Goodnight Sweetheart

Ron Wheatcroft:
How do you know the future you've got now is the same future you're going to have if something in the past is different from the last time you went back to the future?

Gary Sparrow:
My wives exist in different temporal aspects of a four-dimensional space-time continuum.

Ron Wheatcroft:
Typical bigamist's excuse!

Ron Wheatcroft:
You're hyperventilating, Gary. Put your head between your knees.

Gary Sparrow:
What, so I can kiss my arse goodbye?

[repeated line]

Old Codger:
Oy! Ladies present.

[repeated line]

Reg:
You don't want to listen to my problems.

Gary:
You know what he's like. He never uses one word when ten'll do.

Ron:
Are you insinuating that my verbal utterances are unduly complex? Whilst freely admitting to a leaning towards loquaciousness, I must nevertheless protest.

Reg:
I'm sorry, son, but it's just not [yells] flaming good enough. [recovers] There, you see what you done. I'm so het up I went and used the F-word.

Gary:
My situation's completely different; all my indiscretions are in the past. Even my future indiscretions are in the past.

[last lines]

Yvonne:
Gary, you don't look at all well. Why don't you come to bed?

Gary:
Uh, not yet. Um, you go up; I'll be there in a minute.

Yvonne:
OK, but don't be long, Gar.

Gary:
No.

[first lines]

Gary Sparrow:
[waking up] What time is it? [opens the window shade] 1941. What a surprise.

[first lines]

Ron:
Sorry I woke you. Forgot my keys.

Gary:
I was in the middle of a dream where I was trapped in an Anderson shelter with Vera Lynn.

Ron:
Then I got here just in time.

Gary:
Don't you have a go at Vera. You might see her as some old dear who just bashes out endless renditions of 'The White Cliffs of Dover', but in my other life she's a major babe: Gary Sparrow's Rear of the Year 1941.

Ron:
There's no satisfying you, is there? Two birds on the go, and still you dream about her.

Gary:
Yeah, well, as Yvonne is five and a half thousand miles away in Korea and Phoebe has gone into her 'no sex, please, we're pregnant' mode, all I can do is dream about her.

[last lines]

Gary:
[as Phoebe sobs on his shoulder] It's all right, Reg, it's all right. She's just very, very happy.

[Reg grimaces and shakes his head]

[first lines]

Phoebe:
Gary, I don't want to be a nag, but you go out that door and I've no idea when you'll be back.

Gary:
Look, I'll try and pop back tonight, I promise.

Phoebe:
We're married now; you got responsibilities.

Gary:
Phoebe, being a spy isn't a nine to five job, you know.I can hardly turn to M halfway through a mission and say, "I'm sorry, sir, it's five o'clock; I've got to go home for my tea now."

Phoebe:
Yeah, I'll bet when you do get hungry that Miss Moneypenny's always got something hot for you.

Gary:
There is nothing between me and Moneypenny. OK, I admit she has got a bit of a thing for me. Well, there's this trick I do, you know: I throw my hat onto a hook, and she laughs, but she understands I'm strictly out of bounds.

[last lines]

Yvonne:
Why don't you get a mobile?

Gary:
Huh?

Yvonne:
Well, I could ring you whenever I wanted then.

Gary:
I don't like them. No, they, they reckon they give out radiation; you know, very bad for your head.

Yvonne:
Rubbish!

Gary:
Uh, I've seen the research.

Yvonne:
Where?

Gary:
In... newspapers. Look, why are we having this conversation?

Yvonne:
Well, you started it. Anyway, I haven't got time; I've got to go.

Gary:
Oh, right.

Yvonne:
Bye. [kisses him]

Gary:
Bye. [she leaves] Whew! [slaps his own wrist] See what happens when you start getting cocky.

[Gary and Phoebe are looking at cots and prams in Harrods. Phoebe feels very out-of-place in such grand surroundings]

Phoebe:
[looking at the price of a cot] Bleedin' 'ell - you could buy a car for that!

[the shop assistant comes across to her]

Shop Assistant:
[patronisingly] I wonder, is Madam quite sure she has sufficient wherewithal for this particular item?

Phoebe:
Beg your pardon?

Shop Assistant:
It's very expensive. May I suggest that Madam would be more at home with the seconds in our remainders department.

[Phoebe looks crestfallen and complains to Gary who goes up to the assistant]

Gary:
[cockney accent] 'Scuse me, Guv. Can I 'ave a word in your shell-like? You see, me and the trouble-and-strife, we've come up West on the chara to get a few bits and pieces for our new saucepan-lid, right? But if you continue to give my ball-and-chain grief, we're gonna 'ave to get on our plates-of-meat and take our business up the frog-and-toad. No skin off my wotsit. Currant bun's out - it's a lovely day for a ball-of-chalk.

Shop Assistant:
I'm afraid I don't quite follow you.

Gary:
[posh accent] Then let me use a language I'm sure you *will* understand.

[produces a large wad of fivers]

Gary:
I am prepared to spend obscene amounts of this - but only if my good lady is fawned over, grovelled at and generally made to feel like the lady she is.

[he surreptitiously puts a wad of coupons into the assistant's hand]

Gary:
Petrol coupons. Am I making myself clear now?

Shop Assistant:
Perfectly, sir.

Shop Assistant:
[obsequiously, to Phoebe] Madam, allow me to apologise for the earlier misunderstanding. Please be assured I am your disposal just as long as you need me. Now if Madam would be so kind as to tell me what she's looking for, I will have the items brought over immediately for your perusal.

[the assistant calls for a chair to be brought over so Phoebe can sit down]

Gary:
[handing him some more coupons] Nice touch. Meat and sugar coupons. This will all have to stop when al Fayed takes over, you know.

[last lines]

Ron:
It's too crowded out here; let's go inside.

Gary:
Look,no, it's not. You and me are the only two out here except for Ken and Stella. Now jus... Yeah, you're right; it's like Piccadilly Circus. Come on in.

Ron:
He's snogging my witch!

Gary:
Ron. Ron, no!

[Ron decks Ken]

Ron:
You're not Stella!

