01x02 - A Trip to Brighton

[bunniefuu]

Morning!

Very comfy, are we?

The word is comfortable,
you simpering ninny.

Oh, you do make a mess around you.

What's this roll doing her?

Why don't you ask it?

Or don't you speak roll?

Oh.

Did you enjoy having your
niece here yesterday?

She tried to strangle me.

Oh, yes.

Such a nice woman.

With her rosary beads.

She had a long chat with me and Mr. Bains

Inquiring about your health
and general well-being.

I'll bet she was.

The only reason I keep breathing is so
that she can't get her hands on my money.

Oh, yes.

Jane...

My niece only comes here in the hope
that, one day, she will find me,

stiff as a board, with a
stake through my heart.

I'm sure that's not true.

She keeps garlic and a
crucifix in her handbag.

Harvey...um, Mr. Bains

says that persecution mania is very
common among senior citizens.

Don't you call me a senior citizen.

Oh, but what are you, then?

What do I bloody well look like?

Senior citizen.

Oh, yes?

And when did I become a senior citizen?

Oh, after you turned sixty.

Jane...

On my sixtieth birthday, I was
a freelance photographer...

hanging out of a helicopter...

somewhere on the Cambodian border...

while various warlords were
trying to sh**t the ass off me.

That's just mean. How very colorful.

And they weren't calling
me a senior citizen then.

No, they were foreign.

The probably didn't know the words.

Jane...

The Eastern peoples do not
have senior citizens.

They have elders...

whom they respect...

reverie...

don't try and shove under the
carpet like some minor embarrassment.

So, you can tell that Bains
creature that we are not

senior citizens

or any other form of coy euphemism.

We...are paying customers.

We are what keeps his
butter stuck to his bread.

Do I make myself clear?

Yes, Diana.

You always do.

I see your niece has left her car here...

the red Porsche.

Yes, she's going on holiday,

and as most of her neighbors
appear to be car thieves,

she's asked me to look over it for her.

Oh, good.

Just so long as you weren't
thinking of driving it.

Me, Jane?

Let's have a record.

Really?

Mm hmm...

Justice...

ladies and gentlemen of Life's jury...

is like a meal...

like this very meal, that
we have spread before you.

When you've got it, you take it
as your right and proper due...

but when you haven't got it...

you feel confused,
disorientated, and cheated...

and if you are deprived of it for
too long, you may even whither...

and perish!

Give me my food!

And give me my justice.

I want my dinner.

Something wrong here, Tom?

I want justice.

And I want my dinner.

Give Basil his dinner, Tom.

It isn't dinner.

It's a symbol of faith.

It's a plate...of curry.

What's wrong now, Tom?

It can't be the food.

We've doubled the catering
budget since you threatened

to disembowel yourself on
the steps of town hall.

Nothing wrong with food.

So, what is it?

I've told you, it's justice.

Justice...about what?

Justice isn't about anything.

Justice is an ideal.

An end in itself.

And we want it.

Don't we?

You see, Tom...

The just want to have
their lunch...in peace.

It's because they have been
broken on the wheel of life.

It's because...

they're hungry.

Thank you, Tom.

Now...

Everybody happy?

Good.

That's blood, that is.

Sucked from us, over seventy years,

and returned to us...

one...claggy...gob...at a time.

Who on Earth is he today?

I'm not quite sure.

Seems like a cross between...

Perry Mason...and Aristotle

An old fart.

Miss Trent!

Good morning, Diana

Or should I say, good
afternoon, as it is...

:, and that is minutes
after the start of lunch time.

Do be quiet, you tedious little man.

We do have staff, you know,

and they like to get away on time.

They have rights.

So do prison wardens.

Now, that's not a very nice attitude.

No, it wasn't meant to be.

In a world ruled by aggressive simpletons...

someone has to see the sheer
futility of the human race...

the universe... the Bayview
Retirement Home for the almost dead.

Not feeling a little bit
negative today, are we?

Oh, Miss Trent...

Diana...

What?

About your niece’s car...

Yes?

It's a sports car.

So?

Well, I was wondering if you would like
me to look after the keys for you...

Were you really?

Until your niece returns.

Well, thank you, but

I think that the care of a couple of keys

is just about within the
capabilities of this

rattled old body and fuddled old brain.

Bugger off, and let me eat in peace.

I don't have to do this job, you know.
No, I don't have to do it.

I don't have to be a caring individual.
I get little help.

Oh, Tom. Don't forget that your
son is visiting tomorrow morning.

Oooooh...God.

Dad?

You can always come home.

Well, he can if he's not happy.

