Auf Wiedersehen, Pet, Series 2

Oz:
[Making his way through the crowd] Chuck the drinks o'er, Bomb.

Bomber:
Here y'are.

Wayne:
[Approaching a couple sat at a table] Evening. You from 'round here, are ya?

Male Patron:
Yes.

Wayne:
Well, what do you do when the pubs shut?

Male Patron:
I go home.

Wayne:
Oh, so it's all 'round to your place, is it? Here, Bomb, we'll bring a bottle, eh? [Chuckles] No, no. What I mean is, erm, are there any clubs or anything to go to?

Female Patron:
You mean a disco?

Wayne:
Well, I don't mean a rugby club, do I, love?

Female Patron:
[Sighs] You'd have to go into Chesterfield.

Wayne:
That's a bit of a schlep, ain't it? We'd get so pie-eyed, we'd either end up in a ditch, or being breathalysed, eh?

Barry:
Nice place, tihs, innit? Very attractive. Very, er... very upmarket clientele, innit?

Neville:
They don't seem to enthralled to see us.

Barry:
Ah, that's because we're townies, innit, Nev?

Neville:
It's more than that, Barry, man. It's another country 'round here. I tell you what it is, I feel more a foreigner here than I did in Germany.

Barry:
You're... You're very conscious of your working class origins, you are, Nev. I've noticed that about you.

Neville:
You're working class.

Barry:
Oh, yeah, yeah, but I've always been a very good mixer socially, y'see, because I refuse to conform to the rigid rules that society imposes, y'see. I refuse... I refuse to acknowledge class barriers. That's the tragedy of this country, Nev, y'know, the bloody polarisation of the classes. That's why I joined the SDP, you know, mate. It's the party of the future, that is, mate, yeah. Where the old class warfare will be... will be meaningless! You know, sometimes, if you ever really consider that, erm... [Notices an older male patron glaring down at him] ...about... the things that, erm... Good evening.

Treadaway:
Do you realise you're sitting on my stool?

Barry:
Sorry?

Treadaway:
You're sitting on my stool! I've just been away for five minutes. That's my gin and tonic on the bar.

Neville:
That's all right, he hasn't drunk it.

Oz:
[Approaching with Bomber] What's the beef 'ere?

Barry:
It's all right, mate. No problem, I just sat on this gentleman's stool.

Barman:
Is anything wrong, Mr. Treadaway?

Treadaway:
Chap sitting on my stool!

Oz:
What you talkin' aboot, your stool? [Barry tries to stop Oz from escalating things further, but no such luck...] No, hold on, hold on, are you tryin' to tell us that you bring that stool out when you come for a drink, like? Eh? You get to the door with yer stool under yer arm, and you say, "I'm just goin' over the pub, pet, for a pint with me stool." Eh? [The other lads giggle]

Treadaway:
[Furious] Who are you?

Oz:
Who am I? My name's Osbourne. What for, like?

Treadaway:
I shall report you!

Wayne:
You'll lose a bit of face if you do that, mate, 'cos that'll make you a stool pigeon. [They all laugh. Wayne sings] Stool pigeon!

Male Patron:
Somebody should throw those people out!

Bomber:
Oh yes? Like who? [Stands in front of the male patron, flanked by Oz]

Oz:
[Posh accent] Oh, would you like another drink, Mr. Busbridge?

Bomber:
What a good idea, Mr. Osbourne.

Oz:
[Posh accent] Oh righty-ho, then. [Normal accent] Here y'are, chuck. What is it?

Bomber:
Large Smirnoff.

Oz:
[To the barman] Large Smirnoff in there, son, and I'll, er, have a large Glenfiddich with a nice big chunk o'ice floatin' in it.

Barman:
Sorry, it's time.

Oz:
It's time? She's still servin' up there.

Barman:
They're residents.

Oz:
Well, that's alreet, me mate's a resident, Mr. Patterson He's havin' a scran next door in the restaurant.

Neville:
Ah, divvn't bother, Dennis, Oz, man.

Oz:
I'm not ganna bother 'im. We can just put it on his slate and we can give 'im it back in the morning.

Barman:
Sorry. [Raises his eyebrows.]

Barry:
Well, we don't we just have a last one back at the Barley Mow?

Treadaway:
[Sternly] Yes. Why don't you do that?

Oz:
Oh, you're still here, are yer?