-Oh! Oh!
-Gimme it. -No need to swear.
Give that to me. You're such a menace with that thing!
Come on. Go on. Good girl.
Come on. Good girl.
-Ah!
-Oh my God! Oh my God! -Prat!
Maybe life is still worth living.
-Oh my God. -That's not funny, actually. It could've--
Wow. I disagree.
-Tony, could you clear this up? -No.
Hurt my elbow as well.
Fuck's sake, come on!
I'm stretching. I like to do things properly.
Like wear whites for tennis.
Just fucking give me the ball.
Yeah, Tony, please watch your language, okay?
Fifteen-love.
Ugh.
Oh, come on, Matthew!
Oh.
-One-love. -All right, change ends.
-No, fuck that. -What?
That's what you do after the first game.
To keep it fair. But the sun's in my eyes, you daft cunt. The advantage is to you.
Can you not keep saying words like that here, please?
-Fucking hell. -All right, just…
Oh.
No! No!
Ow! No, you don't.
Oh!
Grow up.
Oh!
-Oh.
Unlucky.
Good game.
-I mean, look at you. -What?
-It's a piss-take, mate. -What is?
-You look like Maradona.
Not in the '80's. In the--
Right before he died.
-After he died. -Don't get nasty.
Who won?
He did, but--
-Really? -Yeah.
Obviously I can never go back there again. The language was appalling.
Effing and jeffing all over. He'd have been disqualified from Wimbledon.
-Fucking Wimbledon. -See what I mean?
That's nothing. He shouted at a bloke with a baby in the cafe the other day,
everyone looking, calling him a cunt.
For very good reason.
-Why? -He was a cunt.
Ugh. Could never use that word.
Shows lack of vocabulary. If a bloke uses that word, I go right off him.
What if he's calling Hitler a cunt?
Straight to Hitler.
It doesn't bother you, does it?
No, it don't bother me, but I wouldn't use it around a lady if she didn't like it.
So I've either got to stop using it around you or get you to enjoy it.
I'll get you to use it brilliantly. It'll change your life. Trust me.
-You will never hear me use that word. -We'll see.
Talking of vocabulary, I've got a date with a teacher, so--
Good. What does he teach?
Dunno. Why?
Well, if it's science, I probably wouldn't go on about ghosts and horoscopes.
Why? That's science too.
No, it's not.
It's the opposite. Trust me.
There she is.
You all right? Here's one.
-Why did the chicken cross the road? -Dunno.
To get away from the smell of two gypsies fucking my wife.
8:00 in the morning that was, back of Safeway.
Disgusting.
Why do you always say stuff like that to me? They're not even proper jokes.
Hmm, comedy critic now, are we?
Also, it's racist.
Shut up! Why?
-"The smell of 2 gypsies fucking my wife?" -The smell was coming from her!
Use your noggin. She had a terrible feminine hygiene problem.
Do you want me to spell it out for you? I had to bloody live with it.
The two lads, good as gold. Clean as you like, Danny Richards and Sid Nash.
Lovely pair of boys. She was the one that stank.
I said, "You've got a proper odor going on in that big old cabbage of yours."
She didn't bloody care.
She'd say, "Oh, if God had wanted my snatch to smell nice,
he wouldn't put it next to me arsehole."
I know, you're thinking, "Oh, that's a good point, Brian." No, it isn't.
Her arsehole wasn't a problem. Go figure.
Hmm.
Wow. Morning, gang.
All right, Brian, um,
can you do me a favor?
Depends.
My postman is proper depressed at the moment.
He's feeling very low about his life.
And I thought if he spoke to someone with a genuinely awful existence,
it might make him feel better about his own situation.
-Not a problem. Leave it with me. -Cheers.
I'll have some tea. Tea time.
Right. Squash.
-What? -Squash.
Oh, uh, no need. I've proved my point, and you're right. I feel less aggressive.
-Oh, chicken? -No.
Well, sounds like you're chicken.
-No. -Is squash too much for you?
-No. -You played before?
Not this century, but that won't be a problem.
Oh, great. Won't be a problem. Great. Yeah, see you on court.
He's never gonna win at anything. I'm never gonna let that happen.
