All language subtitles for Vacuuming Completely Nude in ParadiseEnglish

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It's Throat's last day.

Retiring?

Dying.

He's only got two weeks to live.
Can't sell any more.

Voice gone.

Upset because he wanted to die
on the knocker.

There GOES a salesman.

You a manager, then?

I do the music.
She's my girlfriend.

Don't you mind?

I want her to stop.
But I can't find work.

What do you do?

Mix music.

Lot of call for that kind
of work, then?

No, it's an interest.

You'll have to support her, son.

What about selling?
Look at me, I made it.

And I've got a glass eye.

All right, all right. Bloody hell.
I'll take my bra off.

The fuck with that.

Get off me.
Don't touch me.

Go on away, you bastard.

Quiet, please!

Thank you, my dear.

And thank you to the generous soul who
booked this striptease for Throat.

We'll all miss you, sir.

Get any coin we're owed
and get out of here.

I'm black and bloody blue
from these bastards.

Leads have been shared and
the week is nearly through.

All that's left now is for me
to say a few words.

You have a floodlight inside.

It is as big as your body.

And when you think you're through.
And you've done enough.

There is the trigger to turn it on.

And, BAM! Take them by surprise!
Dazzle their eyes!

They will stand in your beam and
they will buy.

You have a purpose.
You have a mission.

Your next sale is lying there behind
every 'No, thank you' that you receive.

Like a diamond, it is there.
Waiting, glinting. See it.

Reach for it. Have it.

Go for it. You can do it.

You can do it because
YOU are SALESMEN!

As you know,

The companies have thrust us up to our
elbows in the Treasure Chest.

An outstanding product. Unrivalled
commission packages. And now,

And now, they are pouring prizes
upon our heads.

I'm talking top salesman...the two week
booty in Benidorm.

The Golden, The Golden Vac.

Speed on, come through, roll out
those vacs. What are we in?

The greatest game alive.

You got it. You got it.

High five it, high five it!

We are in, we are in, we are in,
we are in.

He's dead.

I'm sick of this job, sick of it.

- Well, you don't have to do it no more.
- What are you going on about now?

-You don't have to do this work no more.
-Oh, no. No, no, no. Not this again.

You're off in your own little world,
aren't you? Hi-Fi-ette.

Where's the coin coming from?

- I said I'd stop when you got a job.
- I got one.

I don't mean mixing cassettes for
the teenagers down the lane.

It's not nothing.
I got myself a job.

See what it can do.
We are the attached.

It's got a mind of its own,
this little rascal.

Watch it gulp. Light, light, light
as a long balloon.

He can't hold it, Tommy.
- What?

He can't because his hand
is withered.

No, but she can, can't she?

Well, sit down, sit down,
sit down. Go on.

Go on, you've worked hard, you
deserve it. Sit down.

Have a bit of cake. Finish your tea.

Right.

There now.

Easy.

Light, hmm? Light, you'll agree?

And yet, it's got a powerful
suck on it, too.

Turn it up full, you'll have Australian
shoes in the room before you know it.

Not only that, it'll do your furniture,
your curtains,

Your ceilings, your corners,
under the cooker, over the door.

Over the door.

Crevices cringe and cry when they
see this coming.

I couldn't say that again. It wouldn't
sound, not with my teeth.

No, it'll do you the absolute lot, this.

Mr. and Mrs. Tucker. If I may...

Lorna and Edward. If I may...

Lo and Ted. Have it.

Possess it.

Go on.
You know you want it.

- We like it.
- We can't afford it.

Can't afford it? Can't afford it.

Don't give me that. You can if
I lop a hundred off.

No, no, no, no, no, no. Don't agree yet.
Do not agree yet.

Because I really, really want
you to have this machine.

I'm going to swallow.
I'm going to lose.

I'm going to take it and I'm going to
to lop another fifty off.

So you can get out and get yourself
a slap-up meal on me.

- Ta.
- Sign here

I'm not going. 'Til you do.

There. 'Tis yours.
Beauty, isn't it?

Leave it there in the
middle of the room.

Look at it a while before
you use it.

Tarrah, must dash.

