you doing?

Wake up, man! We're in mortal peril!

- How'd it go?
- Terrific.

- She's gonna be terrific.
- The stitches.

Terrific. Didn't feel a thing.

Coming up to bed, darling?

Mm, in a minute. Just watching this.

- It's fascinating.
- What is it?

A thriller.

Don't be too long,
because I'm practically dead.

I didn't know you'd invited Penny.

Of course I invited Penny. You'd better
be nice to her, cos she's my friend.

Poor Penny. I'm surprised she'd come.

I suppose she does it
out of some sort of social duty,

like organising Dutch caps
for the Hindus.

It's nearly eight. Hurry up.

There's just this little piece
of neck here I need to kiss.

You're looking very summery, Penny.

Thank you.
It's a Meilleur, made in India.

Happy anniversary, darling.

Are you having an affair, Julia?

- No.
- Then what's up?

Oh, I don't know.
I'm just so wound up about Dennis,

terrified his thing
will start talking again.

- Well, it hasn't, has it?
- Not exactly.

But I had this terrible, terrible dream,
Penny, a nightmare,

- and I can't get it out of my head.
- Mrs Bagley, the musicians are here.

Tell them to come in, Sylvia,
do whatever they like.

We can't talk here.
Come and have a drink.

It said Dennis wasn't my husband.
It said it was.

And it said it with
this horrible sort of mouth.

It said Dennis is an incarnation
of evil with a briefcase.

It kept going on about a briefcase.

Then it said, "Zero, zero, zero,"
again and again and again.

- And what's "Zero, zero, zero"?
- It's horrendous. I don't know.

- And that's it?
- No.

Then it told me to get an electric
carving knife and cut his head off.

It's not funny, Penny. It's the most
terrifying experience of my life.

- So real, it could have been real.
- Have you told Dennis?

Of course not. The last thing
I want to do is excite him.

I tell you, Penny, I'm still
waiting to scream about it.

- Come along.
- Along where?

- We're gonna look in the case.
- Don't be so silly.

Dennis doesn't even have a briefcase.
He loathes them.

- Uses an old doctor's bag.
- Then, with all due respect,

I hardly see that I should be
the one accused of being silly.

It's you that's had the silly dream.

And, under the circumstances,
I'm surprised you get to sleep at all.

I personally would be up
all night with a revolver.

It's not just the dream, Penny.

Ever since Dennis came out of hospital,

he's been peculiar, sexually.

He's obsessed
with blackheads and fucking.

- And not in that order.
- But you've always adored fucking.

Not when I'm cleaning my teeth, I don't!
Not when I'm doing anything, I don't.

The truth is, Penny,
I can't bear him touching me.

I don't know why, but I can't.
I'm running out of headaches.

He's absolutely sex mad.

Yesterday evening, he said
he wished I had nipples on my arse.

Don't!

That's just the least of it.

Lord, they're arriving.
I'll tell you about this later.

You breathe a word of this to anyone,
Penny, and I'll absolutely kill you.

- Hello.
- Ah!

- Hello, darling.
- Mm! Dying for a pee. This is Monica.

- Hello, Monica. Come and have a drink.
- Thank you.

- Penny Wheelstock.
- Hello.

- This is the most lovely room.
- Thank you.

And, uh, how long have you been married?

- Seven years.
- Congratulations.

- Snap.
- Sorry?

- You're wearing Le De. Givenchy.
- Oh!

It's my totally favourite scent,
and they've stopped making it.

Have they? I bought it in Marbella.

Did you? Well, you're lucky.
It's extinct.

Richard, darling,
can I get something over with?

- Then we can all forget about it.
- Sure.

I didn't really want to have this party.
I thought we might be rushing it a bit.

Dennis's psychiatrist thinks it's a good
idea to get him back into the swim.

But he's all right, isn't he?

- I've never seen him on such good form.
- Absolutely. He's fine.

But he just had his stitches out,
so naturally, we're a bit apprehensive.

