Waiting for God (1990) s02e04 Episode Script

1
(Sighs) Look, please, Diana.
Are you going to make your move
or have I got time to bash out a quick novel?
— I'm thinking.
— Yes, I know.
I can hear the terrible crunching
of long—rusted gears
and the tired creaking of a machine in pain.
— Very poetic.
— (Sighs)
Oh, God.
If I should die, think only this of me,
I played Tom Ballard chess
while busting for a pee.
— Well, go, then.
— I don't want to go!
I'm just trying to stop my brain atrophying
while you make your next move!
Ah!
— No.
— Oh, God, strike him down!
Come on, God, right now!
Puff, frizzle, pile of dust!
— You don't believe in God.
— I'm getting desperate.
— What's the hurry?
— "At my back I always hear
"Time's winged chariot hurrying near."
Andrew Man/ell.
Was he related to Captain Man/el?
Will you just make your move
or I'll hide your teeth again!
I'm just about to.
Keep your knickers in the untwisted position.
(Chuckles)
— Checkmate.
— What?
Checkmate.
— You can't do that.
— I just did.
— You can't do that!
— I just did.
— That's draughts, we're playing chess.
— I changed the game.
You lost, Diana.
Why don't you accept the fact that you were
outmanoeuvred by a vastly—superior mind?
What is our overall score in games?
— Can't remember.
— Diana 408, Tom 2.
You are a really nasty loser.
Show me a nice loser
and I'll show you a wet, weedy wimp.
Oh, yes, yes, yes,
the weakest goes to the wall.
Stand back, here comes Diana in her chariot.
To be gracious in defeat
means that you are a person of nobility
and sensitivity.
It means that you are a loser.
You lost, Diana. You lose everything these days.
— What do you mean?
— Wellwhere are you car keys?
Oh What do you mean,
my car keys? I haven't got a car.
Lost that, too, have you?
You lose everything these days.
— I do not.
— What about your croquet mallet?
— It was stolen.
— And your last four walking sticks?
All stolen.
Yes, yes, yes, I'm sure. Hot walking
sticks are big business round here.
I expect they whip 'em off
down a back alley,
strip 'em down, change the serial
numbers and flog 'em in Italy.
— What point are you trying to make?
— The point I'm trying to make is
that you are getting absent—minded.
The feeble fingers of senility
are tugging at your gown.
Dear God! I am not getting absent—minded!
Well, yesterday we went to Ray Wood's funeral.
Who wore brightest yellow and asked
which side the bride's family was sitting?
Sometimes I just get a bit preoccupied.
My brain is still working at full speed and
my body takes a few days to catch up.
I won't invite you to my funeral. A cranky
canary hopping all over my coffin?
(Jane) Hello—eee!
(Both) Goodbye—eeee!
Morning!
Diana, here's your walking stick.
You left it in Betty Hardcastle's place.
Ho ho ho ho ho!
— And how are we today?
— I'm dead.
— Me, too.
— jolly good.
I see you've been playing, er, thingy.
I could never get the hang of that myself.
I always seem to get Mrs Purple doing it
in the drawing room with a candlestick.
Jane, what do you want?
I can't believe you just came here
to flaunt your appalling ignorance.
— just checking you're coming in to lunch today.
— Certainly am.
Don't intend starving to death.
Far prefer to be poisoned.
Harvey wants to talk to everyone. He has
a matter of great importance to discuss.
— What?
— I'm afraid it's a black day for Bayview.
Please be there.
What is our beloved Fuhrer up to this time?
Probably wants to cut the food rations,
double the guards, bring in more dogs.
It's definitely time to break out
and head for Switzerland!
— Not now, Tom.
— Dicky, johnny, Ginger, Nobby!
Get the escape committee together.
We're tunnelling out.
Not Colditz again.
All that bloody sand down his trousers.
— They want to know what it's all about.
— Don't you worry. I will shortly reveal all.
That should give 'em a good laugh.
Ah, Betty, why did you steal my stick?
— Diana, I never did such a thing.
— Well, it was found in your place.
You left it there when you came to tea.
— I did not.
— You did, too. I was there.
Basil, when I want your opinion,
I'll pull your chain.
— Don't you be mean to Betty.
— Thank you, Basil.
Basil's at it again.
Now Betty's got the hots for him.
Fast Eddie, the Raffia Mafia call him.
Randy old sod.
Now, if I could just have
your full attention for a moment.
— What's on the menu today?
