Waiting for God

[repeated line]

Harvey Bains:
Jane, you're touching me.

[first lines]

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
Right. Before we start the wedding rehearsal there are one or two things I find a bit confusing.

Diana:
Like is it night or day.

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
These are to take place one after another.

Tom:
Well done.

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
You don't want a double wedding?

Diana:
No!

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
And the first wedding is between, um... Harvey and Tom, right?

Tom:
Almost.

Jane:
Harvey and me, Dennis.

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
Oh, good! I thought for a moment we might be getting a bit modern. The second wedding is between, um... Any volunteers?

Tom:
[holding up his and Diana's hand] Us.

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
Oh. And who are you marrying?

Diana:
Each other, you pillock! Get on with it!

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
Pillock, right. Jane, who's giving you away?

Jamie Edwards:
I am. Her grandfather.

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
And who's giving Diana away?

Jamie Edwards:
Me again. Double shift.

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
Are you Diana's grandfather as well?

Diana:
No, he's my auntie.

Jamie Edwards:
Geoffrey, did you know that you are the most boring man whole wide world?

Geoffrey:
Yes.

Diana:
I'm trying to drain the blood from my feet.

Tom:
Oh, good idea. Why?

Diana:
'Cause I spent half the night dancing with naked men.

Tom:
What did you do the other half of the night?

Diana:
Dragged Jane off naked men. You know, I think they were the first she'd ever seen. Her conversion made Saint Paul's Damascus Road number look like a housewife having a bit of a dither in Tesco's.

[last lines]

Tom:
Happy?

Diana:
You'll see how happy.

Tom:
How do you mean?

Diana:
When we get home I am going to give you the best Saturday nighting you have ever had in your life.

Tom:
Jolly good. Meanwhile, we might as well do the photos. We have paid.

[first lines]

Jane:
Morning. There. Comfy, are we?

Diana:
The word is comfortable, you simpering nelly.

Jane:
Oh, you do make a mess around you. What's this roll doing here?

Diana:
Why don't you ask it? Or don't you speak roll?

[last lines]

Diana:
You did quite well in there... for a fossilized old fruit loop. You should hang out in the real world more often.

Tom:
You think so?

Diana:
Why not? You could be a sort of late developer. Sort of Grandma - or Grandpa Moses.

Tom:
You're right. Absolutely right. And it's never too late to start. From now on I'm going to be brilliant, and famous in the real world. No more fantasies.

Diana:
Jolly good.

Tom:
I'll get on to Jimmy Stewart right away, and we'll really turn the place upside down. Come Christmas I should at least be front runner for president.

[steps out onto patio]

Tom:
My fellow Americans, think not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country!

Diana:
Dear God, if you want to prove to me that you really do exist, blow him up.

Tom:
[shouting] I have a dream! I have a dream!

Tom:
Geoffrey, how lovely to see you. I thought you were coming this morning.

Geoffrey:
We did, dad - you were out.

Tom:
Oh, of course - Washington. So sorry!

Tom:
We've been to Brighton!

Marion:
I knew it. Brighton! Seaside hotels, Mr and Mrs Smith. Filth!

Geoffrey:
They've only been a few hours.

Marion:
Oh God, not even a hotel. How could you!

Diana:
[Indicating Marion] Someone cut that woman's throat.

Marion:
And you, you're just, just... a loose tart!

Diana:
Get me a knife, I'll do it meself.

Diana:
C'mon. We are going in search of some real traffic and real people.

Tom:
Where?

Diana:
Brighton.

Tom:
Brighton? Does Brighton really exist beyond the confines of naughty postcards?

Diana:
Possibly not, but we'll go and have a look. We'll take the Porsche. I'll drive and you can run up a huge bill on my niece's car-phone.

Tom:
Brighton! Porsche. Car-phone. Goodness. [pause] I'm going to be a *guppie*!

Diana:
There is something essentially English about seaside candy floss. Its quite revolting. Goes with the grey sea and the fried food, and the appalling hopelessness of all those dead people dragging their lumpen bodies up and down waiting for the blessed relief of autumn, where they can let their brains fur over and their limbs atrophy while they crawl back into their holes and spend their winter breaking wind in front of the telly.

Tom:
Oh bloody hell...

[first lines]

Diana:
Come on, Tom, get a move on. Time and art classes wait for no man.

Tom:
I am the famous explorer, not the famous native bearer.

Diana:
Well, just count yourself lucky I don't sculpt sodding great blocks of marble. Come on.

Diana:
Will you stop that! I cannot hear my old traditional folk songs.

Tom:
I am cleaning the grouting between the tiles. Your lasagne sauce gets right into the grouting. I can't stand grubby grouting. Grubby grouting is an anathema to me. There is no place in a decent universe for grubby grouting.

Diana:
And introducing Harold Pinter on dialogue.

Jane:
Hello. How are we all?

Tom:
We are going crackers. Would you like to put some cheese on us?

Diana:
What do you want, Jane, or did you just come round to be wet?

Jane:
It's Harvey. I'm very worried about his behaviour.

Diana:
Grave-robbing again, is he?

Jane:
He seems to be under a lot of stress.

Tom:
Oh dear. Poor little treasure.

Jane:
He thinks life has passed him by.

Diana:
Oh dear, well, we must just get life not to pass him by. We must get life to back up and run him over.

Tom:
We'll never get our Yul Brynner to... change his mind.

Diana:
I don't know. I think I might try a bit of extraordinarily subtle, almost subliminal, psychology on the little creep.

Tom:
Garrotte him with a cheese wire?

Diana:
Yes.

[last lines]

Diana:
Well, that's got rid of him for a while. Funny. Exposing himself to a town councillor. Should impress the board.

Tom:
Jane is taking him to a clinic.

Diana:
Clinic? He's not pregnant, is he?

Tom:
A psychiatric clinic.

Diana:
Oh, don't be so silly. There's nothing wrong with him.

Tom:
You just don't see, do you?

Diana:
What do you mean?

Tom:
He's blown a head gasket, for goodness sake. Couldn't you see that?

Diana:
He's just a bit upset.

Tom:
He's calling for his mother!

Diana:
It's not my fault.

Tom:
And you damn well didn't help, did you!

Diana:
No-one's any fun any more.

Mr Davis:
I'm sorry.

Tom:
Not good enough. What are you going to do?

Diana:
Yes, what?

Mr Davis:
I'm retiring soon, so I can say what I like now. I've had a right noseful of you two for the last few years. Every time someone breaks wind in the wrong direction you're in here screaming about your rights and bleeding all over the carpet. Local government is to keep things running and to look after the *really* needy, not to be constantly wiping your ancient and *pampered* *botties*.

Tom:
Diana, don't kill him.

Diana:
No, Tom, I admire his courage. What exactly are you saying with these last words of yours?

Mr Davis:
You are in reasonable health; you are not poor; you are not incapable. So, apart from screaming the roof off every ten minutes, what are *you* doing for your fellow pensioners? Hm?

[first lines]

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
Well. Here we are again, wherever that is.

Diana:
Oh Lord, another fifteen minutes of relentless gibberish from God's lost messenger.

Jamie Edwards:
Maybe you and I should slip out to the local hostelry.

Jane:
Granddad!

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
Good morning, and how nice to see so many bright and cheery faces gathered round the font this glorious day for the christening of this child...

Jane:
Michaelmas Sunday.

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
Nicholas Sunday. Where is the babe?

Diana:
It's not a christening, Dennis. It's sermon number twelve, the conversion of Saint Paul on the road to Safeways.

[last lines]

Diana:
We'll teach them not to put in wheelchair ramps.

Tom:
We certainly will.

[first lines]

Diana:
Christmas is rubbish.

Tom:
I'm not listening.

Diana:
[pointing at decorated tree] Oh, look at that fairy. There are one or two fairies round here who could do with a tree up th...

Tom:
That's quite enough. You'll be arrested for obscene mumbling one of these days. You're like a mad old bag lady.

Santa:
Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas! [Diana hits him with her cane] Oh!

Tom:
That was a good shot.

Diana:
Thank you very much.

[last lines]

Tom:
If only you would believe, Diana. If only you had a little faith. If only you would relax and let it all sweep over you: the joy, the mystery, the happiness; it could all be yours. All you have to do is reach out, open your heart, and let it all flow in. What do you say?

Diana:
Open my heart?

Tom:
Join the human race.

Diana:
Let it all flow in?

Tom:
Feel the warmth.

Diana:
Tom. Come here. [he moves over] No no. Closer. I want to say something to you.

Tom:
[chuckles] Sweet nothings.

Diana:
Mmm. [yells in his ear] Merry Christmas!

Tom:
Aaagh!