So if anything happens,
which I'm certain it won't,

the idea is we all
sort of go along with him.

- We humour him, discreetly.
- Not exactly, Penny.

We just behave normally.
I don't want him excited.

- I certainly don't want any arguments.
- What's the matter with him?

He was overworked and nearly had
a breakdown, but he's much better now.

You're alive.

Can you speak?

You don't look at all well, you know.

Not being a medical man,
I wouldn't take my word for it,

but I'd say you had the mark.

You look like a doomed bollock.

- I want to speak to my wife.
- Oh, you can talk, can you?

Let me speak to Julia,
and I swear I'll never speak again.

Speak to her of what, boil?

I want her to see my film. Please?

Oh, so that's what's
worrying you, is it?

Well, let me put your mind at rest.

Firstly, on a purely ideological basis,

it's out of the question.

And second, I burnt it.

- Oh, no!
- Oh, yes.

And prepare yourself for another
little fluctuation of blood pressure,

cos it's not the only thing I've burnt.

- I've also burnt Julia's diaphragm.
- Oh, no!

Oh, yes! It's time Julia had a baby.

- Ogre!
- Hopefully a baby boy-bol.

You are a criminal ogre.

It's all quite normal, boil.

Now, I intend to commence
vigorous intercourse at about one am.

I don't want to go too far
into the details of what this might mean,

but if I was you,
I'd have an early night.

Cut your throat, monster.

In the name of humanity,
cut your filthy throat.

Don't start getting emotional.

I'll do everything I can to harm you!

You can't harm me,
you miserable little bit of garbage.

You'll be dead in a couple of days,

so why don't you try and do it
with some dignity?

Dignity? You're corruption.

Julia! Julia!

50 per cent of politics
is about creating a problem.

The other 50 percent
is about offering to solve it.

All you've got to do
is bugger something up,

then hasten to your nearest
TV station with a solution.

Doesn't matter what it is.
The environment, hospitals, crime...

Create a crime wave and up will pop some
perfectly plausible head-selling police.

- The rock through the window technique.
- That's exactly what it is.

It might work on everyone else.
It doesn't work on me.

If you breathe air, it works on you.
Large one, no ice, please, Richard.

If you're aware of it, how can you bear
to work in an industry that perpetuates it?

It's probably a defect from birth.
Come and rescue me. I'm being attacked.

- Who's attacking you?
- Penelope here.

She's telling me off because
I think your husband's a genius.

It's outrageous that Dennis should be
allowed to manipulate children's minds.

There is the dear boy. Come along.
I want to ask you both a question.

Is that him?

- He's very good-looking.
- If you like that sort of thing.

- Julia seems terribly tense.
- Surprised? It's him.

He had an operation.
Went weird in the bed department.

- What do you mean?
- Sex. Hello, Basil.

- Hello, Penny. Lovely party.
- Super.

- Apparently, he's insatiable.
- Really?

Dick, dick, dick, dick, dick.

Shouldn't really be telling you this.
It was said in the strictest of confidence.

And that's exactly how I'm telling you.

She said he's got a permanent horn.

- Really?
- She said she's desperate.

The other night, she woke up
and caught him

down the bed
with a huge black rubber torch.

- Torch?
- Flashlight.

- Doing what?
- Scrutinising.

He was under the covers.
Said he'd lost something. Contact lens.

Said he didn't want to wake her up.

And unlucky for her that he did,
cos she got another hour's worth.

I'm not going to make a speech.
I'd just like to thank you all for coming

and for making our anniversary
so special.

And most of all, I'd like
to thank Julia for organising it all

and for being such a special wife.

How about a toast to Bagley and Julia?

- Bagley and Julia.
- Bagley and Julia.

I'd also like to propose
a small snifter to our new star.

- I thought she was coming.
- She is, she's been held up.

- To Phyllis Blokey.
- Phyllis.

- Phyllis.
- Blokey.

- She's the singer with the boils.
- To boils, acne and blackheads.