- Ciao.
- Tarrah.

- Listen you, never, never interfere
when I'm selling. - He couldn't hold it.

- He's got his other hand,
doesn't he? - No.

Well, he can shove it up his
fucking ass. I don't care.

- We're moving vacs here, pal, not
doing physiotherapy on him. - Okay.

'He can't move it, Tommy.' When I
was on my first round...

If I'd come in with piss like that...

The old salesman I was with would
have took me outside...

And kicked me hard on my face and he'd
be bang on right for doing it and all.

Lesson Number One laddy-boy.
If they waver,

Seize the dithering bastards.
Don't give them no quarter.

Here, let's have something
for the road in there.

- Do you live in here?
- Usually. Pass me that there.

Got to if you want to be number one.

- What, you sleep here all the time?
- No.

- Sometimes motel or Ruby's.
- Who's Ruby?

You are new, aren't you?
Ruby the showroom slag.

Here, pass me that Puffa Puffa rice.
Quickly!

Rule Number Two. Always start the
day with a good breakfast.

- No thanks. - What, you don't have one
in the morning? - I don't smoke.

- Are you a fucking health freak
or what? - No.

- You don't smoke? - No.
- You'll have to give that up.

What's your favourite football team?

Who's your favourite Page Three?

What do you like then?

Dance music.

I don't play. I just write but
I mix it a bit.

Tell me something.
What, what's your name?

Pete.

- Pete.
- Pete. Tell me something, Pete

How'd you come for this job, you?

I was at your office meeting with my
girlfriend. Weren't you there?

Tommy don't go to them.

Too busy selling to listen to losers
get pissed and talk about selling.

Anyway, they all fucking
hate me there.

- I met Sidney there.
- Say no more. Press Gang Sid.

It was the night that Throat died.

Throad died? I didn't know.
Did he leave any leads?

Too late, those jackals will be going
for his stomach even as we speak.

He was almost gone when they took
him on. Desperate bastard.

No other company would've touched
him in that state.

Could've sell him my mum
in the fucking end.

Listen, Pete. I don't want to
disillusion you, mate,

They take on any twat.
And I mean any twat.

Train them for two days and if you don't
perform, scratch them off right there.

Not me, I'm going to make a
real go of this.

- All right.
- It's the greatest game going.

Yeah, the same to you,
you fucking bum bandit.

Bit of luck if it's a road race to
get you going every morning.

Better than caffeine.

- So, you've got a bride, then.
- Eh?

- A girlfriend, you said.
- Oh, Sheila.

- What's she do then?
- Eh?

The bride.

- Nothing. - Nothing?
- Yeah. - Oh, sponger.

No, no, she was the one who
was working.

- What does she do?
- Strip-o-gram.

- Heh?
- Strip-o-gram.

I thought that's what you said.
Fuck me, a stripper.

- Strip-o-gram.
- You got a picture? - No.

- Stripper, eh?

French Maid? Traffic Warden?
St. Trinian's?

Wee Ride?

- Quick pit stop. - Eh?
- My flat.

- I thought you... - I don't
fucking sleep there. It stinks.

Come in. Make yourself at home
Here, have a toss.

Who the fuck's that?

Hello. You owe me money.

It was my lead, you prick. I fucking
found it for you, you know it was.

Don't fucking argue back.

Yeah, I'm up for Salesman of the Year.
Friday night. Golden Vac.

They saddled me with this swot of a
trainee. Holding me back a bit.

No he's not listening. Are you?
Are you listening?

Too busy looking at my knob, I think.

Come on. Bring a vac or two.

Rule No. Three: Always have a vac ready
and cocked in case of a quick sale.

- Can I put the radio on?
- No.

I'll put this tape on that I mixed.

No. You can have a motivation tape
on though. One I made.

Got woofers on this car, you know.

'Sell, sell, fucking sell.
Sell, sell, sell, sell.'

'Sell, fucking sell, sell, sell, sell,
fucking sell, fucking sell, sell, sell.'

Watch out, watch out.

SELL!

Don't sell no bookends. We don't factory
shift no more.Two fucking miles an hour.

Get out the way.
I've got things to do.

