All language subtitles for Colins.Sandwich.2E03

Ripped By mstoll

It's Thursday.

What a waste of a week's leave.

Oh, come on, Watkins,
write something, anything, anything!

Once you get the momentum going,
it will start to flow. Right. Hm-hm!

Yes, that's more like it!

"It was a foggy November morning
as Ronald Elmsworthy stepped out

into the artichoke Lufthansa
bagpipes, yes indeedy,

wah-wah, pound sign,
question mark, qwerty qwerty."

Brilliant!

Visionary.

So... what have we achieved this week?

Monday? Don't know.

Tuesday? Forgotten.

Wednesday? Mm, breathed a bit.

Did a bit of blinking,
paid the ground rent.

Thursday - a-ha!

Pick up Jen after job interview
from Waterloo station, 5:30.

I need a social secretary.

Friday, Saturday, Sunday...

a wasteland.

- Yes?
- 'Ls that Colin? '

- Yep.
- 'Alan Hunter here.'

Alan Hunter! Alan bloody Hunter!!

'Yeah, it's about this afternoon's meeting -
it's going to be at my place, not at the office.'

Er, sorry, what meeting, Alan?

- 'Didn't Vicky tell you? '
- No.

'Vicky? Where is that dozy mare? '

Look, I'm doing a series
of television thriller films.

It's a co-production
with LTV in New York.

Now I'm getting some writers together
to thrash a few ideas around.

The usual hacks are going to be there,
but I could do with seeing some fresh faces.

It'd be great if you could come.

Yes, I thought you'd had all
the material you needed, you know.

'No, it was all bollocks. I'll have
to start all over again. The address...

It's Apartment G, Heath Park Gardens,

Hampstead Heath, NW3.'

- Yeah?
- Erm, it's Colin.

- Who?
- Colin Watkins.

Oh, yeah.

Anyone got the time out there?

Er, yeah, it's, er, three o'clock.

Is it? Oh!

Look, there's some beers on the table.
Help yourself, eh?

Right.

Phil, you bastard!

Al, what's all this crap about Venice?

Ooh, you just toddle along, pick up your
award and then you get pissed, don't you?

How long are you keeping us, Al?
Some of us have got tarts to get back to.

We'll wrap by five, that's the latest,
I promise.

...So basically that's it -
a series of four 90 minute thrillers

to be shown in prime time here initially
and then to be networked in the States.

Now I want to be able to go back to LTV
in New York in two weeks' time

with four outstandingly good ideas.

Are we on 16 or 35, Al?

35 what?

Well, budget dictates really.

But whatever happens, we've got to have the
recce out the way by the end of next month.

What's a "recce"?

I don't want anybody doing
a Tony Wilson on us right?

Who's Tony Wilson? What's "weather cover"?
What's "undercranking"?

Who's Irving Staubsauger?
What's a "release script"? Help!

So, everybody clear?

Colin?

Yup, fine! No problem.

You lying toe-rag! You haven't
understood a bloody word. I shall recap...

Now there are four slots up for grabs.

You can give it to me in any way
you want to at first - story, synopsis,

tattooed on your girlfriend's bum,
for all I care.

Just as long as you sell it to me.

What we're looking at is thrillers
with a supernatural element.

The occult, witchcraft,

voodoo, stuff like that.

What I definitely do not want is
any more computer hacking stuff,

and no romantic interest either,
especially adultery.

If anybody else brings me along
another Fatal Attraction clone,

I shall personally roll it up and shove it
straight down me waste disposal unit.

It was a film, Colin, with
Glenn Close and Michael Douglas -

came out a couple of years ago.

It does matter, for God's sake. I was supposed
to pick you up from your interview and I didn't.

- You forgot, that's all. It happens.
- How long were you waiting?

- Oh, not long.
- How long?

- An hour and a half.
- What?

- That's about average for the 172.
- Couldn't you take a taxi?

Oh, why didn't I pop over to Florence
for a cappuccino?

Look, I haven't got an income at the moment.

Anyway, the important thing is
I've got a second interview.

- When is it?
- Friday the 14th, 12:30.

I'm going to book the time off
and drive you down there myself.

- Don't worry. I'll be fine.
- I'm taking you down there, that's an end of it!

So what about this company then?

I've told you, they make software.

Yes. Where is this...
sorry, Winkfield?

- Near Bracknell.
- Where?