Whatever I have to do, I will make sure--
Look at him. He's so wired.
He can't stand it. He can't believe I've beaten him.
So you were childhood sweethearts and, uh, then you lost touch?
Yes. We met in 1957.
I was 16 and Bill was 17.
I was working at the factory. Bill was working as a groundsman.
And we went together for a year or so, and we split up.
-Do you remember why? -Don't remember what I had for breakfast!
He drank too much. Always drunk.
-I don't drink now. -I do.
-So anyway, we sort of lost touch.
We met other people, both got married, and that was that.
I think we bumped into each other a couple of times over the years.
So when we found out we'd both been widowed,
we had a cup of tea, and we hit it off again.
You never lose that spark.
We weren't gonna bother getting married,
but I'm Catholic, and I started feeling guilty about the sex.
Sex.
-Okay. Um, when is the wedding? -Uh--
-August 28th. -28th.
-I'm getting married in August. -Fool.
Well, congratulations. I hope you have many wonderful years together.
Hopefully, I go first this time.
Hopefully in time for me to find someone else!
Take a picture.
Smile.
Great.
Did I hug Lisa enough?
Are you joking? I never met a couple more devoted to each other.
No, I know she knew I loved her, but did I actually say it out loud?
Did I remind her all the time?
Yeah, you did. It was obvious to everyone around, let alone her.
You're a good mate.
I'm just being honest. It's what I want too.
Meeting June's the best thing that ever happened to me.
Believe it or not, I'm not as in demand as you might think.
-You're a fine catch. -Hug?
-No, get away from me, you sweaty mollusk. -You just said I was a fine catch.
Yeah, but I meant like in one of those deep sea fishing shows
where they pull summat up from the bottom.
They thought it was extinct.
They don't even know what it is. It's just a blob. It could be a fish or a slug.
Back to normal, then.
-Nothing will ever be back to normal. -Oh, shit. Why did I say that?
Normal used to be us getting drunk and you sleeping on the couch.
Let's have a drink tonight. Nothing big. I'll make it home.
Yeah, all right.
Hey, boy.
-All right? -You all right?
-Yeah. -How's it going?
-All right, yeah. -Yeah?
Nice day, innit?
-Heard you're feeling a bit down. -Yeah.
Yeah. Talk to me.
Well, everyone knows what Roxy does for a living.
-I'm just embarrassed. -Embarrassed?
I'm probably delivering to blokes that have actually shagged her.
At the very least.
-What do you mean? -I doubt it's just a straightforward shag.
Get my drift?
Think about it, boy. Imagine all the things she has to do.
Missionary, missionary, missionary, missionary, missionary. Boring.
"Turn round. Let me see that ass."
Bored of that.
"Swivel round. Get your mouth around my naughty lolly."
"Watch those gnashers! Keep it gums."
"Lovely. There you go. Take the money."
"Now, go back to your postman boyfriend."
Know what I mean?
Listen, at least she gets paid for it.
Huh? My wife used to give it away.
Sometimes behind my back. Sometimes she'd make me film it.
How's that make me feel? I'm filming it. Looking through-- How's that make me feel?
Worthless.
Like a slug feeding on bird shit,
in the rain, only to be trodden on
and left to die in agony.
What I'm trying to say is don't be a worthless slug like me.
Be a man.
See you soon.
-Hello. -Hello.
You're my son.
Yep.
How are you, Dad?
Uh, mustn't grumble.
And where have you been?
Australia.
Oh. Where's that?
You know, if you come out here and turn left,
it's about 10,000 miles.
Oh, right.
You're back now though, yeah?
-Yeah. -For good?
-Yep. -Hello.
-Hi.
I was just, you know…
Hanging.
You should bring me, um, chess set.
Give you a game. You were pretty good when you were young.
-Was I? -Yeah.
Where is it?
Sideboard, with the sherry.
-I'll bring it in tomorrow. -Thanks.
I'd better go actually. I was just--
Well, I can take a quick break and walk with you if you like?
Yeah, sure.
-Bye, Dad. -Bye.
What are you doing?
Friends hold hands.
-Do they? -Yeah.
-Some men even hold hands. -Gay men.
No, straight men hold hands too sometimes.
What straight men walk along the street holding hands?
