Auf Wiedersehen, Pet, Series 1

Neville:
Cheers, Bomb.

Bomber:
...Cheers, Neville.

Neville:
There must be some way I can save a bit more of me money.

Bomber:
Aye. This is it. Sitting in at night, feeling bloody miserable. A working man's entitled to his leisure, Neville. He shouldn't feel guilty about it.

Neville:
Aye, I know, I know. It's just... if I earned a bit more, yer kna... I wouldn't feel so guilty about going out with the lads.

Bomber:
Don't be so sure. Bomber's first law of economics is, the more income he gives me, the more I live beyond it. [Neville chuckles.] Perhaps you could do with a little spare-time job. A bit of moonlighting.

Neville:
[Sighs] Fat chance. [Walks over to Bomber's bed.] Anyway, what are you doin' in tonight, Bomb? You're not saving as well, are ye?

Bomber:
[Sighs] Not exactly. Bomber just needs to think a bit. That's all.

Neville:
I don't wanna pry, Bomb, but, er... if there's any problem, yer kna?

Bomber:
[Holds up the photo in the wallet] She's the problem. [Neville takes the photo.] Tracy, my sixteen-year-old.

Neville:
What's the matter, like?

Bomber:
She ran away from home.

Neville:
Oh, no.

Bomber:
It might be nothing, of course. She... left a note. It didn't say she ran off with a used car salesman, or some beat group.

Neville:
So what are you gonna do? Phone the police?

Bomber:
The wife already did that this morning. If we haven't heard anything by Sunday, I'll have to go back.

Neville:
Well, look. I'll have a word with the lads, and we'll have a whip-round for your plane ride.

Bomber:
Thanks, Neville, but don't do that. Don't want everyone with long faces.

Neville:
No, I suppose not. [Goes back to his beer] Hey, d'you fancy a beer over the club?

Bomber:
I thought you were trying to save your money.

Neville:
Well... I am, but, erm... it doesn't seem that important now.