What's this cream
going to be called, anyway?

Don't know yet. Right now we're stuck
with "Filthy Harry's Final Solution".

- Who's Filthy Harry?
- You know, Harry Wax. Creative.

- The only man here in a hired suit.
- He's as close as a Doberman's balls.

Don't want to say
anything bad about him.

- Then don't.
- This is excellent.

Yes, I was about to say,
I notice Penny's gone carnivorous.

- She lacked protein.
- And minerals.

I wasn't getting all I needed
out of normal green stuff.

I don't think anyone would ever
encourage me to grow boils.

You're not the market
I'm after, darling.

But if you were, I would.

I could sell you anything
from a boil to a hydrogen bomb.

- I don't think so. I'm anti-nuke.
- Hear, hear.

How's the new book coming along, Penny?

Shall I tell you why people
buy hydrogen bombs?

Because they're not like
the bombs people used to use in wars.

We put an added ingredient
into bombs these days.

It's called peace.

Our warheads are stuffed
to the brim with it.

We're years ahead
of the competition, of course.

- The Russians don't put peace in theirs.
- Very good, Bagley.

Can anyone think of a discreet
way of changing the subject?

I'm sorry, Julia. I'm afraid
Dennis is absolutely right.

There's a splendid example of what
he's talking about outside our building.

- Ever looked at it?
- Can't say as I have.

Well, there's an obelisk there
to the glory of the Royal Marines,

and it's a plaque depicting a Marine
shoving his bayonet into a Chinaman's guts.

He's so shocked, his pigtail's
sticking up like an exclamation mark.

And underneath it says,
"Shanghai Campaign, 1898."

Imagine seeing that in Peking.
A plaque of a Chinaman

pumping his bayonet into
an Englishman halfway up Regent Street,

a bowler hat, levitating in shock,

and underneath,
"West London Campaign, 1898."

Why don't you shut your trap,
you cynical old anus?

A joke. Just a joke.

Don't think the bandages might be
a bit on the tight side, Bagley?

No. Perfect, thank you.

Julia! Julia!

Are you all right, darling?

Marvellous.

Would you excuse me for a moment?

I tell you, he's absolutely barking.

Criminal. You filthy criminal!

Shut up, you little moron!
I'd like to wring your bastard neck!

Do it, then. Do it.
Put me out of my misery.

Oh, no, not yet,
you unwholesome pustule.

I want you to live just a bit longer.

I want you around tonight
when the shagging begins.

Tasty bit of glue, is it?

Here, have another suck.

Let's hear you squawk now.

So I chaffed them and I gaily laughed

To think they would doubt my love

Yet today, my love has gone away

I am without my love

Come on, Julia. Come and dance.

Not now, darling.

Come on. I insist.

Go on. It's his anniversary.

Smoke gets in your eyes

- Have you got a cold?
- Not my drug.

I know that smell. Givenchy.

Oh! You don't have to hold me
quite so tightly, Dennis.

Sorry. Afraid the clinch
is the only dance I know.

Heh.

Oh, Julia. Julia, darling.

No. Monica.

I know.

Julia. Please don't scream or pull away.

We might never get this chance again.

It's difficult for me to talk,
because my sinuses are full of glue.

You're not wearing a bra.

Not really.

I love you. I love you desperately.

This isn't a dream. It's reality.

Don't speak. Just listen. I'm desperate.

You're going to need a condom,
and quick!

The fucking's going to start
in about an hour,

and believe me, you're going
to have a monster on top of you.

Aah!

Stay away from me! Keep away!

Has the bastard been whispering to you?
Bastard! Bastard!

- It's all right.
- Bastard!

Oh!

Everything's under control.
Please stay and enjoy the party.

- Sorry.
- Monica?

I'm sorry, Julia, but I think
your husband's completely bananas!

Going along with someone is not the same
as listening to a tirade of obscenity!

- What did he say?
- I can't tell you.

- I'm sorry, Julia.
- Bye, darling.