[first lines]

Harvey Bains:
And so I say to you: Brothers and Sisters, rejoice! and come unto the true church. My church, The Church of the Flaming Sword, Las Vegas. I'm the only resident pastor in Bournemouth. That's pretty good, eh? And ay, you're all probably wondering why you should change church. Well, I'll tell you. Because it's free! You don't have to hand over any cash at all. Not a penny! I will simply be deducting a percentage of your wages.

Diana:
Harvey. You'll burn in Hell.

Harvey Bains:
As long as you're not there, Diana, I can take a bit of burning.

Diana:
You can stay in the guest wing with Jamie.

Tom:
In with Jamie! But he's always singing Irish songs. And breaking wind. He makes Danny Boy sound like a tuba solo.

[last lines]

Diana:
Tom!

Tom:
Yes?

Diana:
Hop in. [flips back the covers]

Tom:
Good idea. Never know what might happen at our age. Might as well get in a quick one, while we can.

Diana:
God, I love Englishmen. They really know how to seduce a woman. [turns out the light] OK. Are you sitting comfortably?

Tom:
Yes, Diana.

Diana:
Then I'll begin.

[first lines]

Jane:
Cooee! Morning, Diana, and what a lovely morning it is, too.

Diana:
It's been raining, you cretin.

Jane:
And what are we painting?

Diana:
The Sistine Chapel.

Jane:
Oh, that's in Rome.

Diana:
I've got a very long brush.

Jane:
Oh, you're so negative.

Diana:
I certainly am. If there's one thing I'm positive about it's being negative.

Doctor:
He went on to say that most of his chums had died and he wanted to be able to join them.

Jane:
Yes, we get a lot of that round here. Death seems to come in waves; one goes and the others all pop off in sympathy.

Harvey Bains:
Not that we encourage it, of course.

Jane:
Oh, no, it's not policy, is it?

[last lines]

Old Man:
Well done, God.

[first lines]

Vicar:
Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay. In the midst of life we are in death: of whom may we seek for succour, but of thee, 0 Lord, who for our sins- [Harvey's watch starts to beep]

Harvey Bains:
I have to go; it's an important meeting.

Tom:
What did he say?

Diana:
He says if he doesn't shut up and show a bit of respect, we're quite at liberty to beat him to a pulp and bung him in on top of old Sid here. Carry on.

Harvey Bains:
[whispers] I'll see you back at the ranch. Come on, Jane.

Jane:
But, Harvey.

Harvey Bains:
He's not a resident any more. Your job is with the living... and with me.

Jane:
Yes, Harvey.

[Harvey and Jane leave]

Diana:
Have you forgotten the words?

Vicar:
Certainly not.

Diana:
Well, get on with it then.

Tom:
Oh, come on, Diana, stop it; you must not blaspheme. You'll be struck by a lightning bolt. In fact, I think I'll stand over here. [he moves away] Never too sure about the old divine accuracy.

Diana:
What do you want, Jane, or did you just drop in for a bit of light simpering?

Jane:
There must be a bit of dignity and decorum, Harvey.

Harvey Bains:
Dignity is an expensive luxury, Jane, and there's certainly no profit in decorum.

Tom:
Diana, you have no soul.

Diana:
Tom, souls don't exist.

Tom:
That's only your opinion; you should keep it to yourself.

Diana:
Rubbish! It's my holy mission in life to blow raspberries at other holy missions.

Tom:
But has it ever occurred to you you might be wrong?

Diana:
Well, why should it? It never occurs to any of them.

[first lines]

Diana:
There. That should keep the mad Huns and the yellow hordes at bay, not to mention not to mention daft old goats called Tom.

Jane:
Harvey says that wall has got to go, Diana. If you do not take it down voluntarily, he will, uh...

Diana:
What? Come and huff and puff and blow my wall down?

Jane:
Invoke the structural alterations to premises without prior consultation with the management, the board and the planning committee clause in your contract of residency.

Diana:
Well, you just tell little Harvey that if just one millimetre of his smallest toenail comes across my doorstep he will be the happy recipient of a ten megaton exploding suppository.

Tom:
You shouldn't throw the bath out with the water-baby.

Basil:
Tom?

Tom:
Mmh?

Basil:
You know you're the biggest wally ever to draw breath, don't you?

Tom:
Have they put you on new pills, Basil?

Basil:
In fact, I think you may be the most stupid man I've ever met... and I was in the army for ten years.

[last lines]

Diana:
Tom.

Tom:
Yes, Diana?

Diana:
I'd like to tell you something.

Tom:
Are you sure, Diana?

Diana:
Oh, I'm sure, Tom.

Tom:
So what do you want to tell me, Diana?

Diana:
You've just trodden on my foot, you great clumsy clodhopper!

Daisy:
[drinking tea] Ah, the cup that cheers but not inebriates.

Tom:
Hnh, the sweet goo that kept the Empire stuck together.

Daisy:
Who said that?

Tom:
I did, just now.

Tom:
May I show you to your car?

Geoffrey:
Got another appointment, have you, Dad?

Tom:
No, Geoffrey, I just feel one of my... must strangle Marion fits coming on.

Marion:
Oh, you are a funny old possum, aren't you? Well, bye-bye, Tom. Oh, do leave the door open; it's awfully whiffy in here.

Tom:
[after Marion leaves] Geoffrey, there are poisons, you know, which are almost untraceable.

Tom:
Appeals to your community spirit might just as well be addressed in Urdu to an emu for all the effect they're going to have.

Diana:
Appeals to jingoistic spirits. Forming teams, the desire to inflict your views on all around you. Fascism, Tom.

Tom:
Or patriotism.

Diana:
Mmm. It's a fine line.

Tom:
Mmm, yeah.

Tom:
I'm British. As a nation, we're all a bit constipated when it comes to paying compliments.

[first lines]

Tom:
Are you on the booze again?

Diana:
Sure am, Ollie.

Tom:
What is it this time?

Diana:
Wod-ka. I've decided to drink a bottle of vodka every morning until I die.

Tom:
Which will be about next Wednesday morning.

Diana:
With a bit of luck.

Tom:
This chair is quite unnecessary.

Diana:
If I'm going to die and go to hell, I'm not bloody well walking there.

Tom:
You're letting it get out of all proportion.

Diana:
You heard what Jamie said.

Tom:
Oh, for goodness sake, he was also the man who said that Margaret Thatcher would be prime minister!

Diana:
Tom.

Tom:
What?

Diana:
Margaret Thatcher *was* prime minister.

Tom:
Oh. Yes. So she was.

Diana:
Never mind all that. Let's get to the important stuff. Booze.

Dietician:
Do you have a drink problem, Miss Trent?

Diana:
Only when pubs are shut, love.

Tom:
We've watched her diet meticulously. Then suddenly she was up and down all night, feeling wobbly, and saying she had got, um, uh... the chaffinch.

Dr. Swain:
Chaffinch?

Tom:
Well, women's waterworks thingy.

Dr. Swain:
Thrush, Mr Ballard, thrush.

[last lines]

Tom:
Doctor! I think I've killed her!

Diana:
[Diana is at her doctor's] In the immortal words of the late, great Bugs Bunny - "What's up, doc?".

Tom:
How do you feel?

Diana:
How do I look?

Tom:
Like absolute hell.

Diana:
Then I look better than I feel.

[first lines]

Diana:
Ah-ha! Here he comes. You got the ammo?

Tom:
Standing by, Number One. You don't think this is a bit childish, do you?

Diana:
He called me a sweet old thing.

Tom:
Not only patronizing but amazingly inaccurate.

Diana:
Shut your face and pass the shooter. Now, marbles or ball bearings?

Tom:
Acorns.

Diana:
Acorns! You can't take an eye out with acorns.

Tom:
Precisely.

Diana:
Thought I was the old woman round here.

Tom:
No, I'm the old woman. You're the old *bat*.

Jenny:
You're pushing your luck, aren't you, Basil? The last person Diana found in her seat got kneecapped.

Tom:
It's all right; Diana's laying waste to London today.

Basil:
Besides, she won't mind me. You see, secretly Diana has the hots for me.

Jenny:
Haven't we all, Basil.

Basil:
Yes, she just lives for the day when big, bad Baz kicks her door down and takes her screaming to the heights of animal ecstasy!

Geoffrey:
He's right, Harvey. We got Laurence over from the home care centre and he agreed Dad has severe rising damp.

Tom:
I've even bought a snorkel and flippers.

Geoffrey:
It's an unacceptable health hazard for my father, isn't it, Marion?

Marion:
Oh. Oh! Oh, absolutely. I mean, the Sandersons, who also live in the close, they had terrible damp, and it damned near killed their mother, and... And maybe we're making a bit too much of a fuss over this, Geoffrey.

Tom:
You are going to move in with me.

Diana:
Don't be ridiculous!