Gillian:
Meat-eater! [she slaps his face]

Ron:
Oh, I don't understand.

Stella:
Well, we swapped costumes because mine was too tight. [raising her hand] You idiot!

Ron:
No! Don't slap me in the face again! [Stella knees him in the groin]

Gary:
Men!

[first lines]

Customer:
Here. Whatever you do, haggle with him. See this: 1939 teapot, mass produced to replace all the aluminium ones given up for the war effort. Mint condition. He let me have it for a hundred quid. That's twenty quid under catalogue. Heh.

Ron:
Do you know what that guy just told me?

Gary:
That I'd undercharged him. On account of that teapot being rarer than wedding tackle on an Action Man.

Ron:
That was the gist, yeah.

Gary:
[pulling another teapot from under the counter] I've got another twenty of these. They cost me the equivalent of four pounds fifty-seven p. If I charged more than a hundred quid, I couldn't sleep nights.

Gary:
Reg, has Phoebe got the hump with me?

Reg:
Probably time of the month.

Gary:
No, I don't think it's that.

Reg:
Oh, I think it is; used to get her dad the same.

Gary:
No, you mean her mum.

Reg:
No, don't think her mum ever did the monthly accounts.

Gary:
Night, Reg.

[drunkenly boasting to Canadian airmen]

Gary Sparrow:
The Few. That's who we are, mate. We are the Few. And I'll tell you something...

[conspiratorially]

Gary Sparrow:
There's *thousands* of us!

Ron:
Two wives. Oh, no no no no, I don't think so.

Gary:
Well, it does have its compensations, you know. All right, not just at the moment, perhaps.

Ron:
You mean sex. Nah. Married sex: bit like a job of work, isn't it? Sign in, check your tools, do your shift, watch the clock. No thank you. When it comes to sex, I am happy to be freelance.

Gary:
You don't mean freelance; you mean self-employed.

[last lines]

Yvonne:
Time to get up, Gary; haven't you got to get to the shop? I have had the best sleep of my life. You may sneer; holistic therapy is the way forward. A new start, just what we need, like, like being married for the first time. Gary! Gary! I've got to go; I'm seeing two masseurs and a man with wooden balls. You're out for the count, aren't you? You've been so tired lately. [picks up the alarm clock] Let's switch this off, shall we. Let you sleep. It's not as if you've got anything special on today.

[last lines]

Phoebe:
I know you're not like that George Harrison. Whenever he's away from his wife for a couple of nights, she knows what he's up to.

Gary:
How would she know?

Phoebe:
Well, deep down inside, a woman always knows. Piece of cake?

Gary:
Piece of cake. I wish it was, Phoebe, I only wish it was.

Gary:
Hello. [holding out his petition] Would you like to sign?

TV Reporter:
Oh, sorry, I'm from the BBC.

Gary:
I see. And you're not allowed to have your own opinion.

TV Reporter:
Under the present regime, it's not advisable.

[first lines]

Gary:
Is that you, Mrs Bloss? I'm afraid I must remain deaf to your blandishments. No, my body is a temple of purity. Even if you offered to reduce my rent...

Phoebe:
Gary, it's me.

Gary:
Oh. Come on in. I wasn't ex... What's wrong?

Phoebe:
Oh, Gary, this came this morning.

Gary:
From Donald.

Phoebe:
From the brewery. They want me out.

[first lines]

Yvonne:
See you tomorrow, Josephine. And night, Magnus. Thanks for the after-dinner mints.

Josephine:
Don't be daft, Yvonne. Our turn next!

Gary:
[mutters] God, no.

Josephine:
Bye!

Gary:
Bye! It was lovely!

[door closes]

Gary:
Haven't has so much fun since I fell off my bicycle.

Yvonne:
Oh, you didn't have to be so off-hand all through dinner.

Gary:
No, I didn't have to be; I just thought the occasion called for it. Where'd you find people like that? Bores 'R' Us?

Phoebe:
Why didn't you ever write, you *bastard*!

Old Codger:
Oy! Ladies present.

Phoebe:
I'm the only lady present, and if you don't like the language in here you can go and drink somewhere else, you silly old sod.

[last lines]

Thursfield:
I really wish there was some way I could ease your disappointment.

Ron:
There is. Give us the key to the safe, close your eyes and count to a thousand.

Thursfield:
I don't think head office would like that.

Gary:
I don't suppose you do mortgages, do you?

[first lines]

Gary:
So. This is dockside living, eh. This is a skinner's yard, you know. Skins and pelts used to be stored in here.

Ron:
No, Gray. Fruit. It is called Citrus Wharf.

Gary:
Ron, I came here in 1941. There were ropy old skins hanging everywhere, and there's a big pile of carcasses down that end.

Ron:
No, Gary. Oranges and lemons, Gary. This place has had oranges and lemons in it since it was built. Nell Gwynne had a discount card here; the estate agent told me.

Yvonne:
I just have to find another way to live, Gary; another way to love. And no, I don't mean on the kitchen table dressed up in a nurse's uniform.

Gary:
Aw, shame. I was looking for a spot of therapy myself.

Yvonne:
I'll sort you out when I've sorted meself out.

Gary:
Promise?

Gary:
Women! They just do your head in, don't they? They must learn it at school. Yeah, it's domestic science, isn't it? How to poach an egg and how to scramble a bloke's brains.

Yvonne:
[to Gary] Give me one good reason why I shouldn't strangle you!

Gary:
Um...

Ron:
It's illegal. It's a lot harder than it looks on the telly and it takes longer.

[last lines]

Gary:
This is a wartime wedding, Phoebe, so I want our best man to be important, well, symbolic even. So, it's not going to be any old friend or workmate for us, Phoebe. Oh, no, better than that: it will be a soldier, or a sailor, or an airman. Phoebe, we will have the best best man of all: a British fighting man.

Reg:
Bravo, Gary. Bravo.

Phoebe:
Oh, I see. Wonderful. I'll be standing at the altar, and you'll be out on the street trying to pick up a sailor.

Gary Sparrow:
Can you please read a little more quietly - you're drowning out John Motson.