Berkshire.

Berkshire?

- Yeah, I'm getting my jabs on Tuesday.
- How will you get there?

They'll throw in a company car -
that's if I get it.

So you're going to write a thriller
for Alan Hunter? It's unbelievable.

There are only four slots, you know -
a hell of a lot of competition.

I mean, guys with track records,
experience. I'm really going to...

I asked you if you wanted chips
when we were in the shop!

This is the last one, I promise.

Do you realise today
I was in the same room

as Tony Garston, Pete Daniels -
you know, The Haunting.

I have been in the same house that
Sigourney Weaver spent a month in last year.

I've used the same toilet.

My buttocks have touched
the same plastic as hers did.

- Could this be my big break, do you think?
- Probably.

- Ah, here he is!
- Talk of the devil.

Have your ears been
burning then, Colin?

- Now, Colin...
- Yeah, quite nice, thank you.

Just pottered around
at home for a bit, you know.

- We're looking for the Jackson file.
- It's under "J". Is that confusing for you?

- Have you tried "pending"?
- Which "pending"?

Look, you know the system.
This pile is for "urgent"...

This is "can wait till I get back"
and this is for "no action needed".

Which is... exactly where you'll find it.

Look, Colin, just quickly tell me, what dealings
have you had recently with this Mr Jackson?

He's the bloke who keeps pestering us
about overcrowding on the Birmingham line.

He doesn't just write to us.

Look, there we are - some Polaroids
of him having to stand in the guard's van.

That's the lunch he had crushed
when people got on at Watford Junction.

- And the minicab receipts.
- Minicab receipts?

He says the trains are too crowded at
Euston so he takes a cab to Northampton

and gets on the train there.

What's his file doing in
the "no action needed" pile?

Look, sir, I know these people - they're
just lonely, they want somebody to talk to.

Oh, yeah? Well, he's just hijacked
the 10:17 from Birmingham New Street.

- Well, what do you expect me...
- All right, all right! All right!!!

Look, I know it's not easy at the moment.

We've got a 100% increase
in passenger traffic,

but no new rolling stock until next year.

Our job is to take the heat
out of the situation.

- Now I'm told we've got a hijack on our hands!
- It's not a hijack. It's a sit-in.

"He loathed Trevor Blacklock.

He... He detested Mandy Fairfax!

He abhorred Graham Wilkes.

He execrated...

Andrew Travers.

In fact, the entire company he... he... er..."

"Felt hostile to"?
"Had no stomach for"?

"Was reluctant towards"?
"Shied away from"?

In fact...

"In fact, the entire company
really got up his hooter.

It was this hatred that spurred

Colin Watkins 4,000 miles to Haiti,

to where he stood now...

foaming at the mouth, waiting
for the rites of initiation to begin.

As the drum-beat quickened,

he was only vaguely conscious of
the flames licking at his naked body...

...of the tidal wave of sweat
roaring down his buttocks...

of the goat's blood being
ladled over his head...

...of the irritating bit of salami gristle
stuck between his teeth.

He'd kill for some dental floss."

You can't put that down, Watkins.

This is unbelievable. Just pure
genius just racing down the page.

Straight over the Brent Cross flyover -
no traffic jams in sight.

If I go at this rate, I'll finish today.

Ignore it, Watkins!

Yes! "There his fate was sealed.

There in the blistering,
fetid heat of the jungle.

There he... he...

There he... he..."
Who the hell is it?!

- Are you taking, Joshua, darling, or not?
- Yes, all right, all right...

Oh, my God, Stuart and Rosemary!

And ask Colin for a cloth and some disinfectant.
We don't want his staircase smelling of sick.

"Bopple". That's bottle.

Oh, and "beepot".

That's teapot.

"Poon".

Erm, spoon?

No, orange juice.

Oh, yes, of course,
there's "bigma".

Oh, yes, "bigma".

Well, you know what
that is, don't you, Colin?

It's you!

- You're the "big man" who came to see us.
- He's been saying it all the way here.

He is incredible. You should have
heard him in the kitchen earlier.

He was going great guns.
He said "mug".

- Oh, yes! He knows that one.
And "cup" and "fridge".

"Fridge"?

'Floor", "hanging basket",
"asparagus steamer",

"biodegradable washing-up liquid" -
he was going berserk.

So how long are you both down for?