Tom:
I mean you're going to share with me. There are two bedrooms; I wasn't suggesting any... beastly behaviour. Except on saints' days.

[last lines]

Tom:
Should I carry you over the threshold?

Diana:
Just open the door!

Tom:
Diana Trent, this is your life.

[first lines]

Diana:
Antonio! Hi! Antonio. Vous ?tes compl?tement fou. Ce sont des fleurs, pas des weed. Vous ?tes un Portugese-o stupide-o sardine-o. Vous avez le gardening ability d'un bomb de napalm.

Diana:
[having reduced Jane to tears] That's better. Nothing like a bit of random malevolence to cheer me up.

[first lines]

Diana:
Oh, God!

Tom:
What's that?

Diana:
I just said: Oh, God.

Tom:
Ah. Oh, God.

Diana:
Mmm.

Tom:
About time of course.

Diana:
What?

Tom:
About time you appealed to the Almighty.

Diana:
Oh, God.

Tom:
He probably got *that* bit.

Diana:
I was not making an appeal to some dubious and probably fictional deity; I was merely saying: oh, God.

Tom:
Oh.

Diana:
God!

Diana:
I just don't believe in God.

Tom:
He's probably got fairly severe reservations about you, too.

Jenny:
Mr Bains asked if he could have a word with you after lunch, as representatives of the inmates... I mean the residents.

Diana:
What about?

Tom:
Probably a new economy drive. Wants to shoot one in five of us.

Jenny:
Or the Summer F?te.

Tom:
Ah, yes, the f?te worse than death.

[last lines]

Diana:
I will get you for this. If it is the last thing I ever do, I will get you for this.

Diana Trent:
When you talk to god, why do you look into the treetops? Is god a squirrel?

Diana:
I was just trying to be nice.

Betty:
Yes, very nice! Sitting there grinning like a sphincter.

Diana:
Sphinx, Betty.

Betty:
I know what I mean.

[last lines]

Tom:
How wonderful. She's becoming almost as silly as me. Welcome to second childhood. Next stop, mere oblivion.

[laughs]

[first lines]

Diana:
How are your yin and your yang?

Tom:
Yin's fine, but the old yang's a bit creaky.

Diana:
And how are your eyes?

Tom:
Oh, as good as ever. I pop them into a glass of Steradent each night; they come up nice and bright in the morning. Why do you ask?

Diana:
I was just wondering if you were adequately barking daft to do today's cryptic crossword.

Tom:
Uh, try me.

Diana:
Well, it's nine letters, uh? "I throw my weight around in North London."

Tom:
Islington.

Diana:
What?

Tom:
Islington. I sling ton. I - I, throw - sling, weight - ton, North London - Islington.

Diana:
Could be, I suppose.

Tom:
Give me another.

Diana:
No, it's all right.

Tom:
Finished it, have you?

Diana:
No, just don't want to tax you.

Tom:
Oh, don't worry, come on.

Diana:
All right. Ah! Seven letters. "Mister O'Connor is unable to reach the highest register." [pause] Hmm-hmm.

Tom:
Descant.

Diana:
What?

Tom:
Descant. Mister O'Connor - Des, is unable - can't, Des can't - descant, the highest register.

Diana:
Yes, well, it's always pathetically simple on Thursdays.

Tom:
I worked in an office for over five hundred years, Diana. The cryptic crossword was a delicate piece in the endless game of one-upmanship. If you finished it first, you were cock of the walk. But, if you were beaten to the post, then you just tossed it over your shoulder and said, "Oh, well, I wasn't really trying this morning; it's always so pathetically simple on Thursdays."

Tom:
You couldn't be nice if your life depended on it.

Diana:
Course I could.

Tom:
Oh no, to you every silver lining has a cloud.

Basil:
If I didn't know better, I'd think you were smiling.

Diana:
I *am* smiling, Basil.

Basil:
Who's died?

Diana:
Simple bit of, um, corporate fiddling; I'm sure you do it all the time.

Bill Nigh:
What! I certainly do not.

Diana:
Oh, come on. No-one would employ his dimwitted son unless they were working some sort of fiddle.

Bill Nigh:
Geoffrey is one of my best salesmen!

Tom:
Good grief! Are the other ones actually living people?

Diana:
What's wrong with my smile?

Tom Ballard:
Well, it's like a crack in the walls of hell. One can smell the sulphur and hear the cries of the damned through your smile.

[first lines]

Diana:
I will kill Harvey Bains.

Jane:
Diana!

Tom:
Look on the bright side. Rain is very good for the skin. In a couple of hours, I'll have a face like a baby's bottom.

Diana:
I'll do it slowly.

Tom:
I'm sure there must be a positive side to pneumonia.

Diana:
I'll cut off his ears first. I never liked his ears.

Jane:
The rain is not Harvey's fault.

Diana:
Yes, of course it is. Everything is Harvey's fault! Mainly the bloody Bayview bus is Harvey's fault.

Jane:
Buses break down occasionally.

Diana:
Especially when they're a hundred years old, never serviced, and driven by Portuguese gardeners who sacrifice sheep in them.

Jane:
He, he does not, Diana. You do exaggerate.

Jenny:
You're going to have to get a bigger car, Sarah.

Sarah:
My aunt would kill me. You know Diana loves stealing this car off me.

[last lines]

Diana:
Right, you lot. Now, you may think I shall be falling off my perch one day soon, and I'm sure that one day that joyous occasion may come to pass. But have no fear; let me introduce you to my great-niece, the next Diana, the new Diana, the Diana of the future, who will, I trust, carry the torch of stubborn bloody-mindedness, murder and mayhem well into the next century. I give you... Diana.

Harvey Bains:
Not another one.

Diana:
Come on then, Tom.

Tom:
OK, everybody, gather round. Come on. All right everyone.

Diana:
All right then, Geoffrey.

Tom:
Smile!

Diana:
[Baby Diana cries a bit] Shut up, Diana.

Diana:
[about Geoffrey] He thinks he's Fatboy Higgins, the last of the easy riders.

Tom:
No, no, that was just to amuse Marion.

Diana:
Ah ha ha. Not any more. He believes he's Fatboy in his own fat head. He's currently slobbing around our place looking like Marlon Brando on Valium.

Harvey Bains:
I know my gospels. Matthew, Mark, Luke and Jim.

Diana:
[answering phone] Hello. Who am I?

Tom:
I mean, I've only asked two other women to marry me and they both said yes.

Diana:
But, Tom, you've only been married once.

Tom:
I was engaged to my nanny when I was four. She broke it off. Said that the fifty year age gap would always be a problem. So we went our separate ways. She must be a hundred and thirty years old by now.

[first lines]

Diana:
Insulin level nine. Hm, appears pretty good; all systems go. Or as near to go as I'm going to get this side of the grave.

Tom:
Morning, Diana.

Diana:
Unh, you're dressed.

Tom:
Yes, I usually get dressed when I'm going out. Except for that time when I forgot and went down to the library in my pyjamas.

Diana:
Well, they were my pyjamas, actually. My baby-doll pyjamas. Still, never mind; even the magistrate thought you looked cute.

Diana:
That man is a well-known local fruitcake. He is not Stirling Moss, Alan Frost or Nigel Mansell.

Sgt. Watt:
So you say this gentleman'ss given us a false name.

Diana:
Yes. He is really Niki Lauda.

Sgt. Watt:
Who is he?

Diana:
Lauda.

Sgt. Watt:
[loudly] Who is he?

Diana:
Never mind, it was an old joke.

Diana:
What is your name?

Sgt. Watt:
Watt.

Diana:
What is your name?

Sgt. Watt:
Yes.

Diana:
Yes, what?

Sgt. Watt:
Watt is my name.

Diana:
I don't know; that's why I'm asking you.

Sgt. Watt:
My name is Sergeant Watt.

Diana:
I think I'm in a Marx Brothers movie.

Sgt. Watt:
What's his name?

Tom:
No, no, your name is Watt. My name's not Watt, eh what!

[last lines]

Diana:
What did you say, Tom?

Tom:
I said, will you marry me?

Diana:
No.

Jamie Edwards:
Ah well, so much for happy endings.

[first lines]

Jane:
Oh, Harvey! You've been out all night. I've been worried out of my mind! Called the hospitals, the police, the air-sea rescue; where have you been?

Harvey Bains:
Hunt Ball.

Jane:
To what?

Harvey Bains:
Been to the Hunt Ball with the posh people, Jane.

Jane:
What's that on your face? Oh my God, it's lipstick! You were attacked. [trying to rub it off] Here.

Harvey Bains:
No, no, ju, ju, get off, Jane. I never intend to wash this spot again. [he walks off]

Jane:
It must have been a woman!

