Birds of a Feather (1989) s10e02 Episode Script
Slave
1 What'll I do When you Are far away And I am blue? What'll I do? When I'm alone With only dreams of you That won't come true What'll I do? Yeah? No, it ain't Tracey, it's her sister.
Yep, fire away.
You what? You dirty toerag.
Yeah, I will tell her.
And then I'll tell the old bill.
You were sitting there three hours ago.
And you'd better not call back, you slimeball.
Who was that? Some sleazebag going on about how much he'll pay you if you service his massive pump.
Nerve of the perv.
Eugh.
That's Mr Bolland, my best customer.
Bolland? I thought he said Bell- Sharon.
I told you I'm doing telesales.
Yeah, I know.
But I didn't know it was phone sex.
Why don't you ever listen? It's a plumbing supplies company.
One of us has got to earn a living.
I've got a job.
I thought you weren't going back to World of Quid.
I mean waiting on Dorien hand and foot.
For no money.
What do you mean no money? She's bunging us 500 a week.
No, she's bunging you 500 a week.
I'm just her unpaid slave.
In fact, you are infringing my human rights.
I could take you to a tribunial.
Well, before you do that you can take yourself down the shop.
I forgot Dorien's Ivory Soap Flakes.
What about my coffee? You ain't got time for that.
I'll go on strike.
No-one'd notice.
Er, may I look at this one, please? Oh.
It's £1,500.
We do have a few more affordable items at the back of the shop.
Allow me to explain.
I am an internationally-acclaimed bestselling author.
You work in a shop.
I have accounts on 5th Avenue, Bond Street and the Avenue Montaigne.
You've obviously been dressed by George of Asda.
While I would warn you appearances can be deceptive, you are exactly the snot-nosed Essex princess I suspected you were when I came in.
Door.
Hmph.
Oi! What were you doing in Chigwell's ponciest bag shop? They charge you a hundred quid just to look down their noses at you.
I'll go in there now and again, just to frighten the life out of them But you, lady, are on a strict budget.
Until your copyright contract thingy's been sorted out.
I am painfully aware of that, Sharon.
How the flighty have fallen.
Nothing wrong with a bit of Primarni though.
What'd you get? Do you mind? Taxi! Oi! You can't waste dosh on a cab.
We'll get a bus.
I have not been on a bus since I left the Barbra Streisand High School for go-getting Jewish girls.
Well, it's time you got reacquainted then.
We'll go to the newsagent, get you an Oyster.
Newsagents sell seafood now? You have no idea, have you? Tracey, I need to speak to you now.
What's so bleedin' urgent? One of my breakfast eggs was too runny and the other was hard.
How does she do that? It weren't easy.
I'll mention it to my staff.
Sharon, sort it.
Now, leave me alone.
I've got work to do.
That lingerie is pure Italian silk.
You are washing it with Ivory Soap Flakes, as I asked.
Of course.
Cillit Bang? It was the closest I could get.
I should never have trusted my delicates to Chigwell's answer to Edward Scissorhands.
Right, rinse them out, hang them up, attend to my ironing and then come and clean my en suite.
You're having a laugh, in't you? Listen, lady - When I agreed to pay Tracey a handsome rent to stay here instead of a hotel she promised me civility and service.
Does what you're about to say fit in with that? Thought not.
And that includes hand gestures.
Anyone seen my order book? I'm going to swing for her, Trace.
She's only got me handwashing her pants.
At least she's wearing 'em now.
She's taking liberties.
She's got me fetching, ironing, cleaning - Tough.
She's paying our rent.
End of.
Let me get on with my telesales.
I'm warning you.
If she calls me from the toilet and asks me to wipe her Sharon.
.
.
you'll be the one pulling her face out of the U-bend.
Go on.
Go on! No! Aww! Hooray! You all right, Mum? Yeah, fine.
It's a lovely day.
Why don't you take Poppy to Legoland or something? Nanny Tracey would take you but she's too busy working.
Thing is, Mum, we're broke.
Maybe you should think about getting a job.
I'm getting my massage business up and running.
I've registered with a catering agency.
Once word gets round I'll be swamped.
I've got an idea.
Why don't I cook us all my speciality for lunch? Oh, yum! Have you got any smoked pig cheeks? Oh, no, what a shame.