— Wednesday, ferret droppings.
Excuse me, just a little bit of hush, please.
— (Buzz of conversation)
— Excuse me. Ahem.
— Jane.
— (Screeches) Quiet!
Sony Harvey would like to have a little word.
— Can't he manage a big word?
— Thank you, Diana.
This is a serious matter so if I could have
your full attention, with no interruptions.
Is it about the contraceptive machine
in the gents' lavvy?
No, it is not. There is no such machine, Basil.
Precisely.
And it's a disgrace.
It's a four—mile walk to the nearest chemist.
By the time you've been there and back,
you can't remember what you went for.
And the other party's probably dead,
anyway!
Quiet!
— Yes, let the idiot have his say.
— Yes, let the idiot
II mean Harvey speak.
Thank you, Jane. Now, I want
to talk aboutabout honesty.
— Honesty? You? Don't be ridiculous.
— I want to talk about stealing.
Oh, jolly good. Stealing?
— I went to Norway once.
— What's that got to do with anything?
Nothing. I'm just telling you,
I went to Norway once.
Thank you, Tom. I'm sorry to report that some
stealing has been going on here at Bayview.
Very cold in Norway.
Shut up about Norway.
What's been stolen, halfwit?
— Well, a string of pearls, for starters.
— You haven't the complexion for pearls.
Tn/ some flashy gold medallions.
They'd be very you.
They weren't my pearls,
they belonged to Betty Hardcastle here.
— They came from my great—grandmother.
— Oh?
Yes. And Betty's also reported stolen a brooch,
a diamond ring and 15 crucifixes.
15 crucifixes?
Dear God, what do they get up to in there?
As you can see, we're in the middle
of a crimewave here.
— So what should I do, eh?
— (All) Resign!
Yes, that's very funny.
Now, I'm gonna give the guilty parties till
the end of the week to put the things back
and no more will be said.
Failing that,
I'm afraid I'll have to call the police.
He is treating us like naughty children
again. I'm going to slit his throat.
Maybe I should get in touch
with my old chum Hercule Poirot
unless he's still on that train.
— Don't be stupid, he's Belgian.
— What's wrong with Belgians?
You name me one famous Belgian.
Wellermerm Well, that's true.
Then there's Inspector Morse
and that female detective — Jemima
— Puddleduck?
— That's the one.
I don't think this is going to be solved
by our ransacking popular literature.
I think we'll have to do this ourselves.
Oh, what a wonderful idea. A bit of sleuthing.
Pity we haven't got a body.
It's always better when you have a body.
Times of death, whiffs of cyanide, butlers.
— Tom.
— Yes?
Shut up. We haven't even got a crime.
We have. That jewel job at Betty's place.
No, don't be so daft.
She just lost them. It's all that sex.
— What's that?
— The woman is befuddled.
Old Hotrod Basil
has obviously thrown some switch
and Betty's gone rocketing off
into some hormonal hyperspace.
Yes, I expect you're right. The same thing
happened with me and Greta Garbo.
I unleashed such elemental forces within her,
she couldn't cope with life after me.
Became a recluse.
It's tough when you have the power.
God, even in the dark caves
of doddering senility,
the masculine ego
comes crawling out of the slime
for one last feeble hurrah.
— What's your plan, then?
— Well, we question Betty,
retrace her steps and find the loot before
that idiot Bains calls the local plod in
and we all end up with false confessions,
broken ribs, pulped kidneys,
shattered teeth, gouged eyeballs,
and long, lingering deaths in Broadmoor.
Oh, such a cheery soul.
— Where was the jewel box, Betty?
— There, on the shelf.
On the shelf.
— Well, it's not there now.
— Well, of course it's not.
— If it was there, we wouldn't be here.
— Are we here?
— Yes.
— Therefore it is not there.
— Right.
— I rest my case.
— I wish to be elsewhere.
— So we know the box has been stolen.
No. We know the box has gone missing.
The concept of theft
is mere speculation and surmise.
— So what did it do, evaporate?
— Ah, no, it may have been mislaid.
— Well, it wasn't.
— No, course it wasn't.
Basil, you hardly know which way is up
unless it's lying down.
— All you ever want is sex, sex, sex.
— That's not true.
— Basil also like tea and conversation.
— Slowing up, are you, Bas?
Well, I need the sugar.
I'm not 65 any more, you know.
Another 15 years, I'm packing it in.
Betty, what visitors have you had
apart from Mr Machismo here?