Harvey Bains:
[to Basil] Sit. And stay. If you don't stop harassing the female residents, I'll take you down to the vet, and I'll have you *done*.

Tom:
You're foreign, aren't you?

Lucy Maitland:
What?

Tom:
And your work permit has run out. And the police are after you, and that's why you want to marry an Englishman.

Lucy Maitland:
My family's been living in this area since the Norman Conquest, 1066.

Tom:
Nine hundred years without a work permit! I know all about you Normans, coming over here and taking jobs from hard-working Anglo-Saxons. Oh, why couldn't he have met a healthy Essex girl? Oh, shame and ruin on our family!

Lucy Maitland:
Is he all right?

Diana:
Not for a second.

[last lines]

Harvey Bains:
I'm just going for a walk in the lake.

Diana:
Oh, what a wonderful day!

Harvey Bains:
Jane, you're touching me.

Jane:
I know, Harvey. From now on I'll be touching you all the time.

[first lines]

Harvey Baines:
Hello. How lovely to meet you. Now it's Mr and Mrs Brent, isn't it.

Jane:
Kent, Harvey.

Harvey Baines:
Oh, you're from Kent, are you?

Mr. Kent:
No, our name is Kent.

Harvey Baines:
And you're from Brent.

Mrs. Kent:
No. We're from Gwent.

Harvey Baines:
Jane, these aren't the Brents from Kent; these are the Kents from Gwent.

Jane:
Yes, Harvey.

Harvey Baines:
Well, try and get it right, will you?

Jane:
Sorry, Harvey.

Harvey Baines:
And this must be Granny Kent.

Geoffrey:
I just came in and you were making enough noise to raise the dead. Believe me I know about raising the dead; I'm married to Marion.

Tom:
So where's Marion? Or doesn't she give a fig how we are getting on?

Geoffrey:
She at her analyst.

Diana:
Mm, how long's she been going there?

Geoffrey:
Twenty-seven years.

Diana:
Any advances in that time?

Geoffrey:
Yes, we've landed on the moon... invented the microchip.

Diana:
[to Jane] Why do you always look like a bit of limp celery?

Jane:
Hello, Diana. And how are you, Tom? Coping with living in, uh... thingy?

Tom:
Thingy?

Jane:
Sin.

Tom:
Sin?

Jane:
I'm sorry, but that's what it is. I know everybody else thinks it's all very sweet and nice, but to me you're not M-A-R-R-E-D.

Diana:
We're not marred?

Jane:
Married!

Diana:
Illiterate celery, no less.

[last lines]

Tom:
I'm your landlord. Another word out of you and I'll have you evicted. Ow! Ah. No! Ah.

[first lines]

Diana:
Ah ha.

Jane:
Diana!

Diana:
Oh. Damn it, Jane!

Jane:
You were shooting at a squirrel.

Diana:
I was not.

Jane:
Well, what's that? It's a catapult and acorns.

Diana:
So? Squirrels eat acorns. I was passing them one.

Jane:
You're a fibber.

Diana:
Well. Lying's the only exercise I get round here.

Tom:
I just want to know where I'll be should push comes to shove.

Basil:
Flat on your back, knowing Diana.

Tom:
It's my place; I pay all the bills; I must have some rights.

Basil:
Not any more. She's your common wife now.

Tom:
Common law wife, I think you mean.

Basil:
I know what I mean. Dreadful screaming, banshee woman.

Tom:
Ha. What's she done now? Been writing health warnings on your condoms again?

[last lines]

[Baby Diana starts crying]

Diana:
All right, my precious. Nanny's coming.

[first lines]

Diana:
Will you two old lizards get on with it! I'm freezing to death.

Tom:
Basil said there's a vulture in the tree.

Diana:
There is no vulture in the tree, Tom; get on with it.

Tom:
Basil!

Basil:
What?

Tom:
You were distracting me so that you could move your ball! You were doing a Diana!

Basil:
I didn't more it. The earth suddenly tilted on its axis; that's what moved it.

Tom:
The earth *moved*?

Basil:
Yes, happens all the time when I'm around. Ask Doris Biggert. [laughs]

Diana:
You are a filthy little ferret, Basil.

Basil:
Ooh, thank you, Diana. I try my best.

Tom:
Jane Fondue has just invited us round for a cheese fonda.

Tom:
Oh dear, I sense an imminent plunge into the awful abyss they call reality.

[last lines]

Diana:
Let me out!

[first lines]

Harvey Bains:
Don't just stand there, you idle baggage; open the door. Out of the way. [gesturing towards car] There you are, Jane. Isn't it beautiful? It's the most beautiful thing in my life.

Jane:
Oh. Very beautiful, Harvey.

Harvey Bains:
I'll *be* someone now, Jane. I'll be a young man going places.

Jane:
It's very nice, Harvey.

Harvey Bains:
[yells] Don't touch the car.

Jane:
Sorry.

Harvey Bains:
Fingerprints. You know. They attract dust. Cause a wind barrier. Drop the speed.

Jane:
Sorry.

Harvey Bains:
Well, don't hang around, Jane. About your business. The builders'll be here soon; you'd better go and warn the inmates. Especially the incredibly bloody-minded ones called Diana Trent and Tom Ballard.

Jane:
Yes, Harvey.

Harvey Bains:
Listen, tell Diana to stop banging the tortoise around the croquet lawn. [wiping the car] You're so beautiful.

Tom:
The Orient Express, I haven't been on that for years. The last time I was on the Orient Express, there was a murder.

Diana:
Really?

Tom:
Everyone took it in turn to stab this poor little Belgian. I was there with Ingrid Bergman at the time; I had just had a little tiff with Greta Garbo.

Marion:
Oh, my God! They're doing it again. In the afternoon!

Tom:
Hasn't she ever heard of matinees, Geoffrey?

Geoffrey:
Only at the cinema, Dad.

Diana:
That should make the usherettes drop their torches.

Marion:
Let's go, Geoffrey. I need something for my migraine.

Diana:
Try cutting your head off.

[last lines]

Harvey Bains:
Is there anything perhaps I could do for you, Diana?

Diana:
Oh, Harvey, how kind. Well, I was thinking of just a small holiday. Little train trip, with a friend. First class.

Tom:
Woo-woo! Woo-woo! Choo choo choo choo, choo choo choo...

[first lines]

Basil:
You may laugh, you may jeer, but it's true. A prostate op can work wonders for your sex life- [he is drowned out by jeers] No, really! I wake up every morning with all the hard work already done, raring to go.

Jane:
Oh. So tasteless!

Basil:
You ask Dave Cartwright. After his prostate, he thought it was Christmas every day. [laughs] You ask Dave.

Tom:
Basil, we can't ask Dave Cartwright; this is Dave's wake!

Basil:
Ooh, so it is. Good old Dave. I bet they had a job to get his lid down.

[the residents are dancing a conga across the lawn]

Jane:
Oh dear, they're going to end up all over the town again.

Diana:
At least they've got all their clothes on this time.

Tom:
It was your idea, Diana. I came back and found you in my bed, so I went to sleep in the armchair, where you woke me up and delivered me a long carpe diem lecture: "We have only got a few happy times in our lives, and we've got to grab them by both hands." So you did. My eyeballs nearly popped out!

Basil:
I haven't scored all day!

Tom:
I'm sorry.

Basil:
And I've got five dozen condoms with a use-by date of next Wednesday. I, I, I really don't want to have to chuck half of them away.

[last lines]

Diana:
I like to be known as a person in my own right. Already had to clout Basil for referring to me as 'Tom Ballard's bit of crumpet'. And just shut up about it, all right?

Tom:
And, um, uh, the future, mm?

Diana:
Forget about that, too.

Tom:
You can't be serious!

Diana:
Well... maybe saints' days and other religious holidays.

Tom:
But you don't belong to any religion.

Diana:
I guess that's just the breaks, kid.

Tom:
Oh... Oh, well. It was nice while it lasted. [picks up bottle] Another cup of gin, Diana?

Diana:
Good idea. [pause] Tom?

Tom:
Yeah?

Diana:
What's the date?

Tom:
Umm... the seventeenth.

Diana:
Seventeenth. Oh, isn't that the Feast of Saint Kermit and All Frogs?

Tom:
Oh. Oh, well, um, I don't know, uh... Oh! I see. Oh. Jolly good. [laughs] And isn't tomorrow the Feast of Saint Donald of All Ducks?

Diana:
I'll decide the calendar 'round here

Tom:
That's a bit unfair.

Diana:
Take it or leave it.

Tom:
I'll have to think about it. OK, I've thought about it. Here's to Saint Kermit.

Diana:
Saint Kermit.

[first lines]

Tom:
It's a bit like Bayview. Even got its own Idiot Bains now.

Jane:
Under the circumstances, I don't think that's a very nice thing to say, Tom.