Sharon just used the last of it in a fry-up.
I'll make beans on toast after I've finished these calls.
Thanks, Mum.
Er, Trace.
Are these supposed to be crotchless? Or have I been rubbing too hard? Ow.
Ow! Oww! Where did you learn to massage, Guantanamo Bay? Don't expect a repeat booking.
Shame.
I do a discount for OAPs.
That bathroom is spotless.
You can see your face in that bidet.
Or anything else you might want to look at.
And why have you got four different types of make-up remover? I just rub my face in the pillow.
This house is like Piccadilly Circus in the rush hour.
Tell me about it.
And would somebody please have a word with Poppy? There was a pair of skates outside my door.
If I had tripped on them I could have broken my neck.
It weren't Poppy who left them there.
Thing is, Dor, I'm not really earning and the bills are stacking up.
Spare me the domestic drama.
Would you like an advance on your rent? Please.
If you could get them to transfer it now.
No offence, I love having you all here.
It's just - I get it, Tracey.
It's fine.
Yes, hello.
Dorien Green.
Date of birth? 1876.
Is she paying you for her massage? Damn straight she is.
Bet she tries to rook me though.
She moaned all the way through it.
Said it was like being manhandled by the Turkish wrestling squad.
And she'd know.
It wasn't no walk in the park for me.
She's all skin and gristle.
It's like putting your hands on a half-starved chicken.
But that can't be right.
Let me speak to someone in authority immediately.
There must be more than that in there.
What about my other account? FoxyCohen1, brackets, Handbags and Frocks, close brackets.
Oh, I see.
Did they transfer the money OK? Not yet.
Computer glitch.
So why has all the colour drained from your face? Maybe one of her facelifts is leaking.
They're just saying that there isn't as much in there as I thought.
But it's wrong.
You're skint, ain't you? No, I'm not.
It's a mistake.
Let's all go out for lunch.
My treat.
She's in denial.
Shall I slap her? That's if someone's hysterical.
You say tomato No! You said you'd pay me £500 a week.
I thought I could.
It turns out my solicitor's keeping it all as a retainer.
That's left me right up the creek.
How am I supposed to pay the bills? Let me slap her, Trace.
No.
What is going to become of me? Oh, my God.
I'll have to go on benefits.
Huh.
You'll be out of luck, love.
The golden years have gone.
You've got to have half a lung and 14 dependents before you can even get a milk token now.
We kept telling you not to spend but you carried on buying new clothes.
Well, it's only Primark.
I don't know what you bought in there but it weren't this.
Stella bleedin' McCartney.
Oh, my God, how many clothes have you got? Unbelievable.
Designer.
Designer.
Designer.
Slapper.
How many black skirts do you need? You ain't going to be kitting out the army wives choir.
It's a compulsion.
Nice things validate me.
I'll validate you in a minute.
If you can't afford it then you're not staying here.
No, please, Tracey, don't throw me out.
Sharon, get the bin bags.
Oh, cheer up, Dor.
You've got a face like Wayne Rooney chewing a thistle.
There must be another way.
We can't sell all my beautiful clothes.
Have you found a couple of grand in your knickers? Of course I haven't.
Then they're going.
Where exactly are we headed? Chelsea? Camden Market? Haven't you told her? Told me what? Here we go.
No! Here, look at that.
What's happening? Dealers.
They're trying to get their hands on your goods.
Been a long time since anyone said that.
Get away.
Get away.
Get away.
Get away.
Arghhh! Grab 'em while you can, girls.
This is a one-off liquidation sale.
Due to a very old concern facing financial ruin.
That's a Donna Karan exclusive.
Have you washed your hands? Excuse me? He's an ex-drag queen.
He's flogging all his gear and finding it hard to let go.
How much is this? £250.
40 quid.
And I'll throw in a scarf.
That's from Liberty's.
I suppose I could put that on my dog.
You have no idea how appropriate that is.
Thanks, lovely, cheers.
These people are philistines.
They wouldn't know class if it crawled in their ear and shouted Chanel.
Would these suit me? No, you'd look like a pig in ballet pumps.
Put them down.
Stop putting the punters off or I'll lock you in the car.
They're not having my Stella McCartney.