Yvonne Sparrow:
Well I'm sorry, Gary, but I think this is a little more important that the fate of Arsenal Football Club.

Gary Sparrow:
More important that the Arsenal! I didn't realize there was a meteor on collision course with the earth.

[Gary is panicking because Yvonne has brought home a book containing a photograph of him with Noel Coward taken in 1945]

Ron Wheatcroft:
That *will* be hard to explain when Yvonne sees it.

Gary Sparrow:
Lipstick on your collar is hard to explain. Calling out another woman's name in bed is hard to explain. Appearing in a photograph taken two decades before you were born is the Twilight Zone.

[Ron is reading a book that describes new ways of meeting and impressing women]

Ron Wheatcroft:
[reads from book] "Chapter 12 - Prowling the Urban Jungle"

Gary Sparrow:
You're going on the pull in the Bronx?

Ron Wheatcroft:
No, Safeways?

Gary Sparrow:
Safeways is the urban jungle?

Ron Wheatcroft:
According to this book, supermarkets are the number one place to meet unattached women under forty. They're better than singles bars. Plus you can pick up a loaf.

Gary Sparrow:
Sound very romantic. "Where did you meet?" "Oh, at the cheese counter. Our eyes met across an ageing Gorgonzola and within a few minutes we'd exchanged loyalty card numbers."

[first lines]

Gary:
Hi.

Yvonne:
Hi.

Gary:
I thought I'd do kidneys for supper.

Yvonne:
What? Why?

Gary:
Oh, I don't know. I just saw these lamb kidneys in the butcher's windows and a little voice in my head went "yum".

Yvonne:
Well, a little voice in my stomach just went "yuck". You know I don't like kidneys.

Gary:
I didn't know you don't like kidneys. We've never had kidneys.

Yvonne:
Yes, that's why.

Gary:
If I knew you didn't like kidneys, would I have bought kidneys?

Yvonne:
You know you might unconsciously be punishing me.

Gary:
For what?

Yvonne:
For making you do the cooking.

Gary:
You don't make me do the cooking; I like doing the cooking. It was my suggestion, if you recall, that we share that particular chore.

Yvonne:
Perhaps, but subliminally your male ego was feeling threatened, and so you offer me this extraordinarily symbolic meal to say: "Look, you are unmanning me."

Gary:
You been sunbathing without a hat again? What do you mean, symbolic?

Yvonne:
Well, kidneys look like testicles, right? And you offer them to me on a plate, metaphorically saying: "Here is my manhood. Now are you satisfied?"

Gary:
[pause] How about a cheese omelette?

[last lines]

Yvonne:
They should have given you the job. You were the best man, even if you have got crap dress sense.

Gary:
You mean that? About the job?

Yvonne:
Of course I mean it. I love you, Gary.

Gary:
Despite my crap dress sense?

Yvonne:
I prefer you without your clothes on, actually. Oh, come on, Gary; let's go and do what you do best.

Gary:
Yvonne, I'm not putting up a satellite dish at this time of night.

Yvonne:
That's better.

Phoebe:
Gary, there's uh, there's somebody else over here waiting for a kiss.

Gary:
Oh, I'm sorry. Pucker up, Reg.

[last lines]

Phoebe:
Drinks all round, I think.

Reg:
Oh, I could do serious damage to a pint.

Phoebe:
Well, [the tap handle comes off in her hand] looks like you already have, Reg.

Phoebe:
Gary, don't you want us to start a family?

Gary:
Yeah. Yeah, of course. I mean, starting a family is the most enjoyable bit, isn't it? It's the next twenty bears that bothers me.

[first lines]

Yvonne:
Knackered! How can you be knackered? You just had two days taking it easy at a trade fair.

Gary:
They only call them fairs, you know; there's no dodge-ems or candy floss. Delegates don't get sent home with a confused goldfish in a little plastic bag.

Yvonne:
Ooh, you've come back in a right snarky mood.

Gary:
Have not, it's you. Gone all aggressive again since you started working for those Koreans.

Yvonne:
Well, what's wrong with working for Koreans all of a sudden?

Gary:
[pause] They eat dogs.

Yvonne:
No, they don't!

Gary:
Yes, they do; Ron told me.

Yvonne:
Well, excuse me, but in the two weeks I've been working there I've not seen one single dog eaten. Not even nibbled.

Gary:
Yeah, well, I'm sure they're very discreet about it. You check out the girl who gets their sandwiches. Whilst everyone else is queueing up down the caff, they send her out for a slice of whatever's going at the poodle parlour.

Yvonne Sparrow:
If there *is* anyone else, just tell me. Let's get it out in the open. There's be lots of hard feelings and that'll be that.

Gary Sparrow:
Look, Yvonne, I promise you there is nobody else on this whole planet for me - except you.

Yvonne Sparrow:
Oh great! You mean you're screwing an alien!

[last lines]

Phoebe:
Good night, Mr Sparrow.

Gary:
Good night, sweetheart.

[Gary is trapped in a barn with Rock Justice who was an actor in war films before he joined the army. The Germans are about to attack them. Gary needs to create a diversion]

Rock Justice:
Do something!

Gary Sparrow:
What do you suggest? What did you do in that film?

Rock Justice:
Shot a battalion of Germans, overturned a tank, sank a battleship... oh, and captured Rommel.

Gary Sparrow:
[sarcastically] Well I'll only be gone ten minutes, then!

[first lines]

Gary:
Yes, of course I still miss you. Of course I haven't sought solace in the arms of another woman.

Gary:
No, Ron has not led me astray, I promise you. In fact I've hardly seen him the last few days since he moved out.

Ron:
[yells] Yes!

Gary:
No, of course I can't wait to see you.

Gary:
Yeah, all right. Yeah, I love you too.

Gary:
What?

Gary:
So does Nobby Nobbit. Yes. [hangs up]

Gary:
I did say if you didn't want to...

Yvonne:
You should have been a man. You should have put your foot down.

Gary:
Yvonne, whenever I put my foot down, you just kick me in the shin.

[last lines]

Gary:
So, how was your day?

Ron:
Oh, fine.