Well, if it's all right with Colin, we
thought we might stay till next Sunday.

No, that's would be fine. That's fine.

Just a week. To be quite honest,
we don't really like London.

Which reminds me, Colin, what is happening
with all the rubbish in London?

The place is so filthy nowadays.

Yes, I'm sorry, Stuart - I've been very busy,
what with the job and the writing.

I tell you what, I'll pop out tomorrow morning
and vacuum-clean the Edgware Road.

No, I don't mean you personally.

I just feel everyone should be responsible
for their own patch. Take your road.

I've never seen so many Kentucky
Fried Chicken boxes in all my life.

- Yes, nice, aren't they?
- Pardon?

They give a certain
"je ne sais quoi", don't you think?

Who wants apple blossom and
window boxes full of geraniums, eh?

No, give me the maggot-infested
pile of spare ribs by the skip any day.

Ugh!

Incidentally, keep Thursday evening free -

we'll be seeing Stuart's uncle during
the day and he always gives us turkey.

Trouble is, we always need
someone to help us eat it!

- Look, I really ought to be going.
- Got an early start in the morning, Jenny?

No, Stuart. I was made redundant.

Really, Jenny? How awful!
When did that happen?

Oh, it's all right.
They've given me a good pay-off.

You know, Patricia said they were making
redundancies in her company next month.

Won't affect her though.

I'll make some more tea before I go.

Jen, Jen! Jen, you're not going?

I'm making the tea and I'm taking
the midnight express out of here.

- The whole thing is intolerable.
- You can't leave me alone with them!

Did we tell you?
Bernadette's due in May.

- Please don't go!
- Why did you invite them?

Oh, I don't know.
It sort of happened.

- Well, I'm sort of going.
- Please!

Look, two hours ago I was
sitting in my garden,

sipping a Dubonnet and going
through my rejection letters.

I was so happy! Please let me go.

- What am I going to talk about?
- Talk about your writing.

- Talk about Alan Hunter.
- Alan Hunter? To them?

It wouldn't mean a thing.
It's a different world, a different galaxy.

- I said, Bernadette's due in May.
- Yes, so you said!

We saw Patricia and Gordon yesterday.

He's still doing his sailing.

Is he?

There!

One synopsis for a 90 minute thriller -

complete with occult setting and no hint
of computer hacking or romantic interest.

No thanks to Stuart, Rosemary and Joshua

"let's ram a Jaffa Cake
in Colin's typewriter" Fletcher.

"Alan Hunter, Apartment G,
Heath Park Gardens, NW3."

- Yeah?
- 'Vicky, I said the top drawer! '

- Sorry? Who is this?
- 'Yeah, talk to me? '

- Oh... is that Alan?
- 'Yeah. Colin? '

- Yes.
- 'Hello! What's up mate? '

Erm, well, you rang me, I think.

'Did I? Oh, yeah - sorry!
I'm all arse over tit today.

Listen, it's been getting a bit heavy recently -
all these briefs and meetings and that,

so we're going to chill out
down at the Zanzibar Club tonight.

Don't know if you fancy coming? '

- Oh, Alan...
- 'Vicky, are you winding me up or something? '

No, I'd love to. I'd love to. I've got
these friends staying at the moment.

- They're cooking dinner for me tonight.
- 'Don't worry if you can't make it.

I don't need this, Vicky.
I just don't need it! '

The Zanzibar Club.
He asked me down the Zanzibar club.

And, of course, I can't bloody go! Terrific!

Look, it's quite simple - you hand over
your shopping receipt and then drive out.

Anyone who can't produce a
shopping receipt is fined on the spot.

Darling, stop getting so worked up!

Well, Sainsbury's car parks are for
Sainsbury's customers. There's a big sign up.

They're not for any Tom,
Dick or Harry!

Donald got clamped in one the other day.

- Darling, that reminds me.
- What?

- We haven't told Colin yet.
- What about?

- About Donald and Catherine.
- Oh, yes!!

- Are you going to tell him or shall I?
- Go on, darling.

- No, you tell him!
- No, no, you!

All right.

Donald and Catherine
are moving to Welwyn.

That's only if the job with IBM
goes through, of course.

Catherine's not keen. They've moved
twice in the past three years!

Yes, but she's got a brother in Potters Bar.

- Colin!
- Colin!

If anyone wants me,
I'll be in the Zanzibar Club.