- Lovely party.
- Thank you.

- Richard, your case.
- Oh, no, it's not mine.

It belongs to Bagley.
He left it at the studio.

Boil?

Boil!

Boil.

Boil!

Can you hear me, boil?

Where has he hidden the briefcase?

The world is in danger, Julia.

The greed is out of control.

Greed is abolishing the future.

It's turning truth
inside out and upside down.

And this is its poisonous mouthpiece.

Oh, Christ, I think I've woken him up.
I'll have to be quick.

What I have to explain
is the mechanics of a holocaust.

And I'm not talking
about atom bombs, darling.

I'm talking about hamburgers.

I had a nasty feeling
I was going to have to wake up to this.

If I was you, Julia, I'd turn this off.

- It's only going to upset you.
- You see what a nightmare I'm in.

You see why I can't talk to you.

- Who are you talking to, then?
- God, it converses!

- I'm talking to it.
- I need a cigarette.

- Be silent, you Moloch.
- Moloch?

Yes, yes, you, you Moloch, you bogey!

If you insist we have to listen
to this bullshit, I need a cigarette.

All right, I'll get you one,
but on one condition.

That you keep quiet
while you're smoking it.

Don't turn off, darling.
60 seconds, and I'll be back.

Penny said you had a bad dream.

Did she? Well, she shouldn't have.

She said the boil had spoken to you.

It didn't. Believe me, it didn't.

- It told me where you'd hidden the case.
- It didn't.

I told you where I'd put the briefcase.

I didn't dare wake up and ask

why you decided to vacuum clean me
in the middle of the night.

I told you where I'd put the case

because I'm all too aware of the tension
you've been trying to conceal.

And, painful though it is for me,

I thought by letting you
discover the film for yourself,

it would have some sort
of therapeutic effect.

There'd be no more secrets,
nothing left to hide.

I realise, of course, that was foolish.

If the boil didn't speak to me,
how did I know the combination?

Because it's written up in the kitchen.

It's been on the bulletin board
for weeks.

You must have seen it 200 times.

I never noticed noticing it.

It's on a red and white receipt.
I'll go and get it, if you like.

I realise I've been very selfish.

So busy thinking
of the stress I was under,

I'd completely forgotten
what a terrible time it's been for you.

I really don't want you
to watch this, darling.

I intended to burn it.
It's only going to upset you.

I'm already upset.

Please be quiet.

Are you there? I pray you're there.

I've just seen you in the kitchen.
I know you think I'm crazy,

but in a minute, I'll show you my film

and you can judge
my madness for yourself.

Everything's assembled from my old ads.

All I've done is re-edit them,
re-voice them and put in the truth.

No truth ever gets out of here.

They've got this bastard by the balls.

Greed has installed its lackeys
into the highest offices in this land,

and they're conducting
a crime wave of unprecedented ferocity.

Anywhere you want
to look, they're at it.

Oil companies sold
as champions of the environment.

Wild animals prancing
through the woodlands.

Meanwhile, the filth from their cars
is wiping out half the forests of Europe.

- I can't listen to any more of this.
- You swore you'd be quiet!

Yeah, but I'd forgotten
what a nightmare you are.

I want to be heard. I want to be heard!

- I want a drink.
- Then get it yourself.

Jesus, I've forgotten
what I was going to say.

I believe you were about to explain

why hamburgers are going
to be the cause of World War III.

That's right, you cynical bastard.

- We're all ears.
- How can you argue with the television?

Because this poor, sick creature
with a box on his head was me.

I know exactly what I'm going to say.

Destruction of the rainforests
by, amongst other things, hamburgers,

is going to lead to a world commodity crisis,
and the commodity will be oxygen.

- What mad bollocks.
- It is not mad bollocks.

They're turning rainforests
into deserts.

Within 25 years, the Brazilians
will be fixing oxygen prices

in exactly the same way
as the Arabs fix the price for oil.

- No more!
- You want the air, you pay for it.