So, do you think you'll get it then?

Eh?

The Top Salesman of the Year.
Two weeks in Benidorm.

I'll kill myself if I don't.

People say: 'What commission
do you want?'

And I say: I don't know, I don't care.
I'm on kamikaze commission.

Ours is to sell or die.

No one would do what I
would do for a sale.

No one, no one sifts where I sift.
Except that Rottweiler in Blackpool.

What's he called? Pockmark.
He does some.

You should see him. Looks like Jack
Palance but with skin of an alligator.

He does some. Otherwise,
they've no chance.

They're all behind me. They're so little
in the distance, they make me sick.

Anyway, they come too close to me,
I'll bite them.

- I've got to wee, I've got to wee.
- Oh, for fuck's sake.

It'll do your absolute lot. An amazing
machine. Locks so hard to the ground.

It'll go right round your seals,
around your wheels.

It'll do your carpet. This will get any
bit of grime. It'll just suck it up.

It lifts the felt, lifts the mat.

Go on get over there.
You there. Now hold that.

Now look at that. Look at the
strength of that. It's amazing.

It's not heavy at all. Look, little
finger. Look at that.

This is the strength of those wheels.
You can even do your lawn with it.

Now look at that.

Like a balloon, look.

Look at that.

- Bye. - Bye-bye.
- Bye Tommy.

Quick detour to base.

- Do you know what it's like to work a
place where everybody hates you? - No.

Invigorating.

Come on.

Blue.

Pink. Wrong.

- Nearly.
- No where near.

Who cares. I get a look.

Cock-a-doodle-doo.

Where's the chicken house gone?

I'm not sure. Nobody tells me anything.

Only last week, this was the chicken
house. Three old broilers on telephones.

Smoking like chimneys. Taking calls
for leads between coughing fits.

I used to put my head in the door
like a rooster.

They'd all squawk and squeal and call
for the manager. It was only last week.

They've knocked it all into one.

Look at it. It's socket city.

Bloody hellfire.

Who's this?

What was that? Stone Cheeks?

Why do I feel like twenty pairs of
frozen high heels walked over my grave?

It's Uki. She's here to set up
a website and internet for us.

I know.

FishnetInternetStockings@CyberKnickers.

ForILaptop/YouLapBottom.co.uk.org
orgy.bennyhill.tits....com. Great.

Now then, what's the latest?
How am I doing?

- All right.
- Anything else?

Tommy, not harassing my staff
again, are you?

No, Mr. Ron. Just discussing with Stone
Cheeks the latest gen on the Golden Vac.

Just thinking about what to move on my
mantelpiece. What sun tan oil to buy.

Arrogance.

It's not all over yet, Rag.

Did you not see the latest pile the
Bond girl took through there?

Doesn't mean you're a salesman.

Sales make a salesman.

- I think there's a bit more to it
than that. - Than what?

Than a spieler who operates without any
ethics. Doing anything for a sale.

At least I'm honest.

About what I do and how I do it.
Not like the rest of you hypocrites.

Walk in this place these days, you got
to watch you don't skid on the smarm.

'Tis yours. 'Tis yours.

- Hi all.
- Hi.

Pete. Remember, the other night?
You gave me Throat's place.

How're you doing? Keep it up.
Nice to see you.

Who the fuck was that?

And what's the idea of putting me with
that lame health freak.

What do you mean?

In the last days run up to the
competition. Holding me back.

Was returned as not suitable material.

You're returning him, are you? If you
can't cope, I'll send him with Randolph.

Oh, no, no, no. Send some more
if you want. Do what you want.

Tape a piece of dog crap to my cheek,
I'll still sell more than all of you.

Chain a cannonball to my leg,
I'll still win.

And have the chain, the ball, and the
fucking cannon thrown in to the bargain.

You think you've got all the answers,
don't you? With your big mouth and...

Your outdated bloody, bloody
blunderbuss tactics.

Now, now.

You will see.

No, I won't. You don't like me but
you like my results.

You'd sack me if you could but you can't.

So doo-ron-a-ron, adieu, Ron-Ron.

Bugger me, you live here?