If you don't want to end up in Boots doorway wrapped in cardboard, sit down and shut your gob.
Mum, it's that sort off TOWIE.
She's not a 'sort', she's a girl.
Here, Shal, it's that sort off TOWIE.
Oh, yeah! Excuse me, you're er you're you, in't you? Yeah, but keep it quiet.
I'm trying to keep a low profile.
Yeah, yeah, course.
But you're blending right in.
I really love these D&G knock-offs.
How dare you? They are genuine and original.
Yeah, course they are, babe! Oh, my God.
I love those shoes.
What, these? No.
These? No.
Those.
No! These are my favourite Manolo Blahnik's.
Hold her down, Trace.
All my lovely clothes gone.
Look on the bright side.
You got a new pair of trainers out of it.
Well, they're new to you, anyway.
I'll tell you what did go like hotcakes, your Herpes handbags.
Hermes.
Whatever.
So, how much did we make? Nearly £1,287.
Ooh.
We'd have made double that if we'd sold them through a specialist outlet.
I ain't got time for that.
I've got bills to pay.
Right, I've worked out that you owe me £1,150 which means that I owe you £136.
90.
There you go.
Give me that.
I'll tell you what, Dor.
When it gets dark you get a different sort of bloke who comes here with his car.
You come back then and you could double that.
All right, Dor? Fine.
Do you want a cup of tea? Yeah, that would be lovely.
That'll be £1.
50.
You don't want to run up debts you can't pay for.
Only joking, Dor.
I'll put the kettle on, eh? I am so glad my mother isn't here to see me like this.
Be upset, would she? No, she'd be delighted.
She always said I'd end up with nothing and she just loved being right.
Well, if you're looking down, Mother, or more likely up, congratulations.
Cheer up, Dor.
You just have to get yourself into a different mindset.
Say goodbye Dolce & Gabbana and hello shoplifting.
I know you mean well, Sharon, but you really have no idea how I feel.
My wardrobe has been so severely decimated that I'm reduced to wearing last season's Donna Karan with a Dior skirt circa 2010.
Oh, poor you.
And tomorrow's headline will say, 'Pensioner found strangled with her own Gucci belt.
And not this year's Gucci belt.
' Garth, Marcie, lounge, now.
What's going on? I'm putting my foot down.
Sit.
You are all living in my house and I'm the only one with a job.
While it's very nice having you here, I ain't a branch of Help the Homeless.
So you all need to get out and get some money.
Well, I've got £130 from the car boot sale.
You owe me for that massage.
I'm earning, Trace.
And Garth's got a job.
Jamie Oliver got in touch? Not exactly.
The French one on the corner? Raymond Le Roux? Michel Le Blanc.
No, Seedy McCrusty's.
You know, that sandwich chain.
It's temporary, all right? Just till word gets round.
Oh, never mind, love.
From little acorns big mountains do grow.
Well done.
Right, that just leaves you two.
I suppose I could always go back to World of Quid.
I thought you'd chucked it in.
Well, I haven't left officially.
They probably just think I'm round the back having a crafty fag.
Anyway, I'm writing my new book.
That'll take ages to come out and be a load of codswallop when it does.
Never become a literary agent, Tracey.
I'm talking about a proper job.
For me, what? Let's think about what qualities you've got.
You're manipulative.
You're selfish.
You're cunning.
Maybe something in public relations.
You've never done a proper day's work.
There's only place that'd employ you.
Welcome to World of Quid.
Harrods for poor people.
Sharon.
Best not make eye contact with the punters, Dor.
They're all a bit rough.
Most mornings even I feel like Pippa Middleton.
Mind you, you want to see the rubbish they get through the doors at 99p Heaven.
What's that? That's Winnie.
She pops in for a cuppa since the council closed down the day centre.
Obviously we don't have a dress code.
Eugh, this is a nightmare.
No, Dor, this is the real world.
Your Kirsty Allsopp, artisan bread, Harvey Nicks lifestyle - that's the illusion.
It's not a world I want to stay in for a second longer.
Sorry, I don't want to work here.
No-one does.
But, like you, we don't have an option.
The general manager's waiting in the office.
Word of warning.
Flashing your gusset at him won't do you no favours.
He's married, to a dentist called Cyril.