- No more!
- Leave it on, Dennis!

I want to watch the film!

I don't know how you can say that.

You know what this does to me,
reliving this nightmare?

Look at him. He's got a cigarette stuck
in his bandages. The man's mad.

Why do you keep
calling him him? It's you!

All right, me. It was me. But I was ill.

You were the one that said so.
You can't have it both ways, darling.

You said I needed help, and I got help,
and now I'm better,

which is why I can't bear
to watch this dreadful insanity.

Insanity?
You still want to sell 'em boils!

Nothing crazy about that.
It's a free market.

People will either buy
or they won't buy.

Nobody's forcing them.
Everyone knows what they're getting.

- Perhaps they don't.
- Of course they do.

People might be a bit greedy
from time to time,

but we're not blind,
we've got our eyes open.

- We have a choice.
- Perhaps.

Stop saying perhaps!
What's perhaps got to do with it?

Perhaps they don't.

Perhaps if they'd hanged Jesus Christ,

we'd all be kneeling
in front of a fucking gibbet!

That isn't the real world.

In the real world, I have a choice.

Do I want it, or don't I?

And in this case,
I most certainly do not.

"I thought leaving you
was going to be so difficult.

"But the impossible becomes easy
when you have no choice.

"I want something better now
that can't be bought.

"I want a better world
than yours is, Dennis.

"I'm not gonna try and explain it,

"because I know you couldn't
possibly understand.

"Goodbye. Julia."

God, how can you be so naive?

Everything you've ever
looked at was yours.

What more could you possibly want?

- The truth.
- Shut up, you dozy scab!

I thought you were dead.

Not for nothing, cos she's free.

You lose. You lose.

Oh, no I don't.

You're talking
to Dennis Dimbleby Bagley.

And let me tell you something, boil.

She's got nowhere to go.

We're living in a shop.

The world is one magnificent
fucking shop,

and if it hasn't got a price tag,
it isn't worth having.

There is no greater freedom
than freedom of choice,

and that's the difference
between you and me, boil.

I was brought up to believe in that,
and so should you, but you don't.

You don't want freedom, do you?
You don't even want roads.

God, I never want to go on
another train as long as I live.

Roads represent
a fundamental right of man

to have access
to the good things in life.

Without roads, established family favourites
would become elitist delicacies.

A pot of soup would be for the few.

There'd be no more tea bags,
no instant potatoes, no long-life cream.

There'd be no aerosols.
Detergents would vanish.

So would tinned spaghetti
and baked beans with six frankfurters.

The right to smoke one's
chosen brand would be denied.

Chewing gum would probably disappear.
So would pork pies.

Foot deodorisers would climax
without hope of replacement.

When the hydrolysed protein and
monosodium glutamate reserves ran out,

food would rot in its packets.

Jesus Christ,
there wouldn't be any more packets.

Packaging would vanish
from the face of the earth.

But worst of all,
there'd be no more cars.

And more than anything,
people love their cars.

They have a right to them.
If they have to sweat all day

in some stinking factory making
disposable lighters or Christmas trees,

by Christ, they're entitled to them.

They're entitled to
any innovation technology brings,

whether it's ten per cent more of it
or 15 per cent off of it!

They're entitled to it.

They're entitled to one
of four important new ingredients.

Why should anyone have to clean their
teeth without important new ingredients?

Why the hell shouldn't they
have their CZT?

How dare some snotty Marxist carbuncle
presume to deny them it?

They love their CZT!

They want it! They need it!
They positively adore it!

By Christ, while I've got air
in my body, they're going to get it!

They're gonna get it bigger
and brighter and better!

I'll put CZT in their
margarine if necessary,

shove vitamins in their toilet rolls.

If happiness means the whole world

standing on a double layer
of foot deodorisers,

I, Bagley, will see that they get them!

I'll give them anything
and everything they want!

By God, I will!

I shall not cease

till Jerusalem is builded here

on England's green and pleasant land!