Tom:
Just a bit of stress, Jane. He'll be out soon.

Jane:
Just whatever you do, don't mention Diana.

Tom:
Uh, yes.

Jane:
Harvey, I'm touching you. [Harvey smiles] Oh, you usually tell me not to touch you.

Harvey Bains:
No, it's all right, Jane. Doesn't matter. You can crawl all over me if you like. You see, I'm not really here.

Tom:
Ooh, I know that feeling. Where are you? Up Everest? Banged up in Colditz? Don't you worry; we're tunnelling out on Wednesday.

Jane:
Tom, we're trying to get him back to reality, not further away.

Tom:
[Diana is packing some boxes] Getting rid of your old junk?

Diana:
No, you're still here.

Diana:
I can't blame the old trouts for turning agin me. I was yelling at them from a different planet. Looks like they never heard a word.

Tom:
No, you're wrong. They heard every word.

Diana:
No, I don't think so.

Tom:
Yes, it was just that they didn't understand. All they needed was a translator. Someone who could explain the weasel under the sideboard.

Diana:
You've been playing with that Harold Pinter again, haven't you?

[last lines]

Diana:
Excuse me, Tom, if you knew all this, why did you make me apologize?

Tom:
I thought it might be good for your soul. And God bet me I couldn't make you do it. I won a 'Get Out of Purgatory Free' card.

Diana:
He's done both of us. I will never forgive him.

Harvey Bains:
I'm with you there, Diana.

Tom:
I don't believe it! A miracle! You both agree on something! [laughs]

[first lines]

Inger:
[leading and aerobics class] And one, and two, and three, and four. And down.

Tom:
We'll have her swimming the channel next.

Basil:
Very good for me.

Tom:
How come?

Basil:
This bum. I'm committing it to memory so I can conjure it up on cold winter evenings.

[last lines]

Tom:
You were trying to trick me!

Diana:
I was trying to talk sense into your fat head and now you betray me! I am never going to talk to you again!

Tom:
And that'll be too soon. Ow!

Jane:
Oh, isn't that nice? Everything back to normal again.

Diana:
Pig bum!

[first lines]

Tom:
You okay?

Diana:
No, got indigestion. It was last night's chicken. It had hunched shoulders. Probably vulture. [she grimaces, then burps] That's better.

Tom:
Do you see circumstances in which mercy killing would be a valid course of action?

Diana:
Yes.

Tom:
Yes.

Diana:
Yes.

Tom:
I'd like a clear answer on this.

Diana:
Yes. Y-E-S. The opposite to no. The affirmative. I think it is a very good idea.

Diana:
I see.

Diana:
Where're you going?

Tom:
To change my room.

Tom:
This is where they brought me when my old ticker blew a fuse. It's awful in that room.

Harvey Bains:
She's not in that room, Tom. She's having a GCSE.

Jane:
ECG, Harvey. Electrocardiogram.

[last lines]

Diana:
Well?

Tom:
Oh, yes. I meant that. I do love you.

Diana:
Hm!

Tom:
It's only Monday, and her metaphors are already wildly out of control.

[first lines]

Tom:
[wincing and shifting in his seat] Ooooo-oo!

Diana:
What on earth's the matter?

Tom:
Wind! Been at me all night. It must be yesterday's dead dog stew. [winces again] Ay-oh, aah. That's better. Must have done a U turn.

Diana:
Thank God for that!

Tom:
Well, better an empty house than a bad tenant.

Diana:
Well, just don't do your evicting in here.

Diana:
[reading junk mail] "Dear Miss Trent" How do they know my name?

Tom:
Probably they looked at the envelope.

Tom:
You must realize that in the great swimming pool of life Harvey Bains is permanently at the shallow end.

Jane:
Harvey is a man of great depth.

Tom:
He has about as much depth as a puddle in a drought. His ideal woman is something that looks good with his car, something that will prop up his well-justified lack of self-esteem. A glamorized, sexy doxy, that's what he wants. A beauty queen.

Jane:
A beauty queen?

Tom:
Yes, he's certainly not going to be interested in someone who looks like a leftover from a jumble sale.

Jane:
Admittedly, as a younger woman, my romantic life was confined to rather stilted letters between me and my Canadian pen-pal, Mister Chigatchgou.

Diana:
Mister Chigatchgou?

Jane:
He was Eskimo.

Diana:
Oh, an Inuit.

Jane:
No, he was very bright.

Tom:
Ah, generosity. [chuckles] The most subtle revenge. The Bible is right. Love your enemies. [chuckles] Drives 'em insane.

[last lines]

Tom:
I give up; I really do. To hell with honesty. Here's to the devious; long may they reign.

Diana:
I'll drink to that.

Tom:
You may mock, but just remember mighty oaks come from little crab-apples.

Tom:
Well, you can't make an omelet without cracking a few heads.

[first lines]

Tom:
What a lovely day. Heart's ticking over like an excellent motor; lungs easing in and out like contented bellows; prostate doing what a prostate oughta do. In fact: [sings] I'm as corny as Kansas in August/ High as a flag on the fourth of July / And if you'll excuse the expression I use / I'm in love with a wonderful guy!

[Diana looks at him]

Tom:
Uh, that's the song. I'm not really in love with a wonderful guy.

Diana:
Oh, go on, be the oldest man to come out of the closet; give us all a chance to be positive and supportive and all those other wonderfully politically correct thingummies.

Tom:
Thought you didn't like political correctness.

Diana:
Oh, no, no, I think it's a wonderful fad. Probably not as spiritually uplifting as the hula hoop but undoubtedly better for the health.

Tom:
One day the thought police will get you, Diana.

Diana:
Oh yes, and I will be clubbed to the cold stone floor still proclaiming my right to be as tasteless and offensive and politically incorrect as I ever was and ever will be, amen.

Harvey Bains:
Mr Nakamura says that in Japan when they want a bit more space they just roll up their beds.

Jane:
Futons.

Harvey Bains:
No, it's true.

[last lines]

Diana:
Well, thank God for the mad burghers of Brussels.

Tom:
Why are they mad?

Diana:
Well, the great crested newt is only rare in Europe; in England, we've got millions of the little sods. But nowadays it's the same law for everyone. Damn silly, but worth exploiting if you can.

Tom:
You're such a wicked old tart.

Diana:
I am. And speaking of newts, why don't we go and indulge in one of their favourite pastimes?

Tom:
What's that?

Diana:
I'll give you a clue: mine's a double.

Tom:
Hah! Double hernias. That sounds fun. Taxi!

Marion:
Come on, Geoffrey, take me home to bed.

Harvey Bains:
Marion, I am not Geoffrey.

Marion:
Never mind, you'll do.

Tom:
You are a hateful and despicable person and I hate and despic you.

[first lines]

Diana:
Oh! Oh! Ohh! Will you look at that! Now that's very interesting.

Jane:
What is in it?

Diana:
Mind your own business.

Jane:
Is it another missive from those Age Concern people?

Diana:
Yes.

Jane:
I've been meaning to talk to you about them.

Diana:
Oh, really?

Jane:
It's Harvey's blood pressure, you see.

Diana:
Harvey doesn't have blood in his veins, Jane. He runs on oil.

Jane:
He's a very sensitive person.

Diana:
Jane.

Jane:
And the more you provoke him, the greater strain you put on his delicate heart.

Diana:
Oh, I think I'm going to be sick.

Jane:
You- You just don't realize that within that simple exterior there hides the soul of a poet.

Diana:
Ooo-ugh [mimes vomiting]

Jane:
Yes, he, he is still a mortal man. If you prick him, does he not bleed?

Diana:
No, he does not. He squirts pure multi-grade.

Jane:
Oh, Dia...

Jane:
Oh, do shut up, Jane. I, in conjunction with these very splendid people, am going to pull this place into the twentieth century if it kills me. Or better yet if it kills Harvey Bains.

Harvey Bains:
They'll fire me, you know. The doctors who run this place. They know the value of money, and they don't want it frittered away on senseless health care nonsense.

Diana:
Marriage, what a weird concept. Two people meet, spark off an emotional explosion which is probably the most intense feeling they will ever have in their entire lives; they rush off to a church, swear they will keep it up forever; then, when the steam of lust has cleared and they see each other's blackheads and nasal hair with pustular clarity... they realize they are joined at the legal hip and are condemned to years of sullen compromise, bitterness, despair, depression, futility, and... only if they're lucky, the release of an early death.

Tom:
I never realized it was such fun.

Diana:
[laughing] Well, I speak, of course, from the lofty point of total ignorance of the state.

[last lines]

Tom:
It's the all clear! Brings back old memories. I was at Biggin Hill.

Diana:
[mutters] I know.