— Only Jane.
— Right, we'll check on her later.
— How about relatives?
— No.
My relatives never come anymore.
They don't understand about Basil and me.
They don't think it's nice.
I keep telling them it's very nice,
but they don't think that's nice either.
I got the same treatment from my lot when
Brigitte Bardot moved into the box room.
Thank you, Tom. Betty, any other visitors?
Only you and Harvey Bains.
Harvey Bains would hardly have threatened
himself with the police. He's not that stupid.
— Then again
— It's all right, Tom.
By the way, what's the time?
Oh.
Why don't you go and lie down, Basil?
Oh, have 20 minutes passed already?
Oh, righty—ho. See you in a jiff.
— What's going on?
— Well, don't let me keep you.
I don't believe this.
Betty, we are trying to find your jewels.
Yes, well, you know what they say.
Diamonds are forever,
but Basil's only for about five minutes.
And I don't want to miss it. Goodbye.
— This place is falling apart.
— What are we going to do now?
Round up the usual suspects.
— Why are you staring at me?
— You'd better come clean, young woman.
I'm always clean.
Tom, just leave this to me.
Now, Jane, we are investigating the crime ripple
that has disturbed the placid surface
of our boring backwater.
— You what?
— It was the crucifixes, wasn't it?
— Tom.
— Admit it.
You've always wanted to be a nun.
You thought by collecting 15 crucifixes,
you might get in for free.
You might not be a butler, but you dunnit.
(Chuckles) Pretty good, eh?
— Tom, Jane is not a suspect.
— Oh, thank goodness for that!
Have you noticed anything suspicious
about Betty's behaviour lately?
— How do you mean?
— We don't think the jewels were stolen.
We think she put them somewhere, then forgot.
She's not usually absent—minded.
She's not usually swinging from
the rafters with a geriatric pistolero.
— Do you mean Basil?
— Precisely.
Anyone who sees him as a priapic god
must have their marbles seriously adrift.
That could lead to all sorts
of strange behaviour.
She's been buying him a lot of presents
recently. Mostly humorous underwear.
— But also some silk shirts. Purple.
— They'd be expensive.
— Where does she get the cash?
— I don't know. She's not that wealthy.
Thought as much. She's pawned them.
— How can we prove that?
— Well, follow her.
You mean put a tail on her? Brilliant.
I'm a master of disguise!
Oh, dear God.
Dad?
Oh, Geoffrey. Marion.
I told you it was him.
— How did he get out?
— What are you doing, Dad?
Ahh
I see you've had a left—handed gardener
with a copper trowel
wearing high—heeled shoes
working at your place.
I'll ring for an ambulance.
— Dad?
— I'm following a suspect.
Must away before the opium wears off.
In the good old days, they'd just bung them
in an asylum. Huh, but not now. Oh, no.
Now they're pushed out into the community
and the high streets
are crawling with old loopies!
— Do take a pill, dear.
— Hello, Geoffrey.
Shouldn't you have your wife on a lead?
This isn't a pawnshop.
just keep watching.
— Good grief, did you see that?
— What?
(Whispers) She's lifting the stuff.
— She's a master criminal.
— She's a daffy old duck. Come on.
(Diana) Oh, my God, she's been spotted.
Quick. Get after her. If she goes out the shop
with that lot, she'll be nicked.
— Betty, give me that.
— Oh, hello, Tom
— Excuse me, sir.
— Oh, gawd.
— I can explain.
— Would you come to the office with me?
Righto. Why not?
Now where's he gone?
Somebody's just taken Dad away.
Bloody good idea.
— Holmes, is that, sir?
— That's right.
S Holmes. S as in Sherlock.
We do always prosecute, sir.
The police have been called.
— Will it be Mr Dixon?
— Why not make it easy on yourself?
Give me the details. Name?
Well, I don't know. I've never met you before.
— Your name, sir, not mine.
— What is yours?
It's Fraser. Ben Fraser.
Now, if I could have yours.
— Ben
— Are you all right?
Hello, old thing. Yes.
Meet my new young friend. Ben Fraser.
— And who are you, sir?
— Don't say a word, Tom.
You're allowed to remain silent
and you're allowed to make one phone call.
How can I make a phone call
and remain silent?
just clam up. Leave it to me.
— Now, what is the charge?
— I don't do the charging, madam.
I've called the police. They do the charging.
— So nothing's settled yet?
— Right.
You know you've got the wrong person.