In Spain, and they're not gay.
Well, some are.
-Not many. Very macho. Bullfighters. -Right.
Bullfighters aren't gay.
No. In their little berets and their sequinned tights,
dancing around having roses thrown at them.
-Definitely not gay.
Sadistic cunts.
But not gay. Where are we going?
-What are you doing? -Daffodil.
Yeah. Criminal damage.
Fuck. I was picking it for you, you miserable sod!
Right, come on, then.
So as some of you might know,
it is the 500-year anniversary of the Tambury Fair
and muggins here has been asked
to make sure the Tambury Players provide a bit of culture.
Now, I've roped in Coleen.
She's gonna be covering the behind-the-scenes organizing,
and also she's gonna be doing a big feature on us.
Ooh.
Typical of me to get us in the spotlight, isn't it?
So, come on, then. What are we gonna do? We need some ideas. Ooh.
-Any thoughts? Something historical. -Les Misérables.
Les Misérables did happen in the past. We can't really do that though, can we?
I'm not paying for that. Fuck that.
I got done with that for Evita.
Still paying that off.
No, we need something interactive, you know, where you can walk around.
A bit promenade.
People coming up to you. A viking coming up, you know, raping and pillaging.
Not actually.
A monk coming up to you, blessing you. Stuff from the past!
A pirate ship. I don't know. A pig! Just a pig running around.
Is that a good idea? I don't know.
Come on! It can't just be me. What other ideas have we got?
I can be an out-of-work Shakespearean actor.
Oh, don't start, James.
We're all just having fun, okay? We've all given up our own time to be here.
Yeah, but you don't have to deliver papers, do you?
Well, nor do you. You dump most of 'em.
Look, things aren't going well for me at the minute and--
They've never gone well for you, James.
What about me? I backed the wrong horse with you.
Now, look, I'm a bit worried about him
because without performing, he's got absolutely nothing going for him.
Yeah, this is performing. What more do you want?
But it's just amateur, isn't it? It's all amateur!
Amateur? Amateur? Don't you dare.
I'm a professional actor and director, I'll have you know.
-What you been in? -Taxi Driver, the musical, Wigan.
Any good?
Oh, well, you tell me.
Bang, bang!
Taxi!
He's good.
-People don't often click the waiter now. -Can I give you the wine list?
I think it's "May I give you the wine list?"
-Sorry. -Thank you.
Do you know about wine?
Um, not really. I like prosecco.
-Shall I order? -Yeah.
May we have a couple of glasses
of Chianti Classico 2017, I think, please?
-And then we'll take it from there. -Which one's that?
I can't be much more specific than the Chianti Classico 2017,
which is written down there in black and white.
-Right. -Be knowledgeable about your job.
If your heart's not in it, maybe you shouldn't be here.
I'm on minimum wage, mate.
Work harder at school, mate.
Off he goes, tail between his legs.
So you work in--
Elbows off the table. You work in the newspaper industry?
-Yeah. Yeah. -For a newspaper?
Huh.
-Yeah. -Um,
I only really read The Guardian.
And occasionally Private Eye, but even then I'm off on a tangent.
I have got what I like to call a creative brain.
I write poetry.
Do you like poetry?
-Yeah. -Yes.
-Do you? -Yeah.
'Cause a lot of people say they like poetry,
but what they actually mean is they like If by Rudyard Kipling,
and they think that is in some way high art.
Like people who say they play-- Elbows.
Like people who say they play chess
when what they actually mean is they know how the pieces are allowed to move.
Do you like chess?
-I don't-- don't play it. -You don't play it. There we are.
-But you know how the pieces move? -I know some of the pieces.
There we are.
-Some. -Pardon?
In chess, there's a horse. A little horse.
There's a knight.
-And a-- a prawn? -A pawn.
I play draughts.
Draughts is easier, isn't it?
Draughts is a very simple game.
There you go.
This is one of your five a day.
-Grapes. -Yeah, exactly.
-Cheers. -Cheers.
Ah.
-You all right? -Yeah, good. Are you all right?
Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you something.
-All right. -Feel free to say no. It's not a big deal.
But I was wondering if you'd be my best man at the wedding.
Oh, fuck.