Who says he's not happy?

He does.

He hasn't said a word
since we've been here.

Marion, please.

He only does it to upset me.

He's trying to push me over the edge.

Your family never like me.

You know that's not true.

But why isn't he talking to me?

What's he doing, staring into space?

Sitting like that.

He'll get piles.

It'll serve him right.

I hope they blow up and strangle him.

He's not deaf.

Dad...

Hello?

Maybe he's dead.

Give him a prod.

He's meditating.

How disgusting.

He's just sitting and thinking.

Well, what's he thinking,
that's so important,

he can't even talk to his own family?

Well, He's out of his body right now.

Eh?

Out of his body?

Well, where's he gone, then?

Onto another plane.

On a plane, eh?

Well, that's very clear, isn't it.

He's gone off on a plane,
but left his body behind.

Does that get him a reduced fare?

God! What do they feed them around here?

Does your wife ever shut up, or do you
have to take a scythe to her vocal chords?

Oh, that's right.

Thank you very much.

I just come here to be insulted, don't I?

Well, I'm glad there is
some point to your journey.

Ho, ho, ho.

And tell me, Miss Acid Drop...

How long does he go off
on these plane trips for?

Well, now, that depends on
how far he's transcending.

If his astral travels should
take him as far as the...

well, the lost source of the
Ganges, he could be gone all day.

If, on the other hand, he has just
wafted round to the corner shop,

he could be back any minute

Come along, Geoffrey.

These people are all quite gaga.

And we don't want to catch
any gaga germs, do we?

Come along.

Bye, Dad.

Send us a card.

It's all right. They've gone.

Oh...

Was someone here?

I've been away...in another world.

Listen...

You may fool you cretinous
relatives with your dithery-dodas,

but don't try it with me,
you brain-dead old fish.

You know your trouble, Miss Trent?

You're earthbound.

No wings!

Where as you, Dr. Who...

Where as I...

only have to twiddle a couple
of old baker-like knobs...

And I'm up, off, off, and away...

to better times...better places...and
darn sight better company too.

Oh, yes...

And what particular Disneyland

for the simple-minded have
you been goofing around in?

I have been to Washington.

Whoa! I bet that shook 'em.

I went with my old friend, Jimmy Stewart.

You remember the old movie...

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington?

Well, I went with him.

Dear old Jimmy Stewart.

We addressed Congress, on a matter of...

Grave Injustice.

What injustice?

On the injustice of aging, Miss Trent.

Look at us...we have been diddled.

We have worked hard, all our
lives, and what happens to us?

Well in your case, you go doolally.

We get old.

That's what we get for our pains!

Life is hard, and then you die.

It's all the wrong way 'round.

God's probably dyslexic.

Well, I want to do something young.

Good idea! Go and play in the traffic.

There isn't any traffic around here.

Only the odd Hearse...

gliding..shark-like,
through the hedgerows...

searching for customers.

Bring out your dead.

Bring out your dead.

-Bring out your dead.
-Oh, for God's sake...shut up.

Come on.

We are going out in search
of some real traffic.

And real people.

Where?

Brighton!

Brighton?

Does Brighton really exist beyond
the confines of naughty postcards?

Possibly not, but we're 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.

Brighton!

Porsche!

Car phone!

Goodness.

I'm going to be...a Yuppie!

This is wonderful.

I used to have a Morris Minor.

It was just like this.

But completely different.

This is Major Tom to ground control.

We have ignition.

Stop puffing about!

Diana?

What?

One small point.

What!

Can you drive this thing?

'Course I bloody can!

Damn it, woman! Watch out for the old folk.

We are the old folk

Yes, officer, a Porsche.

That's right, a big, red, shiny Porsche.

And they must be stopped.

No, no, I don't know the number.

No, no, they haven't stolen it.

Well, I doubt very much
if she is licensed.

Couldn't you try to sound a
little bit more concerned?

Why? Why?

Because there are two
bloody-minded old crackpots...

tearing along the coast at
a million miles an hour!

And I, as a citizen and a tax
payer, want you to stop them!

I'm a reasonable man, aren't I, Jane?

Oh, yes, Harvey, very reasonable.

I'm not what they say I am, am I?

Oh, no, Harvey.

Eh?

What do they say you are?

I'm providing a service.

I'm not a blood-sucking Yuppie bastard,

trying to screw them for every
penny they've got. Am I?

Of course you're not.

Jane, you have a hand on me.

Quite nippy, isn't it?

I think we left my bum
at the last roundabout.

Why are you driving on the
wrong side of the road?

Because you never know
when you're going to

meet some silly sod
doing it the other way.