Tom:
Had a prang and lost both my legs; then was shot down by the Hun and they had to drop in a pair of tin legs. [starts walking stiff-legged] Oh-hey!

Diana:
That is very tasteless, Tom.

Tom:
Is it? Oh good. I've always wanted to be tasteless.

Diana:
You're not a reasonable man, Harvey; you're a dreadful little crook. If it wasn't for me this place would be run like Wormwood Scrubs. But without the sense of freedom.

Tom Ballard:
Why do you always have to disagree with me?

Diana Trent:
One should always disagree with everyone about everything on principle. Conflict is what keeps you alive.

Tom Ballard:
But what for?

Tom Ballard:
Why, to disagree with people. I've just said that. Don't you ever listen to me?

Tom Ballard:
You disagree with people to keep alive to disagree with people.

Diana Trent:
Yes.

Tom Ballard:
Having a conversation with you is like jumping off a cliff. However exhilarating it is to start with, you know there's going to come a time when you are really going to regret it.

[first lines]

Diana:
[reading brochure] Play now, pay later; join the eighteen to thirty club.

Tom:
Oh, just the ticket.

Diana:
Don't be so silly, Tom. For you they'd need a seventy to dead club.

Tom:
What a terrible idea!

Diana:
Money back if you conk out before take-off; all windsurfers equipped with walking frames; complimentary oxygen in every room.

Tom:
That's enough, Diana.

Diana:
You know, you and I ought to go to some of these resorts; parade naked up and down the beaches with placards saying: "Hello, young people, we are your future.

Tom:
That is quite appalling.

Harvey Bains:
We don't often get a chance, you know, interface on a one to one basis.

Diana:
Interface?

Harvey Bains:
Communicate, interrelate.

Diana:
Oh, you mean talk to each other.

Harvey Bains:
I couldn't have put it better myself.

Diana:
So you've just proved.

Tom:
Stop going on about me. This caring attitude doesn't suit you. Just tell me what the hell is going on or, or I'll, I'll... I'll drag you into that bed with me.

[Diana just stares at him]

Tom:
Well?

Diana:
My lips are sealed.

[last lines]

Diana:
You dirty old man!

Tom:
No, no, you don't understand.

Diana:
Oh, I think I do. You bloody old fool.

[first lines]

Dr. Henry:
Right, Mr. Ballard. What we have here is a classic prostate problem. It's swollen, I'm afraid.

Tom:
Why?

Dr. Henry:
Well, it just is, I'm afraid. These things happen to the elderly.

Diana:
Why?

Dr. Henry:
Sorry?

Diana:
We both asked "Why?" Why do prostates swell up? If you could just stop writing your novel against the clock there and give us an explanation, we'd be ever so grateful.

Marion:
Is it that thing where you carry your bowels round in a handbag?

Diana:
You shut up or you'll be carrying your head around in a handbag.

Marion:
He smells bad enough as it is.

Diana:
He does not smell, Marion.

Marion:
Well, I don't suppose you'd notice. It's all relative, of course, and some relatives smell like camels.

Jenny:
You're early, boys. Mr. Kwok's still chasing lunch round the kennel.

Diana:
Tell me what Mack the Knife said.

Tom:
It's too depressing. It's all over.

Diana:
Well, what did he say?

Tom:
He said they'd have to cut 'em off.

Diana:
What?

Tom:
The twin sources of the tribe of Ballard.

Diana:
Oh, bollocks!

Tom:
Precisely.

[last lines]

Tom:
Your way often works. You get things done. But, is it right? Or would you get just as much done if you worked with the heart rather than with the spleen?

Diana:
I don't know. It's your boring lecture.

Tom:
That's the point. I don't know either. I don't know whether you are awful or wonderful.

Diana:
Does it matter?

Tom:
No, not at all. Because, whether you are wonderfully awful or awfully wonderful, right or wrong, I am sure only of one thing: I love you very much.

[first lines]

Diana:
Hoy! Listen, you Portuguese pillock. ?coutez, pillockee Portugaisee. Ce sont les wrong bulb pour cette time de l'ann?e. Ce sont les daffodil. Les dill de daffo. You should be planting les autumn bulbs now.

[Antonio walks off, muttering in Portuguese]

Diana:
Ce n'est pas n?cessaire to go off dans un huff.

Diana:
I would go so far as to say this is wicked! And if you knew me, you'd know that's a very strong accusation.

Anna Saville:
Oh dear, and she seemed so nice.

Diana:
Yes; well, they said the same thing about Mr Borgia's little girl.

Harvey Bains:
Jane, quieten them for me, would you?

Jane:
I don't scream any more, Harvey. Not since I'm engaged.

Harvey Bains:
Jenny. Jenny,

Jenny:
[is a Southern US drawl] Hush up y'all, honey chile. The boss-man done come down from the big house. Wanna lay the white man's song and dance on you-all, so listen up. [in her normal accent] You can talk now, Harvey.

Tom:
Here it comes. Another cut in the catering budget; rabbit replaced by rat.

Basil:
Well, I thought we were already on to rat. It says on the menu: Ratatouille.

[last lines]

Diana:
Now, I have something to say to the elderly everywhere. Listen, you lot. Now, this isn't TV, this is real life; I am talking to you personally, so pin 'em back and listen up. We, the elderly, my contemporaries, we had all our years of morality and decent behaviour formed in a different time on a different planet, before and during the War, in the nice old fifties when we warmed our feet at coal fires and listened to friendly folk on the Bakelite radios. Well, wake up, my old parrots. Because we have bred a race of bloody little monsters who are so lacking in any form of recognizable moral standards and so consumed with greed and material lusts that they'll chop you up and microwave you as soon as look at you. You just learn one thing today: the paths of justice and legality rarely run parallel. So never sign anything, hmph. I don't care it it comes from your favourite grandchild or a bearded bloke lugging a wooden cross through your living room; never sign anything, until you have had it checked by Messrs Shunky and Shyster, your friendly local solicitors. Or I personally will come round and set fire to your perms. You know that, hm? Don't sign!

Dave Preston:
Ah, Mr Ballard, do you have anything to add to that?

Tom:
I certainly do. As well as never signing funny forms, I would also add that you should never climb Everest after a heavy lunch. A chair under the stroboscope, with a glass of port and a good Trollope. That is the nineteenth century writer Anthony Trollope, not Miss Lola Montezuma of Boney Lane, and- argh...

[first lines]

Diana:
[tries on a hat] Oh, no. [throws had aside, tries another] No. [throws that hat aside] Ah! Why do I get new hats for funerals? Not as if the poor sod they're throwing it for's going to give a damn what I'm wearing. [tries another hat] Huh! God, what a sight. Mutton dressed as lizard. I'm the one who should be in the coffin.

Diana:
Jane thinks we should be miserable because we are going to a funeral.

Tom:
Oh, I don't know; at least it's a day out, and you know what they say: better to stand looking into a grave than lying in a grave looking out.

[last lines]

Tom:
Geoffrey, how's it going? What news of the anti-depressions crusade?

Geoffrey:
Oh, it's going really well.

Tom:
Good!

Geoffrey:
Yes, Marian sounded most cheerful. When I last spoke to her.

Diana:
When you last spoke to her?

Geoffrey:
Yes, when I last spoke to her. At her spiritual retreat.

Tom:
Where's that?

Geoffrey:
In Wales, where she is staying with the Reverend Dennis bloody Sparrow!

Diana:
Golly gee whillikers.

Tom:
But. Oh, come along, Geoffrey. The man's a vicar; he's only ministering to her inner turmoil.

Geoffrey:
That's why when she rang me she was laughing and screaming and gasping, and I could hear a drunken vicar singing rude songs in the background. My wife has run off with a vicar and it's all your fault! [to Diana] And yours. [he stalks off]

Tom:
This is terrible!

Diana:
Most alarming!

Tom:
A man of the cloth!

Diana:
Quite outrageous!

[they both start laughing uproariously]

Tom:
Oh, do stop laughing!

Diana:
Naughty songs!

Tom:
The poor boy.

Tom:
I want you to save my daughter-in-law.

Diana:
Oh, my God!

Tom:
She's lost her way as a wife and a mother.

Diana:
She's lost her way as a lush and a tart.

Tom:
She needs someone to take her by the hand.

Diana:
Or by the throat.

Rev. Dennis Sparrow:
[about Marion] Where would I find her?

Diana:
Probably on her back in the off-license.

[first lines]

Diana:
Come on! There's nothing to worry about. We just go up and down the coast taking shots of all the fancy houses, then blow 'em up and flog 'em to the owners. No-one can resist an aerial shot of their own house.

Tom:
What do you need me for?

Diana:
You're *my* assistant.

Tom:
I don't want to go up in a helicopter.

Diana:
For goodness sake, go and have a cold shower or recite your logarithms or something. I don't know what's got into you!