Gary:
Hey, did your surrogate turn up?

Ron:
Not exactly.

Gary:
Huh. Hard luck.

Ron:
Not exactly. Well, Yvonne's mum swept in here like Desert Storm, claiming to know all about me even though I'd never met the woman before in my life, so when she headed off to the bedroom there was quite understandably what you might call a slight case of crossed wires.

Gary:
Ron, you didn't think that...

Ron:
It was an easy mistake! You'd never believe she was fifty-one, would you? You can hardly see the liposuction scars.

Gary:
Ron, you didn't! Not with Yvonne's mu...

Ron:
Gentlemen may kiss but never tell. I tell you what, though, young Gary, you'd better start treating me with some respect, because if I play my cards right I could be your father-in-law.

Helen:
Are you going to keep her here overnight?

Dr. Obote:
I'd like to. You are private, aren't you, Mrs Sparrow? [Yvonne nods] Then I think she should stay in for at least another 48 hours.

Gary:
That's terrible! Do you mean if she was NHS you'd give her two aspirin and send her home in an ambulance?

Dr. Obote:
[chuckles] Ambulance! [shakes his head] Minicab,

Gary:
World War II just seems so much more tranquil than the present day.

Gary:
Has anyone ever told you you're a sad bastard?

Ron:
Stella. You. Yvonne. Stella's mum. And that girl from the Kentucky Fried Chicken with the ring through her nose.

[first lines]

Hazel:
Good evening, sir, I wonder if you could spare a minute.

Gary:
Ah no, don't tell me; you're an unemployed young person who's decided to get on their bike and you're here to give me the opportunity of buying a genuine, Jurassic Park, solid plastic tax disc holder for the bargain price of...

Hazel:
Ah no, I'm collecting for charity. I put a plastic bag and a card through your door yesterday to say we'd be round collecting unwanted clothes, yeah?

Gary:
Oh, yeah, sorry, yeah, sorted some out for you. [offers the suit he wears back to 1940] Here you go.

Hazel:
I said charity, not the Victoria and Albert Museum.

Yvonne:
I bought another video, too.

Gary:
Oh.

[looks at the case]

Gary:
I don't want to watch a martial arts film.

Yvonne:
It's not martial, my little dyslexic, it's marital.

[first lines]

Yvonne:
Gary, I think we'll put an ad in the 'Evening Standard'. Listen to this. Interior designer's pied-?-terre in Northwest Hampstead.

Gary:
Hampstead?

Yvonne:
Well, you've got to be creative to sell a house these days, I mean nobody wants to live in Cricklewood, do they?

Gary:
Well, why don't you go the whole hog, eh? Incredibly spacious Manhattan-style warehouse apartment with swimming pool, tennis court and rare-species aviary. Five minutes from Doitall.

Yvonne:
Well, we've got to sell the house somehow; otherwise we'll lose Maple Avenue.

Gary:
[to himself] Yeah, looking on the bright side.

Yvonne:
Oh, never mind. Come to bed.

[last lines]

Police Constable:
You've had a right skinful, haven't you?

Gary:
No. I haven't had a drink for fifty-three years. Oh, c'mon, bag. Shall I drive?

Yvonne:
What are you going to do with all this stuff? Car boot sale or safe deposit box?

Gary:
Uh, no, there's a nineteen-forties memorabilia fair coming up next weekend. In Runcorn, as luck would have it.

Yvonne:
I've been to Runcorn, and luck doesn't come into it.

Gary:
No, I mean it's, it's lucky because Ron's brother lives up that way. So I can spend overnight at his place then do the fair, make a few quid. Might even bring you back something.

Yvonne:
Thanks. Do without my very own personal gas mask.

Gary:
That's not what you said the last time we had chilli con carne with extra beans.

[last lines]

Yvonne:
[watching newsreel on video] Gary!

Gary:
Yeah?

Yvonne:
Who does he remind you of?

Gary:
Who?

Yvonne:
The doctor! He's a dead ringer for you!

Gary:
Well, yeah. Suppose I might have looked like that... if I'd been around then.

[first lines]

Phoebe:
Look, I have just spent three hours queuing up outside the greengrocer's and all I've got to show for it is ten pounds of spuds, a pound of curly kale and chilblains. It wouldn't hurt you to get your own tea for once!

Gary:
Can't imagine Eric in a pinny.

Phoebe:
Oh. Hello, Gary. I was just giving Dad a piece of my mind.

Gary:
About the only thing not on the ration, I suppose.

PC Deadman:
'Allo. 'Allo, 'allo

Gary:
So that's where it started.

PC Deadman:
I don't think it's good enough. I've got a good mind...

Eric:
No, you haven't.

PC Deadman:
Eh?

Eric:
You got a good heart, but even your mother wouldn't say you got a good mind.

[last lines]

Gary:
You all right, mate? Enjoy the hamburger?

Arthur:
Great!

Gary:
And the milk shake?

Arthur:
Great! [pause] I think I'm going to be sick.

Gary:
Great.

Gary:
Were you drunk when you laid out this catalogue?

Ron:
Gary, I cannot deny that from time to time strong drink does pass the lips of Ron Wheatcroft the man, but Ron Wheatcroft the printer is made of sterner stuff. When carrying the baton passed down through inky-fingered generations by the noble Caxton, alcohol is a stranger to me. I print, therefore I am.

Gary:
Well, I've got a gasp gasp, a ration crook, and a rap warden's pelmet.

Ron:
I was drunk. I shall be drunk again. I'm sad, I'm confused, and I'm tense. Being drunk helps me to relax. Well, it helps me fall over.

[first lines]

Yvonne:
What are you doing?

Gary:
I thought I heard a Spitfire, but it was a plane from the flying school.

Yvonne:
Ooh, isn't it a gorgeous evening. Not a cloud in the sky.

Gary:
Yeah. Wouldn't be surprised if Jerry came over tonight.

Yvonne:
Jerry? We don't know anybody called Jerry.

[last lines]

Ron:
Oh, Yvonne. He'll be all right. After all, the police said that loads of people go missing every week. The majority of them turn up a few days later with a sheepish expression and a perfectly plausible explanation. Not necessarily true, but plausible.