Go on.
You don't want one of them.
A woman brought one back yesterday.
She said when she lit it it went up like a Roman candle.
Took her eyebrows off.
Shouldn't you take them off the shelf? I just work here.
How long will this interview take? I need to know if she's earning so I know if I can go to Lidl or Waitrose.
I really hope she gets it.
Then she'll be the newbie.
It'll be my chance to make her life a misery for a change.
Don't you think she knows that? She'll nause it up on purpose.
Well, if she does you chuck her out of the en suite, right? Definitely.
What you grinning at? You're not having it, I am.
You can share the boxroom with Dorien.
Trace, I'd rather eat vegetables.
Here she comes and she's smiling, which means she didn't get it.
Well? We got on like a house on fire.
Apparently we went to the same university.
50 years apart.
So you got the job then? No.
I knew it.
When I told him about my degree he said I was far too overqualified.
Did you have to mention your degree? Couldn't you have made out you was a penniless old codger desperate for a job? Oh, hang on a minute, that's the truth, innit? Oh, don't worry.
Iceland are looking for cleaners.
If I could finish.
We talked about my degree and the two-year business studies course I took in night school.
And he was very impressed by the fact that I have a detailed knowledge of balance sheets and company accounts.
Have you? I was married for 27 years to an accountant with erectile dysfunction.
What else do you think we got up to in bed? I don't like how this is shaping up.
I bet you don't.
The bad news is your store manager has been let go due to gross incompetence.
Apparently hiring you was the last straw.
The good news is they've offered his job to me.
But you turned it down, right? You don't really want to work here, remember? Not as a till-operating, shelf-stacking drone like you.
But as an executive charged with whipping this store and its staff into shape - that's a challenge I couldn't resist.
I'll hand in my notice.
Oh, yeah? You do and you can find somewhere else to live.
So, Sharon, you can start by getting rid of Winnie.
This isn't a branch of Age UK.
Then you can sweep up the garden section.
Then you can clean out whatever it is that's blocking up the staff toilet.
It looks suspiciously like one of yours.
This is going to be such fun.
Fair enough, Dor.
And to welcome you to World of Quid I'd like to present you with this scented candle.
Think of me when you light it.
Argh! What was that noise? I didn't hear anything.
Yep, fire away.
You what? You dirty toerag.
Yeah, I will tell her.
And then I'll tell the old bill.
You were sitting there three hours ago.
And you'd better not call back, you slimeball.
Who was that? Some sleazebag going on about how much he'll pay you if you service his massive pump.
Nerve of the perv.
Eugh.
That's Mr Bolland, my best customer.
Bolland? I thought he said Bell- Sharon.
I told you I'm doing telesales.
Yeah, I know.
But I didn't know it was phone sex.
Why don't you ever listen? It's a plumbing supplies company.
One of us has got to earn a living.
I've got a job.
I thought you weren't going back to World of Quid.
I mean waiting on Dorien hand and foot.
For no money.
What do you mean no money? She's bunging us 500 a week.
No, she's bunging you 500 a week.
I'm just her unpaid slave.
In fact, you are infringing my human rights.
I could take you to a tribunial.
Well, before you do that you can take yourself down the shop.
I forgot Dorien's Ivory Soap Flakes.
What about my coffee? You ain't got time for that.
I'll go on strike.
No-one'd notice.
Er, may I look at this one, please? Oh.
It's £1,500.
We do have a few more affordable items at the back of the shop.
Allow me to explain.
I am an internationally-acclaimed bestselling author.
You work in a shop.
I have accounts on 5th Avenue, Bond Street and the Avenue Montaigne.
You've obviously been dressed by George of Asda.
While I would warn you appearances can be deceptive, you are exactly the snot-nosed Essex princess I suspected you were when I came in.
Door.
Hmph.
Oi! What were you doing in Chigwell's ponciest bag shop? They charge you a hundred quid just to look down their noses at you.
I'll go in there now and again, just to frighten the life out of them But you, lady, are on a strict budget.
Until your copyright contract thingy's been sorted out.
I am painfully aware of that, Sharon.
How the flighty have fallen.
Nothing wrong with a bit of Primarni though.
What'd you get? Do you mind? Taxi! Oi! You can't waste dosh on a cab.