Am I really the best man though?
-You're the only man, to be honest. -Right.
Okay.
I mean, I've gotta say yes, haven't I?
If I'm still alive.
-You're not still talking like that? -No, I mean,
I eat and drink too much. I might not make it till August.
Okay, as long as you die of natural causes, that's all right.
That's what I'm hoping for now.
Rather than be a best man at a wedding, I choose death.
I mean, I'm flattered. Fucking hell.
Have I gotta stay sober?
Maybe up until the speech.
Let's do the speech before the ceremony.
Right. Okay.
Knock it out. Let's do…
Um,
do you teach science?
Nope.
I work in the arts side of teaching. I teach English.
-Language and lit, together at last. -Oh, good.
-Um, I like horoscopes and that. -Pardon me?
I like horo--
-Horoscopes? -Yeah.
-Do you? -Do I like horoscopes?
-Yeah. -No. Of course not.
Claptrap, twaddle.
Wishful thinking
for the gullible and the desperate.
No offense.
Sit up.
Shoulders back. Elbows off the table, always.
-You looking forward to it? Married life? -Definitely.
Yeah. Yeah. Sure, I'm giving up playing the field,
but the, uh, pros outweigh the cons.
Good.
For example, I used to sit up all night watching telly, eating.
Now I still do that,
but I don't have to get up to get food anymore. She brings it to me.
-Brilliant. -Have to watch a bit of girly telly.
Like what?
The Crown, Fleabag, Great British Bake Off.
But if I see a cake I like
and I say, "Ooh, that looks good," I know I'll be eating it the next day.
So Great British Bake Off is like the Shopping Channel for you now?
-Yeah. -Amazing. What a life.
Two forward, one to the side.
Elbows.
Thank you.
-I'll get this. -Great.
Then you pay the tip.
-How much is it? -£38.
-Right. -So 15%.
Which is?
Well, what is 10% of 38?
£3.80.
£3.80, she's got it.
Then plus 50% would be?
I'll just leave a fiver.
That's not enough, is it?
-I'll leave a tenner. -Way too much.
-I'm a big tipper, all right? -All right.
Now then, what have we got here?
HSBC. Advanced UK debit.
Mustache!
Oh, Mustache?
-Uh, you seem happier recently. -Do I?
Yeah.
I'm just trying to get on with it, you know.
I certainly wanna get better, you know.
I wanna be a good person.
But sometimes,
I just can't be bothered.
It's too hard.
We talk a good talk, but when it comes to it,
we sort of run and hide from, you know, real sacrifice. Like,
would I give my kidney to a stranger?
No. Definitely not.
I wouldn't give it to you. But some people do.
How are they that good?
I mean, that's incredible,
and I wanna do something good, you know?
I wanna make a sacrifice. I wanna
make a difference,
but then I think,
"What's the point?"
So I give my kidney to someone,
but they're gonna die anyway one day, so
who cares?
When I see kids playing now, I don't think,
"Oh, look. They've got their whole lives ahead of 'em."
I think, "They'll all be dead one day, so all this is pointless."
-Will you let me edit the best man speech?
But I guess what I'm saying is I don't care about death anymore.
You know, I don't mean I wanna die.
I mean whatever.
I'm not angry anymore. I don't want to punish the world.
I've had my life, and now there's nothing more to add.
And it annoys me that people think I can have that again with someone else.
Like I can replace Lisa. I can't.
And I'm cool with that
because it makes my time with her even more beautiful, even more precious.
And everything I've got now is because of her.
She paid off the mortgage on the house. She took out life insurance.
I've got 150 grand, and I haven't--
I haven't collected it.
You've got 150 grand?
Yeah, I haven't cashed the check,
because I don't want it.
'Cause of
how I got it.
Tony, please tell me you'll cash it,
even if it's only to take it off a fucking insurance company.
Get that, will ya? I don't want to disturb the dog.
-What? -Go on.
Oh, all right.
-It's Kath. -Oh.
You all right?
-Yeah. -How was it?
I can't describe it.
What was he like?
An absolute cunt.
I'm so proud of you. Do you want a drink?
-Yes, please. -Get Kath a glass, will ya?
-What? -Come on! I can't.
I mean, the attitude.