Gary:
Yvonne.

Yvonne:
God, Gary, I was frantic!

Gary:
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't phone. I was delivering a baby.

Ron:
That's perfectly plausible.

Yvonne:
Thank God. Only I was terrified you'd been caught up in the bombing.

Gary:
Wha... You and your imagination.

[last lines]

Ron:
Stella. I am so so so very sorry.

Stella:
What the hell happened to you? And it better be good.

Ron:
My watch stopped.

Gary:
He's my best friend!

Yvonne:
Gary, a man's best friend should be his wife!

Gary:
No, I think you'll find that pride of place belongs to his dog.

[first lines]

Yvonne:
Oh, oof, Gary, d'you watch the wallpaper darling.

Gary:
If you just get out of the way, I can put them down.

[they enter the living room]

Gary:
Oh, look at my nose.

Yvonne:
Could you wait till I get my sunglasses? I told you you should have worn sunblock.

Gary:
I look stupid in sunblock.

Yvonne:
Whatever you say... Rudolf. Oh, God, what a horrible journey.

Gary:
The flight wasn't that bad.

Yvonne:
Not talking about Ron's driving; I've never hit clear air turbulence on the A40 before.

[the curator is elderly and rather deaf]

Curator:
Here we are. Two Blosses, Henry and Cyril. Both joined on the same day, giving the same address. Probably brothers.

Gary:
Very astute.

Curator:
It says here, though, they both survived the Great War.

Gary:
Well, that's good news, isn't it, Ron?

Ron:
Wonderful news, Gary. So what became of the Bloss brothers.

Curator:
John Belushi died of an overdose.

Gary Sparrow:
I'm a time-traveller. It tends to dominate.

[last lines]

Yvonne:
You know, from the way you talked about her in that story, I got the impression there was something about that Phoebe that turned you on. Next time we make love would you like me to pretend to be her?

Gary:
No.

Yvonne:
Oh, go on! You can be Reg.

Gary:
I've got to get back. Help catch him. Left to Reg Deadman, he won't be caught until he's deposed Churchill and married the Queen. Hey, what am I saying? It might be a woman.

Ron:
Na. Spying's a man's job. Learning to live on your wits in a hostile environment. Marriage trains us for it.

[first lines]

Ron:
You going like that?

Gary:
Yeah. It's Sunday lunchtime at the local. It's more lager top than Lagerfeld.

Ron:
The King's Head is the hottest vibe in Cricklewood come the Sabbath. It is packed tight with the hip posse who spend Saturday night on a dance trip.

Gary:
Are we talking about the same King's Head that boasts a Boffo the Clown play area and free lemonade for the under sevens?

Ron:
We should still legislate for the unexpected. We are two caballeros off the marital leash. We could easily be propositioned by a couple of nubile ladies...

Gary:
Yeah, Ron...

Ron:
And spend the afternoon being whisked around the Surrey countryside in an open-top cabriolet, ending up with a light champagne supper in some noted West End night spot.

Gary:
Ron.

Ron:
Ah, I am armed [pulls out a condom] and we are dangerous.

Gary:
Ron, Yvonne's coming with us.

[last lines]

Reg:
Sorry to interrupt. Yvonne's 'ere.

[Gary stands up, terrified]

Phoebe:
Hello, Auntie.

Gary:
I was selfish. But from now on you're going to see a new Gary Sparrow. From now on I'm going to be strong-minded, resolute and decisive.

Ron:
So who's it going to be, Yvonne or Phoebe?

Gary:
I'm not sure.

[first lines]

Gary:
[adjusting his necktie] So, correct?

Yvonne:
Tighter. [he adjusts it] Much tighter.

Gary:
Oh, har har, Yvonne. Yes, extremely amusing joke.

Yvonne:
Who said I was joking?

Gary:
This suit OK?

Yvonne:
Yeah, the suit's OK; it's what's inside that worries me.

Gary:
Pretty good last night, wasn't I... it, uh, we?

Yvonne:
Best sex I've had since Monday.

Gary:
I wasn't here on Monday.

Yvonne:
I've got to pay the bills, Gary, now you're out of work. [pause] Marriage is a very complicated machine. When it breaks down, you can't fix it with one screw.

[first lines]

Gary:
Thought I might go into work today. You know, see how it goes. See how Ron is. Yeah, yeah, I think I'll chance it for a couple of hours.

Yvonne:
Hang the flags out!

Gary:
Come on, Yvonne, I'm looking for a bit of encouragement here; I've been ill.

Yvonne:
Yes, so you've said. Right, I'm off to work. Yes, I think I'll chance it for a couple of hours.

[last lines]

Gary:
Listen, I've been thinking. Um, about the baby. I think you're right; I think it's a good idea.

[Yvonne starts to cry]

Gary:
Yvonne! What's wrong! False alarm?

Yvonne:
Yes. It's just me being stupid and jumping the gun.

Gary:
Oh, not at all.

Yvonne:
It's what we need to be a family.

Gary:
Well, love, we've got plenty of time.

Yvonne:
Still, more fun trying again, eh.

Gary:
Yeah.

Yvonne:
What would you like, a little girl or a little boy?

Gary:
A little girl, I think.

[last lines]

Yvonne:
I've got something else to tell you.

Gary:
What?

Yvonne:
It's about the flat.

Gary:
The apartment. The one-bedroomed apartment that is suddenly too small.

Yvonne:
Yes.

Gary:
Go on.

Yvonne:
I ordered us a new three piece suite. Now, I've already paid for it; I can't get the money back. It was eight hundred and ninety-nine pounds; I'm sorry.

Gary:
Ah. It's... it's OK. Huh. No, it's OK. Like I say, as long as you're happy, I'm happy.

Yvonne:
Good. Because I'm pregnant.

Yvonne:
I'm the one that phoned the estate agent and told him we're taking the house off the market.

Gary:
Well, this is going to sound awful, I know. I mean, it is such a clich?, and you know I've never been very good with words, have I? Always had the tendency to state the blindingly obvious, but, no, I can't think of another way of phrasing it, so: Why?