Oh...

Don't you love the sea air...

mingled with the sickly tang of
candyfloss and fresh donuts?

I just like to be alive.

My driving doesn't worry you, does it?

Oh, no. I'm a fatalist.

If it is writ...it is write.

Style, Tom.

You gotta have style.

Far better go out in a flash at the
wheel of your space capsule here than...

spend another couple of years timidly
put-putting up and down the promenade...

at the wheel of your Hillman Minx

while your brain-dead partner
fiddles with cardigan buttons.

Fancy and ice cream?

Won't we get a ticket?

My niece will get a ticket.

A Porsche?

My father has gone off with
a woman...in a Porsche?

How disgusting!

Well, when I say woman, I mean...

You mean some under-aged nymphet. Hah!

I knew it.

I could tell.

For years, he's been looking
at me in a funny way.

He's gone off with Diana Trent.

Who's she?

His neighbor, one of our residents.

You mean he's run off with an old woman.

Oh, God. I think I'm going to be ill.

Lord! How totally obscene!

Porsche, too.

Expensive car, oh, God!

We think they've probably
just gone for a drive.

I'm sure that's all.

Don't be ridiculous...

a man and a woman in a fast car...

the roar of the exhaust pipe...

the sheer power of the acceleration,
pressing you back in your seat...

the smell of real leather...

[labored breathing]

I suppose it is quite a
nice day for a drive.

Used to come down here during the w*r.

Used to watch the air battles—
the dogfights, out there.

Our boys and their boys...

weaving about on a lovely summer's day...

putting on such a show...

One of the Hun went down...

whole beach would cheer...

One of our boys were hit...

even the wind would stop blowing...

time...froze until...

a lad either parachuted to safety,
and your heart would leap...

or he plunged into the sea...

and you all d*ed with him...

Nineteen or twenty years...

of some dear mother's...

adoration...

Nothing cares...

Switched off.

Doused!

Tch.

That's why I never had children.

Couldn't face losing them.

So, I never had much at all.

Were you in the w*r, Tom?

Oh, yes.

Army.

I had what they call a good w*r.

Where were you?

Oh, all over...

North Africa, chasing Rommel...

then Italy...

then D-Day and the push to Berlin.

What rank?

Well, I ended up SCAFE.

What's that?

Supreme Commander Allied Forces in Europe.

My real name is Eisenhower,

but I don't mention it to anyone, in
case they think I'm getting a bit...

big headed.

You want to be careful, you know...

They might mistake your fantasy world
for senility, and lock you up.

What fantasy world?

Something essentially English
about seaside candyfloss.

It's quite revolting.

It goes with the Grey sea
and the fried food...

and the appalling hopelessness
of all those dead people...

dragging their lumpened
bodies up and down...

waiting for the blessed relief of Autumn...

when they can let their brains fur
over and their limbs atrophy,

while they crawl back into their holes...

spend the winter breaking
wind in front of the tele.

Bloody hell.

I don't oppress you, do I.

If I cut my head off

and put a stake through my heart,

I'll be positively jolly
in comparison with you.

You can't spend your life being so
contemptuous of your fellow man.

Why not?

Well, why?

Because if you're angry, you
know you're still alive.

But why bother?

If you think life is one
long bath in acid...

why don't you pull the plug?

su1c1de?

Mercy k*lling, in your case.

No!

Too many people to get even with

The best way to do
that...is to outlive them.

Come on!

Let's burn a little rubber.

Burn a little rubber?

Don't have one with me.

Oh, here they are.

All in one piece.

No harm done.

They should be locked up.

No, no, Marion.

-Take your hand's off me, you fat pig.
-Revolting old man.

-Just leave it to me.

-Please, madam, please.
-You're the one that let them escape

-in the first place.
-Now, now, Marion.

Well, well, Miss Trent.

Diana...

Goodness..a party!

What fun!

Geoffrey. How lovely to see you.

I thought you were coming this morning.

We did, Dad. You were out.

Oh, of course.

Washington.

So sorry.

Marion...how are you?

Don't touch me!

Same as usual.

Now...I would like you all to
meet a new friend of ours.

Constable Wilkins.

This is my son Geoffrey.

Sir!

And his wife, Marion.

And this is Mr. Harvey Bains,
manager of the institution,

and his right arm, Jane Edwards.

And of course, Miss Trent,
who's already sworn at you.

Well...

Isn't this nice?

Mine's a gin and tonic.

No tonic?

No gin.

Dan, we've...

-Tom!
-Sorry.

-Tom, we've...
-We've been terribly worried, Dad.