Where? I don't see habitation unless
you're Top Cat.

- Let me off. This one here.
- Where's the house?

Next to the boarded up one here.

Well.

I thought mine was bad. You are poor.

See you. Workhouse.

- You all right.
- Just Clayface was there again.

- She's always there. - She's always
staring. - She's mad.

I tell her to fuck off and go and be
Claywoman in an American comic book.

Anyway, how did it go?

- Good. Good.
- Good.

Good? Is that it?

Come on. I want to know how
you got on.

You're back early.

You've not been sacked, have you?
Because I'm warning you,

No, I got dropped off.

- By the bloke you're with.
- Yeah.

- What's he called.
- Tommy Rag.

Is he all right?

He's great. Nice bloke.

He'll be the first salesman that is.

You need more gumption than this, Pete.
And I've got an idea to give it to you.

Come here, something to motivate
you to the top, like a rocket.

Remember: Pussycats.

Not 'til you've made your first sale.

No, 'til you've made your first sale.

Come on, Workhouse.

- What's Rule No. Four?
- I don't know.

What's Rule No. Four?

I don't know.

Rule No. Fucking Four, pal is don't
piss around keeping me waiting.

Seconds lead to sales. Pockmark could've
had his Puffa Puffa and be off by now.

If you're not there next time,
I'll fuck off and leave you.

Here.

Get that suit on if you want
to be with me.

Go on.

It's an old one but it's a favourite
so don't shit in it, all right.

And out go the rags.
You won't be needing those again.

My clothes!

- So, I was wondering...
- Yeah?

- Can I sell today? - What?
- On my own? - Go on.

You want as many sales for Benidorm.
You can have mine but let me make them.

You give me commission or you can
share the commission.

Go on then. Sell in there.

One thing,

Poor areas like this - get out when
you're done, they're clean-cooked.

Rule fucking whatever, take no
sob stories, no hesitation.

As quick as you can, withdraw.
Get out like a spent knob.

Boot!

Twenty weeks. Two pound twelve.

- Yes? - I'm here to make life easier.
Something I'd like to talk about.

Come in.

Dreadful cold, isn't it? I've not got
the fire up too high, I owe all over.

Sorry it's such a mess. It's hard when
you're on your own with four children.

It's a vacuum, see. Can I plug it in?

If you like, there's a whatsit
somewhere.

The other one broke. Someone took it to
fix but he never brought it back.

- It does everything.
- That's nice.

This place could do with a good going
over and right through, it's a mess.

It's fearful hearts keep the house
going. I've fearful little coming in.

My grandma offered to take photos of me
to send to one of them filthy magazines.

You get paid.

There was a woman three streets away,
was one of them reader's wives.

People still ask her for her autograph.

Who'd want to look at me in my
fearful condition?

Granny says there's a magazine called
'Bony Bints' or something, that might.

I don't know. She's looking
into it for me.

She knows from her boyfriend. They call
him Barbecue Harold. Do you know him?

No. His fingers are like burnt sausages.
Been in too many pies.

I don't know how she lets him
near her. I don't really.

Where would we take them? Every room in
the house is like this: humble & shit.

- Who'd want to look at a nude in such
conditions? - This'll help you clear up.

My grandma did it in the '50s. I have
a photo of her somewhere.

She's sitting astride a rolled up
carpet in a kitchen.

The place is not bad but you can just see
a bike wheel and washing up in the sink.

- Where is it?
- It's all right. About the cleaner?

- Okay. - Eh? - I'll take it.

It's very nice and from what you said,
it should do the trick.

I bought some books before off a
man off the door.

There they are over there:
Kings and Queens of England.

Never looked at them.
I don't read well.

But a bargain's a bargain, and as I say,
it's nice to know they're there.

And there's my tick, my telly and sky.

I find when your benefits come in, all
your debts go at it like pigs or hogs.

You carry on.

But I'm fearful honest about my debt.
Whatever it takes, I never miss.

We've been on gravy and bread and
I've never missed my catalogue.

Only me.

- Who's that? Your boss?
- Yeah.

Let him in.

Hello.

You're signing then?

It can help me clear up.

Just sign. He'll fill in the rest.