[first lines]

Yvonne:
Gary, we're going to be late! Oh, you're not going like that, are you?

Gary:
Yeh. I'm going straight to the shop afterwards. Why, you're not ashamed to be seen with me like this are you?

Yvonne:
A little word.

Gary:
Starting in 'N' and ending in 'O'?

Yvonne:
Starting in 'Y' and ending in 'S'?

Gary:
What's the big deal? All we're going to do is look round the flat.

Yvonne:
Apartment!

Gary:
There's a difference?

Phoebe Sparrow:
You can stick your haunch, right up your 'ARRIS!

[last lines]

Dr. Jakowitz:
All a bit avant-garde for my liking.

[first lines]

Gary:
So, if Yvonne wants to know where I am...

Ron:
You're in Aberdeen on the verge of clinching a quarter of a million pound printing contract with Sashimi Oil PLC.

Gary:
Which means I'm going to have to fly up and down to Scotland several times this week at the drop of a hat.

Ron:
Of a tam o'shanter, you mean.

Gary:
Ron, I am outlining a business coup here that will catapult Nostradamus Printing into the first division. But only if I can convince Mr McCray to convince Mr Yakimoto that we can do a better job than the printers in Nagoya. Yeah, it's my butt on the line up there in the Grampians, but I can do it, Ron; I won't let you down.

Ron:
Gary, Gary, Gary.

Gary:
Yes, Ron, Ron, Ron?

Ron:
It's only an alibi, remember? A story to tell Yvonne. None of these people actually exist: Mr McCray, Mr Yaki-whatever you said, Sashimi Oil PLC; they're all just a product of your unnervingly fertile imagination - in short, lies.

Gary:
[pause] Technically, yes, but if there's one thing I've learnt from doing all these amateur dramatics, it's you've got to believe what you're saying is true. That is the definition of a good actor.

Ron:
It's also a pretty good definition of a psychopath.

[last lines]

Mr. Shik:
Frankly, what the Japanese got up to during the war was not cricket. But then, the Symbion Corporation is, as I am myself, Korean. Mrs Sparrow, welcome to Symbion. The job is yours.

[they all drink]

Gary:
Dare I ask you something? Why does your wife never speak?

Mr. Shik:
She doesn't understand English. She's Japanese.

Reg:
Afternoon, Mr Sparrow, long time no see. How are you then, sir?

Gary:
Fine.

Reg:
No hard feelings?

Gary:
Hard feelings? What, about the time you arrested me for drink driving, even though I had no intention whatsoever of driving, with the result that I lost my license, my job and very nearly my wife? No, no hard feelings at all.

Reg:
Good. As long as there's no hard feelings.

Ron:
He's not very good at detecting irony, is he?

Reg:
Oh, I wouldn't dream of trying detective work, sir. Not my fort? at all.

[first lines]

Gary:
Huh. Here you are, nice cup of tea.

Yvonne:
Wasn't it my turn?

Gary:
Yeah, probably, but I had to get up anyway.

Yvonne:
To go to work, you mean. Whereas I don't have a job, and I'm never likely to get a job because at the age of thirty-two my life is meaningless and futile: in short, over.

Gary:
OK, tomorrow you make the tea.

Yvonne:
I'm sorry, I didn't sleep very well; I had a rotten dream.

Gary:
Oh, the one where you're being chased by Johnny Depp and for some reason can't make yourself stop running away?

[last lines]

Ron:
Oh dear, Gary. We're in crap up to our earlobes, or to put it another way, you are. Still, at least it's a nice day for it.

[first lines]

Phoebe:
Chickens, Gary.

Gary:
Huh?

Phoebe:
And ducks and geese and pigs and cows.

Gary:
No, I've already eaten.

Reg:
And a dog called Betsy.

Gary:
No, you've lost me now.

Phoebe:
The farm, Gary. Mrs Carter sent me a letter confirming our booking.

[first lines]

Ron:
I reckon this is the worst party since Charles' and Di's tenth wedding anniversary. I mean where is everyone? Where are the faces?

Gary:
In the kitchen, of course.

[last lines]

Gary:
The landlord tripped and he fell down an open trapdoor into his cellar. He banged his head. He stopped breathing.

Yvonne:
Oh, and I suppose you gave him the kiss of life.

Gary:
Yeah! I did. Me. Gary Sparrow, television repairman. Back there, I fought for a man's life, and I won.

Yvonne:
Gary, are you winding me up?

Gary:
Can't visualize me as a hero, can you?

Yvonne:
Frankly, no. And get those dirty overalls off the duvet cover. [pause] Gary, I don't mind if you want to go out for a drink with your mates after work. You don't have to lie to me; I'm not your mother. Goodnight, Gary.

Gary:
Goodnight, Sweetheart.

[last lines]

Gary:
[to himself] I can't do this any more. I can't pretend to be somebody I'm not. No more lies, Gary.

Gary:
Phoebe, listen. I'm not who you think I am. I'm a time traveller; I live in 1996, and I've got a wife called Yvonne. [turns to see Phoebe's asleep] Phoebe?

Ron:
If on any of your time travelling excursions you come across the guy who invented lettuce, do me a favour and strangle the git, will you! Save the world from salad.

Gary:
I can manage a bowl of soup.

Yvonne:
Right. Scotch broth or Scotch broth?

Gary:
Oh no, I hate Scotch broth. It looks like something that should be on the pavement outside an Indian restaurant.

[first lines]

Yvonne:
Gary! Gary!

Gary:
Yvonne, is that you?

Yvonne:
Yes, it's me... darling. [she enters the bedroom] Oh, how's my poorly soldier, then?

Gary:
Not so bad.

Yvonne:
How do you feel?

Gary:
OK. My side doesn't ache like it did, but then my throat started hurting again, so maybe because my throat started hurting again it took my mind off my side, so I suppose we'll just have to wait till my throat stops hurting before we know if my side's stopped hurting, so fingers crossed.

Yvonne:
Absolutely. Gary, you've been here three days now; think it might help if you got up for a bit?