We'll get a bus.
I have not been on a bus since I left the Barbra Streisand High School for go-getting Jewish girls.
Well, it's time you got reacquainted then.
We'll go to the newsagent, get you an Oyster.
Newsagents sell seafood now? You have no idea, have you? Tracey, I need to speak to you now.
What's so bleedin' urgent? One of my breakfast eggs was too runny and the other was hard.
How does she do that? It weren't easy.
I'll mention it to my staff.
Sharon, sort it.
Now, leave me alone.
I've got work to do.
That lingerie is pure Italian silk.
You are washing it with Ivory Soap Flakes, as I asked.
Of course.
Cillit Bang? It was the closest I could get.
I should never have trusted my delicates to Chigwell's answer to Edward Scissorhands.
Right, rinse them out, hang them up, attend to my ironing and then come and clean my en suite.
You're having a laugh, in't you? Listen, lady - When I agreed to pay Tracey a handsome rent to stay here instead of a hotel she promised me civility and service.
Does what you're about to say fit in with that? Thought not.
And that includes hand gestures.
Anyone seen my order book? I'm going to swing for her, Trace.
She's only got me handwashing her pants.
At least she's wearing 'em now.
She's taking liberties.
She's got me fetching, ironing, cleaning - Tough.
She's paying our rent.
End of.
Let me get on with my telesales.
I'm warning you.
If she calls me from the toilet and asks me to wipe her Sharon.
.
.
you'll be the one pulling her face out of the U-bend.
Go on.
Go on! No! Aww! Hooray! You all right, Mum? Yeah, fine.
It's a lovely day.
Why don't you take Poppy to Legoland or something? Nanny Tracey would take you but she's too busy working.
Thing is, Mum, we're broke.
Maybe you should think about getting a job.
I'm getting my massage business up and running.
I've registered with a catering agency.
Once word gets round I'll be swamped.
I've got an idea.
Why don't I cook us all my speciality for lunch? Oh, yum! Have you got any smoked pig cheeks? Oh, no, what a shame.
Sharon just used the last of it in a fry-up.
I'll make beans on toast after I've finished these calls.
Thanks, Mum.
Er, Trace.
Are these supposed to be crotchless? Or have I been rubbing too hard? Ow.
Ow! Oww! Where did you learn to massage, Guantanamo Bay? Don't expect a repeat booking.
Shame.
I do a discount for OAPs.
That bathroom is spotless.
You can see your face in that bidet.
Or anything else you might want to look at.
And why have you got four different types of make-up remover? I just rub my face in the pillow.
This house is like Piccadilly Circus in the rush hour.
Tell me about it.
And would somebody please have a word with Poppy? There was a pair of skates outside my door.
If I had tripped on them I could have broken my neck.
It weren't Poppy who left them there.
Thing is, Dor, I'm not really earning and the bills are stacking up.
Spare me the domestic drama.
Would you like an advance on your rent? Please.
If you could get them to transfer it now.
No offence, I love having you all here.
It's just - I get it, Tracey.
It's fine.
Yes, hello.
Dorien Green.
Date of birth? 1876.
Is she paying you for her massage? Damn straight she is.
Bet she tries to rook me though.
She moaned all the way through it.
Said it was like being manhandled by the Turkish wrestling squad.
And she'd know.
It wasn't no walk in the park for me.
She's all skin and gristle.
It's like putting your hands on a half-starved chicken.
But that can't be right.
Let me speak to someone in authority immediately.
There must be more than that in there.
What about my other account? FoxyCohen1, brackets, Handbags and Frocks, close brackets.
Oh, I see.
Did they transfer the money OK? Not yet.
Computer glitch.
So why has all the colour drained from your face? Maybe one of her facelifts is leaking.
They're just saying that there isn't as much in there as I thought.
But it's wrong.
You're skint, ain't you? No, I'm not.
It's a mistake.
Let's all go out for lunch.
My treat.
She's in denial.
Shall I slap her? That's if someone's hysterical.
You say tomato No! You said you'd pay me £500 a week.
I thought I could.
It turns out my solicitor's keeping it all as a retainer.
That's left me right up the creek.
How am I supposed to pay the bills? Let me slap her, Trace.
No.