Well... that was a productive evening,
Watkins?

Three and a half hours stuck between two
girls who kept blowing smoke in your face

and calling you Keith.

85 quid for seven gin and tonics.

And Alan Hunter doesn't
even bloody show up.

Oh! Rosemary.

Just fetching a spare bottle.

Look, I'm sorry.
I want to apologise about this evening.

Erm, I don't know what came over me.

I must've been feeling cooped up
or something. It just got to me.

Colin, why didn't you say it was
inconvenient for us to stay?

It's not inconvenient. You're welcome here,
all three of you, you know that.

Jenny says you're writing something
for Alan Hunter at the moment.

That's right, yeah, yeah. Alan Hunter, he's
a film producer. I'm doing a couple of things.

He's one of Stuart's client's.

He's just bought an old watermill near us.

Stuart did the conveyancing for him.
Seems terribly nice.

Morning.

Morning.

"He thrust the pin into the doll and 4,000 miles
away a lump appeared on the man's neck,

then on his whole face, till his whole body
erupted in a welter of black buboes.

Suddenly, he exploded

and there, on the floor in the
lounge bar of the Horse and Feathers,

was all that remained of Trevor Blacklock -
a noxious, steaming pool of pus."

Look, Trevor...

"Colin Watkins squealed with delight
as he plunged the pin into the second doll.

4,000 miles away, in a poky bathroom
in Tooting, an anaconda wrapped its coils

round the fat neck of Mandy Fairfax
as she sat on the bidet."

It's just the basis for a story. It's nothing to
do with the way I personally feel about you!

"Slowly it squeezed the last breath of life
from this gossip-mongering little bitch

with the IQ of a dead donkey."

Oi, Col, I've got a bone to pick with you.
That story of yours!

- You're not in it, Graham.
- Why not? Everyone else gets a look-in!

You've never liked me have you!

Gentlemen! Gentlemen!

And lady...

I'm sure you've all seen this week's press.

There is to be a departmental inquiry
into the Jackson case

and into our handling of customer
complaints in general.

It will be held in the boardroom
on Monday at 10:30.

The Junior Transport Minister
will be there and, needless to say,

I expect everyone to attend.

Oh, by the way, Colin...

how did you know
I was scared of spiders?

Look, Trevor...

- Yeah?
- 'What time are you picking me up? '

Oh, Jen!

'Lf we leave about 11:00, that
should be enough time, shouldn't it? '

- Sorry, love, what are you on about?
- 'My interview.'

Well, that's not till Friday. Oh, no!

- Oh, no, I've forgotten to book the time off!
- 'Oh, can't you do it now? '

I can't, love, I can't! There's no way
Travers is going to let me go.

Not now I've had him mauled on the back seat
of his Granada by 500 tarantulas.

- 'What are you talking about? '
- Look, get a cab all the way. It's on me.

'No, no, it's all right.
I suppose I can still get the train.'

- I'll pay for it.
- 'Yes, you will! '

Oh, well done, Watkins,
you're going great guns.

Ah, hell! I'm taking her.
I'll get the time off.

I can't.

Coffee?

- Yeah?
- 'Half ten, my place.'

- What?!
- 'Ls that you, Colin? '

- Sorry, is this Alan?
- 'Yeah.

Look, we're going through the scripts
this morning. So get round here, all right? '

- This morning?
- 'Yeah, half ten.

I want to make a decision today, so we
need to get moving, OK? I'll see you then.'

I... I... I ca...

Ooh! Ha!

Oooh!

What's the matter, Colin?

Your what?

- What did he say?
- I don't know!

God! Help me!

I'll call an ambulance.

No, I'm all right.

- What's the matter, Colin?
- I just get these attacks sometimes.

Do you know? That sounds like
appendicitis to me.

- Yeah!
- I think we should call a doctor, Colin.

I think we should leave it to rupture.

I just need to go home and lie down.

You know, if somebody could call me a taxi.

You're a taxi. Col.

Oh, hang on! I'm on time. I don't want
to be the first to turn up again.

I'll look a complete prat.

Erm, we couldn't drive round
the block for a bit, could we?

You're over an hour late, Colin.
We've finished.

When I say half ten,
I mean half ten.

- I'm terribly sorry, Alan, I, er...
- Anyway, we got it all sorted out.

- Did you?
- Yeah. Bloody typical, isn't it, eh?