I want it clean for my pictures.

- Pictures?
- She's posing nude.

To send off.

I know about that.

I've got a camera if you want me to
do it. A camera in the car.

What poses were you considering?

No, it's okay. My grandma's got one you
don't need to send off to the developer.

Fair enough. Enjoy your vac.
There it stands, 'tis yours.

Look at it a while before you use it.
Beauty, isn't it?

- 'Tis yours.
- Goodbye.

- You did it, well done! How's it feel?
- I feel great, I've sold it.

What are you looking for?

- I want to see your camera.
- Camera? I ain't got one.

-You told her... -I'd have made one from
the Puffa Puffa box to get a free look.

She'd not know the difference.

Anyway, probably use my digital.

Sad cow.

Right, onwards.

You're on your way, Workhouse.

Hey, come back here.

You're no longer the virgin. Now you've
done your first sale, it's your exams.

- Go through the rules!
- Um, er, rule one, give no quarter.

Rule two, good breakfast.
Three, keep vac cocked.

Four, seconds lead to sales.
Five, act like a spent knob.

- What's Rule Number Six?
- Come on, what?

Rule Number Six: There are no rules.
You've passed, see you, Pete.

I've sold. I've sold, d'you hear?

I've sold.

Did you sell?

Yeah.

- The music.
- That's right.

Come through.

Hurry. Hurry.

Cat wants her milky cream.

I can't.

- Have I done something?
- No, can I come in?

You can't afford it.

I've come to take it back.

Now, it's my last but you have it.
Not the kids, you. All right?

Hey mate, you haven't got the
time, have you?

Sorry.

Loser.

Sheila?

Sheila.

No.

Sheila.

Sheila.

Clayface, where is she?

Fucking hell.

1950.

1926.

1945.

The lady downstairs has collapsed in
there. She's in there all...collapsed.

And then, there was fire. Put it out. I
kicked the door. Oh God, I didn't know.

She's still lying there.
She's in there - dead!

Dead I tell you. Sheila's gone.

My Sheila left me.

I was in the street.

I went in there. You came.
I don't know what's happening.

Say something.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Say it. Go on, say it.
Docious-expi-ali-fragilistic-ali-super!

You're late!

You've got a partial picture of the 1966
England World Cup Squad on your forehead.

The late Bobby Moore and a quarter of
Martin Peters, if I'm not mistaken.

And on your chest,
the Apollo 11 mission.

In your navel, could be half of Diana
Dors, could be the Millennium Dome.

Then on each thigh, a serious suffragette
and three Prime Ministers.

And a zeppelin on the shin.

You're a veritable tabby-eared & scorched
scrapbook of the 20th century.

I don't want to know why.
I don't want to know how.

I've entered into Monty Python's missing
sketch. I would just like to remind you...

That today is the day of the night the
competition winner is announced.

And, as a consequence, all hands must be
on deck. All stops must be pulled.

- So, get your flipping ass in gear!
- How?

How can you talk like that?
When she's gone, GONE!

She's left me and, God I know, she'll
never come back!

And she is lying there!

Christ. Clearly no sale in here.

Another Stone Cheeks bites the dust.

Well, at least she's dead.
Could be worse.

Ill people make me sick.

We'll have to phone an ambulance.

- Bit late for that.
- Police.

- Can't we just leave her?
- Oh, no.

All right, all right.

But we're wasting valuable time here.
Pockmark'd leave her to the rats & mice.

I hate these fucking things.
Electrified Mars bars.

I short them on a daily basis, you know.

They won't work for me. I've got too
much electricity in my brains.

Come on.

Life. Like that. All gone.

What's it all about?

I had a dream last night, Workhouse.
I had a dream.

Came over the hill and black and white
people were having it off.

No?

Can't we cover her up?

Come on.

I do have a dream.

I saw that oriental bint
from the office.

She was, like, walking on air.

She was pushing a vac and that
was, like, on air.

And then she walked, like magic in her
trail, left smart young girls behind.

Taking into mikes at their mouths,
like Madonna.

Whole face is aglow from the
computer screen.

I couldn't get it. It was seductive,
as if something was being gathered.