Where've you been?

We've been to Brighton!

I knew it! Brighton!

Seaside hotels...Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Filth!

It's only been a few hours.

Oh, god. Not even a hotel.

How could you?

Someone cut that woman's throat.

And you...You're just...just...

a loose tart.

Give me a Kn*fe. I'll do it myself.

Can we just stick to the matter in hand.

Miss Trent...

Diana...

You've caused us all a
great deal of distress.

Oh...good!

Police forces of Southern England have
been scouring the countryside for you.

But why didn't you ring
us on the car phone?

Save an awful lot of scouring time.

Oh.

Well, I'm sure the constable is a
very busy man. Maybe we could get on.

Well, seeing as there's no harm done, sir,

I don't think we need take
the matter any further.

-That's most kind.
-Most understanding.

Nice.

So, I bid you all good day, then.

Just a minute.

Yes, sir?

We demand justice.

Oh, god!

Justice, sir.

Justice, constable.

Shut up, you silly old prat.

As far as I can see...

ladies and gentlemen of the jury...

we have been wrongly charged.

You haven't been charged at all, sir.

Please only answer direct questions.

Court is in session.

Tom, this is not a film. This is real life.

They should castrate him.

-Marion!
-Tom!

Silence!

Any further...

interruptions...
and I shall have to clear the court

Now, constable.

Do I have your undivided attention?

You do, sir.

Good!

Now...

You said now you didn't wish to...

lay charges against my
client, Miss Trent, here.

-No, sir.
-And why was that?

Well...not really necessary, sir.
It's down to my discretion.

She seems like a nice old lady.

Ah, there we have it...

ladies and gentlemen of the jury...

"a nice... old... lady..."

We can ignore the word "nice,"

as it has absolutely nothing to
do with my client's character.

We can accept the word "lady..."

-as that is self-evident.
-Hmph!

Which leaves us with but one word,

and what is that word, constable?

Uh...old.

So, you didn't bring charges,
because she was what, constable?

Old...

Louder, please.

She was old!

Well, I don't think she would want not
to be charged because she was decrepit.

He said, "old."

Very ??? ???, no offense, Ma’am.

I think she would prefer...

not to be charged because she was...

innocent.

Sorry, sir.

What made you go in pursuit of Miss Trent?

We'd been told to look after the car, sir.

-The car wasn't speeding?
-No, sir.

-Or committing any other
visible offense? -No, sir.

Never the less, you still saw fit...

to stop the car and insist
the drive, my client...

should follow you back here...

at a very boring miles an hour.

Right.

I have here Miss Trent's license. Oop...

Is this a valid license?

Please look at it.

Yes, sir!

Can you tell me what groups it covers.

A, B, C, D, F, and G, sir.

Exactly.

Miss Trent is not only entitled to
drive a Porsche car, but also...

a motorbike, with or without sidecar...

an agricultural tractor...

and if she so desires...

a road-roller.

So, if she wasn't speeding, had a valid
license, and was breaking no known laws...

what the blue blazes do you think
you were doing, pulling her over...

and escorting her home
like a naughty child?

I was just obeying orders, sir.

That defense has terrible
precedence, constable!

I was told the car was
being driven by someone

who was incapable of
handling such a car, sir.

But now you know this to be untrue?

Yes, sir.

-So, you have been misled?
-Yes, sir.

-And what is this this called?
-Wasting police time, sir.

-An offense, I believe?
-Yes, sir.

And who did the misleading? Can
you see them in the court?

It was that man there, sir!

-Mr. Harvey Bains? You're sure of that?
-Yes, sir.

Now, just a minute...

Do your duty, constable.

Would you mind escorting me down
to the station, please, sir?

Well, yes I would mind.

-Don't make it hard on yourself, sir.
-But all I was doing was taking...

Bye, bye, Harry.

It's...it's Harvey.

Come along, sir.

Justice?

Justice.

He got off, you know, Harvey Bains.

Well, I didn't think they were going
to bring back hanging, just for him.

Oh, no.

Pity they couldn't manage a
little flogging, though.

You did quite well in there...

for a fossilized old fruit loop.

You should hang out in the
real world more often.

You think so?

Why not?

You could be a sort of late developer.

A sort of Grandma or Grandpa Moses.

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.
-Jolly good.

I'll get onto Jimmy Stewart right away...
and we'll really turn the place upside-down.

Come Christmas...

I should be at least front
runner for President.

My fellow Americans...

think not what your
country can do for you...

but what you can do for your country...

Dear God...

if you want to prove to me
that you really do exist...

blow him up.

I have a dream!

I have a dream...