Tom didn't mastermind this
this shrimp paste heist.
— He was framed.
— That's enough, Diana.
— I was not framed.
— But it was Betty.
Enough. I am the guilty party.
I take responsibility and am prepared
to accept the full penalty of the law
as meted out by the Revolutionary Tribunal.
Tom, this is not A Tale Of Two Cities.
This is not "a far, far better thing you do
now", this is a bloody daft thing you do.
I am a gentleman, Diana.
You are a pillock, Tom.
You can see he's daft as a brush. just
let him go and we'll be away from here.
— I'm sorry, it's out of my hands now.
— Why? Go on, tell me why.
— It's policy.
— Oh, policy.
— To persecute the elderly?
— To prosecute shoplifters.
What did you do before you worked here?
— I was a student at the poly.
— Very nice.
— Work and play hard, did you?
— Yes.
— Nobody tried to kill you?
— No.
You were lucky. When Tom was student
age, people tried to kill him every day.
He was in North Africa. Ever heard of it?
Dusty place full of men and tanks
blasting the crap out of each other.
Tom, stand up. Go on.
Now, you see that scar?
He got that from a nine millimetre bullet
whilst defending a set of ideals
that would enable you to go
to your damn poly and have a good life.
And how do you thank him?
By becoming some sort of automaton
that does everything by the book
because you are too stupid and heartless
to make a decision off your own bat.
— That's my appendix scar.
— Shut up.
If you let people steal other's property,
where will it end?
He didn't fight for people
to go around thieving.
— He's got a point, Diana.
— just leave this to me.
Ben, Ben
this is the first time Tom has ever done
anything wrong in his entire life.
He has never even crossed a street
against a red light.
Crime is not in his make—up.
He is the most harmless, boring person
in the whole world.
That's not what jean Harlow said.
I robbed Wells Fargo for jean Harlow.
And he has but a tenuous grasp on reality.
One shock to that delicate system
could send him stumbling back
into an appalling world of B—movies
from whence he might never return.
— He'll only get a fine.
— Yes, but he will have to go to court.
Oh, I'd enjoy that. Irrelevant,
immaterial, ridiculous, Your Honour.
I demand that be struck from the record.
The man is obviously a brutal killer!
— I rest my case.
— I'm sorry
There can't be one law for the young
and another for the old.
True. You'd hate that, Diana. Age discrimination,
be it in our favour or not.
We can't be patronised.
— How about a large bribe?
— Sony
— Hello.
— Oh, shut up, Betty, and scarper.
— I've come to confess.
— Oh, quiet, Betty, and skedaddle.
That's my bag. I did the stealing.
Tom here was only trying to stop me.
Nonsense.
I'm the only master criminal round here.
It's a fair cop, guv. I can do my porridge.
— What's he on about?
— He thinks he's in the Lavender Hill Mob.
Don't listen to him. It was me.
I'm always doing it.
I don't realise until I get home.
Sometimes I just can't get
my thoughts together.
Ben, do you want to persecute
this delicate human machine,
which is obviously on the blink?
Dear God, you'll be arresting us
for having colds next.
Sorry, Madam.
I'll have to let the police sort this one out.
— What are you doing with my father?
— Which one's your father?
Well, now
Out of the three of us, which one
do you think merits the title "father"?
Damned if I can work it out.
Sorry, I'm getting a bit confused.
Who are you, sir?
— I'm his son.
— And I'm his wife.
— Is this your wife, sir?
— God forbid. That's his wife.
Her hobbies are Valium, gin,
and strangling tadpoles.
— I want to know what's going on.
— Your father's been apprehended shoplifting.
Dad, is this true?
Afraid so, Geoffrey.
I only did it so I could pay for
your little sister's heart operation.
There's nothing wrong with her heart.
— I haven't got a little sister!
— Does this mean he'll go to jail?
— I doubt it, madam.
— Pity.
— Release him at once.
— I can't do that, sir.
— But he's an old man!
— We have already been through all that.
I refuse to be released on the grounds of age.
jack the Ripper will be in his 140s by now.
If they find him tomorrow, should he be
released because of his age? Certainly not.
I demand my right to plead my case.
I want the jury
And should the verdict of
the people go against me,
I shall face that last dawn,
I shall walk that final corridor,
I shall look the hangman in the eye
like a man!
(Hums La Marseillaise)
Oh, here's Harvey now.
He looks as if he's all right.
— Oh, what a pity.
— Oh, it's a black, black day for Bayview.