Softly, guided in.

Not like my selling. Not like the
selling we know and hate.

At the last computer screen, she stepped
in, and I went in after her.

It was a tropical beach.
Blue sky, sea,

It was more than that.
More alive.

Like heaven.

Somehow I felt like my work was done.
There were no more vacuums left to sell.

And when I looked, she'd gone.

The vac was all alone on the beach.
Gold, it was.

Glittering in the sand. And I was going
up and down the beach with it.

I think it was plugged into the sun,
or something.

It felt odd, at first. But no fever,
the fever was gone.

Then I wasn't used to myself.

I'd all opened up inside, like a flower.
It was so beautiful.

I started crying.

There were tears everywhere.
I was completely nude.

I was vacuuming - completely nude -
in Paradise.

Workhouse, get upstairs, get the 20th
century off you, and get dressed NOW!

- Which service do you require?
- Emergency.

- Which service do you require?
- Emergency.

Which service do you require?
Please, which service do you require?

- Hello? - Emergency.
- Hello?

This day is going nowhere.

Come on, I'm losing ground. Feels
like my heels are in a pillow.

I know.

Where are we going?

To a sale that's nearly made.

I'm a venacous stroke away and if I'm
having it today,

We're going to see the Spaniard.

Adios, Tommy.

Why'd you do this? We're not Spanish.

We are somewhere. We've got
tango blood, and jet black hair.

Your hair's gray.

You've been like this since the salesman
came. Told you had a Spanish look.

He only said that to sell you a
vacuum cleaner.

You're just jealous.

It's all to get a sale.

El rubbish-o.

Buy one then.

I shall when I am ready.

And I know what you did upstairs.

He was just giving me a demonstration.
That is all.

It's all to sell.

Oh, shut up!

At least he comes. Nobody comes for you,
do they, you fatty virgin.

Thomas!

Spaniard.

Here it is.
And the little white bull.

Can we just try it upstairs on
the carpet again?

You know, before I make
my final decision.

If we must.

If we must.

- Have you warned him she's slow?
- He's not so quick himself.

Are you that salesman's friend?

Do you like my legs?

They feel heavy.

- Do you know a chocolate rep
called Terence? - No.

He was her friend before.
Her milk-train man.

- I'm touched.
- Oh?

Do you want a drink?

Coffee.

Pour us two glasses of
that shan-grilla.

- Oh no, I forgot the sangria.
- Never mind it.

I trust you're signing today.

Let us leave it until later.
I want more, Tommy. More, Tommy.

More. Oh, Tommy, more.
More, Tommy.

You're sad, aren't you?

I am. Yeah.

I can tell moods.

If I show you my bra,
will it cheer you up?

I always wear a sexy one.

It's big though.

Never mind us. Get back on.

She is a belle.

Darling!

Adios. Adios, Tommy.

Conquistador or what?

Anything, anything, anything,
anything for a sale.

What's happening to me?
What's happening to me?

- Shut up, or I'll fucking hit you.
- Go on then, kill me. I want to.

- What have I done? - Go in the dash,
there'll be something in there.

I don't want to end up with a fucking
tart. I fucking hate you.

Listen you!

I'm going to give you once chance
to pull yourself together.

If you don't fucking take it, I'm
fucking off and leaving you, right?

I shagged a slow girl.

So what?

Now, tonight's my night.
The Vac of Gold.

I'd have taken it but I would
have taken it in style.

With a handful of sales still
in my hand.

- What was that?
- Hitchhiker.

No, it's not, you blockhead. It's an
opportunity. Never miss an opportunity.

I've sold to hitchhikers before now.

Left them two junctions later clutching
their vac of their very own.

Not knowing what the fucking
darn deuce has gone on.

Hello, young man. Your lift is here.
Come in.

- What's your name? - De Kid.
- Hello, I'm De Tommy Rag.

- You're a salesman.
- How'd you guess?

No one else is so loud
in the morning.

- And now what do you do?
- Guess.

No, I'll give you a clue:
No one sits when I'm in a room.

You a Royal?

- Close, I'm a deejay.
- Oh, are you, I stand and cheer.