"Write me something on the occult," I said.

"Don't write me anything on
computer hacking," I said.

"No romantic interest," eh? And what happens?
Nobody takes a blind bit of notice.

- I did.
- Totally ignored me...

Which is just as well, cos Pete and Tony came
up with two of the best ideas I've had in ages.

'Ere, aim these in the bin, will you?

Erm, what about my script, Alan? Did you?

Remind me, Col.

It was along the lines you suggested...
you know, the occult.

It's typical, isn't it? There was an
armada of cabs around here an hour ago.

- Oh, the voodoo thing?
- Yeah, yeah.

No, I've been there, done that. It's a bit
old hat as far as I'm concerned, I'm afraid.

Did have some nice touches though.

Hello? Yeah. Cab, please. It's on
the Hunter account for Heathrow.

At about...

Oh, shit, I've missed me plane!

Forget it!

I was over an hour late.
They cancelled two trains.

Great way to start an interview -
cadging 20 quid off your prospective boss

to pay for a minicab.

Jesus!

You got it! You got it!

You are brilliant!

Brilliant!

I want to book a table at Casa Bianca tonight.
We'll invite Stuart and Rosemary as well.

They've left.

They said they were
going to stay till Sunday.

Well, they've left a note
and a case of wine.

It's over, Jen.

- I'm giving up writing.
- What?

I was standing on the platform
at St John's Wood Station today.

There was a poster for one of Hunter's
old films up there - Dark Window.

"Nominated for three Oscars" - it says.

"'Brilliant" - Newsweek.

"His best film in ages" - Time.

Old tramp comes up
and urinates all over it.

It's funny, isn't it?

You tear around like a blue-arsed fly,
you demolish your friends,

trample all over your workmates,
you think it's all so goddamn important.

Come on.

That's it. I'm shutting up shop.

Colin Watkins has typed his last full...

stop!

It doesn't do the washing up.
It's an old model.

Jen, how much did?

It's a present!

- I don't know what to say.
- Seeing as you're giving up writing...

I'm not giving up writing!
It's Alan Hunter I'm giving up.

His whole brash, bogus, little world.
I don't have to be part of that rat race, do I?

From now on,
Watkins returns to his roots.

Yeah, get that novel off the ground,
be my own master again,

get a bit of self-dignity back.

In Search Of Times Past,

by Colin Qatkins.

Where is the Tipex on this thing?

"I tender my sincere apologies
for my grossly irresponsible action

in hijacking last week's 10:17
from Birmingham New Street.

The behaviour of your colleagues
in the face of my preposterous complaints

convinces me that your department
is staffed by the most courteous,

sensitive and staggeringly
patient human beings

this side of Utopia.
Yours sincerely, Leonard C Jackson."

I'm not sure about this, you know, Colin.
Besides, I think he loops his "J's".

His secretary said he gone to Kuwait
for five months.

- It's worth a try.
- Right, we all set for the meeting then?

Yes, I've laid out all the tables and chairs
out in the boardroom.

I've made sure the Transport Secretary's
got a copy of all the complaints,

the analysis sheets and, of course,
Mr Jackson's letter.

Good. Excellent. Right,
see you all up there in five minutes.

Hello?

'Colin, I've just had another
look at your idea.'

Oh, hello, Alan.

'Lt was all that voodoo stuff
that got in the way -

but I love the idea about a bloke
who can't stick his job

and starts wiping out
everybody in his company.

Listen, come over now - I want to get
it into the New York pouch by lunchtime.'

- Yes, I can't, I'm afraid. I'm at work.
- Come on! Upstairs! Colin, they've arrived.

Be with you right away, Mr Travers!

To be quite honest, Alan,
I've gone rather cold on the idea.

In fact, I'd rather forget the whole
thing, if you don't mind.

- 'Lt's the money, is it? '
- Sorry. Pardon?

'You see the trouble is, Colin, you've
not really done anything before,

which means I can't really top ten grand.'

�10,000?

'That's 2,000 for doing the treatment,
three for the development

and five for the final draft -
LTV are tight buggers, I'm afraid.

Get your backside over here
and we'll thrash it out, all right? '

What?

- You coming then, Col?
- Erm...

Er, yes!

Yes!

Yes, I am.

I'm said I'm fine!
I feel much better now, honestly.

Taxi! Taxi!

Ripped By mstoll