Tom:
I am a man, you know.

Diana:
Not around here you're not. You're a pensioner. You're supposed to be dead from the neck up, and extra dead from the waist down.

[last lines]

Tom:
You don't care what happens to me.

Diana:
I care for you as much as you care for me.

Tom:
How much is that?

Diana:
Bugger-all!

Tom:
Capital. Drop dead!

Diana:
And you!

Tom:
Good night!

Diana:
Good night!

Diana:
[both get up and start for their rooms] Fancy a cup of gin?

Tom:
Good idea.

[Tom and Diana are discussing sex]

Tom:
Just as I thought, you're all talk and no action.

Diana:
When it comes to sex, everyone around here is all talk and no action.

Tom:
What about Harry Figgis and Mary Hawkins?

Diana:
Good grief! They're not...?

Tom:
You should take your earplugs out one night. I thought a pack of wolves was upon us last Wednesday night.

Diana:
Well, she's no better than she ought to be.

Tom:
Apparently, she's a lot better than she ought to be.

Tom:
[looking at an aerial photograph] Two people dressed in pink, having a fight. [Diana hands him a magnifying glass] Oh, ah, goodness, ah. Two people, still in the pink, but definitely not fighting.

Diana:
Knotting and gendering like toads in a cistern.

Jane:
Mr Ferguson was *really* impressed by you. He said that if he could get someone like you on his side he could wrap up the elderly vote for the entire ward.

Diana:
Really?

Jane:
Yes. He said you had the natural cynicism and loathing for your fellow man that was the true hallmark of any first-rate politician.

Tom:
The place is a bargain, and a bargain ignites a primeval fire in Marion's loins. Apparently she could only achieve orgasm during the Harrods' sales.

[first lines]

Harvey Bains:
Come along, folk; panto time.

Female Resident:
Panto time? It's July.

Harvey Bains:
Be December by the time you get there.

Diana:
And the runners are all lined up. They are under starter's orders for this year's Derby.

Tom:
Diana, you really are unspeakable!

Diana:
Well, that's my job: Diana Trent, unspeakable swine, by appointment.

Tom:
You shouldn't mock the afflicted.

Diana:
Yes, of course you should. They can't fight back. You're onto a winning ticket mocking the afflicted. [yells] Come on, Millie, cut him off at the corner.

Tom:
You can't tempt fate like that, you know. It'll get *you* in the end.

Diana:
Oh, not a chance. The day I lay hand to walking frame will be the day I pull the plug on myself.

Marion:
It's Diana. She's had a fall.

Tom:
How is she?

Marion:
Swearing the place down.

Tom:
Thank God, she's all right.

Tom:
[entering Diana's hospital room] What happened?

Jane:
She slipped and fell on her hip. She was trying to throw a brick at the gardener.

Tom:
How did you find her?

Jane:
Well, she was very, uh... vocal. The people in the next village complained.

Diana:
Tom, will you tell this Celtic dimwit that I do not want a new hip. Hip replacements are for the old and the infirm.

Tom:
She says she thanks you very much and would love a new hip and... will you vent her spleen while you're at it?

David Davis:
My pleasure.

[last lines]

Diana Trent:
Oh, get on with it!

Diana:
Love isn't a quantifiable or definable product. It's a... well, it's like a sort of elephant, sitting in the corner of your sitting-room. You can't ignore it, but if you don't do something about it, you're going to find yourself knee-deep in elephant poo.

[first lines]

Diana:
Oh, look at this, Antonio. Your bulbs are upside down, you fool. Votre fleurs sont... What is the French for 'upside down'? Quel est le fran?ais pour 'upside down'?

Jane:
He's Portuguese, Diana.

Diana:
I do not speak Portuguese, Jane. Will you please not confuse the issue. Bad enough trying to communicate with this sardine-sucking incompetent without you flapping around like a bat on heat. Look, upside down-o. What are you trying to do, make them pop up in Sydney?

[she throws the bulb at Antonio]

Antonio:
Doh.

[he stalks off]

Diana:
Dear God, how did Vasco da Gama ever make it home?

Jane:
Mr Bains did ask you not to throw things at the staff. It's very bad for morale if the people they're trying to care for keep attacking them.

Daisy:
Oh I say, aren't you being rather frightful?

Diana:
I beg your pardon?

Daisy:
You do seem to me to be the most *extraordinarily* offensive person.

Diana:
Oh. Thank you very much.

Tom:
I don't mean the Humpty-Dumpty, inkly-pinky, parlez-vous, whoops golly, who's for tennis bit.

Diana:
You mean sex?

Tom:
Oh, Diana, there's no point in having a language which encourages the use of... complex euphemisms, if you come charging along using words like, um, what you just said.

[last lines]

Tom:
Ah, Daisy, what can I do for you?

Daisy:
You can put on your hat; you can take my arm, and we shall go for a stroll.

Tom:
Oh, uh. Oh! Um, mm, yes, why not? Jolly good idea, just what a chap needs. It gets awfully stuffy and confused in here. Mm-hm, off we go.

Daisy:
We shall go down to the lake. I've got a few plans for shaking things up around here.

Tom:
Jolly good.

Daisy:
Tell me, do you have any organisational abilities?

Tom:
I have organised three Arctic expeditions.

Daisy:
Splendid. We'll make a grand team. [they head off]

Diana:
Tom?

Harvey Bains:
God, Jane, I thought I was stupid until I met you.

Jane:
Oh, you are, Harvey.

Diana:
Just go away or I'll kill you, Harvey.

Tom:
Have you ever thought of cheese wire round the neck?

Marion:
What did he say?

Geoffrey:
He's talking about garrotting you, dear.

Diana:
If you would like to place your head upon the floor, I will endeavour to kick it clean off your shoulders.

[first lines]

Basil:
[singing] I joined the army yesterday, so the army of today's all right.

Tom:
Pom, pom, pom. What ho, Baz. Waiting for Miss Right?

Basil:
God forbid. Miss Wrong's much more fun. [Tom laughs] Actually, I'm waiting for the postman.

Tom:
Oh, he comes in a van these days.

Basil:
Oh.

Tom:
Got sick of Diana ambushing him. Expecting something are you?

Basil:
The word from Cubby Cabbage.

Tom:
Who?

Basil:
Fellow that makes the Bond films

Tom:
Broccoli!

Basil:
Bless you!

Tom:
At last, at last. Fame and fortune.

Basil:
And fighting off the chicks!

Tom:
Limousines and fancy restaurants.

Basil:
And fighting off the chicks!

Tom:
Oscars, Baftas and poofters.

Basil:
And *not* fighting off the chicks!

[last lines]

Tom:
[laughing] Well, that was fun.

Diana:
[laughing] It certainly was.

[Mr Kwok walks by carrying a dog across his shoulders]

Diana:
Reality's leaking again.

[first lines]

Harvey Bains:
What! [there is a knock on the door] Come in.

Jane:
You wanted to see me, Harvey?

Harvey Bains:
I do indeed, Jane. In fact, I must say it is a positive delight to see you looking so wonderful.

Jane:
Oh.

Harvey Bains:
Sit down. You, Jane, are my strong right arm.

Jane:
And your permanent right arm since the Residents' Committee insisted on it.

Harvey Bains:
Yes. And isn't it wonderful to have such a clever Residents' Committee. All those charming old people being able to use the wisdom of their years to tell me how to run this place, even if I do have all those *weeks* of management training behind me.

Tom:
Well, I couldn't wait to retire...

Diana Trent:
Yes well that the difference isn't it. Some people want to retire other people don't, think the system could geared to accommodate both.

[last lines]

Harvey Bains:
[jogging] And it's Harvey Bains, six times winner of the decathlon. And he breaks through the pain barrier! Stuns this crowd with an amazing show of stamina and real hairy male virility.

Mr. Kwok:
I know! This ancient eastern art. You can't tell me how to suck grandmother's eggs.

[last lines]

Tom:
Diana!

Diana:
Mmm?

Tom:
What about your American friend, Hal? How did she know about him?

Diana:
Oh, him. Huh. He died two days before she mentioned him. I expect he was just dropping by to wish me farewell.

Jane:
I suppose, uh, your people are very good at it.

Jenny:
I beg your pardon?

Jane:
Getting in touch with the, uh, dear departed. I expect, uh, your family do it all the time.

Jenny:
My family, get in touch with the dead? They can hardly be bothered to get in touch with the living. What you getting at?

Jane:
Voodoo!

Jenny:
Voodoo?

Jenny:
Yes, I've read all about it. You know, doing nasty things to chickens.

Jenny:
Oh, *that* voodoo. Oh yes, there's a lot of voodoo in Bournemouth.

Jane:
Really?