- Where are you going?
- Blackpool.

We're going there tonight. Big prizes.
What are you doing there?

A gig.

He's doing a jig what like you like.

His bird's dumped him.

She was a stripper, you know.
Look, before you get settled in.

How do you go about cleaning your
carpets in the home?

- I ain't got no home.
- Where d'you sleep?

Hotels, motels, audience, car seats,
back streets, settees, teepees,

Warehouses, shithouses, or,
I stay up all night.

- Where are you from?
- I don't know.

Bloody hell, I've picked up
Oliver Twist.

All I know is I'm Northern, I have no
carpet, and I have no ma.

Our vacuums do other things, you know.

Right. Maybe I could sample them
and set them off in Ibiza!

- Big fish, little fish, cardboard box.
- Big fish, little fish, cardboard box.

- Nine hundred vac.
- Vacuuming completely nude in paradise.

I haven't got time for this,
thank you very much.

Speaking up, pal, take no offense, I'm
not going to sell you owt, fuck off.

Pit stop. You coming?

See you, J. Edgar.
Hoover.

Did he mean it?

I mixed a bit. I was learning myself,
like, bedroom deejay.

- Who taught you? - The crowd.
- Right, oh yeah, right.

How did you start?

There was an old deejay selling a big
clunking 1970s disco twin deck. 50 quid.

I sold my bike for 60, bought it, and
with the tenner, I got three records.

They're all out for ages. I wore them
thin. I took the pads off my fingers.

Smooth as marbles.

Police can't arrest me now.
Unidentifiable, except,

By my music.

Then I did a gig. And one gig went to
another gig to another gig.

To gig, to gig, to gig, to gig.

I'll do whatever comes. Basements,
clubs, warehouses, bar mitzvahs!

It doesn't matter what I have to start with.

I can get from Amazing Grace to Abba
to ambient to arthouse.

Before they know what's happened. I mix
up a potion. I make them feel better.

I guarantee to get the most miserable
twat at the wedding up and trancing or,

Your money back!

- Do you make a living?
- I only want money to open my own club.

Your own club.
What's it going to be called?

The Ark.

Everybody's welcome. It'll never close.
You can stay in there 'til you feel safe.

To come out again.

Can I ask you something, De Kid?
Can I?

- Will you listen to my mix?
- No.

I can't hear a thing without the people.

Tell you what though.

I'll play it for you tonight.
At least you know it's been danced to.

I'll give you a secret.

Silence is loud.

BOOT!

Hit Stone Cheeks with these before
the witching hour.

And then I insist you accompany me to
Blackpool and the great giveaway show.

Workhouse, my old love,
we're riding to Blackpool.

To Mecca.
Metropole Hotel on the front.

Swung by to pick the girls up.

And the sad end,
I've no one else to bring.

Hot Pot came, too. See?
She's not been out for years.

She came for I told her
you were coming.

Anyway, I'm the goddamn winner
and I want some champagne.

Get on the dash there, go on.

There is none.

- Is there not?
- No.

- Is there some hotel miniatures?
- There are.

Near enough.

Come on, smack them open.
Let's celebrate.

What will you do if you lose?

I will win.

- Spaniard, want to hear my speech?
- Si, si, si.

Mr. Ron, and all the rest of you scum.

I'd like very much, very much
like to thank you.

For without your rejection
and wish for me to topple.

I would not have made it to the lounger
in the sun I will soon be occupying.

Or to this exalted height I hold as best
fucking salesman in the universe ever.

Bravo!

You thought I did it alone.
I did not.

You don't know how much you helped
me climb that ladder.

Your hatred was the rungs. Each stab in
the back made Tommy scurry up higher.

Each time Stone Cheeks had a lead, I took
off, scavenged, dug up ten of my own.

So ta, a mighty ta, to all you rats and
mice at the good old office.

Chance was also gold.
Did they announce that?

Little Alf's dad down the street when I
was a nipper. Alf's dad, the salesman.

He sold Flying Saucers.

Like soft, perfect, almost paper sweet,
they exploded in your mouth.

Oh, when the sherbet lay in the back
of your throat.