Gary:
Well, I don't want to rush things; I'd hate to have a relapse.

[first lines]

Gary:
The great British breakfast. Care to join me?

Yvonne:
Gary, do you know how many calories are in that?

Gary:
Yes! Well, I don't know how you can eat that stuff.

Yvonne:
Because it's full of goodness.

Gary:
It's full of sawdust by the look of it.

Yvonne:
[pouring a thick green liquid] Drink this.

Gary:
What, and turn into Mr Hyde! No thank you.

Yvonne:
Go on, drink it.

Gary:
Give me one good reason.

Yvonne:
Because it's got extract of royal jelly, guarana, ginseng, pine bark, concho, enzyme Q-10, and a base of aloe vera.

Gary:
Yeah, give me one good reason.

Yvonne:
What we gonna do, Ron?

Ron:
Yvonne, I'll tell you what we're going to do.

Yvonne:
What?

Ron:
We're going to have another drink.

Yvonne:
Drink isn't the answer; it's just a short-term solution.

Ron:
Agreed! But as far as short-term solutions go, it's up there with the best of them.

[last lines]

Phoebe:
How do we know what's going to happen in the future?

Gary:
The future's going to be great.

Phoebe:
How do you know the future's going to be great?

Gary:
Phoebe, I know everything.

Gary:
Do you want to see my sponge?

Reg:
Oh, that'd be lovely. Is it jam or chocolate?

[Gary produces a sea sponge]

Reg:
Wough, don't look very appetizing. Was that your first go at baking?

Landlord:
[after Gary Sparrow sings "Penny Lane" in wartime Liverpool] I should stick to writing songs about London if I were you, pal.

Phoebe:
It's your piano. It's out of tune

Landlord:
Call that song-writing! He's got a one-year-old at home that could write better songs than that. Isn't that right, Mr Lennon?

[first lines]

Ron:
Well, well, well, my one length swimming certificate. Hey, Gary, in 1972 I swam twenty-five yards. Never done it since, mind. Well, there's no need, is there? How many certificates do I want? So, you're leaving me too. Very poignant. First my wife ejects me from the marital home so she can more freely strump another; I move in here; your wife goes to Korea, and now you're off too. A more sensitive person might be getting quite depressed about now.

Gary:
This trip isn't my idea, I can assure you. Phoebe wants me to meet her grandmother, and as she's the only one left on her mother's side I could hardly say no.

Ron:
So now it's off to Liverpool on the train.

Gary:
Yeah, but not now. In 1942. It was cheaper back then and, interestingly enough, just as quick.

[last lines]

Ron:
A man rescued a child from a burning building, and I know that man.

Gary:
Oh yes, you know the man who did that.

Ron:
Were you there when it happened? Did you see him do what he did?

Gary:
I saw him do what he did, yes.

Ron:
Honestly?

Gary:
Ron, would I lie to a man of the cloth?

[first lines]

Yvonne:
Don't tell me; you're auditioning for a part in 'House of Eliott'.

Gary:
No. No, just popped into Wally's World of Wallpaper on the way home. I'm drawn to this one. Comes in a washable ready-pasted vinyl with a contrast frieze but you also get a matching duvet cover, pillow case and curtains.

Yvonne:
Mmm, and do they do a full range of lampshades and knick-knack boxes in the same design?

Gary:
Uh, yeah, I think so.

Yvonne:
Ah, at last, my life has a meaning.

Gary:
There's far too much emphasis placed on the physical side of marriage these days.

Yvonne:
Oh yes, of course, yeah. Wasn't like that in the war, was it?

Gary:
Well, since you raised the subject, no. People had more important things to worry about then. I mean, if the earth moved in 1940 it was usually a land mine.

[last lines]

Gary:
Just wondered if you fancied a dance.

Yvonne:
Yeah OK.

Gary:
I think you'll find this is a foxtrot.

[last lines]

Ron:
Oh...

Gary:
Bollards, Ron!

Reg:
Here's to you, Cousin James.

James T:
Here's to you, Cousin Reg.

Gary:
And let's not forget good old Daft Jack.

Niles:
Daft Jack Deadman.

[they clink glasses]

Reg:
Daft Jack.

Gary:
So why did Daft Jack go to America in the first place?

Reg:
Well, the way James tells it, it was a pure accident.

James T:
Yeah, yeah, according to Grandma, he just went down to the docks and got on the wrong boat.

Reg:
Well, where did he intend to go?

James T:
Some place called Wool-wich. You know, one things always got me about that story.

Gary:
What? How somebody could accidentally get on a boat bound for an entirely different continent?

James T:
No, why did they call him *Daft* Jack?

Reg:
I was wondering that.

[first lines]

Gary:
Ahem! [pause] Well, don't all rush.

Reg:
Gary! Guess who's here? Hold on, I'll give you a clue. Hey, Mac, what do ya say? Hmgh. What do ys know? Can I fix ya a beer? [pause] Well?

Gary:
It's hard to say; they're obviously not human.

Reg:
The Yanks are here!

Gary:
Fascinating. Anyway, if I could have a drink.

Phoebe:
Oh, Gary! I didn't see you there. How are you? You seen whose here? Ever so exciting.

Reg:
Been a real breath of fresh air, isn't it, Phoebe?

Phoebe:
Oh, I'll say, and they're good for business; I mean, it's like a little bit of Hollywood come to Bethnal Green; I mean, look at them; they're all six footers with toothpaste advert smiles.

Gary:
I see they made a big impression on you.

Ron:
[about Yvonne] Tell her no!

Gary:
I just tried. You saw the effect that didn't have. She's like something from 'Alien'; the more you go against her the stronger she gets.

[last lines]

Gary:
It's ten o'clock!

[first lines]

Gary:
Ta-dum! First sale of the day.

Ron:
Twenty quid! Twenty quid for an old newspaper!

Gary:
No, that wasn't just any old newspaper, Ron; that was the Daily Express, eighth of December 1941 - "Japs Attack USA". No, that man was buying a little piece of history. And I'm down to my last half dozen. Pity. Still, never mind. It's Malta getting its George Cross next month. That is bound to be a seller. Reckon I can make a *bomb* out of that.