Jenny:
Oh yes, chickens can't walk the streets of Bournemouth without being torn to shreds by zombies.

Jane:
Zombies! [gasps] I never knew!

[first lines]

Tom:
[playing chess] Look, please, Diana.

Diana:
Well, are you going to make your move, or have I got time to bash out a quick novel?

Tom:
I'm thinking.

Diana:
Yes, I know. I can hear the terrible crunching of long rusted gears and the tired creaking of a machine in pain.

Tom:
Very poetic.

Diana:
Oh, God. If I should die, think only this of me: I played Tom Ballard chess while busting for a pee.

Tom:
Well, go then.

Diana:
I don't want to go; I'm just trying to stop my brain from totally atrophying while you make your next move.

Tom:
Aah... No.

Diana:
Oh. Strike him down! Come on, God, right now; poof, frizzle, pile o' dust!

Tom:
You don't believe in God.

Diana:
I'm getting desperate.

Tom:
What's the hurry?

Diana:
"At my back I always hear Time's wing?d chariot hurrying near." Andrew Marvell.

Tom:
Was he related to Captain Marvel?

Diana:
Will you just make your move, or I'll hide your teeth again.

Tom:
I'm just about to. Keep your knickers in the untwisted position. Ha ha ha. [makes a move] Checkmate.

Jane:
Harvey would like to have a little word.

Diana:
'Cause he can't manage a big word?

Harvey Bains:
Thank you, Diana, this is a serious matter, so if I could have your full attention, with no interruption.

Basil:
Is it about the, uh, contraceptive machine in the gent's lavvy?

Harvey Bains:
No, it is not! There is no such machine, Basil.

Basil:
Precisely! And it's a disgrace. It's a four mile walk to the nearest chemist. And 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.

Harvey Bains:
When I got to the police station, the place was in uproar. Tom thought he was Marc Antony; the daughter-in-law was trying to get him a life sentence; and Diana had the desk sergeant in a head-lock.

Jane:
Do you think they'll be all right?

Harvey Bains:
Oh, I should think so; the police are a tough lot.

Jane:
No, I mean our people.

Harvey Bains:
Well, they're even tougher. I'd like to machine-gun the lot of them.

Jane:
Oh, Harvey, that's not very caring.

Diana:
If you recall, Tom, the last time you attempted to sew buttons on your trousers, we spent three hours at the hospital and you were offered serious counseling by the local rabbi.

[last lines]

Diana:
How are you, old thing?

Tom:
Pretty pissed off, actually!

Diana:
So what did you get?

Tom:
I got off on the shoplifting charge.

Diana:
Well, hah!

Tom:
But they fined me fifty pounds for contempt of court.

Diana:
Well done. Bloody marvelous!

Harvey Bains:
I don't pay you to sit around, Jenny. C'mon, get me some coffee.

Jenny:
Oh, yes'm boss, sure thing, Mr. Bains. I gets the coffee. I gets the limes and the coconuts. Lord, I be working on them railroads.

Harvey Bains:
This my almost Armani suit.

Tom Ballard:
[Harvey wants to become a priest because Jane has decided to become a nun] What about celibacy?

Harvey Bains:
What do I care about fame?

[first lines]

Jane:
What happened, Tom?

Tom:
Don't know. She was feeling pretty sick with this diabetic thing and after eating all these cakes, and then...

Jane:
Yes?

Tom:
Well, I was said a few things to cheer her up, and she went and collapsed, fluttering all over the place.

Jane:
What things were you saying?

Tom:
oh, not much. Just suggested we ought to get married.

Jane:
You swine! You're all the same!

[Harvey has fainted]

Diana:
Harvey's died. Let's bang a stake through his heart before the sun comes up.

Harvey Bains:
I'll go and have a quick flick through the Bible.

Diana:
Now what have your done? You'll turn him into a Jehovah's Witless.

[last lines]

Diana:
But that's probably why men exist, hm?

Jane:
To give us stomach upset.

Diana:
Mm, yes. Yes, it is in the stomach, isn't it, that funny feeling?

Jane:
Oh, yes, yes. I used to get that when I saw Harvey's hair-oil stain on his pillow. I thought it was love, but it was probably... thingy.

Diana:
Yeah. Thingy. Bloody thingy!

[Jane starts to wail]

Diana:
Shut up, Jane!

Harvey Bains:
This is my almost Armani suit.

[first lines]

Tom:
Come along, feces. Come along, little birdies. [Diana swipes at them with her cane] Diana, stop that. One of these days you'll actually hit one of my sparrows, and then how will you feel?

Diana:
Accurate.

Tom:
Oh, you're *unspeakable*!

Diana:
Well, I'm so bored. Oh, Jesu. How about you, Jane? Are you bored out of your wet little mind?

Jane:
[distractedly] About half past ten.

Diana:
I see Basil the Bonker wasn't at breakfast again today.

Jane:
Oh, yes?

Diana:
Probably blown a fuse and caught fire.

Jane:
Probably.

Diana:
Mind you I did see him and Nelly Piggott dancing naked with a headless goat last night.

Jane:
That's nice.

Diana:
Jane!

Jane:
[Jane finally turns around] Yes, Diana?

[last lines]

Geoffrey:
Hello, Diana. Everything all right?

Diana:
Well, it depends on how you look at life, Geoffrey.

Geoffrey:
Sorry?

Diana:
Your wife is back.

Geoffrey:
Really? She OK?

Diana:
What would you prefer, Geoffrey: an addled slattern or a new-age puddle-duck spouting gibberish?

Geoffrey:
What?

Diana:
You'll see.

Geoffrey:
I must go to her. [he starts off, then turns back] If Marion's back, why are you still here?

Diana:
Ah. Yes, well, that's the other thing I wanted to ask you, Geoffrey. I wonder if you would be so kind as to check your main sewage outlet for a small brass key. [moves to show she is handcuffed to the car]

Geoffrey:
My wife is now in some Welsh commune with a member of the clergy.

Diana:
And the rest of him, I trust.

Geoffrey:
What?

Diana:
Just being gratuitously coarse as is my wont.

Diana:
I want to complain.

Harvey Bains:
Oh, well what a surprise; how unusual. Diana Trent wants to complain; well, well, well, what a shock.

Diana:
Shut up, you gibbering idiot.

Jane:
He's not a *gibbering* idiot. He's been cured of gibbering. He's just an idiot now.

Marion:
Am I in your nightmare, or are you in mine?

[last lines]

Dr. Henry:
Mr Ballard.

Tom:
Back in a sec.

Diana:
Don't be silly; I'm not going to miss this. [to Dr. Henry] I am his European attorney; so watch yourself.

Tom:
She is my common wife.

Diana:
Common law wife, if you don't mind. Well, spill the beans; haven't got all day.

[first lines]

Geoffrey:
You're going to love it here, Dad.

Marion:
It looks really super, Tom.

Geoffrey:
Doesn't it, Dad? [long pause] Dad?

Tom:
Oh, yes, it's lovely. Very well kept. I'm sure it will be a great new adventure.

Geoffrey:
That's the spirit.

Geoffrey:
Dad, if you don't like it here, we'll forget the whole thing and go home.

Tom:
Thank you, Geoffrey, but I don't think so. If I stayed there one more night, poor Marion would probably strangle her psychiatrist.

Geoffrey:
No, no, she's just a bit, you know... highly strung.

Tom:
And so she should be.

Tom:
[about the food] Well, doesn't anyone complain.

Diana:
Not often. We're British; bad food is a way of life. They serve dead dog, they'd complain to the R.S.P.C.A. before the chef.

[last lines]

Diana:
D'you play Scrabble?

Tom:
I'm a bullfighter.

Diana:
You're a crackpot.

Tom:
Well, at least I'm prettier than you.

Harvey Bains:
Dan.

Tom:
Harry.

Harvey Bains:
Sorry?

Tom:
Harry!

Harvey Bains:
No, it's not Harry, Dan, it's Harvey.

Tom:
My apologies. One should always try and get a person's name right or they might think you don't care for them.

Harvey Bains:
Right.

Tom:
Listen, Ballard, you're not an original. You can't disguise gibberish as original thought.

Tom:
[of his daughter-in-law:] Ghastly creature. Should have been strangled at birth.

Diana:
You talking to me?

Tom:
To you, no. About you, possibly.

[first lines]

Jane:
Right-oh! Now you've all got to try and get the ball off me, right?

Tom:
I was young once.

Diana:
No, you weren't. You were born aged sixty-five, with more wrinkles than an elephant's scrotum.

Geoffrey:
We're going to have a fruit cup and an knees up at our place. Good idea, eh?

Diana:
Oh, it'll be the highlight of the social calendar. I'm sure Nigel Dempster is on red alert even as we speak.

Tom:
Will there be hard drugs and soft women?