What is going to become of me? Oh, my God.
I'll have to go on benefits.
Huh.
You'll be out of luck, love.
The golden years have gone.
You've got to have half a lung and 14 dependents before you can even get a milk token now.
We kept telling you not to spend but you carried on buying new clothes.
Well, it's only Primark.
I don't know what you bought in there but it weren't this.
Stella bleedin' McCartney.
Oh, my God, how many clothes have you got? Unbelievable.
Designer.
Designer.
Designer.
Slapper.
How many black skirts do you need? You ain't going to be kitting out the army wives choir.
It's a compulsion.
Nice things validate me.
I'll validate you in a minute.
If you can't afford it then you're not staying here.
No, please, Tracey, don't throw me out.
Sharon, get the bin bags.
Oh, cheer up, Dor.
You've got a face like Wayne Rooney chewing a thistle.
There must be another way.
We can't sell all my beautiful clothes.
Have you found a couple of grand in your knickers? Of course I haven't.
Then they're going.
Where exactly are we headed? Chelsea? Camden Market? Haven't you told her? Told me what? Here we go.
No! Here, look at that.
What's happening? Dealers.
They're trying to get their hands on your goods.
Been a long time since anyone said that.
Get away.
Get away.
Get away.
Get away.
Arghhh! Grab 'em while you can, girls.
This is a one-off liquidation sale.
Due to a very old concern facing financial ruin.
That's a Donna Karan exclusive.
Have you washed your hands? Excuse me? He's an ex-drag queen.
He's flogging all his gear and finding it hard to let go.
How much is this? £250.
40 quid.
And I'll throw in a scarf.
That's from Liberty's.
I suppose I could put that on my dog.
You have no idea how appropriate that is.
Thanks, lovely, cheers.
These people are philistines.
They wouldn't know class if it crawled in their ear and shouted Chanel.
Would these suit me? No, you'd look like a pig in ballet pumps.
Put them down.
Stop putting the punters off or I'll lock you in the car.
They're not having my Stella McCartney.
If you don't want to end up in Boots doorway wrapped in cardboard, sit down and shut your gob.
Mum, it's that sort off TOWIE.
She's not a 'sort', she's a girl.
Here, Shal, it's that sort off TOWIE.
Oh, yeah! Excuse me, you're er you're you, in't you? Yeah, but keep it quiet.
I'm trying to keep a low profile.
Yeah, yeah, course.
But you're blending right in.
I really love these D&G knock-offs.
How dare you? They are genuine and original.
Yeah, course they are, babe! Oh, my God.
I love those shoes.
What, these? No.
These? No.
Those.
No! These are my favourite Manolo Blahnik's.
Hold her down, Trace.
All my lovely clothes gone.
Look on the bright side.
You got a new pair of trainers out of it.
Well, they're new to you, anyway.
I'll tell you what did go like hotcakes, your Herpes handbags.
Hermes.
Whatever.
So, how much did we make? Nearly £1,287.
Ooh.
We'd have made double that if we'd sold them through a specialist outlet.
I ain't got time for that.
I've got bills to pay.
Right, I've worked out that you owe me £1,150 which means that I owe you £136.
90.
There you go.
Give me that.
I'll tell you what, Dor.
When it gets dark you get a different sort of bloke who comes here with his car.
You come back then and you could double that.
All right, Dor? Fine.
Do you want a cup of tea? Yeah, that would be lovely.
That'll be £1.
50.
You don't want to run up debts you can't pay for.
Only joking, Dor.
I'll put the kettle on, eh? I am so glad my mother isn't here to see me like this.
Be upset, would she? No, she'd be delighted.
She always said I'd end up with nothing and she just loved being right.
Well, if you're looking down, Mother, or more likely up, congratulations.
Cheer up, Dor.
You just have to get yourself into a different mindset.
Say goodbye Dolce & Gabbana and hello shoplifting.
I know you mean well, Sharon, but you really have no idea how I feel.
My wardrobe has been so severely decimated that I'm reduced to wearing last season's Donna Karan with a Dior skirt circa 2010.
Oh, poor you.
And tomorrow's headline will say, 'Pensioner found strangled with her own Gucci belt.
And not this year's Gucci belt.
' Garth, Marcie, lounge, now.