He came out with, tossed them,
tossed them, we caught them.

Pale pink and green and yellow,
flying through the sky.

And thanks must go to my dad for showing
me the mug's way so early, so clearly.

Coming home in filth, working all the
hours God can spare, for tuppence.

Beat, bad-tempered, broken.

And thanks to him, also, for making
me hate to hesitate.

Little me, upstairs in bed, while
he hit mum downstairs.

One more time. I'd say, one more scream,
and I'm going to get the poker.

But I didn't. I've never hesitated since.
Never crushed up my grit, since.

Should've broken his dirty, oil-stained
fingers off at the door.

And I thank him for his face, when I
came home after a few hours spieling.

They're wholesale, darling. I don't want
your ten pounds, don't want your five.

Put your notes away.
I don't know what's come over me.

8/6 for the lot. Now hurry up before
they cart me off to the loony bin.

And I'd throw a wad, ten of his wage
packets thick, on the kitchen table.

And my mum, he couldn't look at her.

He couldn't finish his food because
I'd beaten him - with success.

And so I'd go on beating him
for I do not lose.

And finally, thanks most of all to the
suckers I've mugged through the years.

Who have left dizzy and light of pocket
with something they never needed.

With a 'tis yours, 'tis yours,
'tis yours!

Oh, I am so proud.

Your growth and the company's growth,
fueled by honesty, HONESTY!

We have had a stupendous year so far. We
are riding high as one of the top regions.

Fucking hurry up, I want to get abroad.

And so, without further ado,
let's find out the winner.

I'm going to ask one of our brightest
female members of staff,

To be so kind and do us the honours
and read them out.

Please welcome Uki, the head of our new
Information Technology department.

The final nominees for the
Golden Vac awards are:

Tommy Rag,

Throat,

- And Randolph Dalline.
- Pockmark.

Pockmark.

And the winner is...

The winner is Ran..., sorry, Pockmark!

And in second place, it's a tie with
Throat and Tommy Rag.

Winner, winner!

Stone Cheeks!

What are you doing?!?

Pervert!

Where's Ron-Ron? Where is he?

- I'm not telling you.
- You fucking better!

Why? What would you do?

Punch you in the vagina!

What the hell, I owe him nothing. He
took Suzy Wong for a walk down the prom.

Talk about the future. Big changes. This
is going to be the last competition.

But no one knows it. You know, he
reckons with her help,

They can clear twice as much on the
cyberhighway as you on the tarmac one.

It's "Death of the Salesman".

Never mind all that shit. What happened?
What fucking happened?

- Your sales were one short.
- NEVER!

Yeah? One of the sales was nulled
and the vacuum was missing.

Workhouse!

What about Throat? How could I have a
tie with a dead man that couldn't talk?

I can tell you. What do I care now that
he's got his geisha.

As you got closer and closer to winning,
he got more desperate.

He started a scheme to get the others to
donate sales to the 'Throat Memorial'.

Not strictly allowed but he's the boss.

Honesty, heh?

Honesty.

Big fish, little fish, cardboard box!

Big fish, little fish, cardboard box!

Yes!

Listen, watch your music do the work.
Behold!

My music!

Come on, one time only.

I can sell you this. I can sell vacuums.
The vacuum salesman!

It's time. It's a one off
for every bargain.

All appliances thrown in.
Soles included.

My life's work. The bag is full of
Australian shoes.

Lodged in my flesh and blood.

WORKHOUSE!

Steward!

And Tommy, you're sacked.

Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter!

No one was listening in the beginning.
Now everyone's listening.

I know!

See, see!

I knew you were someone to watch.

Sea! Do you want a vac?

Hoover your bottom!

Take up all the jewels and wrecks
and rotting sailor boys!

I'll do you a massive deal, Sea.

I'll knock off twice as much
for you, Sea!

May I call you Briny? May I?

Come on, come on, you want one.

You know you want it. Come on, you must,
you must have one. Come!

Take it.

Hey!

You don't have to vac my heart up.

I can taste blood.

Tommy!

And Flying Saucers.

Tommy!

Tommy!

Tommy!

Tommy!

Tommy!

Tommy?

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