Ron:
Hardly an appropriate choice of phrase, considering the bombardment which led to that plucky little island's award. What was it? A thousand raids, seven a day, the capital devastated and the population forced to live underground.

Gary:
That's right. Sell like hotcakes.

Ron:
You're a deeply caring individual, aren't you, Gary!

[last lines]

Gary:
So that's why George Formby never played the Hackney Empire. [mimicking George Formby] Hee-Hee, turned out nice again.

Yvonne:
Gary's OK. He's a workaholic; he's never at home because he's always in his shop. Frankly, I think he lives in the past.

Yvonne:
[about Stella's recent love life] Come on, we don't care what you do in your own home. Or in the park... as long as it's after closing time and you don't break the swings.

Ron:
May I say something?

Yvonne, Gary:
No!

Ron:
In order to remove the cloudiness, that wine has been filtered through the dried innards of a deceased fish.

Gary:
Really. Well, now it's being filtered through me; personally, I'd be more worried about it after that.

[first lines]

Gary:
Mm-hm. Mobile phone, Filofax, Greenpeace newsletter, oh, and condoms. Oh, yes, New Man is off to the office.

Ron:
Mock if you wish.

Gary:
Yeah, I was. And I don't need your permission, thank you; it's in lieu of rent. So, what does New Man do at lunchtime? I mean, after the T'ai Chi lesson and the tofu salad. You got time for a quick pint? Real organic ale, obviously; all the hops humanely killed.

Ron:
Sorry, thought I'd pop down to Camden Lock. Sonia's gonna do the cards.

Gary:
Your lousy at cards.

Ron:
Tarot cards.

Gary:
I bet you still lose.

[following a bump on the head, PC Deadman has just worked out who is running the dodgy petrol fraud]

Phoebe Sparrow:
Could a bang on the head make him, you know, bright?

Gary Sparrow:
That big a miracle would make this place more popular than Lourdes.

[last lines]

Gary:
Oh, by the way. If somebody asked you to print three thousand double page A5 brochures with full colour and laminated paper front and back, could you do it for that?

Ron:
Yeah, of course... if I wanted to go bankrupt. Why?

Gary:
I'll tell you later.

Yvonne:
I hope you don't make a habit of hassling Gary before eight in the morning; I normally like to eat my Muesli as God intended.

Ron:
Without sugar.

Yvonne:
Without clothes. If I have to start dressing, I'll have to start paying the window cleaner.

[first lines]

Ron:
Morning...

Gary:
Sh! What're you playing at? I left a message I wanted you to phone me.

Ron:
Yes, and instead I decided to call round in person. Profound apologies but that's the sort of ignorant git I am.

Gary:
Sorry.

Gary:
So. What you cooking for us, then?

Phoebe:
Well, um, to start there's M.I.5 soup.

Gary:
M.I.5 soup?

Phoebe:
Yeah, best you don't know what's in it.

[last lines]

Reg:
You all right, son?

Gary:
All this pain and suffering, this is from one bomb. Why weren't all these people down a shelter?

Reg:
Well, not everybody likes it down a shelter, and 'd sooner take a chance and kip in their own beds. And poor old Sid there, he was up on the roof, so he really caught a packet.

Gary:
Up on the... up on the roof! Well, what did the stupid bugger expect? What on earth is he doing up there?

Reg:
Firewatching. What you're going to be doing tomorrow night.

Gary:
Who is it?

Mrs. Bloss:
It's Mrs Bloss, Mr Sparrow.

Gary:
[to Phoebe] Landlady.

Mrs. Bloss:
There is a rule about having no ladies in your room.

Gary:
It's all right; I've already got one.

[first lines]

Gary:
Yvonne! You home?

Yvonne:
[pops open champagne] Yes! Woo!

Gary:
You're pregnant, aren't you?

Yvonne:
Thanks a lot, Gary. The one thing I wanted more than the promotion. The one thing that you could say that was guaranteed to ruin this moment, and you had to say it.

Gary:
You've been promoted.

Yvonne:
Assistant Personnel Manager.

Gary:
Well, well done. That's really good.

Yvonne:
Only not quite as good as creating a new life, is that what you meant?

Yvonne:
Macclesfield is *not* the end of the world, Gary.

Gary:
No. But they do have the same post codes.

[last lines]

Yvonne:
So tomorrow Gregory wants to see *you*.

Gary:
Oh, I'm up before the beak, am I?

Yvonne:
He wants to audition you for the part of Justin, and I think you stand a really good chance 'cause I told him I wasn't prepared to snog anyone else on stage but my husband.

Gary:
Really!

Yvonne:
Mm. So if you fancy a practice tonight...

[first lines]

Ron:
Hullo.

Gary:
Hi.

Ron:
And to what do I owe the pleasure?

Gary:
Well, it's, uh... it's a bit embarrassing, really. See, it's the end of the month on Friday, and Yvonne thinks I'm working for you, so... she's going to want to see some wages.

Ron:
Huh. What a quaint old-fashioned notion. Wages you can actually see. I know, you tell her you're working for me on a commission-only basis, and you're crap; she'll believe that.

[last lines]

Phoebe:
Poor Reg.

Gary:
Never mind poor Reg; what about me? No money, no watch, no nookie.

Phoebe:
Oh, do cheer up, Gary.

Gary:
Give me one good reason why I should.

[Phoebe pulls the watch out of her cleavage and hands it to Gary]

Gary:
On second thoughts, put it back; I'll come and get it later.

Reg:
You smell different. Is that the expensive scent that Gary gave you?

Phoebe:
No, I've just broken a jar of pickled eggs, Reg.

Reg:
Very nice.

[first lines]

Dr. Jakowitz:
And you're feeling fit in yourself?

Yvonne:
Yeah, fantastic. Never felt better

Dr. Jakowitz:
Good, good. No morning sickness?

Yvonne:
Well, it depends on what's the first thing I see when I open me eyes. If it's Gary...

Gary:
''Yvonne, whenever I put my foot down, you just kick me in the shin.''