What's going on? I'm putting my foot down.
Sit.
You are all living in my house and I'm the only one with a job.
While it's very nice having you here, I ain't a branch of Help the Homeless.
So you all need to get out and get some money.
Well, I've got £130 from the car boot sale.
You owe me for that massage.
I'm earning, Trace.
And Garth's got a job.
Jamie Oliver got in touch? Not exactly.
The French one on the corner? Raymond Le Roux? Michel Le Blanc.
No, Seedy McCrusty's.
You know, that sandwich chain.
It's temporary, all right? Just till word gets round.
Oh, never mind, love.
From little acorns big mountains do grow.
Well done.
Right, that just leaves you two.
I suppose I could always go back to World of Quid.
I thought you'd chucked it in.
Well, I haven't left officially.
They probably just think I'm round the back having a crafty fag.
Anyway, I'm writing my new book.
That'll take ages to come out and be a load of codswallop when it does.
Never become a literary agent, Tracey.
I'm talking about a proper job.
For me, what? Let's think about what qualities you've got.
You're manipulative.
You're selfish.
You're cunning.
Maybe something in public relations.
You've never done a proper day's work.
There's only place that'd employ you.
Welcome to World of Quid.
Harrods for poor people.
Sharon.
Best not make eye contact with the punters, Dor.
They're all a bit rough.
Most mornings even I feel like Pippa Middleton.
Mind you, you want to see the rubbish they get through the doors at 99p Heaven.
What's that? That's Winnie.
She pops in for a cuppa since the council closed down the day centre.
Obviously we don't have a dress code.
Eugh, this is a nightmare.
No, Dor, this is the real world.
Your Kirsty Allsopp, artisan bread, Harvey Nicks lifestyle - that's the illusion.
It's not a world I want to stay in for a second longer.
Sorry, I don't want to work here.
No-one does.
But, like you, we don't have an option.
The general manager's waiting in the office.
Word of warning.
Flashing your gusset at him won't do you no favours.
He's married, to a dentist called Cyril.
Go on.
You don't want one of them.
A woman brought one back yesterday.
She said when she lit it it went up like a Roman candle.
Took her eyebrows off.
Shouldn't you take them off the shelf? I just work here.
How long will this interview take? I need to know if she's earning so I know if I can go to Lidl or Waitrose.
I really hope she gets it.
Then she'll be the newbie.
It'll be my chance to make her life a misery for a change.
Don't you think she knows that? She'll nause it up on purpose.
Well, if she does you chuck her out of the en suite, right? Definitely.
What you grinning at? You're not having it, I am.
You can share the boxroom with Dorien.
Trace, I'd rather eat vegetables.
Here she comes and she's smiling, which means she didn't get it.
Well? We got on like a house on fire.
Apparently we went to the same university.
50 years apart.
So you got the job then? No.
I knew it.
When I told him about my degree he said I was far too overqualified.
Did you have to mention your degree? Couldn't you have made out you was a penniless old codger desperate for a job? Oh, hang on a minute, that's the truth, innit? Oh, don't worry.
Iceland are looking for cleaners.
If I could finish.
We talked about my degree and the two-year business studies course I took in night school.
And he was very impressed by the fact that I have a detailed knowledge of balance sheets and company accounts.
Have you? I was married for 27 years to an accountant with erectile dysfunction.
What else do you think we got up to in bed? I don't like how this is shaping up.
I bet you don't.
The bad news is your store manager has been let go due to gross incompetence.
Apparently hiring you was the last straw.
The good news is they've offered his job to me.
But you turned it down, right? You don't really want to work here, remember? Not as a till-operating, shelf-stacking drone like you.
But as an executive charged with whipping this store and its staff into shape - that's a challenge I couldn't resist.
I'll hand in my notice.
Oh, yeah? You do and you can find somewhere else to live.
So, Sharon, you can start by getting rid of Winnie.
This isn't a branch of Age UK.
Then you can sweep up the garden section.
Then you can clean out whatever it is that's blocking up the staff toilet.
It looks suspiciously like one of yours.
This is going to be such fun.
Fair enough, Dor.
And to welcome you to World of Quid I'd like to present you with this scented candle.
Think of me when you light it.
Argh! What was that noise? I didn't hear anything.