Very black.
Oh, I didn't mean, erblack
as in the colour black.
I meanblack as ingrey.
Not that you're grey. I mean, er
it's a grey, grey day for BlackviewBayview!
Oh, dear. Oh, Harvey, thank God you're back.
All I can say is,
it's a black day for Bayview.
— No, it isn't.
— I don't pay you to sit around, jenny.
— Come on, get me some coffee.
— Oh, yessum, boss! Sure thing, Mr Bains!
I gets the coffee,
I gets the limes and the coconuts!
Lord, I be working on them railroads!
Prats.
— What's the matter with her?
— Never mind. How did you get on?
When I got to the police station,
the place was in uproar.
Tom thought he was Mark Antony, the
daughter—in—law was trying to get him life.
Diana had the desk sergeant
in a headlock.
— Do you think they'll be all right?
— I think so. The police are a tough lot.
— No, I mean our people.
— They're even tougher.
— I'd like to machine—gun the lot of them.
— Oh, Harvey, that's not very caring.
I care for my job, Jane.
If the board hear I've let residents
get banged up in the slammer,
they might have the odd doubt
about my competence.
— I'll stand by you, Harvey.
— Not that close, Jane.
Sorry
— Of course, Betty'll have to go.
— Oh, Harvey, no!
One cannot stay here
if one has a criminal record.
Harvey, let he who has no sin
cast the first stone.
What are you gibbering on about?
Didn't you have a spot of legal trouble once?
If you are referring to my little
disagreement with the Inland Revenue
over a couple of tiny, tiny figures
Zeros, Harvey. Three of them.
What exactly are you getting at?
I'm sorry but I feel I have to be
your moral guide at the moment.
I'd hate the board to hear
of your little irregularities.
I see.
I see. Well, as it happens,
I had already decided on a course
of mercy and understanding towards Betty.
Oh, Harvey,
I knew you were a real Christian!
Oh, I am, Jane. I am.
The police are hopeless.
They don't know how to do it these days.
It was most disappointing.
No fingerprinting, mug shots, line—ups.
And they were so pleasant and polite.
— What's wrong with that?
— Well, there should've been some brutality.
I should've been thrown
into a urine—stinking cell
full of footpads and cut—throats.
All wanting to slit me gizzard
in switchblade duels!
Guess they just don't watch
the right movies.
— Well, I'll fix them tomorrow.
— What's that?
The Complete Works Of Perry Mason.
Oh, Tom, I wish you'd just get a barrister
to plead guilty on your behalf.
You wouldn't have to go to court,
just pay a small fine.
That's not like you. You like a good fight.
Yes, when I'm doing the fighting.
I know, if you conduct your own defence,
you'll end up getting 90 years.
— Then what will you do?
— The same as I always do.
Get hold of Dicky and johnny and tunnel out.
Aaah!
As I am not only the defendant, but also
my defending counsel, what should I wear?
How about wig, gown and ankle chains?
You're not taking this seriously.
All right. Get yourself a sign saying
"Have mercy, I'm a loony."
— Ithought I should wear my dark grey.
— That'll stun 'em.
— Think they'll notice the lack of buttons?
— Only if you attempt to do them up.
I'd better go and sew them back on.
— Uh—uh—uh, give it to me.
— I couldn't do that. That would be sexist.
If you recall, the last time you attempted
to sew buttons on your trousers,
we spent three hours at the hospital
and you were offered serious
counselling by the local rabbi.
I shall go and get my sewing box.
— You lost your sewing box.
— I borrowed Betty's.
You borrowed Betty's
You borrowed Betty's? Diana!
Silly old bat!
I can't believe they went ahead
with the prosecution.
We live in a stupid and ignorant society,
Jane.
No one is capable of moral decision
so they have to make laws that preclude
the necessity of thinking for themselves.
Without laws, there would be anarchy.
What's wrong with anarchy?
If you haven't tried it, don't knock it.
Oh, my God, here comes
our own little sexual anarchist.
— Morning, Basil. Revolting shirt.
— jun/ still out?
Yes, the judge retired to his chambers.
Tom's speech gave him a migraine.
— Oh. Where's Betty?
— She nicked his gavel.
Ah, here they come. (Chuckles)
— How are you, old stick?
— Pretty pissed off, actually.
— What did you get?
— I got off on the shoplifting charge.
Well done.
But they fined me £50 for contempt of court.
Oh, well done!
Bloody marvellous!